Note: If you're not into reading death and murder, then this chapter isn't for you. It's not too graphic. Just a bit of bloody elements. Then again, this entire story is going to be full of bloody elements. Either way, I hope you enjoy. I apologize if this chapter is too short, but time was short today and I wanted to update it. Let me know if Cicero is written out well! To be honest, it was kind of a challenge for me.
Also. Lucien won't be in the story for a couple more chapters. So for now, enjoy Cicero and his wacky dances.
Child of Sithis
Annabella had just left Whiterun and felt so incredibly confident, but then she remembered she wasn't familiar with Skyrim. Where was Windhelm? Where was Riften? Where was that College of Winterhold she heard so much about? She could have gone back and asked the guards, but that would take too long and, frankly, she was quite lazy at the moment and didn't wish to repeat her steps. Perhaps she'd find someone on the way further down the road who would assist her need of directions.
And there was her guardian angel right there. Well perhaps a man dressed in a jester suit wasn't a true guardian angel, but he'd have to do. He looked friendly enough.. but wait. Was he having troubles? Maybe she shouldn't even bother herself asking.. probably just head back an-
"Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"
Shit. She'd feel too bad leaving him stuck out here. But he was already looking at her with puppy-dog eyes that she.. she couldn't do it.
"Did you need me to help you with your wagon, sir?"
"Sir? Ohohohoho. It's been a long time since someone was so formal with Cicero." He stared the Breton down for only a moment, unmoving, but it felt like hours. He made her slightly uncomfortable.
"Um. Okay. Well. Just let me have a look at-"
"No, no, no! Go to the farm - the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won't! He refuses!" He reached out and grabbed her pale hands, patting them softly. "Wouldn't want the pretty lady doing work like that all by herself, now would we?"
She pulled her hand back, glaring at the Imperial and growling under her breath. "I'm not sure.. I really have to get going now that I think about it. You see, I'm going to-"
"Cicero will pay you with gleamy, shiny coin!" That was all it took.
"Done. But you have to promise me one thing."
"What would the kindly Breton ask of Cicero?"
"Don't ever interrupt me again. You've done that two times already."
The jester let out the most obnoxious laugh she'd ever heard and decided right then and there that she'd dig a hole and plant her head in it if he continued on for too long.
"Oh, miss Breton! I will try my best. Now go. Ask Loreius. He needs to..." The wheel on the other side of the wagon made the most horrible noise before popping right off the hinge, almost as if it was screaming from the weight of the large box. No wonder the other wagon wheel popped off. "Damnedest wagon wheel!"
She didn't know why she cared so much about this jester's poor mother, but she felt something tugging her towards the large box as it began to slide off of the wagon. In her haste, she almost knocked Cicero down to reach the wagon, her entire weight pressed up against the box to keep it from falling. Just as she was about to be crushed under the weight of it, she felt strong arms grabbing her waist and setting her safely on the ground.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Ah. A guard.
"I am, sir." She looked at the box that was now being held up by Cicero. How he had mustered up the strength to hold something that weighed at least three times as herself, she had no idea. It was impressive really. That impressiveness was short lived when he spoke.
"Oh! Kind guard would help Cicero, would he not? Could he go get Loreius while the kind lady recovers from her wounds?"
Wounds? She looked down to see her hands were indeed bloody and quite raw from sliding her hands quickly across the boarded up coffin. She hadn't paid any mind to it when it happened, but now that she noticed it, she couldn't help but feel the burning sensation. Better yet, she had just ran her hand across her face and when she licked her lips, she tasted blood on the tip of her tongue. Her face must have looked horrid.
"You've been accused of a crime against the laws of this land. What say you in your defense?" Panic bubbled up in Annabella as she thought of the incidents she caused back home in Cyrodiil. Surely they didn't hire someone to go looking for her all the way up here in Skyrim. No, no, no. But then she thought about that old mage that she'd betrayed by attempting to steal his staff. He was no spring chicken, but he had many, many friends that he could hire and send after her. Without hesitation, she spoke up with the squeakiest voice she'd ever heard.
"Please don't make me go back to Cyrodiil! I swear I didn't mean to kill those guards. It's not my fault they got in the way!" She spoke over the jester, not so much as even a little bit curious as to what he was about to say. She looked up from her pathetic sitting position on the ground and into the eyes of the dumbstruck guard.
"Wait, what? What have you done?" He shook his head and mumbled something about not getting paid enough. "Tell me what you have done right now, Breton, else I'll haul you into the dungeons and beat it out of you, myself. I'm in no mood to fool around with rebels, thieves, and murderers. Talos knows we've had enough of those lately."
