A/N: Sithis and the Night Mother guide you, Dark Sisters and Dark Brothers. Enjoy, and review.

Chapter 37: The Last Supper

There was a warm fire burning in the Emperor's chambers, and by the looks of it, was magically induced. As of yet, there was no-one inside, but talk between two agents I passed suggested my prey was dining with his ship's captain on the deck. He'd be back soon. I took the opportunity to dry myself completely, and explore what I supposed was an office, then an adjoining bedroom and washroom. Lavish, I commented dryly, peering in the cupboards and perusing the shelves and display cases.

A particular katana caught my eye – simply, because it seemed to be made of pure gold. I leaned closer to the case, examining it closely. I could swear on the Night Mother's body that this was Goldbrand, a daedric artifact given to a worshipper and Champion of Boethiah. "Well, bless my black little soul…. A daedra-worshipping Emperor. That's a first, I think." I straightened, and settled for perching on a dresser hidden from sight by a dividing wall in the office. I pulled up my now-dry hood and cowl, and settled for waiting. I only hoped I wasn't about to be the one who was ambushed. While it certainly would be interesting, it didn't suit my plans tonight.

I had just taken out one of my daggers to examine and play with when the door opened and closed, and the room was filled with a distinctly different sound as I held my breath. The soft rustle of expensive fabrics, the soft 'clack' of wood-on-wood heeled shoes quickly dampened to soft, almost inaudible sounds on a plush, thick carpet. Then the emperor stopped at his desk, his back to me and his door, and put his hands on the desk.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And, once again, I have proved that Commander Maro is a fool. I told him, no-one can stop the Dark Brotherhood. No-one ever could, nor will they ever." He chuckled again, and moved to sit at his desk. "Come now, don't be shy, Assassin. Come out from wherever you are – you did not come all this way to gawk at me, and I can assure you we are very much alone," he sunk into his chair slowly, his sharp gaze finding me on the dresser, a daedric dagger in my right hand, my index finger resting on the very tip of the blade.

I sheathed the dagger, and scooted closer to the edge of the dresser, surprised he wasn't calling out to his guards. I raised a brow, my lips twitching into an incredulous smile before I fully met his brown-green eyes. "You were expecting me?"
Titus made a disapproving sound in his throat. "But of course! You, and I, have a date with destiny. But so it always is, with emperors and assassins, wouldn't you agree?"
I nodded. "I suppose that is true."
"You know it is, Assassin," he leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and weaving his fingers together. "Yes, I must die. And you must deliver the final blow. That is how it simply is. I see you look confused."

I smoothed my brow as I stood up. "Yes, I am confused. Of all the emotions I had expected, of all the scenarios I considered, not one included you being so calm, so…" I struggled to find the right word.
"Resigned to my fate?"
I nodded. "Yes. I didn't expect you would be alone, either. At least, not for very long." This felt strange – I was having a conversation with my target, my prey. But this one, I will confess, fascinated me.
"Yes, I thought similarly to you about my impending death – perhaps there could have been a way to cheat it. But now that the moment is here, I do not see why I should not face it, instead of putting off the inevitable over and over again. I will not go to my grave whimpering like an infant." Titus was self-assured, and within these few seconds a man whose name I had never really cared to learn had my respect. He reminded me a little of the Dragonborn.

I smiled under my cowl at the thought, my gaze flitting over the objects in the room. When I looked back at Titus, his sharp eyes immediately caught mine. "I was wondering, Assassin, if you would suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?"
I was curious – what more could he ask, or say? "Very well. I'm listening," I replied evenly, walking closer to the desk.

Titus dipped his head. "I thank you for your courtesy. You will kill me, and I have accepted that fate, and will not try to change your mind on the matter. But, regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain ambition. So I ask of you a favor; just an old man's dying wish," he paused, gauging my reaction. I nodded – would he ask me to tell him who had asked the Night Mother for his death, or would he ask me to kill Amaund? "While there are many who would see me dead, Assassin, there is one who set the machine in motion, who threw caution to the wind and risked their life for this task, had they failed and been discovered before now. This person, whomever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness, Assassin?"

Ah, kill Amaund. Interesting. "If I killed every client at the request of a target, I would soon be out of business."
He laughed wryly. "Ah, yes of course. There is that as well. I thank you for your courtesy of hearing me out, regardless of what you decide to do in the end."
"I'll think your request over."

