A/N: Nothing to say, except Read, Enjoy, and Review! May Sithis and the Night Mother always guide you.

Chapter 32: Patience is a Virtue. Fear is a Hunting Demon

Seri, Astrid and Arnbjorn came back almost two weeks later, and not once did they mention a contract – completed or newly assigned. Arnbjorn was cold as usual, but he was just as cold to Astrid, and once I heard them arguing over why she and Seri had left him behind somewhere, covering their tracks with bits of silver so he couldn't follow them. Uvelaes and Aventus both noticed my growing unease with them, and – probably on Uvelaes' orders – at least one of them was always close to me in the background. It was irritating most of the time, but the fact remained that I didn't know what they had planned, and if Arnbjorn had gone with, but had been left behind…. Seri and Astrid were planning something big, and I didn't like it.

Veezara came back two weeks after that, his armor tattered and torn, but I had never seen him look so utterly…. Ecstatic? Relieved? At peace? Emotions I had discarded again were blazing over his face, his eyes, his very being. I envied him. "Veezara, can I talk to you?" I called, stopping him from heading to the washroom.
He gave me a toothy smile. "Of course, Alysa."
I managed to return a tight smile, and motioned for him to follow me. We stood in the small room in front of Ci- my chambers. "How have you been?"
"Well, and yourself?"
"Well enough, all things considered." No-one needed to know how desperately I was clinging to the fading scent of a sadistic clown, no-one needed to know I was trying to study what Keeping tomes I now possessed to act as Keeper and Listener, titles I wasn't sure I wanted anymore.
"Ah, I see," the Shadowscale nodded sympathetically. "Is there something you wanted to talk about in particular, Alysa?"
I nodded. "A while ago you said you weren't as alone as you thought you were. I was too focused on the assassination to ask what you meant, and then Babette mentioned you've been visiting a Dwemer ruin quite often recently –"
"No-one else can know about this!" he hissed, stepping closer to me.
I narrowed my eyes. "Everyone already noticed. If Astrid doesn't know yet, Seri will tell her soon. Either way, what you do there isn't my business until it becomes dangerous to the Family."
"Yes, of course. Alysa… there is another. But I cannot say more, not yet. Astrid will find out soon, as you said, and the only way I can continue visiting this Dwemer ruin is if you, as Listener, send me out to scout for new members."
"Another like…?" I asked, almost disbelieving his entire statement. If what he said was true…. "Fine, I'll send you out tomorrow, and take as much time as you need to… find your recruits."

I'd never seen any one person look so thankful before. But this, however he had stumbled upon it, was huge for the Dark Brotherhood. It was exceptional. If it was true.

Seri had the look of a child caught with her hand in the honey treat jar whenever I made eye contact with her, and for the life of me I couldn't find out why. Astrid had shuttered herself in her chambers, and even Arnbjorn had a hard time getting close to her. She had handed the task of killing the Emperor to Festus, who ended up sharing it with Babette and Gabriella, when the Dunmer woman was in the Sanctuary. So Babette was the one who handled the assassination in the end. This was one plan she didn't quite relish – it was too boring for her liking.

"It lacks flair and drama! I'm so glad you're doing it, Alysa," she complained.
I rolled my eyes. "That's what you always say – unless it's a wedding," I rush to fill in before she can say it. The little vampire still wishes she had done Vici's wedding – or at least attended. We were seated in the arcane corner, all the papers and extras I'd need for the assassination scattered over the table.
Babette pouted, then pointed to the writ. "Obviously this is important. Thankfully, Commander Maro doesn't know your face yet, so you'll show this to him when you arrive at the Castle Dour in Solitude. Thereafter, you'll probably be working with the chefs there to make whatever dish the Emperor requested – I suspect the Potage one –"
"Potage le Magnifique! And Listener, you still haven't collected your payment and bonus for the previous contract," Festus scowled from the spell altar.
"Yes, the Potage le Magnifique, as Festus said, so it should be fairly easy for you. Although, you might need to add in some 'special ingredients' that only the Gourmet placed in his special version of the meal. Finally, you'll need to put this root in if you plan on poisoning the Emperor." Babette placed a long, twisted and knotted root on the table. "This is the Jarrin root; it is extremely poisonous when ingested, so don't eat it by mistake. A single taste will be enough to kill the Emperor, or anyone who tastes the food; so make sure only the Emperor eats it, or the mission will fail. It's fine to touch, though. Nothing's happened to me, at least."
"You're a vampire. Nothing can happen to you. But fine. I'll put the root in last, right before I serve the Emperor his greatest meal ever," I replied dryly, not in the mood to continue this conversation. I want to head out, and make a stop in Whiterun to cash in on Gabriella's bonus. Not that I trust some strange woman's supposed predictions.

