Chapter Summary
Ulfric's laying siege to Markarth, blissfully unaware that the Dark Brotherhood have been laying siege to him. With the Dragonborn back and the Family reunited, it's time to show the world what they're made of.Chapter Notes
This is it, folks. Last chapter apart from the epilogue! Are you excited? I am.Chapter 37: Hail Sithis!
Ulfric roared in fury, picking up a tankard and hurling it across the tent. The courier who'd brought him the unwelcome news hastily ducked out, taking that as a dismissal, and Ulfric sat back down in his chair, seething. Moments later, one of his bodyguards slipped in to see what the fuss was about. Ulfric wasn't even aware of her until she was a foot away.
"Wha- what?" he snapped. "Did I send for you?"
"Forgive me, my lord," she replied, the soothing cadences of her voice calming Ulfric down a little. "We heard you shouting and thought one of us should check on you. Don't worry, my husband is still on watch. No one is getting past him in a hurry."
Ulfric smiled a little at her confidence. He liked her. Efficient, competent, extremely knowledgeable on all aspects of guarding against possible assassination, and her husband wasn't exactly a fool either. True Nords, both of them, and an asset to the Stormcloaks and indeed Skyrim. He had no idea where Delphine had found them both – she'd said they were a married couple working as freelance mercenaries but a recent injury to the wife had led them to seek somewhat less constantly violent employment while she recovered. He had no idea what the injury was, but she seemed fine from where he was standing. The bearskin garb suited her.
"Forgive me, Astrid," he said. "I've had some unsettling news from the Pale."
"Unsettling how?" Astrid asked, sounding concerned. "Nothing too serious, I hope, I have Family in Dawnstar."
"Skald the Elder's been murdered, along with one of my commanders," said Ulfric, his heart heavy. "The new Jarl's Brina Merilis, an ex-Legionnaire. She's not even a Nord. Another Hold I'll have to waste time and men retaking. Astrid, tell your family to either flee Dawnstar or join us now. It won't be pretty."
"I will," said Astrid softly. "I'm so sorry, my lord. Skald had been Jarl forever, I can hardly believe he's dead. Do we know who killed him?"
"No," said Ulfric, his face sombre. "But they're saying Dark Brotherhood. I'd be a fool not to be concerned. I laughed when Delphine told me my life might be in danger, you know. I only took you and Arnbjorn on as bodyguards because she looked so worried, I didn't want to upset her. Now though – good thing I said yes, hmm?"
"Indeed, my lord," said Astrid. "Don't worry, no one will get past us. We know how the Brotherhood work. If anyone can stop them, Arnbjorn and I can."
"I don't doubt it," Ulfric laughed. "Well, you should probably get back to your post. Don't want assassins sneaking in while your back's turned, do you?"
For some reason, Astrid seemed to find that idea hilarious. "I assure you, my lord, there's very little chance of that," she laughed. Still smiling, she took her leave and went to rejoin her husband.
"Today?" Tullius asked. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure," said Delphine, still exhausted from the hard ride it had taken to get here. Even with Shadowmere, it had still taken nearly an hour and a half to get here. Not long given Odahviing would be on his way back from Windhelm by now, and she needed to ride down to the Stormcloak camp outside Markarth. "By sunset tonight, Ulfric will be dead, the Stormcloaks will be annihilated, and Madanach will be swearing loyalty to the Empire. But I'll need your help to make it happen."
"You want me to help lift the siege, don't you?" Tullius sighed. "What happened to a minimum of bloodshed?"
"This is the minimum," said Delphine firmly. "Come on, you're right here in the Reach. All I need is for you to have your troops ready to attack the Stormcloaks and in position by midday. Then, well, just wait for the signal."
"And the signal is what, exactly?" Tullius asked. Honestly, the Dark Brotherhood he knew just took the money and the target's details and got on with it. None of this requesting assistance business. Mind you, he supposed most clients didn't have an army at their disposal.
"A giant red dragon landing in the middle of the Stormcloak camp and laying waste to it," said Delphine.
"A what?" Tullius cried. Behind Delphine, Rikke walked in to the tent, having heard a woman in Blade armour had turned up and not wanting to leave the General alone with the Dark Brotherhood's leader if she could help it.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"I was just outlining the final phase of the job to the General here," said Delphine smoothly.
"She says she's going to land a dragon in the midst of the Stormcloak camp and wants us to attack while it's there!" said Tullius, fully expecting Rikke to dismiss the idea as ridiculous and ask Delphine to leave. She surprised him.
"Really?" Rikke breathed, looking at Delphine in a whole new light. "You can do that?"
Delphine just smiled. "The Dark Brotherhood can do anything if it needs to badly enough. Yes, we're going to drop a dragon on Ulfric. Along with a few human assassins to make sure he doesn't escape in the chaos. We need you to attack at the same time to make things interesting."
"Oh, consider it done!" Rikke laughed. "I wouldn't miss that for the world!" She stopped and looked sheepishly at Tullius. "Er, with your approval, of course, General."
Tullius sighed, still trying to get his head around the concept of being able to arrange or predict a dragon attack.
"All right, fine, I'll get the men ready. But if midday comes and goes and there's no dragon, they're not going anywhere."
Delphine smiled. "Thank you, General. I promise you this will be a day to remember."
Ulfric looked up, expecting Galmar or possibly Astrid fussing again. He'd not expected Delphine.
