Sundas 5 Sun's Dawn, 4E 202 5:30 PM

Somehow I beat the storm back to Whiterun. A light winter breeze sprang up as I left my horse at the local stables. This meant I was only slightly chilled instead of frozen to the bone, but I was starting to regret leaving my dragon scale armor on the roadside. Although I had been overheated and sweaty in the mail, it had served me well and I had no fear of freezing.

I mentally shrugged as I tossed the stable boy a septim to take care of my mare. Divines knew I had enough material from the dozens of dragons I had slayed in the last six months to make several more complete sets of armor if the mood struck me. Adrianne Avenicci, blacksmith and neighbor, was always generous with her forge and had promised me that I could use it whenever the mood struck.

As I walked up the hill to the gates, I found myself humming. I released my waist length black hair from the multiple braids I kept wrapped around my head. The weight removed felt good and I liked how the breeze pulled the locks back as I walked.

It felt right to be back in Whiterun. I had only been gone for about two weeks after flying off on the red dragon Odahviing to go to Sovngarde and battle Alduin for the souls of the mortals held there. It was strange to realize that only a handful of people knew of my most recent mission. Life had gone on here as it always had, no one wiser knowing that the fate of mortals was being fought.

"Welcome home, Dragonborn," one of the guards hailed me as I neared.

"Thank you," I said hesitating. I never could tell which guard was which behind their face-concealing helms.

"Anything we can do for you, Dragonborn?" the other guard asked. I never lingered at the gates. Normally I was already halfway through before they could give me greeting.

"There's a traveler near the Loreius farm," I said gesturing north, "about an hour from here. His wagon broke and he's stranded. I was hoping we could send a guard to help him."

"I'm sorry, Dragonborn," the first guard said shifting nervously. Many of the residents had seen me use the thu'um around Whiterun and it made them nervous. People were scared that I would turn the Voice against them like Ulfric Stormcloak had done to High King Torygg. It was a common reaction to my power and it constantly aggravated me. "Our men are stretched too thin as it is. We have no one available."

"What if I ordered as thane?" I threatened. I could feel the thu'um building behind my voice as my irritation grew. I would have to be careful or a guard would get blasted off his feet. The instability of the thu'um was something I had struggled to keep hidden as long as possible. If people were afraid thinking I had mastery over it, how would they react when they found out I couldn't control it?

"We would obey, Dragonborn, but we are required to keep two men at the gates at all times. Someone would have to send to Dragonsreach for reinforcements before anything could be done." I could feel my right eye twitching. Was it really necessary to address me as Dragonborn in every sentence? I hated how people only saw the title and not the person. "Besides, that far north is outside our jurisdiction. Why didn't the traveler ask Loreius?"

"He did!" I snapped. I could feel the earth tremble around me as I spoke. The two guards stepped back warily, wondering what had caused the disruption. I drew in a deep breath, calming myself. I stepped through the gate quickly before I said something I would regret. Inadvertently using fus ro dah on a gate guard would not do well for my reputation.

Adrianne Avenicci was working at her forge as I walked by. Her long dirty blonde hair was pulled back into its usual braid and dripping with sweat. All day, every day she worked the forges trying to hone her skill enough to be recognized as a master smith. I wondered if she was still trying to fill the never-ending large shipment of blades for the Battle-Born family, a local family who supported the Empire, for the impending civil war.

"Diana, you look angry," she remarked, wiping her face with a clean cloth. "Another bandit raid giving you trouble?" There had been more than one occasion when I had slinked home licking my wounds from a failed attempt to clear a bandit den.

"No," I managed to murmur. Adrianne and I had had many conversations since I had moved to Whiterun. She was used to my tendency to pitch my voice low if I was upset or irritated, which was more often than I cared for. "Stupid guards can't spend a few hours to help a stranger get his wagon fixed. Wheel fell off so he's stranded near a farm an hour north of here."

