Thanks for the reviews everyone! :D Sorry for the wait again, I keep getting nasty hours at work and time has not been on my side...But I managed to get this typed quite quick so hopefully, I can get faster updates now I know when I am in XDDDDD

For the nonPM people:

Guest: yeah, he will get his comeuppance, don't you worry :) LOL That is a good suggestion...and sorry for the waiting, hope this chapter is good enough for you :D
InuGhost: Maybe next time XD Yeah, Ulfric just made a very fatal error... :P As for a flashback...read on this and next chapter and you will know ;) And thank you so much for your continued support! :D

here you are, hope you like it :D

Astrid took a deep swig of the wine, savouring the taste before lowering her shaking hand onto the table, the tankard clutched in her fingers in a death grip. She would never admit it outright, but Morgan's last words had scared her to the core. She had been used to her joking around with the other assassins, she had forgotten that this woman had also slaughtered hundreds of mindless people without even bothering about why she had done it.

She took a shivering breath before speaking, not meeting the gaze of the Dragonborn sitting opposite her, instead looking at a small spider that scuttled across the dark wood of the table as she continued her tale.

"We have problems."

"What now?" Astrid muttered wearily as she looked up to see Nazir standing there with an expression that she had never seen him wear before.

Nazir was dressed in his usual Hammerfell/Dark Brotherhood attire, his scimitar held in his fingers tightly.

"They are at the door. We can hear explosions. They must be using magic and anything else to blast the rocks around the door to get through," Nazir reported softly.

"Then it's time," Astrid said as she stood up and unsheathed her blade. "Nazir, if I fall, get the others to Dawnstar."

"You can do that yourself," he responded with a hint of dry humour, and Astrid smiled a little as she walked past him.

Now that she was out of the main chambers of the Sanctuary and heading towards the one and only exit, she could indeed hear muffled explosions and even yells of encouragement coming from the attackers outside.

"Time to kill," Arnbjorn muttered as he came alongside his wife, placing a hand on her buttock and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Is there nothing else you think about apart from sex and blood…wait, I already know," Astrid replied as she spun around, pushed her husband against the wall and kissed him full on the mouth.

She broke the kiss and gave her werewolf husband a thankful smile before looking at the stairway that led to the exit. She was glad that Babette, Gabriella and even Cicero had left a few hours before, taking the Night Mother with them. It meant that somehow, the Dark Brotherhood may survive to fight another day.

If only she had come…

Astrid shook her head at that thought. She couldn't blame the Dragonborn for not being here, she had her own destiny and lifestyle, however insane it might seem to her. But she had still hoped that she had come, she would have proven useful…

"COME AND MEET YOUR END!" a voice yelled as they heard the unmistakable sound of the door toppling to the ground and a small avalanche of rock and debris follow it shortly after.

She narrowed her eyes as she heard multiple footsteps coming down the steps. If the Stormcloaks wanted her alive they would be sorely mistaken…

"COME ON!"

Astrid blinked as she felt Nazirs arm wrap around her waist and haul her upright. She stared at the body of the Stormcloak boy that had attacked her, her Blade of Woe stuck in his throat. The body of Festus lay nearby, the victim of said boy as he had somehow survived the immense waves of Destruction magic that the elderly assassin had been producing, and had managed to land a killing blow, the sword imbedded between Festus's eyes.

She had leapt onto the young man and had stabbed at him so many times, she had lost count, and had ended his whimpering sounds with a final stab at his bloody throat. But she had been caught by his flailing dagger that he had somehow managed to unsheathe, and she could feel the blood trickling down her body as she was dragged away by Nazir.

"Wait…Arnbjorn…where is he?!"

Nazir shook his head and tried to move her, but she stood firm as she looked around, surrounded by a few dozen bodies. And then she felt the tears fall as she spotted her husband lying on the ground near a tree, three blades stuck into his body. And his head was no longer attached, lying a few feet away from where it should have been.

"He saved my life. He pushed me into that ditch as those bastards swarmed him…and he took out a few of them by the looks of it," Nazir said quietly as he stopped trying to move her.

"It's all over," Astrid whispered.

She never felt the blow on the back of the head, nor did she feel Nazir's arms pick her up and carry her away from the burning remains of the Falkreath Sanctuary. But she did hear his mumblings before everything went black.

"Sorry Astrid, but you are wrong. We will live on like we always do. And somehow, we will get vengeance."

Astrid smiled as she finally went to sleep.

Vengeance? Sounds good enough for me. Pray for me husband, I will see you again…but only after I spill the blood of those that the Dread Father requires.

Morgan gently moved her hand across the table and took Astrid's hand, giving it a soft squeeze. The motion caused Astrid to look up at last, and Morgan could see the tears falling down her face. It was now that she could see just how much of a toll that the deaths of her husband and half of her fellow assassins had taken on the Nord woman.

"I'm sorry Astrid. I truly am."

Astrid nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes as she met the vampires gaze.

"Thank you. I will see him again after all. But I…I don't know what else I can do."

