Middas 9 Rain's Hand 4E 204 4:00 PM
"That was Lydia! Diana's not special friend! Diana's housecarl!" Cicero started laughing manically in my ear. I was already developing a headache from not screaming and grinding my teeth at the revelation that my most hated nemesis was once my best friend.
And she had done it because she thought I was dead.
I was such a fool. A gods' damned fool.
I had mysteriously disappeared from Windhelm. Astrid had assured me that she had merely drugged Lydia and left the Nord in her room. But I never thought to ask what Lydia would think. What she would do.
She had failed to protect her charge from danger. It wasn't even in the middle of a dragon attack or destroying a den of bandits which would have been perfectly understandable. Instead, Lydia had failed while in the middle of a hostile city. I should have known that she couldn't return to Whiterun. Her Nordic pride wouldn't allow it.
I pulled Shadowmere to a stop. We were back near the field where Cicero had first spotted the dragon. I looked back and saw no apparent pursuit. I could only assume they were either too busy showing off the dead dragon or were securing the village for Stormcloak occupation. Regardless, I doubt we were going to be followed.
I scowled angry at myself. The only thing my actions did today was add to Ulfric's glory. Not only did the Bear of the Eastmarch defeat a dragon and save the village of Rorikstead, he had stopped the Dark Brotherhood, something even the Emperor had been unable to achieve.
I looked around and saw no sign of Cicero's mare. I did not look forward to the possibility of riding back to Dawnstar Sanctuary doubled up on Shadowmere with Cicero. The Fool was still laughing his head off.
"Shut up," I said. Cicero ignored me. "Shut up!" I said louder to be sure the jester heard me over his own loud cackle.
"Cicero cannot! It is too funny," Cicero howled.
I turned and pushed the Keeper off Shadowmere. He landed on the ground with a grunt, but kept laughing while lying on his side. I hopped off Shadowmere. "I SAID SHUT UP!" I screamed. I grabbed Cicero by his motley top and pulled him so he was sitting halfway up. When Cicero continued his mad laughter, I slapped him as hard as I could. "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Every time I said "shut up", my hand rang against the jester's face. Thu'um slammed against him as well.
Finally, the Fool of Hearts was silent. "Cicero is sorry," he said quietly, not looking at me. I was horrified how red his face looked from my blows. I had never hit Cicero before except the one time he had provoked me over his clothes. Even then, that didn't compare to this.
I stepped away, my breathing raspy. What was happening to me? What kind of person was I becoming?
"Where is Hecate going?" Cicero's voice was frantic as he scrambled to his feet. I backed away some more until I was pressed against Shadowmere. I swear the demon horse's gaze was reproachful. "Come back. Cicero promises he'll behave. Cicero was just as surprised as Hecate. That is all." Cicero's hand was reaching towards me as I remounted Shadowmere.
"Find your mare," I said. I could barely get the words out. "I'm going back to Sanctuary." I rode away leaving Cicero behind with the most bewildered look on his face. It felt like a dagger in my heart when I heard his screams of pain from being abandoned follow me.
Turdas 10 Rain's Hand 4E 204 11:00 AM
I had ridden back to Sanctuary nonstop as fast as possible. I stumbled down the stone stairs, not caring that I could barely see because of the change from the bright blue sky to the dark dungeon we called home. How could the sky be so blue and cheerful after what I had done?
I knew Cicero was still hours behind me. Even if he found his horse immediately, the mare had no chance of running as fast or as long as Shadowmere. The poor thing would need to rest. I doubt Cicero would let her; he probably ride her until she dropped. But there was time and that was all I needed.
I pushed aside the curtain that closed off the area around the shrine. I threw myself to my knees before the Night Mother's coffin. I could feel her disapproval even before I started to speak. She knew what I had done.
"Mother, I'm sorry. I attacked the Keeper. I didn't mean to. It just happened," I sobbed into my hands. If she had been mortal, I doubt the Night Mother could have understood me. But she was a spiritual entity and knew my heart better than I did.
"I have to go away for a while. I have to beat this rage that dominates my life. I cannot keep on like this. I cannot! If this is not your will, tell me. Please, tell me what to do." I waited, but as always no words came. It seemed like the only time the Night Mother had something to say other than give the pleas of the vengeful was when Cicero was involved. And why wouldn't she? He was her perfect, loyal, faithful son. Unlike me who was so terribly flawed.
I stood and bowed. "Thank you for your time, Mother," I said quietly. I stumbled out of the shrine area. Below in the common area, I could see my family gathering looking up at me. Nazir, Meena, Eiruki, Geldii, and Elbent were all there. The others must still be out on contract.
