A/N: What is this?! I'm still alive?! Wow. Ok, so here's another chapter at long last – currently busy with the next one in all honesty. I am inspired! So, read and review, and may the Night Mother and Dread Father always guide and keep you, Dark Sisters and Dark Brothers!
P.S. I was listening to super cheerful music while writing this, so it's a weird comboXD

EDIT: Added 600 words because they didn't actually fit in the next chapter:3

Chapter 33: A Meal to Die For

I've found the Sanctuary in Dawnstar, that's the home Olava mentioned, I thought, running through the prophecy for the umpteenth time since I had heard it that afternoon. It was sometime close to midnight, and I was lying on my bed in the inn, staring at the ceiling. 'Child of the night' must refer to Babette, because she's the only vampire I know, unless a new sibling comes along. Stalker of the sands… Nazir? He came from Hammerfell. But what about the others? What about Uvelaes and Aventus? The pretender – I sneered at the title I gave Astrid, surprised at the sudden pain the associated memories brought – her husband, Seri, Veezara, Festus… Gabriella. Olava said nothing about them. Why? Were they not important enough to mention, or am I missing something else here?

I half-sigh, half-growl as I roll upright, rubbing my hands over my face. 'Mother's unconditional love' can only refer to the Night Mother; reference to all the blood means either many contracts will die by our hands and thus unite us as a Family, or most of us will die somehow. This is not an ideal situation. And then there's the 'wandering troubadour' Olava spoke of…. The only troubadour I knew was the Keeper, and he isn't alive anymore. He can't be alive – I heard his breath stop, felt his heart slow…. There's no way in Oblivion, the Void, or Sovengarde he could still be alive! I took deep breaths to steady myself. No, that can only have been something she said to shake me up. He. Is. Dead. Dead! I was there! I was there….

I lifted my gaze to the sky outside my window. No guard would allow a lone person out of these gates at this time of night, but I wanted to wander around. I stood, pulling a cloak around me as I left the room. I locked the door out of habit, and went out into the slightly warmer air of Whiterun Hold. Few people were out aside from the three or four guards I passed, and I passed by the mead hall of Jorrvaskr. I stopped to stare at the building, not thinking of much in particular. "You interested in joining, Kinswoman?" a voice asked.
I turned to see a woman dressed in ancient Nord armor armed with a hunting bow, and three long, dark stripes across her face flanked by one tall and broad, and another, slightly shorter and leaner, Nord men who looked to be brothers. "No, my skills aren't quite suited for open combat, as might be required of a Companion," I faced the three of them, unsure of what to make of such an imposing group.
"We could always take on the quiet types – I'm a huntress, after all. If you change your mind, just say Aela the Huntress recommends you. You look like a woman of spirit and action, and I like that," Aela declared, giving me a wolfish grin I suddenly recognized as the one werewolves tend to give.
I couldn't help the huge grin that spread over my face. "I'll keep that in mind, Aela the Huntress. Alysa Ice-Wrath."
Two of the Companions grinned at me, and the shorter of the two brothers scoffed, looking away. "We should get back to Jorrvaskr," he said quietly in a heavy, yet oddly pleasant, Nord accent.
I nodded in greeting as they walked away. I wondered if they would catch Arnbjorn's scent on me, if I adjusted the cape around me. My Family's werewolf had a habit of sniffing out where everyone went when he was particularly bored, and I was sure Aela might do the same subconsciously. He hasn't done that in a while, actually, I suddenly realized, adjusting my cloak. I could swear I saw Aela pause and glance behind her, but I was already on my way back to the inn.

I'd be out of this city by daybreak.

Sithis-cursed Forsworn camp, I snarled, three Forsworn grunts dead behind me, and a camp-full ahead. Deepwood Redoubt was swarming with the Bretons, and I had no doubt that Hag's End was somewhere inside the camp. I'd have to come back with a sibling if I wanted whatever prize was promised – besides, a camp of this size had to have at least one Briarheart and one Hagraven. I slunk away, vowing to return with a sibling.

