A/N: Thanks to everyone who left a review for the last chapter. I'm glad to see my beta reader had overworried.
I opened my eyes to the darkness of my room. For a moment I couldn't remember what year it was much less what day. I snuggled deeper into my pillows, my right arm tucked underneath my head. I could feel the embrace of a hand around my waist. I smiled and spooned closer into the hug.
"Cicero?"
"Yes, my Listener?"
"I dreamed you died," I said softly. I could feel the remains of tears on my face from the terrible dream where my Fool had passed into the Void to leave me alone in the world.
"I did die, remember?" Cicero whispered in my ear. I rolled over and looked at the slightly glowing blue figure of my Keeper. No, Cicero was not my Keeper any more, but my spectral assassin instead.
"Oh, right," I barely managed to say through the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry I fell asleep before dismissing you. I forgot again."
"I do not mind," Cicero smiled gently. "I used to watch you sleep all the time when I was alive. Do you have any further need of me? If not, I would return to the Void for a while."
Always. I always need you, I wanted to say. "No, you are dismissed. I'll get ready for the day and call you back later."
"Many thanks, my Listener," Cicero said solemnly as he bowed. His form faded to nothing back to the Void so he could report to the Night Mother and see if she personally needed him for anything.
Once he was gone, I laid back onto the bed and threw my arm over my eyes. My head pounded from holding in tears that threatened to flood down my face. I could tell it was going to be a bad day for me. Waking from the dream of Cicero's death and being forced to deal with it was always a bad day. I often just stayed in my room all day doing nothing but staring at the ceiling weeping uncontrollably.
Not today, I promised myself. I rolled out of the bed and lit a candle. I went to the dresser and pulled out some fresh clothes. I would take a trip out. Get some fresh air and ride under the blue sky again; anything to be away from Sanctuary for a while.
Morndas 15 Sun's Height 230 4E 9:00 AM
"Siltal, I'm going to take a trip to High Hrothgar," I told the High Elf Speaker. I had a backpack full of warm furs to protect against the cold thrown over one shoulder and my bow on the other. My plain leather armor creaked as I settled my weapon on the table so I could grab some food for my travels and a bite of breakfast.
"Are there any new contracts from the Night Mother before you go?" she asked. Her golden eyes looked me over as I moved around the table grabbing bread and cheese. The necromancer was usually solemn, but today she had a small smile on her face. It often fell to her to check on me when I had not emerged from either my room or the Night Mother's crypt for days, so any time I was being active was a positive sign for her.
I don't remember much of the first year after Cicero died. Vague memories of sitting in front of the Night Mother's coffin or crouching in front of Cicero's corpse where it had been interred protectively near his Matron. I did little more than stare into the Void lost in my own sorrow and feelings of helplessness. I had never lost anyone close to me before mostly because I didn't allow people to get close. I was supposed to be able to defeat anything in my path. I had defeated Alduin World-Eater and stopped him from destroying realty, so why couldn't I have stopped old age from taking my Cicero?
"No, Mother has nothing in reserve. I'll probably be gone a few weeks, hopefully no more than a month if everything goes well," I said around a mouthful of grapes.
The seven thousand step journey up the mountain was never quickly done. I could have summoned Odahviing to fly me up in mere minutes, but I wanted the journey more than the destination. It had been years since I had last been up to the Greybeard monastery and I hoped that Paarthurnax had finally returned. Thirty years and as far as I knew, the old dragon was still out in the world preaching the Way of the Voice.
Of the original Greybeards I had known, only Arngeir still lived. Not surprising since they were old when I met them. Arngeir had succumbed to the bane of the Voice decades ago and rarely spoke more than my title when I visited. The new spokesperson of the Greybeards didn't care for me at all and would no doubt give me hassle when I arrived, but that was her problem, not mine.