I took in a deep breath and forced myself to speak loud enough for them to hear me. I hoped my voice wouldn't shake while I spoke. "Something has come up. I need to take a sabbatical for a while. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll return as soon as I can. Nazir is in charge until I return."
"Where are you going?" Nazir asked. "In case we need to get a hold of you."
"I'm going to the one group of people who can help me," I said as I walked past to my room to pack. "I am going to the Greybeards at the Throat of the World."
Middas 9 Sun's Height 204 4E 2:00 PM
It had been almost three months since I left Dawnstar Sanctuary. Arngeir had greeted me warmly when I arrived in High Hrothgar. He was the only one of the Greybeards, not counting Paarthurnax, who could still speak the language of man without causing environmental destruction. It was said when a Greybeard spoke storm clouds brewed and pilgrims had to be wary of avalanches.
One look at my face and he had instantly known. "It is the thu'um, is it not?" he asked quietly. Arngeir always spoke quietly, when he bothered to speak at all. I had nodded and he had wrapped a fatherly arm around me in sympathy.
"I feared this day would come for you as it did for us," he said as he led me into the monastery. "I never imagined it would be so soon though."
"It's not completely the thu'um," I admitted. "My temper has gotten worse, so much worse. I have tried mediation, seclusion, and every method of calming I could find. Nothing helps. I hurt someone very close to me. I couldn't let that happen again."
"Was it your friend that you brought when we summoned you? The housecarl?" Arngeir asked.
"No, someone else," I shook my head. "Lydia is a completely different problem."
The Greybeards had sensed me when I devoured my first dragon soul. They had gathered as one and shouted, "DOVAHKIIN," so loudly that the very world shook. All of Skyrim heard their call. Jarl Balgruuf had told me very little of them, but had insisted that I travel to find out more of their ways. Arngeir, Borri, Wulfgar, and Einarth had taught me the full shout for fus ro dah, force-balance-push. It was my favorite shout, maybe because of how I had learned it. The same was true with whirlwind sprint, wuld.
After my training, Arngeir had directed me to various dragon walls, places where the draconic language had been inscribed, so I could learn more of the dovah language. Most dragon walls were protected by resurrected dragons, which gave me the opportunity to defeat them for their souls, which in turn hastened my ability to access the power of the shouts.
Arngeir had showed me a spare cot to call my own and gave me my own set of robes like the ones they wore. The simple wool felt rough against my skin after months of body-hugging leather. When I pulled the hood up, I felt like I was hiding myself from the world. Maybe I was.
The Greybeards left me alone to contemplate whatever I had come here to contemplate. Their way was one of silence and pacifism. I felt like a wolf wearing sheep's clothing among a herd. Except this herd had its own claws and fangs they had hidden.
The silence was the worst part. With their cloth robes and soft leather shoes, the Greybeards whispered about their sanctuary rarely making any sound at all. I had grown used to the various people back at Dawnstar moving around with all the noise the living make. Most of all, I missed my obnoxiously loud jester.
I wished desperately for Paarthurnax to return from his pilgrimage of finding other dragons and teaching them the Way of the Voice so I could talk to him. It was unlikely he would return soon. The best time I could hope for was measured in years. After all, what is time to a dragon?
I tried to meditate about Lydia and the whole Dragonborn situation. I could remember her righteously angry statement about getting revenge against the Brotherhood. I couldn't hate her for what she had done. If anyone knew me in this country, it had been Lydia. For six months, we had traveled side by side to danger time and time again. How many times I had saved her life? How many had she saved mine?
Lydia had to have known I wouldn't have supported Ulfric. She hadn't been there when he had made his offer, so maybe she didn't know about it. But she had known I was an Imperial and that I was pro-racial integration. How many times had I stormed about Ulfric's unfair treatment of the non-human races?
It felt pointless to contemplate about that. Lydia was doing what she always did. She was following her duty. Maybe the Nord had sworn herself to Ulfric or maybe she thought she was still honoring my memory. It didn't matter because Lydia did what she personally believed what was right.
Instead my thoughts kept going back to Cicero. Damn foolish jester! Why did he have to always be so meek and willing to tolerate whatever was thrown at him? I thought of all the times he quietly let the others mock and ridicule him. Of all the times they called him clown and fool to his face. Why didn't he stand up for himself like he always championed the Night Mother?
The worst Cicero ever did was make a sharp retort and smile his private arrogant smile. Cicero knew he was better than the others because he was right and time would prove it.
I was reading when the knock came. I finally had all the time I wanted to read and I found I didn't care for it much. I still enjoyed my books, but it wasn't the same when it was the only thing I could do.