As I stood there, across from my target, I was struck with a sudden whim.

I pulled off my hood and cowl. "I am Alysa Ice-Wrath, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood."
"Alysa…. Well, I certainly didn't expect an assassin to introduce herself," he laughed.
I rolled my eyes, half smiled. "You've gained my respect in this short time. I will not forget you, Titus Mede the Second." I felt strangely detached and yet involved with my target. I really would remember him for the rest of my life, and not just because of what his assassination meant to my Family. He seemed content to watch me as I gathered what I needed – namely, two large bowls to collect his blood.

While my initial plans had included speedy slashes with hopes of catching a handful of bloody material to leave my mark specifically in his blood, I now had the chance to do what I wanted in relative peace. He didn't object once, or comment on what I was doing, and only drew in a sharp, surprised breath when I sliced through the veins and arteries in his wrists, letting them hang over the dishes.
"This is comparatively 'clean', when the other assassinations by your order are taken into account," the emperor finally commented, looking at the deep crimson liquid flowing out of him with detached interest.
I frowned. All of my kills were typically bloody – he just wouldn't see the results of this one. "At Vici's wedding I left a waterskin of pig's blood and my handprint in blood behind. Gaius Maro…" I couldn't help the grin that escaped. "Well, that was –"
"That letter found in his possessions, it was forged, correct?"
"Yes. He was Imperial through-and-through."

Titus chuckled. Apparently he found the situation far more amusing than I had expected myself to find it. "And, did you find out who the Gourmet really was? I never did manage to meet the man – or woman – behind the fame."
"I did. His name was Balagog gro-Nolob. He was an Orc," I replied, wondering if someone had found his corpse yet. I'll have to go find out some time.
"An Orc, you say? Well, I would never have guessed that, either."

We lapsed into silence for a while, and I was beginning to see the effect of the blood loss on him – Titus was pale, his eyes were unfocused when they were open, his breathing sometimes even, sometimes ragged, but always shallow. "Would you bring me the golden katana, in the display case there? I'd like to see it once more. Oh, and it's locke– Well, never mind then," he finished. I was already tucking my lockpicks away, and lifting the glass.
"Is this Goldbrand?" I asked, laying the blade down in his open palms and leaned against the desk. My eyes flitted down to his blood on the floor – he wouldn't be awake for much longer.
"Yes, indeed it is," he managed a weary smile, his eyes running over the length of the sword.
"So you are a follower of Boethiah, like the rumors suggest. Why keep quiet about it? You're the 'Emperor of Tamriel'."

Titus barked out, laughing. "I'd have a rebellion on my hands."
"I can see it turning a few heads, but not a whole rebellion," I argued. What difference did aedra or daedra really make?
"The entire Septim bloodline was associated with not only the Aedra, but with a specific Divine – Akatosh. Centuries of emperors associated with 'good', and suddenly a daedra-worshipping warlord's son is emperor? Ha!" he laughed, his face suddenly contorting as blood spurted weakly from his wrists, and then his features smoothed out, his eyes closing as if he was sleeping. Oh, that sort of makes sense. Like befriending someone, then telling them you're an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood. I think.

"Sithis take you to the Void," I murmured, replacing one of the dishes with a random chalice. I held up the red-black blood, so close to coagulating…. With my gloves on, I stirred the crimson liquid a little, then climbed onto the shelves behind the dead emperor, the bowl beside me. I placed my palm flat on the surface of the precious liquid, and pressed it against the glass, watching in satisfaction as the blood trickled down the window from under my hand. Then I used the blood as ink, carefully writing out my messages on the glass, grinning all the while. There was a door to the right of the window, which opened easily with a key I found in the desk drawer. It led to a narrow balcony, with the Solitude Inlet below it.

I glanced back at my kill, his hands gently wrapped around Boethiah's artifact, his chin against his chest as if sleeping.

Were it not for the bowl of blood next to him on the desk and on the floor, and the bloody hand print above and behind him. And my text. And the fact that he wasn't breathing – especially that. Ah, the Black Horse Courier will have a field day with this, assuming it manages to leak, I thought smugly.