"This is an unexpected surprise," he said, watching her curiously as she made her way over. She looked tense and more than a little unhappy. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"There's a Dark Brotherhood contract out on you," she said, with no preamble or warning. Well, Ulfric had suspected that much from the way his Jarls had been wiped out. No matter. He'd deal with the bastards when they struck.
"And?" he asked. "Am I supposed to be afraid? Let them come. Astrid and Arnbjorn are more than a match for them, and I am not easy prey."
Delphine smiled, her eyes sad. "I know. But they're coming for you. I don't think you'll win, not this time. They're strong. And you've been betrayed."
Ulfric tried to ignore the prickling sensation on the back of his neck. "There are no traitors in my camp. My people are true Nords all. None of them would betray me."
"No," said Delphine softly, drawing her katana. "They wouldn't. It's me, Ulfric. I betrayed you. I've been the leader of the Dark Brotherhood since just after the Dragonborn was first called. Astrid and Arnbjorn are two of my assassins and they're busy right now ensuring no one interrupts while I get this over with."
"You are not serious," Ulfric whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face. He saw the look in her eyes, the sadness there and knew it was true. Fortunately his own sword was at hand, an ebony one with a powerful leeching enchantment on it. It had killed a High King. It would kill the Brotherhood's leader just as easily, even if she was a friend. Had been, he corrected himself. She had been a friend. Now, she was just an enemy.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, curious. It wasn't like the Brotherhood to announce their presence after all.
"Because I still have some honour left," said Delphine with a shrug. "And because you deserve a shot at Sovngarde. Cicero tells me it's nice."
"Yes," Ulfric growled. "But I think you'll be seeing the afterlife first. FUS RO DAH!"
The Shout sent Delphine flying, crashing into the tent's central pole and slumping to the ground, dazed by the impact. She shook her head, willing her vision to hurry up and clear. Of course, that did mean she could now see Ulfric advancing, sword out and ready to strike.
"Did you forget you were up against a warrior with the Thu'um?" Ulfric laughed. "Did killing merchants and old men and drunks make you overconfident?"
"That old man was an Emperor," Delphine gasped. "And have you forgotten I'm married to the Dragonborn?"
Ulfric raised an eyebrow. "You married the madman? Allow me to congratulate you both. Sad you'll be parted so soon – I'll make sure to send him some weregild." He swung his sword down – and Delphine's katana deflected the strike.
"I haven't made it official yet. But you can consider the Dragonborn mine," she said, rolling to one side and staggering to her feet, bracing herself for the next blow. Ulfric hit back, again and again, forcing her back as she parried, until she was right at the side of the tent.
"Where is your Dragonborn now?" Ulfric gloated, raising his sword to strike her down. It was at that precise moment the ground shook and a dragon roared. Outside, Delphine heard Astrid shout "What in the name of Sithis – oh. It's you. She's in there."
"That'll be him," said Delphine calmly. "I recommend ducking." She threw herself to the ground not a moment too soon.
"FUS RO DAAAAHHHH!" It wasn't Cicero. The hurricane gale of Unrelenting Force as used by someone who'd never needed teaching any Shout tore through the tent and send it flying, leaving them exposed to the air. Ulfric staggered back, only partially protected by his own knowledge of the Shout. Blinking, he looked up to see one of his two elite bodyguards drawing that odd dagger of hers and chasing down some of his men while screaming "Hail Sithis!", the other changing into a werewolf, Madanach's daughter in red and black armour and a Forsworn headdress blasting magic at anyone who came close, a ghost stabbing one of his soldiers and moving on to the next before she even knew she was dead, and the Dragonborn himself, dual-wielding two blades, one golden fiery one and his lightning katana, and staring wild-eyed at Ulfric, looking absolutely delighted.
"Ulfric!" Cicero giggled. "Cicero has good news! You're going to see your father again!"
Ulfric barely noticed. All his attention was focused on the red dragon at Cicero's side. The beast was smiling.
"He's all yours, Odahviing!" Delphine cried. Odahviing chuckled and leaped forward. Ulfric tried to strike back, but the angle was wrong and the sword barely scratched Odahviing's scales. Odahviing did not make the same mistake. Snatching Ulfric between his teeth and biting down, he took to the air. Ulfric's screams got fainter as the dragon soared into the sky then stopped abruptly as the dragon wheeled above Markarth and abruptly let him fall. A hundred foot drop on to a solid stone city would not have been kind and in the highly unlikely event of Ulfric surviving that, the Forsworn garrisoning the walls would certainly finish the job.
Cicero ran to her side, helping her to her feet.
"Listener," he cried, eyes dancing with joy. "Did we do well?"
Delphine looked at him, bloodthirsty, insane, beautiful and hers, all hers. Her Dragonborn.
"Yes," she laughed. "Yes, you were perfect. Cicero, I still need something from you though!"
"Anything, Listener! Anything you like!" Cicero said cheerfully, dancing on the spot, utterly unfazed by the chaos and death rapidly erupting around them as four assassins set to work and the first ever dragon member of the Dark Brotherhood came back for another pass, breathing fire all over the place.
"I need a Keeper!" Delphine cried, raising her voice to be heard above the carnage. "For me, not the Night Mother! Want the job?"
Cicero stopped dancing, balancing on one foot and somehow managing not to fall over.
"Listener... is serious?" he asked, seemingly disbelieving. Delphine nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he'd changed his mind? An awful lot of things had happened since then, and while she didn't doubt Cicero's loyalty or his love, he didn't seem anything like as needy since his return.