"Well now you're just yelling at me and being very rude." The Breton remained in her seated position, her hands still freshly bleeding while poor Cicero was still holding up the large box on his own, the guard focusing his attention on her with the jester no doubt listening in on the curious conversation.
"Rude? You just freely admitted to me that you killed three guards back in Cyrodiil. While their laws slightly differ from ours, you still committed a crime in front of the gods and must be judged accordingly."
"And if I refuse?"
"Dead or alive, ma'am. Dead or alive."
"Well how about you go fu-"
"Guard! What are you doing? I said the fool is the one that needs arrested. Not this woman. Unless she's an accomplice then feel free." A man who must have been Loreius stood behind her frame, his arms crossed with a frown on his face that looked permanent.
"Let me do my job, Loreius. This woman just admitted to murder. That's a serious crime, if you weren't aware."
"M-murder? By the gods, we've seen enough of that lately. Please don't let them near my wife. I'll let you.. get back to your business."
The Breton looked back at the farmer and let out the most annoying sigh. "Loreius!" He looked down at the injured Breton, holding a look of frustration and.. fear?
"You.. you look awful." He must have been speaking of her bloodied face.
"Excuse me? Is everyone in Skyrim this straight-forward?" She pushed her hair back and made to stand up, but the guard was swift in taking out his war-hammer and aiming it in her direction. Even worse, her bloodied hands had gotten in her hair and she silently cursed under her breath. Now she'd have to find another stream to bathe in.
"Make one move and there will be nothing left of you to bury."
"Tsk. Cranky, much?" She leaned back as far away from the insulting weapons as physically possible. "Now. As I was saying before I was, once again, so rudely interrupted. This man, Cicero, hasn't done a thing wrong. He's just transporting his mother. What's so bad about that? Is it because he's happy and wearing a motley? Because if that's the reason, that's pretty damn pathetic. Maybe you're just too cranky and lazy to help out a man in need. Am I right?" She glanced back at the guard.
"And you. I made a mistake speaking up about my criminal past. It was awhile ago and you shouldn't arrest me for something I'd done in Cyrodiil and I see no reason to arrest this man here." Cicero was very silent.. and it unnerved her. He was jolly and laughing just moments before the guard and the farmer turned their attentions to her. "If you need to arrest anyone right now, arrest Loreius for making up some lie about Cicero. That's the only one who deserves to be arrested, sir."
"You killed three guards. That's enough reason for me to arrest you. And no doubt this fool here is a Skooma dealer. Probably got Skooma for months holed up in that big box of his."
"Mm. Doubtful seeing as how Skooma doesn't weigh that much and since you haven't even bothered helping him with that box of his. Instead you leave him standing there pathetically trying to hold it up by himself. You're no guard. You're a phony out for the money, no matter how you get it." The Breton kicked his weapon in the air and quickly conjured up her bow, shooting the guard right in the knee.
It was a pleasant, unexpected turn and Cicero, whom she had forgotten about momentarily in her rage, began laughing hysterically. She wanted to tell him to shut up, but she was on his side in all this, so she held back her outburst.
"N-no! Stay away from me and my wife! Just leave us alone!" The cowardly farmer began to run back in the direction of his farm - getting his wife, no doubt. She wouldn't have cared much about it, but he knew her face - knew what she looked like. She couldn't afford to be arrested in Skyrim. She could always travel to High Rock, yes, but that was much too far away from here and she didn't fancy making that journey when it could be prevented by either a death or a threat.
She stood up, turned around, aimed her bow, but.. it was too late. Cicero had managed to prop the coffin's box against the wagon and was, at the moment, repeatedly stabbing the man in the face until he was unrecognizable. The sight was rather morbid, but in a way she was happy he was dead and no longer a threat. Made her job less stressful. The guard, however...
"P-please-!. I won't arrest you! Just... stay back... please." The guard fell back on his bottom and held his knee up while failing to remove the arrow two times in a row.
"Maybe if you'd have just listened to me, I wouldn't have to hurt you." She took pleasure in the amount of pain he was currently going through and happily bent down to rip the arrow from his knee. He let out a cry of pain as Cicero came over to kneel beside the man, his dagger at the ready. Annabella reached out and touched Cicero on the shoulder, and from there he winced and held his dagger down at his side. Apparently he wasn't accustomed to being touched much.
"Miss Breton! We should kill him. No witnesses, right? Wouldn't want him to arrest poor Cicero or his new friend." He wasn't acting like he was just moments ago when he was dancing and laughing and carrying about like a lunatic. Now he was acting.. almost sane. Well as sane as you can be when you want to murder someone.