"Obviously you're in charge while I'm gone," I said as Siltal handed me a small healer's kit. I nodded my thanks before cramming it into my backpack. It was common practice to take bandages and sewing kit in case one was attacked by bandits or worse. Gods knew I still had to kill the occasional dragon that didn't have enough sense to just pass me by when they spotted me. I started up the stairs to the Black Door. "Standard procedure and all that."
"Of course, Listener," Siltal said. "Kill well and often."
"Kill well and often," I said. I summoned Shadowmere and mounted her quickly. Without a backward glance, I rode southeast towards my goal.
Middas 17 Sun's Height 230 4E 1:00 PM
"High Hrothgar? Really? When were you going to summon me again?" Cicero scowled. His blue spectral form sat sidesaddle behind me on Shadowmere as we started beginning the journey at the base of the Throat of the World, Tamriel's tallest mountain.
I had stopped at Ivarstead to gather supplies for the Greybeards. I remembered there was once a kind Nord who would occasionally make the trip up the mountain to leave food and other necessities for the monks at the base of the stairs. He never met them or spoke to them, but without fail he would travel the seven thousand steps to leave food for them without expecting pay or thanks. I couldn't recall his name now; he had died a long time ago for he had been an older man when I met him, but his generosity never faded from my memory. Now whenever I had a chance to visit, I did the same thing partly because the Greybeards had been my friends and partly in that man's memory.
"I don't recalling summoning you now, yet here you are," I said sarcastically as Shadowmere cantered up the first set of steps.
"Good thing too," Cicero said. It wasn't too cold yet being at the base of the mountain and the height of summer, but snow was already on the ground here. I had wrapped my first layer of furs about me, but Cicero showed no signs of feeling the cold. "I wonder sometimes if you're trying to get killed. High Hrothgar holds the only person in Tamriel who holds any threat to you and away you go!"
"Didn't you once scold me for trying to learn something from pacifists?" I retorted recalling when Cicero had come to High Hrothgar to retrieve me from my self-exile after I had lost my temper and beaten him savagely.
"That was different. That was when it was only old men who truly believed in their foolish philosophy," Cicero said. "Things change. Everything changes. No matter how hard you try to hold on, time flows like sand in your hands and nothing stands still. Surely I taught you at least that much in our time together."
There had been many changes when the Night Mother bequeathed her "gift" to me of a spectral assassin as my personal bodyguard. The obvious had been that Cicero was completely blue and mostly incorporeal now. He could be solid enough for a fight and had killed his fair share of my opponents when I felt like going on a mission for Solitude, but usually his form would simply distort if I happened to touch him like wisps of fog in the early morning.
Cicero was also more solemn now. He didn't dance or sing any more. And in the two years he had been back I had not heard any hint of laughter from my fool except his first words to me"Let's kill someone." He was still, too still. Not being alive allowed Cicero to be the perfect assassin in many ways since he didn't need to worry about breathing, eating, sleeping or any other mortal needs.
It was odd for him to not be constantly worrying about the Night Mother's needs. No thoughts of picking flowers or whether he had done an acceptable job of oiling the corpse. No longer did he fret over his beloved Mother for now Cicero would return to the Void to personally inquire her desires and hear her blessed words for himself instead of relying on me.
Worst of all, he was sane. A terrible complaint to be fair, but it was there all the same. Cicero no longer spoke in third person or morbid couplets. He argued with me now, insistent that I was wrong and I should reconsider my actions. This was the man Garnag remembered as Chickpea and not my Cicero. I wondered if I had loved the jester and not the assassin, and it bothered me.
Maybe that's why I mourned Cicero's death so much three years after it had happened. Surely I should have started healing more, but every time I made progress there was Cicero reminding me silently how much I had not known of who he was before he came to Skyrim.
Not that I ever shared who I was before Skyrim. I had never talked about my life in Bravil other than I had lived there as a girl. Once I had become of age, I had grabbed my bow and never looked back.
"If she tries anything, I'll slit her throat regardless of what you wish," Cicero promised.
