The Dragonborn's Apprentice

Gro

Cicero climbed on top of me and began undoing my leather armor. My mind told me to command him to stop, to push him off and hit him where it hurts. But I didn't. My heart, not to mention body, told me to let Cicero do whatever he wanted to me.

I didn't remember catching feelings like these for Cicero, but apparently, somewhere along this crazy journey, I had. Maybe it was the first time I saw his beautifully etched laugh lines. Maybe it was the protecting eye he always had over me. Maybe it was his soft lips ghosting over my neck...

"Cicero," I moaned. What was he doing to me? The man bit down on my jawbone. I worked my hands up his chest, peeling off his tunic. My fingertips kneaded at the flesh of his shoulders. For being so toned, the skin there was surprisingly soft.

"My Listener," Cicero gasped. My eyebrows creased, I repeated the movement. "Listener, please." He growled. I paused, frowning.

"Stop."

"What, what is it? What's the matter?" He lifted himself into a push up position. I took a moment to gaze at the sight before me. Cicero sat in between my still armored legs. His low riding tights did nothing to hide what was underneath. I knew that he was shirtless, but I had no idea when I had followed suit. I felt so open and vulnerable and... right for once in my life. This wasn't a vulnerability that I had felt before. It wasn't defenseless, it wasn't exposed. It wasn't the empty, naked feeling that being around Sanguine gave me. That man could see right through your skin and laugh at what was inside. He could take your worst fear, your most repressed memory, and eat it for breakfast with a side of eggs. There was a reason he was chosen by Sovngarde to be the Dragonborn. His skin was made of scales and his eyes of ice. His very soul was a shout, one that spoke faas zu'u joor. 'Fear me mortal.'

"Listener, you're shaking. Speak to me," Cicero cupped my face in his hands. "No more silence, Listener. No more."

"Is that all I am to you?" My voice shook as hard as my body did. "A damned listener?"

"Oh, no! Not a listener, the Listener!"

"That's it? The Listener? Why not Innocence? Why not me? Why doesn't anyone see who's really under this skin? I'm not the Listener, and I'm not the Dragonborn's apprentice!" I pushed Cicero off of me and grabbed one of Cicero's tunics off the cluttered floor.

"Listener, wait! Innocence!" I slammed the door to the Keeper's room and jammed it with a nearby chair. He shook the handle, but the door remained shut. I ignored the banging and begging coming from behind the barred door and ran, clutching the discarded tunic to my chest. I jogged lazy circles around every room in the sanctuary until I tired myself out, then I sat under the water fall and contemplated if I was as crazy as Cicero was. How did he end up so mad? Maybe in another life the Listener had fallen for the Keeper simply for the fact that he was the Keeper, and the title itself drove him to madness.

I drug my wet body out of the pond and into the Night Mother's room. I thought about changing clothes, but I couldn't find the energy. So instead I sat at the foot of the Night Mother's closed coffin and talked to her. Or talked to myself, I couldn't really tell. It was too late, and I was too tired.

"Is this the price for being the Listener? Losing your own person? And for what, voices in your head..." I cradled the damp shirt to my chest and let the tears finally roll down my cheeks. "But maybe that's a real steal... I've never really had my own person." Then, all at once, the air around me stopped, as if it was moving the second before. Two invisible arms wrapped themselves around me and lifted me to my feet. I opened the doors of the stone coffin and climbed inside. Although it was pitch black, I fell to rest with a last look of the Night Mother's glowing smile.

...

"Well, this is a sight. Wake up, we need to talk about the amulet. What did Mallory have to say? Is it authentic?" I roused myself and shook my head. All last night's memories came back in an instant. They arose so quickly that I thought I might vomit. Then I realized that I was laying inside a coffin in front of my boss... shirtless. I quickly pulled the oversized garment over my head and looked up at Astrid. She looked as unimpressed as ever. So much for the flirting that night at the inn.

"Yes, and specially made for members of the Elder Council."

"The Elder Council... Oh, now that explains quite a bit. Motierre, you naughty, naughty boy. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood to help you rise beyond your station. Delicious," now she began to look impressed. "Was Mallory willing to buy the amulet?"

"He was. Here's a letter of credit." I fished the crumpled letter from my pocket. I had completely forgotten it was in there when I had sat in the pond. Astrid took the note and squinted at the smeared ink. Very professional, Listener.

"Splendid. Then we're ready to begin. Or, specifically, you're ready to begin. After all, you're the one the Night Mother spoke to. Now then, I hope you have something nice to wear, because you're going to a wedding."

"A wedding?"

"Well, more like the public reception. It should be a lovely affair. You'll mingle with the guests, eat some cake, stab the bride. Oh yes. You've got to kill the bride. At her wedding." She giggled. "And they say romance is dead."

"Who's the target?"

"Her name is Vittoria Vici. She oversees the East Empire Company's business holdings in Solitude. The wedding is being held in that city, at the Temple of the Divines. Her death will cause an uproar, which is exactly what we want.

"You see, Vittoria Vici is the first cousin to our dear Emperor, Titus Mede II. Vici has obvious Imperial connections. Her husband has ties to the Stormcloaks. Their union is a step toward reconciliation. So, if there's a murder at the wedding not only will it stall the peace process, it will send shock waves throughout the entire Empire. The Emperor's hand will be forced. He'll have to travel to Skyrim to deal with the aftermath, and he'll find the Dark Brotherhood waiting.

"Vici is likely to address her guests frequently, as is the wedding custom. Kill her when she does that, and I promise you a significant bonus. Now go. And give my best to the bride. This is a public kill. How you do it is entirely up to you. Arrow to the throat? Knife in the belly? Your choice, so long as it's loud and messy. Because of the current political climate, people are going to assume the murder is related to the bad blood between the Legion and Stormcloaks. In any event, when Vici dies, it's going to be complete pandemonium. Best have your escape route planned out in advance."

...

I thought through my plan a thousand and one times. This wasn't going to be easy, especially not alone, but that's the way it had to be. I packed a bag for myself and made my way out of the sanctuary, catching "good lucks" and goodbyes as I went. Only one person did not address me on my way out.

Cicero's door wasn't barred anymore, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Not that it mattered to me. The less attention that I got from him, the better. I didn't need that dead weight following me on this mission. I was already going to be bringing enough dead weight back.