"Are you gonna tell me where we're going?" Lumen whines, her lashes bending against the cloth of her blindfold. "We've been at this for hours."

"We are almost there," Cicero says, patting her on the thigh. "Skyrim is a big country. It takes a while to get from one place to another!"

"You could have waited to put the blindfold on me. It itches."

"Ah, Cicero does apologize for that. But he promises you, we are almost there!"

The scents of lavender and wheat dance on the breeze, and tease at Lumen's nose. In the distance she can hear the gentle rumble of a mammoth herd, and she assumes they are somewhere near the southern part of the Pale, if not Whiterun hold itself. Eventually the sounds of the herd fade away, and amidst the gentle padding of Shadowmere's hooves, she can hear the distant rattle of a windmill.

"We are here, sweet Lumen," Cicero says, his voice pitched low. "You may remove your blindfold."

She tugs the scrap of material away from her eyes. "My surprise is a farm?" she asks quietly, more out of habit than any real desire to remain hidden. "Did you purchase a farm? That's rather domestic of you. Looking to raise some chickens and pop out a few elflets?"

"Do not make poor Cicero laugh!" He tries to muffle a fit of manic giggles. "We need to be quiet! The surprise will be spoiled if a guard comes snooping about."

Lumen dismounts the horse, her feet hitting the dirt road with a soft thud. She takes in a slow, steadying breath, because she knows this road and this farm. There, just up a sloping hill, is the Loreius farm. That small house has been the site of so many unfulfilled fantasies, and to actually be there now is nearly too much to bear. How many times has she passed by, or very near, and been unable to act on her desires?

Cicero is beside her, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Do you know where we are?"

"Yes," she breathes. "But why are we here?"

He scratches at the back of his neck. "This is where poor, lonely Cicero first met his sweet Lumen. It is a special place, is it not?" His eyes meet hers, but he is unable to maintain her gaze. "Cicero, thought— Oh, bugger it all. Cicero was never any good at this—"

She places her hand on his cheek, stilling his nervous babbling with a touch. "That was almost a year ago, wasn't it?"

"It's been a bit longer than that," he sheepishly admits. "But when the seventeenth of Last Seed came around, we were dealing with Delphine and her thugs."

"So this is an anniversary present?" She cuts her gaze to him, and she is inordinately pleased when he bites his lip and looks away. Rarely is Cicero so shy. "You're adorable."

"Cicero is not." He turns his back to her, and folds his arms tightly over his chest. "Cicero was trying to do something nice for his sweet Lumen, and he does not appreciate being mocked."

"I'm not mocking you," she says, pressing against his back and wrapping her arms around him. "What if I honestly think you're adorable?"

"Kittens are adorable," he says, but there is no bite to his voice. "Cicero is a bloodthirsty murderer. Cicero is a con-artist and a thief. Cicero is a defiler of virgins—"

Lumen interrupts him with a snort. "Have you ever defiled a virgin?"

"Maybe? That's not the point! Cicero is wicked and villainous! He is not adorable."

"I don't mean it in the 'cute' sense," she whispers, her lips against the shell of his ear. "I mean that I adore you. I mean that you are worthy of worship." Her hand grazes across the silky velvet of his motley, over his belt and between his legs. That she finds him half-hard doesn't come as a surprise. "You are pretty cute, though."

"The Listener thinks the Keeper is worthy of worship?" He leans into her touch, gasping when she starts to stroke and tease him. "Go on," he growls. "Tell Cicero how you plan to worship him."

Lumen sucks in a hissing breath through clenched teeth. It's taking all her self-control not to throw him down and have her way with him right there on the road. The only thing stopping her is the knowledge that a guard will be by soon— and Shadowmere would not appreciate that happening right in front of him. As it is, the horse is probably debating who to bite first.

"I want to ride you until you scream." Rarely is she so blunt. But the killer within her has taken control, and she hasn't a care for propriety. "And if you're good and obedient, perhaps I'll let you tie me up for a change."

Cicero steps out of her arms, and turns to face her. "Does this mean you like your anniversary gift?" he asks, a deliciously wicked grin curling his lips. "It is a success if it ends in sex, yes?"

She returns the grin, her eyes flicking to the farmhouse on the hill. "I've wanted this for so long," she says quietly. "I've thought about it so many times since I saw her, but now that I'm here I don't know what to do."

"We do not have to kill the farmer or his pretty wife if you are having a change of heart," he says, watching her carefully. "There's a bandit hideout not too far from here. We can sate your bloodlust on more challenging prey."

"I wouldn't call this a change of heart." He throat feels tight, because she's not used to these odd swells of emotion that keep coming over her. Sometimes she longs for the days where she had only her anger to guide her. But now she's different. She's not the same person she was a year ago, or even six months ago. Because now she can laugh and love. She can forgive and she can seek revenge. She can kill and she can show mercy. The shadow that stalked her dreams is gone— dead by her own hand. While Malrian's death didn't fix her, something changed the day he breathed his last. She is no longer a slave her to her anger.

"Tell Cicero what you are thinking." His fingers curl around hers. "You will find no judgement here."

"I used to be so angry," she says quickly. "And sad. I didn't want to acknowledge it then, but I can admit it now. Hearing the screams of my victims was like— hearing my sorrow structured into sound. I needed it. It felt good to hurt someone. It still does, but it's different now."

"How so?" Cicero is gazing up at her, his smile soft and genuine. There isn't a trace of the jester in sight— or the assassin. She is given a rare opportunity to see the man behind the masks, and she will not squander it. She will not lie to him. Not now. Not ever.

"It's different because Malrian is dead— and I don't need to kill the farmer's wife." A gentle breeze stirs a nearby field of wheat, and Lumen can feel her anxiety fading away. "I'm in control now."

"As the Listener should be," Cicero says, seemingly pleased. "A lack of control will get an assassin killed or caught. You've come very far, sweet Lumen, and Cicero is very proud of you. You are in control of that need that drives you, and not the other way around."

She offers him a half-hearted smirk. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, Cicero knows that," he says with a wave of his hand. "So, what now?"

"I think I'd rather kill someone who truly deserves it."

"Very well." He loops his arm in hers as they walk toward Shadowmere. "Is Cicero still getting ridden? He was looking forward to that."

"Of course," she laughs, pulling him close. "But after we kill those bandits."

Notes: This was short (sorry!) but necessary. It felt weird tacking it on to the end of the last chapter. So it gets it's own! Anyway, this is it, folks. This is the end. Thank you so much for sticking with me through sporadic updates! Your comments and support kept me going, and I really don't think I would have finished this monster of a fic if it weren't for my lovely readers. So I want to thank you, from the bottom of my cold husk of a heart.

When I started writing this fic I wanted to tell a story of a ruthless killer who found her humanity through the Dark Brotherhood. I hope I succeeded. Lumen isn't a good person, nor will she ever be. But she is in control now, and I am proud of her.

I should have the first chapter of the sequel posted within the month. It's called Fait Accompli, so keep an eye out for it! :D