Loredas 8 Last Seed 237 4E 6:00 PM

In the last twenty-five years, the Dark Brotherhood had done very well. Nazir became the head of the Wayrest Sanctuary in High Rock after Garnag passed away, Meena led the Corinthe Sanctuary in Elswyr, and Aventus Aretino controlled the reinstated Falkreath Sanctuary in Pine Forest here in Skyrim. All of them have been named Speaker.

We had managed to grow from four ragtag misfits to four fully functioning Sanctuaries. The Black Hand once again commanded the Brotherhood. Mother must be proud.

Babette and Cicero were still with me in Dawnstar Sanctuary. Babette and I were frozen in time; she was still a sweet, innocent looking ten-year-old girl and I had aged physically maybe two or three years, so I looked about twenty-five years old instead of my actual fifty-seven.

My poor Fool of Hearts had not been as fortunate. His hair was more silver than red now, but he still laughed, sang, and danced. And Kept. Cicero's dedication to the Night Mother was as strong as it was the day he was given the honor of being made Keeper.

With all of us scattered throughout Tamriel, we were much better equipped to answer the prayers of the Black Sacrament to give vengeance and closure to the wronged. We rarely got to see each other, so every five years or so the family had a reunion to celebrate our success in assassinating the emperor, Titus Mede II, back during the year of the Stormcloak Rebellion. It was the contract that put the name of the Dark Brotherhood back into the mouths of the people and that lead to me becoming the leader of the Black Hand.

"Home, home, the children have come home!" Cicero sang as Aventus entered Sanctuary with his entourage. His jester's outfit was little more than patches any more. I didn't know how it survived so long with as often as he wore it. I liked to think Sheogorath enchanted the motley to last forever.

Aventus had grown into a handsome man. He's tall, broad shouldered, and has brown hair that absolutely will not stop falling across his eyes, giving him a mischievous look. Babette looked at him with hungry eyes, full of regret for the choice the boy made twenty years ago to grow up instead of being a child forever.

"Big sister!" Aretino laughed as he ran to me. The boy picked me up and spun me around hugging me with enough strength to make me lose my breath. In the years, Aventus switched from a one-handed mace to the huge two-handed hammers the Nords favor. The heavier weapons must be why our boy was so muscular.

"Stop, can't breathe," I gasped. Aventus put me down and patted my head affectionately. He towered a good hand's breadth above me. I thought of the small, dirty, hungry boy I found alone in his family's home a lifetime ago and could not believe they are the same person.

Nazir and Meena were already here and they came running out to greet their little brother. I smiled like an idiot as I looked at our group. The Redguard, the cat, the boy, the vampire, the Fool and the Dragonborn; for me, this was the core of the family. There were many more brothers and sisters now, but they weren't there with us during those first hard days. Everyone we accepted into the Brotherhood was family, but there's the family you claim and those you know. That nuclear circle who knew all the inside jokes and secret mannerisms the rest of the world didn't understand was the one close to my heart.

The actual anniversary wasn't until Morndas, but we were all here early. There would be drinking, gossiping, and remembering old contracts as well as planning for the upcoming year. There were enough of us now that some would make an impromptu band and there would be music for Cicero and me to dance to instead of just the music in the jester's head. Aventus had a lovely singing voice cultivated from his education in the Bard's college; I was sure he would grace us with a song or two.

Astrid had been very paranoid towards the end, but her advice, "We aren't just assassins," was some of the best I had ever been told. I had missed the boy when we sent him away to train with the bards, but he had learned how to talk to people and make them like him and been around normal people so he could move more easily among them. Aretino was a natural assassin and adapted quickly.

"Are we playing Mage Poker?" Nazir asked. His beard was salt and peppered. I suspected that he'd lost most of his hair over the years, but it was hard to tell since he always wore his ali'kir turban. Something about the way he enviously looked at Cicero and Aventus, who both still had full heads of hair, was my only clue.

"Meena likes the poker," the Khajiit purred. Her muzzle was grayed and her movements were slower, but the catkin's eyes were still full of mischief. Of all my family, she was the one I got along the least with. Both of us being hot-headed and stubborn made for an explosive match up at times.