High Hrothgar did not get many visitors. At the top of the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Tamriel, the monastery's path was famous for its seven thousand steps. Pilgrims frequently would travel part of the way up the mountain to meditate and contemplate their futures, but very few actually came all the way up. The only exception was Klimmek, a kindly Nord who lived in Ivarstead, the village at the foot of the mountain. He brought supplies every few weeks for free, but he always left them in the chest at the foot of the monastery.
Sometimes I would offer to go down to Ivarstead to bring the supplies back. Klimmek was getting old and the journey was hard on him. His generosity had greatly impressed me and I wanted to repay that kindness a bit by helping him while I was here. Getting to get out for a bit and talking to normal people was undeniably an added bonus.
When the doors of the monastery opened, a cold, snow laden breeze blew chilling me to the bone. Despite the fact it was the middle of summer, there was still snow here. So far above the rest of the world, the Throat only knew winter.
"You're not Diana," a shrill male voice scolded. "You're not Diana at all."
Oh gods, what was he doing here?
I walked down the stairs to the lobby of the monastery and saw Cicero stride in bold as brass, uninvited. His smug grin was firmly in place and his gloved hands were planted on his hips. I was pleased to see he had at least enough sense to wear protective furs from the cold.
"Ah, there you are! If Cicero had known Diana was hiding, he would have looked harder," the jester winked at me. It was the same thing he had said to me when he had visited Breezehome a lifetime ago.
"Dovahkiin, do you know this man?" Arngeir asked quietly.
I nodded, not sure if I trusted my voice right now. I wasn't certain if I would sob or laugh. Despite what I had done, Cicero had come for me.
"We will practice out in the courtyard," Arngeir said gesturing for the other monks. They silently filed out. Arngeir nodded once to me before he left.
Cicero and I were left alone. I stood there silently while Cicero chuckled lightly, each waiting for the other to speak first. After a few moments, Cicero stepped forward and took my hand. "Come home," he said simply.
"How did you know I was here?" I said. I had specifically told Nazir to not let Cicero know where I had gone. My voice was rusty after months of disuse.
"There is nowhere in Nirn you can go that I won't find you," Cicero said, his amber eyes intense. He grasped my chin in his hand. The Keeper licked his lips nervously. "Come home," he repeated.
"I'm not ready," I said.
"What could these pacifists possibly teach you?" Cicero scowled. "Their ways are not ours."
"You go home!" I said jerking my face away from Cicero's hand. "Just go home right now! I didn't want you here and you should never have come here. Leave!" I commanded.
"No," Cicero said simply.
"What?" I stopped short. "You cannot say 'no' to me." Since I had become Listener, Cicero had never denied me.
"No." At least he had the grace to look surprised too. "No! Cicero said no. Ha, ha, ha," he laughed gleefully. "No, no, no, no, no!"
"You're not allowed to disobey a direct order from a superior!" I said, both confused and angry at the jester's sudden decision to stand up to me.
"When Hecate is being the Listener, then Cicero will obey any command," the Keeper said, his eyes still twinkling with his revelation, "but for now you are spoiled Diana hiding in her tower pouting over Sithis knows what. Cicero will do what he damn well pleases." Cicero laughed.
My rage took hold and I found myself swinging a punch at Cicero. Fast as lightning, one hand stopped my punch by grabbing my fist while the other pushed me in the chest so that I fell backwards. I had managed to forget how fast and strong the Keeper was. As I landed on my back, I cried out in pain, but couldn't do anything else as Cicero sealed my mouth with his hand. The Keeper landed on me, effectively pinning me to the ground.
"Do you know the difference between us?" Cicero asked looming over me. "I chose everything that happened to me. I chose the Brotherhood. I chose to be loyal. I chose to be faithful. I chose to be steadfast. I could have left Cheydinhal at any time. It wasn't as if the Black Door was locked from the inside. No, no, no, not loyal Cicero. Cicero stayed and waited and searched for the Listener when all the others died or left as was the case with Garnag. I even chose to come to this snow forsaken country. I chose to join Astrid's little sycophants.
"But you! Look at you with all your grace and potential. Pretty, talented Diana chosen of the gods. Chosen by prophecy to be the one to save the world from dragons. The one chosen by the Night Mother to hear her sweet, sweet words. And what do you do with it all? You run away and hide. You cower and bemoan your fate instead of being happy to be so fucking special." Cicero's face was inches from mine. His expression was dark. I struggled, but couldn't get any purchase. The jester had made sure to sit on my midsection so I couldn't kick him like I did the last time he had pinned me down.
