//------------------------------//
// The Mother 
// Story: Sisters of Shadowmere 
// by Psycho Pwny 
//------------------------------//

|====[Sisters]====|
|==[of]==|
|========[Shadowmere:]========|




{The}-=-{Mother}



"Oh dearest Mother, do not fret, loyal Keeper Cicero will deliver you to sanctuary~!"
Cicero, perhaps the single most devoted disciple of the Night Mother had traveled far. From the temped region of Cyrodiil the Imperial Province to the cold reaches of callous Skyrim had left the crazied little imperial jester craving deliverance. He truly loved the Night Mother as any proper son of Sithis should, but as he approached the tarnished Falkreath Sanctuary, he had a brief moment of pure animosity towards his dark parents and absent brethren.
"This WRETCHED wooden WAGON! Useless! I tried Mother, I tried! I shall continue on, soldier on, as they say--just TELL me where!"

Cicero tossed his signature jester's hat aside and pulled on his tinted red hair--truly, he was lost.
He was also angry, so very angry. The alluring shine of his ebony blade was a comforting stress reliever. Perhaps a token of forgiveness from Sithis himself. The smell of his decaying siblings demanded fresh blood, and blood, Cicero was willing to give.
The hungry blade was lifted and promptly drew blood--not Cicero's blood mind you, he knew his was needed as healthy as possible to serve Sithis's will.
The horse, the heroic relentless horse that had pulled the wretched wagon from Cyrodiil to Skyrim was the answer to Cicero's demand for blood. The beast of burden quickly fell, a mercy from the Night Mother in its own right. The warm haze that followed comforted Cicero and it was if the Night Mother was wrapping him in her loving cold embrace. Cicero was happy. Cicero was once again the loyal Keeper.

"Aww, did you really have to kill it so violently? All that blood, it's frozen and wasted now."

Cicero froze. That was not Cicero's voice, nor the fabled Night Mother's.
A little breton girl stepped out into the open and eyed the corpse of the horse not with the expected pity, but looked at it with a contempt sense of lose.

Cicero anticipated an alarm for the guard to be called up by the little girl, but none came. When Cicero noticed the girl's expression, it was empty, yet portrayed wit--the wit of a killer. A fellow Dark Brother follower? Where there so few siblings left that Sithis and the Night Mother had to rely on the follies of mere children?! Cicero wasn't sure how to feel. Jealousy because the children will have more life to give to the Brotherhood, or rage because they would only serve as a distraction to the true purposes of the Brother--

"Excuse me, Mr....Jester? Do you know what this place is?"

"I..little girl, do happen to know...but! Ahem, tell me! What does that dark door with the skull mean, hmmm?!" Cicero gripped his blade close. The little girl's answer would determine whether or not she would join the horse in his agitated state.

"Hehe, you seem to be a pretty good jester. That skull, is Sithis of the Dark Brotherhood."

Cicero's grip on his blade loosened, bits of clarity crossed his features as little hopeful butterflies began to flutter in his belly.

"Then, little girl, do you know about the Night Mother... and perhaps more?"

The girl seemed hesitant to answer at first, but a fangy smile soon assured absolute confidence in her strengths.
"Of course, I was once apart of the dark family, the Brotherhood...but its gone now..."

"Oh dear...how, horrible. Ooooh, consarnit ALL! ALL to Sithis's blackest reach! No, the Brotherhood will always live as long as the scared corpse of the Night Mother remains intact~!" Cicero gestured wildly to the precious coffin and a goofy grin spread across his faced as he affectionately patted the case.

"So little girl, you remain a sister of the Brotherhood still! Are there any others? Is there another sanctuary? Tell me, tell me, is there still hope for a better start?! Oh, oh, is there a LISTENER!? Oh...heh...and what's your name, sister?" Cicero clasped his hands together, eyes wild with manic joy. Things were looking up!

The little girl's smile disappeared, and was replaced by a solemn look of grieving. She crossed her arms, deep in thought as she took in the information. "Well, no, the sanctuary was destroyed a few days ago...by the Dragonborn. I was lucky enough to be out hunting--when I came back, everything was destroyed or gone. Oh, and I'm Babette, an alchemy merchant and vampire."

"Ooo, how interesting, an un-child and potion peddler. Very fitting for the Brotherhood. I'm Cicero, loyal Keeper to the Night Mother, now and forever~!"
Cicero suddenly felt ill as a disturbing realization donned on him. "Wait, the Dragonborn did this?! But...that warrior, helped me fix my wagon..."

"Soo, Cicero--"

Cicero suddenly gasped, "And the Listener!? Is there one? Are YOU, the Listener!?"

"No, there isn't a 'Listener.' There hasn't been one in this sanctuary for decades."

"I...no Listener? But, but how will we receive guidance and praise from Mother, now?"

"Well, we should find a safe place for Mother, first, before we do anything else. After all, you said the Dark Brotherhood lives so long as the Night Mother is present. So what was your plan, Cicero?" Babette's confident grin resurfaced once more.

"Oh, Bab-babette, I was hoping the Night Mother and I could find sanctuary in Falkreath, but, um well...pffft, not anymore-!"

"I figured, we could always relocate to the Dawnstar Santuary. It's been abandoned for decades, but it's good. The Dragonborn and other organizations against the Brotherhood wouldn't suspect a thing!"

"Wait...you mean...we have to travel...again?" 
The poor little jester's manic spirit began to sputter and die--Cicero hated traveling.

"Of course! Although, it's gonna take a lot longer since we don't have a horse to pull the carriage anymore."