Chapter Summary
If Eola thought adventuring with Sapphire meant a break from travelling with a murderous troublemaker... she was wrong. Meanwhile, Delphine's got to face Cicero while knowing he's covering for Paarthurnax - and he's not the idiot he pretends to be. All this and persuade Ulfric Stormcloak to come to a peace conference too. How hard can it be?Chapter 25: Season Unending Part 1: Windhelm
Eola and Sapphire glared at each other over the body of the dead Dunmer priest.
"What did you kill him for?" Eola shouted. "He was going to destroy the Skull! No more nightmares!"
"He was going to take it for himself and betray us!" Sapphire shouted back. "All this – it was his fault! Him and his... friends. They took my memories, Eola. All my memories of Aranea – gone."
"Which means the Skull can still feed and we're stuck with it," Eola sighed. "We can't leave it here. Namira, if this thing starts feeding off us all at the Sanctuary – if Cicero starts getting the nightmares again, or Sithis help us, Del starts losing memories..."
"It won't come to that," said Sapphire quickly. "You heard what Erandur said, it's feeding itself because no one feeds it. All you have to do is keep it charged."
"Oh, so it's my problem now, is it?" said Eola, glaring.
"It's Daedric magecraft. Figured you'd have more use for it than me," said Sapphire. "It's a powerful staff from the look of it."
Eola did have to admit it looked impressive. She picked it up and waved it experimentally, jumping as she saw a rather deadly wave of energy blast out from it.
"See?" said Sapphire, looking a bit too smug for her own good. "Now you too can be a kick-ass battlemage."
"You mean I wasn't already?" Eola pouted, shouldering the Skull. She supposed it was worth keeping – Namira knew she didn't want it in anyone else's hands. She could always hide it over at the Shrine of Namira if she needed to. "Come on, let's get this pommel stone sold and get out of here. Best not keep Silus waiting."
A day later, and Delphine was standing in front of Hjerim, remembering the last time she'd been here. Esbern newly rescued, her family united and strong, Cicero by her side, newly claimed as hers. Things had seemed so much more innocent back then.
Now here she was, knowing that inside Cicero would be waiting, as she'd asked him to after visiting the Greybeards and getting their agreement to hold a peace conference. Waiting for her, probably with dinner ready and eager fingers to massage the aches of the road away, and if it hadn't been for the knowledge eating away inside her, she'd be all too delighted to join him.
But there was a dragon at the top of the Throat of the World, a damn dragon, Alduin's younger brother, waiting in the wings to take over with the World-Eater gone, a dragon who it turned out had come up with the whole 'use an Elder Scroll to learn Dragonrend' plan, and this whole 'trap a dragon in Dragonsreach' madness. Delphine hadn't liked seeking help from the Greybeards in the first place, but to find out it wasn't even them, it was a damn dragon's tune they were all dancing to... The thought made her blood boil, and knowing that Cicero had known all this and lied about it was worse. She wasn't sure how much credit to give to Esbern's theory of Paarthurnax having some sort of mind control that turned his followers into fanatics, but if Cicero had been honest in the first place, she'd have been angry, sure – but she'd have listened, and she'd have laughed at Esbern's mind control theory. She didn't trust easily, but she'd come to trust Cicero. And he'd flat out lied to her. Worst thing was, she couldn't even confront him yet. They still had a job to do. But once this conference was over... then she'd be having words. She was dreading it.
Pushing the door open and steeling herself for facing him again, she stepped into Hjerim.
As always, Cicero was shaven and scrubbed clean, busy lighting candles and setting the table. He was wearing his new jester outfit, humming to himself as he worked. He glanced up as she came in, grinning in delight and bouncing over to her.
"Listener, Listener, Delphine, you're back!" he squealed, flinging himself into her arms, seeming not to notice her discomfort. "Cicero is making dinner, sweetling, it is nearly ready, you must be tired from the road, come, come, let Cicero take care of you."
Delphine let him lead her to the table, closing her eyes and letting him fuss. It was nice, she had to admit. It was slowly breaking her heart, but the attention was always nice.