"You always get bored and quit early," Aventus complained playfully. "What you do think, big little sister?" He put a brotherly arm around Babette. The Breton smiled and wrapped her arms around Aventus' waist for a big hug.

"I am fine with anything," Babette said. I had offered to let her go with Aventus when he relocated to Falkreath, but she had refused. She stated that she had no interest in watching Aretino grow old and die, but I often wondered if it was because she still remembered Astrid and the others too much.

"Cicero always wins," I reminded them. The jester shrugged helplessly as the others playfully booed him.

"I remember the first time I played," Aventus laughed, "and Cicero got you to agree to a favor as a side bet. How did that turn out?"

"He never cashed it in," I growled. For years I had waited, growing more and more paranoid about when the jester was going to drop the hammer on me for the favor. But it never came and I eventually forgot about it. "Thanks for reminding him."

"Cicero never forgot," the Keeper smiled with a wink. "Just waiting for the right moment."

Sundas 9 Last Seed 237 4E 2:00 AM

"It was good to see the family together again," I said yawning. Aventus and Babette were still up getting reacquainted, but the rest of us had retired for the night. All of us still kept late and erratic hours, but the older ones couldn't go as long as they used to. Even Cicero slept more now than he used to for which I was grateful. He was more stable when he had rested.

"Yes, yes, good memories," Cicero said as he nuzzled my shoulder. The Keeper had changed very little over the years, he was still crazy as hell and affectionate craving the small physical touches the rest of us took for granted. Years of being alone in Cheydinhal without the touch of another had left Cicero always hungry for human contact. Restless hands traced over my contours that he had memorized years ago, but felt the need to revisit frequently.

"May I?" Cicero asked, his hand hovering over my breast. He always asked even though it really wasn't necessary. After years, decades at this point, of being on again off again lovers, we were still best friends. We slept as brother and sister most of the time, but I looked forward to when we were physically intimate. Sex with Cicero was just as much a comfort for me as it was for him.

"Always," I answered. I kissed him before he continued with his Keeping of his Listener.

Morndas 10 Last Seed 237 4E 8:00 AM

"Cicero wants a contract," the Keeper said. He was pouring over the various scrolls that were on the table that Siltal, Dawnstar's new Speaker since Nazir was promoted to Speaker of Wayrest, used for her paperwork. Although new is a relative term, Siltal has been part of the Brotherhood for twenty years and Speaker for fifteen. So many of our brothers and sisters felt like the new kid to me.

The High Elf huffed in frustration as the Keeper riffled through her carefully stacked papers. Everyone was long used to Cicero's eccentricities, but he could still be trying. Siltal hated when anyone touched her things whether it was her books or her person. Purple energy enveloped her hand as she held it up in a fist. "Listener, let me turn our dear Keeper into a thrall. Maybe then he'll learn to respect other people's things and position."

"Probably not," I smiled ruefully. "Cicero would probably still sing and dance even if he was a zombie. Cicero, I'm sure Siltal will pick a good contract for us and we'll head out tomorrow together."

"No, no, no, Cicero wants his own contract. One for just Cicero and not with Hecate," the Keeper scowled.

"You have never asked for a contract," I responded suspiciously. The only time Cicero ever went on contract was to accompany me as back up.

"And?" Cicero looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Is the Listener saying no?" Technically I had never revoked Cicero's active duty status after the burning of Falkreath, but we were in stable times again. The Keeper's blade should be retired so he could dedicate his time to the caring of the Night Mother.

I shook my head. Cicero crowed in delight and finally picked up one of the scrolls. He glanced at it and nodded in satisfaction. "This one, Cicero wants this one!" The Keeper picked up a travel bag he had dumped next to the table and started to the exit.

"You're leaving today?" I asked shocked. "What about the reunion?"

"The contract is in Markarth," Cicero said as if that explained everything. "Cicero needs time to get there and back for Mother."

