Hi guys! Its been forever and a half...I know...don't shoot me . I was replaying Skyrim...again...:) And this time as a Breton named Audrey, and I didn't kill Cicero because unlike last time, I read his journals. That poor man :( I love him so much. So, here: my cicero love transferred into a story! Enjoy ;)


...and do I really need to tell you I don't own Skyrim? Good.

The Cure for Madness

Cicero had heard of there being another member of the Skyrim Dark Brotherhood. A Breton, supposedly. A woman too. He'd never really spoken to a Breton before, so he was certain meeting this individual would prove exciting. He vaguely hoped she was not at all like a certain Nord woman he'd had the…pleasure of living with. Astrid was a strong fighter and good leader from his assessment, but untrusting and very…sneaky.

But, the Night Mother required sanctuary…and Astrid was leader. So he'd have to deal with her, as much as he disliked the thought. As much as he'd enjoy…dealing with her in another more…bloody manner, he'd restrain himself. For Mother.

Always for Mother.

Cicero was tugged away from his inner musings by a sensation he'd come to know all too well: he was being watched. Turning, swiftly, he braced himself for another confrontation, perhaps with Astrid, or her dog husband, but was met instead by curious blue eyes. A woman, quite a bit shorter than himself and wearing…revealing fur armor stood by his side, eyes roaming his figure and the large crate behind him.

"Be good, Cicero," he warned himself. "You gave up your old personality to protect Mother, remember? You are a fool. Funny, cruel, detached from all but Mother. Lust for blood, Cicero…blood only."

But, oh, it was difficult indeed. This woman was a pale skinned, large breasted, faintly muscled, dark haired, blue eyed delicacy. As a man, he could not deny his instant and very interesting craving for her. But, as a fool, as Cicero, he merely cackled and shouted out a greeting.

"Why helloooo. You must be the newest member to our little family."

The previously seeking cerulean depths brightened at being engaged by the object of her scrutiny, and a dazzling smile lit her face. A smile like that…well, Cicero had not seen one in years.

"It's very nice to meet you…Cicero, was it? I'm glad to finally be introduced to you and the Night Mother."

He liked this woman, he decided then and there. He liked her a lot. And told her so, stressing that the Night Mother would enjoy her presence as well. This woman, Anemone, flashed that pretty smile of hers. She was happy to have his approval. Happy to have the Night Mother's. Curious of his past, duties as Keeper…even asked how his trip was.

Such a pure little flower, killing things…killing people was beyond him. Sure, the unchild seemed sweet enough…as her ploy required. But her, Anemone, she legitimately wished to know things about him. Yes, yes…he liked her…and so would the Night Mother!

He would later find out just how correct he was.


The next day he found himself looking for her. Talking with her had been enjoyable to say the least, and he was glad to have someone not glaring him down in the sanctuary. Yet, he was unable to find her, which deflated his mood more than he'd like to ever admit.

"Festus, dear mage, where is the new member? Anemone? Hmm? Hmmmmm?"

The old man seemed relatively surprised at the question, and Gabriella who sat a few feet away seemed to share this astonishment.

"She usually never stays too longer, Cicero," Babette, the vampire child, replied for them. "Anemone has other pending responsibilities she has yet to explain to any of us, so we only really see her when she's completed Nazir or Astrid's tasks."

"Oh," Cicero lamented.

The dark elf lounging at the table added in, "We know only that she must be a hunter, as she always dons lighter clothing and a bow. She may be a warrior too, judging by that hell of an ebony war axe on her hip. She's obviously a mage due to her lineage, and Arnbjorn claims she's also a werewolf, but I don't quite know how such a cheerful disposition translates into a beast."

Babette cleared her throat testily.

"Not to say you aren't pleasant as well, Babette!" the mer corrected quickly.

Cicero was endlessly impressed by this woman. A moon born killer locked within a beautiful and sweet, mannered girl trained in the arts of hunting, war and murder? Simply fascinating.

"If you're looking for Anemone," Nazir called from the sleeping area, "she should be returning by the end of the week, she said. Had to go to Markarth to receive a contract."

He thanked the man in his overly excited façade's usual way, and scurried off back to Night Mother to relay to her the good news. None of the others questioned why he wanted to see her. None wanted to.