"You do that and you had better consider a Tenet broken," I snapped back. "I'm still your superior and I want no violence while I'm in High Hrothgar. If I have to, I'll leave first." I turned to face Cicero. "In fact, I would prefer if you weren't there when I arrived."
"As you wish, oh great and powerful Listener," Cicero snarled. "I'll return when you've had your fill of nostalgia." One second he was there, the next gone.
I growled in frustration before hunching over Shadowmere and encouraging her to run up the snow covered steps. The demon horse snorted but followed my command. I didn't fear that she might slip on the slick stone and cause serious injury to either of us. Shadowmere had never had a misstep in all the time she's been mine and I trusted her.
Maybe I was being reckless; it wouldn't be the first time. All my life I have been relatively fearless. I wasn't scared of bandits, spiders, blood, walking undead or any of the many things normal people were horrified by. As I grew older and more powerful, I was less and less scared of anything. What did I have to fear? I was the Dragonborn and the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, guaranteed to live a long time and trained to kill people before they could kill me.
It was very likely that I was submitting to the assassin's curse of overconfidence. We were death incarnate delivering oblivion to those who had drawn the attention of the Night Mother answering the Black Sacrament. Time and time again an assassin must break into places with impossible security, kill their target, and escape without dying. You do it often enough and you think nothing can touch you. Many an assassin died still believing that after getting a cold or after a random bandit managed to slit their throat. So sad, yet so funny.
I could have brought an initiate along, someone to watch my back as I slept or to flank with during a fight. But I had enjoyed the quiet journey of sleeping under the night sky, preparing simple meals, and just having my thoughts on the scenery as I traveled. It had been peaceful and calming. Until Cicero had turned up again.
There were tender moments like the other day when I woke and he was there holding me, but more often than not Cicero was merely a silent observer as I tried to live normally again. When we did talk it was more like our last conversation where he called me a fool in so many words and I angrily dismissed him.
Fighting was nothing new between Cicero and me. Often I thought that was why we were able to work as a couple. I would get angry or frustrated at something, yell at him, he would retort sarcastically, I would push him, he would push back, and we'd tumble into the bed together. There had always been the kisses, hugs, and dancing to leech the anger away. Now there was just the anger.
Loredas 20 Sun's Height 230 3:00 PM
"Well, aren't you the prettiest damn Greybeard I ever saw," I said grinning widely. I had arrived to High Hrothgar to find the spokeswoman of the Greybeards waiting for me at the entrance. I was still astride Shadowmere near the place where pilgrims left offerings for the monks.
"That wasn't funny the first time and it's not funny now," the older looking woman growled as she pulled down her hood. Lydia shook her shoulder length hair, all steel gray now, free of the confines of the hood. Although she had been a Greybeard for fifteen years, Lydia still wore her warrior's braid. Typical Nord sentiment of "never forgive, never forget." The lines on her face gave her a permanent frown exaggerated by the scar Cicero had left on one side of her mouth the last time those two had crossed blades. "You are not welcome here, assassin."
"Lydia, please," I sighed. "After all that mediation and contemplation, you still haven't found it in your heart to forgive me?" I held up the bag full of food I had purchased in Ivarstead. "I brought a peace offering."
"I want nothing you have to offer," Lydia sneered. "Where is your pet clown?"
"Cicero," I paused. It was still hard to say even now. "He died."
"Good," Lydia smiled bitterly. "I'll be sure to burn an offering to Talos for finally answering my prayers. I hope it was long and painful."
Although I had been standing about thirty feet away down a flight of stairs, I was suddenly at Lydia's throat holding my Blade of Woe against her neck. Lydia had fallen backwards and I was straddling her waist. I had to have Shouted the whirlwind sprint, but I didn't remember the words coming out of my mouth.
"I know you hated him, but Cicero was my dearest friend, so if I were you I would watch my tongue while it was still in my mouth. Understood?" A drop of blood beaded on the tip of my blade as Lydia slowly and carefully nodded her consent. It was only with the barest of restraint that I was able to sheath my dagger. "I'm going to visit Arngeir now."