"Cicero has been very good," he told her as he straddled the bench next to her and began to rub her shoulders. "He has been here two days and not killed anyone! He was even helpful! He went to this Forsaken Cave for the elf that runs the potions shop, and found an old Nord ruin inside with this magical phial that the elf wanted. Although it turned out to be broken, and the elf accused poor Cicero of having done it. Me! As if Cicero is that careless. Gave me five septims for it, and he is fortunate that his nice assistant paid Cicero properly for his efforts, because otherwise Cicero might have become... angry." Cicero's hands went still as he paused and on the last word, his voice lowered into that harsher, deeper register that only occasionally broke through but always left Delphine shivering. Usually with arousal, but this time Delphine felt as if he'd held a knife to her throat. Cicero seemed not to notice, resuming the shoulder rub.
"But Cicero is merciful and the elf lives," Cicero continued. "And it was not a total loss, there was a word wall there! Cicero knows the second word of Marked for Death now! But he will not use it here, he wouldn't want to mark the Listener for death, no. That would be very bad. Very bad indeed, yes. And Cicero knows how you feel about Shouting indoors, so he won't do it."
Damn you, Cicero. Why do you have to make it so damn difficult to stay angry with you? She knew it would be like this. Here she was, trying to maintain some distance, and here he was, closing the gap without even trying. She couldn't trust him but she wanted to so very badly.
His hands had stopped working, falling from her shoulders.
"Listener, is everything alright?" She didn't need to look to know he'd be frowning, tilting his head, arms folded. "You've barely said a word since you got here. Is something troubling you? Tell your Cicero what it is. He might be able to help. Does somebody need an artery opening?"
Talos help her. She'd never manage to survive this.
"I've had an exhausting time of it, Cicero. It was a long and difficult journey to get here and I'm just..." Ready to cry or scream. But I can't.
"Sweetling." Cicero got up and moved to sit in front of her now, those dark eyes so very gentle, candlelight playing on his cheekbones, his expression combining worry with tenderness. "Sweetling, Cicero has not seen you so unhappy in a long time. Cicero worries, dearest one. He doesn't usually worry about much, but if his Listener is unhappy, that is bad. Will you not take pity on him and tell him what is wrong?"
She'd never get away with this, not the whole keeping a distance thing. He was too perceptive for that. No, she'd need to do something else. Pretend. Pretend he was still loyal, still trustworthy, still her little murdering he-daedra.
"Do you love me?" she heard herself saying. "Really love me? Not just saying that because you want to keep the Listener happy? Not just pretending to be a happy servant because that's what I like?"
Cicero blinked, looking honestly baffled. "What sort of question is that? Of course I love you, sweetness. Cicero's always loved you, you know that. From the first time he saw you looking at him in Dragonsreach with that gleeful smile on your face like you'd just cornered a victim and were moving in for the kill. Then you took me home to your inn, and you let poor Cicero ramble on without calling him mad once, and you gave Mother somewhere to rest, and then you listened. You listened to me talk and you talked back and you didn't mind me cuddling you and it was real, all real – Sithis, Delphine, you were the first person to actually touch me and talk to me properly in years. Of course Cicero loves you. Before you were Listener... you listened to me. Cicero won't ever forget that." He was holding her hands, leaning in closely, all intensity and burning focus and she was just about ready to fling herself into his arms and kiss him, forget everything, forget Esbern, Paarthurnax, the Blades, all of it.
"Would you have fallen in love with anyone who'd done all that?" she asked.
"No one else did," said Cicero, his voice low and husky. Delphine felt pangs of guilt constricting around her heart and she wished Esbern were here to see this so she could scream at him to look, see, did this sound like someone who was disloyal and planning to betray them all? But she couldn't be entirely sure, not now. However, she was fairly certain he wasn't going to sell her out tonight.
He'd gone very quiet, staring at her hands. "You are not wearing it," he said, accusatory note creeping in, a hint of danger there and Delphine swiftly revised that opinion.
"It's in my pocket," she said hastily. "Didn't want to wear it on the road, didn't want to attract thieves." Mercifully, he believed her. Thankfully, it was partly true.
"Of course, of course," he giggled, letting go of her hands, the Fool of Hearts back in residence. "Foolish Cicero! Delphine would not want to be robbed, no. She would want her token of love kept safe, yes? Yes, of course. Cicero understands, sweetling. Of course, he doesn't understand much else about you tonight. Frankly, my lovely, you're acting very strangely."