A Listener. Since he'd been appointed Keeper it was all he searched for, all he wanted…all he dreamed of. Finding a Listener for Mother was his duty. Once determining that the mage, mer, Astrid, dog, vampire child, shadow scale and Nazir were not capable of being said entity, he feared there to be no one left to prove themselves worthy of the Unholy Matron's words. Not even poor, loyal Cicero.

But, no, the object of his attention, that soft spoken Breton girl who confused him so, had spoken the words! "Darkness rises when Silence dies," she had murmured, so intimately to him, as if it were a well kept secret as much as it was an explanation. That girl! That marvelous, beautiful girl! The Listener!

To say he was pleased with the findings was…more than an understatement. He'd done his job! He found a Listener! All was well and if his constant dancing and singing didn't hint at his unrestrained joy, he didn't know what would. He'd not seen her since, but even when undressing for bed that night, he hummed and pranced about his room.


Cicero turned, smile widening to light his face as Mother's sweet Listener stood at his door. His smile disappeared suddenly as the mind of the mad man underwent a slight change. The Jester—the one he'd killed, but had wormed his way into his head—ceased clouding him with blissful nonsense. The inner man, his old self, his real self studied her night clothes, hesitant appearance, and short brunette hair with a certain kind of intrigue only members of the opposite sex feel toward one another.

It was odd really. Cicero had adopted the Jester persona in order to leave his pre-Dark Brotherhood and pre-Keeper life behind him. He locked away his memories, feelings, and thoughts and descended into madness to properly obsess over his Mother. Yet, this girl, without very much effort on her part at all, drew that man to the surface, capturing him.

He simply didn't understand.

"Yes, Listener?" His reply went without his usual amount of squealing and cheerfulness. It sounded familiar, as if he not the insane jester he portrayed each day. It confused him more.

"I wished to talk with you a bit. About this…listener business. Do you mind?"

His grin returned, though his Jester remained subdued. "Of course. Come in, come in."

The girl smiled softly in thanks, slipping into his room and making herself comfortable on his bed. Cicero blinked in mild surprise. This girl really wasn't afraid or bothered by him. She was either too bold or too trusting, he decided. But, not a soul had trust him this way since he became…who he was now. The Night Mother he protected with his very life, but he had no idea if she trusted him in return. No, only the Listener showed poor Cicero this amount of kindness.

He would enjoy it thoroughly.

Cicero joined her, leaning against the wall behind his bed just as she did, waiting for her to speak her mind. A cynical smile met his lips…he was always waiting for people to speak.

"Do you hate me, Cicero?"

The question startled him, jarring him so entirely that he sat up, leaning toward her to try and discern whether or not he heard correctly. Hate her? Her? The Listener?

"No no no! I do not hate you, sweet Listener! I told you I liked you before, did I not? You remember talking with Cicero before don't you? Hmmmmm?"

Her broken smile churned a pot of feelings within him he dared not try and think on. "Yes, I do recall you saying that. But things may change. I have changed often enough…my role, my thoughts. And you…well, you were so mad before…"

Was that…guilt in his chest? "Oh, my dear sweet Listener, Cicero is sorry. Cicero did not know you were the Listener. Cicero thought you were merely defiling Mother. Cicero is not mad anymore."

Her eyes were brighter as she gazed up at him. More feelings fluttered in his stomach as she gave him a thankful smile. What was going on inside of him?

Once more, her smile faded though and her eyes averted to the wall again.

"You still have all the reason in the world to be cross with me, Cicero. I am well aware that humans feel things, regardless of their…practicality. You're no exception."

"Ha ha! What do you mean, Listener, dear? You are Listener and you can hear Mother and all is well! What should Cicero be angry about?"

"But…Cicero…didn't you want to be Listener?"

The fluttering emotions within him ceased. The man's presence in his head ceased. The Jester stopped humming in his mind. All stopped and the posed inquiry echoed over and over and over in his brain. No. No. No no no. No.


How…how had she…? She couldn't know him! She was a stranger! A mere girl! How could she know the darker parts of Cicero? The familiar hysteria clouded his thoughts. The sounds of the Jester laughing started releasing red that pooled in his vision. His hand sought his side, where his dagger lay. Kill. Kill. Kill her. He'd kill her. Take his nice knifey and force it through the pretty, pale skin of her neck. Slice and dice and kill her. And then all would be well again. He and Mother could find a new Listener. Yes. New. Better. Not so nosy!

The laughing was overwhelming. His amber eyes widened and his lips twitched, grasping the knife tightly. Mother wouldn't be too angry. Mother wouldn't mind. Mother loved Cicero!

