Cicero sighed, "Time, always time." The stars danced against the velvety black of the night sky. "But Cicero is patient," he wrapped his hands behind his head. "Always patient."
Night came quickly in Skyrim during the winter, wrapping the forest in a thin layer of frost. The rock the Jester had found to lay on was no exception; he could feel the chill seeping through his coat to his bones. "Always so icy, icy cold here in the northern land," he hummed to himself. He crossed his right leg over his left, resting his ankle on his bent knee, shaking his foot in time to the tune in his head.
"Hmmmm…" he pursed his lips. "Need to gather flowers for Mother tomorrow. The winter snows are coming and soon there will be no more colorful blooms to decorate her." He groaned as he rolled onto his side. His brow had furrowed into rigid lines, his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth set in a deep frown. "Too quiet," he wrapped his arms around himself. "Always too quiet."
He laid on his side on the rock watching the air pour from his mouth in big white puffs. When his lungs began to burn from the crisp, cold air he finally pushed himself up. "Cicero should check on Mother," he stood from where he had been laying and began to hum the tune that was dancing in his head.
"What is life's greatest illusion?" the large black door breathed its question.
"Innocence," a grin spread across the Keepers face as he answered the question.
The door opened slowly, "Welcome home, brother."
He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands over his arms as he descended the stairs into the Dawnstar Sanctuary.
"Oh, hello, Little One!" Cicero sung when he saw the small vampire sitting on the wooden bench before their Dread Matron. "Come to visit Mother?"
"Nazir wants us to be ready to go soon," the small nord smiled. "We have a new recruit."
Cicero huffed, "The Keeper needs to stay here, tend to Mother." He crossed his arms and pulled his mouth into a pout.
"There are only three of us, including Babette." The Redguard climbed the stairs from the dining area. "And it will take all of us for this recruitment."
"How much trouble can one sibling cause?" Cicero rubbed his chin as he thought.
"Well," Babette stood from the bench. "You almost single handedly took out the whole Sanctuary last week when you saw a mouse near the Night Mother's altar."
"Stinking, sneaking rodents!" Cicero squealed and pulled on his hat. "They would chew on Mother's wrappings, leave her naked for the whole family to see!"
"That being said," Nazir glared at the vampire for bringing up the terror Cicero had rained down on the underground hold. "This recruitment is actually a two for one." He grinned. "We are getting a pair of sisters."
"Oh, sisters!" Cicero nodded in approval. "Cicero longs for a big family, full of brothers and sisters!"
"Then let's go," Nazir made his way to the front room. "We are losing night."
"Yes, yes, yes…" Cicero hummed the tune once more as he followed the other two back into the cold night. "More children for Mother to love."
"Get him, Kir!" the short Breton yelled. "Bash his face in!"
The red-haired brought the back of her fist down against the side of the man's face, breaking his jaw.
"That's right!" her friend clapped from the sidelines. "You've got this!"
The Nord steadied himself before swinging at the girl. She danced nimbly to the side, a wild grin on her face. The man fell forward as he missed and hit air. With a shriek the she brought her elbow down against the back of his head, knocking him out.
"You Imperial bitch!" another Nord yelled as he hopped the rope that marked the sidelines. "I'll not stand to see Sengrid beat by the likes of you!" he swung at her.
She blocked the large man's punch and stepped in close, her face was inches from his. "You wanna dance?" she whispered.
His face turned red with rage as he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her torso he squeezed. He yelled in pain as she bit into his neck, pulling out a chunk of flesh. He fell to the ground beside his companion, blood pouring through his fingers as he tried to apply pressure to his wound.
Kir spit out the mouthful of blood and Nord before dropping to a kneeling position before the shocked man. "If you wanted to feel my body against yours, all you needed to do was ask." She purred before leaning in and licking his nose up to his forehead, leaving a trail of saliva and blood.
"By the gods!" He yelled as he tried to back away. "You're insane!"
"Naw," she rolled her shoulders. "I just bite," her eyes grew wide. "Maybe next time I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," she pulled on her shirt, revealing more of her breasts.
"Tonight's winner!" the tall Dunmer stepped into the ring. "Kirsi the Devourer!" He held up the girls hand as the crowd cheered.
"This is enough septims to get us all the way to Whiterun!" the Breton's face gleamed.
"Good," the Imperial let her head fall back as she sat on the wooden bench. "I need something to eat."