Delphine forced the heartbreak and the doubts to one side, smiling and hoping it looked genuine. "I'm sorry, honey. I was just thinking about the ring and what it meant to you, and worrying you'd just fallen in love with the first pretty face who'd been nice to you and that you'd realise eventually you made a terrible mistake." It wasn't even entirely untrue either – even before learning about Paarthurnax, she'd wondered if perhaps he'd not got carried away with the whole idea and might regret it later. Thinking about the future wasn't really Cicero's strong point.
"Sweetling," and the kind and gentle reassuring voice was back. "You worry too much. Cicero knows his own heart and mind. Trust him, sweetness. He would not have offered himself as your Keeper if he did not want it." He kissed her on the cheek, gloved fingers running through her hair, before letting go and backing off, smiling down at her. "Cicero will fetch us both dinner, yes? And then you can tell Cicero if Esbern knows any dragon names yet, and how we're going to talk Ulfric Stormcloak into coming to a peace conference without Cicero having to threaten him."
Delphine smiled at him as he danced off into the kitchen, singing merrily about chancing to see a singing bird. The smile faded as soon as his back was turned, but there was work to be done and if Delphine was good at anything, it was taking care of business.
Why she'd ever agreed to this, Eola had no idea. She should have left Sapphire out of it, taken all the pieces of the Razor to Silus herself, taken the coin and gone home. Job done. But no, she'd had to ask the thief for help, the thief who'd fallen a bit in love with the dagger pieces, and now here they were, halfway up a mountain in the Pale, at the Shrine of Mehrunes Dagon, watching some idiot try to summon the Lord of Destruction. All because Sapphire had been unable to contain her excitement at maybe getting her hands on the Razor, and had raised the entirely reasonable point that if this was such a terrible idea, maybe Eola might want to be on hand to stop it, hmm?
"This is still a terrible idea..." Eola muttered under her breath, watching Silus Vesuius try to invoke Mehrunes Dagon.
"You're such a pessimist," said Sapphire, now rather perky with the nightmares gone and the prospect of a pretty dagger to look forward to. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"The Gates of Oblivion open, and all Dagon's Dremora hordes pour out to destroy the world, and we're the first ones they kill?" said Eola.
"It won't come to that," said Sapphire, still sounding far too confident.
And you, with all your vast knowledge of the Daedra, know this because...? Eola wanted to reply, but she knew it would fall on deaf ears. Instead she offered up a prayer to Namira, and indeed Azura and Meridia if they were listening and feeling generous, to at least make sure Mehrunes Dagon stayed firmly in Oblivion.
It seemed as though she might be in luck. Nothing was happening at the shrine. Silus stepped back from the altar, shaking his head.
"It's not working," he said. "One of you should try it."
Eola stepped smartly back, hands raised. "Leave me out of it, last time I put my hands on the altar of a Daedric Prince that wasn't Namira, I ended up having fire-wielding Dremora trying to kill me. You want the knife so much, you do it."
So Sapphire did. Sure enough, this time Dagon answered.
"Ahhh... now you are different. Stronger. Braver than that puny weakling. His ancestors must be so disappointed."
Silus opened his mouth to object, then closed it again, remembering who was talking. Mehrunes Dagon was not someone you contradicted at will.
"I will give you my Razor, mortal. I think you can find a use for it. But Dagon does not declare a winner while there is still a pawn on the board. Kill Silus and the Razor is yours."
"Now – now wait a minute!" Silus cried. Sapphire didn't even give him a chance to finish. Before he could utter another word, Sapphire's dagger was buried in his chest, blade sliding neatly between his ribs. As the blood bubbled up in his throat, Silus Vesuius breathed his last and collapsed to the ground.
Eola could only sigh, watching as Sapphire strode back to the altar, grinning gleefully at the prospect of finally getting her hands on the famed Razor. With Cicero gone, she'd thought she'd be in for a nice calm uneventful trip without a murderous psychopath at her side causing trouble, but it appeared she'd underestimated Sapphire.