She needn't have worried. Next thing she knew, Cicero had launched himself into her arms and was kissing her, fingers entwining in her hair as he squeezed her tight. Finally he let her go, looking almost delirious in his joy.
"Yes!" he cried. "Yes, I'll be your Keeper! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" He kissed her again and then let her go, taking her hands in his.
"Thank you," he said, grinning all over and simultaneously looking like he was about to cry. "Delphine, sweetling, Cicero loves you and – and – he'll be the best Keeper ever!"
"I love you too," said Delphine, stroking his cheek. "Now let's get off this battlefield. I think the reinforcements just turned up."
Sure enough, Imperial banners were visible in the distance as a tide of red swept down the Karth valley and into the Stormcloak camp.
"Brotherhood!" Delphine shouted, pausing only to pick up Ulfric's dropped sword. "After me! Make for Markarth!"
It was difficult to be heard above the din, but Eola and Lucien had been briefed on the plan beforehand and Astrid soon followed. Arnbjorn, given over to the beast as he was, was a harder prospect, but even a beast still recognises its mate and on seeing Astrid retreating, he finished ripping apart the Stormcloak officer he'd been dealing with and loped after.
The six of them, one jester, one Blade, one ghost, one Dark Brotherhood assassin making full use of her Stormcloak outfit to get close to her victims, one werewolf and a Forsworn princess cheerfully raising corpses and blasting people out of her path with a Daedric artefact, carved their way through the Stormcloak ranks, dodging dragon fire and Imperial arrows, leaving a trail of death and devastation in their wake. Many would be the traumatised Stormcloak war veterans in the months and years to come who at least would never need to buy a drink again as they told the tale of grown men ripped to pieces or cut down before they knew what killed them then rising to turn on their former comrades, or death descending with a smile and a laugh and a song of "when the jester met dear Ulfric, a dragon's fire was the murder culprit! Heeheehee!"
It was all going quite well until they reached what had been the Stormcloak front line but was now more like the Stormcloak last stand. Arnbjorn took the lead with Lucien, Astrid just behind with Cicero and Delphine falling in next to her, and Eola bringing up the rear, laughing and shrieking Forsworn battle cries with the odd invocation to Namira thrown in. It was going well right up until Galmar Stone-Fist surged out from the melee, chasing up from behind.
"Skyrim belongs to the Nords!" he roared, battleaxe raised. Eola turned from dealing with the soldier she'd been roasting alive and raised her hands too late. The axe sunk into her back and she collapsed to the ground, blood spurting everywhere.
Delphine had also turned just in time to see her fall.
"NO!" she shrieked, racing back. Before Galmar's axe could fall a second time and finish the job, Delphine's katana stabbed into his chest and the ebony sword from Ulfric into Galmar's gut. Galmar didn't even stand a chance as Delphine hacked him to pieces without mercy. She kept slashing at him until Astrid grabbed her arms, hauling her back and telling her, yes, great kill, he was definitely dead, leave it and run!
Delphine nodded tearfully, turning to look at Eola. Her eyes were fluttering, blood was everywhere and she looked horribly pale. Cicero had dropped back to kneel next to her, his own face pale. Slowly he looked up and Delphine couldn't even begin to work out what was in his eyes. He looked devastated – and then he seemed to rally.
"Listener, go," he said. "I'll bring Eola. SOS FRON DAAL!"
Delphine hadn't heard that Shout before, had no idea where he'd learnt it, and was amazed to see the ghostly figure of a Legionnaire materialise. A rather short, female Legionnaire who, when she turned to the oncoming Stormcloaks, grinned in a way that made her look exactly like Cicero.
"Fight me, will you?" she cried. "The mother of a dragon? YOL TOOR SHUL!"
A jet of ghostly dragon fire came from her, halting the Stormcloaks in their tracks. Delphine could barely believe her eyes, but there was no time. Astrid was dragging at her arm, Arnbjorn was clearing a path for them up ahead and Lucien had dropped back to help Cicero. All she could do was fight on and hope the Dragonborn knew what he was doing.
Cicero stared down at Eola, heart in his mouth. The wound was deep, her skin was growing cold, he was losing her and even Hag magic wouldn't fix this. But a Daedra might... He slipped Namira's Ring off his finger and on to Eola's and reached for Galmar's corpse, dragging the arm to Eola and patting her cheek in an attempt to rouse her.
"Look, sister, fresh-killed Nord! Your favourite!"
Eola stirred at the smell of blood, especially when Cicero sliced the arm open for her. Whimpering, Eola began to eat. Cicero felt tears in his eyes as the wound began to heal and Eola's strength returned. Stelmaria and Lucien were fighting side by side, keeping the enemy off them, Odahviing was circling overhead with dragon fire toasting the unfortunate, and they were within firing range of the city walls now too, with Forsworn casters sending fireballs everywhere. When one passed a little too close for comfort, Cicero decided enough was enough and scooped Eola up in his arms. The wound might have healed, but she'd lost a lot of blood and was still very pale.
"I hadn't finished!" Eola cried.
"Hussy, we're going," Cicero hissed. "Satisfy your depraved cravings later. WULD!"
The Whirlwind Sprint swept them forward, and a Shout of "WULD NAH KEST!" brought Stelmaria alongside then in front of them, her sword dealing with anyone daring to get in the way of her precious son.
"That's not Lucien," said Eola faintly. "That's a lady. Who's she?"
"My mother," said Cicero proudly, frankly in awe of the way she was carving up the few Stormcloaks still standing after Arnbjorn, Delphine and Astrid had passed through.
