Chapter Summary

In which Delphine and Cicero need to go to Solitude to persuade the Imperials to show up, we find out a bit more about Cicero's blood family and everyone is gathering at Ivarstead in preparation for the peace summit.

Chapter 26: Season Unending Part 2: Solitude

"Solitude. Huh. Lonely Cicero could tell you a thing or two about solitude." Those had been Cicero's first words on entering the city, and his attitude towards the place had not changed since.

"You really don't like this city, do you?" Delphine asked as they walked up towards Castle Dour. Cicero shook his head.

"Not as pretty as Whiterun, not as much fun as Riften. Markarth is Eola's city, so Cicero will like it for that reason alone, and Windhelm may be cold but it's ours. This is trying to be Cyrodiil and failing."

"You really miss it, don't you? Cyrodiil, I mean," said Delphine. She'd travelled too much to ever get too attached to any one place, so homesickness was a foreign concept to her, but Cicero had spent virtually all his life in Cyrodiil. Leaving must have been hard for him.

"Cicero does," he said softly. "So much warmer. Flowers everywhere – the roses, the jasmine, the honeysuckle, plants that don't grow this far north. Trees that haven't had to grow hard and pointy just to survive. You know, Delphine, you were stationed there. You know how beautiful it is."

Delphine had to agree. When it wasn't being torn apart by war and violence, Cyrodiil was a fertile land of lush green valleys and rolling hills. She had a few fond memories of the place.

"I'm sorry you had to leave," she told him. He smiled back, squeezing her hand.

"Don't be. Cicero misses Cyrodiil – but Skyrim has its own attractions."

Delphine could feel herself blushing. Cicero didn't seem to have the legendary Imperial ability to impose calm with the mere raising of their voice, Shouts notwithstanding, but he certainly had the famed Imperial flirtation skills.

"But Solitude isn't one of them."

Cicero shook his head. "No, sweetness. Reminds Cicero of home. Isn't home. Like if you died, and then Cicero met your sister. It would make things worse."

"I don't have a sister," said Delphine softly. "Not any more." No, the Thalmor had killed her entire family in the process of trying to track her down. She could never return to High Rock, not now. Too many memories, and she'd spent the last thirty years trying to forget. "Come on. We're here."

They walked into Castle Dour hand in hand, the Legionnaires on guard taking one look at Delphine's Blades armour, widening their eyes and motioning for them to go on through.

"You can't force a Nord to accept help he hasn't asked for," a Nord Legionnaire in the armour of a high-ranking officer was telling an Imperial in a general's uniform. This must be the famed General Tullius, and the woman speaking to him was clearly one of his Legates – Rikke, was it?

"Then we'll make it seem like it's his idea," Tullius replied, glancing up as they entered – and falling silent immediately on seeing Delphine in her armour.

"I'm looking for General Tullius," said Delphine, meeting his eye and hoping she didn't look as self-conscious as she felt.

"You found him," said Tullius, turning to face her and meeting her eyes, not flinching once. "I didn't know any of you people were still around. You know Talos-worship's a crime these days."

"Good thing I'm not praying to him right in front of you then," said Delphine. "But I'm not here about Talos. I'm here about dragons... and the Dragonborn."

"I'm not here to deal with dragons, Blade," said Tullius gruffly. "I'm here to win a war and get Skyrim back into the Empire where she belongs. I've got no time for Nord superstitions either."

"General, I've told you, the Dragonborn's far more than a superstition – there's not a Nord anywhere who would want to fight the Dragonborn," Rikke sighed wearily. "The Dragonborn's the ultimate Nord warrior – if we could track the Dragonborn down and persuade him to join us, it would be the ultimate weapon against Ulfric. There's not a Stormcloak out there who wouldn't start to doubt Ulfric if the Dragonborn were to join us."

"Ask him yourself then," said Delphine, standing aside. "He's right here."

Both Tullius and Rikke stared at Cicero as he strutted into view, flashing a grin at Rikke and then nodding at Tullius.

"That's the Dragonborn?" said Rikke in disbelief.

"That's me!" Cicero giggled. "Would you like me to Shout and prove it?"

"No!" said Delphine instantly, again wondering if bringing Cicero had been the best idea.

"You're not a Nord," said Tullius, frowning. Cicero shook his head.

