Riften. Cicero likes Riften. Pickpockets and scoundrels and cutthroats abound.
He was in the city of thieves today, doing a job for Mother. He didn't like to leave her side, but he needed a certain person dead. A contract. So simple, simple. And then with the money he would buy Mother some flowers, yes. Pretty, pretty flowers. Deathbells! But deathbells were blue... Hmm. No. No deathbells. Mother needed red!
Cicero skipped through the stands and admired the trinkets. An argonian called out to him.
"Hail, jester! Need some fine jewelry? Good for your ladyfriend!"
Cicero looked at him. "Ladyfriend? Oh no, not for poor Cicero! Cicero only has his Mother, and Mother has no need of jewelry."
He bypassed the shops. Ladyfriend. Cicero? No, poor Cicero lives in Solitude.
Now that was ridiculous. Cicero doesn't live in Solitude. Solitude is a city of rich fancypants who don't like jesters.
Cicero could tell you a few things about living in solitude.
Thieves, thieves. He stepped over the body of a bosmer wearing the familiar buckled cuirass. Stooping down, Cicero took his coinpurse and his dagger.
Skyforge steel! Ooh, sharp, sharp for easy stabbing!
He slipped the dagger around his waist and turned around.
"Madesi, I was wrong. I'd like a necklace. A necklace, with strong chains. Strong, mind you. That won't break, even with a dagger!" Cicero told the shopkeeper.
Madesi pulled out a silver amethyst necklace. "Is this to your liking?"
Cicero shook his head. "Amethyst is purple. Cicero needs red!"
Madesi hissed in thought. "Red, ay? I'm sorry, my friend, but I'm out of garnets. Perhaps in a few days, I'll have a new shipment availa-"
"Madesi!" A voice rang out in the marketplace. A sultry, smooth voice. Cicero perked up. If he was a khajiit, he would have turned an ear.
Khajiit. Was it a khajiit who called out to the argonian?
He didnt look. Madesi was already calling back.
"Dhalia! Just in time! I have a customer requesting garnets! Please tell me you have one!" The lizard asked.
The voice came closer. "Of course, I have everything. I'm sure I have a garnet here somewhere."
Cicero dared a peek. Oh, then he stole a look.
Red, red! Crimson war paint and brickred scars! Oh, and red rosy lips.
The bodied voice turned to Cicero. "Hello, jester! Dance me a jig and I'll forge you a jewel! Fair trade, ay?"
Cicero nodded. Dancing! He loved to dance. The Companions of Jorrvaskr hadn't like poor Cicero's dancing. They'd- well, nevermind.
It was not a khajiit, but a Breton. "Sing, Breton, sing! Cicero needs a tune to dance to!" He spun with his arms out, clearing a space for his dance.
The Breton grinned. "Alright then. Would you let a weary traveler indulge and sing a song about herself?"
"Of course, of course! Cicero likes music. Good for the ears!"
He smiled at the Breton as she let her pack fall to her feet, preparing to sing. And what did she wear! The buckled cuirass of a thief!
The Breton cleared her throat. "You ready, jester?"
"Ooh, yes, yes! Cicero is ready!" His feet itched in anticipation.
She nodded to him. People gathered in the square, watching.
"Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart." She began to sing a familiar song.
Cicero felt the music and let his limbs talk. They swayed and kicked.
"I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes!"
Dragonborn! Cicero'd heard of the dragonborn. Quite admired her.
"With a voice wielding POWER, of the ancient nord arts."
Oh, yes, her voice held such power over Cicero! He loved to hear her sing.
"Believe, believe, the dragonborn comes!"
Cicero believed. But did she believe? In Talos? In the Night Mother? In Nocturnal?
"It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes."
End? To evil? Cicero hoped not. He liked evil. Evil was his job.
"Beware, beware, the dragonborn comes."
Cicero leaped and kicked as he listened, laughing maniacally.
"For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows."
The dragonborn was no legend. She was right there! Silly bards.
"You'll know, you'll know, the dragonborn's come!"