A hand on his dispersed the haze, bringing him back to the room where he found himself stiff, in a cold sweat…trembling and breathing too hard. Amber eyes met knowing sapphire ones, smiling into his own almost.

"You don't have to answer. I was just curious."

Cicero swallowed hard, releasing the dagger and leaning forward, head in his hands. "Yes. Curious. Of course. Heh…"

"It's okay…you know."

He didn't realize she'd moved until she was kneeling before him, his head pressed against her soft chest, and her arms wrapped tightly around him. Cicero felt her head rest on his, lips close to his ear so that she could continue to whisper to him softly, intimately…more all consuming than either Jester or Man.

"You may not be her Listener…you may not hear her, but...well…you're her Keeper. And that's just as good. She appreciates it. She told me so. And between you and me, you're her favorite…her precious Cicero."

His breath hitched, caught in his throat. Tear burned at his eyes, but he managed to hold them back, not wanting to expel anymore emotions today. Too stressful. And he was so tired. But, her words brought a lightness to his heart that hadn't ever been there. This girl, the Listener…she was mending wounds that no one could. Not even Mother. His arms released his head, curling around her to clutch at her desperately. Like his lifeline.

"So don't worry about it. You keep tending to her, and I'll do my best to be as good a Listener as I can be. Okay?"

He could only nod.

Her grip on him relaxed, and reluctantly, he released her as well, allowing her to stand and smile beautifully at him.

"I think I'll take my leave then. Goodnight, Cicero."


And when he did sleep, after staring at the door, missing her for an hour, it was the sleep of the dead. The very emotionally confused, but content dead.


The sounds of ghosts wailing in defeat and traps being sprung as she made her way toward him both scared and amused him. Cicero knew that by attempting to kill Astrid, he was putting himself at risk. She would surely send someone after him. He'd had to leave the Night Mother behind, fleeing with that infernal werepuppy on his tail. After such a long travel and such troubling injuries from that fight, he really had hoped he'd managed to kill at least the dog.

Blood continued to soak his clothes. Damned puppy had a bit more of a bite than he appeared to have. Cicero was weak, and very well could be dying, but now, he was at least…content.

Astrid had sent Anemone to kill him. What a thought. Cicero knew she'd send her least valued member after him, knowing that he could probably kill whoever it was even if injured. He really wished he were able to move because damn that woman, she'd sent the Listener! As if it wasn't clear enough already she spited the girl for becoming the liaison between Mother and the Brotherhood.

But, at the same time, he hoped she made it to him. If it were her killing him, he wouldn't put up much of a fight. In fact, he strongly considered not fighting at all. He liked the Listener. Cherished her company and her kind words. Mother needed her. Mother loved her. So risking killing her was out of the question.

He heard her footsteps in the hallway just before the door. He sighed, closing his eyes and curling in further on himself. Smiling to himself, as the door opened, he gazed at her form.

Beautiful as always. Mother's precious Listener had pulled on the armor of the Brotherhood just for the requests made by the contact Mother had led her to. The Man within Cicero greatly approved of this tight fitting armor, though in truth, he missed seeing her in her beloved fur and scaled clothing. The Jester admired the way her eyes, always so light, were almost black with rage. Such a pretty face, contorting in lividness he'd not seen from anyone other than himself, finally pieced together a picture of her murdering in his head, an image he'd not thought possible until now.

Eyes narrowing at his pitiful form spread out on the floor, she stalked toward him proudly, unscathed by the defenses he'd arranged for. He chuckled to himself. The sound reminded him of wheezing men who worked in mines all day. She would kill him. There was no doubt judging by the look on her face. And he…he was ok with that.

"Cicero does not care…do what you will, Listener. Cicero will accept his fate."

She knelt beside him, staring at him for a moment before pushing him on his back, yanking his hands away from the wound on his side. Cicero was confused. Now, he truly did not know her purpose in coming here.

"Arnbjorn didn't lie when he said he got you good," her voice was hallow, tired. She looked exhausted.

"The wound won't close naturally…you'll bleed out before the morning comes."

He coughed out a weak reply, "Then can Cicero request you speed the process along? If that is what you came for…"

She glared at him then, and with mild shock he realized there were tears in her eyes. Her bottom lip was jutted out, a habit of withholding emotion that children often used. It looked so innocently adorable, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Pledge yourself to me, Cicero."

