A/N: And so we find out Veezara's secret…. Night Mother and Sithis keep you, Dark Children. Read and Review!

Chapter 38: On Avenging the Fallen (II)

Aventus was sick so often on the way to Volunruud I almost wished I'd paid his travel fees to take a cart to Dawnstar. He struggled to keep up with Shadowmere's speed, holding me in an iron maiden of muscle. Even the daedric horse complained quietly in my head when we stopped just short of the ruin, Aventus falling off and tripping over his feet in his haste to get away from the horse and spill his guts. He grips too tightly with his knees, Shadowmere muttered, his red eyes glowing dimly as we stood there. "Volunruud isn't much further. Both of you stay here, I'll be back soon," I decided, running for the ruin. Shadowmere let out a long groan that tried to disguise as a sneeze.

I flew down the stairs on Volunruud, dodging the bodies on the stairs and flung myself into the room I had met Motierre in, my hand letting go of the doorframe as I jogged to the only urn in the room, breathing deeply as I lifted the lid, grabbing the large canvas bag and heaving it out. I huffed from the effort, already panting from the run. Shadowmere would have to come to me. Thankfully the bag had straps like a rucksack, and I hoisted it onto my back. "Unholy Matron, this is heavy!" I groaned, and trudged back up the way I had come. Babette always complained she wasn't made for manual labor… I now knew it was true for me. I had spent far too much time sneaking and stabbing to do this easily.

I finally made it outside the ruin, Aventus beside Shadowmere as they approached. "Feeling better?" I asked, sarcastic.
Aventus brushed it off, nodding and taking the sack from me. "Woah! That's really heavy…" he gasped, carrying it to my steed. We balanced the bag on the stallion's back, tying it onto the saddle and shifting some of the other things we had. Our extra set of clothes and bedrolls took up the most space, aside from my daedric bow and quiver, which hung from a hook on the pommel of the saddle, against Shadowmere's shoulder. Finally there were the saddlebags with our provisions – mostly breads, some cheese, rarely dried meats. All of this added up to the difficulties of traveling together on one horse, and Aventus' intolerance for the stallion's speed made for many stops. Now there was this heavy bag of gold on the stallion as well. I sighed.

At least we were currently at Volunruud. Dawnstar wasn't much further way.

I cut across the country at Shadowmere's suggestion, letting him take the lead across the snowy hills and through the mountain passes. We raced through Fort Dunstad, following the road for a while before Shadowmere veered off, his strides lengthening across the snow and up the plateau above the village of Dawnstar. Hold capital, I corrected myself, but it wasn't much bigger than Riverwood in actuality. We approached a foreboding, dilapidated fort-like temple – or temple-like fort – as the sun began to set, staining the white snow around us a dark orange. I heard Aventus mutter something to himself, and I hoped that he'd keep himself together for long enough to reach the Sanctuary. I didn't like the look of the crumbling building, and I really didn't want to stop here, at this hour. It gave off a sense of terror, a feeling I particularly hated.

"Shadowmere!" I hissed, throwing my weight back just in time as my stomach lurched; Aventus swore loudly – I could almost swear he screamed. The stallion had reached a steep slope down, and hadn't checked his speed before racing down, sliding through the thick snow all the way to the bottom. Apologies, Listener. I hadn't realized the edge was so near. He sounded amused, almost sarcastic, actually. I scowled at his mane as he pushed out of the snow, cantering easily along the coast to the west, slowing to a walk when we reached the Black Door. I didn't even bother to look when I felt my brother throw himself off the daedric horse again.

We were finally home. I dismounted, untying everything from the saddle and dumping it next to the Door, slinging my bow and quiver over my shoulders, and tucked the bedrolls under my arm. "Bring the gold in, won't you?" I patted the canvas still resting on the stallion's back. I grabbed the almost-empty saddlebags with my free hand, and passed it to the other when I reached the Door, Aventus just behind me. "Innocence, my brother," I said to the Door, and it hissed open, letting us in as the sun sank into the sea.