"Do I get my dagger now?" the other woman asked hopefully. Dagon laughed, and sure enough, the pieces of the Razor floated into the air before reforging, the shards pouring into the scabbard like liquid glass and the hilt and pommel slotted into their places. The dagger hung before them, and Sapphire took it, holding it in awe.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"Indeed," Dagon laughed. "Use it well, mortal. And as a little test of your nerve, a final challenge for my champion!" Laughter echoed around the shrine, and two Dremora materialised. Two very big Dremora with greatswords.
"Sapphire!" Eola screamed at her, casting her mage armour and unsheathing the Skull of
Corruption. "This is all your fault!"
"How was I to know this would happen!" Sapphire cried, daggers in hand as she dodged and weaved, stabbing at one of the Dremora and hoping the Razor wouldn't let her down. It certainly stabbed nicely enough, but unfortunately Dremora didn't go down easy and Sapphire was not as skilled as Cicero, who would have made short work of them. Fortunately, Eola was more than up to the job, a Flame Atronach moving in to help Sapphire while Eola herself was casting chain lightning with one hand and blasting at the other Dremora with the Skull. It wasn't long before it succumbed. Sapphire was managing to hold the other one at bay, parrying its blows with her dagger blades, and then to her eternal relief, Eola was there, one blow from Dawnbreaker finishing it off.
"Thank you," Sapphire whispered once she'd recovered the power of speech. Eola was sheathing her weapons, glaring at Sapphire.
"Have we all learned a valuable lesson about trafficking with Daedra Lords?" Eola said tersely, rather unfairly in Sapphire's opinion given that Eola was a sworn priestess of Namira herself.
"Hey, I didn't know there'd be actual Daedra!" Sapphire protested. "You dragged me into this by promising me gold! I just wanted to see the job through to the end. The shiny dagger is just a bonus."
"It's pretty shiny," Eola had to admit. Truth be told, it had been Silus Vesuius' dumb idea to actually try and summon Mehrunes Dagon to repair it. Really, if he'd thought that was a good idea, he was just too stupid to live. All in all, things appeared to have gone pretty well. Time to loot all the bodies and head home.
"Hey, there's a key on this Dremora's corpse," said Sapphire. "Reckon it'll let us into the Shrine?"
"Probably," said Eola, preoccupied with slicing Silus' corpse up. No sense letting good meat go to waste, after all. Sapphire, having got all she was going to off the Dremora, opened the Shrine door successfully and slipped inside to see if there was anything worth having.
About a minute later, Eola found herself distracted by the sound of Sapphire screaming her name.
"Sweet Night Mother," Eola muttered, getting to her feet, finding herself missing Cicero more with each passing day. He might be one of the biggest trouble magnets around... but at least he very rarely needed saving.
Morning in Windhelm, and it was sunny, if bone-chillingly cold. Cicero was fully armed and armoured, as was Delphine, resplendent in her Blades armour. Secret identity be damned, for this she needed to look authoritative, or as authoritative as she could with a capering jester at her side. All seemed well with him, and he'd been cheerful all morning, albeit sending her the odd concerned look. She'd managed to avoid having sex with him the night before and thank Talos, he'd just let it go, murmuring "As you wish," as she'd caught his wrists before his hands could get between her thighs and lifted them away. She'd not been able to avoid the cuddling though. He'd wrapped himself around her, pulling the blankets over them both and held her all night, falling asleep soon enough, but gripping her tightly enough he'd likely wake up if she moved. It had been some time before she'd been able to sleep herself. I want my boy back. I want it to be like it was. I miss you, Cicero, and you're right here...
Now here they were in Ulfric's palace and she needed to focus. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the hallway to where Ulfric Stormcloak himself was waiting. He was talking to Galmar about Whiterun and Balgruuf, reassuring his housecarl that Balgruuf was a true Nord and would come round. Delphine wasn't nearly so sure about that point but Ulfric always had been over-confident. He glanced her way as he heard her approach, looked twice, eyes widening before he got to his feet, arms outstretched.
"Delphine, old friend," he laughed. "Welcome back to Windhelm. Is that Blades armour I see? You're a brave woman to wear that openly."
"I'm a brave woman," Delphine replied, smile finding its way to her face as she realised she'd forgiven him, had done some time ago. She just hoped they didn't have to kill him. "And you're a brave man considering I tried to kill you last time I saw you."