Cicero gave one final leap and did a backflip, landing on top of Madesi's stall.
Everyone applauded. Cicero smiled. He liked being clapped for. No one ever clapped for him when he killed someone. He should dance more.
The dragonborn looked up at him. "Nice dancing, jester! We make a good team!"
Cicero looked at her in surprise. "Team? You and I? You think?"
She laughed. "Sure! That was some fancy footwork there."
Cicero peered at her. Hopping off the cart, he landed with both feet not two inches from the Breton.
She didn't flinch. "If you want your jewelry now, you can take your pick."
Oh yes, the jewelry. Red garnets for a red Mother.
Cicero clapped. "Yay, garnets!"
The dragonborn reached into her pack. She pulled out a selection of rings and lockets, and even a few gems themselves.
Cicero eyed the necklaces. Silver, boring. Gold, boring. Mother didn't need those.
"Boring, boring! Cicero needs red and black! The colors of his Mother, yes!" He cried, distressed.
Madesi and the dragonborn shared a look. A red and black mother.
Madesi mouthed the words "Dark brotherhood" to the Breton.
Her eyes were shining.
Looking back at Cicero, who was pulling at the bells on his hat, she said, "Come with me. I think I know what you need."
Grabbing his hand, she slung her pack over her shoulder and pulled him to the forge. Pulling some metal ingots put of her pack, she showed them to him.
"This is obsidian. It is very rare, and not even heard of in most parts of Skyrim. Black as night, and so strong it could cleave a mammoth in two if made into a sword."
Cicero looked at it. "Can it choke someone if made into a necklace?"
"Oh yes." The dragonborn melted the ingots down at the forge and poured them into the shape of a chain. She poured more into a disc and placed the garnets in them to cool and harden.
Fastening the disc onto the chain, she held it out to him.
Cicero took it gingerly. Such a beautiful piece must be held with utmost care, he thought to himself.
Placing it around his neck, he laughed and danced. "Oh, pretty, pretty! Cicero likes this. Mother will be so pleased!"
The dragonborn laughed. She had a musical laugh. Soft and sweet. Cicero liked it.
"Glad I could be of service. See you around, jester."
She walked off, and Cicero looked up, alarmed.
"Cicero!" He called after her, but whether she heard or not, she didn't look back.
A few feet away, the forgemaster, Balgruuf, looked up from his grindstone. "Her amulet is scratched again. Darn thing's taken a beating. I don't know what she does that it gets so scratched."
"Amulet?" Cicero hadn't noticed an amulet.
"Yeah, her amulet of Mara. Apparently she's unmarried, but with all those suitors she's bound to find someone she likes sooner or later."
Cicero looked at his necklace. Black and red. Not gold and blue, for Mara.
He continued with his contract.
Haelga was his target. A boardinghouse owner, she was unliked by many. Cicero agreed with them.
As he slipped inside the building, he saw a girl sleeping on the floor. Her niece. Stepping over the girl, he continued up the stairs and into Haelga's room. The target was sleeping heavily, easy peasy for Cicero.
He pulled out his steel dagger, and tiptoed up to the bed. Kissing the blade, he plunged it directly into the heart.
Haelga let out an *oomph* before she died. Cicero was disappointed. Not even a scream?
As he left, he heard a sound coming from the marketplace. Deciding to investigate, he crouched down and snuck over.
It was the dragonborn! She was pickpoketing a guard as he stood in front of the well. When he walked off, she silently pocketed the coinpurse she had taken and snuck away.
Following, Cicero watched the dragonborn. Her lithe form was no longer wearing the thieves's guild armor. She was now in full glass, except for her head, which wore a simple wreath of leaves.
She was planning to do heavy battle, then. Of course, with dragons. She was the dragonborn, after all. She slayed dragons!
Oh, Cicero slayed things, too! But not dragons.
He secretly envied the dragons. They encountered this beauty all the time! Cicero was sure he'd never see her again.
She was heading out of the city now. Cicero formed a plan.
But this plan was serious. Cicero wasn't serious. He was a jester. His friend from beyond the Void followed him, laughing in his head.