"No, sir. Cicero isn't sure how it happened exactly, only that he killed a dragon and then the beast's soul flowed into him. Cicero's mother used to say her grandmother told her that an ancestor of hers worked as a servant for Pelagius the Mad and became the mother of his illegitimate child, but Cicero doesn't credit it at all."

"Your mother..." Tullius was staring at Cicero fiercely, some flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Hmm. I thought you looked familiar. Only one other person I ever knew had hair like that. One of the best commanding officers I ever had – Praefect Di Rosso. Shame she left the Legion – we could have used her in the Great War. Would you be her son, by any chance?"

Cicero had gone very still, and very pale even by his standards. "You knew my mother."

Tullius nodded. "Not well – I was a raw recruit, she was a ranking officer. But she was very good at her job, drove us hard but she made us the best and she had one of the finest tactical minds I've come across. I learned a lot from her. If she raised you... well, maybe you might be worth something."

Cicero smiled faintly. "Thank you, sir. Cicero tries his best. Alas he's not inherited her fine mind... but he has Delphine for that sort of thing." He took Delphine's hand in his, squeezing it gently and smiling at her.

"Even so, those are above average weapons and armour you have there, and you look like you're a man who knows how to use them," said Tullius, appraising Cicero very carefully indeed. "So, Cicero Di Rosso, what can I do for you and Delphine here? I assume neither of you are interested in joining up."

"Cicero's a fine warrior, but trust me, you do not want him in the Legion," said Delphine. "He's far too independent-minded to make a good soldier. Terrible at following orders." She shared a grin with Cicero, both of them knowing Cicero still had the marks from yesterday's punishment to prove just how terrible he was at behaving himself. "No, we're not here to fight. We're here to make you an offer. We need to deal with the dragon menace, but we can't do that with the civil war going on. So we had a word with the Greybeards and they've called a peace conference to discuss a truce. Will you come?"

"A peace conference?" Tullius stared at them both in disbelief, realising that they were in fact serious. "Are you seriously telling me to drop everything and trek all the way up the Throat of the World to talk terms on those old monks' say so?"

"General, those old monks are highly respected by every Nord in the Legion, and on the Stormcloak side too," said Rikke, pursing her lips. "Ulfric trained with them as a young man. If they've sent out a summons to discuss peace, we can't just ignore it. Not if you want your Nord soldiers to still respect you." She was leaning on the table, glaring fiercely at him in a way that hinted that by Tullius' Nord soldiers, she meant herself.

"My Nord soldiers will follow orders as always, Legate," Tullius shot back. Rikke glanced away, conceding that point at least.

"Of course, General," she said calmly. "But they want to believe they're doing the right thing by Skyrim in supporting the Empire. It'll harm their morale if you're seen to be defying the will of the Greybeards. General, if you want to win Skyrim, you can't just conquer her by force. You need the goodwill of her people too."

Tullius had to admit this was a fair point. "So what does Ulfric think of this summons then? Have you spoken to him yet?"

"He's already agreed to attend," said Delphine, trying not to look too smug at the incredulous looks on Tullius and Rikke's faces.

"Cicero only had to threaten him a little bit!" Cicero chimed in, looking delighted with himself. Rikke edged away nervously, one hand going for her sword hilt.

"Well now, that's put a rather different face on things," said Tullius thoughtfully. "I can't have it be said Ulfric's a more reasonable man than I am. All right, I'll attend. Legate, send word to Jarl Elisif. We'll leave tomorrow."

Delphine thanked Tullius and led Cicero out.

"We did it, we did it, we organised a peace conference!" he chorused, capering about merrily as they stepped out into the courtyard.

"Yes we did," said Delphine. "Of course, we've still got to hold the thing. Still plenty of things that could go wrong." Not least of which was the plain fact that Cicero as Dragonborn could well end up with some pivotal decisions to make during this conference. To say she was a little anxious about the whole thing was a bit of an understatement. But it was done now and there was little she could do about it. Besides, Cicero wasn't quite the liability he sometimes seemed. He'd challenged Ulfric and won, not just the fight but the man's respect. And now it seemed he'd helped influence Tullius simply because of who his mother had been. And the name...

"Are you really a Di Rosso?" she asked, taking his arm in hers and leading him towards the city gates.