Ulfric laughed, drawing her into an embrace and patting her on the back before releasing her, hands on her shoulders.
"Ah, Delphine. You're not the assassination type. Or at least, if you were, you'd be rather subtler than walking straight into my hall and knifing me."
If only you knew, Ulfric. Still, he was right about the second part at least.
"I'm not here to kill you, Ulfric. I'm here about dragons."
"Dragons, eh?" Ulfric stepped away and settled back into his throne, waving Galmar away. Galmar was looking rather suspiciously at her, and while it seemed Ulfric bore her no hard feelings, his housecarl clearly wasn't so forgiving. To be expected, really.
"So why is Delphine of the Blades interested in dragons?" Ulfric asked, stroking his beard. "And why does Delphine think I might be able to help? My armies are tied up in the field, I've no men to spare for dragon-hunting, Delphine. And who is your friend there? I assume he's with you, because if he's not, my guards will be throwing him out due to that sweetroll he's just pocketed."
Cicero was by Delphine's side in seconds, arm linked with hers and pouting.
"Cicero was hungry," he whined, gazing pathetically up at her and Ulfric in turn.
"You had breakfast not half an hour ago, Cicero," Delphine growled, patience wearing a little thin. "Yes, Ulfric, he's with me and no I don't need men from you to help me hunt dragons. Not when I have the Dragonborn himself right here."
Whatever reaction she'd expected from Ulfric, it hadn't been outright roars of laughter, complete with a slapping of the thigh. Finally, the Jarl dried his eyes.
"Delphine, Delphine, you truly believe me to expect that buffoon's the Dragonborn? He's clearly insane."
Cicero's eyes narrowed. "Delphine," he said calmly, far too calmly, "remind me again why we cannot kill the Stormcloak lord?"
"Because no one's paying us," Delphine murmured in Cicero's ear. "Now behave." She turned back to Ulfric, folding her arms and doing her best to look as intimidating as possible.
"He's the Dragonborn, Ulfric. Believe it or don't, I don't care. But he's here and he's going to kill dragons for me. All of them. Right up to Alduin himself." She didn't look at Cicero as she said this. Didn't dare see his reaction. After all, she wasn't supposed to know about Paarthurnax, was she?
"The World-Eater himself?" Ulfric said in wonder. "No, surely not. He cannot be here."
"Believe it, Ulfric," said Delphine sharply. "He's in Sovngarde right now, feasting on the souls of the dead. We need to find the portal he used, send Cicero here through it, and then Cicero's going to kill the World-Eater. Isn't that right, Cicero?"
"Oh yes," Cicero growled. "Cicero will end Alduin... and anyone else who gets in his way." The look he shot Ulfric as he said this clearly implied that if he thought Ulfric was getting in his way, he'd be among those dying.
"I don't know where this portal might be, Delphine," said Ulfric, shifting nervously in his throne. "If anyone does, the Greybeards might."
"Oh, that's not what we need your help for," said Delphine. "We've already got a plan to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach and interrogate it to find out where Alduin's hiding. The only problem here is that Balgruuf doesn't like the idea."
"Does he not? You do surprise me," said Ulfric, rolling his eyes. "Is this why you need my assistance then? You want me to invade Whiterun, dethrone Balgruuf, install a Stormcloak Jarl and persuade them to agree to this plan while my armies remain in place to deter Imperial attacks?"
"Ooh, Cicero likes the way the Stormcloak thinks!" said Cicero, impressed. "Could Cicero accompany the Stormcloak armies? Cicero could... help."
"No!" Delphine hissed at him, not missing the way Ulfric had raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed by Cicero's bloodlust if nothing else. "Ulfric, that's not what we came here to ask – I'm hoping to find a way round this without having to kill anyone." She ignored the sulky pouting from Cicero.
"If you can do that, I'll be impressed indeed," said Ulfric, intrigued. "So what is this plan of yours?"
"We're holding a peace council at High Hrothgar," said Delphine. "The Greybeards have agreed to host it. Will you come?"
"And if I say no?" said Ulfric, his preferred plan clearly in accord with Cicero's. Great. Typical bloody men and their typical bloody macho posturing. She had dragons to kill, dammit, couldn't Ulfric see the bigger picture for once?
