Nineteen
Claret woke to the scent of flowers and breakfast cooking. She came back to herself slowly, feeling oddly refreshed and comfortable in the soft furs she'd snuggled into. Dim, warm, light filtered through the oiled tent roof, casting the interior in a gentle orange. The white haired woman stared blankly up the shifting light as awareness slowly filtered into her brain bit by bit. She sat up, and noticed several things that baffled her and she had to take a moment to try and get her sleep filled mind to wrap around them. She had been tended to. In her sleep. She knew this because her skin was soft and smelled faintly of herbs and flowers; lavender perhaps? Her hair glistened with a healthy shine, braided intricately with mountain flowers of various hues, the end tied off with a pretty black ribbon that she knew for a fact that she did not own. She was also nude, save for the pendant that still rested about her neck and the ring of Hircine that stubbornly clung to her finger like a tick.
What in the name of Oblivion was going on? Alright, she was with Cicero. He was being...stranger than he ever was. She couldn't exactly put this sort of behavior past him, she supposed since he'd seemed to slip into some sort of odd idol worship that she just couldn't figure out at all. What was the big deal about her being able to hear a dead woman? She tried very hard to ignore the nagging sensation that said she was slipping further and further down into insanity. The more important question was how had he managed to do all of this without waking her up? She knew this was his handiwork based on the scent of him that covered every inch of the tent. Claret knew that he could be pretty damn stealthy when he wanted to be but this was ridiculous. Her face flushed red and her heart fluttered in her chest in a way that wasn't exactly unpleasant, despite the strangeness. She felt...cared for? In a creepy, she-probably-should-be-way-more-worried-about-all-of-this-than-she-was sort of way, the fact that he'd gone out of his way to care for her was sort of sweet.
Her muscles felt relaxed and loose in a way they hadn't in months and it had the werewolf turning her arm this way and that, noticing a light shimmer to her sun darkened skin that hadn't been there before. Oils? Some sort of skin treatment? Had he...had he massaged oils into her skin? Whatever he had used was nearly scentless and wasn't greasy. Claret's skin had never been very well taken care of. She was covered in calluses and her hands were tough and hard, just like her feet from years of poor treatment. Now they were smooth, softer than she could ever remember them being. She swallowed, awkwardly pulling the blanket over her body until only her head was exposed, hiding her face in the soft fur as she tried to process everything.
She should feel violated, but really she just couldn't. It felt almost natural to let him do this for her and she had a sinking feeling that it was mother's influence. It was starting to make her resentful of the woman. But the worst thing was that the wolf and dragon in her hadn't woken her up. They allowed him to touch her. Claret prided herself on being fairly alert to her surroundings. Hell even in the mead hall, she never relaxed enough to sleep through the other Companions moving about or getting close to her bed. She'd never let her guard down, even in the Sanctuary, even when she was alone. It was a surefire way to get yourself killed to let anyone sneak up on you while you are sleeping. And yet, she had felt comfortable enough to not wake up while Cicero had apparently decided to give her a sponge bath and braid her hair. Her instincts hadn't reacted to him. At all. She felt a shiver of dread crawl through her insides.
She just couldn't wrap her brain around HOW he pulled it off. Logically the only thing she could come up with was some sort of magic.
Cicero had always been dangerous, even to her. Now? He was terrifying.
She dressed, pulling on her armor and weapons, not really feeling safe without having them on her person suddenly. Which was silly because she could probably handle just about anything with her voice alone these days. But it was a matter of self reassurance. The leather wrapped daggers felt good against her palms, centered her. She was in control. She had nothing to be afraid of. If he had intended to harm her, Claret was certain that she would have woken up. Surely. Right? She tried to swallow down her fear, knowing full well that he was probably able to smell it, thanks to his new abilities. Which was even worse to think about. What couldn't he see or smell about her now? Though if she were being completely honest with herself, it really just put them on an even playing field.
