Author's Note-Introduction: Hello all! After countless hours spent playing, I've concluded that Skyrim has to be my absolute favorite game ever! I've really grown to love the Dark Brotherhood quest line and all it entails-especially a certain psychotic jester. I've been interested in fanfiction for quite a while. I've read plenty, but only recently had I wanted to write one of my own. This is my own personal take on the DB storyline and beyond. So here goes...May I invite you to come along on this journey of darkness, betrayal, and everyone's favorite giggling homicidal maniac! Thanks to all who read and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: Humble Stranger
Ava sighed as she trudged along the beaten path, fingers and toes numb from the harsh climate. Dark clouds loomed overhead as an icy drizzle fell from above. She walked alone-completely alone. A tragic event had forced her to live like this-which initially left her self-loathing and depressed. She felt plenty of fear too-she was only a girl when it happened. As a grown woman, solitude had became her friend-her constant companion, and she even began to prefer being alone. Ever since that fateful night over a decade ago... That was the past though, and she liked to push that from her mind. She needed to worry about finding a place to stay, and preferrably sooner than later.
Ava had been wandering Skyrim for years now...she didn't have a place to call home-not that she minded. Things were easier that way. She never had to get close to people. It wasn't that she disliked others-she just didn't trust them. Besides, being a social butterfly wasn't her strong point. She wasn't really rude or hateful spirited...just a bit quiet and awkward, and avoiding people seemed to make her life a lot easier.
It was mid-day, but the gloomy weather made it seem much later. The beautifully rugged landscape was covered in a thick fog. Ava could see what appeared to be a farmhouse in the distance. She picked up her pace, hoping maybe the owner would be kind enough to let her stay under a shed and wait out the ever increasing rain.
The closer the farm appeared, the more came into her view. She spotted a horse, a carriage, and a man-just standing in the rain. Upon closer inspection she noticed the carriage was damaged, the front wheel laying a few feet from it. The man himself was quite peculiar. She could see his arms flailing wildy in an angry manner, and he appeared to be loudly ranting to himself.
Ava kept up the pace until she was only a few feet behind him. She figured he must've been stranded quite a while, because his clothes were completely drenched. His attire was rather...unusual. He was dressed in what appeared to be a black and red jester's motley, and his hair was crimson to match it. The wrinkles on his furrowed brow and corners of his eyes showed that he was a bit older than she was. He continued growling and cursing to himself, giving her an uneasy feeling. She wondered if it would be wise to approach such a man.
"OOOOOOOOHHH...DAMNDEST...WAGON WHEEL! CURSES to that smug... LORIEUS!" the man shouted, stomping his foot in the mud and clenching his fists. The man began to whimper and wail, "OH...poor POOR MOTHER...What did poor Cicero DO to deserve such FOUL treatment?!"
Ava was a bit apprehensive about helping this fellow. She thought of strolling silently by while he was too busy fretting over the problem at hand to notice her. It wasn't her problem anyway. She took a few quiet steps by him...hearing him mumble sadly to himself...then whimper again...
She couldn't walk away, and she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was his strange appearance (she figured a man like that certainly had to be a misfit), or his pitiful cries; Whatever it was, she felt compelled to help the poor fellow. Something about his situation felt almost...comforting to her, as if this man felt as helpless as she often did.
Feeling a bit nervous, Ava took in a breath, "D-do you need some help?" she said, feeling a little embarrassed at how timidly her voice came out.
The strange man whipped around, his wide eyes meeting hers. He stared at her silently, as if he was confused or in some sort of trance. Ava took a step back, wondering if she'd made a mistake by speaking to him. His expression then changed from a blank stare to a pitiful frown.
"Cicero is...stranded. His wagon wheel...DREADFUL WAGONWHEEL...it BROKE! Cicero would fix it if he could...but TOOLS he has NOT! Oh if Cicero could just WISH it back on, how he would THINK and THINK until his brain bled out his POOR EARS...and mother...OH Cicero's poor POOR MOTHER! Cicero needs to take her to her new HOME...her SANCTUARY...OH but here she IS! As STRANDED as poor Cicero..." He pleaded, rubbing the large crate that set in the wagon.
Ava noticed that this Cicero fellow was the only person she saw, even though he kept referring to his mother. She could only figure that his mother had passed away recently, and was the one who he was transporting. She felt a wave of pity run through her, "Is that your mother?" She asked, pointing to the crate.