I stalked away from the fallen form of my former friend. I could feel Lydia's glare on my back as I left. Part of me had hoped she would finally find forgiveness when I told her Cicero died. That she would comfort me as she once had as my housecarl.
After I had killed Ulfric, Lydia had taken the leadership of the Stormcloak Rebellion. With her reputation as the Dragonborn, Ulfric's legacy, and all the claimed territory the Stormcloaks had accumulated, the rebels could have still won the civil war if it had not been for my deal with Elisif the Fair. The widow of King Torygg would summon the Brotherhood to kill strategic opponents keeping the rebellion without solid leadership. I often went when Elisif was our contact because I knew she would only ask to kill the most foul politicians and soldiers. It comforted me to fulfill my role as assassin without staining my hands further with the blood of the innocent.
The only reason Elisif never targeted Lydia was I had begged for her to spare the former housecarl. I convinced her that Lydia was as much of a victim of the war as she was a general. Ulfric had used his superior social manipulation skills to make Lydia into his personal puppet and she shouldn't pay the price with her life. Elisif had agreed and spared the Nord despite hating her for falsely claiming the Dragonborn title.
Losing the war, Ulfric, and her thane had been too much for Lydia. She retired more or less quietly to High Hrothgar to study the Way of the Voice after the peace treaty for Skyrim was signed. I didn't know how much of the thu'um Lydia had mastered over the years, but she had surely progressed further than the others if she had been able to create the unrelenting force shout while still on the battlefield years before.
Once I was inside the monastery, I found one of the other Greybeards, a younger man in his forties, and gave him the supplies I had brought. He nodded his thanks to me before leaving to put them away. I went to the private rooms of the Greybeards and found Arngeir in his room resting on his bed.
The last time I had been here had been about five years before. Even then Arngeir had looked ancient and did little more than nap by the fire in a comfortable chair. Now he was cocooned in many furs in an attempt to keep the cold out and keep what little warmth his body could create in. The elder should have been moved somewhere warmer, I thought. Most of Skyrim was cold, but the Throat of the World was the worst for it never knew summer. In the middle of the hottest month of the year, it was so bitterly cold I was wearing two layers of the heaviest furs I could find. I had no idea how Arngeir stood it.
I knelt by his bed and took his hand. The skin was practically translucent and I could make out individual veins. "Hello, old friend," I said softly.
Filmy blue eyes slowly turned towards me. "Dovahkiin," the Greybeard whispered. The room still shook from his voice. The power of the thu'um washed over me, not harming me in the slightest. I was stronger in the Voice than he now and only words spoken with ill intent had any chance of hurting me.
"I won't trouble you much from your rest, Arngeir," I said. "Is Paarthurnax here?" I sighed when Arngeir shook his head. Since the Greybeards channeled the thu'um whenever they talked, it took a great effort for even the simplest of words. "Do you know if he will return soon?" Another negative shake. "Thank you." I leaned forward and kissed the man on his forehead. I doubted I would see him alive the next time I returned.
I quietly left the room and found Lydia waiting for me. "You could have just as easily asked me," she scolded, "instead of bothering that man during his final days."
"He's much nicer than you," I said simply as I walked past her. "Besides, I would like to think someone here likes seeing me."
"There are days I curse you finding that stranded wagon," Lydia said sadly. I turned and saw sorrow on her face instead of anger for the first time in what felt like forever. "I wish you had never met that jester."
"I don't," I said, but it was a lie. Every morning I woke to an empty bed I briefly cursed how Cicero had stolen my heart as easily as any thief in Riften could steal a coin purse from an unsuspecting victim. "Please tell Paarthurnax, if he ever returns, that I look for his council. I will take my leave." I really had no idea what I would ask the ancient dragon, but surely he would understand better than anyone the pain of living long after the rest of your loved ones had gone into Oblivion.