So what was it that really frightened her about all of this? The halfling bit her lower lip, and flexed her fingers around the hilt of her weapons, staring down at her neatly cleaned nails. She truly trusted him with her safety. He made her feel SAFE, even if he was very much the biggest threat she knew of save for maybe Alduin and Alduin was a goddamn dragon god thing. Her brows scrunched together and some odd tightness settled in her chest that she couldn't identify. He was pack. But that wasn't enough to make her fully relax around someone. Maybe it was partly the fault of this so called bond between them. She had a difficult time fully believing that though. She'd had the little bastard embedded so far into her brain that it seemed unnatural for sure, but this was different. He was...No. Oh nonono. Claret no. Vilkas had been her first love, a one sided(so she had thought) innocent thing that had essentially made her wary of any romantic feelings from then on. She had fallen hard for Cicero without letting herself see it. He had crept up on her like the little sneak he was.
And if she were honest about it, she'd known for a long while now that she loved him. Even thinking the word had her cringing and writhing internally. If there was one thing that Claret was exceedingly good at, it was lying to herself apparently. She swallowed thickly, heart hammering in her chest and ears like something wild. Cicero was a murdering, highly unstable, madman and a vampire. And Claret loved him; loved him so much in fact that she was ready to throw her life into his gloved hands with foolish abandon.
The white haired woman let out a soft little gasp for air that she couldn't quite help, covering her mouth with her hands and in a matter of seconds, there was a blur of red and black. The vampire was in her personal space, looking her over with something close to panic on his features.
"Listener! Are you alright? Is something the matter? Tell your Keeper what is wrong?" Wide, golden eyes met her stare and she flushed, feeling stupid and not wanting to think about the oddness of the entire situation, nor of her stupid, idiotic emotions concerning the Keeper. His gaze zeroed in on her blushing face and something calculating, almost mischievous flashed over his expression before he seemed to force it aside in the next moment. He'd thought something that wasn't particularly professional and he was hiding it from her. It hurt her a little more than she was willing to admit.
"I'm fine, it's nothing. But, Cicero, you didn't have to do all of this," She murmured, gesturing to her hair and body awkwardly, trying to at least deal with one issue even if she wasn't ready to even think about the other.
"Of course Cicero did! You are the Listener! Cicero lives only to serve. What sort of Keeper would I be if I left my Listener in such a state?" He seemed almost offended by the idea.
"What are you trying to say? That I can't take care of myself?" She huffed and he gave her the driest look that she'd ever seen, " I bathe! I wash my hair!"
His eyebrow ticked up closer to his hairline and she rolled her eyes.
"Is this some weird Brotherhood thing?" She asked with a frown. His eye twitched and expression became a little strained.
"Yes?" He answered, unsurely, and she glared.
"Is this some weird Cicero thing? How did you even do this without me waking up?" She amended and he snickered. Some of the tension left her. At least he wasn't doing it because of some list of guidelines telling him to. He gave her a look that was all at once not apologetic and unsure.
"Cicero has gotten very good at Illusion and Alteration magic recently," He answered truthfully. Because Cicero having access to frighteningly strong sensory altering spells wasn't an absolutely unnerving and awful thing to think about at all. Oh no.
"It is traditional for members of the brotherhood to see to the care of the family, not just the Listener. We are a family, or we are supposed to be, after all. And Cicero is certain that like himself, many members of the family have noticed that the Listener doesn't seem to take very good care of herself. The Listener...you do not seem to like yourself very much, Claret," He said after some hesitation and the accusation in combination with her given name on his lips had her freezing. She stared at him, feeling suddenly exposed. Her mouth twisted and she looked down at her lap, anywhere but those eyes that seemed to see everything that she was. She curled in on herself a bit, refusing to meet the look he fixed her with, feeling very much like some gaping wound that she wasn't really aware of was suddenly forced into the forefront of her mind.
" You fear committing yourself to others because you think they will be taken from you or that they will reject you when you get comfortable. You don't take care of yourself because you subconsciously figure that if you make yourself undesirable that people won't pay attention, that I won't pay attention. Make yourself seem smaller, less of a threat and people won't expect you to be in a position of power, won't place their hopes on you. Cicero doubts that the Listener is even aware that she is doing it. You also have yet to fully accept yourself for what you are," He rattled off, voice barely above a whisper and devoid of anything negative. " You also don't treat yourself well because you probably still see yourself as a bad person."