"Why now? You could wait," I said. Something was wrong. When Cicero had come to bed the night before, he had held me tight and not talked once. "What are you hiding?" I was yelling. The thu'um wasn't activating; my shrillness was from fear not anger.

Cicero turned at my touch on his sleeve. He grabbed me around the waist and drew me in for a deep kiss. "Let Cicero go," he said softly in my ear. I nodded with my head against his chest, not trusting my voice.

I followed Cicero outside and watched him mount up on his horse. "Promise me that you'll come back," I begged. Cicero always kept his promises. "Be back soon, Mother needs you."

"Cicero will serve Mother as he has always done," the Keeper said with a half bow. His laughter was the last thing I heard as Cicero rode away.

Morndas 17 Last Seed 237 4E 8:00 AM

"Siltal, what contract did Cicero take?" I asked frantic with worry. He hadn't come back yesterday. I thought surely he would have been back no later than Sundas. Cicero always oiled the Night Mother on Sundas without fail. The only times the Keeper had ever failed to oil Mother were when he had gotten pneumonia, and when he had been banished from Falkreath for trying to kill Astrid.

"Um, I don't know. He didn't let me see it when he took it," the Altmer stammered. "I'll have to look through the contracts and figure which one is missing."

"Cicero mentioned Markarth," I said. "How many are for there?"

"Just the one," Siltal said brightening. "I remember it because it was a difficult one. I remember speaking to the petitioner. She was a mourning mother. The woman had lost four sons to the Forsworn War. The target is Madanach, the leader of the Forsworn Rebellion. She wanted revenge for having to bury all of her children. The youngest one was only fifteen."

Mother never named the petitioners. The only exception had been Armaund Motierre and as far as I could tell he was the only petitioner who had wanted a kill for political reasons instead of personal ones. Instead she used titles like "mourning mother" or the "vengeful lover."

"Madanach must be heavily guarded! His fanatics would never let a stranger near him," I dropped into a chair; my legs were suddenly boneless. What had Cicero been thinking choosing that particular contract? Or any contract at all for that matter?

"I had originally planned for several brothers to go in together and take out the whole den," Siltal admitted. She smiled, trying to brighten the situation. "You have to admit that out of all of us, Cicero has the best chance of sneaking past an entire hostile group and killing the target."

"Madanach could be anywhere in those mountains!" I said. I gripped the table so hard that my knuckles turned white. "If the Skyrim army could have flushed them out by now, they would have. They're impossible to find. Cicero could be dead from those barbaric idiots or bears or wolves or anything!"

"Daughter, approach me," the sweet, loving unearthly voice of the Night Mother filled my mind. Over the years, our mental connection had strengthened and I could sense her anywhere in the Sanctuary.

"Mother!" I cried trying to keep tears from leaking from my eyes. I ran down the stairs into the catacombs towards the dark iron coffin that housed our matron. The Night Mother rarely spoke to me outside of giving me contracts for the Speaker. There had been times I had desperately wished she would intercede with her fighting children, but she never did. Mother let her children fend for themselves so they could grow to be worthy of her and the Dread Lord.

"Do you know? Do you know where Cicero is?" I almost threw myself onto the cold, shadow shrouded coffin, but stopped short. The Keeper would be angry if I disrespected the Night Mother's resting place.

"I do," the Night Mother said calmly. I could feel her spiritual embrace soothing me. "Sweet Cicero is in Markarth. You will find him in Cidhna Mine as well as the target. Kill the target and bring my Keeper home."

Cidhna Mine? It was a combination silver mine and prison for the Reach. It was a brutal place. Prisoners for almost every crime were sent there to work off their time. The mine was heavily guarded for its precious silver ore. No one ever escaped from there.

No one.

Middas 19 Last Seed 237 4E 2:00 PM

I didn't like Markarth. It had been in civil unrest ever since before the Stormcloak Rebellion twenty-six years ago. Once again the sovereign rights of the natives were being ignored by the winning side. The Forsworn were the sons and daughters of Breton-blooded natives who had lived in the Reach for over a hundred years. They were ousted about forty years ago when the Nords took over the area. They had their own brand of religion which included revering Hagravens that they wished to practice, but were forbidden by the Nords—ironically led by Ulfric Stormcloak at the time.

