The child-like vampire smiled in Galmar Stone-Fist's face. She patted his beefy arm where it was shackled to the wall. He was the only occupant in the newly-refurbished torture room of the Dawnstar sanctuary.
"Don't feel too bad about how you've ended up," she said. "You were trying to be nice."
"Die, monster!"
"Oh, now that you should feel bad about. I've heard better insults from children. Other children." She laughed.
Galmar yanked hard against his binds. It wasn't the first time. His arms were coated in blood where he'd worried them against the stone and metal. He panted and fell to his knees.
"Please!"
"That's better," Babette said. She turned and walked out.
In the dining area Nazir sat with Athene and two new recruits. One recruit, a Nord who called himself Blood-Spatter, had asked Athene three times to repeat her version of events outside Windhelm the night Ulfric died. Three times she'd refused him.
"Go make some potions," Babette said as she got near. Blood-Spatter slunk away.
The other recruit was a Breton named Margrite. She was staring at Athene with some kind of reverence.
Athene was having none of it.
"I'm not taking part in the fallout from this. If Ulfric's death helps the Dark Brotherhood's reputation even more than the Emperor's did, that's all on you lot. You take it and run with it."
"But you're the one who actually did it," Margrite said. Then she blushed so red Nazir laughed and slapped her shoulder.
"That's not the point." Athene took a long swallow of mead and closed her eyes. "The point of the Brotherhood is we're in it together. When one of us serves the Night Mother, we all do."
"You sound like you read the guidebook and you're reciting party lines." Nazir nudged her leg with his foot. "What's the story, Listener?"
Athene glared at him. "This is new to all of us. You were with Astrid for years. Don't tell me you've converted to the faith overnight, and now you live and breathe the will of Sithis?"
"I always suspected there was something more to this outfit than what Astrid claimed. And it wasn't overnight, my friend. In case you didn't notice, it's been months since we killed the Emperor. The Dark Brotherhood's reputation is better than it has been in years. And by 'better' I mean 'terrifying' and 'ruthless.' You did that. Maybe the rest of Tamriel believes it was a joint effort—"
"It was a joint effort. Do you think I could have done what I did to the Gourmet, or known Maro's weakness on my own? Do you think I would have survived outside Windhelm if I'd been alone with Ulfric, Galmar, and the thirty other soldiers they brought along? That was you guys, too. That was all of us."
There was companionable silence at the table for a while.
"Well, thank you," Nazir finally said.
Babette grinned. She was looking extra toothy today, Athene thought. The vampire had been in good spirits since she'd dragged Galmar's unconscious body over the doorstep and announced that dinner was on her.
"But if it was all of us, why are you suddenly bowing out? Not taking part in the fun after Ulfric's demise, even as the political contracts start rolling in and every Noble from here to Cyrodiil tries to shuffle into place? Not to mention the continued excitement from Titus Mede's death. With Nords and Imperials both mourning, the fallout is likely to be as exciting as the Civil War."
He stopped. Athene's face was ash-coloured.
"Not good?" he said.
"I thought this would help," she said. "Maybe stop some of the madness the Civil War caused."
"Why would you want to stop madness?" Babette said. She spared a glance to the Night Mother's coffin, where Cicero was shoulders deep with his daily polishing routine.
"I don't know." She stood abruptly. "But there's something I need to do."
As she strode up the stairs, Margrite gazing after her, Babette and Nazir gave each other a look.
"She doesn't know?" Babette said.
"She knows," Nazir said.
Athene tapped Cicero on the shoulder. He squealed and backed out of the Night Mother's coffin, one rag in hand and another gripped between his teeth.
"Liftna!" he said.
She pulled the rag from his mouth.
"Listener! You scared poor Cicero."
"You're welcome. How's our Mother today?"
"Gleaming."
"I'm relieved to hear it. Cicero, let me thank you again for your help in Windhelm. Without your interference…"
"The Listener would be dead!"
He was still grinning, but it didn't put her off. She was getting used to him after all. So she smiled right back.
"True enough. And you're happy here?"
"Absolutely!"
"I'm glad. Now, do you mind if…?"
She looked at the coffin. Cicero got the point and scurried away.
The mummified remains of their Mother lay back in her metal bed, eyes black and grin as wide as Babette's. Athene stepped closer and looked at the lines on the soft skin of her cheeks. The still hands where they gripped each shoulder. She was perfect, as she had been since the day they'd been introduced. As she would be long after Athene rotted.
"Mother," Athene said. "I think you know what I'm going to say."
She looked over her shoulder, but Cicero was some distance away, rubbing at a spot on an iron bar. The others were still down by the fire.
"I have lived for the Brotherhood this last year. I have never refused your requests, even when it meant going against Astrid, our apparent leader. We have pulled ourselves up from obscurity into the sight of all Tamriel. And no doubt we will be a force reckoned with for the next age, or longer.
"But now I have a request. Take back this mantle. Let the Dark Brotherhood exist without me, because I need to leave and I don't know when I'll be back. I could just go and leave them in silence, but we both know they need a Listener. And we both know there are ears on offer."
She cocked her head toward Cicero, and allowed herself a smile.
"Keep well. Well preserved, that is."
Athene turned her back on the Night Mother—not without respect, but with certain finality—and went to gather her things.