The Road Not Taken - part 1

Finding Cicero

A/N: This is an AU of the Cicero Dragonborn AU, with spoilers for All Skyrim's Foes. Which started out as a plot bunny, except it was Cicero centred so it turned into a rabid bunny with big pointy teeth. So I wrote a summary on my journal and then Heiwako talked me into writing it properly. It's more of an ongoing open-ended project than a strict story so won't get updated terribly often, but it's here. Basically it's what happened if Kodlak had been a bit more persistent in finding Stelmaria, and starts when Cicero is a tiny wee four year old in the Imperial City who is already a little obsessed with sneaking, stabbing and the big dragon statue in Talos Plaza...

1st Frostfall, 165 4E, Tiber Septim Plaza, Imperial City, Cyrodiil

Go to Cyrodiil, Askar had said.  Honour demands you at least try and find out what happened to her, Askar had said.  The Imperials keep records of everything, and the Legion's even more pedantic, Askar had said.  Try the big Imperial Registrar's Office in the Imperial City, Askar had said.

Well, Kodlak had tried that, and drawn a blank.  After six weeks of kicking his heels, and a fee that had nearly taken his entire coin purse (he'd retreated to Chorrol during the wait and taken on a bit of mercenary work there with the Fighters' Guild to rebuild it), he'd returned to the registry office to find no death certificate on file, no marriage certificate either, and from the Legion's records, only details that she'd been honourably discharged about two months after vanishing with a lump sum Legion pay-off.  The documents had placed that happening in Hammerfell.  She'd returned mere days after he'd left for Skyrim.  Kodlak could have kicked himself.

Nothing else, not unless he wanted to hand over more coin and check the business register and tax records, but the fees for the latter were astronomical and both records only covered Cyrodiil itself. If she was elsewhere in Tamriel, he'd never find her.  Stelmaria Di Rosso seemed lost to him.  He was about ready to give up.  Only the knowledge that at least she was out there somewhere consoled him.  She wasn't dead.  

Pondering his next move, Kodlak was sitting underneath the giant dragon statue in Tiber Septim Plaza, oblivious to someone watching him closely.  A small figure creeping up behind him, silent as the Void and ready to strike.

“STAB!”  The point of a blade clattered into the back of his armour, and Kodlak's training kicked in.  He didn't seem to be in pain so he reached with his left hand to grab his assailant and reached for his sword with the right.

“Nooo!” his attacker wailed, kicking and screaming as Kodlak hauled him into view.  “I stabbed you!  You're meant to be dead!  You're not allowed to fight back, that's not fair!”

His would-be assassin turned out to be a tiny boy in the usual boy's tunic and sandals worn by Imperial children, clutching a little wooden dagger in his hand and glaring furiously at Kodlak.  He had the dark eyes of an Imperial, but his pale skin and bright red hair reminded Kodlak more of Nord children – except a Nord child this small would never have been out of the cradle.  This boy looked horribly small and delicate and certainly should not be roaming the streets on his own with no parents or sibling to watch him.  Still, he seemed well-fed and healthy enough and from the way the boy was scowling at him, no one had beaten the spirit out of him.  Clearly he had loving parents somewhere.

“I'm afraid your knife's not sharp enough to get through my armour, lad,” said Kodlak, trying not laugh at the petulant glare on the boy's face.  “You would have been better off going for my throat – of course, you only had one chance before I caught you and then you would have been dead yourself.  Did no one ever tell you not to pick fights with heavily armed warriors who are bigger than you?”

The boy giggled a little, biting his thumb.  “But I wasn't picking a fight,” he protested.  “I was stabbing you!  Different!”

“Yes, different,” Kodlak sighed.  “But less honourable.  True warriors hone their skills until they're good enough to fight without having to resort to sneaking and trickery.  Lad, you've clearly got some fight in you.  Train hard, learn your skills and when you're a grown man, you could probably fight almost anyone.  You're certainly brave enough.  Why, if you were a bit older, I'd take you back to Skyrim with me to join the Companions and learn how to be a true warrior.”

The boy's eyes went wide as his mouth dropped open.