And Festus was right – I had been home for two months and I haven't stopped the old mage once to collect my dues.

I had convinced myself it was because I had been busy covering Veezara's absences from Astrid and trying to keep Seri in the dark without cutting her off completely, and finding out why she looked so guilty. It made me want to carve out her eyes and tear her face apart. But the real reason I had been putting off my meeting with Festus was because I was… afraid.
Afraid of another conversation about the Keeper, and I wasn't up for that. Thinking was one thing, but talking and feeling…. That was beyond me, far beyond. Babette stood and left, heading out to Falkreath for the market with Aventus. They ended up looking similar enough to each other that Babette had made a point of tracing their heritage – perhaps they 'really were related by blood'. Personally, she was just bored and loved any excuse to word-play with 'blood'.

I leaned back, stretching my back and arms before wrapping the root in a white cloth, splaying my fingers on the table. Festus sat down across from me. "Two-thousand gold for the assassination of the Gourmet – Sithis keep his soul for me in the Void – and this enchanted ring," he wheezed, coughing as he carefully placed the ring on the table next to the coinpurse. It was a plain, black band with a square sliver of amethyst inlaid on the top. "This is the Nightweaver's Band, a ring I used when I was younger. Its enchantment improves sneaking and lowers the cost of destruction spells, though I doubt the latter will be of use to you," he chuckled to himself. He started to say something else, but frowned and pursed his lips instead. "Good luck on this one with the Emperor, and don't get caught, Listener Alysa," he patted my hand, then stood and hobbled down to the training room.

I stared at the wall opposite me until Babette had come back with a heavy basket of herbs.

There was stone and snow, and a butcher. No, a Butcher, and he knew how to cut and carve, and what was good and what was not. He knew the tendons and the sinews, the joints and the bones, the cuts…. And he took what he wanted, but never ate it, until one day a laughing, killing jester found him. But now…. Now it is Cold and Black, like the Void; and there is no-one, nothing – just the nothingness that is the Void. Or, perhaps the Void was something, just not the something others thought of…. But what of a firelight there? And a flicker over here? Nay, something was something, and nothing was nothing. That is how it is, and perhaps, just perhaps, this was something of nothing….

I rode slowly on Shadowmere, appreciating the harsh Skyrim landscape as it lay around us. The ruins of Helgen were still smoldering from the dragon attack so long ago, and not even bandits dared live within the charred and burnt walls of my home village. It had changed so much since I had been there, and the broken remains had made it difficult to move through the blocked and fallen in streets. Shadowmere had been steady and surefooted through the mess, leaving me free to look around me.

I found I didn't even miss the place, didn't find the random memories of a once-good childhood pleasant or unwanted. They simply existed. It might have been fascinating, if I wasn't preoccupied with the lingering smell of death and burnt humans and animals. Helgen wouldn't stand on this land again – perhaps somewhere else, many years from now. I rode out of the village, moving my hands slightly up Shadowmere's neck, and he broke into a gentle lope. It was snowy and cold mountain country, and only relinquished its snow when Riverwood came into view less than a day later. I was grateful for the warmth of the inn, although the elf-Nord-Breton love triangle was infuriating. And strangely… I found it rather petty of the woman to string both of them along like that. But I couldn't bring myself to do much more than hole up in one of the many rooms in the inn. It must have been quite a popular place.

And then Whiterun came along the following afternoon, and I rode up to the large stables that doubled as a horse breeding yard. A group of excited stable boys ran up to me, eager to take an unruly stallion off a slight girl's hands.

I smirked. "Shadowmere," I breathed.
His ears flickered backwards, and he reared up with a low squeal, striking the ground hard with his hooves. "I'll take him inside, just make sure a stable is ready." I dismounted, and only one older, more muscular boy stayed, and led the way to a stable. I took my pack from the saddle, walking to my steed's face and motioning for him to follow me. A sigh and a nose in my back told me he was following. I left the daedra horse with all the comforts he could want – which left my coinpurse considerably lighter – and meandered up the busy path to the city. A Khajiit caravan was camped at the base of the walls, calling to passersby, mewling and hissing to each other and small kittens I couldn't help but stare at. They were surprisingly… cute. The word didn't settle well with my general feel, but they were something to see. It brought the first twitch of a genuine smile to my face in a very long time.