Then I walked onto the private little balcony, mourning for the resist cold potion I should have had with me, climbed onto the railing, and jumped off into the freezing cold oceans. I crossed my arms and forced my legs together just in time, and the water pulled me in deep with the height of my fall. I swam up, desperate to be out of the cold and wet. I gasped in the frigid air of Skyrim, my lungs burning against the frigid air, and powered my way back to the eastern shore where Shadowmere was waiting.

Sweet Sithis, it's freezing!

My teeth were chattering when I finally reached the shore, shivering and shuddering from the icy waters. I needed to change out of my soaked armor into something dry – but my fingers wouldn't work so well. I swore, finally managing to extract my robes and warm furs from my pack. Shadowmere stood close by, offering me what warmth he could.

I folded my armor haphazardly once I was dressed in the wools and furs of my Dark Robes, and stuffed the armor into a bag of its own, pulling a cape tightly around me as I jumped up and down. Commander Maro just left the docks, my Listener. He will soon come across the Emperor's body. You cannot exact your revenge at the moment. Besides, we must leave this place for shelter, or you will surely die, Listener. I cannot allow that. I nodded, and eventually made it onto Shadowmere, and as soon as I was settled into his saddle, he bolted. I burrowed my fingers into his thick, black mane, and wishing there was a way to stop the wind from being so cold.

He took me to a little shack, where a large, disheveled dog stood guard at the door. He barked excitedly, wagging his tail and leading the way in when I dismounted, still shivering from the cold. I immediately headed for the fireplace, and coaxed the blaze to life with difficulty. It was only then that I saw the dog's master lying dead on the bed, and judging by the awkward way in which he lay, it was probably Rockjoint. Shadowmere managed to squeeze into the little shack with me, and I fumbled over the buckles on the back of his saddle, trying to get my bedroll so I could lay it down on the furs in front of the fire.

I was beginning to feel a little warmer, and as soon as I burrowed into my bedroll, sleep took me.

I sneezed violently as soon as I was inside Whiterun city. I think I am sick, I thought dejectedly, wiping my nose on a piece of cloth I had torn that was serving as a handkerchief. Of all the things that could happen to me, why this, and why now? I complained. The weather had been awful on the ride here: windy, overcast, threatening to rain…. Cold and miserable. Just how I felt. I stopped by the alchemist for a cure illness potion, and was barely out the door before I started drinking it. There was a large box with a sign 'Deposit Empty Potions and Poisons Bottles Here!' just outside the shop, and I tossed the bottle inside. I was already feeling better, but I wasn't quite over it yet. I sighed, walking up to the Temple of Kynareth to check on Veezara and Aventus. Amaund could wait for a bit longer. I needed to know how my Shadowscale and little brother were doing.

I looked up at the branches of the Gildergreen when I heard Aventus arguing with a priestess. I stopped walking, frowning in their direction just in time to see her throw her hands in the air, furious and walking away while Aventus…. Well, he looked panicked, running his hands through his hair, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. I strode over. "What happened?" I demanded, staring at my sibling as he paled slightly.
"They lost Veezara. I mean," he corrected quickly, his cheeks coloring. "He was getting better, he was even awake about a day after everyone left, and just about four days ago he was up and walking and doing quite well…" he trailed, looking sheepish and worried. "He must have sneaked out of the temple and the city somehow, because the other horse – our palomino – is, was –"
"Stolen," I finished in unison with Aventus. "Yes, I saw, and questioned everyone at the yard. They say it looked like a mirage got on the horse and rode it out along the road. Which one, differs by too many accounts."
"Where could he have gone? He's not well enough to travel alone. And he remembers everything that happened, right up to where –" Aventus dropped his voice, leaning closer to me, "– the Dragonborn was healing him."

I clenched my jaw – there was only one place he would go. "I have other business to deal with right now. But he will probably be at Ark-ang-tham-az…." I struggled with the Dwemer word.
"Arkngthamz?" Aventus questioned, looking confused. "The Dwemer ruin? Why would he be there?"
I wanted to skin him for being able to say that. "Yes. The Dwemer ruin; the one he's been visiting so often. Ask around about it – all I know is, it's close to Markarth and somewhere in the mountains."