"Just tell Cicero one thing. One thing! If Garnag did not betray our secret, why are you so angry with Cicero? What did Cicero do to deserve such punishment?" The Keeper's expression softened to one of sorrow and he released his grasp on my mouth.
I gasped sucking in sweet, cold air. I was afraid he would accidentally choke me to death during his tirade. I was scared, but that part of me wasn't the loudest part. There was another part, the Dragon part, that was too excited by the dark Cicero resurfacing after so long. I pushed that strange, twisted part of me aside.
"You said the Binding Words," I said. I sat up as best as I could with Cicero still sitting on me. "You know how I feel about that."
"That's not fair!" Cicero said. "The others say it to you all the time and you don't get mad at them."
I thought of how Meena, Aventus, and Babette all one time or another jokingly told me that they loved me. "It's different with them," I said shaking my head. "Meena is just being stupid and the others are just kids."
"And what about Cicero?" the jester asked. Although he was still sitting on my lap, he wasn't really touching me. Cicero wringed his hands worriedly.
"I tried, but I can't convince myself you mean it in a brotherly way," I said with my head down.
"Cicero doesn't," he said. His hands hovered over mine, but were afraid to touch.
"For how long?" I asked. The butterflies in my stomach felt like they were going to tear my insides out.
"When you spared my life," Cicero said slowly. He acted if he was going to say something else, but couldn't find the words for it. Gloved hands fluttered anxiously about like wounded birds.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. Maybe that explained why he had stopped sleeping by my side like a brother. Or why he stopped doing all the little endearments like touching me or lightly kissing me. Because it was no longer a fun game to tease, but something more serious that Cicero didn't know how to handle any better than I.
"I won't say it back," I said finally opening my eyes. Cicero met my gaze. "I am not going to say it back," I repeated.
"Cicero never asked you to," he said nodding. I should have known the Fool of Hearts wouldn't need the object of his affections to return his feelings. He was the Night Mother's Keeper after all. "Can we go home now?"
"I still have to deal with why I came here," I said pushing Cicero off so I could stand. "I still have to learn how to deal with my anger."
"Pfft," Cicero said. He reached into his belt pouch. "Once again, what can pacifists teach you? Cicero has the solution right here." He handed me a tightly rolled up scroll. It was a contract for a pirate captain. "Let's kill someone," Cicero said smiling hungrily.
Turdas 10 Sun's Height 204 4E 5:00 PM
We were somewhere north of Dawnstar. At least our target was near home. Now that I had decided to return, I was eager to be back to the Sanctuary. Cicero and I were hiding behind a hill overlooking the docked boat. There were easily ten pirates on the deck milling around. Odds were there were at least that many more below deck plus the captain. You could always trust the leader to be better equipped than his men.
"Does Hecate want to make a side wager on who can kill more bandits?" Cicero asked playfully. He was excited as a child on New Life day.
"Hardly, I'm still in debt to you," I said dryly. "When are you going to cash that damn favor in?"
"When it is time," Cicero said winking. "Still there is no reason to not make a contest of it." I nodded in agreement and he laughed merrily.
"Go!" I said as I shot a pirate.
"Cheater!" Cicero said good-naturedly as he ran down the hill. Pirates were already streaming up from below like ants from a disrupted anthill. I sent three more arrows into the ranks before following. I hated shooting while Cicero was in melee. He never listened to me when I told him I needed him facing me so I wouldn't accidentally hit him.
I slid down the hill blindly shooting in an upward arc into the ship's deck after I couldn't see it any more. Once I hit the bottom of the hill, I Shouted, "WULD" to get me to the ship that much faster. I drew my ebony dagger and made my way onboard.
Cicero was a living whirlwind cutting pirates down around him. I had to tear my eyes away from him so I wouldn't become entranced with his dance of death. I loved watching him kill.
I turned to my own swatch of pirates and Shouted, "IIZ SLEN NUS," ice form. Four pirates froze into place and toppled over. They weren't dead; the shout doesn't do that. But they were helpless as I quickly finished the job. "Seven!" I yelled.
"Eight," Cicero retorted. A perfect circle of pirates formed around him. He laughed as I scowled.
The two of us bolted down stairs to get to more pirates. Some of them were being smart and barricading themselves into their rooms, but it didn't save them. Cicero managed to kick down the door allowing me to set four of them on fire with my breath. "VOL TOOR SHUL!"
"That should count as Cicero's," the jester complained. "Cicero did all the hard work."
"We'll split them," I said pulling my bow again. I took down a pirate as he rounded the corner from the far end. He might have gotten into melee if he hadn't been shouting a battle cry when he attacked.