The Imperial woman smiled. "Wouldn't it make more sense to ask someone whose work would be more appropriate for fixing things? Maybe a…blacksmith?" She laughed as my jaw dropped open.

"Divines label me as a fool," I muttered as I slapped myself on the forehead. "I didn't even think."

"Don't worry about it," Adrianne wiped her hands on her cloth. "I was just about to take a break. I'll send Ulfberth with a temporary wheel, have them come back here, and work on it personally." Ulfberth was her husband, a huge bear of a man who tended the counter of their business, Warmaiden's.

"Will it be a problem that Cicero is in Pale territory?" I asked. Now that I knew it was in another hold, I didn't want Ulfberth to go all that way for nothing.

"I doubt anyone will complain," Adrianne said. "If he didn't come back to me, he would have to go up to Dawnstar for repairs."

"I don't think Cicero would want that. His wagon was pointed south when I found him," I said. Which was a bit strange if he was coming from Cyrodiil, which was south of Skyrim. Why would Cicero be north traveling south? He probably just got lost. Divines knew I had taken many wrong turns during my travels.

As I glanced to the stormy skies, Adrianne said, "Don't worry about the clouds. It always looks like that during the winter months. Skyrim cannot seem to get enough of rain or snow it seems. It looks more like rain than snow and I doubt it will start before nightfall and probably not even until late into the night. Plenty of time for my husband to be back with your friend."

"Thank you, Adrianne," I smiled. "Feel free to add a generous tip to my tab for your work."

"I wouldn't say 'no' to any of that dragon bone you had squirreled away," she said hopefully. Making even a simple helmet of dragon bone would finally set Adrianne apart from Eorlund Gray-Mane as a master smith. I had seen her enviously watching me as I had worked the forge for my own armor in the past.

"How about you just charge me whatever you charge Cicero?" I countered. Despite my impetuous decision to discard my armor, I felt a personal bond with the bones and scales I had harvested. It didn't feel right to let anyone use them. I started to turn away, but paused, "Oh, by the way, he's a bit…odd."

Adrianne nodded acknowledgement as she disappeared into Warmaiden's.

I followed suit and went next door to Breezehome, my residence in Whiterun. I threw open the door and yelled, "Lydia, I'm home! Where's my supper, woman?"

Lydia and I were polar opposites. She was a tall Nord warrior who preferred to wade into battle with her steel armor and axe while I preferred to stay as far away as possible with my bow. She was quiet and serious while I was loud and carefree. Fighting together, side by side, had turned a mere association into friendship.

Despite her long suffering tone at times, Lydia was probably the only friend I had in all of Skyrim other than Adrianne. I had no illusions that our association started because she was assigned as my personal bodyguard by Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, but over time I had come to depend on her service. She helped make Breezehome into a home and not just a house to place my things when I was traveling.

We had been inseperable.

At least until this last mission. Odahviing had refused to take anyone other than me to fight Alduin and I had been forced to leave Lydia behind. I had missed her terribly, but part of me understood it was better she hadn't come. No mortal was intended to see heaven before their time and I would never have forgiven myself if Alduin had devoured her soul.

"My thane?" Lydia was standing at the top of the stairs, staring at me as if seeing a ghost. Neither of us had expected for me to return alive.

Suddenly, the house thundered as the Nord barreled down the steps. She grabbed me in a bear hug and swung me around, laughing merrily. "My thane! You're back. Oh, by Shor, I can't believe it. Tell me what happened while you were gone."

My laughter mingled with hers as Lydia set me back down. "Not right now, okay? I'm pretty tired and it was pretty hellish."

"Let me go inform Jarl Balgruuf that you've returned at least. He's going to want to see you," Lydia insisted.

"Okay, but make it clear that I won't give an audience until tomorrow," I said sternly. "I'm tired and I want to rest. I'm sure we don't have to remind Balgruuf how unpleasant a cranky Dragonborn is."

"Farengar is going to have a thousand questions," Lydia chuckled. I groaned at the thought. The man was obsessed with dragons.

