A/N: And here's another one!:D I didn't say it in the previous chapter (kinda forgot – sorry) but I've finished the editing and I've posted the new versions along with chapter 19 when it came up. So, without further ado, may the Night Mother wrap you in her cold, loving embrace as you review.

Chapter 20: Bound Until Death, Part I

It was ready! She was leaving, and Cicero felt a little sad. Most of the Sanctuary was going or gone, or still had to come back: Aventus was out on his first with Gabriella, and that horrid, stupid lapdog of the pretender was also gone – for that, Cicero was thrilled. He had danced and cheered and jeered and shrieked and giggled and cackled with pure ecstasy that the horrid, mean wolf-man was gone! Gone, gone GONE! I was so happy! But then, so was Babette the un-child and Festus was only due to return after Alysa was gone.

It was just Veezara the Shadowscale, Nazir and the pretender in the Sanctuary for a few days. But now, the day before dear Alysa was bound to leave, she sat cross-legged in front of the Night Mother's open coffin, looking up into our Mother's face with the look of someone in a deep conversation with someone else. Cicero felt a pang of hurt in his chest that it hadn't been me who heard your voice, sweet Mother, but I know one can't be Keeper and Listener at the same time.

Cicero just watched, leaning against a table with his arms folded over his motley, cap a little skew, but Cicero would rather watch the Listener than fix it, and his dear Alysa was always enjoyable to watch, oh, Cicero knows he should feel a little guilty about caring and loving for another, but dear Night Mother, would you not have stopped this if it was not what you wanted? Cicero had always sworn to protect you, and then the Listener, when he or she – though in this case, definitely a she, sweet Mother – came to be, but even Cicero will admit that he hadn't quite expected this to happen.

But Cicero is not sorry it has! Cicero is very thrilled about it, in fact. Cicero smiles. Oh, I'm so happy, sweet Night Mother, Dread Father: Cicero is humbled, and thanks you for all of it. Now he just needs to find a way to deal with the pretender and her lapdog. Oh-ho-ho… Cicero will definitely find a way to deal with them….

When I stood up from my conversation with the Night Mother, and turned to look at Cicero, he had that dark grin on his face whenever he entertained thoughts of 'dealing with' Astrid and Arnbjorn. They were quite infectious, really. I had found a few of my thoughts turn that way whenever one or the other – or even both – irritated me. It was satisfying, but I was beginning to feel like I needed to get out of this Sanctuary, to hunt, to stalk and kill, to feel again the life force of my prey fade away….

I turned again to close the Night Mother's coffin, and faced the Fool of Hearts, taking him in, and his motley, and his skew cap. A half-grin crept up the side of my face. "Alysa," Cicero said softly, his grey eyes twinkling.
"Cicero," I returned, stepping closer to him.
"Cicero hopes you have a safe journey, and that you'll come back soon. With the whole of Solitude weeping and seeping in blood and tears, and with a very dead Vici soon to be buried," he winked.
I smirked darkly at him. "Oh, I'm sure the whole of Solitude will be shocked. It's just the kind of uproar we want," the air suddenly felt heavy with something, something I couldn't place. "I'll be back in a few weeks, maybe a month or two, and then I'll tell you all about it. Should be a lovely wedding reception."
Cicero giggled, "A 'bloody' good one, tee-hee-hee!"
I snorted, shaking my head. "Goodbye, Cicero. I should be off."
The Keeper pushed off from the table, and embraced me. I returned the gesture a little unsurely, my left cheek pressed to his chest. His arms tightened around me briefly, then he let go. "Hunt well, and the Night Mother and Sithis keep you, since you won't have a Keeper," he giggled.
I flashed my teeth at him. "And you, Cicero."

I turned and left immediately, the heaviness in the air gone and I realized how eager I was to get on the road. My pack lay by the door, and I hefted it onto my shoulders. I scowled a quick goodbye at Nazir when he joked that I'd catch the bride's bouquet, and Veezara had stopped his training briefly to remind me about the potential escapes.

Astrid stood by the Black Door. "Good luck, and bring honor, glory and fearful respect to our Family, Alysa."
"You know I will," I heaved the Door open, and stepped into a grey morning. It will rain soon, I thought, tacking up my steed and riding off. Now you shall be bound together until death, newlyweds.

A dark grin spread over my face. I missed this.