"How can I not?" She huffed, meeting his strangely warm stare. " I've done awful things, killed more people than I can count. I have tortured people for Divine's sake!"
"And?" Cicero asked, a knowing expression filling his face, "You don't feel like you are evil because you did these things. You feel evil because you don't actually have any remorse about doing those things at all and that bothers you."
"Shouldn't it?" She asked, looking a little lost and he tilted his head thoughtfully with a little hum.
"Take away what you were taught by society. Don't think about what is right and wrong according to what the law states or to what men and elves say. Does a wolf feel bad about eating a fawn? A sabercat care at all about a fox that it spent hours toying with before eating it? What does Claret feel is right and wrong? What does the predator think?" He asked. And she tried to push away the habitual drive to do the right thing. Her father hadn't really gotten to raise her for long, and the only thing that he had instilled in her mind was survival at any cost.
Survive, live to see the next day and cling to the people that matter as long as possible. The dragon in her shifted, flexed somewhere in her brain. Survive? Yes, survival is important, but also, strength because of that. She survives because she is strong. They feel nothing for the people they kill because those people are weak. The weak either fall in line, or become prey. The wolf rumbled through her gut in agreement.
One thing that Paarthurnax had never really taught her was how to deal with the fact that despite her exterior, nothing about her was really human. She never really asked, of course. It wasn't part of their lessons. And perhaps it should have been. She was still seeing herself as a mortal and while yes, she had a finite lifespan because her body was mortal, that didn't get rid of the instincts that her soul held.
"Well?" Cicero asked, watching her carefully. She frowned thoughtfully.
"Their deaths aren't something that I am upset over because they were prey. That made their lives mine," She mumbled hesitantly, waiting for his reaction, waiting for the Divines to strike her down where she sat. Instead he smiled. The morning was still warm and peaceful, there were birds somewhere chirping. And the world hadn't ended because she admitted out loud that she didn't regret what she had done.
"We all have our reasons for what shapes our own right and wrong. You have the soul of a dragon and you are a werewolf. I see the death I bring people as a gift. They should be honored to be killed by Cicero not only because Cicero is the Keeper, but because Cicero is the hand of Sithis and they were chosen to go to His side," She stared over at him, and there was this strange moment of understanding. They had different reasons for being monsters, but they were both monsters, and knowing that he was alright with what sort of monster she was, put her at ease.
"Is that why you seem to like drawing out death?" She asked. He tapped his lower lip thoughtfully as he seemed to roll her question around.
"Yes and no?As the Keeper, Cicero isn't given contracts typically. Cicero enjoys the act, enjoys knowing that he can make things as painful as possible. He has always felt that people that are about to die should welcome the pain, should fight death as much as they can, for as long as they can, because it means that they respect it, and eventually, embrace it happily. A person only usually dies once, after all," He answered cheerfully. She shook her head in disbelief. He did what he did because he wanted the people he killed to have the best deaths possible in his mind.
"That is why you killed Movarth quickly. He was disrespectful," she stated slowly. He nodded, a look of disgust on his face.
"That worm didn't deserve more attention than that," He spat. Claret sighed softly, slowly feeling like she was starting to get a better picture of the man across from her. He was still a mystery, but at the very least he was opening up a little to her.
"Thank you, Cicero," She said and he stilled, pupils blowing out a little, his pulse jumping under his ivory skin. She noticed a faint flush over his cheeks and that made her more than a little curious.
"For what? The Keeper has done nothing that the Listener needs to praise him for," He babbled, suddenly looking strangely...shy? Interesting. Claret watched him carefully, smiling softly at him.
"Thank you for talking to me, for answering my questions," She began, noting that he seemed to almost shiver minutely. Did he have a thing for being praised? Well, there was only one way to find out. She added with a warm, and genuine tone," You've been wonderful to me, despite everything. Taking care of me, even when you don't have to. I appreciate it."
