The Dragonborn's Apprentice

Erei Dinok

Solitude was aptly named. From its clear cobblestone paths to its emptied shops and vendors, I was the only soul to be found in the capital of Skyrim. The usually bustling streets were calm, save for a few skeevers who had scurried up from the sewers, taking advantage of the lack of foot traffic from above. A sign creaked above me. Radiant Raiment, Skyrim's most popular clothing boutique, or so I'd heard. I hadn't had the pleasure of owning anything from there. Dented steel armor and torn, dirty tunics were more Sanguine's style. Maybe now that I had a few extra septims in my pocket, I would indulge myself. I curiously poked my head into the shop's door. No seamstress, no merchant, no dresses on the shelves. I wasn't too surprised. Every fancy article must have been sold out due to circumstance. And with no dresses to sell, there was no need to stick around to sell them. Besides, you'd be a little late if you tried to buy a dress right about now.

A set of church bells rang in the distance, reminding me of my objective. I refastened my Imperial shield to my forearm awkwardly. Imperial armor wasn't great for sneaking and it did absolutely nothing for masking the sounds of movement, but there was no way that I was getting into the guard tower without it. I picked it up from one of the closets in the sanctuary. They seemed to have at least one of everything there: guard armor from every hold, Thieves Guild attire, mage's robes. But as they say, clothes make the man, and the man I was trying to pass as was an Imperial guard.

Passing the guards out in the open with ease was a nostalgic feeling, surely not one an assassin should have ever been used to knowing. I attempted to remain calm as I walked across the stone bridge which I would be scaling down in a few moments. A few moments. That's all it would take. That's all it did take, really. The draw of my bow, the notch of the arrow, the thunk of the arrowhead into the chest of the blooming bride. The ghostly anxiety that the city had once given me had suddenly intensified. The turning of heads was almost audible. The creaking of chairs, the instant gasping, the screaming, the rush of guards into the town square. I could hear it all. The only silence was the tranquility of finally residing in the shadows cast by Solitude's giant stone walls, the only place where I belonged.

I ran until my clanking Imperial boots could carry me no further. I tore off my armor faster than I ever had and sank into the wet dirt below me. I killed the bride. I completed my contract. I survived. My fingers dug deep into the dirt. I was still a part of this world. The last thing I saw before slipping into impenetrable darkness was a satin gloved hand reaching for me and a beautifully pained Imperial smile.

...

It was night by the time I'd awoken. My cheeks and nose were chilled with the thin eventide air, however the rest of me was dangerously warm. I dared to open my eyes. A fur blanket was draped across me. I breathed in its scent. Sweet rolls and smooth ink. Pushing past the urge to fall back into another deep sleep, I sat up and scanned my surroundings. A satchel, a blanket, a fire, and Cicero. My face somehow lost all color and settled into a deep blush at the same time. He looked sad. Tired. Like he had been up all night. Perhaps he had...

"Cicero?" He didn't glace up. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to the journal he was lazily scribbling away in.

"Ah, Listener," a look of pain shot across his face as if he had been stabbed. "You are awake."

"Were you following me?"

"When will you learn, Innocence? Wherever you go, I'll follow," he paused. "So is my duty as Keeper, no matter how much you despise that." Cicero had already dropped his third person act. He felt so much more vulnerable like this. I felt as if I could almost see more of him. More of his light brown eyes, more of his oddly familiar muscles underneath his jester motley, more deep red oozing from his side.

"Sithis, Cicero! What in the void happened to you?" I rushed to examine his wound, but I sat up much too fast, sending stars flying across my vision. I swayed helplessly before Cicero took hold on my shoulders with ginger force.

"You're exhausted, Innocence. Here," he handed me a small vile, "drink this." I was about to refuse, but the dryness of my tongue and the growling in my stomach pushed past my doubt. I took the vile gratefully and chugged it down. The warm concoction tasted of purple mountain flower and netch jelly, with a salty hint of canis root. An energetic calm flowed through me followed by a wave of content exhaustion. If this wasn't Skooma, I'd be surprised. Cicero took the bottle from me before it fell from my fingers.

"What happened?" I used my last breaths to ask.

"I left last night to gather supplies in case you didn't have the energy to make it home. I figured you'd forget." Which I had. "I followed you on the outskirts of Solitude to make sure that everything went well and stayed behind while you ran to make sure that none of the guards arrows hit you." He gave a sad laugh, then flinched at the pain. "I had to shield you a few times." I tried to say something. Thank him. Tell him that he shouldn't have done that. Tell him that his life meant just as much as mine. But I couldn't. All I could do was fish my warm fingers through his cold ones and squeeze. A smile twisted gently at the corners of his lips. He had accepted my apology.