His laughter ended, his eyes flying to her face, which was steely and serious. It was an honest demand.

She took his silence for confusion, continuing, "If you swear to follow me in all I request of you, I will heal you and let you live. Astrid won't have to know and I'll make sure the Night Mother is properly cared for in your absence."

"Why, Cicero wonders? Why would you…spare me?"

Her eyes softened, reverting back to that lovely shade he had grown so attached to. "Because…you and I, well…we're birds of a feather in a way."

Soft, sure hands lifted his torso, placing it gently atop her lap to cushion poor Cicero, running her fingers gently, lovingly through his hair. He was confused. Why? Why why why?

"My real name is Audrey." His eyes widened a bit. "When I was very young, a group of bandits killed my mother…took her away from me. I was alone and angry, so I sought them out. I spent ten years trying to kill them, and when I did, I sustained injuries that almost took my life. I was saved though…by the leader of the Grey Beards no less.

"He took my sorry, bloody self to the top of the Throat of the World. Taught me everything I know about the dragons…and their language. Apparently I was Dragonborn, so he prepared me for my duty. I felt a shift in me then. Sort of like…I was rediscovering a part of me that I'd thought had been dead before, when I went to get revenge for Mother.

"I succeeded in my duty, brought safety and honor to Skyrim. I was a hero. I had friends. I was happy. But then, those friends betrayed me. They killed the only father figure I'd ever had…and with it, my last bits of 'Audrey'. The feeling was…astonishing. As if I'd been slain and revived as a new person. I gave myself the name 'Anemone', meaning death in Dovah. I slew all that opposed me…including Ulfric Stormcloak himself."

Cicero pondered this tale…the life of his Listener. A change of identity. A life that one is unwilling and unable to revert back to. A new beginning…a bloody sunrise. Yes, he could indeed relate to this beautiful Breton girl. He wished he could not though.

"So you spare poor Cicero because he is like you?"

Her lovely smile returned and suddenly the blood leaking from him wasn't important. There was only Anemone…Audrey…his Listener. "Almost. I want you to live Cicero. You've been such a kind soul, a wonderful friend, and a dedicated Keeper. I admit…I read your journals. They reminded me of myself, yes, but also…well…"

Breaking off with a sigh, Anemone directed her gaze to his wounded side. A glowing energy filled her palm, which pressed down on the wound. It was an odd experience…Cicero could feel his skin closing around the wound, the blood clotting. Life flowed into him anew and he smiled gratefully but weakly up at the brunette.

"What was Audrey going to say?"

Glowing blue eyes peered into tired amber ones, contemplating. "Mother told me we are bonded…Keeper and Listener. But, I also feel that we, Cicero and Audrey, are bonded as well. The woman with no one left to lean on…who doesn't know whether Anemone is a name…or an identity. And the man who lost his sanity to his final victim in the sustained silence of his duty. We are kin, Cicero…and I'd be a fool to abandon someone so close to me when I know exactly how it is to be lonely…to be forgotten."

Her free hand stroked the sweat covered skin of his face, brushing his hair back, like a lover's touch. Cicero did not know much about human emotions anymore, but the feelings he felt for Mother and Audrey were similar, and that was all that mattered in deciding to stay with her just as he would the Unholy Matron…forever and always.

"Please say you'll stand by me, Cicero. You've become such a trusted friend in the time I've known you. Yes, you are mad, but I feel that there is only one cure to your madness."

Pained and weak, he croaked, "Which is?"


Eyes closed, Cicero smiled wistfully. So perceptive was his Listener. Yes, yes, his Listener was right…again.

"Very well, sweet Listener. I will follow you to the Void and back."

Her lips pressed down onto his, sending pleasant shocks throughout his body, as her magic finished patching the open flesh at his side. He felt…good. Warm and safe and comfortable. His lips lightly worked against hers, and while a fire built in his stomach, his fatigue extinguished it. His world started to slip away. Sleep claiming him slowly.

Before he truly lost his grip on the world, his precious Listener pulled away from him just enough to whisper against his slack lips, "Cicero, in return for your trust, I'm entrusting you with the information I've provided today. My name…my real name is the last thing I have of that life. Keep it safe for me."