Going into the mountainside city meant you had to risk the overly zealous guards. The slightest offense and you were thrown into jail. Forsworn dominated the roadways and would attack anyone regardless of their connections to the Nords or Bretons. They had grown so mad with their righteousness no one was safe.

I scanned the city thinking desperately of what to do next. Siltal was with me and I had also brought an orc, Dreggs Khash, to help me with our rescue. Dreggs had only been part of the Brotherhood for six years, but he was reliable like all of my siblings and had the skills we needed for this quest.

I had sent an initiate to Falkreath Sanctuary to let Aventus know what was happening. We were going to need backup once we escaped and I couldn't think of anyone else I trusted more. Nazir and Meena were already on their way back to their Sanctuaries and I had no idea how to get to them in time. The Khajiit would be pissed she missed out on this, but she would survive the disappointment. I just hoped the same could be said for our Keeper.

I had neither the time nor inclination to be subtle. I knew how to get into the mines and I was going to do the most efficient way possible. I walked up to a guard and punched him. Other guards came running within seconds. Siltal and Dreggs joined in the fray; they were coming into the mines too.

Middas 19 Last Seed 237 4E 5:00 PM

"Work your time and behave and we'll let you out in no time," the guard said sarcastically as we were locked into the mines. "The more silver you bring, the faster it will go."

All three of us were banged up. We hadn't put up too much resistance, but as mentioned the guards were really enthusiastic. Dreggs had a black eye and Siltal's wrist was swollen. It didn't comfort me when I overheard one of the guards complain the exact same thing of a guard being randomly attacked happened last week.

It sounded just like something Cicero would do.

I approached a nearby prisoner. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a middle-aged Imperial. Red and silver hair. Talks in third person a lot." The man tried to ignore me and move away, but I tightened my grip on his arm. "Trust me; it goes a lot easier if you just cooperate." My tone must have impressed the man because he pointed towards a side tunnel.

I ran towards the tunnel, the prisoner already forgotten. Shortly inside the curve, I found Cicero. He was little more than a lump on the ground curled into a protective fetal position. I rolled the Fool over, who was wearing the same ragged clothes as the rest of the prisoners, and gasped at the sight. The Keeper's face was a maze of black and purple bruises. I could tell by the way he was holding his side that several ribs were broken. Dried blood speckled untreated cuts.

"Fool!" I yelled. I wanted to shake Cicero, but resisted the urge. He deserved it, but I didn't want to hurt him further. He looked so fragile, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Cicero knows, he botched his assignment," the Keeper laughed weakly. "Tried to get into prison to get to target and guards were tougher than he thought. It always worked before. Remember, Listener? Remember when we got thrown into jail in Riften?"

"Riften is safe compared to this place," I muttered. I picked up a nearby pickaxe and tested the weight. It was heavier than I preferred, but all our personal items had been confiscated when we were arrested. "It only has to worry about thieves." I turned to my other brother and sister. "Siltal, can you handle Cicero?"

"More or less," she flexed her wrist. "It will be a little annoying at first, but once you get rolling it will be like cake."

"Dreggs," I nodded to the orc who grinned that he was ready. "Leave no prisoners alive." I stood up and hefted the pickaxe. "For the Night Mother!" I screamed as I ran forward.

"For the Night Mother!" the Brotherhood yelled behind me.

Dreggs laid down cover fire with incineration spells over my shoulders. Prisoners screamed as they turned to dust.

"Idiot, use lightning or ice," Siltal scolded. "I can't rez them if they're dust."

"Sorry," Dreggs grinned as he hit another prisoner with an icy shower. The man fell to the ground frozen completely through. Siltal hit the corpse with a purple ray and raised him as a zombie. She commanded the creature to help her carry Cicero who had one arm thrown over the high elf's shoulder.

Siltal and Dreggs had been chosen for this trip because Siltal was a necromancer and Dreggs was an invoker. Weapons could be disarmed, but magic was always available to mages. Perfect for this place. My Shouts would supplement my fighting until I could grab a real weapon.

