A Jester and His Boy

3.) "The Fool of Hearts"

Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone of the Elder Scroll series. I did not create Skyrim, though if I did, Cicero would be more involved in every other faction.

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There was screaming on the other side of the fort, but it seemed like I was surrounded in silence while I continued laughing and giggling at the way my breath twisted and disappeared.

The screaming stopped, so I stopped laughing, and waited for something, anything, to happen.

I heard footsteps. They kept getting louder. There was mumbling along with them.

"Need to get Mother some flowers... Pretty, pretty flowers."

The voice was high-pitched and male. I didn't recognize it, though I didn't expect to.

The man stepped into the light. He was dressed like a jester. His red hair went to his shoulders, and his clothes had a red and black color scheme. The shirt was buttoned with gold buttons and had golden thread, and, between you and me, he was a bit on the small and short side. He continued mumbling.

"Bandits, skeevers... Oh! How did The Fool of Hearts come across a place so FILTHY?" He inhales shakily. "By doing Mother's bidding, of course. The Fool of Hearts always does Mother's bidding, even if it means killing a filthy bandit running an underground fighting business."

He passed the cage with the skeevers and wolves, all of which were dead. He commented on their filth, and proceeded to the cage I was in.

I didn't bother to stop breathing as he looked at the slaughtered children.

I completely ignored his presence because of my hopelessness. What purpose would this man have to help me?

He continued looking, for any sign of life I suppose, when I could see out of the corner of my eye that his eyes stopped on me. Perhaps he saw my breath spinning through the air. That seemed to be the only thing near me that moved.

It seemed like an eternity went by, and I still didn't look at him.

Finally, he bent his knees to squat; he removed both of his gloves, and slowly put one hand in the cage.

I finally looked at his face.

I was confused, if not frightened by the hand that was in the cage. The bandits never put their hands in the cages. They only did that if they wanted to grab us and pull us towards them so we would slam into the cages and get hurt, or if they just tried to slap us. They expected us to extend our hands to them to be given our food or to be bought, not vice versa. But this man was reaching INTO the cage, trying to help me. It was almost like he was reaching into me, trying to find my heart. If I hadn't known better, I would've jumped on that arm and not let go of it. Even though I did not trust this man, referred by himself as "The Fool of Hearts," I felt an odd, comforting feeling coming from the outstretched hand.

I looked into his eyes, trying to find something I could read. I was initially searching for some kind of intent to hurt. I found nothing of the sort. As I said before, I didn't trust him, but I was in no position to turn down any sort of help.

The loss of blood made me weak, and my movements were slow. I brought my elbow in and propped myself up on it. I used my other hand to pull my tired body along the ground towards him. When I was close enough, I lifted my small, dirty hand and placed it into his.

It was warm, soft, and gentle, but also had firmness in the grip. His hand tightened around mine and he smiled at me.

Our eyes never broke apart. I don't know what he was searching for or what I was searching for. We just kept staring at each other.

He let go of my hand, placed it through a higher hole, and brought it down upon me. I cringed because I thought he was going to hurt me. A year with the bandits made me live in fear of everything.

He saw my cringe and paused. After a few seconds, he took his bare hand, rubbed my head and ran his fingers through my dirty hair. As he pulled away, I longed for more of his warm and loving touch. It was something that I hadn't felt in a long time.

He pulled a key from his pocket, and got the cage open with it. I'm assuming he got it off of the body of a bandit. He opened the door, and once again lowered himself to my height and extended his hand. After a few minutes of difficulty, I stood, then fell. When I looked up at his face, I saw pity. I stood again, and used the cage as support. I limped until I was in front of him. Once I was close enough, I fell into his arms.

My hands attached to each other behind his neck, and I laid my head on his shoulder, and I put on the biggest smile I could muster.

I was so happy.

I was so happy that I was out of the cage, not to fight some animal, but to maybe get out of the dreadful place. I was so happy that this man that I have never met before, took me into his arms, stoked my hair, and gave me something I hadn't received in nearly a year.

Love.

Tears suddenly overflowed from my eyes. I couldn't stop them. It seemed like the bottle that held all my emotions had been shaken and the top finally popped off. I didn't stop crying. I couldn't.

While one hand was against the small of my back, he continued stroking my hair with the other. He lifted me off of my feet, while whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

"You are safe now. Oh yes. You don't deserve to be in such a filthy and absolutely horrible place. The Fool of Hearts is here and he will protect you."

He continued to mutter to me as we left the fort. While going through, if I tried to look up and around, he gently pushed my head back down. "You've seen enough. You needn't look upon such despicable and ugly people. ...even if they ARE dead." He giggled.

I looked down at Eltrys' ring instead. Perhaps everything is possible. After all, someone saved me. But now that I was saved, what could I have faith in?

I looked up at the Fool, and I decided to have faith in him.

Then I thought about how that last statement sounded.

Yes, let's put some faith in a FOOL. I giggled.

The Fool giggled as well.