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Nazir tried to keep his voice calm, “you want me to
what?”
Astrid sighed, rolling her eyes, “didn’t you hear me the first time? The fool’s gone and shattered his leg; Sithis knows how he’s done it. Anyway, I can’t have him whining at me for the next three months, so this is your new assignment.”
“Can’t the Listener do it? Isn’t he
her
pet?”
“The
Initiate
is on a contract in Solitude, with Babette,” Astrid leant against the side of a table, “and don’t think you have the right to deny my orders.”
“Great. Will I at least get paid for this?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
***
Cicero. The Keeper. ‘The Fool of Hearts,’ as he introduced himself. There was not a single person on Nirn that Nazir found more insufferable. His desperation to cling to the old ways was infuriating - they’d all made sacrifices, every single one of them. And none of them wanted the Brotherhood to be in its current state, not even Astrid.
In an image bordering between pathetic and depressing, Cicero sat in the dining hall looking like a crumpled scrap of fabric. “Brother Nazir,” he said, wistfully, “you must have heard the woeful news! Cicero has broken his leg… how will he ever tend to Mother in such a state!”
“I’m sure the Night Mother will be fine,” Nazir said, shifting his weight between his feet while silence filled the room, “is there anything you need?”
“Anything Cicero needs?” he laughed, “no, not really. However, if you were to ask the question ‘is there anything Cicero wants…’”
“Fine. Is there anything you
want?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he purred.
“What is that meant to-” Nazir fumed, digging his nails into his palm, “if you don’t want my help, you won’t get it! But don’t blame me when you end up starving to death!”
Cicero’s eyes widened. It looked painfully forced and artificial. “Brother Nazir!” he gasped, bringing his hand up to half cover his mouth, “surely you don’t mean that! Afterall, are we not family? Are we not brothers bound by… the void?”
“Distant cousins, maybe,” Nazir spat, “but even that would insult me.”
“Gah!”
“...”
“...”
“Cicero is sorry, he shouldn’t have done that,” he said, flat and plain, “but the Night Mother must be tended to.”
“...and you can’t walk? Of course you can’t. Okay, I’ll
help
you.”
Nazir gave Cicero a hand up, which was uncomfortable enough in its own right - his grip was too tight, and his hands felt like a corpse had been pumped with warm blood, if that made any sense. Then, he supported him under the arm, and they began limping towards the Night Mother’s chamber. Nazir gritted his teeth - why did the fool have to get so
close?
This was an unnecessary level of closeness! He should
not
be able to feel Cicero’s heartbeat
and
breathing right now! Honestly, this would drive him as mad as…
…but there was another feeling, too. One even more disturbing. See, with every step they took, and with every breath or heartbeat that came from Cicero, he gained a level of mortality in Nazir’s mind. He was alive, so much more alive than the average person, so full of despair and madness and devotion that life oozed from every second of his existence.
Nazir realised, to his horror, that he felt
sorry
for Cicero, and his broken leg, and that if some unfortunate fate found Cicero, he would be distraught. Was this… affection? “No,” he muttered aloud.
“What was that, brother?”
“Nothing, I was talking to myself.”
“Talking to yourself, hm?” he chuckled, “seems like Cicero isn’t the only one who goes a little Crazy from time to time…”
“Shut- nevermind, keep talking,” Nazir said.
Cicero stopped limping forward, turned to him, and blinked, “pfwhat?”
“Keep talking. I want to hear you talk.”
“...surely Brother Nazir jests? He has made it perfectly clear that-”
Nazir looked Cicero up and down - he was only small, and that leg must be hurting him. It wouldn’t be fair to let him walk. So, he scooped him up in his arms.
There was something else he wanted to do, but he couldn’t put his finger on it…
“Nazir! That tickl-”
It was in a moment of completely irrational madness that Nazir made the choice to
kiss
the Night Mother’s Keeper.