I slammed into two more prisoners who were yelling their own rallying cry, "For the Reach!" My pickaxe took the one on the right in the stomach. I Shouted, "FUS RO DAH!" throwing them backwards into other prisoners who were streaming out from another side tunnel.

I took another breath and immediately Shouted, "IISS SLEN NUS," the ice form shout that turned all those caught into completely frozen statues. I'd done my best to master the thu'um over the years instead of being controlled by it. I could Shout without pause if I was well rested.

Siltal quickly raised the four prisoners I had dropped. Ice crackled as the zombies rose to defend their new masters. The numbers were starting to swing into our favor. I don't know how many prisoners there were here or how many were actually Forsworn. I really should have checked, but seeing Cicero's fallen form had pushed me away from rational to passionate. No one hurt my family.

No one.

I found two more pickaxes to dual wield while Dreggs filled a corridor with fire. I hefted them, hating the extra weight. It was going to slow me down terribly. Strike too slow and you're dead has always been my experience. "SU GRAH DUN," I Shouted and watched as wind wrapped around my arms to give me more speed in my swing.

As I tore into a new set of prisoners armed with their own pickaxes, Siltal had her zombies create a protective circle around her and Cicero. The Keeper's face was slumped forward and his face was hidden by his dirty, blood-matted hair. He was quiet, so quiet. The Fool of Hearts had always laughed, screamed, and taunted during combat.

Dragon rage flowed through me when I saw Cicero that way. I Shouted fire and ice over and over. When it was over, only the Brotherhood was still standing. I was sure somewhere in that rubble of bodies was our target, but I had Dreggs help me check to be sure. I was not going to risk that our target had gotten away somehow in the madness.

"I think I found him," the orc said standing over the body of an old man. Judging by his wounds, Siltal's zombies had been the ones to actually kill him. He must not have realized his men had been turned and it had cost him his life. Dreggs held up a silver key. "Found this too!"

The key went to a gate that led deeper into the mountain and not the one we came through originally. Part of me wanted to ignore that route and break up through the guards' barracks instead. But Cicero was hurt and it would be safer for him to take the back route.

Before we left, I had Dreggs burn an imprint of the Black Hand on the wall. The world would know that the Brotherhood had infiltrated the Cidhna Mines and escaped, leaving no survivors.

Loredas 22 Last Seed 237 4E 1:00 PM

"What in the Void were you thinking?" I yelled at Cicero. Upon leaving the mines, we stumbled onto Aventus. The boy had retrieved our gear from the barracks and had left a trail of dead guards in his wake. I had gratefully taken back my daedric bow, Styx, and Cicero's worn motley. The carefully folded clothes were still tucked into my backpack.

We had made it home with no further incident and the jester was in bed. Babette was tending to his wounds while I hovered nearby ranting. "You had to have known it was too dangerous to go. You really thought it was the best idea to punch a guard and get thrown into the worst prison in all of Tamriel?"

"Hecate did," Cicero laughed. The laugh was cut short from Cicero's injuries. "Ow."

"Stay still," Babette said simply. Her expression was grim. She was expertly winding bandages around Cicero's ribs. I flinched at the distended yellow-purple mess of bruises on Cicero's chest.

"To get you! Why were you so secretive? Why did you suddenly need a contract after all these years of being happy coming with me when I went out? Did you want to die?"

"Could unchild give Cicero and the Listener some privacy?" Cicero asked Babette.

"I am done for now," Babette stood up and primly dusted her dress. "I will be back with some painkillers." She turned to me. "No matter how much he angers you, do not shake him. I do not want to risk further injury."

"Can I slap him a few times?" I growled.

"No," Babette said as she picked up her bag and left. She was not in a good mood either if she wasn't making snarky comments. Cicero must be in bad shape.

Cicero patted the bed for me to sit next to him. I hesitated, but did so. He wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head as I leaned my head against his shoulder. "What happened?" I asked suddenly tired.