Cicero stepped up to the Jarl's throne, right up to it, almost nose to nose with Ulfric.
"Because if Ulfric says no, Cicero will have to fall back on to the other plan," said Cicero, his voice low and dangerous. "Ulfric would not like the other plan. It would be ugly. Messy. No, Ulfric would definitely not like it if things became... ugly."
Everyone else had fallen silent, the atmosphere in the hall tense and ready to explode. Delphine counted the number of guards between her and the exit. Too many. Far too many, and there was the city to get out of. Even with Cicero at her side, it didn't look good.
"Are you threatening me, Dragonborn?" said Ulfric softly.
"On your orders, Ulfric," Galmar growled, unsheathing his battle axe. "Say the word and I send this fool back to the realm of Oblivion he came from."
"Don't you dare, Galmar," said Delphine, reaching for her own katana. "I'm sworn to protect the dragon blood, you know that."
"The dragon blood can protect itself if it runs true," said Ulfric calmly. He eyed Cicero, still not entirely convinced Cicero was the Dragonborn. "Well, Dovahkiin? Are you truly the heir to that legacy, or are you just some pretender?"
"Ulfric wants to see my inner Dovah?" Cicero said, murderer's grin spreading across his face. "That is very brave. Cicero respects bravery. So much easier to kill a brave man than a coward."
"Which are you, Cicero?" Ulfric asked, not even flinching. "I'd like to be prepared."
"Neither," Cicero growled. "Cicero knows his skills. He knows the fights he can win and not win. Can the Jarl say the same? Or has he grown lazy?"
If we make it out of here alive, I swear I will kill him. Delphine held her katana across her chest, ready to spring into action if she had to.
"Then let's put your skills to the test," said Ulfric, glaring at Cicero. "You and me in single combat, here, now. Fight until first blood. You win, I'll go to your conference. I win – you'll get one chance to leave this city alive. I suggest you take it."
Sweet Mother, is it really going to come down to this? She should never have brought Cicero, she just knew there'd be trouble.
"Accepted," Cicero said with a grin, stepping back and unsheathing Dragonbane. Ulfric just smiled.
"FUS RO DAH!" and it wasn't Cicero who'd Shouted. Cicero staggered back, clearly shaken by the force of it. Ulfric got to his feet, ebony sword drawn and ready to strike. Delphine felt her breath catch in her throat as Cicero regained his footing and looked up, lethal smile in place.
"Is that all?" he purred. "KRII LUN!" Ulfric cried out as the wave of killing dragon power engulfed him, but he was still standing. Then the fight was on in earnest, Ulfric's heavy strokes matched by Cicero's lighter and faster ones, ebony clashing with steel, sparks flying every time Dragonbane struck. The two men were rather more evenly matched than anyone could have anticipated, and Delphine had seen both in action before now. However, Ulfric was a decade older and the Marked for Death Shout had weakened him. Cicero saw his chance and drew Dragonbane back to strike.
"ZUN HAAL VIIK!" Dragonbane was torn from Cicero's hand and sent flying across the room. Delphine cried out, but Ulfric was already preparing to strike down her Cicero and two guards had grabbed her arms, holding her back.
Cicero reached into his pocket and drew his Daedric dagger. Before Ulfric could strike, Cicero dived in, right up in Ulfric's face, staring intently into the Jarl's eyes... and driving his dagger deep into Ulfric's clothes. There was a pause, in which Ulfric stared down in shock at the little jester, and then Cicero had withdrawn his dagger, stepping back and out of reach. To Delphine's surprise, there was no arterial bloodspatter despite blood dripping from Cicero's blade, and Ulfric was still standing.
"First blood," Cicero growled. "Those were your terms, Stormcloak Jarl." He cleaned the blade and sheathed it. Ulfric was fingering the rent in his clothing, apparently too stunned to say anything.
"Ulfric," Galmar cried, racing to the Jarl's side. "What did he do? Are you alright?"
"I'm... it's a flesh wound only," said Ulfric, clutching his side and sitting down at the trestle table in the centre of the hall. "I've suffered worse, Galmar, stop fussing. And let Delphine go, she's done no wrong."