Cicero shrugged. "Once. We in the Dark Brotherhood tend to leave our family names behind. The Brotherhood is all the family we need, and besides Cicero lost his blood mother years ago. He has no blood kin left to him – needs no blood kin. It's not a terribly distinguished family – humble Cicero has humble origins. He is surprised Delphine seems to know it." He was looking at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Dragon blood, Cicero," Delphine said gently. "The Blades were keeping watch for potential Dragonborns for years – looking for leaders, warriors, men and women with magic in their very voices. Our best candidate was a female Legion officer from Cyrodiil who came to light early on in her career, about twenty years before the Great War. Stelmaria Di Rosso."

Cicero's eyes widened as the implications hit home. "You mean – my mother – Dragonborn?"

Delphine nodded, unable to stop smiling. "That's right. Well, we were never entirely sure, but we suspected. I never met her myself, sadly. She'd already left the Legion by the time I joined up, but I heard of her and ironically, if the Blades hadn't seeded so many agents around her to keep an eye on her, I might never have been recruited myself. Would never have met you."

Cicero barely managed a smile at this. "Well, that's something. But Delphine, if the Blades thought her Dragonborn... where were they? Why did they never make contact? Why did she and I live alone in the Imperial City? Why did no one ever get me from that orphanage if I was a Dragonborn's son? Where were they when she died?" He'd grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes boring furiously into hers. He'd never really spoken about his family of birth and Delphine realised why. He must have adored his mother more than anything, and then to lose her so young... she should never have brought this up. But she had and she owed him answers.

"They tried, Cicero. She was too wary, too paranoid. I read the file once – they had her down as a brilliant maverick who was well-liked and respected, but who never really let anyone get close. Agents tried to talk to her, but she rebuffed them all. In the end it was decided to just monitor her and keep her safe as best we could, get as many Blades into her unit as possible to keep her out of trouble. It worked, while she was in the Legion anyway."

Cicero was nodding, sad smile on his face. "That sounds like her. You'd have liked her. Cicero only wishes you had met her. You might have reached her, and she would have had you to look after her. You'd never have let her die. Or at least you could have looked after poor Cicero afterwards. Poor motherless Cicero would not have minded you adopting him."

"Not sure that would have been such a good idea," said Delphine. "Not when said adopted Dragonborn son grew up into a handsome young man." Cicero giggled at this, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously and somehow Delphine got the feeling the idea of seducing his adoptive mother wouldn't have been at all displeasing to him. Quite the reverse.

"What happened after she left the Legion? Did no one follow her?" Cicero asked, the giggles subsiding.

"Of course they did," said Delphine. "Several of your neighbours were Blades agents. Took a while to track her down after she resigned, but we did eventually find her running a blacksmith forge... with a small boy in tow. Gods, you're Cicero Di Rosso, I had no idea. You were mentioned, you know! Not by name, but it said you were small for your age but very lively and quick-witted. With a warning that you had a somewhat violent streak and that other boys tended to avoid you."

"They liked to gang up on poor defenceless Cicero," Cicero pouted. "Mean they were to me, just because poor Cicero was always the smallest."

"And?" Delphine asked, raising an eyebrow, sure this was not the whole story. She was right. Cicero grinned back at her.

"The other boys may have liked to be cruel to me... but Cicero can be cruel too. They may have picked on me once... but no one ever did it twice!"

Frankly, Delphine wondered why she'd never pieced it all together before. If she'd ever met or seen a picture of Stelmaria, she'd probably have worked it out but as it was, the file she'd seen had never named Stelmaria's son and he really hadn't spoken about his childhood at all, not to her at any rate. Sounded like Eola might have found out a little more – she knew how his mother had died at least. Delphine cursed herself for not thinking to dig more – she'd asked after blood relatives, but he'd said they were all dead and the finality of his voice had convinced her it was a topic best left alone. He'd not been mentioned hugely in the Blades files either – he'd only been a boy after all. But what had been in there – she was a fool not to have seen it before, the personality was exactly the same. Small but bright fireball with very few scruples about causing pain to those who got in his way – that was her Cicero all right.