But I was becoming more and more concerned about my Family the further and further away I rode from them. I didn't like worrying about them this much – didn't like worrying about anything in general – but this was beginning to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

I was finally in the capital of Solitude, little less than two weeks after scouting Deepwood Redoubt. Security had tripled since I had last been here, and I had no doubt it had everything to do with the Emperor's presence here. I couldn't have stopped the grin even if I wanted to – no-one was safe from a Dark Sister. Especially not the target. I bought a room at the Winking Skeever, dropping a fair-sized coinpurse on the counter to buy anonymity and the most private room in the inn. I dropped my things on the bed, sorting through the few things I had brought with me. I had obtained a set of chef's clothes (which I promptly modified to tear off, when the need arises), along with a ridiculous chef's hat. I suspected I'd need them while inside Castle Dour. After that, it was merely walking in and announcing myself as the Gourmet, and then making whatever special dish I felt like. I supposed this 'Potage le- Magnifique' would be the dish to make, as Babette had suggested. It was the Gourmet's signature dish, after all. I'll need to make doubly sure of the ingredients if I have to make it myself, I thought, scanning through a copy of the Gourmet's book I had picked up in the common room below. Blah, blah, blah…. One of the resident chefs can prepare the most of it. I'll put some… special ingredients in. I'll make it up once I'm there. I would only carry my daggers and writ with me in a satchel, along with my secret ingredient, the Jarrin root. The rest of my things were tied to Shadowmere's saddle, and I had called Lucien to keep an eye on things and take Shadowmere around to the Castle Dour bridge and tower during the night, and hide there while I completed the assassination. The Gourmet's writ detailed the bridge and tower as a discrete entrance for both the emperor and the Gourmet, if he so wished.

I knew Shadowmere would have moved around the city and hid in the forest by himself, but the matter was a simple illusion – people were less likely to approach a horse laden with daedric weapons and other goods if a ghost stood by it. The conjurer was surely nearby – summoned beings rarely left their summoner's side, and didn't get far before they banished themselves. At least, that was what I understood about Conjuration from Uvelaes' occasional, passionate lectures on the subject.

I would head into Castle Dour in the morning, and get the last of my things ready tonight. I could visibly display at most one dagger, my satchel was small enough to keep with me at all times. I'd lose the larger canvas bag and the leather armor I was currently wearing, but that was ok. I would wear my armor tomorrow. The chef's clothes would thankfully cover everything completely, so there was no need to try and cover that up with a coat or cloak or something else that would look cheap. I wasn't a seamstress – I only knew enough to get by as an assassin, and repair minor tears in my armor. I couldn't create whole new outfits that didn't look like they were made by toddlers. This looks good, my boots will at least be covered by the skirt, and a dagger strapped to my thigh will go unnoticed easily. If they search my satchel, they'll find the writ and the root, which I can pass off as my secret ingredient. They'll let me pass. All I still needed to do was cut up the root into fine pieces, and place that in my satchel for tomorrow afternoon.

It was only a matter of waiting now. But as I tried to relax in my suite, that pit which had been growing in my stomach since I left the Sanctuary was heavy and painful. And, no matter how hard I tried to ask the Night Mother – and even Sithis – about it, I got no answer.

What would happen, considering how awful I felt?

I slept fitfully, and probably looked as awful as I felt when I left the inn, canvas bag and leather armor discarded under the bed at the inn. I was checking into Castle Dour this afternoon as per my writ, and I didn't have time to mull over whatever worries I had about my Family. I walked up to the Castle without really looking at the Pentius Oculatus guard. "Hold! Who are you?" he demanded.

I glanced up, shocked to see Commander Maro standing at the large wooden doors. It was all I could do not to stare in shock and then snarl in disgust. He looked haggard, as if life had eaten away at him. He's probably been that way since his precious son died. They should've known better than to mess with the Dark Brotherhood. I handed him the writ. "I am the Gourmet, here as requested by the Emperor, Titus Mede the Second."
Maro glanced at the writ. "Yes, yes of course," he waved a hand at me, suddenly recognizing the chef's clothes. "Go on through, Gourmet; one of my men will guide you to the kitchens."

I nodded, taking back the writ and following an agent inside. He motioned to a final archway, where I could see several cooks busy with food. "Thank you," I said curtly, turning away and walking into the kitchen. I almost wanted to laugh – I was so out of place here.

An Imperial woman looked up and right at me, and gasped, almost dropping the bowl she held. "Oh! Oh, you're a Nord! I never would have guessed it!" she gushed, hastily shoving the bowl into a young girl's arms. "But, where in the world did you learn to cook like that?! Here, in Skyrim? Or, no – maybe it was somewhere less –"
"Enough! I, the Gourmet, am here to cook, not make idle talk! Let us begin."
I allowed a small smirk at the woman's stutter. "O-of course! Forgive me. I am Gianna, and these are my assistants…" she trailed, clearing her throat and gathering her wits while I glanced around the kitchen nonchalantly. "Well, the Emperor has requested your signature dish, the Potage le Magnifique. I've… taken the liberty to get it started already, but your cook book only says so much…."