"Wow," Aventus breathed behind me as we walked down the stairs, coming to a small entrance room glowing orange in the firelight, with another suit of Cicero's motley still lying on the table to the left of the room, just as I had found it the first time I came in. I lifted my chin, my eyes flitting to cobwebbed wall sconce. We passed through the archway, and into what would become the main hall. The cavern was vast, and colored in cold, blue shades, with only a few scattered torches. The ice caverns were visible from here, too. The stairs leading to the ground were a little to the left, the spikes raised to prevent immediate access to the inner areas of the Sanctuary. I supposed the Night Mother's coffin was somewhere deep inside. Looking closer at the area below us, I could see most of my Family's possessions scattered around the cart-converted-table-and-benches.

I sighed, trudging to the stairs. Lucien appeared from a corridor. "My Listener, I thought I heard someone enter…" he glanced at Aventus with what looked like a disapproving glare from under his hood. He pulled the chain, lowering the pikes and allowed us through. "Follow me, there is something you must attend to immediately."
"Something to do with Veezara?" I dumped my luggage next to the rest of our things, and Aventus was only too happy to set the gold down.
"Yes, and no. Come."

I rolled my eyes. "Were you always this difficult, Lucien?"
"You ask vague questions, my Listener," he purred. I stalked after him into the corridor, all the way down the painfully familiar passage. Did they find Cicero here? I wondered, coming to a halt when I saw my Family crowded together on one side, staring incredulously at something or someone. "Listener," Uvelaes greeted, standing when he saw me.
"Evening," I nodded at everyone, then turned to look at what they were staring at.

Even I was left breathless and speechless for a while.

Standing up and turning to face me, pulling back her black and deep green hood and cowl was a dark purple and black Argonian. She shook out her head a little, the richly colored feathers on her head standing slightly before settling again. Her dark horns rose backwards, curving down and to the front. She wore amethyst- and ruby-studded ebony rings, from which hung a piece of – what I assumed was – black silk, on her horns, too, something I had heard was typical among Argonians. "So you are the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, the one I have heard so much of from Veezara? Listener Alysa Ice-Wrath?" her voice was strongly accented, her 'r's and 's's long and reptilian.

I gaped for a few seconds before I managed to nod. "Yes, you are the other Shadowscale he found?"
"I am indeed. My name is Shantanalz," she dipped her head in greeting, her vibrant green eyes closing for a second before they were on me again. "I came to Skyrim looking for a remaining chapter of the Dark Brotherhood several years ago. I did not find any. So I set up camp inside Arkngthamz, though at the time I did not know it was unstable and plagued with earth tremors. But that is beside the point. I followed a few leads around the cities to a few outstanding contracts, when I came across a fellow Shadowscale hunting the same prey. We spent some time together, completing the contract together, after which I left. I heard a short while later that Vittoria Vici had been assassinated at her own wedding, by what was presumed to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin.

"Some time later, my path crossed with Veezara's again. He mentioned an interest in Dwemer ruins, and I mentioned living in Arkngthamz. It would be several months before he sought me out within the ruin. That would be when you, Listener Alysa, found out about Arkngthamz."

I frowned slightly – Veezara wasn't here. I glanced at my Family members – they looked as surprised as I felt: she hadn't told them her story until now. "I see. Where is Veezara? Did he go looking for you recently?"
Shantanalz nodded. "He arrived in Arkngthamz just over two weeks ago. I was close to the entrance, so I saw him coming. He was not well enough to travel the distance at the speed he traveled. I did what I could, but it was not enough." She stopped, her expression going carefully blank. "I laid him to rest deep within the ruins. Perhaps, one day after you have settled into this Sanctuary a little more, I could take you to his tomb?"

It was as if the very stones lost their breath at that. Veezara… dead? Impossible…. I frowned, shaking my head. This place brings only death, the thought came, unbidden. "I would like to pay my last respects to him, Shantanalz. Thank you."

We were silent for a time, and eventually Aventus broke it when he suggested we prepare for the evening. We murmured our agreement, standing and making our way to the main room. It would be cold tonight, so close to the caverns. Quiet, without the noise of an inn, or Festus there to argue with Nazir over food.

