A/N: Kay. So. I don't know exactly what Cicero looks like up close, therefore I've done the best I can with what I've seen on my game.
IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED THE DARK BROTHERHOOD PLOT LINE, THIS STORY MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
IF YOU HAVE FINISHED THE DARK BROTHERHOOD PLOT LINE, HAPPY READING! :D
.
I can't do it. I can't do this. These lines repeated themselves over and over in Isolde's head as she rode to Dawnstar. The constant rhythm of Shadowmere's hooves kept the time of her panicked thoughts. I can't. She never thought she'd say that, even to herself. Ever since she'd been recognized as the Dragonborn, Isolde had taken every challenge she'd been given; not only had she taken the quests, she'd excelled at fulfilling them. This, however, was a task that terrified her.
Astrid was furious about the attack in the Falkreath Sanctuary. She'd given Isolde instructions to find Arnbjorn, and to kill the one who'd injured him. But to do as Astrid said, Isolde would have to end the life of the man she loved.
Dawnstar came into view ahead, the sight putting a tight knot of dread in the pit of Isolde's stomach. She rode around the buildings, stopping short at the sight of Arnbjorn, laid out on the snow.
"Arnbjorn!" She gasped, sliding off Shadowmere and running to crouch at the side of the injured assassin. He groaned, holding his side to staunch the flow of blood from his wound.
"Hello, little lamb chop," Arnbjorn said through gritted teeth, using Isolde's nickname. She immediately shushed him, ripping up strands of an old tunic to bind his injury. "Astrid sent you, didn't she? Probably told you to kill that little joker freak as well." Isolde's heart throbbed painfully, but she nodded.
"Shadowmere will take you back to Falkreath. I'll… finish things here." She helped Arnbjorn onto Shadowmere and watched as they rode away. Then, with a deep breath, Isolde drew her sword and entered the Sanctuary.
.
.
.
Immediately, two ghosts appeared. Isolde engaged them and defeated them swiftly. As the last one died, a voice called out through the Sanctuary. Isolde recognized it instantly, hurrying her pace through the caverns and following that tone she knew so well. More ghosts materialized, trying to kill her, but sheer determination to find the source of the voice drove her ever onward, and nothing would stop her. At last, she burst into the final room of the Sanctuary. A figure was sprawled out on the cold stone floor—the sight made Isolde's breath quicken.
"So you've got Cicero at last, almighty Listener," The figure said with a weak laugh. "Go ahead. Kill Cicero, as that Astrid woman ordered you to. I won't fight." A hand reached out from the person's body, sliding a small knife across the floor. Isolde stepped forward slowly, shortening the distance between them to a few mere feet.
"I'm not going to kill you." With that, she sheathed her sword and lifted her dainty hands in a show of peace. They watched each other in wary silence for a moment. Cicero broke the silence with a moan of pain. Isolde immediately ran forward, dropping to her knees at his side. "You're going to be okay. I'll take care of you." She pulled out a small red bottle of health potion, cradling his head in her arms and helping him to drink it. When the bottle was empty, Cicero let out a relieved sigh.
"Why does the Listener let Cicero live? Cicero thought the Listener obeyed Astrid." Isolde looked down into Cicero's curious green eyes. She chewed her lip—a nervous habit she'd had since childhood. Suddenly, a finger touched her mouth. "The Listener is anxious? Cicero has seen that lip-biting before." Isolde laughed quietly.
"Yes, Cicero, I'm quite anxious."
"Cicero is friends with the Listener. The Listener can tell Cicero anything. No need to be anxious." Isolde remained silent. "Are you not talking because you think I'm crazy?" Isolde's eyes widened in surprise.
"You aren't crazy, are you?" Isolde asked. Cicero shook his head, and Isolde sensed a mask coming away from him.
"I'm not crazy. Everyone told me I was, so eventually I just started to act the part they gave me. I decided that it didn't matter whether other people thought I was crazy or not, since all they cared about was my role as the Night Mother's protector." He paused a moment, observing Isolde's face. "But you were always different. From the second I arrived at the Sanctuary, you actually cared about me—me, and not my job."
"Of course I did. I—" Her voice stopped. Cicero gave a small smile, urging her onward. "I… I love you, Cicero." A blush rose on the Dragonborn's cheeks, forcing her to look away. Suddenly, she was pushed backwards, her armor clanging against the stone floor. Her gasp of shock was silenced by Cicero's lips as they met hers in a kiss.
"I've been waiting on you to say that since the day we met." He said, his breath tickling her skin. He kissed her again, once…twice…three times, before pulling away an inch. Both of them were smiling, catching their breath, and Cicero spoke. "Maybe I am crazy after all." Isolde gave him a questioning look, and he kissed the tip of her nose. "Crazy about you."
.
.
.
Wow… so insanely sappy… I'm quite proud of myself;) Reviews welcomed with triple-fudge brownies!