"Well, let's head over to the Bee and Barb," the dark-haired girl stood up.
"Wait, Twyla." Kir drug herself up. "I think I dislocated my shoulder."
"I will fix it when we get back to our room," she paused, waiting for her friend, but froze when she saw the dark look on her face.
"Twyla," Kir's voice was low. "Get behind me."
Without hesitating the Breton hurried back behind her taller companion. "What do you want?" Kir growled through clenched teeth.
"I want the money you owe us." The Nord stood next to his friend with the wrapped head. He flinched as he pulled a knife from under his cloak, the motion aggravating his wound.
Kir grinned, her eyes flashing. "I told you," she held out her hand, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours," her hand glowed light blue as a dagger made from light appeared and solidified in her hand.
"I knew it!" The Nord barked. "Damn magic users!"
"Oh, saw my little trick did you?" Kir chuckled. "What?" she shrugged. "It's just a little Iron Flesh, placed on the perfect points to create maximum impact. The rules say no weapons, nothing about defensive spells."
"You owe us that money," he repeated, glancing at the coin pouch in Twyla's hands. "You cheated."
"I did no such thing," Kir moving into a fighting stance. "And we owe you nothing."
"Kir," Twyla nudged her friend.
"Ready?" Kir smiled.
A smile that matched Kir's spread over Twyla's face.
"See," Kir chuckled. "Here's the thing," she held her hands out. "I am the fighter, but Twyla here's the one you have to keep an eye on. She'll sneak into your room at night and slit your throat." The redhead ducked and rolled forward, while Twyla released an arrow that had been hidden behind Kir. It struck the man with the wrapped jaw in the heart, killing him instantly. As she came up out of her roll Kir stabbed the surprised man up under his ribs with her dagger, piercing his lung. "I, on the other hand, want to see the life drain from your eyes."
"Stupid half-breed bitch!" the Nord wheezed.
Kir's eyes widened in rage, her face going pale. "What did you call me?" she twisted the blade, forcing him to cough up blood.
"I said you're a filthy half-breed," he pressed his nose into her face. "With eyes like those, you'll never hide it."
"Look at these eyes closely," Kir growled, "they're the last thing you'll ever see." In one swift motion she pulled the dagger from his side and slit his throat, blood splattered across her face. The Nord tried to cling to his killer as he slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds.
The light blue dagger in Kirs hand cracked and shattered, vanishing. "Come on, Twy," she rolled her right shoulder, holding it with her left hand. "Let's go get dinner."
"Mmmmhmmm," the Breton agreed happily and hurried to catch up to her friend. "Can we have some pie with dinner tonight?" she asked, her eyes full of hope. "I am starving!"
"That sounds wonderful!" Kir nodded. The pair headed towards the Bee and Barb, leaving the two dead Nords behind the Temple.
"Riften!?" the Keeper squealed in delight. "Cicero likes Riften! Cheats, ruffians, and cutthroats abound!" his voice grew husky as he spoke. "Finally, some fun," he growled.
"No time for games I am afraid, Keeper," Babette took his hand in hers. "We have work to do."
"Oh, yes, yes…" he grinned from ear to ear. "New sisters for the family, new daughters for Mother!" he took the girl's other hand in his and began to twirl her around in a half-hazard waltz.
"Settle down you two," Nazir sighed as he watched the pair dance in the middle of the road. "We are supposed to be inconspicuous."
"Oh, oh yes…" Cicero slowed down the caper. "Sneaking and hiding in plain sight, play my part well, Cicero will!"
"Remember, you need to confirm they are the initiates, nothing more," Nazir eyed the man nervously.
"Don't worry," Babette patted his arm. "I will be with him."
"That worries me more," Nazir chuckled. "I don't know if I can handle anymore insanity than what you two bring to our family."
"We will see, my Dear," Babette smiled, flashing her small fangs.
"Sithis preserve us," the Redguard groaned as they approached the heavily barred gate to Riften.
"Hold it right there!" one of the guards barked. "You have to pay the toll to enter the city!"
"Oh, I see…" Cicero rubbed his chin.
"Papa…" Babette pulled on the sleeve of the Keeper's green tunic. Her eyes were wide and full of fear as she looked up at him. "Why won't the guards let us in? Did we do something wrong?" Her voice was sweet as honey.