The last Cicero had seen or heard from anyone, it had been Audrey, after she had spared his life. He woke up the next evening, having slept almost 18 hours by approximation, curled by the fire, with a blanket and a note being the only indication she'd ever been there at all. The note had been sweet but simple: she promised to return, eventually, to check on him and try to work something out, a way for him to get back to Mother, but not to Astrid. Until then, he was to stay in Dawnstar, or if he felt he should leave, he had to leave a note as to where to find him.

It had been two weeks since then. From the gossip he'd heard in town, the Emperor was in Solitude, being served dinner by the Gourmet. Knowing Astrid—predictable, stupid Astrid—whoever was to kill the man would pose as that chef and poison the meal. So simple…and boring. He kept waiting for a report on the outcome, since it had already been two days since that dinner, but information on it was low.

He hoped it went well so that precious, lovely Audrey could return to him. In truth, he'd missed her more than he would have, had the incident with Astrid never occurred. He felt closer to her, more important. And knowing her beautiful true name was such a giddy joy to him. He couldn't wait to greet her with it.

The blood on the Black door was his first indication that something was terribly wrong. It was fresh…very fresh. One of the members was injured…and had entered the sanctuary.

"Shit," Cicero swore to himself. He'd have to kill this member before they could relay to Astrid that he was still alive. A smirk then curled its way onto his face. Perhaps that murder plans didn't go so well. Had the stupid cow miscalculated? Sent a precious 'family' member to kill someone too heavily guarded for them?

His mind kept inventing images of the idiot dog, or the reptile or even the old man lying, bleeding on the common room floor. He'd get to slab his knife into them, enjoy the screams…oh how he'd missed the screams as Keeper. Heh. This was going to be fun.

Slinking his way down the stairs, he braced himself against the pillar near the stairwell down into the commons. Best see who his victim was before indulging.

His dagger slipped from his hand, clanging loudly as it tumbled down the stone steps. Cold sweat trickled down his brow and his chest heaved with each difficult breath. He'd seen close ones die before. Too many times as well. But, never had he been so affected, so instantaneously defeated by a bloodied, broken form before.

His Listener. His precious Audrey was collapsed at the bottom of the staircase, white cook's uniform stained almost completely red. More frightening, she was still. Unmoving. Quiet save the panting breaths he could barely hear.


His legs shook as he descended the steps slowly. Please be alive, sweet Audrey. Please please.

To his immediate relief, the woman raised herself up on her raw elbows to gaze up at him, pretty blue eyes pained but alive. He raced down to attend to her, yanking her from the floor and into his arms before darting down the hall to the bedrooms. There was no way in the Void he'd lose her while she was under his care. No. Way.

"Cic…ero," she croaked, sounding better than he had when the situation was flipped. A good sign indeed.

"Shh, sweet, precious Audrey. Cicero will make it all better. Lots of potions I've bought and kept around to use on you. Pain will be gone soon, so shhh."

Her body was still warm, despite how she shivered. Cicero couldn't tell if she was whiter than usual, as her flesh had always been paler than some corpses. But her lips, no longer painted black as they usually were, were nice and pink, so she wasn't immediately dying.

"It's not…that bad, Cicero. Most of the blood isn't mine. Wounds are…ugh…small cuts mostly. Lots of them though. Damn that infernal bitch to the Void."

"Who, Listener?"

The fire in her cerulean eyes seemed to feed an angry hiss into the name as she replied, "Astrid."

The joker's maniacal laughing clouded his head once more, his hand searching for his dagger frantically, forgetting its place lying by the stairs. "I'll kill her this time. How dare that traitorous pretender injure my darling Listener!"

A hand cupped his cheek, soothing the trembling rage a bit, enough to speak normally to her. Her eyes had calmed considerably, worried by his outburst, though the unmistakable hatred was still ever present.

"No, Cicero. Not yet. Maro…that snake, he made a deal with her. My life in exchange for a pledge to never touch the Brotherhood. Heh. As if he would make such a promise. After she told that creep how to find me after I ended up killing that fake Emperor, he sent troops to the sanctuary to finish her. I…don't want the family to die. I do like them, but…"

The fire in her eyes was back. "If this is to be the punishment of Astrid, so be it."


The same hand at his cheek began stroking his hair. "It's alright. I had Nazir and Babette load the Night Mother into a cart and begin taking her here before I left for Solitude. They said they'd take it slow, so I'm not surprised they aren't here yet."

Cicero sighed, relieved that neither the two beings he valued most, nor the two family members Audrey favored had been put in harm's way.