"Gods, don't let him know. I don't want him harassing me all night. Then get your butt back here and make me dinner," I mock scowled. "I gave you one thing to do while I was gone. Just one thing!"

"As you wish," Lydia smiled. She hugged me again before running out the door. "It's good to have you home."


Sundas 5 Sun's Dawn, 4E 202 9:00 PM

I was lounging in a bed gown on my bed reading The Locked Room enjoying the aftereffects of the hot bath Lydia had graciously drawn for me. My muscles felt relaxed for what seemed like the first time since I had arrived in Skyrim. My damp hair smelt pleasantly like the lavender oil Lydia had used to wash me. Downstairs, I could hear her moving around as she made a late dinner for me. The mouthwatering smells of stew drifted up, distracting me from my book. I could practically taste the fresh, hot bread I would dip into the stew. Most of my meals the last week had been cold, dry tasteless traveling tack.

I was absorbed in Yana's frantic attempt to leave the locked room with the vampire, when the knock on the front door came. I stifled a scream as I jolted into a sitting position. Who would be visiting at this hour? I thought with my heart pounding in my throat.

"I will answer it, my thane," Lydia called. Knocking could be heard from the door again, this time as the opening notes of The Age of Aggression. "Hello, how may I help you?"

"You're not Diana," a shrill man's voice accused, "You're not Diana at all."

A few moments later, Lydia poked her head through the doorway. "My thane, you have a visitor. Should I send him away?"

"No, Lydia," I placed a bookmark in my book. I would have to wait until later to see what Yana's fate would be. "Let me change clothes and I'll be down shortly."

A few minutes later, I descended the stairs wearing a simple blue dress in the local Nordic style. Lydia was warily watching Cicero as he stood over the kettle of stew. He tasted from a ladle while tapping his right foot impatiently.

"He just helped himself," Lydia muttered low enough for only me to hear as I walked past her.

"Ah, there you are!" Cicero said happily as he replaced the soup ladle. "If Cicero had known Diana was hiding, he would have looked harder for her." He laughed loudly. Lydia winced at the sound. Nords are generally a somber lot and only became rowdy during great celebrations or after much drinking. Cicero bounced towards me, dancing in a circle. "Diana told Cicero to visit if he came to Whiterun and look where Cicero is. Helpful smith brought Cicero here and then just as helpful showed Cicero where to go."

"Adrianne is a good person like that," I stammered. His constant movement was making me a bit dizzy again.

Suddenly, Cicero's hands were in mine and he was whirling me around the fire pit. I was his dance partner to a song only he could hear. I stumbled, my feet feeling large and clumsy. I had never learned how to dance and his fast, smooth steps turned me about like a puppet on a string. The tension in his voice and body were gone and replaced with high elation. I supposed that finally getting help had made him giddy. His right hand wrapped around my waist as his left held my right hand high leading me to his silent waltz.

"I know I have been a great bother to you already," he smiled down at me, his voice smooth and even for a change. Divines, he was tall. I had not noticed the first time we met. Hunched over in frustration and probably fear he had appeared closer to my height. Now I could see that he was more than a hand's breadth taller than I. "But Cicero must ask another favor. The blacksmith was unable to work on the wagon as it is dark. Humble Cicero does not want to leave his poor Mother alone, all alone, in a strange city. Mayhap poor Cicero may sleep by your fire so he may be close to his mother?"

I managed to disentangle myself from his grasp. He let me go easily enough, but the merriment in his eyes felt a bit like a cat playing with her prey. As if he was letting me go so he could catch me again later. "Nonsense," I straightened my clothes, turning my face down to hide my blush. "You're more than welcome to stay, but I insist you use my housecarl's bed." I ignored Lydia's indignant gasp. "Lydia can share my bed tonight. It's big enough for the two of us."

"As you wish, my thane. Let me move some of my things, then," Lydia huffed as she stomped up the stairs. "Anything you want, my thane. I am sworn to carry your burdens, my thane." The sarcasm was especially thick on the last word.