"You've got a ma?" Eola gasped, astonished. "I thought you'd just hatched one day and emerged in your jester outfit, ready to kill things!"
"Oh be quiet," said Cicero, rolling his eyes as Markarth's gates loomed up ahead. Astrid and Delphine were huddled in the stone porch, shaking the doors while Arnbjorn stood guard against any Stormcloak foolish enough to come close. The defenders on the walls were screaming abuse at those who did. Stelmaria stabbed one Stormcloak in the back, hit another with her shield, and Cicero took a deep breath and breathed fire all over a whole knot of them blocking the way. Lucien had also caught up by this time and with a few flicks of his dagger had left one poor man disembowelled and drowning in his own blood.
With the ghosts following, Cicero broke free and sprinted across the no man's land before the gates to where Delphine was waiting, Astrid by her side with Blade of Woe at the ready. As Cicero raced up the steps, he heard the sweetest sound he'd ever heard – Madanach's voice from the battlements above screaming, "OPEN THE GATES – HE HAS MY DAUGHTER!"
The gates swung open. Astrid ripped off the bearskin helmet, correctly deducing that a Nord in full Stormcloak commander get up would not exactly be terribly welcome in a Forsworn run city, and ran in, fists clenched in the Forsworn peace gesture. Arnbjorn, his beast form fading as he shifted back, sprinted in after her. His Stormcloak gear had been left behind when he changed – of course, that did now mean he was stark naked. He didn't seem to care.
Delphine was standing at the gate, hand held out.
"Is she all right?" she cried. Cicero forced himself to smile.
"She lives. Her goddess healed her."
Delphine did smile a little at that. "Well, that's appropriate. In, both of you."
Cicero ran inside to find Astrid and Arnbjorn surrounded by unamused Forsworn warriors and one very big Orc.
"You've got some nerve coming into our city dressed like that, Nord," Borkul growled at Astrid. To her credit, she glared right back.
"I was undercover!" Astrid snapped. "If you could possibly find my Shrouded Armour, I'll happily get changed!"
"Let them be, they're with me," said Delphine, coming up behind them as the gate clanged shut. She came to stand next to Cicero, one hand on his shoulder but her attention was on Eola as her other hand stroked her face.
"You're alive. Thank the gods," Delphine gasped, smiling in relief.
"Mama Del," Eola whispered back. "Thank Namira and Cicero, they saved my life."
Delphine did look up then, turning that smile on Cicero. "Thank you, Keeper mine."
"You're welcome," said Cicero, although he felt anything but welcoming right then.
"Delphine!" That was Madanach, down from the walls and rushing towards them. "Why is there a naked man and a Stormcloak woman in my city? And Eola, sweet gods, Eola, are you alright?"
"Da!" Eola gasped, reaching out to her father. Madanach might be getting old, but he was no weakling, as proved by him taking her off Cicero without breaking a sweat.
"Madanach," said Delphine brightly. "We've killed Ulfric. These two are with me. Have you still got that chest of Shrouded Armour I left you to look after?"
"Sure, sure, it's in the inn. Borkul, get these two inside and into something a bit more appropriate?"
Borkul growled and motioned for the two assassins to follow him into the former Silver-Blood Inn, now renamed the Hag's Rest. Madanach hesitated for a second, Eola still cradled in his arms.
"Thank you, Delphine," he said. "For all of this. I don't even mind the siege, I'm just..."
"It's alright," said Delphine softly. "You're a good friend and I owe you for protecting our Sanctuary. I just think a Reach-King can do a better job, that's all."
Madanach did smile at that. "When this is all sorted and my city set to rights, come see me again, you and your man here. I might have a proposition of my own for you. In the mean time, make yourselves at home. I've got a daughter to tend to."
He turned and followed Borkul into the Hag's Rest, stopping only to make way as Astrid and Arnbjorn raced out, looking far more like themselves in their Shrouded Armour, masked cowls hiding their Nord features, bows at the ready, presumably intending to join the archers on the walls.
"Hail Sithis!" some of the Forsworn called out cheerfully as the two assassins passed them.
"Send some Stormcloaks to the Void for us!" called another.
Astrid turned to Arnbjorn. "I really like this city!" she purred.
"We'll have a second honeymoon here," Arnbjorn promised. "Now let's get up those stairs and get some killing done." He squeezed Astrid's bottom, and the Dark Brotherhood Speaker actually squeaked.
"You naughty boy," she laughed, running off, her husband in tow. Delphine smiled and took Cicero's hand in hers. He looked up at her, smiling faintly, but his eyes looked half-dead. Now that was worrying. Eola was safe and likely to survive, they'd all made it back safely, and the job was done. She'd expect him to be chin-deep in post-kill euphoria by this time. Squeezing his hand, she led him inside the inn.
Once in, she picked her way over the makeshift infirmary that had been set up in the main room and after a few false starts, finally located an empty bedroom. She closed the door and turned to look at Cicero.
"Are you alright? You don't look so good. After all that blood and death, I'd expect you to be singing and dancing non-stop around now."
Cicero was standing with his arms folded, leaning against the table. Slowly he lifted his eyes up to meet hers, and he looked heartbroken.
"Eola told me," he said, his voice rough and haggard. "She told me how she felt about you. She told me she'd made... advances."
Delphine felt her skin prickle, a chill sweeping down her back. Eola had told him? What had possessed her? And how on earth had Cicero had sufficient self-control not to stab her? More than that, they were clearly still friends.