I felt Lydia's hand on my shoulder. It clenched for a moment, giving silent strength before falling away. It was the most she could allow herself to show sympathy to me. We were friends for a short time and enemies much longer. If I could turn back the clock and do better by the Nord, I would—but I can't and must make do with what we have. I nodded my thanks before going back outside to find Shadowmere. Maybe when I returned some time in the future, five or ten years from now, Lydia would be ready to speak to me and we could finally make amends.
Tirdas 23 Sun's Height 230 10:00 PM
"So, how did it go?" Cicero asked tauntingly. I had camped a few hours outside of Ivarstead for the night when my spectral assassin had returned as he promised he would.
"As terrible as you could have wished," I responded, "not that I doubt you weren't watching from the Void the whole time laughing."
"Hm, at least half of that is right," Cicero smirked as he leaned against me. His cold lips were against my ear. "The Dread Father doesn't tolerate laughter in his court."
"Not even from his jester?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't hold that particular honor," Cicero said. "The jester, my old friend, keeps Father entertained when he wishes."
"Your old contract?" I asked. I stopped stroking my campfire so I could look at Cicero properly. "He's in the Void too?"
"Of course! I did send his soul there personally," Cicero said disdainfully.
"Then why do you still wear that?" I asked gesturing to the jester's garb Cicero wore.
"It is how you remember me," he shrugged. "I suppose I could make my form look like this," he wavered to a different style of shrouded armor I wasn't familiar with, probably the Cyrodiil version, "or this," and he changed to his Keeper's robes. "What do you prefer?"
"It doesn't matter to me," I said stiffly.
"But it does matter to you," Cicero said. He crouched uncomfortably close to me back in his jester's motley. "I can tell. We are bound together, you and I." Cicero reached out and pulled on the golden chain I wore around my neck. Dangling from it was the ruby and gold ring I had given him in exchange for the silver and amethyst one he had placed on my finger before the Night Mother, more or less marrying us before his goddess.
"Don't touch me!" I snapped jerking away. When I saw Cicero holding his ring, I remembered how he said he would wear it until the day he died because I would want it when he was gone. The memory was so sharp and painful that I thought I would start to cry and I couldn't bear the thought of Cicero watching me weep over his passing.
I moved to unroll my sleeping furs partly to put some space between the ghost and me and partly to finish settling down for the night. Now that I wasn't high in the mountains, it was pleasant enough to sleep outside without much protection. The summer wind felt good after the cold touch of the Keeper.
"My, my, my, you are so cranky anymore," Cicero said sarcastically. "I know what your problem is. You need to get laid."
"Shut up!" I yelled. I turned and Cicero was already next to me, smiling cruelly. Before I could say anything else, he pushed me to the ground so I fell onto my bedroll.
"It's true," he continued standing over me. "You have been with neither man nor woman since I died. Don't you think three years is long enough?"
"Are you suggesting I summon Shadowmere back and ride until I find some willing young thing to make me forget about you?" I asked crawling backwards away from the looming ghost. "Kind of hard considering it's likely you would be there giving commentary the whole time."
"Is that what is stopping you?" Cicero asked as he advanced with me. "Don't want me watching?"
"No," I admitted. I hadn't found anyone else because there never could be anyone else. No one ever had or could compare to Cicero. He had been my other half for however brief a time and I didn't want to settle for "almost good enough" ever again.
"You're really quite stupid, you know," Cicero said. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around me pinning me down.
"What?" I asked struggling against his cold embrace.
"Mother sent me back to serve you as I did in life and not once have you thought to request the service you seemed to enjoy most," Cicero explained. One hand released my side to grab my jaw so I was looking him in the eye. A finger trailed down my jaw to my chin and back.
"You're insane," I stuttered. My heart was beating too fast. He couldn't be implying what I thought he was. I managed to pull my hands up so they were against his chest. I didn't feel velvet crinkle under my hands as I had done hundreds of times, but just solid ethereal force.
