A/N: This is more or less a story I want to put time into, depending on the feedback I get from friends and various reviewers. Basically an easy link to provide to friends. Wanna see how people feel about a male dovahkiin and Cicero verses the usual overly sexy female characters. Smut possible in later chapters if received well, or maybe just forever dancing around longing and lust. Donno yet, I guess we'll see. :)

He stood with his back stiff against the cold rock floor, his mind collapsing upon itself. His breath was erratic and his body shook from the fear that crept into his mind and grasped the minuscule amount of sanity he had left. This Dovahkiin, the Listener, could very well end his life. That wasn't the issue. No one else, only little Cicero, could give the Mother the care she needed, the care she deserved. Cicero was a good Keeper, he did as he was told, and now the Listener was just outside the door in their Sanctuary. It was Cicero's and Night Mothers, not Astrid's and her new ways. They were not the Mother's ways. They were bad. They were wrong. They hurt poor Cicero's loyal mind. Cicero hurt her little mutt, Cicero hurt her. Cicero tried to teach that treacherous Astrid a lesson, he was only trying to save the Brotherhood. A good Keeper, Cicero did well. But the Listener still came for him! Mother's chosen one. Surely he would not betray her by killing her dear sweet Cicero.

Then he came in, the Listener. Sturdy and unshaken by the defenses the guardians offered. It was clear why the Listener had been chosen by the Night Mother, and why the Divines had chosen him to be the Dovahkiin. The hardened face stared fearlessly at Cicero, causing him to shiver. "You caught me! I surrender!" Cicero whizzed from behind his broken lips, why was this so funny? Poor Cicero is about to die, but it's funny! Laughing Laughing Laughing. But the face above him was unchanging, unmoved by the laughter.

"You wouldn't kill poor Cicero, would you?" He went on. Why, he did not know. The Listener was Mother's, and she chose him. The Listener would carry out Mother's wishes. Mother loved Cicero. Cicero hopes Mother loves him. Cicero tries hard to please Mother. She has been kind to him. Mother didn't change her mind, did she? Did she? Mother, do you still love Cicero?

The Listener extended his rough hand that glowed with a bright light and covered Cicero in a warming light. This wasn't the normal destruction spell. This was different from the mage fire that killed the last Listener. After a few moments, the Listener's hand ceased its glowing and he stepped away from Cicero's prone body. Was he trying to help Cicero? It was almost a shame that his help was in vain as Cicero had oh so cleverly fake his injury. Clever Cicero had set up a trap to trick Listener if he dared attack him, but, no, Listener not only spared him, but tried to help. Without so much as a word, the stone faced man just turned and walked out with the light steps of an assassin. Cicero sat, completely void of any reasoning for what just occurred, and it was worse that the Listener offered no explanation. The others in this sect of the Brotherhood loved to talk, they seemed so happy to just share their life stories with anyone that passed by. Talking, talking, talking, and more talking. It was frustrating! But, the Listener, he was Silent! Nothing revealing ever came from him. He was puzzling, mysterious, and it was just as frustration as the others who just constantly spewed obnoxious sound from their lips! Quiet. It was quiet again. Oh how Cicero hated the silence. Alone again. Solitude. Darkness. Cold. But he hated the constant sound also. What was worse? Noise or silence? Silence or noise? How much more of this was there to come? Even poor little Cicero could feel that something was about to happen to the Brotherhood, would Mother survive this?! Cicero couldn't get to Mother now, not with his life. Bad Cicero, having left Night Mother without her Keeper. Bad Bad Bad. Who would keep Mother's body from decay while Cicero was in here? Self-pity swept over him and he rolled on the floor in worry of his dear Mother.

Cicero needed to go back, and soon.