"No." She looked at the guard who was holding his knee and sobbing uncontrollably. "I'll let you live, but on one condition."
"Oh, gods above. Anything! - I'll do anything! Please don't hurt me anymore." The way he pleaded made her sick to her stomach. She hated whiners. She supposed that was a universal thing. Every country, every city; everywhere she went there were whiners. Complainers. People who claimed they were brave until faced with an uncertain, but quite possible death.
"The man Loreius. I seen a female Altmer over on the porch right before you threatened to arrest me. His wife, no doubt. I want you to blame his murder on her. Say whatever you want. Tell the jarl she went crazy if need be and lock her away. Whatever you do, don't speak a word of what really happened, or I swear by the gods, I'll find you and murder you myself."
The Breton stood up and expected him to rush off in a hurry, but scowled when he didn't.
"What's the wait? Go!"
"W-well. My knee, ma'am. It-it's sti-i-ll bleeding and I don't think I can walk." It was as if the realization finally dawned on her that her plan had a huge flawed gap in it.
"Oh."
Cicero lurched forward, dagger in hand, and Annabella was sure he was going to slice his throat open, but was surprised when he had sliced off a piece of fabric from the soft woolen armor the guard wore and carefully wrapped it around his injured knee. Once it was firmly in place, he looked up to the Breton.
"Cicero bandaged his knee, so he should be fine if only someone could provide a small healing spell." He reverted back to his goofy antics and laughed right after he poked her in the belly with a gloved hand. "That would be you, miss! Ahahaha."
"You really want me to perform a spell on him? I'm not that adept at healing spells. I'm a novice at best. I remember one time where I accidentally caused the wound to bleed more than actually heal it. I don't think tha-"
"Please just give me that horse to ride back on. That would be believable! Just don't make me suffer anymore. I can't stand the pain." He let out another whimper as he held onto his knee.
"Not a chance. That's the only horse Cicero has, clearly. And he needs one to pull the wagon." She thought about it for a moment, but shook the idea out of her head. "No. I'll heal you. It's the best chance we have."
"Ohohoho. I hope the witchy Breton doesn't make him bath in a pool of his own blood. It would be dreadful, but so fun to watch!" That laugh again. Sometimes it gave her chills. Other times it made her think about burying her head underground. And the way he called her a Witch. While she was no witch, it did seem fitting seeing as how she was incredibly destructive and did more awful things than good. Still. She deemed herself to be a battle-mage and that was that.
"Oh, shut up." She told the wailing guard as she pulled his knee towards her. She thought long and hard on the spell, remembered it slightly and guessing the rest of it. All she could do was hope for the best.
Using all the energy she could muster, she transferred part of said energy into the wound to attempt to revive it. A bright light shone between the guards knee and her hands as it found it's way into the wound and began to cleanse it. When she was finished, she took a single scoot back and found.. it to be almost perfectly healed. Just a semi-part of his bruise was sticking out from the top of the bandage.
She couldn't hold back her excitement and stood up, laughing merrily. "I-I did it! I didn't screw it up again!" She looked back at the two men on the ground, Cicero examining the wound carefully and the guard looking relived, but ready to pass out.
Everything was working out great. Though she knew nothing ever worked out perfectly. In the near distance she seen a group of Imperial men walking towards them on the road - not unusual seeing as how roads are used to travel on, clearly. But she did freak out a bit when they got close enough to see the blood on the unrecognizable body. They sprinted at this point, swords drawn.
"You there! Citizens! Guard. What happened here?" He was tall for an Imperial; almost the same size as a Nord with a voice ten times more stern.
"Ohhhh! Imperials will help poor Cicero. Cicero is Imperial, after all." He dramatically pointed to his wagon and placed a gloved hand upon his forehead. "Oh, it was just awful! Cicero was minding his own business and then this crazy elf lady comes out of that farmhouse and attacked me! Knocked me right off the wagon and the jolt made my wheel pop off."
Annabella placed her hand on her chin and closed her eyes. All she knew was that he'd had better make his story damn believable.
"And then her husband came out to try and stop her, but oh no! He couldn't best her. She grabbed my dagger and started stabbing him in the face. Stab, stab, stab, stab, stab!" He made stabbing motions with his hands as he wailed on. "Breton lady was walking towards here, much like you did, and seen what was happening and tried to stop her, but no! It was too late for poor Loreius! And her face - the poor Breton's face! Smeared in her own blood from trying to hold up my poor mother's coffin to keep from getting damaged."
The Imperials, seeming to actually believe the fool's ramblings, asked him what had happened next.