He practically glowed under the simple praise, and yes that was definitely a delicate blush tinting his pale cheeks. She had always noticed that he seemed to crave attention, contact; even back when they traveled together originally, but she'd never caught on that specifically thanks and praise in particular seemed to make him react in such an interesting, and frankly, adorable way. He was too much.
"The Keeper, keeps! It's just what Cicero does, the Listener need not thank lowly Cicero for doing what needs to be done!" He seemed somewhat flustered, uncomfortable with the idea that someone appreciates what he was doing, almost as if he'd not been given much thanks or praise in the past and he was unused to it. And despite his protests, he seemed to sit up straighter, his eyes were brighter, smile more genuine. How in the world hadn't someone else seen how utterly adorable this mad-man was and scooped him up yet?
"The Listener wants you to know that even though she doesn't have to thank you, that she is going to because you deserve it, you silly man," She replied, picking up his odd manner of speech and earning a snicker from the squirming jester that couldn't hide his pleasure at her attention. It was still unnerving that he knew her so well even with as little as they'd been around each other, and even more so that she trusted him enough to let him do what he wished while she slept on dead to the world, but there was something almost relieving about all of it at the same time. She didn't have to guard herself around him and she could just be. She wanted to be that safe space for him as well, she realized with a small smile as he babbled something about breakfast burning and skittered out of the tent.
The moment that he was out of sight, Claret found herself wanting to vomit at how utterly sappy he was making her. Ew. With a huff of annoyance, she followed him out of the tent, standing and stretching in the sunlight. It was odd seeing the clearing in the daylight, if it could really be called that. The area was still a cavern of sorts, large holes in the roof of stone letting in shafts of golden sunlight that filtered down into the dense foliage of the miniature forest. Hircine's power, touch, whatever it was that infused the place kept the daylight from being overly bright thanks to the ever present haze that wafted through the trees like a fog.
The scent of meat cooking with fresh herbs and seasonings had Claret's stomach clenching tightly in hunger. She settled near the fire as she watched the jester plate up two heaping tins of what appeared to be chicken or some other sort of bird, maybe pheasant? It was hard to tell since it had been sliced up and fried in the small cast iron pot they'd brought along with a slather of butter, garlic, and aromatic rosemary. Claret made herself useful, slicing up a few pieces of Nazir's homemade bread and cheese. It had come as a bit of a surprise for the white haired woman to learn that Nazir was extremely fond of cooking and he was extremely talented at it. The bread was dark, crisp on the outside and soft and tasty inside. She was glad they'd managed to get a few loaves before leaving. Breakfast was pleasant and calm, despite the strange tension that still lingered between them.
She broke the comfortable silence with a happy sound and as she stretched her arms over her head, belly full and sated. Claret couldn't honestly remember the last time she'd felt this content.
"Is the Listener ready to continue her lessons?" Cicero asked and there was an eagerness in his eyes that brought a small smile to her lips. He had her repeat the tenants a few times, which was simple enough since they were not difficult to remember and were really just common sense. They could have shortened the list to: Never be a disrespectful idiot. To do so will invoke the wrath of Sithis. But that probably wouldn't look as fancy on the posters. He drilled her on the information he'd given her last night while they cleaned and packed up, trying to keep it fresh and ensuring she understood. By the time everything had been loaded back on to Empress, the redhead was satisfied with their review and they sat together over her map while the big horse snorted at them impatiently.
"She has about as much patience as you do," Cicero scoffed cheekily and Claret nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"Who do you think she learned it from?" The white haired woman boasted and he laughed, leaning back into her side as his eyes scanned over the marked up map carefully. She tried very hard not to take too much enjoyment out of the feeling.
"Tell Cicero about your targets, listener," He said and she ignored the effect his closeness had on her.
