Hi guys. Sorry this took so long. Exam week often means I can't work on this sort of stuff. Also, I've been trying to backlog some chapters so that I don't get stuck with nothing to post~.

That being said, this chapter runs a little short, but a lot of stuff will happen in the next chapter. Hope you like~

Karma took her time returning to the Falkreath Sanctuary. Leaving Cicero behind was awkward and sort of painful. He'd have to stay there by himself until she could work out a way to change the circumstances. It probably wouldn't be anytime soon…so she would visit as often as she could, hurrying through contracts to free up time in order to avoid suspicion.

She used the time it took to travel between Dawnstar and Falkreath to ponder on how she was going to pull this off. Of course, she was a good liar. It was a skill she'd developed over the years, even before she'd joined the Brotherhood. If she was capable of committing murder in cold blood, then of course she was capable of spinning a good lie. And with no one else around to dispute it or uncover the truth (as no one knew the passphrase to the Dawnstar Sanctuary) it would be effortless to maintain it. So Karma pondered over her reactions to the situation and how she would have to behave to make everyone believe her.

It should be easy. While she hid it well under her mask of mostly-mute acceptance, Karma was still a woman of emotion and impulse. Only years of practice and hardship had given her the ability hide smiles, grimaces, and scoffs. On this inside she often raged with a number of different, conflicting feelings…like all humans and mer, she felt sadness, anger, and happiness. It would be easy for her to imagine the opposite path of this situation and act accordingly.

The Sanctuary was quiet when she arrived, leaving Shadowmere near the pool where she'd appeared. Astrid was waiting by the stairwell, and Karma glanced at her sharply as she tried to pass. The Nord stopped her with an outstretched arm,

"…Arnbjorn is safe, and for that you have my thanks. But what of the fool?"

Karma sucked in a breath and turned her head away, glaring at the wall. She bit off the ends of her words as if they were vile to say, "It's over and done with. Cicero is dead. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go care for the Night Mother. You know, since the person who was supposed to do it is gone now,"

She roughly pushed Astrid's arm aside, slipping past her. She intended to go straight to the Night Mother's chambers, but she was stopped by her leader again.

"You did the right thing, Karma. By killing him you've protected this family. And soon, the Dark Brotherhood will be restored to its former glory. When the Emperor is dead, we shall know a fear and respect that we haven't in hundreds of years. And it is your effort, in part, that will bring this future to be."

The words made her blood boil. Karma clenched her fists tightly and, again, forced a deep breath into her lungs. She didn't think she could stand to look Astrid in the face, so she spoke to the air before her, "I hope it's worth it, when it's over. I'll be in the Night Mother's chambers. I don't want to be disturbed."

This time she didn't allow Astrid to speak again before leaving. She could feel the others watching her as she passed through the main room, but she didn't address any of them, instead going straight to the sleeping area to take off her armor and leave her weapons. Then she went to the chamber before the stained glass window and shut the doors. She heaved another sigh and crossed to the iron coffin, unlocking it and easing the doors open carefully. Then she kneeled down before the Unholy Matron and closed her eyes.

It was an unearthly experience, to be linked to the Night Mother. Her presence was heavy, warm, and motherly, but also cold and merciless. The first time Mother had linked with her, the presence had frightened her terribly. She'd struggled against it, a battle within herself, but it was impossible to resist the force of the Unholy Matron. Everything had become clouded and distant, thick like heavy fog. And her voice had echoed within her skull with such power she would have collapsed if Mother hadn't have been holding her up. Since that moment, Mother had put a piece of herself within her Listener—within Karma—and the Redguard had found the foreign presence somewhat comforting and had accepted it once she'd realized what had happened. And now she was forever linked to the Night Mother, able to feel her at all times. She was certain that it was the same in reverse—the Unholy Matron forever keeping tabs on her.

"…I did the right thing, didn't I, Mother?" Karma muttered lowly.

"Yes, Child."

The Redguard quirked a little smile.

Cicero hadn't felt so incredibly alone in years.

The Imperial could tell a lot of stories about solitude, but that didn't mean he was at all fond of it…and ever since Karma had spared his life for purely selfish reasons, the jester had been oddly quiet, only speaking or laughing when things were especially still. Without the constant chatter, he felt oddly exposed and raw. He almost wished the jester would continue his maddening hysterics…but Cicero couldn't find a way to rouse him.

The abandoned Sanctuary was always quiet, annoyingly so, and he found himself humming often in order to fill the silence. The only good thing about the silent chambers was the amazing acoustics: Cicero could hear almost everything that made any noise at all. It was how he knew when someone entered the Sanctuary. Over the course of the last few weeks, those sounds had come to mean that Karma had come to visit him—bringing ale and sweet-rolls and her enjoyable company. But each time, those sounds grated his nerves and made the jester whisper incessantly about the possibility that it was one of the other members of the Brotherhood. If it was, he'd have to murder them in an attempt to keep the secret that he was still alive. Not that it would be a problem, his dagger was always at the ready, but he would rather avoid it if possible.