"That is easy," Morgan replied softly, causing everyone in that room to look at her instantly.

"What do you mean?" Nazir asked in puzzlement.

"Simple. You know who is responsible for the deaths of your Brothers and Sisters. You know that Ulfric will never stop looking for you when he finds out that the attack didn't kill all of you. And you know that not everyone in Skyrim likes Ulfric and some will even try and contact your organisation to try and turn the tide of the war," Morgan explained with a glint in her eyes.

"Brilliant," Babette breathed out before looking around at the others. "She's right. There will be more contracts now that people will get desperate. That means more gold for us and more souls for the Dread Father!"

"But our numbers are so few," Nazir pointed out with his usual dry humour.

"That is where we can come in," Serana piped up, her hand resting on Morgan's shoulder. "We can pick up a few contracts for you and try and get you back on your feet so to speak."

"And in return?"

Morgan almost smiled at the ease at which Astrid had spotted that they wouldn't help willingly without some sort of payment. She looked at her now with a neutral expression.

"You help me get my mother back. I have no idea how Veezara died, and I gather you do not either. So I have to ask you…how did you know?"

Astrid smiled a little now at the Dragonborn.

She will make a fine assassin.

"I was told by…well, someone very important in the Dark Brotherhood. In a dream anyway. It sounds odd, I know but I believe it was genuine. Babette, do you have it on you?"

Morgan raised her eyebrow as Babette scampered out of the room, and re-emerge a few seconds later, a dusty scroll clutched in her hands. The small vampire child passed the scroll over to Astrid, who nodded in thanks before looking back at Morgan and Serana.

"This scroll has been in our hands since I came to Skyrim. I have no idea where it came from, only that Babette said it was the most sacred object in our possession."

Morgan simply sat there and waited for her to continue. She knew that Astrid would tell her in her own time, and patience was one of her strong points. But even so, she was very eager to know exactly what the scroll held.

"I know you are curious, so I will show you," Astrid said as she stood up and walked to an empty part of the room before unravelling the scroll and reading the ancient words aloud.

Morgan knew a lot about scrolls and magic, thanks to her mothers teachings, but she didn't have a clue about what Astrid was summoning here. None of the words had the usual mentions of daedra, and Morgan knew that whatever she was summoning was much more than a simple Scamp.

Then there was a blinding blue swirl of energy, and Morgan simply watched as the magic dissipated and a figure emerged, wearing a long cloak, shirts and trousers. But it was a spirit and not a daedra, and Morgan wondered again just what…or who, this being was.

He blinked a few times before looking around. Being transported from the Void to Nirn had felt awful the first time, and this time was no different. But he also knew that as a spirit, he shouldn't appear weak in front of anyone, so he straightened his back and looked around.

Not the same Sanctuary, he noted as he surveyed the room. It was all man-made and had none of the natural surroundings that the previous Sanctuary had held within. It was also much colder that the previous one, and while he never felt cold like he would have done when he was alive, he could feel the change in temperature clearly.

Dawnstar then. A shit-hole back in my time.

Then he noted that he was not alone for his summoning. There was the current leader of the last remnants of the Dark Brotherhood. She was excellent at leadership but had been foolish to think that they could continue to survive by simply being cutthroats and hired killers. There was the Redguard, capable yet never ambitious enough to assume leadership, content with his current position.

The jester, touched by madness, yet a very capable assassin while he had stayed in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary in Cyrodiil before assuming the mantle of Keeper. He seemed pleased to see him, and he almost smiled at the way that the odd man was tapping his feet on the ground, as if eager to see his prowess in battle.

Then there was the unchild. Three hundred or so years old and yet she was the strongest of the remainder of the assassins that had survived. But like the Redguard, she was more than happy to follow the Nord's leadership.

And then there the two others in the room. They were new. But he knew of them. She had told him everything about the two vampires that were standing there with identical thoughtful expressions.

One of them was well over a thousand years old, and had only recently been awakened. She belonged to a very powerful lineage of vampires, the Volkihar Clan. He had met many of their number when he had visited Skyrim in his youth, and he knew how powerful they could be. And according to Her, this particular vampire was also one of Molag Bal's personal offspring, a Daughter of Coldharbour.

He felt a little sorrow for the woman before meeting the gaze of the other vampire woman.

The Dragonborn herself. The fire of the dragons and the blood of the Volkihar running through her, he doubted she even knew just how destructive she could be one day. But looking at her now, he could see why She had chosen her to be the next Listener. And the first in centuries. She was the one to lead them back to greatness, where their name would be feared by Kings, Queens, generals and anyone else.

"Morgan. Serana. Meet the Spirit of the Dark Brotherhood."

He smiled. This would get interesting.

Morgan never believed that the Dark Brotherhood could use a scroll to bring back what was obviously one of their own. His clothes were neatly pressed, and his hood concealed most of his head, only his face visible.

Quite handsome too.

Morgan shook off the odd feelings and smiled at the spirit as he gave a small smirk at them.