"Oooh, is she a special friend?" Cicero twitched his eyebrows suggestively. He held up one hand with his pinky hooked.

"No, no," I laughed trying to imagine Lydia that way and failing. "She's my housecarl. She helps take care of me. Lydia keeps me safe."

"Cicero understands this," the jester nodded wisely crossing his arms. "Yes, yes, keeping is very important."


Morndas 6 Sun's Dawn 4E 202 Midnight

"I don't know why you're grumbling," I said as I slid into the bed with Lydia. "We've slept back to back many a night on the ground. What's wrong with sharing a bed? I should be the one complaining. You snore."

We had stayed up late, Cicero and I sharing stories of Cyrodiil. Although I had met several Imperials since coming to Skyrim, most of them had lived here for quite a while. It was pleasant to talk to another countryman about our home, gossiping about recent events.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact I could be sleeping in my own bed. Shor forbid I would expect such an outlandish idea." I could practically hear her roll her eyes in the dark. "Or the fact you've let a complete stranger stay in our home who is probably completely insane." Lydia rolled over so she was facing me. "May I speak bluntly, my friend?"

"Always." Lydia must have been feeling particularly serious to address me as friend rather than thane.

"You take too many burdens of strangers upon yourself. I have seen you time and time again go out of your way to assist someone you met moments before. You give yourself completely to someone who has no claim on you and it leaves you too spread thin to give yourself to someone who might have a long term claim on your heart and soul.

"Like this Cicero fellow. There are many who would have passed him by, not giving him a glance. Some may have stopped and tried to repair the wagon. Maybe even a few would have alerted Adrianne. But you, you do everything you could to not only assist him, you invite him into your home. The Bannered Mare isn't that far into the Wind district and no one would dare to mess with Warmaiden's." Lydia signed and rolled back over so her back was to me. "At least I can rest knowing he won't try to crawl into your bed to molest you. Not that you would mind since you obviously enjoyed his flirting all night long."

Had he been flirting with me? I had taken his exuberance as simply as part of his personality. I knew I was a good looking woman and had my fair share of lovers over the years. I was no longer a young maid, but a mature woman of thirty-one. I was a fairly good diplomat and could read others well. Surely, I wouldn't have missed the signals. "Divines, when was the last time I bedded someone?" I thought out loud.

"Don't get any ideas," Lydia half-warned, half-teased as she rolled over to fall asleep. "You'll probably regret it."


Morndas 6 Sun's Dawn 4E 202 3:00 AM

I awoke to the sound of the house shuttering. For a moment I was confused. I had been dreaming of dragons, gods, and disapproving ancient Nordic heroes. I had dreamed of Sovngarde a lot lately, but it was always jumbled images. I refused to let the memory linger as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

Adrianne had been right in the rain holding off. It still had not rained, but the winds were picking up. Rain would be here soon. To my left, Lydia snored lightly. I quietly slid out of the cozy bed, immediately missing the warmth. Bare toes on the wooden floor sent chills up my legs.

I pulled a spare blanket from the dresser and draped it over my shoulders. Silently, I slipped out of the bedroom. Downstairs, the fire had burned low, but enough flame remained to throw shadows on the walls. Cicero's jester profile danced on wall as I descended. He was humming a tune quietly to himself as he prodded the embers.

"You're still up?" I asked sleepily. Why was he still fully dressed?

"Cicero doesn't sleep much," he admitted casually. "Nights are the worst. The silence can be…maddening." His eyes became distant lost in some memory. He shook his head, returning to the present, laughing nervously. "Why are you awake?"

"Thirsty," I answered as I rummaged the cabinet. "I thought I would warm some milk to help me to back to sleep. Would you like some?" He refused, so I prepared a small kettle to place on the fire. I sat next to him on the bench, shivering from the cold. Cicero slid over so he was pleasantly pressed against me.