"But you just saved her life," Delphine whispered. "And earlier... you were all over me. Why...?"
"Why didn't I lose my temper and stab her, you mean?" Cicero laughed bitterly. "Oh Listener, I nearly did. But I calmed down in the end and forgave her. She is a brazen little Listener-stealing hussy, but she is still Cicero's sister."
Well, that was something. But while Cicero may have forgiven Eola, it didn't look like he was going to be so charitable with her.
"Cicero, I swear, I don't know what she said, and she did kiss me, it's true," said Delphine, starting to panic. She couldn't lose him already, not her darling Dragonborn. She'd only just got him back! "But I turned her down. Cicero, I'm in love with you, it's you I want to marry! You're my Dragonborn, my Keeper, you've been there since the start, I don't know what I'd do without you now!"
"You'd be Listener," said Cicero softly. "And a very good one. Delphine, she gave poor Cicero to understand that – that you turned her down because you missed your Fool of Hearts. She did not tell me..." Here he broke off, tears starting to fall. "She did not tell me you felt the same," he managed to get out before letting out a sob. Turning away, he stood with his back to her, hands resting on the stone table and clenching into fists.
Delphine closed her eyes. He truly did notice everything. The worst thing was, she couldn't even deny it. Oh she had done for a long time, told herself she just admired Eola's skills or her bravery or her mind, just enjoyed Eola's company. Ignored the way Eola's smile made her heart flutter, or the way her Forsworn armour had shown her off, denied that she'd come up with the idea of an independent Reach for any reason other than that having a Reach-King in her debt was a useful thing indeed. Denied that the idea of Thongvor Silver-Blood groping Eola had sent her into a jealous rage. Right up until Eola had kissed her and she'd enjoyed it and wanted more. Oh, she wanted Eola in her bed alright. But not if the price was Cicero.
"Cicero, it's not like that," she whispered. "I love you, I turned her down for you, it's you I want, please."
"Don't give me that!" Cicero cried, sounding agonised. "Cicero has eyes! He saw! He remembers how you told him you butchered an entire Thalmor death squad when they killed Hoag, he saw it again today. When the Stone-Fist cut her down and you... you cut him to pieces. Astrid had to drag you away. Cicero saw, Listener. And when Cicero brought Eola back here – he saw the way you looked at her. Like you looked at him after the battle in the Ragged Flagon. Cicero knows you, Delphine. He knows."
"Cicero, please," Delphine whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – you were gone and she was there."
"Cicero thinks there has been something there between you for rather longer than that," he said roughly.
Delphine couldn't deny it. "What are you going to do?" she asked. Please don't leave me, please, I love you, don't...
"I don't know," said Cicero. "Just tell me the truth." He did finally look up then, tears on his cheeks, haunted look in his eyes. "Do you love her?"
Delphine closed her eyes, feeling her heart breaking. She couldn't lie to him though. She owed him the truth.
"Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I love her. Cicero, I'm sorry, please don't go, you're my Keeper, I love you, please!" He'd placed his hand over his eyes, shaking all over as he let out another sob.
"Thank you for telling me at least," he finally whispered. "Cicero understands. He shall go now. You won't see me again."
"Cicero!" she cried. No, no, not like this, he'd been back for four hours if that, she wasn't letting him go without a fight. "No, damn you, you're my Keeper, you said you would be, I'm ordering you as Listener, stay with me!" She grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a little shake. He looked up, eyes blazing.
"How can I?" he cried. "The Keeper of the Listener's job is to serve his Listener and make her happy! Well, Eola makes you happy! Eola makes you happy and Cicero is in the way!"
"You're not!" Delphine cried out, not even caring about the tears on her own cheeks. "You're not, how can you say that, I'm falling apart at the thought of you leaving. I'm sorry, please, don't go, I'll send Eola away to Dawnstar or Windhelm, you won't have to worry about me being tempted. It's you I want, Cicero. Please believe me."
"Don't send her away," said Cicero softly. "Cicero would miss her."
"So would I," said Delphine. "But for you, I'd do it." She closed her eyes, hating herself, trying desperately to ignore the voice inside screaming at being forced to choose.
"Don't," she heard Cicero whisper, sounding absolutely miserable. "Sweetling, don't. I hate seeing you like this. My lovely, I will stay if you order it, but I can't... oh Listener, this is impossible! If Cicero goes, Delphine is miserable. If Cicero stays, he won't be able to have Eola around because Delphine will be miserable at not being able to have her. Maybe she will be miserable anyway. Eola certainly will be. Cicero doesn't like seeing her unhappy either."
"I'm sorry," said Delphine, reaching out and pulling him into her arms. He didn't resist, sliding his arms around her and nestling into her shoulder like always. He felt so very right, and Delphine couldn't let him go, she just couldn't. But her mind kept flitting back to Eola, a memory of being pushed back into her chair, strong young arms and legs around her, those beautiful breasts near her face and then Eola's lips on hers. Damn if she didn't want more of that. The prospect of having an attractive young woman wanting her and not being able to do anything about it hurt.
"I wish I could have you both," she said softly. "But I can't, and if I have to choose, well, you need me more."
Cicero hugged her back, saying nothing for a few moments. Then he let her go.
"Cicero is still your Keeper, yes?" he said. Delphine nodded, wondering where this was going. He was looking very thoughtful.
"And... Delphine does not object to Cicero entertaining himself with Lucien now and then when you are otherwise engaged?"
