Notice: There's an author's note at the end of this chapter which should be read by all. If you're a returning reader and wondering why I'm posting an old chapter, please take a look at the A.N. at the bottom of this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls series, and I am making no profit from this work. All of the characters, plot details, locations, and canon dialogue belong to Bethesda, not me. The Dragonborn belongs to Bethesda as well, but the characters of Camille Rayne and Sidri Nighthollow (brief mentions only) are mine.

"Those Imperials just keep throwing themselves at Stormcloak blades." Gripes a young woman in the tavern in which I currently sit. "They would be better off just surrendering."

"Mm." I reply, wishing she would go away.

"What do you think about it?" The woman persists.

Of course, she had to ask my opinion. "I've heard of a similar situation in Hammerfell." I respond quickly. "The Aldmeri Dominion seems to be losing friends rather quickly."

"Well, I know I'm no friend of theirs." The barmaid says. "I should get back to work. I'll be back with your drink soon."

I give her a polite smile, but subtly roll my eyes when she leaves. "The same drink she said she'd get me an hour ago." I mutter down at the table. A few moments later, she does actually return, and she brings with her a glass of sweet red wine. I thank her and finally sink into a happy realm of relaxation. That is, until someone else speaks to me.

I swear, if one more racist Nord says something about my height…

"Hey dere." Says a large man as he hovers over my table. He mispronounces every th.

I forge an affable smile, masking my urge to impale him with my dinner fork. "Evening."

"What's someone like you doing in a place like dis?" The man asks, his meager attempts at flirtation failing miserably.

"I believe this is a public tavern." I snip.

He sits down without asking me for an invitation. "Sure it is. But you're too pretty for here."

How charmingly eloquent. "Well, I've heard the only other place to get a decent meal in town is in the Gray Quarter." I remark. I almost add, "Where would you have me go?" but I stop myself quickly due to the probability of his answer being crude.

"You could come back to my place." He suggests eagerly. "It's just a little hole in the wall, but I could make you some dinner. And I have plenty of mead."

"I can tell that you are a very nice person," I state, layering my words with sweetness and smiles, "but I've already had my supper, and I have an unfortunate dislike for Nordic mead."

The man seems very taken aback. "Well, den fine!" He shouts, standing up angrily. "Dere are plenty of odder women who'll appreciate me!"

"I'm sure." I smirk as he storms away. I sigh lightly, hoping nobody else bothers me as I finish my wine and exit the inn.

I pull my velvet traveling cloak around me tightly as the bitter wind pulls at my hair. I've been in Skyrim for a while now, after leaving High Rock due to a misunderstanding with a few politicians. I don't think I'll be staying in Windhelm for any length of time, though. When I came here, I wanted an easier life, one spent roaming the gorgeous landscapes and climbing the mountains. I'm not going back to Cyrodiil. I didn't want to go there in the first place, and I ran the first chance I got, never looking back.

Unfortunately for me, life in Skyrim has been anything but a vacation. I was wrongfully arrested and forced into all this business with dragons. Apparently, I'm not only the Dragonborn of Nordic legend; I'm one of two Dragonborn of Nordic legend. The other is a Bosmer called Sidri - an odd woman who doesn't seem to like me very much. She and I are to meet in some old ruin to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller in about a week. I've been trying to relax until then. I came here to Windhelm and she went to Riften, I believe.

As I walk about the streets, I overhear a little boy speaking to a woman. I catch the words "Black Sacrament" and immediately drop into a crouch. Hurrying behind a low wall, I listen to the rest of the conversation.

"…trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?" Asks the little boy eagerly.

"Oh, Grimvar…" The woman sighs. I can almost hear her shaking her head. "Always with the nonsense. No, no. Of course not. Those are just tales…"

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play." The little boy retorts. I peek around the corner just in time to see him point at a nearby house. "He lives right there. I'm going to knock on his door."

The woman hurriedly places her hands in front of the boy. "No, child! Wait! That boy, that house… they're cursed!"

"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it! He's trying to have somebody killed." The child says triumphantly.

"Alright. I won't deny it, child." The woman admits. "What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin. Now enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need." The little boy hangs his head and walks away with the woman. I look around, then back at the house. It's a sizable place. This Aventus Aretino is, I assume, another child. I wonder what he could want the Dark Brotherhood for… and why no one else is in the house with him.

My curiosity overpowers me. I creep over to the house and deftly pick the lock on the door. It creaks open, completely spoiling the advantage of surprise. Sighing in annoyance, I stand up from my crouch and walk tentatively up the stairs. I can make out faint chanting, words I am all too familiar with.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

I whisper the words in my head. I've said them so many times that I have them memorized. No doubt the child has his effigy of bones and flesh laid out before him, a dagger coated with nightshade in his hands. The assassins have probably already heard his plea; they must be coming. And what will they find in the house? A young child, misguided and foolish? A mysterious Breton, stealing their contract?