"Not this time," Cicero murmured as he leaned forward to kiss me.
His lips met mine and forced them open so his tongue could invade my mouth. I tasted nothing and like his chest it was just ethereal given form, no texture either. I looked to his face and saw that Cicero's eyes were closed.
I pushed away and slapped my guardian. "What did you do that for?" he yelled.
"I don't know who you are, but you are not Cicero!" I screamed. For the first time in years, the force of my voice made the world around me shake. Trees rattled causing birds to take flight from their nighttime roost. "My Cicero wore velvet, tasted of sweetrolls, and always, always, ALWAYS kissed me with his eyes open. And he was most certainly not blue!"
We glared silently at each other for what felt like an eternity as the nighttime sounds slowly came back. I was shaking violently and tears streamed down my face that I couldn't stop no matter how much I tried. I felt ashamed at the trail of snot on my face, but had nothing to wipe it off without unless I was willing to use my sleeve. At least I was able to hold back the sobs that cramped my chest by focusing on breathing one step at a time.
"I must return to the Void," Cicero said formally as he stood. He gave an ironic mock bow. "I hope you don't mind." Before I could reply, he was gone.
Fredas 26 Sun's Height 230 6:00 PM
"Listener, welcome home," Siltal said when she saw me stomp into Sanctuary. Her expression was doubtful, but she hopefully asked, "How was your trip?"
"Horrible," I growled. I walked right past her and into the passage that led into the catacombs where the Night Mother's crypt was. Only the Dawnstar Speaker and I knew where Mother's body was carefully hidden away from the world.
"I hope he's there with you right now!" I yelled at the sarcophagus. "I hope Cicero is there complaining about how unreasonable I am being so you can tell him to never, ever do anything like that again!" I continued along that line of ranting for a few minutes and when I finished I was out of breath and shaking.
I wondered if the Night Mother would respond to my threats and screams, but she remained silent. Not once had she ever intervened between her fighting children; why should I expect different now when her "gift" to me had come so close to forcing himself on me? I supposed I should be grateful she didn't turn her wrath on me for speaking so disrespectfully to her.
My anger vented, I turned to leave, but stopped at the alcove closest to the coffin. Here was where we had interred Cicero's body, his last request to be near the Night Mother in death as he had in life. Siltal had carefully preserved the body and enchanted it so if anything ever threatened his Matron, Cicero's remains would rise to protect her. I ran my hand over his fine red and silver hair to his faded motley. I thought about kissing his forehead before I left, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had seen Cicero do the same to the Night Mother as his ending ceremony of oiling her and it never bothered me. It just wasn't something I could do too.
Fredas 26 Sun's Height 230 10:00 PM
"Why am I not surprised to find you in here?" Cicero asked. He was standing with the wardrobe doors open and staring at me. His blue essence filled the wardrobe I had crawled into to sulk and think. "I never understood your fascination with this little hobby."
"Oh, you know me," I said vaguely. My eyes felt puffy and hurt from the invasion of light. I looked at his Keeper robes. "I see you changed your outfit."
"I did," he said ignoring the jab. "Come out, I wish to speak with you without dresses hanging in my eyes."
"I'd rather stay," I said curling up tighter in the corner.
"I insist," Cicero said grabbing my wrist and pulling me out. He spun me around so I was in his arms and he started a slow waltz. I was so surprised that we were dancing I followed his lead instead of resisting. The silk skirt of my nightgown flared out as we whirled to silent music. "I never really know how to start a conversation with you, you know. Sometimes you're completely open-minded and will listen to anything I have to say and other times you just shut down and start yelling. It's quite vexing."
I opened my mouth to retort, but Cicero placed a finger over my mouth. "Let me finish." He spun me in a circle before continuing, "The simple fact is I love you. It's one of the topics that always made you unreasonable and I did try my best to limit saying it, but it was true then and it's true now. I love you."
I could feel my body flushing as Cicero talked. I still had not said the Binding Words normal people say despite my vow to do so once Cicero had returned as a ghost. How could I when he was so different now? I envied the ease he was able to say it.