As soon as the guards released her, she ran to Cicero, sweeping him into her arms, heedless of anyone or anything. Damn Esbern, damn Paarthurnax, yes there'd have to be a reckoning eventually but not today.
"Are you alright?" she whispered. Cicero looked up, grinning.
"Oh, Cicero is fine. Sweet Delphine should not worry. Cicero knew what he was doing."
I could cheerfully slap you sometimes. But not here, not right now. She was too relieved to care.
"Aye, that you did, lad," said Ulfric, the usual grandstanding absent from his voice for once. "You could easily have killed me there, but didn't. That last strike took a lot of skill, getting the angle right to wound only and not kill. Well done, Dragonborn."
"Cicero thanks you, kind Jarl Ulfric," Cicero replied, sliding on to the bench next to him. "Your Thu'um is strong also. Cicero did not know that Disarming one."
"They're the only two I know," Ulfric admitted. "I'd teach it to you but, well, why give up my one advantage?"
A firm hand on Cicero's shoulder stopped him replying.
"So this conference," said Delphine, her grip on Cicero not loosening for a second. "You will come?"
Ulfric nodded. "I'll be there. I'll negotiate in good faith – if Tullius turns up and makes me a reasonable offer, you'll have your truce."
"Thank you," said Delphine, finally allowing herself to smile. "It's all we ask."
Ulfric wisely decided not to ask what would happen if all fell apart at the conference. Something told him he wouldn't like the answer. Cicero retrieved his sword, and he and Delphine took their leave.
Once out in the sunshine, Delphine sank down on to the stone, her knees about ready to give out from the strain.
"Sweetling?" Cicero was by her side in a second, all concern. "Are you well? Should Cicero fetch a healer?"
"I'm fine!" Delphine gasped. "I'm just... I can't actually believe that worked! And you... you started a fight with Ulfric Stormcloak and we both got out of there alive... Cicero, I swear you'll be the death of me."
She found herself cuddled tightly and belatedly remembered that Cicero's grasp of metaphor was a little hazy, especially ones involving death.
"No no no, Cicero never would!" he cried. "He would never hurt his sweetling!"
"It's alright. I know," she said gently, stroking his hair. She felt him relax a little but he was still clinging to her. Whatever dragon mind-control might or might not be affecting him, Esbern had been right about one thing – Cicero's affections were genuine. There was hope for him yet.
"Cicero," she began. "You know I love you, right? I mean, you're important to me. Really important to me."
"Cicero knows," came the reply. He slowly released his grip on her, lifting her head to face him. "Cicero has to ask, is everything alright? Is there something he should know?"
"No, no, not yet," said Delphine. She leaned up and kissed him once on the lips. "Just... whatever happens, don't ever forget that I love you. I really do. I know I don't say it to you much. But I do."
Cicero responded by kissing her, gloved fingers snaking through her hair as his lips pressed against hers, gently at first then increasingly more persistent until a passing guard snapped at them to stop lollygagging and find a room. Cicero broke off, grinning, and helped her to her feet.
"Well, my lovely, should we do as the nice guard says and find a room? Hjerim is not far..."
"Not now," Delphine said, although the thought of disappearing with Cicero for a few hours was tempting. "We need to get to Solitude and meet with Tullius next and I'd like to be there by nightfall. So we need to leave now. Besides, I've got a little surprise for you once we're out on the road."
That had Cicero's attention. "Ooh! A surprise! Cicero likes surprises." He linked his arm in hers, all cheerful now. Delphine smiled indulgently at him. He probably wouldn't be quite so keen on this one. She still owed him a punishment for the whole Mikael incident in Whiterun after all, and after he'd challenged Ulfric Stormcloak to a fight, clearly he needed firmly taking in hand. Feeling much happier than she had that morning, she led unsuspecting Cicero out of Windhelm.
Chapter End Notes
A/N: That's all for now - next update, Cicero and Delphine go to Solitude to see if Tullius is any more receptive, we learn a bit more about Cicero's blood family and the Blades, and everyone is gathering at Ivarstead in preparation for the High Hrothgar conference. These next few chapters are going to be a bit short - the whole Season Unending arc turned into Chapter Unending and it's about 30 pages. So I've split it into three chapters. Next one will be in a few days hopefully. I have the week off work and it's likely to be spent writing. :D