The chanting stops. The boy must have heard me. Footsteps patter out into the room and a child, not yet into his teenage years, greets me. "Finally!" He cries excitedly. "My prayers have been answered!"

"Are you… all right?" I inquire hesitantly, taking in the sight of the candlelit bones and blood in the room behind him.

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it!" Aventus cheers, ignoring my question. "I did the Black Sacrament, over and over, with the body and the… the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

I close my eyes, recalling a bitter memory I haven't thought about in a very long time.

"You don't have to say anything." Aventus assures me. "There's no need. I know who you are. And now that you're here, you can accept my contract!"

"Contract?" I repeat. The boy actually thinks I'm going to kill someone for him, I think to myself in amazement. Not like I won't…

"My mother… sh-she died." Aventus says sorrowfully. "I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall." His sad frown morphs into a sneer. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind! She's terrible. To all of us!" He pauses, letting his anger cool a bit. "So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. And now you're here, and you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

"You are certain this is what you want, child?" I ask quietly.

"Yes!" He nods vigorously. "But please hurry. As much as I hated it in Honorhall, I really miss my friends there."

I look away from his eager eyes and around the house. The candles encircling the effigy of Grelod the Kind are burning out, one by one, drips of wax pooling around them. They will be difficult to pry off of the floor, I think. The main room is a mess, with miscellaneous items strewn about the floor and old foodstuffs rotting away. It already has begun to smell.

I take my leave of the house and decide to take a carriage to Riften. The boy shouldn't be living in that empty house, but neither should he be returned to a woman who will abuse him so terribly. I will be glad to get out of this chilly weather, certainly.

I hire the cart to take me to Riften and sit back into the bench. It will be a long ride, but better than walking in a snowstorm like this. The cabman doesn't talk much, leaving me alone to remember the last time I dealt with the Dark Brotherhood. It was the 28th of Rain's Hand, Fourth Era 187. I still remember that day, the day the assassin came to me.

I look down at the bruises on my skin. They are fading now. It's been over a week since the Speaker came to me. He told me Atticus would soon be dead, but he is the Arena Grand Champion. I fear he has killed the assassin, and is coming for me. It has been far too long.

I light the candles in the circle, and pray to the Night Mother that my husband is dead. It wasn't in the book, to pray after one has been contacted. But I do it anyway. All I want is for him to die. Then I can be free.

I hear footsteps outside. "Atticus?" I breathe as the lock on the door clicks open.

A figure steps through, clad all in black. "Lady Reverentus." A male voice says, his words pinpricks of sound in the room.

I gasp, unknowing what to say. "Come now." The figure steps into the candlelight. "I am in the right house, aren't I?" He fits his role perfectly. He is young, with eyes the color of warm gold, hair of soft auburn, and an amused smirk on his face. Handsome, in a dark, unsettling, yet strangely exciting kind of way.

"I-I think so." I stammer. "Y-you're from the… the Dark Brotherhood?"

"You were expecting the Thieves Guild?" He quips with a breathless chuckle, coming ever closer to me. He's much taller than I am. An Imperial, no doubt. "You are the one I was sent to find. I was expecting…" He trails off.

"S-someone taller?" I ask hesitantly. I am unsure if I should play along with him. He laughs, a chilling sound in the darkness as my candles slowly begin to flicker out. "Hardly. I thought you'd be older. Weaker. The typical battered housewife."

I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat.

"But you're not." The assassin continues. "You're still young and beautiful." He gives me a sickly sweet smile. It makes me shiver, but I think I like it. Why does this darkness excite me?

"Atticus is dead." I whisper, more for my own understanding.

"He's fought his last match." The assassin replies.

My breath becomes unsteady. I look away from him and down at my melting candles.

"The Speaker told me I should give you the news myself." The assassin continues, stepping closer to me. "He sent me to take care of you."

"Wh-what?" My eyes dart back up to the man. In the Dark Brotherhood, "taking care of" usually means "silencing permanently".

"I'm to help you escape from the city." The assassin responds casually. "It will cost you more, however."

"I didn't ask for—" I begin to protest.

"Shh." He presses two fingers to my lips. His gloves smell of blood and steel. It is a… curiously enticing thing. "You shouldn't argue with the man who just killed your husband." He smirks.

"I can pay." I announce, my voice not rising above a whisper.

"Of course you can." He says, laughing again. "You have an Arena Champion's fortune to do with as you please."

The few lit candles are snuffed out and the assassin leads me out. I gather a few things and give the assassin the stash of gold that I've squirreled away. The last thing I grab is the book. A Kiss, Sweet Mother. I want to keep it in case I need it again… and as a reminder.

