AN: Fynder (pronounced 'finder') is OC. It's up to you if he's the dragonborn or not. Honestly, I just wanted to give the extremely dangerous lunatic a hug.

Fynder was not what you would generally consider a kind man. He wasn't cruel, and didn't delight in causing suffering, but he honestly didn't care enough for most people to bother with more than the most basic courtesy. He barely saw them as people, really.

In hindsight, it probably shouldn't be surprising that he joined the Dark Brotherhood as soon as Astrid offered him the chance. As a child his mother had always said he was a good listener; the irony wasn't lost on him given his recently acquired position in the guild. Listener, indeed.

The Brotherhood had resettled in the sanctuary at Dawnstar, and Fynder had settled in to do what he did best, listening. He passed on Mother's words, letting Nazir distribute the jobs as he saw fit, then taking the appropriate percentage of the fees and tending to the guild's accounts. He didn't go on many jobs personally anymore, which he was ambivalent about. Unless Mother specifically demanded he attend personally, he let the others handle the wet work. They seemed happy with the arrangement, and not just because it helped keep Cicero calm.

Cicero. Now there was a conundrum.

The first few times Fynder had gone out on jobs after being appointed Listener by the Night Mother, the Keeper had damn near lost his mind (further). Shrieking about how the Listener must stay safe, how he'd waited so long, how the Listener could not be risked. Upon his return, Nazir had informed him that Cicero had been violently unstable, lashing out and wailing at all hours, frantic and desperate for any possible update. He still performed his duties to Mother, but he was visibly anxious and distressed until Fynder was home again and the Keeper could see he was unharmed. Until Mother spoke to him again and proved that he could still Hear her.

So Fynder stayed home for the most part, tending the books, Listening, and listening. He'd become something of a counsellor for the guild, which was completely baffling to him. Why his brothers and sisters felt comfortable coming to him with their personal problems was more than he could understand, but he kept his peace and listened.

It was because of this that he noticed something. His brothers and sisters made a point of caring for each other, building relationships like a true family. They trained together, laughed, ate, slept, and sometimes fucked. They looked after each other when sick, celebrated birthdays, tended injuries, and consoled their siblings in times of sadness. All except Cicero.

Cicero seemed to be held in an awkward half space. He was respected as the Keeper, provided anything he asked for, but was not included in the family. He was referred to as a sibling, but not treated as one. Much the same as Fynder had become. Admittedly, Fynder's distance was largely due to his own preference, but Cicero's was clearly not. He saw the jester watching the warm gatherings longingly before deliberately busying himself oiling Mother or polishing her coffin. And for the first time in perhaps his entire life, Fynder felt sympathy.

"Cicero, you haven't eaten today; here." He handed the startled Keeper a bowl of venison and vegetable soup and a fresh bread roll still warm from the oven.

"Oh! The kind Listener brings poor Cicero a meal! Cicero thanks you!"

"It's a particularly good batch of soup, Marla did an excellent job."

Cicero hummed in agreement, scoffing down the meal as if he hadn't eaten something warm in days. It was entirely possible he hadn't, their siblings didn't always remember to leave some for him. Once he'd finished, Fynder swapped the empty bowl for a bottle of mead, and surprised both of them by patting Cicero on the shoulder before walking off.

And thus began a new habit. Any time he noticed Cicero being excluded, he would bring him a warm meal, or a drink, or even just sit with him quietly while Cicero tended Mother and chattered on in his way. The Keeper had been puzzled but accepting, seeming to just put it down to being A Listener Thing.

Fynder hadn't really given any thought to what the others might think of his care for the Keeper, which was why he was somewhat caught off guard when Nazir brought it up. They'd been going through the completed jobs, any requests the guild had for repairs or materials, preparations for the upcoming winter and any other odds and ends that needed attention.

"So, what's going on with you and the jester?"

Fynder sipped his wine but remained silent. In all honesty, he didn't know what to say.

"Don't think we haven't noticed," Nazir chewed and swallowed a bite of cheese, settling back in his chair, deceptively relaxed. "You've been favouring him, practically doting. Is this a Night Mother thing?"