The capital of Skyrim came into view little less than a month later – I had cut across the country – and I couldn't help but marvel at the imposing city perched high over the Sea of Ghosts. I rode up along the road to a small farm where rows and rows of stables were, and left my horse there, tossing a few coins at a young boy who swore up and down to the Divines that he would look after the palomino. I spared him a brief smile and tousled his hair a little grudgingly on my part before hefting my pack a little higher – trying to find a more comfortable spot – and walking up the rest of the way to the capital. Hordes of people were trying to get into the city, and I was glad that I had decided to pull on my plain leather armor before making my way to the road – security had almost doubled what Veezara had told me, and it was difficult to get into the crowded city – I only saw the inside of it by midafternoon, impatiently inching along as the guards stopped certain people and searched their belongings. I was fortunate to escape that.

The grey stone city was brightly decorated with flags and flowers and whatever other fanciful things that came with the wedding – in fact, the place was abuzz with the impending celebrations. The entire city was shutting down for these three days – only the inns and restaurants would stay open to cater for the people. I decided to stay in the Winking Skeever, wondering briefly if I would see Tawarthion there, or if he had bought a house in the city. Jarl Elisif probably gave him one since he's a Thane of Solitude, I finally thought, dropping my bag at the counter and sighed when the innkeep turned to me.

He was a broad, fat Nord, and wiped his hands on a cloth as he looked at me expectantly. "How can I help you?" he asked, tucking the cloth into the front of his apron and leaned on the counter.
"I'd like a room for the next five days," I said. I had arrived a day early for the wedding, and I would probably take the first day to see exactly how many people there were before striking.
The innkeep nodded. "Sure thing. That'll be fifty gold," he half-smiled. "You a guest of the wedding?"
I scoffed. "No; does it look like I'm rich enough to be invited? And don't you think I'd be staying some place other than this hole?" I handed him fifty septims, and he swept them up greedily, a small frown on his face as he tried and failed somewhat to be polite. I was more than a little grumpy from queuing to get inside, and I wasn't interested in pleasantries and such. I narrowed my eyes slightly as he called a tavern girl to show me to my room upstairs, handing me a key before he shouted across the din to another girl. I followed the first up to my room, dipping my head in thanks as she scurried away. I made myself comfortable in the small room, keeping the majority of my things in my bag, and kicked it under the bed after I folded a few civilian clothes into the small drawers at the end of the bed. I let myself out, locking the door.

When I returned to the common room, I heard the soft voice of a woman singing along to a lute. It was the most beautiful think I had ever heard: soft and gentle, laced with a kind of admiration and emotion that made the song so powerful. I moved closer to the source to see who it was, marveling at the slight shiver that traveled down my back.

"With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord Art," she sang, and she finally came into view.

She must have been a Breton, by her slight build and short stature, but she was beautiful, even dressed in the studded armor she wore. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders and was a light blonde – almost silvery-white – and she had pale green eyes that shone as she sang; her features were all finely sculpted, and she was perfectly curved and rounded in all the right places, and I couldn't help the sudden swell of jealousy that flooded me. What a perfect life she had gotten, while some others got only the scraps…. I wondered briefly if I really wanted to kill her, just to get rid of the person who fueled my jealousy; I was close to deciding I really wanted her dead.

"Believe, believe the Dragonborn comes; it's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes," she sang on, her fingers gently playing the lute.

A sudden thought struck me: wasn't this Lisette? The very one the Dragonborn was in love with? My jealousy was soothed almost instantly, along with my desire to kill her. If she really was Lisette, then I couldn't kill her: probably not even if I had been sent to kill her. She was too close to home, and the way Tawarthion had spoken of her… I couldn't destroy something like that, not for any gold or deity in the world, not when I was beginning to feel something similar myself. I watched and listened until she finished her song, smiling as a few patrons tossed a few coins into a bowl at her feet. I pushed through the last of the crowd, and pulled out a few septims myself. "Thank you," she said, cradling her lute.
I felt my lips twitch weakly in a smile. "You have a gift," I replied, stepping backwards as I straightened. She smiled modestly, and wished me a pleasant stay. I just nodded in return as I tried not to run from the inn. I was missing Cicero far too much….

Once I was outside and wandering through the streets of Solitude, I was able to think a little clearer. I came across a group of bards celebrating what I heard was the Burning of King Olaf, and briefly milled about the festivities, which apparently were held weekly at the behest of Jarl Elisif. I found slightly drunken directions to the Temple of the Divines, and slowly made my way there before it was dark. I managed to get a brief look around, just to see what the place really looked like. The Castle Dour would be difficult to get to, but as long as I was on the parapet walls, I would be able to get there just fine.

I saw the small platform Gabriella had spoken of, and I wondered exactly what she had left there for me. It wasn't particularly eye-catching, and it would be perfect for a ranged attack…. I'd have the night and tomorrow to decide: there was no real reason to rush. Besides, the kill needed to be perfect, and I wanted the world to know that it came from the Dark Brotherhood.

