A/N: This is it – the end of this story, the beginning of a new one;) I hope everyone enjoyed reading this:) I just want to say thank you to Everyone who has Read, Reviewed, Followed, Favorited and otherwise trolled For the Jester's Heart. It really means a lot to me that you guys were there, reading and enjoying it:D So Thank You again
This chapter's title is more of a reference to the song Eye of the Storm by Lovett. I think it sums up the last parts of their relationship really well:) Read, Review, and enjoy one last time, by beloved Dark Brothers and Sisters; and fare well;)

Epilogue: Eye of the Storm

Perhaps two months later, I stood outside next to Shadowmere early in the morning, waiting for Aventus to come outside. Babette stood next to me, already squinting in the pre-dawn light. A breeze tugged at a few loose strands of my hair, again neatly plaited by Babette. She moved suddenly, sniffing the air. "You're happy again; really happy," she accused, looking at me. I frowned at her. "You smell different when you're happy."

Aventus heaved the Black Door open, just as the sun rose in the east. Babette smiled at me for a second before dashing inside.

She was right – I was happy again. I closed my eyes, lifting my face to the sun. I breathed in deeply, a soft smile forming. A happy smile – happy for no reason but to be happy. I stood like this until the red of sunrise became the dark orange of dawn, and still a little longer until the light faded to a bright, sharp orange.

Aventus stood silently beside me, watching for the workers Delvin had collected. He left my side at some stage, and when I finally opened my eyes again, I saw the young Imperial leading a team of ten dim-witted workers paid by Delvin with my money to do the work we needed on our Sanctuary. There were brief introductions, the contact from the first time shaking my hand firmly. He ran over his plans again, and I nodded along to everything, their logic sound to me. I let them go with Aventus, and left him in charge of the group. They would do just fine, under our passively threatening presence and guidance.

I had filled several large books with Babette and Uvelaes' help, all detailing hierarchy, ranking, advancement and the likes, as used by the Dark Brotherhood before we had been taken down a few notches. There were other books that I had asked Babe to fill in her neat, sharp and clear handwriting that came to be the new Keeping Tomes, others were scripted by Uvelaes, in his most flowing and ornate calligraphy. I tended to scribble down what the Night Mother told me on cheap parchment before handing it to them to neaten and bind.

But the most important documents had been recorded, and while the Night Mother remained mostly still about contracts, she did give us enough to keep us busy. Repairing the Sanctuary comes first, though, I thought, looking out at the ocean before me, remembering what our Unholy Matron had said to me. I had become frustrated with the apparent lack of contracts and the endless stream of scribework and thrown a temper-tantrum.

To my siblings, it looked like a one-sided tantrum. I chuckled wryly to myself – I thought it was funny now, but then…. Oh, I had been furious, frustrated and exhausted. I had spent nights awake, trying to record everything I possibly could, as the Night Mother had dictated to me. It was tedious work in the beginning, and more often than not I had lost track of time – the reason for working through the night, missing sleep . Lack of sleep and nourishment had left me grumpy and frustrated, and between my siblings, I think they took it upon themselves to make me rest when Babette snuck up on me at some stage after my tantrum.

For that I will always be grateful, I nodded to myself, idly stroking Shadowmere's flank, his hips shifting as he rested a foot and lowered his head, dozing in the bright morning light, his tack spread on a table inside. It was soothing to be outside again, and to wear something other than the Brotherhood's leathers or robes. I had almost forgotten the feeling of sun on my skin these past few weeks….

Shadowmere heaved a sigh, and suddenly looked up, his ears pricking to the south, then the northeast. My Listener, I feel the need to run. These few weeks have me feeling like…. Well, like a fat pleasure horse, he snorted, his nose wrinkling as his ears pinned flat against his head. I smirked at him. "Go, then," I pushed his rump, and for a moment I thought he seemed surprised. But then he bolted, and as soon as I was out of reach, he bucked and kicked out, disappearing around the bend. He might be daedric, but he's still a horse, I shook my head, a sudden breeze blowing from the south. I turned my head towards it, letting the wind blow my hair away from my face.

I was about to turn around and go inside, when a shape coming this way caught my eye.