"Be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn't it now?" said Delphine. "Sure, if I'm not around, go ahead but my orders take priority, understand?"
"Understood," said Cicero, a smile beginning to form. "Cicero wants a wedding. Soon. Proper wedding, legally binding, flowers, rings, all the Brotherhood in attendance – maybe not Odahviing – but everyone else. Nice reception with the mead flowing. Cicero as Delphine's lawful wedded husband, yes?"
"That's what I had in mind," said Delphine. "Cicero, where is this going?"
"Come with me, Listener!" Cicero trilled, suddenly cheerful again. Sliding behind her, he opened the door and skipped out into the corridor, humming tunelessly to himself. Delphine followed, not surprised to see him make straight for the private room Eola had been given.
"Hussy, wake up!" he cried, flinging the door open. Eola looked up wearily.
"What?" she snapped. "I'm wounded! Let me sleep!"
"No no, this cannot wait. This is a matter of dire importance!" Cicero cried. "Listener, come here."
"Eola, I'm really quite sorry about this," Delphine said as Cicero hauled her into the room, making her sit by Eola's bed.
"That's quite alright, I know he's insane," Eola sighed. "If Bothela comes back and finds you both here disturbing my rest, she's going to give you quite the piece of her mind, you know."
"Cicero is perfectly sane!" said Cicero firmly. "But he is not staying, no. He is leaving in a moment. He..." Cicero faltered, then he walked forward, took Delphine's hand in his and then Eola's in his other hand.
"Understand this well, sister," he said sternly to Eola. "Cicero is marrying the Listener and serving as her Keeper." Then he smiled at her. "But Cicero does not think he would be here today or have a Listener at all without you. So seeing as you apparently love the Listener and the Listener loves you too... Cicero can share. Don't hurt her." Taking a deep breath, he placed Eola's hand in Delphine's and folded their fingers over each other before letting go and walking out while both women were too shocked to react. The door clanged shut behind him as he made his way out.
"Did that just happen?" Eola asked, trying to reconcile that gesture with the look in Cicero's eyes in Dawnstar as he'd screamed and tried to stab her.
"I think so, yes," said Delphine, still trying to wrap her head around what had just transpired. "Eola, I'm really sorry, I appreciate this is all rather sudden and you honestly don't have to go along with this if you don't want-"
"Do you want?" Eola asked, tracing her fingers up Delphine's arm, and suddenly Delphine began to feel like she was wearing far too many clothes.
"Talos, yes," Delphine gasped.
"Then stop talking and come here," Eola laughed, reaching up and pulling Delphine down for a kiss. Delphine gasped and then gave in as Eola proved herself to be an excellent kisser. Not only that, it turned out that under the bed fur, Eola was naked, her armour off being mended.
"Sweet Sithis," Delphine breathed, transfixed by the sight of Eola's nipples hardening before her eyes.
"Never mind me, get that damn armour off," Eola growled in Delphine's ear. Delphine started removing the gauntlets, or at least she did until she heard the scream from the bar.
"MOTHER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET AWAY FROM HIM AT ONCE!"
"Mother?" Delphine asked, alarmed and preparing to leave in order to find out just what Cicero was up to now.
"The lady Legionnaire ghost is his ma," said Eola. "Weird, no?"
"He's got a mother," said Delphine faintly. "Oh Talos, does that mean I've got a mother-in-law?"
"Afraid so," Eola smirked. "Good thing you took care of that problem on my side – there's still Da but he's a big softy really and he likes you."
"Oh don't be ridiculous, Cicero," a cut-glass Imperial City accent floated down the corridor towards them. "Your friend here is perfectly charming. Why, he's been a complete gentleman the entire time."
"HE IS NOT A GENTLEMAN, HE IS A BAD BAD MAN! LUCIEN, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED NEAR MY MOTHER! CICERO FORBIDS IT!"
"Oh dear," Delphine whispered, barely able to contain her giggles. "Do you think I should go out there and sort it out?"
"No," said Eola firmly. "They're his spectral bodyguards, he can deal with them. Now get down here, I'm ill and in dire need of a Listener's mouth on my nipple."
Now that was something Delphine could happily assist with. Shedding her Blades armour, she rolled Eola on to her back and finally gave in to temptation, moaning softly as she lavished Eola's breasts with kisses, sliding a thigh in between the other woman's legs and letting the world outside in general and a high-strung jester with mother issues in particular deal with its own problems.
It was about an hour later when Delphine finally re-emerged, rearranging her armour and retying her hair. Eola had still been weak and not up for a lot but determined to make up for lost time, hauling Delphine on top of her and fingering, sucking and licking until she'd got her Listener off. Delphine had just cuddled her back, a little afraid to do too much to someone who was still weakened, but Eola hadn't seemed to mind. Soon she'd drifted off to sleep, so Delphine had tucked her up in bed and left her to it. Time to find out how Cicero was doing.
She found him outside the inn, leaning in the doorway. The bombardment had stopped, the sounds of battle finally over. The silence was eerie. Various casualties were still being brought in to the inn, and the clean-up job had already started, but the city itself wasn't looking too bad. Dwemer construction stood up to all sorts. Odahviing could be seen perching on top of the Temple of Dibella, dozing in the sun, and Delphine suspected her other two assassins had found a private corner somewhere to do a little celebrating of their own. But right now, her main concern was the man in front of her.
"Cicero," she said softly. "How are you doing?"
He just smiled sadly, leaning up and kissing her on the cheek.
"Adjusting," was all he said. "You are still my Listener?"
