Skyrim One-Shots

Cicero x Reader ~Lonely Little Houses On The Main Street~

As the moon glittered above, you quietly twisted your key in the lock, sighing as a redhead dressed in a jester suit (he always insisted to any travel bags both of you had, and the leather was draped over his shoulder) paced behind you, from his left foot to his right, constantly shifting the weight of his body and jostling the backpack. You opened the door, the dust of the house whipping you straight in the face as you blinked hard and coughed lightly before heading in, boots leaving marks on the thick layer of dust that coated the entire house.

It seemed as if the house radiated the emptiness you felt when you first stepped in it, Lydia behind you on that fateful day. The stone surrounded campfire lay embedded in the middle of the small entry room, a set of old stairs without rails tucked over a door leading to a single alchemy table.

The compact house, dreary on a good day, sent memories sprawling down your throat and you stiffened, swallowing thickly.

"____ is upset?" came the quiet voice behind you. You merely shook your head in response, thoughts drifted off, and a silent understanding came from him as the faint plop of a bag hitting the ground echoed the abandoned house, sprouting up a sea of gray wisps which Cicero began to choke on.

He huffed. You didn't react, dull orbs focused on the empty and cold house around you.

How long had it been? 3 years?

Lydia would be out of her mind at the state of it.

All you could see was how sad the home had become, gone from well-loved and filled with glee to simply dead.

Lydia had completely changed the house, and now, it was like she had never even stepped foot in there.

How could you? How could you forsake such an important part of your life?

Heavily forced, you take a few steps to reach the stairs and slowly climb up them, small spider webs coating the ceilings. The odd companion you had choose to stray downstairs, inspecting the single table and shelf, along with the pitiful stove.

"Cicero," you start quietly, and you could hear his padding footsteps as he moved to the bottom of the stairs to listen.

"Yes?" he questioned.

"Would you be alright with staying here a few days to clean it up?" you ask, soft and rather unlike your usual behavior.

He hummed, a teasing sound that you knew would send vibrations through his chest and make his lips curl the slightest bit. "Cicero would be delighted to assist the lovely lady, so long as she tells Cicero why she must be so sorrowful in this place."

You nod with distant eyes. "Tomorrow, I will tell you the story, dear Keeper. For now, you have a choice of either sleeping with me or in the spare bedroom. Your preference is accepted both ways by myself, but I have to change out of my leathers first."

A little snicker left his mouth, "Her Illustrious Highness is most kind."

At the sound, a small smile escaped onto your mouth and you shook your head gently with a fondness gleaming on your lips that he couldn't see. "Throw me my bag, will you?"

Seconds later, a bag was flying up to you, and you caught it with ease, despite the hefty weight. You shuffled into the main bedroom, and it seemed to be less dusted than the rest of the home.

You glance to one of the windows to see it just barely cracked open.

Aha.

With the mystery solved, you dug some sleeping clothes out of your bag, swiftly changing into them and tucking the dirty laundry back in. The door creaked, and you met eyes with Cicero, mildly amused as a rather smug grin rested on his features before he flushed a bright red and stepped into the room, obviously embarrassed for being caught.

"C-Cicero did not mean-" he started instantly, and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh quiet, you sneak. Bed," you stated, barely holding back a wide smile.

He clapped, "The Listener would always forgive Cicero!"

"Of course."

"Bedtime!" he whooped seconds later then dramatically threw himself on the bed, letting a flurry of dust fly.

Instinctively, you sneezed, a light and high-pitched sound much like a small animal.

The bubbling, wheezing laughter that followed made your own face tint red as Cicero completely lost it, cackling until he nearly cried.

Least to say, it took a while for you both to settle in, nestled on top of the musty smelling covers and Cicero laying a protected arm around you while he kept you close.

What your relationship was, neither of you could describe. 

You helped him be mature, sober almost, compared to the blubbering mess he'd once been from years of solitude and no one caring about him. You were and him were restoring the old Cicero, the cackling trickster that wore light gray tunics and always a dagger in his belt and ready for sparring. The calmer, more mellow person he once was had been coming back.

Slowly. 

Not once had you discussed it, but it was implied by him a few times that it was only you, not him that had been prodding the change. Many times, he would go from being completely out of it to scarily normal, the range depending on the day. 

As difficult as it was for the both of you, when you'd asked one night, he strictly stated you needed rest and nearly forced you to sleep, avoiding the question, though it seemed he was almost contemplating himself.

Even then, it wasn't just you who had affected him. He had impacted you, too.

And he had broken down your ten mile thick walls, opened you up to the light of dawn, to the realization that you didn't always have to be alone. No matter what you did, no matter what you had gone through, he would be there all the same.

Many a night you'd wake, trembling violently after a piercing scream and eyes clenched shut for fear of what you would see if you opened them, and he would always be there, quietly at the edge of your bed, agony coating his eyes as he watched, helpless.

And after your tears had subsided, he would make you laugh once more, a sound none had ever wrought out of you after becoming Dragonborn.

After becoming a monster, and being aware of it, things tended to get lost in the void that often swallowed you whole, but he taught you how to swim in it, how to keep a hold on it and know that it had never been your fault.

And this, repairing something from before you had really gotten bad- before you had killed Alduin...

Well, it felt good.

Light.

Free.

Happy?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aweeee this is so adorable. I love how Cicero can be portrayed so many different ways- sometimes, that makes things hard, but this chapter came from my soul.

Like, ooooof.

@melliaq is the reason for the request, many thanks, many thanks, dearie!

Part 2?

Other requests? (Varying if I get requests or not -totally wonderful things!- I see a Brynjolf one coming soon. Be awaiting ;)

ANddd

We all know what comes next............

Dani out,

Adieu!