"We were right," she whispered. "Dragon blood, it was right there, we had it in our sights. Damn Titus Mede! If he'd not disbanded us, if we'd not had to all go into hiding, I swear someone would have come and got you, Cicero. We couldn't save your mother, we had all our warriors out in the field, all our agents near you were sleeper agents, merchants, townsfolk. But I promise if we'd been able, we'd have had you adopted as soon as the war finished. I'm so sorry, love."

"It is not your fault," said Cicero, having calmed down a little. He still looked sad, but this was an old wound, not a fresh one after all. "You did not kill Cicero's mother. You could not come and find me with the Thalmor after you. Besides, Cicero might never have joined the Dark Brotherhood if things had been different. Who knows what might have happened if someone less loyal, less devoted, had been left in charge of Mother? They might have hurt her. Abandoned her! And if Cicero had not been Keeper, you would never have been Listener! Maybe someone else, someone less capable, might have ended up as Listener. Or worse, no one would ever have been found. No Listener, ever, and Mother's voice unheard... No, no, this has worked out for the best."

Delphine had to laugh at that, even as Cicero looked baffled and wanted to know what was so funny. Only Cicero could compare a life lived in the Dark Brotherhood to one in which he might have had a new family and a life of relative ease and comfort, and decide the life he'd had was far better. Esbern was right – he was still the Night Mother's at heart. All was not lost. All they needed to do was get this conference over with, get Paarthurnax taken care of, and then... then he'd be all hers again. It was a tall order admittedly, but they'd taken on the impossible before and succeeded. All would be well. Taking Cicero's hand, she led him out of the city. The carriage to Whiterun awaited.

It was a long journey to Ivarstead, but relatively uneventful. As they finally walked into the Vilemyr Inn, Cicero and Delphine found themselves pounced on by Eola, who hugged Cicero half to death before giving Delphine a rather more restrained embrace.

"You got my note," said Delphine with a smile, pleased to see the young Reachwoman again.

"Sure did!" said Eola. She was dressed in the scaled armour she'd been wearing when Cicero first met her, eager not to attract attention by appearing anything more than a mercenary adventurer. "Esbern's here too – got him here in one piece, look."

Esbern glanced up from the corner table he was sitting at, smiling at Delphine, his expression only wavering a little to see Cicero. Cicero didn't seem to pay any heed, being too busy enthusing to Eola how he'd managed to get Tullius and Ulfric and Arngeir to agree to a peace conference. Delphine let him get on with it while she took Esbern aside.

"Esbern. Glad you could make it. I have a feeling we'll need you."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Esbern. "I'm rather looking forward to it. Just think! History in the making! The decisions that get made will have ramifications for an entire country, maybe even an entire Empire. Just getting Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius to be at the same table is an achievement. How in the world did you do it?"

"Hate to say it, Esbern, but Cicero was actually instrumental to the whole thing," Delphine admitted. "He made a few threatening statements to Ulfric, next thing any of us knew, the two of them were duelling it out. Needless to say, Cicero won and Ulfric had to honour his end of the bargain and agree to come. It was an impressive fight, you should have seen it!"

"I can imagine," said Esbern, glancing over to where Cicero was avidly demonstrating to Eola just how he'd nearly killed Ulfric Stormcloak. Given that the man had been responsible for getting her father imprisoned, Eola seemed rather pleased by the whole thing, commenting that she only wished Cicero had been able to finish the job.

"Then we had to see Tullius," Delphine continued, "and that wasn't so hard once we told him Ulfric had already said yes. But you'll never guess what I found out about Cicero. Esbern, he's Stelmaria's son! Cicero Di Rosso! She really was Dragonborn!"

That did get Esbern's attention. "Really? She really was...? Well now. That's something. To know we were on the right track at least. It's not really terribly important now of course, the woman is long dead, and we know her son is Dragonborn. But I agree, it's interesting to know. It's just a pity that when she died, we were in no position to do anything for Cicero. He'd be such a different man if we'd been able to take him back to Cloud Ruler Temple, raise him there as a Blade."

"I know," said Delphine softly. She'd not been able to stop thinking about how different everything would have been with Cicero brought to them after his mother's death. Cicero raised as a Blade, Cicero never joining the Brotherhood, never knowing the Night Mother, Cicero sane, maybe even a good and honourable man, although Delphine didn't want to get carried away. From the sounds of things, he'd been a violent little thing even back then. But she was sure they could have channelled that somehow. "Damn Thalmor. Damn Titus Mede!"

