So this is an update, sorry it's been a bit. If I can get 5 comments or a volunteer beta reader I'll be happy to put more effort into updating it.
I hope you like it, sorry to be so needy, but feedback is encouraging and reminds me to work on my fanfiction.
Duriana stayed awake through the ride up the hillside to Dawnstar and hated every minute. Her limbs ached from the cold and the jostle of the black horse forced blood into her limbs, making her tingle and twitch. When she could sleep she'd lean against the chest of the dark elf and inhale his spicy cologne. The jester road beside him on a small painted mare that looked to be a combination of Norse and Empire breeds.
At the end of the ride she found herself of a small house with a roaring fire. The jester made up a pallet of blankets and cushions while the Mer held her. Once the bed had been made, Listen laid her down on the blankets and tucked more over her. A look came from Listen and the jester tipped his hat and tumbled out into the snow with a "Righty-O."
She chuckled a bit, which made Listen smile. Standing slowly he walked towards the kitchen and left her to fall asleep. Unconsciousness proved all too easy, and Duraina found herself snoring beside the fire, awaking only slightly as her arms and legs twitched and tingled. She fought rest, looking over the items in the clean little house and listing them off in hopes she'd grow stronger.
A hazy dream came over her, about a happy future in a meadow somewhere. She lived in a cocoon and needed to wake up. In-between the dreams there were moments that she would later remember as being real. An old woman came in and rubbed a layer of warm fat and herbs on her body. Saying some chant to an Old God whose name had been forgotten.
In these moments between awake and asleep she saw things she knew couldn't be real. The ghost of her mother stood by her bed. There were wood elves in the book cases worked on making clocks and shoes while singing a song about their dead mother. At one point she thought she heard heavy breathing and saw the redhead on top of the elf, both naked, the man's pale hands running across the Mer's dark chest, ruffling white chest hair before kissing him.
When Duraina finally woke up she saw the jester standing over her. HIs lips were parted into a demented smile and his green eyes caught the sun and shone like jewels.
"Cicero," She said. "Isn't that what you said your name was?"
"Good Cicero it is!" He clapped his hand to his chest and made a courtly bow. "The knave of hearts is at your service."
Something about the way he stated his title so seriously made her laugh, a sound that echoed off the rafters and caused Listen to rise from his bed and come into the room. The Dunmer stood with his hands in his pockets, watching Cicero dance around with an amused smirk. When he focused his red eyes on Duriana she shivered, not from cold but a sense of discomfort. While his smile seemed sincere and kind a, darkness lay behind him that spread out in a spiral and consumed.
The Mer headed over to a nearby table and began ratcheting at something with a tool. Cicero watched this with keen interest then snuggled in next to her as if they were old pals. Duriana looked at the redheaded knave curiously, unsure how she should feel about his brazen familiarity but instead of getting upset she slipped her arm around him and buried her face in his chest. He felt warm and part of her held a chill she thought may never go away.
A soft ticking sound came from LIsten's table before he walked over and dropped something on the palette next to her. Duriana lifted it up and stared at a gold medallion with an emerald in the center with little foxes woven into a vine decoration. Cicero snatched the chain from her and began to put it around her neck. "Thoughtful Listener is right, the pretty girl would look good in gold. If she is going to be in the company of one so important to she should dress well."
The mer walked off while Duriana to realize her mistake. "Listener? His name isn't Listen?"
Ill contained in everything he did, Cicero bit his lip and fought back rude laugher, his chuckles breaking out between his words. "Oh no. no no no no no no. He's not Listen or Listener. Though you should call him Listener, as it is a title. People once called him Fadril Llaram, but in your new life you'd do well to call him Listener."
"I have a new life?" The audacity annoyed her and she imagined having to burn this nice home to the ground. Her thoughts grew cold when she looked up from Cicero's cool green eyes to see Fadril staring at her from the doorway. He leaned against the wood casually, the muscles in his arms present through his rough spun shirt. His handsome face narrowed and grew sharp as if he could read the murderous intent rolling through her head.
Cicero touched her chin and moved her face to his again. With an eerie tone he smiled at her but spoke to the Listener. "She'll see that she's our sister soon enough kind Listener. She is scared we will hurt her like you warned but I think once she tastes some of good Cicero's food she'll come around."
With a forward leap Cicero moved from the ground to the other side of the room, causing Duriana to gather her blankets in surprise. "Sister," she repeated and thought back to the members of the thieves guild laughing at her the first time she successfully stole a purse. She'd had to wait till her target had become so drunk he took out his cock and then fell over on the ground.
While she remembered how bungling her previous alliance had been Fadril walked over and sat in a chair near her. His finger played along the spine of a nearby book before he leaned over and ran his finger along a tendril of her hair. Duraina watched the white lashes covering his red eyes flutter as he regarded her.
From the kitchen Cicero called. "You are our sister, bathed in the blood of murder and sent to us by the dark hand of Sithis himself."
"Sithis," she said. Part of her had forgotten the name or to whom it applied but in speaking these words an emptiness seemed to engulf her and she remembered. With this memory came others, the if brothers saying the Sullivan's were only good for murder, rumors about why her mother had left Cyrodiil and Duriana pulled her knees up to her chest.
Fadril stared her down from his chair, the king of a silent throne and she knew to whom her soul finally belonged. If she had been given this knowledge before she escaped the shack, would she have bothered? Would let the others sleep while she ran away? The mer shifted in his seat, his white hair cascading down his chest and from him she felt the assurance all of her futures lead to the dark mer and his crimson haired companion. Without speaking or demanding the man Cicero called the Listener possessed her with the same devotion his companion so freely gave.