Later, after her wounds had been dressed and she had gotten a few hours of sleep, Audrey settled herself in front of the fireplace in the torture room, humming to herself. Cicero was glad her injuries were not grave, but he sensed something else was bugging her. He did not need to ask what it was. He, like her, had been betrayed often enough. Each time a new connection is made, it seems like a new beginning, safe from the icy clutches of treachery.

When that feeling is proved wrong, the pain is doubled by disgust with yourself, for letting that traitor close enough to you.

Plopping down next to Audrey, Cicero wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled her face with his, smiling widely. Anemone could not help but giggle. Such a silly man he was.

"Yes, dearest Cicero?"

"How does Audrey know Cicero wants something?"

Another giggle, "You're like a child, that's how. I know how children butter parents up before asking something of them. Now, out with it, Cicero."

"Perhaps Cicero just wishes to cuddle his Listener. Is that not allowed?"

They exchanged grins. "Oh? Just cuddling? How disappointing."

Smirking seductively, Cicero purred in her ear, "Does Audrey desire Cicero's attention in…other manners?"

Audrey turned, looking very serious and replied, "Do you?"

He may have been named The Fool of Hearts, but Cicero was no fool to his heart's own desires. Since meeting the Breton he had felt comfortable and quite happy near her. Of course, very recently the feeling of comfort morphed into dire devotion and lustful craving. Though, if he was honest with himself, he could say he loved this woman.

And why shouldn't he? She'd not once betrayed him, spared his life and even honored Mother. Yes, if there was anyone Cicero thought he could love entirely, as a man not a Keeper, it was Audrey.

His answering smile seemed to be enough.

Cicero, pre Keeper, had not spent many nights alone. He'd slept with plenty of women, all being beautiful in their own ways. None of them could compare to Audrey. His Keeper reverence of her did not deter him from worshipping her body with his hands, lips and tongue, but rather heightened the experience. Every kiss places sloppily against her collarbone lit a fire in his soul. Every sweet moan or gasp clouded his head in a haze so deep he could not think straight. Every caress of her fingertips across his flesh brought goose bumps to the surface and sent a small shiver through him.

When she had tried to turn the tables by flipping him on his back, he had forced her back down and murmured, "Let Cicero make love to you, Audrey," while licking the shell of her ear.

He single mindedly pleased his Listener, licking, biting and fingering her to ecstasy before he even thought of entering. When she did finally manage to draw his hips to her, wrap her toned legs around him and pull him closer, until his hot, hard member was seated to the hilt in the very core of her, Cicero felt his body trembling with the powerful emotions held in those sky blue eyes. The Joker could not be found. There was no rush, no hysteria, no laughter filling his mind. Only her.

And after their age old dance had reached its peak, Audrey crying out and clutching him like her lifeline and Cicero burying himself as deep as possible, screaming with the satisfaction of filling her to the brim with his seed, the jester remained silent. He felt like Cicero, the man. No maddening silence. No sick twisted laughter. No duty to Mother. Just her.

His precious Listener.


Neither Babette nor Nazir were very surprised to see Cicero standing behind Anemone as she went out to help with moving the Night Mother. They had expected as much, actually. He exchanged a silly grin with the Listener as they lifted the coffin off of the cart. The Redguard explained that he had heard Commander Maro had destroyed the southern sanctuary, burning it and its inhabitants to ash. Astrid had attempted to run, but had been caught near Morthal, beheaded publically in Solitude.

Anemone was content with that outcome. She wept for her fallen comrades, lost unnecessarily to Astrid's foolish power craze, but it seemed a fitting end. The Night Mother urged them to continue their contract to kill the Emperor, promising that soon, the Dark Brotherhood would work on rebuilding their numbers and living space. Cicero could tell it would be very busy in the next few years, which he didn't mind all that much.

Interestingly enough, the Unholy Matron had demanded Cicero repay Audrey's generosity at sparing his life by giving it to her, decreasing the severity of his Keeper duties. She provided no other elaboration, but Cicero and Audrey easily filled in the blanks. Once a week, Cicero would return to oil, clean and tend to Mother, but the rest of his time was spent roaming the world with Audrey. He would never complain about such a fortunate command.


He was brought out of his thoughts by his "wife", though not entirely official by Skyrim laws but close enough for them. She smiled her pretty smile at him, before taking his hand and asking, "Shall we?"

He would know no other response.

"Let's kill someone."

Review if you liked it! :3 Or didn't. Honestly I just want feedback.