"Nazir gave me three names to start with. Deekus, an argonian salvager somewhere on the Northern Coast around Dawnstar is one. There isn't any specification for his death, but no real specifics about him or where specifically he is. He could have moved on already. The second I am actually sort of familiar with. Ma'randru the Khajiit. He's a creep who has wandering hands when he's off duty and out of sight of his boss, Ri'saad. He is a guard for the main caravan and is married to Ri'saad's daughter, Atahbah. She hates the prick. I've traded with her often when they camped outside of Whiterun and I know her quite well so if we can find them, we at least have a means of more information," Claret stated, tracing a circuit along the main roads of Skyrim. She grimaced and gave Cicero a shrug before explaining," They migrate along the roads between all of the major cities on a whim and they don't really stick to a set schedule. Ri'saad follows the scent of customers basically. There are several caravans, also, so there is no telling if we will actually run into the right one either. Thankfully, the target is part of the main caravan so if we find one of the offshoots, they should be able to give us an idea of where Ri'saad is heading."
Cicero made a thoughtful sound, his lips quirking in approval.
"Information gathering on Deekus will be key for his hunt. We can start in Dawnstar and ask around," He commented and Claret stiffened in hesitation. The vampire gave her a confused look before a broad smirk stretched across his lips. "Gregor the snowman!"
She made an absolutely disgusted sound that had him cracking up.
"It's been two years, maybe he's forgotten me," She offered hopefully. Cicero scoffed and laughed more.
"He's a housecarl. The last thing he is going to do is forget you," He teased and she sighed with a shake of her head. So much for optimism.
"The last target is Anoriath, yet another that I've met before in passing. He is a vendor and hunter in Whiterun, one of the few licensed by the Jarl. He and his brother run an inn and shop called the Drunken Huntsmen. I know Elrindir, his sibling pretty well, but not Anoriath. He's usually out a lot in the field or in the market selling game at a stall," She explained.
"Well that makes this easier. We should start in Whiterun then while keeping an eye out for Khajiit and travelers on the way. They may have passed a caravan that we can meet up with after our business in town is finished," He suggested and she nodded her agreement at the soundness of the plan.
"Leaving our salvager for last," Claret added, before folding her map back up and replacing it in the water proofed pack.
" We will travel during the day, and camp before nightfall each day. After camp is set Cicero will train you in stabbing and sneaking. We will make you far more deadly before returning to the Sanctuary," He gushed with an excitement in his voice that was infectious. She smiled, despite the nerves that bubbled up in her guts. Veezara had begun training her in using daggers and speed, but she'd always been sub-par with stealth, so having an expert instruct her was a great chance to fix that shortcoming.
"It's going to be difficult in Whiterun, unfortunately," She mentioned with a grimace. He gave her a sly look.
"Ah yes, of course, the Listener's other titles. Thane of Whiterun and Dragonborn," He snickered and she glared at him.
"Yes. I didn't exactly stick around when the Jarl gave me the title of Thane. I was out the door before he had a chance to finish speaking. I've made it a point to not stay in town long and to keep a low profile because of that. Actually I was fairly shocked that I didn't get dragged up to the keep when I was there for my father's funeral," She mused quietly. Cicero felt the tensing of her small form, heard her heart flutter and barely picked up traces of salt on the air and it had his chest constricting. He had learned of her connection to the leader of the companions and of his death by the hands of an assassin. It was likely part of her hesitation toward the Brotherhood as a whole. Cicero couldn't really blame her. Silently, he gripped her hand tightly and she returned the gesture with a squeeze before she stood.
"We'll deal with your notoriety when it comes up. If anything, we can use it to our advantage," He mused with a small cat-like smile that had the dragonborn feeling a little worried. Thoughts of Kodlak were chased away swiftly as she tried to anticipate what the rotten expression on her Keeper's face meant.
A/N:: As a reminder because I tend to update here far later, please find me over on Archive of Our Own under the name Eyeslikechrome, if you haven't already. That is the place that I post my chapters on first. A lot of it is because I prefer their upload system and overall format and since I tend to have very little free time in general, it's the easiest for me to keep up with. I will of course post it here as well, but with the overall rating and content of the story I expect it to get nuked from orbit by the devs at any given moment lol. I want to apologize to everyone that has been following it here and promise to do better with posting here at the same time as AO3. Thank you for reading and for your patience. All of you are wonderful.