"I want you to realize the extent of my feelings because I went directly to the Dread Father and asked him a boon. I told him and Mother of your discontent and that I was unable to fulfill my duties. In order to do so, I said I would need a body.
"Do you know what the Dread Lord did?" Cicero said. He held me in front of him and looked me in the eye. His eyes were haunted if such a thing could be said about a ghost. "He laughed. Sithis, Dread Lord of the Void, first before the Aedra and Daedra, laughed at me. I didn't think it was even possible.
"Mother took pity as I stood there shaking and wondering if I would be unmade for my impertinence. She said she would grant my request, but there would be conditions. First, I could only maintain the form for no more than five hours at a time and for every minute I spent that way I would have to return to the Void for twice that amount.
"The second condition was," Cicero paused, "more difficult. I would have to merge with the jester. He had been my constant companion in life and would be so again if I was to be given a body." He sat me on the edge of the bed. Ghostly blue eyes were pained as he said, "I agreed."
Cicero's clothing changed from his Keeper's robes to the jester's motley. The spectral blue was slowly replaced with red and black. I could feel it change under my hands to the familiar velvet. Flesh became healthy pink and hot to the touch. Hair darkened to fiery red. Finally, the eyes were once against amber laughing and teasing.
"Ooh, Listener, did you miss Cicero?" the jester teased. I could see both of them there, the assassin and the clown, in those intense, expressive eyes. I nodded wordlessly causing him to laugh. Thin lips pressed against mine, eager and hungry. Pink tongue; wet, warm and rough, fought against mine for dominance. Golden eyes sparkling as he watched my reaction.
I moaned softly and could not stop from closing my eyes as I leaned into the kiss. When we broke apart, I was slightly breathless. I licked my lips enjoying how wet they felt.
"Oh, for Mara's sake," Cicero said exasperated, "all that hassle Diana gave Cicero for kissing with his eyes closed and she does the same thing." It was the first time he had ever sworn by anyone other than Sithis or the Night Mother and it made me laugh.
I am sorry is what I meant to say, but instead the words, "I love you," flew out of my lips. I gasped in surprise and wanted to take them back, but they were already gone and in Cicero's ear.
Cicero's eyes widened in shock before he grinned foolishly. "Is that all loyal Cicero had to do for Hecate to admit how she feels? Die, come back, and beg a body from the most feared of deities? Pfft, if Cicero had known then he would have done so years ago!"
"I love you!" I said laughing as I grabbed Cicero's face and planted kisses all over. "I love you, I love you, I love you!" It was like a dam breaking and letting loose the flood. No sense holding back now or ever again.
At some point Cicero's motley had become untied and my hands were running down his chest marveling at the feel of his body hair. When I touched his pants line, my hand jerked away as if on fire. "Oh, don't stop, please don't stop. Cicero didn't come this far to play cards with Hecate."
For a moment, my hand hovered hesitating, but Cicero grabbed it and plunged it under the cloth. I groaned at the touch of hair and hot flesh as I grasped him. Cicero cried against the hollow of my neck as I stroked him. The bodice of my gown was undone and gloved hands flew over my breasts messaging them. Cicero stopped to pull one glove off with his teeth before returning his attention to touching me. I loved the different feel of skin and velvet on my flesh.
"We always seem to end up here," I managed to say as Cicero pushed me so I was on my back on my large bed. His kisses trailed down my chest until he was licking and kissing my nipple with enthusiasm. "Me in my nightgown with you on top of me half naked. You're not going to run away this time, are you?"
"Never again," he promised around a mouthful of breast. His ungloved hand stole under my skirt and hiked it up so he could run his hand over my thigh. Deft fingers pushed aside the thin cloth of my smallclothes to touch underneath. I cried out in pleasure as he slid in and out touching me with years of experience. "We'll be together forever."