I hurried past, managing to push through the throngs of travelers and merchants trying to get into the trading capital of Skyrim and get inside before the guards started turning larger groups of people away. I almost made it to the Bannered Mare when light fingers brushed by my coinpurse. I snatched the hand, yanking the person closer to me with a snarl. I came face to face with a young Breton child – she couldn't have been older than eight – with large, innocent green eyes and a broad, gap-toothed grin. "My 'pologies, miss. Must've mis-stepped!" she called as I let her go, instinctively checking for the rest of my possessions. I glared after her as she ran off behind the houses. I checked into the Bannered Mare, ignoring the wolf whistles and cat-calls of drunken Nords and other unpleasant men. I locked my things in the tiniest room the inn had, and stopped a barmaid for directions to Olava's house. "Be'ind Breeze'ome, the one for sale down the road to the gate!" she shouted over the ruckus of a bar brawl.
I sniffed in disgust, and left the stuffy alcohol-stench behind.

Olava had been quite easy to find. She was sitting outside her house on a bench, staring up at the sky. "Olava?" I asked, coming closer.
It took her a few seconds to look at me and answer. "Come to Olava for a reading, did you? Sorry, pup, but I'm not quite in the mood," she said, then stared up at the clouds again.
"I have a token of yours."
"Oh?" I finally had the woman's attention. "Let me see it, then."
I handed her the small, square stone. "Oh, goodness me! You're a friend of Gabriella's, then."
"I am, yes. Will you give me a reading?"
The old woman scoffed, frowning at me briefly before grinning mischievously. "Yes. Yes, I surely can. It's not something I do lightly, mind you, and it's not as specific as you might want, remember that, Friend of Gabriella's. But yes. I will do this for you. Please, come sit by me, and relax." I stalked closer, hesitantly sitting down next to the old seer when she scooted over. She immediately took both my hands in hers, holding them firmly between hers. "Free your mind. Yes, that's it…."

I was beginning to think only Gabriella knew what she was doing when she gave readings. But I took a deep breath, and cleared my mind anyway. Olava closed her eyes.
"Yes, yes…. I see… a cave. No, not a cave. A… home? A place you feel secure, anyhow. You will find safety there, sanctuary, so to speak. But your destiny is dark, dark like your past. Oh yes, so dark. But! much of it has been fulfilled. You have found your sanctuary, and the comforting words of a mother's unconditional love. And you have companionship, both from your siblings and your lover. A child of night, and a stalker of the sands, and a wandering troubadour. The troubadour is lost for now, but will find the path home. Together, you are a family." She stopped suddenly, her grasp on my hands suddenly becoming painfully tight. "Oh, but before you are family, there will be blood! Such blood!" Olava gasped deeply, and I started tugging my hands away. There will be blood! Such blood! I couldn't lose any more of my Family! "Wait!" Olava commanded. "There's something else: a potential for adventure, and wealth! It is a ruin, ripe for the plunder. Deepwood Redoubt, far to the northwest…. Through there, this Deepwood Redoubt, is… Hag's End. The last resting place of an Assassin of Old. A Dark Brother, who bequeaths his ancient earthly possessions… to you, Alysa."

I wrenched my hands out of hers, terrified for the first time in years. My heart was thundering in my chest, and more a moment I couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

But the moment passed quickly, and I ran. I ran, weaving between the houses and finally ended up in front of a massive white tree. It was just beginning to bloom, and the flowers where pure white and deep pink. I stared at the tree, amazed at the sheer size of such a thing. I breathed heavily, slowly walking closer to it and touched the smooth bark of the trunk, running my fingers along the grain.
"The Gildergreen is quite awe-inspiring, don't you think?"

I spun round, my back to the tree. A priestess had spoken, and judging by the light green and white of her robes, she must have been a priestess of Kynareth. She laughed, covering her mouth shyly. "Forgive me, I thought you had heard me come up behind you. Stay as long as you like, and let the Gildergreen ease your troubled thoughts. Our lady Kynareth hears all through the leaves of the Gildergreen."

And just like that, she turned and left. I looked up at the branches high above my head. Yes, I would stay for a while, for the peace I needed to think Olava's prophecy through.