"Yes," said Delphine, putting an arm around him. "Always."
Cicero snuggled up against her, looking a little happier at this.
"Good," he breathed. "Cicero is sorry, Listener. He was angry at Eola when she first told him because he was scared that her and you falling in love would mean Cicero had no Listener any more, and she knew, she knew I adore you. Then Eola told him you'd said no, and that was better because at least it meant Cicero had hope, and then you took me back and Cicero was the happiest fool alive. But he didn't know you loved her too and he can't stand in the way of you being happy, he can't. So he won't. Eola doesn't need to worry, Cicero won't hurt her. He loves his sister too, not like he loves you, Listener, but she is very dear to him."
"I should hope so," said Delphine, feeling a cold shiver down her spine at the thought of anything hurting Eola. "You raise a knife to her again, and unless there's a damn good explanation, you're out, no arguments."
Cicero whimpered, clinging on to her. "No, Listener, never, Listener!" he cried. "Cicero would never harm her!"
"You'd better not," Delphine said sternly. "As it is, you're still in trouble. She may have forgiven you, I personally think you need reminding of your place."
Cicero nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, Cicero needs reminding," he whispered. "He's been all alone without his Listener's guidance for too long, too long! Cicero fears he's in dire need of stern corrective measures. Lucien is skilled but he was never a Listener."
"You've been with Lucien since you were gone?" said Delphine, narrowing her eyes. "You little hypocrite!"
"It is not the same!" Cicero cried. "Cicero does not love Lucien, and even if he did, he is still the Listener's! You know that, Delphine!"
Delphine moved, pinning him up against the stone wall of the inn so she could whisper in his ear.
"I think I'm going to need a little demonstration of that," she murmured. "And when we get back to the Sanctuary, you will be going to our little playroom, undressing and waiting for me on your knees. When I'm ready, I will find you, and then you are going to learn just whose you are, Cicero."
"Yours, yours, I'm yours!" Cicero gasped, squirming against her. She could feel him through his armour, hard and yearning for her. Gods, she'd missed him. Yes, it had been very nice indeed having Eola's fingers in her cunt and her mouth on her breasts, but she had a feeling Eola would never be quite this yielding, never crave the pain and subservience Cicero did. Congratulations, Cicero, I think you might be more perverted than the priestess of Namira is.
"Excellent," Delphine breathed. "Because you're going to get a very solid reminder of that fact when I string you up and get the cat o' nine tails out."
Cicero actually sobbed a little at that. "That one really hurts!" he whimpered.
"I know," Delphine whispered, nipping his ear. "But you need it, because you've been a very bad boy, disappearing like that. If I'm to have you under my command, then you need to understand the consequences of displeasing me, wouldn't you say?"
Cicero nodded tearfully. "Yes, Listener. Thank you, Listener. You are too good to your humble fool, Listener."
"Far too good," Delphine murmured. "Once I'm convinced you're feeling properly ashamed of yourself, then, Dragonborn, I think I might take you to my bed and enjoy you. Does that sound appealing?"
"Yes," Cicero gasped. "Oh yes. Sithis, Delphine, I've missed you."
"I missed you too," said Delphine softly. She kissed him full on the lips, gently at first but then increasingly deeply as she ground up against him, feeling him writhing beneath her. She lost herself in the feel of it, of Cicero's lips under hers once more and her arms around him. She'd missed this.
Finally, she let him go, smiling. There was a long road ahead of them, she had no idea where she and Eola were going to end up, and who knew what the future held. It would be fun finding out though.
She glanced around, noticing a strange lack of spectral bodyguards.
"So where is Lucien then? And you've gained the ability to summon your mother from the dead?"
Cicero nodded, grinning. "Cicero's mother was Dragonborn! And she died a warrior's death and got to go to Sovngarde! Cicero saw her there and fought Alduin with her, and she looked after him and..." The smile faded as he sniffled at the memory. "Cicero cried when he saw her again. Cicero loved her so very much and still does. But he couldn't stay in Sovngarde, and Mama couldn't bear the thought of never seeing her Cicero again. So she made a new Thu'um for me to use that would call her back. I can use it if I need her to fight for me or just to talk. It doesn't last that long, just an hour or so, but that is more than Cicero has had in thirty years nearly. Only Cicero needs to be careful not to summon her while Lucien is around. After Cicero left you with Eola, he walked in on the vile pervert kissing her hand!" Cicero looked furious at the mere idea.
"Cicero, he has done a lot worse than that to you and me both," Delphine felt obliged to point out.
"Yes," Cicero hissed. "I know. Which is why Cicero sent the disgusting philanderer back to the Void and will not be summoning the two of them together ever again." He shivered viscerally at the mere idea of Lucien and Stelmaria together. Delphine could see why, to be fair to him.
"Am I going to get to meet her?" Delphine asked, part hopeful, part very nervous indeed. Cicero grinned.
"Of course! SOS FRON DAAL!"
The air shimmered silver and then Stelmaria Di Rosso stepped back into the world, looking about her and nodding in satisfaction to see Markarth quiet and the battle apparently over. Her eyes fell on Delphine and hardened a little, but they didn't get any softer when they passed over Cicero.
"Cicero!" she said sternly. "You stabbed that poor man! And he was meant to be your friend!"
"Do not feel sorry for him!" Cicero cried. "I assure you, he very rarely feels sorry about anything!"
"He was being perfectly sweet and harmlessly talking to me, there was no need for you to leap on his back and stick your daggers in him! Certainly not fifteen times anyway."
