A/N: And so ends the fluff!:D We're kicking back into it all, my lovelies, and I'm very excited for it. I'm sure all of you are, too. So, I've been working through all 18 previous chapters, editing and fixing and changing a few things here and there – most significantly, the time it takes Alysa to cross the country – this kinda runs parallel to Tar's story, which I will eventually plot out properly and write, and he doesn't take as long to travel as Alysa does, so yeah. But that's beside the point. I've also added a few tidbits about her past in a few places, and I think some of the chapters got a little longer by at least 100-300 words, and all those dreadful typos have been dealt with – unless I missed one, in which case could I ask someone to kindly point it/them out to me, and send me on my way to fix? Much appreciated in advance. Anywho, I'd also like to say that I've finally finished drawing Alysa, and she has been posted to my deviantArt profile – links on my page. She's not perfect, I know – I want to put up a screenshot of her, as well – but it'll give you an idea of what she looks like. So, I'm done rambling now: may our Dread Father always guide your blade, and pen. As usual, I'd prefer your pen;p Or, actually, a review!

Chapter 19: Life's a Bloody Charm, Really

The green lizard-man-Argonian Veezara came back about three days after Cicero and Aventus had our talk, and Cicero was almost more eager to hear about what he had to say about Solitude and the wedding than Alysa – and she was pacing in the training room until Cicero finally offered to spar with her – she'd already given Aventus a solid beating (Cicero giggles at that memory of the young Imperial) – and Cicero found she fought better when she was a little tense; she planned less and reacted more, which was important when staying alive.

But she was still distracted, so it was easy for Cicero to pin her to the ground several times – Cicero was glad it was hard work to fight, because he was sure he had blushed more than once. At least now, Cicero could blame the hard work he was doing on his slightly redder face… hee-hee-hee. Cicero was also glad – in hindsight, of course – that Aventus had stayed to watch and other brothers and sisters flitted in and out and through. It kept the Fool of Hearts a little more focused on the fighting than on the Listener.

When Veezara finally came in, Cicero had tangled with the Listener and held her fast. She was snarling something, and struggling to break free. It would be difficult, but it was possible. "Hm; you've gotten better, Alysa," the Shadowscale hummed gruffly.
Alysa turned her head to look at him, struggling with Cicero before suddenly going still. She sighed angrily, "Mind if you help me get out of this?"
"No! Wicked Cicero can't let the Shadowscale help you…. Think a little about it. It's quite– oof!"
The Listener had thrown her weight backwards and up against Cicero, and he toppled over. Dear, witty Alysa wriggled free and snatched up a training dagger. She pinned Cicero's arms to his body with her legs, straddling humble Cicero as she put the dagger to his throat. She grins darkly at me. "I guess I win." She stood, holding out a hand for Cicero. "It's about time," she added as a quiet afterthought. Cicero sniggered. "So, Veezara, how was Solitude?" Alysa asked before Cicero could say anything.

The Argonian shrugged. "Not too interesting. The wedding is set for twp months from now – it's the official date – and there are many places to strike from, just few to escape by. It won't be easy, but I almost envy you," he grinned that toothy-lizard grin. "You'll enjoy the challenge, Alysa. And if you've been training with the Keeper…" he just turned away, grin still there. Cicero beamed. I had always been a decent fighter, and once I learnt to fight dirty… few could beat Cicero.

Well, Shadowscales obviously could, but that was because they were different. Born to kill…. Such a pity this one was the last. And now, Cicero wasn't as young as he had been and he was very out of practice, so Cicero supposes there would be quite a few who could – would – beat him.

Cicero and Alysa followed to the alchemy lab, where Nazir and Babette and Festus were busy with who-knows-what. Well, Cicero supposed they knew what they were doing, but this little group of four didn't know. Aventus was skulking in the back, and Cicero resisted the temptation to glare back at him. The un-child was slouching by her alchemy table, her eyes closed and her little child's chin in her little child's hand. Cicero stared for a while, completely stunned – again – that something so innocent-looking was so dangerous-acting-and-being.

"Ah! Our resident lizard has returned! Tell me, how was Solitude? I hope you weren't too lonely…." Nazir greeted. It seemed not only Cicero liked using that pun….

Cicero and his brothers and sisters laughed, and Cicero heard and then turned to see the horrid wolf-man growl in amusement behind Cicero, his terrible, traitorous harlot next to him. Cicero sniffed, turning back to the conversation. His fingers twitch-twitch-twitched for his ebony dagger. Oh, sweet Mother and Dread Father, Cicero knows he shouldn't ask this, because it's not what an assassin or a Keeper should ask, but please, oh please-please-please, stay my thirsty blade. At least for now. A little while longer, please.

I felt better after sparring with Cicero. His last hold on me had left me confused and annoyed that I couldn't break it easily, but it wasn't all that bad. I just hoped I wouldn't get stuck on my knees with my hands pinned behind my back again, and a hold on my throat: Cicero was wicked with his fighting techniques, and I had a feeling he'd enjoy torturing people. Besides, my knees throbbed a little from what I had done to get out of it. I wonder what it would feel like to torture someone, I thought briefly, returning to my earlier train of thought as the others continued to make jokes.