We were the ones to fear, the ones who could get anything done, and nothing could stop us.

Nothing at all.

Before I returned to the Winking Skeever, I made a stop at Radiant Raiment to buy something a little more classy to wear to the wedding. I tried on two dresses, cringing on the inside when I saw that I had to pay almost six hundred septims for them both – so I opted for something more like what I had at the Sanctuary, and still ended up paying double for it.

When I finally returned to the Winking Skeever, a clumsy box under arm, ready to kill an Altmer that crossed my path after the two sisters had seen fit to insult me up, down, left, right and center – which had made me itch to kill them both – it was packed with travelers and residents looking to get drunk and celebrate. I shoved my way through the crowd, almost starting a fight at one point, and finally sank into a chair close to the fire. I leaned my elbows on the table, and put my head in my hands for a moment.

A large serving woman with a low-cut dress hovered over me. "Some'in ta eat, lassie?"
I almost snapped at her when she called me 'lassie'. "Yes, please," I forced out politely. "And some mead, too." The woman nodded, and disappeared through the crowd, slapping away the wandering hands of several drunk patrons. Someone bumped into the back of my chair just as I faced the front again. I spun round, scowling. "Watch it, idiot!" I snapped, glaring up at the offender. My scowl turned into a surprised expression when I saw the offender's face. "Oops," I said, offering a toothy grin that would have made Cicero proud.

Tar looked down at me with a funny expression on his face. "It's… good, to see you too," he finally said, chuckling a little. "I take it the crowds haven't left much room to maneuver?"
"Not in the slightest," I frowned, shaking my head. "So you're here for the wedding and to see Lisette?"
He nodded, his face lighting up immediately at the mention of her name. "Yes, to both. I've actually been trying to convince Corpulus – the innkeep – to let her come with me to the wedding over the next three days, but he just plain refuses, no matter what I offer him!" he scowled darkly, muttering something I might have heard if the inn wasn't so busy.

"Tar!" a soft voice called, and I recognized the voice and face as that of the bard I had been so jealous of earlier as she touched the elf's arm, and he smiled down at her. I glanced away, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "I take it you didn't have any luck with Corpulus, either…" Lisette added, smiling up at Tar.
He sighed and shook his head, just as the serving woman from earlier slammed my food and drink down on my table. "Outta tables, sonny. Pair up if ya know each other," and then she was off again.
"You're welcome to join me if you like," I said, looking back at them. The place was crowded beyond anything I had ever seen – hopefully I wouldn't see it ever again, either. They took me up on my offer after exchanging a glance, and it was a surprisingly pleasant time with both of them. Tar informed us that Uthgerd had gone home to Whiterun to be with her sister for a while, and I told them that my half-brother had been called back to Windhelm for guard duty when Tar asked about Aventus– the poor thing couldn't wait to get out into the field, I'd said.

Eventually the topic had strayed again to Vici's wedding, and I asked about the plans for the next three days. Tar had sighed heavily, swirling the red wine in his goblet and grumbled about sitting through speeches of all sorts the first day for the whole day from both parties – thankfully, he added, he wasn't required to say anything and the Altmer had no plan to, either.

Vici would be making her speeches the following two – apparently she was quite full of herself. Perfect for what I had planned, I thought. Lisette then went on to add that all the citizens of Skyrim had been invited to see the wedding, though surely not all would make it into the area – that explained the public holidays, amongst other reasons.

I hadn't stayed very long after we had finished dinner, opting instead to leave the two of them in relative peace. I glanced over at the innkeeper before I headed up the stairs to my room, the cumbersome box under my arm again. Yes, some gentle persuasion is all that he needs…. I grinned darkly at him as he shouted out orders, and tromped up the stairs to my room. I spent some time working on a few basic plans, knowing that I'd have a much better idea of how and what by the end of tomorrow.

I pulled on the dress after a quick trip to the washrooms to make sure it fit the way it was supposed to, and stared at myself in the mirror, thinking that I would have liked to have Cicero with me for this. I finally pulled the garment off, changing into a more comfortable robe, and collapsed into bed. I slept easily, stirring slightly throughout the night as the noise from below got a little extreme now and again.

I dreamed about the assassination, and when I woke in the morning I almost couldn't believe that I wasn't covered in the blood of my target – and the few others that dared get in my way. I couldn't wait: a dark smirk spread over my face as I thought of the last pieces falling together as a red dawn broke through my window; the last pieces to the beginning of the end of the Dark Brotherhood's misfortune, and the people's lack of respect to my Family.

Let the hunting begin.