He prayed to Sithis for the laughter to turn serious. The Unholy Matron would help him, surely. But Cicero didn't want the jester to leave him forever. Just a little bit.
The jester could use a vacation, Cicero mused. His voice probably tired of endless laughing.
What's this? The laughter stopped! He was all silent now!
He put his plan into action.
There were no guards around here this time of night. Curious, but then, this was Riften. The guards were probably after some thief.
He was leaning nonchalantly against the gate of the city. He saw the dragonborn approaching and his heart skipped a beat.
He wanted to skip, but the jester inside his head didn't laugh. He needed to be serious.
"I've never understood thieves." He said out loud, startling the Breton. "Take someone's things BEFORE you kill them? And they call ME crazy…"
The Breton stood up. "Ah, Cicero. Wasn't expecting you here, to be honest."
He grinned. "That's the point. An assassin isn't to be expected, it ruins the surprise!"
She smiled. "I do love surprises."
"Don't we all." His seriousness surprised him.
"Well, assassin, are you here to kill me?" The dragonborn asked.
Cicero widened his eyes. "Kill the dragonborn? I'd be a fool!"
"You are a fool, jester. It's your job." She pointed out, still smiling.
"Oh, yes. I suppose you're right. Nevertheless, I'm not here to kill you."
"Too bad. I could use the practice."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think you would live if I planned to kill you?"
She winked at him. "Jester, I've fought worse than you and lived."
"That a challenge?"
"What if it is?" She asked. "Want to have a go?"
"A brawl?" Cicero asked.
"Yeah. 100 gold." She lifted her fists.
"You're on." Cicero took his stance.
She grinned. "I'll knock the breath out of you, fool."
She threw the first punch. Cicero ducked, then came up strong. She barely avoided his fist, then swung her arm around and clocked him on the back of the head.
He staggered, and she pressed in on him, hammering his chest with throws.
He sidestepped, easily maneuvering behind her. She spun around, but tripped on the ankle he had stuck out.
She tumbled backward, and Cicero caught her in his arms. She looked up at him, and her face… her face was beautiful.
"You win." He whispered.
"What? Neither of us are on the ground bleeding." She frowned.
"You said you would knock the breath out of me. And you did." He said.
She was about to speak, but let her words die in her throat. Cicero gazed down at her, unblinking.
She smiled, standing up. "I don't think that was a fair fight."
Cicero looked at her. "Huh?"
"If I can take your breath away just by looking at you, the odds are clearly stacked in my favor. We'll have to do it again, but this time, I'll wear heavy armor. Should be a suitable handicap for me. I don't normally wear heavy armor."
Cicero nodded. "Alright."
He turned around so that she could change. She called out "Ready!" after a minute and he turned back around-
-and ducked to avoid a crushing blow!
He counterattacked immediately, and she backed up a few steps. Her armor slowed her down, and Cicero caught up to her and punched her arm.
She winced, and threw another shot. Both of them pulled back at the same time, but were unable to go any farther when they heard a *clink*.
Their necklaces had gotten tangled together. His obsidian and garnet piece was entwined with her amulet.
They stood up, pulling towards each other. Cicero wet his lips.
"An amulet of Mara? I'm surprised someone like you isn't spoken for."
She smirked. "Interested in me, are you?"
He grinned. "Hmm, I don't know. I have a thing against thieves. They're too cowardly."
"Cowardly?" She asked, indignant.
"Yes, cowardly." He said. "It means weak, not brave, afrai-"
He was silenced by her mouth on his. She pushed against him, and he encircled her waist with his arms. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he smiled against her lips.
When they pulled apart, she glared at him. "So much for cowardly."
He kissed her forehead. "You're right. I do believe I'm interested."
"Thought so." She smiled at him. "My own fool."
The jester in his head started laughing again.
"My flower." Cicero nuzzled her neck. Dhalia hmm'd.
"Good thing we're in Riften." She whispered against his skin.
Cicero likes Riften. Pickpockets and scoundrels and cutthroats abound. And thieves and priests.