I'd heard of times when the Brotherhood had taken victims for torture a long time ago…. I brought my focus back to Veezara. I was eager to hear about his scouting, and see what basic sketches he had done of the area to map it out. "Yes, that's wonderful; really it is; but I could care less. What about the wedding reception? Where is it going to be held? What's the security like?" I interjected, stepping forwards and running my fingers through my loose, slightly sweat-damp hair and drawing it into a pony before dejectedly dropping it: I had nothing to tie it with.
Nazir snorted. "Well, I see you're still yourself, after it all…" he winked.

I scowled back at him, about to fire back a sharp remark when Veezara interrupted. "Still herself? It seems I've missed quite a bit while I was gone. How about some hot food while we talk?"
Babette stifled a yawn, staring at us blearily. "I've woken up far too early. But I'll make an exception for you, Brother, because this is going to be interesting." She pulled out a red bottle from under her alchemy table, heaving herself up from her chair and – if vampires could – stumbled past us all to the dining hall. We trouped after her, filling tankards with mead and ale, and spooned large bowls of something that might have been Nazir's-turned-Festus's stew. It was a strange taste, but I almost like it the best.

Veezara took his time to get on with it, and I was getting fidgety. I knew he was toying with me a little. "By Sithis, give me the damnable maps you made, at least!" I finally exclaimed. The Shadowscale gave me a toothy grin, pushing his empty bowl to one side and pulling out the rough sketches, laying them out on the table. I looked over them briefly: they were mildly confusing and disorienting, probably to protect him if he had been caught with them. "Explain all of this to me. What's Solitude like? How many people?" I started.
Veezara rearranged them, and I suddenly saw an entire blueprint of a courtyard before me. "It's in the courtyard of the Temple of the Divines, close to the Castle Dour which could be a potential escape, since it apparently leads to the land outside of Solitude," Veezara paused, taking a breath to continue.

Gabriella interrupted before he could go on, though. "Ah, yes! The parapet over there…" she pointed. "Opposite the balcony. A friend of a friend will leave a little something there for you, my sister, to help with the assassination. I'm sure you will appreciate it. If you choose to go that way. If you don't, well, my friend will say he wants it, so I suppose he'll rather prefer it if you don't go that way."
I stared at her back as she retreated to the upstairs sleeping area. She had probably just arrived from another contract: I hadn't seen much of her this last week or so. "I see…" I replied, trying hard not to be too confused by her and turned back to the maps. "So this building is the Temple, by the looks of it?" I motioned at the building next to the parapet Gabriella had spoken about.
Veezara nodded. "Yes. The balcony Gabriella spoke of will be the one Vici gives her speeches from. From what I understand, there will be many throughout the three days. Mostly from her. Also, there is only one entrance to the courtyard – to the right of the lower dais on which the bride and groom will surely be," he sat back for a moment and sipped at his tankard. "I've heard whispers of another way out if you can't get onto the parapets, or out through this arch to the Castle Dour, but whether or not you will get in is another thing; assuming you're willing to take that route."

I'd never seen Veezara look this uncomfortable before. "Which way is this?" I pressed.
He hesitated before speaking. "In the Temple of the Divines, there are certain catacombs…."
"Potema's Catacombs?" Festus interjected, frowning deeply. "You would have to be a fool or very desperate before you go down there. Rumor has it the place is crawling with undead."
Veezara nodded. "Yes. Further whispers say that the new Thane of Solitude had a run-in with those who wanted to summon Potema's spirit in Wolfskull Cave, and that he headed into her catacombs not a month later to deal with her spirit, and destroy her remains. Apparently, it leads into a barrow and barrows always have two exits. Assuming no other undead have moved in, it should still be clear: this happened about a month or so ago, a little while before I was in Solitude. How true any of this is, I wouldn't know; but it could be a last resort to consider."
I wrinkled my nose instinctively. "I'd rather leave the dead and undead be. I only appreciate the company of one vampire, and that's more than enough for this Nord," I scoffed, scowling.
"I thought as much," Veezara laughed, and the mood around the table eased.

Even Babette had smiled, and her red bottle was empty – it suddenly occurred to me that she might have harvested blood and stored it for when she needed it. Arnbjorn snorted, and roughly shoved his chair back. "I'm sure the Listener is more than capable of handling herself; she is the Night Mother's 'chosen'."
I raised a brow and followed him with my eyes as he left; pretending to miss Cicero's exasperated hiss and angry mutterings. Astrid followed a short while after. "I'll be back a little later. Sounds like the lot of you have this under control. Keep me updated."
I turned back to the maps to see Babette pouting over them. "It's no fair. I love weddings," she sulked, almost to herself.
Nazir laughed. "I'm sure you make the perfect flower girl, little vampire."
We all sniggered, and our resident vampire glared playfully at the Redguard. "Listen, Alysa, I think I can help you. It's how I would have done it, anyway," she said, turning back to the maps, glancing at me briefly. "The wedding reception is outside the Temple of the Divines…. So, the bride will probably address the crowd from this balcony, as we've all agreed," she pointed, and grinned darkly at me. "Well, there's an old statue there. I've seen it. Hanging right over where she'll be standing. Old means weak. Weak means it could... fall. Hmmm?"