Today, when those sounds echoed through the caverns of the sanctuary, Cicero quickly turned to watch the door. His fingers brushed along the hilt of his dagger, tense preparation just in case it wasn't his Listener. He was relieved and delighted to see that it was, indeed, the Listener…but the smile dropped off his face almost immediately. Something was terribly wrong.

The Redguard was panting and covered in blood.

Cicero was at her side in an instant, supporting her just in case her legs failed to. Fear and anger welled up in his gut and the jester ceased in his obnoxious silence, filling his mind with hysterical noise. The familiarity allowed him to act, half carrying her to the warm hearth and setting her down to search for injuries. There were a lot of cuts on her body—nicks and scrapes from barely escaped sword swipes—but none of them were deep or life threatening. There was an awful burn on her left ankle, and a similar one on her forearm.

"Calm down, dearest Listener, you're safe now—Cicero will get you a potion to dull the pain, just a moment—"

Karma was sobbing, making it terribly difficult for her to relax after so much physical exertion. Her body was trembling with exhaustion, and she seemed to be using a lot of energy just to remain sitting up. Cicero managed to get her to lie down, and he set about removing the armor in his way, determined to staunch the bleeding and wrap the wounds tightly. He was sure that she was too exhausted to try healing herself with magic, as she had done for him months before.

"I-It's gone, it's all gone-!"

Cicero met her gaze uncertainly. Her eyes were full of swirling emotions—pain and anger and sorrow. It was startling. Her façade, her mask, it was completely broken. She was emotionally naked before him, a hysteric mess, both disgusting and beautiful.

"What's gone, Listener?"

"The Brotherhood," she choked out, squeezing her eyes shut against another wave of tears, "The Sanctuary and everyone in it…That traitorous witch…that disgusting wretch-!"

The anger had seeped into her voice, smothering out the sorrow. Cicero was familiar with the tactic of using rage to numb pain, the jester did it quite often, but it was simply fascinating when watching those emotions expressed by the Listener. She was glaring now, down at where his hands were wrapping a bandage around the burn on her forearm. It would undoubtedly scar. Before he could question her anger, she spoke, the words tumbling over each other in a rush,

"That insufferable harlot…Astrid made a deal with Maro. My life in exchange for the Brotherhood's safety. Of course he didn't fucking honor it. Why would he? I killed his son not a month ago!" she stopped, gritting her teeth when he pulled the bandage tight. She shuddered with pain and continued, "The Penitus Oculatus were already at the Sanctuary by the time I managed to get there. They had filled the chambers with oil and set it alight before going in to cut down anyone left. I managed to save Nazir, but the others…" she shook her head, "…Nazir ran to find Babette, but the exit was blocked when I backtracked." Karma let out a long, tired sigh. Her anger didn't completely disintegrate, but it did ease, "…The Night Mother called me into her coffin and protected me from the fire until it had died out,"

Cicero opened his mouth to speak, but she reached up and pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips, effectively stopping him. Her smile was weak,

"Don't worry. Nazir and Babette got me out of there. They're bringing the Night Mother here."

Again, the jester fell silent and Cicero found himself struck dumb. It was becoming quite annoying, really, the constant silence in his head. Karma heaved another sigh and looked up at the ceiling, her lips twisted into a frown,

"…after Mother arrives, I have some cleaning up to do."

Cicero tilted his head to the side, "Whatever do you mean, Listener?"

"Never mind that…will you help me onto a cot, please?"

The jester gave a snort, irritated at being brushed off, but Cicero nodded and carefully helped her to her feet. With her armor gone, she seemed considerably smaller in his arms. It was painful for her to step down on her left foot with the burn there, and he winced every time she hissed in pain, but he helped her down onto the fur covered mattress carefully. She grabbed onto his sleeve when he moved to pull away, and Cicero looked down at her in confusion.

"Listener?"

"…don't go."

The jester sniggered with delight, but Cicero was just surprised. He found himself seated comfortably on the cot, cradling his Listener's head in his lap. He removed his gloves and timidly brushed stray locks of ebony hair from her face, tucking them back behind her ears. Her skin was soft beneath the tips of his fingers, and the way she sighed and relaxed into his touches made the jester cackle with an odd feeling of triumph. Cicero himself was silent, uncertain. The jester was still being too quiet for his liking. Karma looked up at him tiredly, meeting his gaze sadly,

"…You know something, Cicero? Loss doesn't get easier the second time around,"

Then she closed her eyes and drifted off, exhaustion finally taking her. Cicero watched her expression soften as slumber took her, feeling confused and out of place. His Listener was making everything difficult to understand. He wasn't sure if he hated that or not.