"I'm far from worthy of you," She said.
A smile parted Fadril's face with curled edges that promised kindness only because cruelty would come. While she continued to stare at her destiny the fool's meal began to fill the air from the kitchen and a wealth of understanding sunk into Duriana's soul. What her heart didn't know her soul would find out soon enough. "When do we go home."
No response came from the Dunmer, instead he leaned forward to pet the top of her head before pulling her blanket up to her shoulders. Staring into the fire she felt no need to ask more questions as she'd know soon enough. While she sat before the leader of an assassin cult his companion began to sing an obscene bar song, chuckling at the lyrics he modified to fit his dark humor. Some people stare at the darkness and the void looks back, poor Cicero, he must not have been able to handle what he saw.
They rode on a hired cart from Dawnstar to the sanctuary in Falkreath. They had hired a private carriage and she half expected the reason to be Cicero's constant ramblings. By the time they'd reached the end of their journey he'd explained the politics of the Brotherhood with more detail than any sane person wanted. A woman named Astrid had been angered by Cicero's appearance with the corpse of the Night Mother and Fadril's installation as Listener. The mer's stoicism hadn't done him any favors nor had his strange connection with Cicero who served to annoy the woman further.
Cicero apparently had the title of Keeper which reflected his role as tender to the Night Mother's remains. The details of which forced a "please don't," from Duriana. His ties to Fadril had seen the two hunting near Dawnstar, where the Listener had a house and Cicero had a surprise he never got to reveal. "The Listener would love Cicero's surprise," he bragged, "But he had to meet sweet Duriana. Apparently the Night Mother had been insistent so Cicero will save his surprise for another day. Poor Astrid will hate that the Listener found a new sister, I imagine that horrible woman will get cross and act out of line."
Placing his hand on Cicero's leg to bring comfort, Fadril allowed the red head to fall against him, allowing his companion to chatter on about how much he hated Astrid. Duriana tried not to stare, she knew men who were together in the thieves guild but she never liked sharing a wagon with a couple. Turning her head to look out the rear door she startled when she felt a hand on hers and turned to see Cicero pulling her over. "No need to be alone Duriana! The night more wants you here too."
The man's giggle fits made her uncomfortable at first, but when she found herself pressed between the two men, Cicero's arms trying to wrap themselves around the both of them she began to wonder what arrangements the jester preferred after all.
A rock jostled the carriage and she startled, only to find Fadril steadying her as well now. The feeling of the two men on either side of her made her body feel warm and stirred wicked fantasies about what they might want after all. Cicero ran his nose along her chin before his lips stopped inches from her ear. Whispering low he made her back ache, while Fadril ran his hand along her stomach. "The Listener and I both enjoy your company. You'll stay in our room if you like and I think you will. The Night Mother has been assuring of that as well, or so Fadril says."
Turning her head to stare at the jester, Duriana tried to find the courage to protest and say she didn't want but looking at Cicero and feeling the Listener next to her made her ability to lie flee. Rather than speak empty words she leaned forward and kissed the ginger, hoping calling his bluff would reveal his true intentions. Later she figured she'd regret being so forward but when he returned the kiss she felt bold. Her hands trailed down his chest, finding him soft over sinewy muscle.
The jester broke away and laughed, leaving Duriana flustered and unsure of herself. A hand moved across her collar and collected around her face, turning her to kiss the mer next to her. His boldness felt like permission and her curious fingers trailed up his dark ear to sate a burning curiosity. Fadril made a purring sound in his throat and the horses outside whinnied in fear. He broke off the kiss to smile at her, while Cicero wrapped his arms around her chest and smelled her hair.
"Pretty, pretty," the jester said. "Like a fresh grave, like a wilting rose, and when you kiss him you look like a fairy caught in a silvery spider web."
Looking up at the ginger she slide her legs across the Listener's lap, letting him rub her calves. Cicero seemed peaceful for a moment and she took comfort in his contentment. "When I kiss you do I look like I'm catching fire?"
"Does Milady feel warm?" He asked, trailing a finger across her bosom.
"Indeed I do."
The two men exchanged a quite glance, words passing between them she'd never hear. Their closeness felt right but she couldn't put her finger on why. Maybe the three of them needed each other to be complete, the madman, the silent one and her. The thought made her insecure as she couldn't place her herself between them except that they wanted her and she felt the arrangement held promise.
"Sadly this carriage is cramped," Cicero said, "And I fear we are near our destination. Perhaps we should have sent word to makeup a bed for the lass in the Listener's quarters?" Oh well, I suppose I'll have to keep her warm tonight. Perhaps I can show her a magic trick or two?"
"I've never had a man promise to satisfy me with card trick's before."
Both men smiled at her, as the carriage stopped on the edge of town. The three people go off, unloaded their packages and waited till the carriage had passed before heading away from civilization. With every step she second guessed herself and when Duriana had convinced herself she should spend the night in town and rethink, Cicero would caper or sing. The man's need to please her and Fadril endeared him to her even if his gestures felt desperate. The Mer seemed pleased by the man's chattering as well, stopping when Cicero begged to pull off a unique tumble and applauding afterwards.
She thought the sanctuary would have to be a happy place if these two men could love each other there so openly. Yet as they neared a clearing with a cave at the end Cicero wove his fingers into hers protectively and whispered. "I'm afraid we are home. Be quite good sister and let Astrid rant, for the night is long and Cicero would like you by him forever."
"Are you saying she won't be happy her boss recruited me?" She knew the answer but he seemed to need to warn her.
"All good knave Cicero is saying is to remember the Night Mother tells the Listener she has a greater purpose for you and that Astrid's husband has claws that are sharp, sharp."