"Cold?" he asked as he draped his left arm over my shoulders. When I didn't protest, he slid his arm down to encircle my waist pulling me closer. Heat emitted from his body. I wasn't sure if it was from being close to the fire or a natural body heat, but I liked it. His lopsided grin grew wider once again reminding me of a smirking cat.

His right hand gently grasped my chin, nudging my gaze up until I was looking directly into his amber eyes. He kept eye contact as he leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Even then he kept his eyes open. It was strangely fascinating. All my previous experiences had men who looked at some distant point over my shoulder or women who closed their eyes as tightly as possible. Despite my best efforts, I found my own eyes fluttering closed with pleasure as his lips touched mine experimentally. When I opened my eyes again, he was still watching me with his private smile.

"It's been a long time," Cicero confessed. "A very, very looong time." The hunger in his voice made me shiver. I hated when Lydia is right.

I didn't trust my voice, not with my heart thudding so loudly. It had been too long since I was just a woman. All of my interactions lately had been that of a warrior, a thane, or Dragonborn. I pushed the blanket off my shoulders and leaned forward to kiss Cicero again.

He chuckled lowly, pleased at my response. Grasping my waist, he pulled me to him as he pushed the bench away from us. The loud clatter made me wince. I worried that Lydia would waken from the noise and come to investigate. Before I could voice a concern, Cicero pushed me to the floor.

His gloved hands fiddled with my night gown. "Clothes are in the way," he observed lazily. Pulling an ebony dagger from his belt, he smoothly cut a line down my front making my clothes part like butter. Still holding the blade in his right hand, he pulled his glove from his left hand using his teeth. Cicero slid his bare hand between the folds of my ruined gown to caress my skin. Goosebumps sprung all along my skin, whether from his touch or the cold I had no idea.

Confident hands ran over my body, squeezing and massaging with the skill of an expert. His lips crashed against mine again, traveling down my neck. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. I could feel that he was reacting just as strongly as I was which made me even more aroused. I managed to undo the bindings on his jerkin to reveal muscles hidden by the jester's outfit. Cicero wasn't as bulky or muscular as most men, but there was a seasoned leanness to his form. His breath was hot on my ear as he nibbled my lobe.

Divines, this was him out of practice?

Suddenly, Cicero's weight was gone and I was left alone on the cold floor. "What was that?" he barked. Thunder rumbled outside and the wall shook from the wind.

"It's just the storm." I sat up, pulling the halves of my gown together with one hand. Lightning lit the dark room as the rain finally began to fall, a heavy torrent.

"Mother!" Cicero ran outside, jerkin still open and one glove on. The door was left open letting a blast of cold air into the house.

Grabbing my blanket and drawing it back around me, I ran after him. "What the hell…?" I muttered as I watched the red haired man run towards Warmaiden's. Despite the heavy rain, I could make out the silhouette of his wagon in front of the smithy. He darted back and forth frantically securing the waterproof tarp he had left over the crate that contained his mother's coffin. Even so, corners of the tarp fluttered in the wind.

Sprinting back, Cicero retied his jerkin and pushed past me back into Breezehome. He retrieved his discarded glove and dagger. He danced about like an overexcited puppy, all grace gone. "Cicero must go. Cicero must take care of Mother."

"It's just a body," I said softly. "Your mother is gone to the Divines."

The look he gave me was murderous. The dagger hovered in his hand for a second too long before sheathing it. "You don't understand," he growled. "No one ever understands. Only loyal Cicero understands." He pushed past me without another word.

I stood wordlessly for a moment trying to catch up with the fact two minutes ago I was on the floor with a half-naked man on top of me and now I was chilled to the bone and sexually frustrated.

"I really hate it when Lydia is right," I grumbled. If that fool wanted to sleep outside in the cold, wet mud that was his decision.

After a quick clean up, I trudged back upstairs. Weary, I climbed into the bed next to Lydia. At least I could rest easy knowing Lydia had slept through the whole ordeal.

"Slut," Lydia said with her dry humorous tone.

"Shut up!" I said, kicking her out of the bed.