We moved around the room, sorting and organizing everything. Tankards, cups and bowls would serve for drinks; plates and whatever else was flat would serve for the food. We laid out the bedrolls to one side, close together and away from the cold air sweeping in from the ice caverns. Everyone saw the rucksack full of the spoils for killing the Emperor – but no-one really had the heart to discuss any of that. Even Lucien seemed to agree that his usually morbid and ill-timed humor would earn him a return ticket to the Void, so he wandered throughout the halls and corridors, his ghostly shimmer oddly comforting to all of us.

Nazir had been the one to take up the cooking, and once we all sat down around our makeshift table, he spoke quietly. "I wish that old bastard Festus was here. His food was actually brilliant. I'll miss that."

Babette stood up, grabbing Aventus' tankard and raising it. "To Family. To the ones we've lost, who have died and found their ways to Sithis. To the ones we've gained along the way, and the ones that will surely come to our open arms. To the hardships and destruction of the past, and the things we've learnt from it. To the uncertainty of the future, now dark and bleak but surely so bright and alive once the eclipse has passed. To Family, to the Dark Brotherhood, to the Shadowscales, to our Dread Father and our Unholy Matron."

We stood, raising our tankards, bowls and cups high. "To Family," we chorused, and it was as if a weight had been lifted from all of us.

The grief was still there, we had lost too many over such a short time to not grieve, but it felt as if things would righten the world again, soon. Never again would it be the same as it once was, but maybe that was a good thing. We could grow from this, we could learn. Get better, stronger.

We are the Dark Brotherhood.

"Madness is merry, and merriment's might, when the Jester comes calling with his knife in the night…." The man stopped with a gasp, his cut-but-growing red hair flying into his face. There was nothing left of the door, and oil barrels stood littered outside, Penitus Oculatus agents strewn across the forest floor, all around the door. The tree right next to it…. Oh, now that was a bloody awful sight, crimson red where someone had been held up and bleeding, and the tree also bled – thick, blood-blood-red sap coagulating, calling insects closer. The man touched the dagger by his side, stepping closer to the entrance of that place. There was nothing left…. He turned away, back to the Great Cemetery of Falkreath, wandering through the graves until he found six fresh – well, relatively fresh – graves, each marked with a plain wooden cross, and their names carved into the wood with care.

Gabriella, Liz, Astrid, Seri, Arnbjorn, Festus Krex.

He felt… sad, especially when he saw the last name. Did he know these people, did they know him? "Of course they did, silly! They were family, remember?" he muttered to himself, suddenly remembering. How could he have forgotten that? "They would have moved house by now…."

"You there!" a deep voice snarled. The red-haired man turned around, and saw a Penitus Oculatus agent striding closer, looking furious. "You, do you know about the Black Door, the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary that was destroyed several weeks ago?"
"I know a great many black doors and sanctuaries. Or, I did, but I really can't remember, silly me. Are you Commander Maro of the Penitus Oculatus?"
"Yes, I am. Now answer me: what do you know about that Sanctuary?!"

The red-haired man looked up to his left, his index finger and thumb stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well… all I can really remember is this one, tiny little detail, but I'll have to tell you very quietly – can't have other people hear about it, you know."

Commander Maro sneered at the red-haired man, at his disheveled worker's clothes, his unevenly hacked, jaw-length hair. They were alone in the cemetery, so why the man worried about someone eavesdropping was beyond him. But Commander Maro stepped closer anyway, and so did the other man, until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Well, out with your secret, little man."
The red-haired man leaned closer, whispering in Commander Maro's ear, "They want you dead, and so do I. Hail Sithis and the Night Mother!"

Commander Maro sucked in a breath, confused by the sudden pain in his stomach. He glared at the man – the assassin – and down at himself. An ebony dagger was sheathed to the hilt inside him, warm blood leaking out between the blade and his flesh. His hands reached up to the wound on their own.

And the red-haired man did something strange: he giggled. And then he laughed. "Oh, ooh! Hehehehe, he's dead, he's dead! Hahahahahaha!"

Suddenly the blade rotated, ripped out, and slashed through his throat.

The red-haired man laughed, wiping down his dagger and returned it to his sheath, whistling a tune as he walked away.

Madness is merry, and merriment's might…

"When the jester came calling with his knife in the night!" the red-haired man sang, shrieking with laughter.