"Oh, it was tragic! She tried stopping her and the elf lady aimed right for the little Breton, but she moved and struck the guard, instead! Right in the knee! I don't know if it'll ever be healed properly." Cicero sniffed and looked at the guard with a look of pure bullshitted sympathy. "All I was trying to do was take my poor mother to her new crypt. And look at what happened! HORRIBLE. TRAGIC. DEVASTATION!"
One of the men looked at Annabella. "Is what he says true?"
"Every word. The Altmer woman ran back into her farmhouse. I would have went after her, but I felt so bad about the guard that I had to try and heal him before his wound got infected." She gave a small smile in the guards direction.
"Guard. Is what she says true? If so, we'll report it to the jarl at once. He needs to be informed, as well as the rest of the guards."
The guard peered up at Annabella and Cicero who were both, at the moment, looking down at him, backs facing the guards, with smiles on their faces that looked to be something out of a nightmare as warning if he dared to cross them. "Y-yes. Of course. That Altmer needs to be arrested immediately. Do you boys think you can help me?"
The Imperials nodded and after much talk, shouting, screams, and cries, the woman was finally dragged out of her home to see the sight of her husband laying on the ground, brutally murdered with the dagger she was being accused of holding. The woman was dragged away by two Imperials and the bruised guard while the remaining Imperials helped her and Cicero repair the wagon.
When they finally departed and all that was left was her, Cicero, and the dead body of Loreius, whom the guards were coming back for, it turned into a very hospitable conversation.
"Cicero would love, love, LOVE to thank the kind Breton lady for all of her help. Now me and mother can finally go home!" The Breton shrugged her shoulders and commented on how it was no trouble at all as he danced around the wagon.
"The whole reason I came to you, though, was to ask if you had directions to Windhelm. Probably not since you look like you just came into Skyrim, as well." She looked down at the body near their feet. "I doubt he'll talk much on the subject. He's just dying to keep silent on the matter." Annabella had to smile at her own pun, but Cicero beat her to it, smiling so wide she was sure he was a hyena in disguise.
"Miss Breton is from Cyrodiil too, hm? Do tell me which part you're from. I just came from there, myself!"
"Anvil. It's been my home for years, but after a certain.. incident that you probably overheard, I can't go back. Not to Cyrodiil for at least ten years. I want to make sure my record is clean." She paused and looked at the jester. His clothing was very unusual for Skyrim. Sure she'd seen jesters in Cyrodiil and heard of them in High Rock, but it was still quite off for someone to be so happy in a land so cold, frigid, and full of people with rocks for brains. "Where are you from, Cicero?"
She leaned against the horse and ran her fingers through his mane, watching how he flipped his head back and forth. She loved horses and wish she had taken better care of the one she'd "borrowed" near the border.
"Cicero is from Cheydinhal, dear Breton. It's so very, very lovely there! Have you been?"
"A couple times, yes. It's a very peaceful town. Nothing ever really happened there, though. Was a little too boring for my taste. But it would have been a great town to raise a family in, I'm sure."
"Ahaha. Yes. Too boring. Especially after.. the incident." Cicero's eyes got dark for a moment before tapping the wagon wheel with his boot and chuckling. "But maybe dear Breton would like to hear of Cicero later when we may cross paths again. I just hope our paths aren't.. deadly!"
She let out a slight laugh, not sure if it was a good idea to meet up with this jester again. He didn't seem exactly stable... but then again, was she stable? No.. not really. In the midst of her thoughts, she was smacked in the head with a piece of paper.
"W-what..?"
"Pretty lady must have been lost in her thoughts. Here is a map I "borrowed" from someone on the road earlier. I already got directions for where I'm going, but little Breton might need it. I feel like she needs it more than me and mother do! Ahaha." He patted the box containing his mothers remains and hopped up onto his wagon, but not before handing her 200 gold in a pouch, which she happily took.
After exchanging their thanks and farewells, she began to walk down the road, but was met with a horrible screech. "MISS BRETON LADY."
"YES? WHAT DO YOU NEED?" She looked back at the fool in the wagon who was riding it, well.. backwards at the moment. She followed suit and began slowly walking backwards.
"WHAT IS THE KIND BRETON'S NAME?"
"Oh... ANNABELLA!"
"MISS ANNABELLA! IT WAS A PLEASURE TO SEE YOU. AHAHAHA." And with that, the jester turned back around and began his lonely journey, as she hers. She flipped open her map and let out a huge sigh. Boy, what a day this has been. She looked up into the sky to see the stars starting to come out. It was gonna be a long trip.
She wrinkled her nose at the thought and felt the now dried blood on her face. She'd forgotten about that... perhaps another bath was in order.