Frowning, Fynder put down his goblet and actually gave the question some thought. Why did he reach out to Cicero? The Keeper hadn't asked anything of him beyond not risking himself unless ordered by Mother, and his mere presence in the sanctuary was enough to keep the jester happy and calm. He didn't care about people as a general rule, and he wasn't certain he even cared about Cicero as a person. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it (he'd never felt either of those things and frankly couldn't understand the appeal), they weren't friends in the traditional sense, so why?

"I think," he said slowly, tasting each word for truth as it slipped from his tongue, "that Cicero needs us."

Nazir frowned, leaning forward intently.

"In what way?"

Fynder hummed softly, trying to put his thoughts into words. He'd never been much of a talker, so expressing something he just instinctively knew was a challenge.

"Cicero was, is, an exceptional assassin. The last Keeper raised him, but was killed when Cicero was barely old enough to care for himself, and there was nobody left to care for Mother. Their entire chapter was razed, as you know."

Nazir nodded. The slaughter of the Bravil chapter was common knowledge in the guild. Cicero was the only known survivor.

"He took Mother to the Chydinhal chapter and became her Keeper, but..."

"But?"

Fynder sighed, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk.

"Cicero was largely alone. He'd just lost his entire family, saw his Mother desecrated, and the family in his new home were... lacking."

They sat in peaceful silence, Nazir waiting and Fynder trying to find the words.

"He came to us, looking for a home, a family. He'd been alone for a very long time, with only his duties to Mother keeping him focused. The things he experienced, he's not entirely stable."

"No kidding," Nazir drawled, but subsided at receiving a glare.

"Then that nasty business with Astrid, and the razing of the Falkreath sanctuary. His family turned against him. He lost his home again. And now here we are, rebuilding our family but he still isn't accepted. Things are better, but he's still alone."

"I'm surprised," Nazir said, resting his chin on his fist, elbow propped on the edge of the table. "You don't seem burdened by an overabundance of empathy."

"I'm not, really," Fynder admitted. "But Cicero has devoted his entire life to the family. He's sacrificed a brilliant career to care for our Mother and has been abused and betrayed because of it over and again. It's not right. He's the most dedicated and loyal of us all - not to dismiss your own contributions of course - but he's excluded. He isn't invited to join the parties, he's often overlooked when distributing meals, and nobody thinks to provide him with anything unless he specifically asks for it. He should be lauded and cared for, given the home and family he needs. He's sacrificed everything, and we can't even invite him to sit with us by the fire?"

"You sound like you actually care." Nazir's surprise was palpable.

"I do. He is the Keeper, I am the Listener. We're family with all of the Brotherhood, but we're different, too. I wouldn't be worthy of what Mother has gifted me if I was to neglect my brother's needs. He cares for Her, and it's up to us to care for him."

"So, this is a pity thing?"

"Absolutely not." Fynder's voice, usually so soft, cracked like a whip and had Nazir rocking back with wide eyes. "Cicero does not deserve to be pitied. Nothing he has done or endured warrants it. He deserves veneration and devotion and to have a real family in us! He has been denied for too long."

"Alright, I get it," Nazir patted the air as if trying to calm Fynder like one would gentle a threatening dog. "You have to admit he's a bit strange, but I'll make sure to take more care with him."

Fynder settled back in his chair, and took a slow sip of his wine, giving himself time to regain his equilibrium.

"That's entirely up to you. I'm not asking you to do anything. I care for Cicero because I choose to. What you do is your own business."

Nazir nodded and stood, beating as hasty a retreat as he could without looking like he was fleeing.

Fynder sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You can come out, Cicero," he said, his voice regaining its usual softness.

The hidden door to the right of the desk opened, and Cicero stepped out. He wore his usual jester's outfit, but the manic grin and capering was distinctly missing. Instead, his steps were silent and sure, his face serious. Without the crazy persona, it was easy to see him for what he truly was; an exceptionally dangerous man.

"The Listener does not pity Cicero." It was not a question.

"No."

"Then why?"

Why, why? It always came down to why, didn't it?

Fynder stood, not bothered in the slightest that it placed him well within the danger zone if Cicero became violent.

"Because you're not just the Keeper, Cicero. You're my brother. It's my honour to care for you."

Cicero, poor, sweet Cicero, flung himself at Fynder, to overcome for words and shivering from the emotions he couldn't express.

Fynder sighed and hugged the other man close. He didn't do physical contact as a rule, but for his broken and lonely brother, he would offer what he could.

"It's alright, Cicero. You're not alone any more."