I frowned, squinting down the beach. It was human – probably Nord or Imperial, but the features were obscured at this distance. I stepped forwards a little, turning to face the figure trudging slowly along the gravel. I touched the daggers at my waist, watching what I now recognized as a man coming slowly, his head dipped as he stared at the ground. His clothes were torn, dirty from wear and long, hard days on the road. His head was covered by a cowl I had seen farmers wear on cold and windy days. He was still oblivious to my presence and my careful staring.

He stopped, turning to the ocean as he pulled out a waterskin, drinking briefly from it before holding away from him, and tipping it upside down. He had finished his water. The man sighed, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen onto them. He wasn't that far from Dawnstar, but I suspected he wouldn't return to the city unless he was forced to. He had that air about him, as if this was his final journey, his last grasp at something he needed to find. I found myself wondering what could possibly make one so world-weary. He didn't look that old – perhaps a few years older than me. But I wasn't so interested that I would go out to him and ask. I kept watching him, more out of curiosity than wariness about his proximity to the Sanctuary.

The man pushed his cowl back, a messy tangle of red hair coming loose. I felt myself gasp at the startling familiarity of the color. Sure, it was short – just hanging under the man's jaw, and roughly hacked at to achieve the length, but the color…. I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. The man sat down on the gravel, just staring at the waves lapping the smooth pebbles while I stared at him. Eventually he stood, dusting himself off and started walking towards me. A gust of wind from behind me pushed at my back, forcing me to take a step forwards.

The man looked up then, his face in a half-smile at the cool wind, his eyes closed.

It can't be…. My eyes widened.

He opened his mouth, and started singing. "Madness is merry…."

It's impossible…. I pray it's true…. My arms hung limp by my sides, and my feet moved forwards on their own.

"And merriment's might…" he continued, still unaware of me, unaware of the whirlwind of harsh and powerful emotions he was bringing out in me, with that voice.

A voice I knew well.

The man stopped singing and halted when he saw me standing there, gaping and staring and so close to tears.

His grey eyes stared into mine, searching, questioning, remembering. My mouth worked, unable to form a word or make a sound.

I stepped closer to him just as he treaded closer to me.

"C-Cicero…?" I breathed.

Cicero couldn't believe it – as far has he had come, after all I had been through, we still couldn't find the one we were looking for! How much further, how much longer…? Did these people, this person even exist?! He sat down on the gravel-beach, watching the waves. Oh, how Cicero despaired! This was to be his last journey, to find whoever he knew he had to find. That was why I hadn't planned to take much with me. Ah, sweet mother, where is it we belong? I pushed our cowl back, letting the salty, spritely sea-spray-breeze tangle the already-tangled, hacked mess of hair. Cicero closed his eyes. Oh, where to? What to do? We had always known…. Now I don't. What happens now? "We walk on, north. There has to be something here, I know it. Cicero knows there must be a home here, somewhere…." Cicero stood, brushing off the little pebbles and sand and started walking on – plodding, one foot, then the next, then the first, then the other.

The wind blew sharp and hard, and we smiled. It's cold, but lovely. Like she was, we smiled to ourselves. But who is she? Will this Fool of Hearts know when I meet her again?

"Madness is merry," I started singing slowly, eyes still closed, loudly to Cicero's own self, because why not? There was someone who loved that song, one he had sung once while walking into Falkreath…. But when, and why, and to whom… the Fool of Hearts couldn't remember. Maybe he didn't want to remember, somewhere deep inside? Well, he would find out, soon enough. "And merriment's might…." Cicero opened his eyes, to see a woman standing there.

A woman who looked heartbroken, hopeful, beautiful.

Must most of all, this Fool of Hearts realized she was beautifully dangerous. I knew her, know her…. I gasped – oh, Sweet Unholy Matron, beloved Night Mother, I know who this blonde woman with the cold blue eyes is!

Cicero beamed. Cicero stared – she stared back, hoping, praying, half-smiling in disbelief! Through her grief!

She ran. Ran to me, sobbing. Cicero ran to catch her, falling to the sand on his back when we collided. "Cicero!" she choked, sobbed into my chest.
"Shh, it's ok – I'm here, it's ok," Cicero soothed, stoking her plaited hair as she lay on his chest. "I'm here, Alysa Ice-Wrath, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Your Keeper is here. He has come home."