"Not until one of us dies horribly in service to the Night Mother?" I teased. My hands were firmly wrapped around strands of red hair. Cicero's mouth traveled further south on my stomach with one hand impatiently pulling cloth out of the way.
"Been there, done that," Cicero scoffed. He nuzzled the area between my legs before grabbing the cloth with his teeth and tearing it away. "Highly overrated." Then he dipped his head back down so his tongue could flit over my clit as he stroked me.
My breathing was ragged as I chanted, "I love you" over and over in time to my hips thrusting up to meet Cicero's tongue as he lashed it against me. I was quickly spiraling towards orgasm for it had been a long time for any type of pleasure for me. I had been as celibate as the Greybeard monks and had not even touched myself in three years.
When I came, I Shouted so hard I think I blacked out for a second. The force of my scream made even heavy furniture fall over. I could hear footsteps and a knock on the door with the muffled voice of Siltal asking, "Listener, is everything okay?"
"Y-yes," I managed to call back. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. I'm busy. I'll talk to you later."
"Very good, ma'am." Her tone was hesitant, but Siltal respected my request and left. I had never been more relieved to hear footsteps fading away.
Cicero had taken advantage of the distraction to shuck the rest of his clothes. He pulled off his jester's cap and playfully placed it on my head. "I always loved when you wore your motley," he said affectionately. "We were officially two of a kind and Cicero felt complete." He kissed me and I could taste my sex on his lips.
"Hecate loves Cicero," I pouted playfully mimicking his speech. I threw my arms around him and drew my jester close so we were a tangle of limbs. "Hecate wants Cicero. Hecate needs Cicero."
"And have him, you shall," my Fool of Hearts promised. One hand slid under my hip and pushed me upward to provide easier access. The tip of his erection brushed against me, teasing as it rubbed my sensitive area, before plunging fully.
My hands clenched from pain on Cicero's back leaving red marks. It was too much too quickly after too long. I was still tight. I bit down on the Keeper's shoulder as he moved against me, my hips bucking with his. It hurt, but it felt good. I mewled and groaned through clenched teeth as I bit across Cicero's skin. I whispered, "I love you" over and over in his ear as I nibbled on the lobe.
Tension was building again; the heat between my legs was almost unbearable. A thrust of the hip, a touch of a hand on my breast, mouth on neck licking and nipping was overwhelming me. I could feel Cicero getting close as he thickened in me and with one final thrust we came together. This time when I screamed, Cicero placed one hand over my mouth to muffle it.
"Don't want to worry Siltal," he joked, "or she may bash the door down to save you."
"I'm surprised that you were able to finish," I panted. I vaguely gestured at him. "I wasn't sure how fully functional this body was."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises," Cicero preened.
"Is that what you're calling it nowadays?" I asked arching an eyebrow. We both laughed as he took back his cap from me.
I fell back against my pillow; eyes heavy from exhaustion. I couldn't remember the last time I had slept well and sex always left me blissfully drained. I grabbed Cicero's hand so our fingers were entwined. I didn't want to sleep now that I had my Fool back.
"Sleep," Cicero said. "Cicero will return to the Void to serve his penance and will be here when Hecate awakens."
I wanted to say "I love you" one last time before my Keeper left, but I couldn't coherently form the words. My eyes fluttered shut and I mumbled something incoherent as Cicero fluttered a butterfly kiss on my lips before placing a firmer kiss on my forehead. He stepped back and bowed before returning to his spectral form. A wave of his hand and Cicero was gone to the Void.
I snuggled deeper into my pillows and furs smiling. I wasn't worried. He would be back tomorrow and I would tell him then. Tomorrow. There was always tomorrow. We had all the time in the world.
A/N: Well, Hecate finally said it. I really liked this chapter despite sometimes getting stuck when writing romance between those two. Oddly enough, this chapter affected me much more than Cidhna Mine. Maybe because I had always known that Cicero was going to die some day, but Hecate finally saying the Binding Words took even me by surprise.