"Oh, no, no, no…" The man crooned as he bent down and picked up the girl, holding her lovingly to his chest. "It's okay Dearest Little One."
"I am scared out here in the dark…" the girl raised the pitch of her voice into a wail as she buried her grin into his shoulder.
"Forgive my child," Cicero nodded apologetically. "It is late, the journey was long, she is tired."
"I understand," the guard signaled to his partner. "Got two at home myself, go on in."
"Much obliged, much obliged," Cicero waved as he passed through the stone arch.
"Hey! Darky!" the guards called behind him. He flinched at the use of the racially offensive term, but smiled when he heard Babette stifle a snicker into his chest.
"By the gods, are you serious!?" they heard Nazir bellow. "They didn't have to pay!"
"Yea, well, you ain't them!" the guard yelled back.
Cicero chuckled as he made his way to the local inn.
"Nazir will be furious with us…" Babette grinned.
Cicero only chuckled as he set the child down and took her hand before pushing open the door to the Bee and Barb. The warmth and light from the fire was a heavy contrast to the blistering cold of the night. Even here in Riften, the den of the notorious Thieves Guild, there was laughter and revelry enough to invite even the furthest traveler in. It wasn't long before they noticed two women sitting alone.
"Papa! Papa!" Babette called as she pulled on his hand. "I want to sit at the bar!"
"Alright, alright Dear One," his voice was warm and kind as he followed after the excited girl. "Do you ladies mind if we jooooooiiiiinnnn…" his voice faltered and jumped up a half step when the redhead turned to look at him. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, her cheeks were stuffed with food, and her eyes were indifferent as she took in the sight of the man with his daughter. "…you?" Cicero made a show of pulling Babette protectively to his side.
"We don't mind!" the dark-haired woman's face appeared from behind her friend, her voice cheerful.
"What in Nirn is on your face?" The Keeper asked, trying to look disgusted as he lifted Babette and sat her on a stool.
"Kir won the street brawlers semi-finals tonight!" the Breton spoke again. "She's just dirty from the fights."
"Mmm…" Cicero tried to sound non-committal, but the sound came out too greedy, betraying the growing heat and tightness in his chest as he stared at the red-eyed Imperial.
The woman stopped chewing. Her eyes left Cicero and found their way to Babette, softening when she finally smiled at the girl. Laugh lines gathered around the outside edges of her eyes, making her look older than she had only a moment before, giving away her real age.
"And what's your name, Little Lady?" the woman asked Babette.
"Papa says I can't talk to strangers…" Babette faked shyness, but a smiled stayed on her face.
"Annette," Cicero cut in, his voice soft. He patted the little vampire's shoulder. "It's okay, these ladies are sharing their evening and space with us."
The girl squinted her eyes and leaned forward, pursing her lips. "What is your name?" she stuck out her bottom lip.
"Kir," the woman smiled again. "And this is Twyla."
"Hello!" the Breton waved, as she popped another piece of a baked potato into her mouth.
Cicero sat on the stool next to Babette. "And I am Marcus," he offered a smile, which Kir reluctantly returned.
"Welcome to the Bee and Barb," a raspy voice called his attention to the other side of the bar. "My name is Keerava, what can I get for you tonight?" the Argonian woman smiled, her pointy teeth bared.
Cicero returned her smile, "A baked potato and carrots for myself, and…" he looked at Babette.
"Warm milk, please!" the little nord grinned at the lizard.
"Anything to drink?" she looked to the man.
"No, no, no…" he shook his head. "I am on duty, I, err…" he stammered.
"I understand," the barmaid looked at the girl.
"Miss Kir," Babette pulled on the woman's sleeve.
"Yes?" the woman turned to face the girl, kindness in her eyes.
"You look strong. Do you win lots of fights?" the child's eyes were wide with wonder.
"Oh, that isn't a nice question to ask the Lady," Cicero chuckled.
"Oh, it's okay," she smiled at Babette. "I do, actually, but I lose a lot of them too. It's important to train hard and know your limits."
"Ohhhhhh…" Babette stared in awe. "We traveled from far, far away today… that's sorta like training, right?"
"Traveling is part of training, yes," Kir nodded. "It is important to learn about people from far and wide."
"We are from Dawnstar!" Babette bounced on her stool as the Argonian set their orders in front of them. "Where are you from?"
"Kir is from Windhelm," Twyla offered. "I am from Falkreath."