Delphine just about managed to stifle a laugh. Only fifteen times – Cicero had been holding back then.
"Mother, he is Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, he is not sweet or harmless!" Cicero sighed, throwing up his arms in despair.
"Well, I liked him," said Stelmaria, huffing.
"He's a murderer!" Cicero cried.
"So are you, and I still love you," said Stelmaria as if that sealed it, and honestly Cicero had no real comeback for that one, so he beckoned Delphine forward.
"Mother, this is the Listener, sweet Delphine," he said hesitantly. "Delphine... this is my mother. Stelmaria."
Stelmaria regarded Delphine coolly and Delphine began to feel rather uncomfortable. Cicero's eyes most definitely and a hint of that same cruelty, but far more focused and saner, none of the frivolity that made Cicero so loveable.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Stelmaria," said Delphine. "I've heard so much about you."
"From my son or my Blades file?" said Stelmaria coldly. "Yes, I've heard of you, Blademistress. Couldn't get me so you went for my son instead, I see."
Blademistress? Only one man had ever called her that. She felt a lump in her throat forming at the memory of Hoag.
"Hoag's in Sovngarde?" Thank the gods, she'd always worried and wondered if he'd made it. Good to know Shor had him safe.
"He is," said Stelmaria, her face softening a little. "He speaks well of you, Delphine. It's a pity you'll never come here. But then again, I don't think Cicero will see Shor's Hall again either, so I suppose it's a good thing he has someone to take care of him."
Delphine put an arm around Cicero, guessing this was as close to approval as she was going to get. He nestled into her, arms going around her waist.
"The Listener always takes good care of me, Mama," he said. "And soon she's going to marry me, and Cicero will be the happiest man in Skyrim." He sighed happily, soppy gaze turned on Delphine as he kissed her cheek. Delphine stroked his hair and looked back at Stelmaria. The other woman was smiling.
"Not just after him for the dragon blood then. That's good. I had wondered."
"It was never entirely just about the blood," Delphine told her. No, even despite the madness, he'd had a certain charm to him from the day they'd first met. "I'd have helped any Dragonborn. Don't think I'd have fallen in love with one who wasn't Cicero."
That was a definite smirk on Cicero's face, but as Delphine had every intention of smacking it out of him later, it didn't bother her. Stelmaria just nodded, apparently content with that.
"He could do worse, I suppose," she said, only a little grudgingly. "Treat him well and take care of him, Delphine. Talos knows he needs it."
"I will," Delphine promised, very aware that Cicero was not just cuddling her now, he was actually purring. It was cute but very distracting. Apparently getting the maternal seal of approval had unlocked whole new vistas of opportunity for Cicero to lavish affection.
Fortunately for her, things were prevented from getting any more uncomfortable by the sound of a fanfare of trumpets from outside the walls. General Tullius had arrived, it seemed.
"Cicero, get Eola," said Delphine. "I think she'll want to witness this."
Cicero disappeared, Stelmaria in tow, and soon returned with Eola draped over him, dressed in a borrowed set of Forsworn gear. Delphine felt her heart skip a beat to see her, although she also wondered if this had been a good idea, getting her out of bed. Still, she'd only ever get to see her father sign a historic peace treaty once.
"Del!" Eola cried, smiling to see her, trying to disentangle herself from Cicero and nearly collapsing. Delphine made her way over and took her other arm.
"I told you you were not well enough," Cicero sighed. "You should have stayed in bed!"
"Tough, I want to see it," said Eola firmly. "Not every day your da gets to be king. Stelmaria, if Cicero got crowned as king, you'd want to be there, wouldn't you?"
"Should that ever happen, I expect to be there or Cicero is in a great deal of trouble," said Stelmaria, falling in behind them. "Of course, I'm not sure Cicero would really want to be king of anywhere."
Cicero shook his head, shuddering at the very thought. "Oh no, dearest Mama. Cicero is quite happy being a simple fool."
The Reach-King himself had by this time emerged, cleaned up and his Forsworn armour exchanged for a set of fine clothes that had once been Thongvor Silver-Blood's. Kaie was helping him put the final touches to his outfit while Nepos looked on.
"There you go, Da," said Kaie, brimming with pride in her father. "You look like the Emperor himself."
"Hopefully before the Matriarch stabbed him," Madanach laughed. "Nepos, old friend, will I do?"
"You'll do perfectly, Madanach," Nepos assured him. "Although I feel I should point out the Lady Elisif is unlikely to be there herself."
"Yes, well, maybe I'm practising for when she is," said Madanach. "All right, let's get this over with. Delphine, are you with me? Cicero? Eola – Eola, why are you out of bed? You had to be carried in here."
"I'm coming with you!" said Eola firmly. "Don't try and stop me!"
"We'll look after her," Delphine promised. "You go and get yourself a kingdom."
Madanach nodded, adjusting his circlet one last time and calling to the Forsworn on the gate. Delphine noticed with some surprise that it wasn't just natives of the Reach up there – there were a few Nords who'd been helping with the city defence too. Markarth was changing already, it seemed.
Slowly, the great gates swung open. Outside was another army camped outside, a force of red and brown and iron with the familiar Dragon banners on display. At the front, Delphine could see Tullius and Rikke waiting.
"Let's get this over with," said Madanach quietly, before shaking his shoulders, lifting his head high, daughters, Dragonborn and the Dark Brotherhood's Listener all falling in behind him, and went out to make history.