One of Destiny

Author's Note: This is a sequel to Slave to Fate, so, if you haven't read that then you will most likely be confused. For my returning readers, enjoy! I won't promise fast updates but I'll give you at least this while I work on it. This book takes place about two weeks after the last so right about the beginnings of winter.

Prologue

Normally, the stillness of the air would have welcomed her, however, today she wished it away along with the bitterness of the past mission that was still left in her mouth.

Quill sighed deeply, the dark mist around her rising. She lowered her dark hood as she pulled her horse around the cliff, disappearing into darkness. Below was a pond filled with both water and blood as a sign to stay away from what laid beyond. Ancient skeletons littered the edges of the pond, reaching out from the ground as if they had been buried alive. Although the pond interested her, what caught her attention the most was the dark door before her, a beacon among the mists. A dark handprint along with a skull marked the entrance.

She placed her furry hand onto the marking, waiting for the voice to appear.

"What is the music of life?" it asked.

"Silence, my brother," she muttered. The door opened slowly, a red glow and a flight of stairs becoming apparent. She took a torch from the side of the hall as the door behind her shut, granting her darkness once again.

As she made it to the commons of the Dark Brotherhood hideout, she immediately swallowed, prepared for anything. She looked up and spotted Astridwith a face angry enough to spur a Deadra. She had dark rings underneath her eyes, probably from a loss of sleep, and was shaking her head as Quill entered – not because of her though.

"Come, we seem to be having a bit of a problem," she said. Quill narrowed her yellow eyes, wondering what else could have happened.

Astrid knew that Quill, the blood thirsty and mysterious Khajiit, wasn't one for words, so she headed towards the main hall expecting Quill to follow. The Khajiit did in fact follow closely behind, pulling off her hood in order to see the main room clearly.

The Dark Brotherhood hideout was more of a cave then anything, as advertised by the front. She had returned from her last mission helping some alchemist named Muiri get her revenge on some pretty boy bandit and a rich family in Windhelm. Quill didn't care for the details however she barely got out of the Dwemer ruin alive.

And, before even that, the Brotherhood had a little…visitor.

"I want to know what he is up to, Quill," Astrid started, walking towards an ancient Nordic wall. "He acts like a mad man for a reason no doubt. Whispering to that coffin hours on end… He hasn't left the room since he came here. And then when he does he's dancing around the place praising the Night Mother like a banshee." Quill gave her a look with her yellow eyes, considering the leader of the Brotherhood coldly.

"What do you want me to do about it?" she asked. What, did Astrid want her to humor the abnormal jester? Kill him? He wasn't doing anything wrong except prancing around like a normal fool. Though, she had a feeling that the "mother" in the coffin was more than just a dead body.

Astrid huffed. "I want you to spy on him. Go into that coffin of his, he never opens it, and see what's in there." She turned around to face the Khajiit. "He'll never expect you to be there if you already have been gone for a few weeks."

What she said was true and the job sounded easy. So, she nodded once, reluctant to do any of this for Astrid who she wasn't really keen on helping. But, she was curious about the jester.

She walked the halls until she got to the top of the hideout, finding the door wide open. She heard scurrying from beyond the room, probably the jester eating a meal or something. She walked slowly like a shadow, peering towards the weird man. He was there concentrating on a journal of some sort, the quill waggling in the air. He was whispering to himself in a fever, dipping the pen in ink before wildly scratching out something.

"Not him… not her…"

She stepped away from the door frame and headed towards another room. The coffin was laid against the wall as if it was an alter with candles laid among it, each flickering delicately. She paused before beginning to mess with the coffin's lock, easily sliding the chambers to release. Inside was indeed a dead women… she had doubted that whatever was in there was indeed a corpse. The thing seemed to eye her with hollow eyes and once she stepped closer the doors snapped shut, trapping her.

"Gods…" she whispered but remained silent, peering up at the skull of the dead woman. The Night Mother. The thing smelled disgusting mixed with lint and dust. She struggled not to cough and sneeze once she heard footsteps echoing down the hall.

She heard a laughter then a sputter. "Are we alone?" she heard him ask. The jester giggled again. "Yes…yes…alone. Sweet solitude. Everything is going according to plan." His voice was high and squeaky and annoyed her to death. He was defiantly mad however at the mention of a plan, her ears perked up.

"The others… I've spoken to them... and they're coming around, I know it. The wizard… the Argonian… and the un-child." He pursed his lips into a smacking sound. "What about you… have you… spoken to anyone? No… no of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying!" The jester's voice rose in volume. "And what do you do, hmm? Nothing!" He paused checking himself as he lowered his voice. "Uh… not that I'm angry! No, never, heh. Cicero understands and obeys. But… you'll talk when you're ready, won't you… won't you?…sweet Night Mother."

Quill struggled to move slightly, her legs beginning to cramp up from the small space she was forced into. She felt different however… she had closed her eyes due to the darkness, however her eyelids revealed a slight light from beyond. She opened them and saw the corpse she was hugging glowing as if from Oblivion.

"Poor Cicero…" began a mysterious voice from beyond. "Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice for he is not the listener." Quill's eyes widened once she realized it was the corpse talking to her and flinched away, eyes drawing upon the dead woman.

"Oh, but how can I defend you? How will I exert your will if you will not speak to anyone? To anyone!"

"Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one." Quill tilted her head before she realized what she meant. The Listener was her. This crazed jester was speaking the truth and this was indeed the Night Mother from the old Brotherhood. She wondered, what did this thing want from her?

The corpse seemed to know what she was thinking. "Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb and warms my ancient bones. I give you this task—journey to Volunruud and speak with Amaund Motierre." The Night Mother dimmed. "Someone you are... already very well acquainted with."

Motierre. He summoned the Night Mother to perform a task that no doubt will have something to do with the Emperor. She was suspicious, had he known all along? What was he up to? And why was he in Skyrim?

"Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry sweet mother. I've tried, so very hard… but I can't find the Listener." The light returned as the body spoke.

"Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him: 'Darkness rises when silence dies.'"

Suddenly, the coffin opened, light spilling out in waves. Her eyes took time to adjust as she turned around to see the jester, Cicero—eyes and mouth opened wide as he saw a cat crawling near his mother. She remained silent as Cicero screamed.

"Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the Night Mother! Defiler!" The ruckus caused some people from the next room to peer in due to her leaving the door open. The jester continued to shout at her. "What are you doing here!"

Quill stepped out the coffin, brushing off spider webs while showing her teeth to the fool. "Apparently your Night Mother spoke to me," she said with narrowed eyes.

The fool crossed his arms. "…spoke to you?" he scoffed. "Lies! The Night Mother only speaks to the Listener! And there is…no…Listener!"

She sniffed once coming closer to the fool, scaring him with her bright eyes. She almost seemed to whisper to him as she bent over, glaring at him with daggers. "Darkness rises when silence dies," was all she said.

Cicero's face softened after hearing those words, relaxing his shoulders as he took a step back. "She…said that… to you? 'Darkness rises when silence dies…'"

Gradually, his mouth upturned into a large yet creepy smile. He began laughing joyfully, clapping his hands then dancing about the room. "Then… it's true! She's back! Our lady is back!" He noticed the people piling up near the door and addressed them. "She has chosen a Listener! A Listener!" He began to cackling from either madness or happiness—Quill wasn't exactly sure. "All hail the Night Mother! All hail the Listener!" He pushed aside the many assassins who gave her confused looks as the jester announced to the world.

"The Khajiit's the Listener! She's the Listener! All hail the Night Mother!"

And something told her that all would change in her life as an assassin.