Cicero was quiet for so long I was starting to wonder if he wasn't going to answer me. Over the years if I asked something the jester didn't want to answer, he would change the subject or just ignore the question. I wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. Not after what had happened.

"I dropped Mother," Cicero's voice was so low I almost didn't hear him. Hell, I almost didn't recognize his voice, it was so small.

"What?"

"The night before the reunion. Cicero was taking care of Mother as usual. I went to pick her up and she slipped. I dropped Mother!" Tears coursed down Cicero's face as he sobbed silently. "Cicero has never done that. Even when Cicero was learning how to be Keeper, Cicero has always been very, so very careful."

"You're getting old," I said gently. I placed my hand on his cheek and wiped the tears away. "It's okay."

"It is not okay!" Cicero's eyes snapped open full of fire. "Cicero must be the Keeper or he doesn't want to be alive. To be neither Keeper nor assassin would be worse than death. Cicero decided he would rather take one last contract for Mother. If Cicero succeeded, Mother would be pleased and forgive Cicero for his mistake. If not, then Mother could judge humble Cicero in the Void."

Cicero started coughing. It sounded bad, full of fluid. When he took his hand away, I could see bright red blood. "I'll get Babette. She needs to know. You rest in the meantime."

19 Last Seed 237 4E 6:00 PM

"Cicero is dying," Babette said simply. "The injuries he took at the mine were too severe and there is some infection. If he was a younger man, I would think he would pull through. But in his older state, it is too hard on his system."

The two of us were sitting in Babette's room. I remembered a time when we would have had this conversation in the main room, but the Sanctuary was too crowded with new children and there would be no privacy.

Earlier while Babette was tending to Cicero, I had given Dreggs and Siltal the bonus and pay for the contract we had completed. Siltal had tried to give the money back and said it was unnecessary, but I insisted that she had earned it. The lack of desire for coin was one of her qualities that I liked best about the elf.

"There has to be something we can do," I said slammed my fists into Babette's bed. "I could appeal to a daedric lord or something. Sheogorath has an interest in Cicero, he must! I could try him or maybe Sanguine."

"Listener," Babette placed her small hand over my fists. "You're going to have to let Cicero go. His soul belongs to Sithis; no other daedra would dare oppose the Dread Father."

"What about restoration magic? We could find a priest of Kynareth. They can heal about anyone of anything."

Babette shook her head. "There's not enough time. The nearest temple is too far away."

"Vampirism," I suggested looking at Babette. The thought of the Keeper as a vampire wasn't appealing, but it was better than the alternative.

"I will not turn the Keeper," Babette said. "He will not want the dark gift and I will not force it upon him. I suggest you make your goodbyes."

"No!" I snapped jumping to my feet. "I won't accept that. I can't."

"Then give him a reason to want to stay," Babette said calmly. Her gaze bore into me. She couldn't possibly be implying what I thought she was implying. I fled from the room and back to Cicero.

I threw myself into the bed, careful to not jostle the Keeper. I was sobbing uncontrollably against Cicero's chest. "I'm going to make you better. I'll find a way to make you young and we'll be together like we always promised."

Cicero wrapped an arm around me. "No," he said. I looked at him. Cicero so very rarely refused me; it was always a shock for him to do so. Cicero spoke slowly, each word a struggle. "Cicero is ready for his favor now, Diana. Cicero wants for the Listener to erect a new crypt for Mother like she suggested once a long time ago. Inter loyal Cicero with Mother."

"No more need for Keepers?" I asked. Cicero had been furious at the suggestion at the time.

"No more Keepers," Cicero smiled.

"Okay," I choked on the word. "But only because I was stupid once a long time ago and owe you, Fool. Cicero, I…" I was finally going to say those Binding Words. The ones normal people say. I had waited so long. I should have said them a long time ago, but I thought I had all the time in the world. Maybe if I said them now, they would be a good enough reason for Cicero to stay here with me.

"Shush," Cicero put up one hand, his head cocked to the side. He sounded tired and weak. "Mother is that your voice I hear?" Eyes closed, the Keeper smiled. "Coming…Mother."

Finally, after waiting so long, the Keeper had gone home to his mother.