I turned away from him as he nodded, murmuring something about asking the Companions. They would be the best bet, I admitted, stalking into the Bannered Mare and spotting my client in the busy common room at a secluded table with his bodyguard, having lunch. And I slipped onto a stool at the counter, pretending to scan through a hastily scribbled menu as I watched an Oculatus agent gave him a letter, looking solemn. Motierre tore open the seal, his eyes scanning over the words quickly. I could swear his eyes gleamed with delight for a few seconds, then he folded the letter, looking concerned and grieved as he thanked the agent for his trouble.

I waited until the agent left, then abandoned the menu, pushing my way through the people and sat down at the empty chair at my client's table. "The deed is done," I said, smirking darkly at the Breton.
His eyes shone. "I know, I know! I just received the news!" he exclaimed quietly, barely able to contain himself. He tapped the letter with his fingers. "This, this is truly glorious, my friend! You may not realize this for a while to come, but you have served the Empire – nay, all of Tamriel! – in ways you cannot possibly begin to imagine!" he laughed, initially undeterred by my relatively blank expressions. I wasn't his friend, nor did I care for politics too much. Unless it involved my Family.

But he quickly misinterpreted my gaze, and became slightly nervous again. "Ah, but you probably don't care about politics, yes? You want what is due – money. It's at a dead drop, as I mentioned before, in an urn in the very chamber of Volunruud where we met. Now, please go, and collect your payment. Let us never look upon one another again," he drew back, looking at me warily despite the excitement that his plan had succeeded was shining in his eyes.
I nodded. "Of course. It truly was a pleasure doing business with you."

I barely managed to smirk at him when the inn door was thrown open, slamming against the wall, silencing the inn. I half-rose from the chair, my daggers halfway out of their sheathes. It was a breathless, excited courier. "Breaking news! The Emperor of Tamriel, Emperor Titus Mede the Second, has been assassinated by what is believed to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin, aboard his own ship! Read all about it in this copy of the Black Horse Courier! A bloody handprint, a macabre message in blood – the Emperor's own blood – saying 'We reign eternal. Hail Sithis and the Night Mother', and another, more cryptic one, 'He asked a favor of me'!" he called, gasping for breath. I sheathed my blades, turning to Amaund with a dark, sly smirk. "And!" the courier continued, "has it been confirmed once and for all that the late emperor truly was a daedra worshipper? Read all about it in this copy of the Black Horse Courier!" he held a copy high.

No-one breathed for a few seconds.

Then the inn exploded into action, everyone needing a copy of the Courier to find out what happened first. I giggled darkly, drawing my finger over my neck as I whispered to him, "Not today, Amaund Motierre, but maybe one day," wiggling my fingers in a goodbye to a wide-eyed Amaund – the last message certainly wasn't lost on him. Apparently the letter he had received didn't include this information. How it managed to get to the Courier, I didn't know. Didn't really care – but we were back in business, and business would probably be booming soon. And a few hopefuls looking for their piece of fame.

I stood, weaving through the mass of bodies pressing against one another for a copy of the article, finally managing to secure a copy from another courier outside for a hefty twenty septims - they were usually only about ten. On the very top, just under the main heading of 'Emperor Assassinated by Dark Brotherhood', was a quick sketch of the emperor just as I had left him – handprint, messages, and Goldbrand in his hands at his desk.

I felt proud to have accomplished this, claiming an entire edition of the Courier for my Family. I scanned the article quickly, highly sensationalized and emotive, walking out to the stables when a guard stopped me. "I know who you are. Hail Sithis," he spoke quietly, staring at me from behind the full-face helmet. I narrowed my eyes at him, carefully folding the Courier. "I was told to tell you that it is important for you to return home immediately, concerning a scaly deal in the extended family."

And just like that he left. Aventus found me not long after, as breathless and excited as the courier in the inn had been when he waved the page at me, babbling about the kill. "Do you have anything you need to pack to take with you?" I interrupted.
He frowned, put out. "Well, I just need to fetch my pack from the inn, and the last of Veezara's things from the temple, why –"
"Then do it, now. We need to get to Dawnstar as quickly as possible."

My brother still wanted to argue about leaving for the Dwemer ruin after Veezara, but I cut across him, simply saying Dawnstar would be our best bet.

The message the guard had given me had something to do with Veezara…. It was important.