"We can't undo the past, Delphine," said Esbern, taking her hand in his own. "We can only work with what we've got. We found him eventually, Delphine, and he's a trained warrior. The fact that he got his training from the Dark Brotherhood, well, that's regrettable. Still, he has skills we can use... if we can trust him. Does he know we know yet?"

"No," said Delphine, feeling the familiar pang of guilt and sorrow that she got whenever she remembered there was a dragon on the Throat of the World. "Esbern, are you sure we need to do this? He's loyal, I'm sure of it. Nothing he's said or done since I found out has said anything but that he's devoted as he always was."

"Then he'll have no problem killing Paarthurnax," said Esbern quietly. "We can't take the risk, Delphine. We can't risk Alduin getting defeated, only for Paarthurnax to rise and take over where Alduin left off, and with Cicero at his side helping him. If Paarthurnax really can control his followers' minds, it's possible Cicero doesn't even know it's happening. We can't trust him. Not unless he kills Paarthurnax."

Delphine bowed her head. This wasn't going to go well... but she also knew Cicero was a Dark Brotherhood assassin to the core. He'd do as the Listener told him if nothing else. She just hoped his mind survived.

Much later and the inn was quiet. Esbern had turned in for the night, Cicero was talking quietly with the innkeeper – about what, Delphine had no idea but she suspected she probably didn't want to, and Delphine had stepped outside to get some air... only to find Eola already there, leaning against the rail and watching the Northern Lights.

"I'm sorry, did you want some privacy?" Delphine began to say, but Eola just glanced in her direction and smiled.

"I don't mind your company, Del. Join me if you like?"

Delphine did, leaning against the rail next to her, feeling that strange combination of nerves and pleasure that Eola's company always brought. She made sure she wasn't on Eola's blind side and made herself comfortable.

"Thanks for bringing Esbern. I appreciate it. Even if it weren't for, well, you know, I feel a lot better if he's not wandering Skyrim on his own."

"And there was me thinking you just couldn't wait to see me again," Eola laughed, mouth quirked in a smile that could almost be seen as teasing... but not quite.

"You're reliable and trustworthy," said Delphine, deciding not to rise to that particular bait. "Also you should be here for this, I think. The Reachmen should have a representative here, although I don't know if I really want you outed to everyone as Madanach's child. Might make things awkward in the future if you're ever caught on the job."

"Wouldn't it just," Eola grinned. "All right, I won't announce myself. You can just tell everyone I'm with you."

Delphine looked away, not wanting to see that look Eola got every so often, that hungry predator grin that kept flashing Delphine's way more often than she liked. Not that Delphine was scared of Eola, of course not... but Delphine had Cicero, and Cicero was possessive of what was his.

"You'd have made a good Blade," Delphine said. Apart from the cannibalistic Daedric rites, but one couldn't have everything.

"You'd make a terrible Namira worshipper," came the response right back. Delphine had to laugh at that.

Silence fell, a comfortable silence, not like being with Cicero where silence usually meant he was either asleep or up to something. It was nice to be able to just relax for a little while.

"So I spoke to Da," said Eola after a while. "He says you and him were talking about this whole peace conference, and it's likely the Reach is going to go Stormcloak."

"Probably, yes," Delphine sighed. "Ulfric will want something to persuade him to leave Whiterun alone. I'm sorry, Eola, I know it's probably the last thing you want."

Eola shrugged. "I leave the politics to Da. The Reach isn't in our hands now, having Ulfric's puppets running the show won't change that. It'll just make it easier to overthrow them in the end. Cicero and I killed one Silver-Blood. We can do the other if it comes to that."

"I don't think your father can afford a contract against him," said Delphine. Eola just grinned.

"I'll do him for free if I have to. That alright with you, Listener?"

"What you do in your spare time is up to you," said Delphine, knowing when to turn a blind eye. Eola's face lit up.

"You are an awesome leader, you know that, right?"

"I try," said Delphine, looking up at the stars. She wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but she'd do her best. As long as they got that truce.

Chapter End Notes

Next chapter - there will be a peace conference, and then Delphine's going to have to have a difficult conversation with Cicero.