"I'm Morgan. This is Serana. Nice to meet you…sorry, what should we call you?" Morgan asked softly, hoping she hadn't insulted him.

In fact, the spirit laughed, a deep laugh that would make most people shiver, yet to the two vampires, they didn't have the nerve endings anymore to feel such things.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. And you may refer to me as Spirit, if you wish," he replied, his voice calm and quiet.

"That would be insulting to one such as yourself," Serana said with her tilted slightly, her teasing tone clear to everyone.

He chuckled again.

"If names are really important to you, then you may refer to me as Lucien. Lucien LaChance."

Morgan gasped, and the entirety of the assassins, as well as Lucien himself all turned their attention to her. She gave a weak grin before looking back at the spirit, never breaking eye contact.

"Sorry…It's just…I have heard of your name. I used to live in Bruma," she added as way of explanation.

Lucien raised his eyebrows at this. He had never thought that anyone would know his name after two hundred or so years after his death. But the Dragonborn had heard of him, and he was intrigued.

"How do you know of me?"

Morgan ignored the shocked stares of the others and looked at him with a saddened expression.

"There is a small ruin near Bruma. Only stones and nothing else. But there are several gravestones there, and ghosts always attack anyone that come within ten feet of the ruins. Of course, I wanted to know why that was…and my mother told me everything."

Lucien was becoming more interested with every second, but he wanted to hear more.

"And how did your mother know of me?" he asked.

"How do any parents learn such things? Gossiping. She was good friends with someone down in the Imperial City, a historian of sorts. Anyway, after a lot of…asking, from myself, she sent a letter to him. And he told her that….that was the place where one of the most dangerous assassins of the Dark Brotherhood had died two hundred years ago. Applewatch Farm." Morgan finished softly.

Lucien nodded and looked back at her.

"The historian was correct. I was once a Speaker of the Black Hand. One of the five that remained after the traitor tricked my Silencer in wiping out most of the Dark brotherhood in Cyrodiil," he explained, pacing as he talked. "I was killed, the Black Hand thinking I was the traitor. I was rewarded in the Void by the Night Mother for my loyalty, and she chose me to become fused with that scroll, knowing that I would be needed again…she never misses a trick does she?" he added wryly at the end.

Morgan noted Cicero was almost bouncing out of his chair in excitement and she almost giggled before looking at the spirit, who had stopped pacing the room and was now looking back at her with a neutral expression.

"I'm sorry for your suffering," she said simply.

Lucien just gave a small smile, which would have been a broad smile on anyone else.

"It is in the past. But thank you."

Morgan nodded to him and then Astrid cleared her throat thoughtfully.

"I am sorry to bring you back from the Void so soon Lucien, but…Morgan wishes to know how her mother was taken, and how one of our own was killed."

Lucien looked at her briefly and then looked back at the vampire Dragonborn. His orders from the Night Mother had been very clear. He was to help this woman to bring about the glory days of the Dark Brotherhood once more, and was also tasked to assist her in any way he could. He was glad that he had talked to the most recent arrivals to the Void before he had been summoned.

The werewolf Arnbjorn had been there, arguing with none other than the Daedric Prince Hircine himself, who felt cheated that the assassin hadn't been sent to his Hunting Grounds in Oblivion, instead of the Void. It had taken the soft and chilling voice of the Dread Father himself to end the argument, and Hircine had vanished immediately afterwards. Lucien couldn't blame him one bit. The werewolf had become human in form once more, his curse removed.

The old mage, Festus, had simply muttered 'it was his time, although he would have liked to burn one more before coming here', and had promptly walked away, seeing if he knew anyone in the Void.

And then there had been the Argonian, who had even tried begging to the Night Mother when She had appeared, trying to console him for his death. She had silenced him with a sharp word or two, and told him that while his part on Nirn had ended, he had done what was required of him and he had pleased the Dread Father.

Veezara had been pacified after that statement.

Lucien had then introduced himself, had told him about the Shadowscales that had been under his command a long time ago as a sign of trust, and after a short time of answering questions from the Argonian, Lucien had asked a question of his own, ignoring the amused chuckling coming from the Unholy Matron who had been watching them intently.

"I will tell you all I know, Morgan Aurelius."

Morgan smiled in thanks and then looked at him with sharp eyes.

"I never told you my last name."

Lucien laughed again. This time full of humour.

She is sharp. A good sign.

But what else would you expect of your own bloodline, my dear Lucien? he heard in his mind, and he pondered on her words for a few seconds before concentrating on the Dragonborn once again.

"No you didn't. But She did. Now, allow me to explain what happened to your fellow assassin and your mother…who is still alive may I add…"

Morgan stayed silent, eager to hear what happened. She clenched Serana's hand in hers, and her vampire lover did the same.

And Lucien began his tale.

A/N: hehehe Godnamet is back! XDDDDDDD

Anyone get the small hint at the end? :) I am so evil with my cliffhangers and plot twists aren't I?

Morgan: O-o

Is that a yes?

Morgan: *smirks*

Eep! Gotta go everyone! She is looking hungry... XD