I sniggered, and Festus grumbled something about magic being the solution to all problems in the world. I went silent as a sudden thought occurred to me. "Wait, who's the Thane of Solitude?"
"Some High Elf called Tawarthion; he's also apparently the Dragonborn," Veezara shrugged.
Aventus nodded eagerly. "Yep! And a high-ranking Stormcloak, too. Alysa – the Listener – and I –"
"Briefly entertained them when we returned from Riften a few months ago," I growled softly at my younger brother, deepening my scowl when he frowned at me. "He'll definitely be at the wedding, as he told me then."
"Can you manipulate him enough to use him?" Nazir asked, leaning back into his chair, pulling out a half-carven block of wood and a small knife from somewhere and carefully started carving the block, refining its shape and smoothing edges he thought was done.
"Cicero didn't know you carved," the Keeper accused, staring at Nazir.
"There are many things you don't know about me, Fool," Nazir grinned, finally glancing at us. It was the first time I'd seen it, too, but I let it be. We all had different habits and hobbies: this was also the first time I had been in the Sanctuary for as long as I had been here, so close to everyone, so I probably didn't know half the things they did in their free time anyway. I had always preferred it that way, for the simple reason that if there was no-one to care about, there was no-one to lose.

I glanced at Cicero, and saw him frown at Nazir. "Anyway, back to the contract; I don't think so. Maybe, if I could plan the right trick, but I wouldn't bet on it. He's too…" I struggled for the word, frowning. "Un-assassinly; very…" I suddenly remembered the word he had used to describe himself when we first met. "He's too Dovahkiin."
My Family stared blankly for a moment, and I just shrugged in reply. "Cicero sees how that could be a problem… but what if the mighty Listener hid behind the bride's chair, and –" he leapt up, knocking his chair over and whipping out his dagger, "STAB-STAB-STAB-STAB-STABBED! the bride?" Cicero picked up his chair and sat down, sheathing his blade and grinned brightly. "Or poisoned the drinks with that wonderful poison of Babette's humble Cicero has yet to see in action? Wouldn't that be interesting?!"
Festus nodded from his side of the table, finally agreeing with something that he might approve of. "Eh, I have a wonderful spell to perfect. Can't say anything just yet, but I do believe it will be my best yet!" he managed to exclaim, wheezing a chuckle, and made his way to the spell-making altar.
"I think Babette's idea with the statue is perfect," Aventus said, grinning excitedly. "Heck, even poisoning the lot!"
"Perhaps, but then you kill everyone who is supposed to live to tell the tale," Nazir returned, lifting his carving and studying it as he might study a gem. "Who can tell the story if they're dead? Unless, of course, they're undead, and I doubt the Empire will allow Necromancers to practice their art after almost three-hundred years…" his rich laughter rumbled from his chest briefly.
"Hmm…" I agreed, rolling my eyes when Aventus dipped his head: he should have a little more faith in his plans, and fight for their potential, but I wasn't about to stick up for him, or even point that out.

I shifted uncomfortably, my clothes cool from the training. "I'm going to clean up, then look over these sketches again, and start getting everything together for this assassination. Long live the Dark Brotherhood!"
"Long live the Dark Brotherhood!" my siblings chorused loudly, and I grinned as they laughed. My gaze met Babette's for a moment, and I thought she mouthed 'Listener', but I couldn't be sure. There was one thing I could be sure of, though: this was it, this was what we had been waiting for, without even knowing it.

Cicero and Veezara – and sometimes Nazir – took over our little brother's training from then on, and days passed quickly as we all helped our beloved Listener prepare for this assassination. The first in many, all to kill the Emperor of Tamriel! Cicero couldn't wait! Oh, how I wanted to go with, to help hunt, and stalk, and kill, with mine and my Listener's skill! Oh, it would be glorious, sweet Night Mother! To honor our Dread Father in such a way… oh, guide and protect your Listener, my Alysa – Cicero knows you will, of course, humble, dear Cicero has never doubted you, not ever!

Well, maybe once or twice, but he has always stayed true! Always gone back to believing! Cicero always will. He just wishes he could have spent a little more time with honorable Alysa before she left – she only had less than a week before she had to go, anyway, and then she would spend at least one-and-a-bit months on the roads to Solitude – Cicero tried so hard not to sob at that pun, terrible-terrible pun – and perhaps a few weeks and a bit if she cut across the country….

And then there would be a three-day reception, and his dear Alysa would strike – she would bring the Brotherhood glory, and fear and respect once again! Cicero was excited for his Listener, for the Night Mother, for Sithis, and he was beginning to think that all of his brothers and sisters would see that pretender's heresies, and follow the Old Ways once more, and Cicero knew, he just knows, that everything will work out, and the other place will soon need to be filled – with new members, new brothers and sisters as they come, called home by you, Unholy Matron, and guided by our Father. "Cicero is so proud to be a part of all of this, sweet Mother," Cicero murmurs, gathering his oils and his tools, standing before your closed coffin, ready to oil and clean and preserve and Keep, as a Keeper should.