Once we're outside, I shiver. The night seems even colder than usual. The assassin looks at me for a moment before wrapping his cloak around my shoulders. "Consider it a gift." He remarks.

He leads me out to the stables where a horse is waiting, and instructs me to stay away from the city for a while. "Go somewhere nice," he says, "go back to High Rock." He smirks and pulls his mask up over his face before disappearing into the night. I follow his silhouette as long as I can, but when I blink, he is lost.

But now Atticus is dead, and I am free. Maybe I will go to High Rock…

A light breeze sweeps my face and I open my eyes. I swear I can hear a voice on the wind, but I can't quite make out the words…

"All right, here we are. Riften." The coachman informs me.

I hop down from the carriage and pay the man a few Septims. "Be careful." He wishes me.

I nod and walk over to the city gate.

"Hold there!" The guard holds up his hand. "Before I let you into Riften, you'll have to pay the visitor's tax."

"What is it for?" I inquire skeptically.

"For… the privilege of entering the city. What does it matter?" The guard barks.

"This is obviously a shakedown." I state.

The guard sighs and looks around. "Damn it." He grumbles. "They need to post someone else out here next time…" He walks over to the gate and pushes it open, glaring at me as I walk through.

Then I finally get a glimpse of Riften. It's similar to Whiterun, but I see more market stands and plenty of people bustling about. I can hear two people arguing about the Thieves' Guild, but I pay no attention.

Someone stops me before I get very far. "I don't know you." Says a man with a deep, throaty voice.

"I don't recall addressing you." I retort before I can catch my own tongue.

"You in Riften lookin' for trouble?" The man demands.

"I just thought I would take a look at the scenery." I quip sarcastically.

"Oh yeah?" The man raises his head. He seems to have no sense of humor at all. "Well I've got news for ya: ain't nothin' to see. Last thing the Black-Briars' need is some stranger stickin' their nose where it don't belong."

I turn away from the man and start off toward the market square. I'm only here to kill some old shrew, not involve myself in more politics.

"You can pretend not to hear me all you want," the man calls after me, "but you'd better stay out of the Black-Briars' business."

I ignore him, instead walking into the market square. Lots of people are there, selling their wares. Armorers, jewelers, and a man claiming to sell miracle cures. He keeps looking at me, and he has an arrogant air about him. He's obviously lying about his "Falmer Blood Elixir", but some still pay attention to it. I avert my gaze and walk through town until I see a building with lettering above the door that reads "Honorhall Orphanage".

This is the place. I step inside and look around. There are a few children standing in a line with their heads bowed. An old woman is yelling at them ruthlessly, and I know immediately why Aventus wants her dead.

"Anyone who shirks their duties will get an extra beating! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Grelod." The children murmur in a depressed chorus.

"And I will hear no more talk of adoptions!" The old woman shrieked. "No one wants you! Nobody needs you! That is why you are here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown out into that wide, miserable world. Now what do you say?"

"We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness." The children drone.

My veins pulse under my skin. I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my dagger and walk toward her. I think this is one murder I can commit with witnesses present. "Hello, Grelod." I say icily. "You know, I don't like people who make victims of the helpless." She opens her mouth to protest, but as I sink my blade into her stomach and twist it, all that emerges is blood. It spills down her dress, and I can feel a sick warmth in the pit of my stomach.

So fulfilling… I remember why I like this.

To my amazement, the children cheer. One of them runs to me and wraps his arms around my legs. "Aventus did it!" They all cry happily. The one hugging me says, "We love you, Dark Brotherhood!" and lets go, jumping for joy with the rest of his friends.

"Kill one person, and you can solve so many problems." One girl muses lowly after glancing at me.

I smile to myself and quietly leave the orphanage. I draw my hood up over my face and quickly exit the town.

After deciding to walk instead of taking another carriage, I am on my way back to Windhelm, albeit with a surprisingly uneasy feeling in my stomach. I've never killed someone with witnesses like that. It's always been in the dark, away from prying eyes. But those children… somebody needed to do something. That murder was almost justified.

I'm no vigilante. I kill people because I want to, because they hurt me. Because I have that kind of darkness inside of me. But I don't save people. At least, not on purpose.

Author's Note: I'm making this chapter my first official chapter of the new "Little Mad." I'm rewriting the story and removing Cicero's perspective, which played a role in later chapters. If you're new to this, don't worry. If you've been following it, make sure to skim over my next few chapters, even though they'll be mostly the same.

For reviewing the old version, I'd like to thank K0H and a Guest. I used the idea of thanking latest reviewers from J. APPLEGATE, who also wrote an Elder Scrolls story called The Nerevarine's Return. I highly recommend that fic. It's well-written, dramatic, and has a huge cast of interesting and compelling characters who travel through Skyrim. Go read that, seriously.