I glanced back at her, nodding and following her gesture to a large pot in the middle of the kitchen. I peered inside as she kept talking about how everyone made the meal differently, even listing a few bizarre methods and ingredients. "But of course everyone makes it differently. A master never shares her secrets," I grinned, pulling on a ridiculous chef's hat. "We're going to make it my way just for the Emperor!"

Gianna looked ready to cry in joy. "We're ready whenever you are, Gourmet!"
Fabulous, I thought. I haven't the slightest idea what to put in…. My eyes wandered over the shelves, stopping at a sweetroll. Cicero came to mind. "A sweetroll…"
"A sweetroll? Ooh, how decadent! I would never have guessed that!" Gianna gushed, looking at me expectantly. I hadn't realized I had spoken.
"A splash of mead is next, Gianna."
Assistants scurried around the kitchen, bringing everything to Gianna to place or pour into the stew. "What next, Gourmet?"

I was beginning to enjoy myself, so when I spied a certain ingredient, I simply couldn't resist. "Now we shall add… a giant's toe!" I exclaimed. The entire kitchen went silent. I could barely suppress the grin on my face. "Forgive me, a… giant's toe? Are you… sure about that?" Gianna asked, incredulous that such an absurd thing would go into a meal.
I turned a glare on her. "Do not question the Gourmet! I said a giant's toe!"
"Yes, yes of course! Be snappy!" she finished, snapping her fingers at her still-shocked assistants to take down the toe and cut it up. Festus would have disapproved of such an unsavory thing inside such a fancy meal. Gianna stirred the mixture while two assistants helped the toe into the stew. I was officially keeping that stew very far from my mouth. "I'm sorry about that, Gourmet. I truly am. What else is there to add to the stew?"
"You must add a septim to the Potage le Magnifique."
"A, a septim? As in, the gold coin?" Gianna looked excited. I nodded. "Truly brilliant! That would give the Potage le Magnifique a slightly metallic – but delicious – aftertaste! Exceptional…" she paused to taste the stew, humming in satisfaction. "I dare say, it seems done! Anything else and we may dilute the distinct flavours!"

I simply smiled and nodded. Obviously the giant's toe was quite the addition to the meal…. "There is a final ingredient, the one which makes the original Potage le Magnifique something to die for," I grinned, pulling out the diced Jarrin root. I was about to empty it out into the pot when Gianna stopped me. "Are you sure? Anything else may dilute the flavours…"
I grinned at her. "Gianna…. Who here is the Gourmet? And do I not speak of a secret ingredient in my cook book?"

The Imperial woman blushed deeply with a nervous giggle. "Well, yes, of course! It's your recipe." She stirred as I added the root, and as she was about to taste the stew I gently smacked her hand.
"Now now, can't spoil the very best for the Emperor, can you?" I chided.
Gianna blushed even deeper. "No, I suppose not," she giggled. "Well, I'll lead the way up to the dining hall. But, before we go, I just want to say it has truly been an honour to work with the greatest chef in all, well, in all of the Empire!"

I simply smiled. "Lead on, Gianna."
She nodded, and two young Imperial men took up either side of the pot, hoisting it onto their shoulders. "I'm sure the Emperor and his guests are dying to meet you!" Gianna gushed, quickly taking the lead. I followed, throwing the hat and my satchel down on a table, and the pot came behind us. I wouldn't need the writ to get out of here – I'd need speed and cunning. "Oh, Gianna?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"Are there many entrances to the dining hall?"
"Yes! Two – the one we will use, and one leading out to a balcony and the Castle Dour Tower."
"Ah, thank you," I said breezily. The very exit I had been hoping for.

So far, everything was running so smoothly, I could barely contain myself. The Emperor of Tamriel would soon be dead!

We headed up a flight of stairs and down a corridor. Two Solitude guards stood at the door, and I gave a small smile at them as I passed. The bad feeling was back again, but I had to play the part – there was too much at stake now if I failed to see it through.

Inside the dining hall was a long wooden table, with Jarls and ambassadors and Council Members and other royalty and nobility all along its length. The emperor and two nobles were discussing my previous targets, and the old man was assuring them of his safety, as well as theirs. How sweet, I sneered in my head. The Emperor stood, seated at the head of the table to my left.

"Aha! Here we are. Honored guests," he said, speaking loudly and clearly. It wasn't nearly as convincing as Tawarthion's voice was – but I supposed that had to do with the power of the Voice. "I present to you – the Gourmet!" he gestured to me, and I came up to his side, dipping my head at the rest of the table. The stew came in next, and the smell was quite delicious. "Ah, the Potage le Magnifique! So delicious. My friends, as Emperor, I of course reserve the right of first taste!"