"OH YES!" Cicero beamed, turning his head back to gaze upon the crate. "She is here with US as we speak! Oh, but SHE doesn't speak...no...she remains ever so SILENT! YES! Her dead lips sealed ever so tightly!" He paused briefly, then his face twisted angrily as he glared at the farmhouse on the hill above them. "Cicero tried asking Lorieus...many MANY times for his help...but NO! HATEFUL, SPITEFUL Lorieus REFUSES!"
"Well...maybe I could try talking to Lorieus for you, " Ava suggested. She hoped she could change this Lorieus fellow's mind, as he seemed to have it already made up.
"Oh? Oh...YOU WILL! Yes..YES! Maybe he will LISTEN to YOU! OH, Thank you, THANK YOU!" Cicero clasped both hands together in a grovelling manner. His over-exaggeration nearly made her smirk.
Ava walked the winding path up the hill and to the front door. She took a deep breath, then knocked. She figured she'd be met by a less-than-happy man, seeing as though he'd already refused to help multiple times. The door swung open and a short, balding man stood facing her with a frustrated look on his face.
"Listen, if this is about that Cicero guy... Look, he's been here all day long asking me for help over and over! Even offered me coin! I've already told him no five times! I mean, look at the creep! He's been telling me he's taking his mother off to be buried or something...I...I just don't believe it. I mean who does that...travels around with a corpse? I don't buy it! He's probably transporting skooma! I'm not getting mixed up in all that!"
Lorieus began to shut the door in Ava's face, when she suddenly pushed it back. "WAIT! Please...just listen to me a moment. I...think he's telling the truth." Ava just couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to help Cicero. However strange or annoying he may have seemed to Lorieus, he didn't deserve to be left to freeze all night in the rain. "Look, he said his mother is deceased and he just needs to be on his way. He needs your help, and it's freezing out here. He doesn't have anywhere to go..."
The stern look on Lorieus's face softened as he paused, rubbing his chin. "I...guess if you put it that way...it is a little cold of me to deny a man help like that. What he does is his business, not mine. Tell Cicero it'll be a few minutes. I'm gonna gather my tools," he said shutting the door.
Ava turned away from the door, feeling rather relieved that she could help. The only problem was that now she had no help. She figured it wouldn't be a wise idea to ask for shelter from Lorieus-he was hard enough to convince as it was. She feared that asking now would anger him to the point of not helping Cicero or herself. She was on the path that led to the city of Whiterun, so if she just travelled quickly she'd be there soon enough. She could just stay at the Bannered Mare once she arrived.
Cicero watched, fidgeting hopefully as the young woman walked calmly back down the path. She now stood in front of him with a small, but warm, smile on her face. " I spoke to Lorieus for you. He said he's getting his tools to help you, so it will be a few minutes."
Cicero felt his heart climb back out of where it had previously dropped, "He...he changed his MIND?! Oh, OH! You...yes...you HELPED poor Cicero! SAVED him from the BITTER COLD you did! Hehehehe...Oh, and MOTHER! She will be so HAPPY to find rest! Cicero THANKS you kind, KIND stranger..." he trailed off a moment turning his gaze back to the crate beside him. His lips curled into an odd, almost sinister looking smile, " but more importantly...my MOTHER thanks you..."
He looked back to the young woman, who still had a slight smile on her face. She had been looking down at her feet as she listened to him. He sensed that she was perhaps shy in some way, as she didn't hold eye contact with him very long. She glanced up at him, "You're welcome..." She studdied the road leading to the city of Whiterun. "Well...I guess I better be on my way, " she nodded briefly at him and began briskly walking away. Cicero frowned as the young woman bounded off.
"WAIT!" Cicero shouted, waving his arms wildy motioning her to come back. As she approached, he held out a coin purse. "Cicero doesn't want to forget to PAY you for your trouble!" She hesitantly accepted the payment, which Cicero found rather...odd. How does one nearly refuse coin? Does the poor thing not know the value of such? Surely this wasn't so!
"Thanks. Well, you have a safe trip," she began back down the path, only glancing back at him briefly with a smile still on her face.
Yes, she smiled. Cicero couldn't remember the last time he saw that type of smile, if ever. It wasn't the menacing kind like that of an enemy, or like the snide smirks he'd often encounter when someone caught sight of him. No, it was kind and warm. It was...beautiful. Now that Cicero thought of it, she was beautiful. Could it be that poor Cicero was so distressed that he didn't take notice? He watched her slim figure walking in the distance, her long black hair hung just to the small of her back. She was small-a little shorter than Cicero. He thought of her face...her dark blue eyes and pale skin. She was an Imperial like him-a much younger, prettier one. Surely the prettiest Cicero had ever seen! And such a kind, humble stranger to help poor foolish Cicero! It was simply a pity that poor lonely Cicero would probably never see her again...