"But we have traveled all over," Kir took another bite of her own potato.
"Papa, I need to…" Babette made a small motion towards the door.
"Oh," Cicero smiled and chuckled. "This is the problem with raising a daughter with no mother."
"I can take her, if you'd like," Twyla offered. "I understand the frustration of the looks you get as a father taking a girl to the washhouse."
"Oh, would you be so kind?" Cicero helped Babette down from the stool.
"Come on, sweetie," Twyla held out her hand for the girl to take.
Kir and Cicero watched them go.
"Very kind, your friend," Cicero stared at the Imperial sitting before him, his eyes danced with mischief.
"Yea, she is," Kir took another swallow of her ale. "Has a soft spot for kids, that one."
"Your eyes," Cicero purred scooting closer to the woman.
Her face fell, the same dark look that she had when they arrived returned. "They are the eyes of a half-breed, right?" she grumbled.
"Actually, I was going to say they are beautiful," his amber eyes stared at her.
"Oh," she glanced at him, her cheeks burning. "I don't think I have ever been told that before."
He scooted closer. "Perhaps you should have," his voice was dark.
She glared at him. "Just because you caught me off guard doesn't mean I am interested," she turned away, looking back to her food.
He watched her eat, while he pushed his own food around on his plate.
"I like your funny hat!" Babette's voice echoed across the room.
"Who's child is this!?" the Redguard bellowed.
"I am so sorry!" Twyla grabbed her hand and led her back to the bar. "I am sorry, she got away from me," she helped the girl back up onto her stool.
"She is a trouble maker," Cicero patted her head affectionately.
"Papa," the girl yawned. "I am sleepy."
"Alright Small One," he pulled out his coin pouch. "Oh, um… I am afraid after paying for our meal, we won't have enough for a room tonight."
"You can share ours…" Twyla offered.
"Twyla!?" Kir exclaimed.
"What?" she shrugged. "It has two beds. I don't mind sharing with you, if you don't mind."
"We hardly know them!" Kir crossed her arms.
"Yea, but look at her!" she pointed to the small girl. "You can't tell me you'd let her sleep outside on a night this cold."
Kir groaned, "Alright, but on one condition."
"Sure," Twyla winked at Babette.
"You get to sleep on the side closest to them," Kir left a hefty tip on the bar. "I am headed up anyway."
Cicero made a show of tucking the little Nord in. He whispered to her and she whispered back as he nodded in agreement and chuckled. "Sleep well, my Little One." He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
"Story!" she demanded.
"Oh, Papa is tired," he rubbed his eyes. "Not tonight."
"I will tell you one," Twyla sat down on the bed. "Scoot over." She climbed under the blankets next to the child and wrapped her arm around her. "Okay, are you ready?"
Babette nodded.
"This one is about a female warrior who met a chef on the road to Markarth," Twyla fanned her hands in the air.
Cicero joined Kir at the small table in the corner of the room.
"Many thanks for sharing your bed with us," he slid into the chair across from hers, setting a silver cup before her. He poured a dark liquid from an unmarked bottle, filling the cup. "A token of appreciation."
She took it and drank down a swallow. "This is good…" she muttered glancing at the bottle. "What is it?"
"Brandy," he shrugged and poured some for himself.
"It's a really good quality," she drank the rest. When she set the cup down and looked at the man his smile had turned dark, and his eyes wide with anticipation. "What did you…?" She could feel her limbs growing heavy. She stood from the chair, her legs wobbly. "Twyla!" she glanced to the other woman who was already passed out in the bed.
"You should sit down," he hummed as he twirled the drink in his cup. "Won't be long until you are asleep."
"I'll…" she lurched forward. "I'll kill…" she tried to swing at him, but tripped and landed on top of him.
"Oh dear," he caught her and pulled her into his lap. "It has been a long time since Cicero has had a woman so close that wasn't about to die."
Her eyes went wide. "Who…" she struggled as the drug invaded her system, "… are you?"
"You will learn soon enough," he grinned. "Sleep for now sister," he ran a fingertip along her nose. "Sleep well and Cicero will watch over you."
"Cicero…" she breathed, her brow furrowing as her eyes closed.
"Yes, yes, yes…" Cicero sung as he picked her up and carried her to the empty bed. "Sleep for now sister, Cicero will see you when you wake." He gently placed her under the blankets. "See you and your Dunmer eyes."