I kept my bow out as Cicero charged down the hallway. "I'm going to get you!" he yelled in a singsong tone. I shot the pirate who tried to jump out from his room as the jester ran by. Cicero rounded the corner and I heard three more go down within seconds.
The final room was the captain's personal quarters. She was clad in heavy steel armor while her last six men were only in basic furs. They still charged the Keeper and me. What did they have to fear? They had the superior numbers.
Arrows flew and daggers slashed and all too soon it was over. My dragon side was trilling at the violence and chaos. The rage was there but it was in a controlled sense. I was channeling it to do what I wanted and to do it well. This was why I was a natural killer, because I had the soul of a dragon. If there is anything dragons excelled at it was destruction and domination.
I turned to tell Cicero that this had been a good idea and saw that he was still in the throes of battle. The captain was obviously dead, but that did not stop Cicero from repeatedly stabbing her corpse on top of her bed.
"Cicero, it's over," I said foolishly putting my hand on his shoulder. I should have known better; you don't come up from behind someone who is still in battle mode. The Keeper turned towards me with his blade drawn expecting an enemy.
"ZUN!" I barked using the disarm shout. Cicero's dagger flew out of his hand and skidded away.
"Listener?" Cicero said, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. "Listener, Cicero is sorry. He…"
My own heart was still pounding loudly from the fight. Right after a battle is when I felt most alive. It was as if fighting for my life was the only way I could truly validate it. It was also when I was most aroused. I looked down and saw that by the tightness of Cicero's pants, he felt the same way.
"Shut up," I said half affectionately, half as a growl as I pushed the jester backwards onto the blood stained bed. I managed to kick the corpse of the captain off as I threw myself onto of Cicero.
I drew my dagger and cut the leather ties that held Cicero's motley closed. I jerked the cloth away, never happier that he wore simple velvet into battle giving me easy access to what I wanted. I grabbed at my own leather cursing the buckles holding it closed. I pushed the dagger into Cicero's hand. "Cut it off," I commanded. I needed it off, now, now, now!
The Keeper took the blade and immediately sliced it down my leather causing it to part like the discarded skin of a snake. This must be what it feels like when a butterfly emerges from its cocoon. A few more flicks and the leather was blessedly gone.
My mouth crashed against Cicero's. When he moaned against me this time I didn't pull away. The dragon part was roaring too much to do anything besides sate it this time. I moved my mouth to Cicero's shoulder and bit down hard into the soft flesh. His cry was a mixture of pleasure and pain. My hands curled into claws that I raked down his fair skin.
It felt good to bleed my aggression out onto the Keeper, but I wanted more. "Resist," I commanded with my mouth on his ear. "Resist me!"
Rough hands grabbed my wrists and threw me onto my back. I strained against them, but Cicero's grip was like iron. I laughed madly as Cicero's mouth crashed against mine before traveling downward. I could feel his teeth against my skin; never biting but there nonetheless. This, this was what I wanted! My scream was unrestrained when Cicero pushed into me.
Cicero had to brace himself with one hand as he rammed into me. This allowed me to continue to rake his back with my free hand and pull him close enough for me to continue to bite his shoulder. My left wrist was still firmly pinned down and no matter how much I struggled I couldn't move it.
We were fighting, but we were making love. Just like the pleasure and pain, it didn't make a difference because they were one and the same. Finally, after years of Cicero begging, I finally let go and just fell into the Void.
Turdas 10 Sun's Height 204 4E 9:00 PM
When I awoke, I immediately felt both happy and guilty. All that tension and anger gone was wonderful. It was the first time in months I had felt anything besides pensive. But when I looked at Cicero, I felt terrible. His entire front was covered with bite marks and his back was a long line of claw marks.
"I'm sorry," I said softly as I gently touched the pale skin scarred with red.
"Why?" Cicero snorted. "It's not like you broke the skin. Our targets did much worse than you." It was true. When I looked again, I could see dozens of sword cuts and a few bruises from maces from our fight with the pirates. My bites and scratches were nothing compared to that.
Cicero gently took my chin and kissed me fully on the mouth. "It is good to see Diana's kind eyes again. They had gone away and Cicero was worried they wouldn't come back. What are a few love bites compared to that?"
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the kiss. I knew Cicero was staring at me with his inquisitive amber eyes, but for once I didn't need to stare back challenging him. As I relaxed into that kiss, I realized that I had finally given up. Not in a defeated sort of way, but finally let go of my doubt and worry. I belonged to Cicero even if I wasn't willing to say those words normal people needed to say. He wasn't mine, not fully, for he would always be bound to the Night Mother first. But I was his Listener and would be so as long as he lived. Maybe longer.
There were worse fates.