? ? 237 4E

I lost track of time. It all blurred together now. Hours, days, weeks in the Sanctuary were all the same. I still Listened to Mother and gave her commands to her children. Lives taken and souls sent to Sithis.

It didn't matter to me.

Cicero had always complained about how he hated the silence. I had never appreciated how terrible nothing could be until now. Even those three quiet months with the Greybeards didn't compare to the lonely silence I had to deal with now. I was used to constantly planning and plotting that when Cicero died and all I had was the quiet it was enough to drive one insane.

The jester would laugh so hard at me right now.

I was curled up next to Mother's coffin. My arms were hugging my knees to my chest. Siltal was working hard on figuring out the components needed to make a proper crypt with all the protective spells that would guard the Matron's physical and spiritual self. Mostly the High elf was waiting for me to choose the location.

Dawnstar had always been Cicero's sanctuary first and foremost. He had discovered the passphrase and made it his home when he had hesitated joining Astrid's group. Cheydinhal had no personal ghosts there, but it had been Cicero's home before where he had lost his family for the second time. I didn't know if it was safe to go back to Bravil where the Night Mother's crypt had originally resided. Not that I really wanted to go back to my home city for personal reasons.

In the end, I would probably decide to stay here. Skyrim was my home now, not Cyrodiil. It didn't matter. Wherever Mother went, Cicero would be there with her and all the pain that brought. I couldn't flee and start over like I used to when I was young.

"Daughter," the Night Mother said. "What can I do for you?"

"Make the pain go away," I said.

"Do you wish to die?" Mother offered. "Death takes everything away. No more chances, no more mistakes, no more regrets."

"No, ma'am," I sighed. "I want to live. I probably have hundreds of years due to me thanks to the dragon souls I have devoured. It would be waste to throw them away."

The Night Mother laughed in my head. She had ever done that before. "You are a good child. Always obedient. Always patient. Always caring. You could have been seen as their mother, their matron, but you always made sure they put me first. You were the big sister to take care of the little ones."

"I live to serve," I said dully. "No disrespect if I am not more excited at your praise."

"None taken," the Night Mother was pleased. "I should give you a reward."

"None is needed," I responded.

"Yet you shall have one," Mother promised. "Did you know some of my children, the very best who served loyally in life, also serve in death? Only the most precious are given this honor. The last one was a Speaker named Lucien LaChance over two hundred years ago. I will grant a spectral assassin bound to your soul to work by your side. You will never need to worry about your right hand growing old and dying before you are ready to join us in the Void."

"Thank you, Mother. You're too kind." Frankly I didn't care about this Lucien fellow. No doubt he had been an amazing brother, but I didn't know him or want to.

"No, I am terrible, but you have earned it. Whenever you are done with his services, dismiss him and he will return to my side until you need him again."

Mist began to form before me. Blue spectral light slowly brightened as it formed into a shape. The shape of a man. I wasn't interested until I noticed the funny boots with the swirls on the side. I looked up and saw Cicero, young again in death, leaning forward so his face was inches from mine. A huge grin was on his face. Gloved hands were planted on his hips and a foot tapped impatiently.

"Let's kill someone," my spectral assassin said laughing.

My heart caught in my throat. I could still say the words to my Keeper. The binding words that normal people say. But not today; it would be too weird today in front of Mother. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow. We had all the time in the world.

A/N: I don't know if I'll ever write the adventures of Hecate and Spectral Cicero, but it's not impossible. I almost ended with Cicero's death, but decided that was too much of a kick to the gut to end there. Since I never used Lucien, it was a perfect way to use the spectral assassin with a little reflavoring. Even when I reread this story, I get torn up. I hope you all forgive me, but one of Hecate's biggest problems was that she would outlive Cicero and the repercussions.

Cicero dying and Hecate's regret of not doing more was one of the earliest concepts for my story. Originally it was going to be she had been more intimate or even had slept with him at all, but that subplot quickly died in For the Future of Skyrim. Instead it came down to she always rationalized that she could say "I love you" later. That there is always tomorrow.

Until it there isn't.