The guests laughed at the joke, and the emperor chuckled in good humor. Then he turned to me and said, "I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time, and you're not at all what I expected. I imagined you'd be fatter, honestly!" he laughed, and I hummed along with a tight smile. Titus spoke a little louder as he sat down. "Now, you've done your duty and we're all very grateful. I'd like to eat."

I stepped aside for Gianna and her assistants to ladle the stew into a golden bowl that made my stomach turn. I hovered behind Emperor Titus Mede II's chair, scanning the assembled guests for the Dragonborn and my client, Amaund Motierre. I could see neither.

And the fool ate the stew. "Oh! Oh how marvelous! Just delicious. It is everything I had hoped it would be!" he praised, and I smiled broadly, back by his side. "It…." He stopped, his face contorting. My smile wavered only slightly as he struggled to breathe. "I… I think some– something– thing's… wrong… I…" he gurgled, blood oozing out of his mouth as he convulsed, falling forwards into the stew. Women screamed, men shouted at the guards were all a mess.

"Hail Sithis!" I whispered, running for the door opposite to the entrance and pulling off the clothes I used to hide my armor. Gianna was screaming out denials and our innocence against accusations of murder, and I was out before the guards could catch me.

What had I been worrying about?

I was out of that death trap and right into something much worse outside. I skidded to a halt, my hood just in place. I sneered. "Commander Maro, what a surprise."
The man scowled, clapping slowly, mockingly as two other agents came up behind him. "Well done, Assassin! That man was, by far, the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has ever employed!" he laughed hollowly. "I'm glad he's dead. Ah, but, do you know what? I'm even happier that you killed him. You, a filthy, low-class assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, have just made an attempt on the Emperor's life."

Sweet Sithis, that wasn't the Emperor?! I bared by teeth at Maro.

"What? Didn't you think there would be a decoy in your great plan? Didn't your precious deities tell you this would happen? Ha ha! Just as pathetic as I had assumed."
"You know nothing about us!" I hissed, furious. But I was worried, too – what happens now?

"You should be proud of your plan – it would have succeeded, had it been the real Emperor inside instead of that gods-damned idiot. Tell me, are you really surprised to see me here, telling you about your failure?" I narrowed my eyes at the Pentius Oculatus agents, glancing between them all, my fingers inching towards my daggers. "I certainly was, when two members of your 'Family' –" he sneered, his fingers moving in quotation marks "– came to me with the plan. We worked out a deal, you see. An exchange, if you will. And we agreed to this: I get you, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue its existence!"
"That bitch will pay for this!" I growled without thinking. This is what Astrid had planned when she left Arnbjorn behind! And why Seri looked so guilty before I left….
Maro laughed heartily this time, slapping a gauntleted hand against his thigh. "Oh! So you know who came to me, after all? This just proves why the Dark Brotherhood has failed. You cannot eliminate your own when you know they will betray you. That, is weakness. But, do you know what?" he said, spreading his arms, his agents drawing their swords. "I've changed my mind! How about this? I kill you, and butcher each and every one of your miserable friends? Your Sanctuary's being put to the sword right now!"

My sneer fell away. The Sanctuary… my Family…. No!

Maro crowed triumphantly at my reaction. "That's what I think of this 'deal'. You killed my son! All of you! And now you'll pay the price. Kill her. And make sure there's nothing left to bury."

The commander stood back, and his agents charged forwards.

I reacted, whipping out my daggers, deflecting and twisting out of the reach of their thick swords.

I kicked out, tripping one.

Ducked under a wild swing, coming right behind the agent's defence and cut his throat, hauling him in front of me as the other lunged, impaling his companion.

I could hear Lucien calling me further away – was he below the bridge?

And then the second agent was dead and Maro charged forwards, screaming out his rage and pain. I flew around him, falling and rolling to my feet with the momentum.

I raced forwards, and slammed the pommel of my dagger into the back of his neck before he could turn. The Imperial fell to the ground, and I cursed when I realized the blow wouldn't kill him. But I needed to get back to the Sanctuary – needed to save the others if I couldn't warn them.

"LUCIEN! LUUCCIIIEEEEEENN!" I screamed, racing down the stairs in the tower. I leapt down the last five, but as I jumped I felt a muscle pull in my ankle. I started falling, but cold, ghostly arms caught me.

"My Listener?"
"To the Sanctuary! We need to go! They're already there!"

The ghost nodded, and Shadowmere was there as well, kneeling for me to pull myself into the saddle. I was barely upright before I dug my heels into Shadowmere instinctively, pushing him on and hoping and praying to Sithis and the Night Mother that we would be on time.