“Really??” he squealed.  Kodlak had to smile at that.  He put the boy down, and the lad curled up on the step next to him, suddenly good as gold and well-behaved.

“Yes, really,” said Kodlak.  The boy was certainly fearless, he'd give him that.  Given time and a bit of training, and he'd do rather well.  He had heart certainly.  He'd need guidance though.  Kodlak had a feeling he'd been perhaps a little over-indulged, or possibly left to his own devices a bit too often.  Either way, there was a potential for darkness in the boy.  He'd need careful handling to make sure he didn't end up as some bloody-handed monster, that was for sure.  Still, he had a lot of potential.  Of course, he could hardly take a small child back to Jorrvaskr with him, especially not one who clearly had parents waiting for him.  “You just need to get a little older and bigger first.  As it is, everyone at Jorrvaskr is rather bigger than you.  You couldn't really fight with them, it wouldn't be fair.”

“Everyone is bigger than poor Cicero,” the boy said sadly.  “I never win any fights.  That's why I'm trying to learn to sneak and stab.  Garnag said I should use my brain, not my fists, so I thought I'd win fights more often if they never knew I was there until I hit them.  Of course then they'd get up and hit me back.  So I'm learning to run and climb as well so they can't catch me.”

Kodlak felt his heart go out to the poor lad.  Where was his father, did he have no older brothers to look after him?  Children could be cruel, he knew that.  But Cicero was never going to win a fair fight given his size, and Kodlak hated to see the boy resort to sneaking around so young.  There wasn't a lot he could do, but maybe taking the boy home and having a word with his parents might help.  Cicero wasn't being abused, but the boy's parents were clearly neglecting him.

“Cicero, is that your name?” he asked gently.  “And who is Garnag?  Is he your brother?”

Cicero giggled.  “No, silly, Garnag's an Orc!  He helps Mama look after the shop, and makes weapons and armour to sell.  He's very good at it.  Always kind to me.  Well, sometimes he cuffs me round the ear when Mama's not looking, but that's usually when I'm in the way or interfering with the forge.  I'm not really allowed near the forge, but the coals are so pretty!”

“Ah, your mother's a blacksmith,” Kodlak nodded, understanding now.  With a shop to run, Cicero's mother was probably kept busy enough.  Cicero hadn't mentioned a father, not unless Garnag was his mother's lover, but surely he couldn't be Cicero's blood father.  “Does anyone else live with you, any brothers and sisters?  What about your papa?”

Cicero shook his head, his face falling again.  “No, I don't have any of those.  I never had a papa.  That's why the other boys are mean to me.  They say my papa ran away because of me or that it's because my mama's... I don't like it when people are mean about Mama!”  He was scowling again, but this time there was genuine hurt behind the anger.  The boy clearly loved his mother dearly and no wonder if she was all the kin he had.  Both of them alone in the world, and Cicero wanting to protect her but not knowing how.  She probably felt the same about him.  Kodlak wished there was more he could do to help.  As it was, he could at least make sure the lad got home safely.

“Not many people do,” said Kodlak gently.  “That's very honourable of you, Cicero, very honourable indeed to want to take care of your mama like that.  Tell me, does she know where you  are?”

Sly grin and the hint of a blush.  “Nooo,” Cicero giggled.  “I snucked out while she was busy!  I wanted to see the dragon!  I never normally get to see the dragon.  Only now and then.  So I waited until she was busy and came here without being seen!”

“I see, and how long ago was that?”

Cicero looked a bit confused by the question and Kodlak realised he probably hadn't mastered telling the time yet.

“Never mind.  Cicero, would you mind telling me how old you are?”

“Four anna half!” Cicero announced proudly.  “I'm gonna be FIVE in Sun's Dawn!”

Talos help him, not even five yet and already running loose about the city with his poor mother having no idea where he was.  Definitely time to get this one back home.

“Well, Cicero, as it happens, I'm in need of my armour repairing and my sword sharpening and if your mother's a blacksmith, that sounds like exactly the thing I need.  So why don't you show me where you live, and in return I'll tell you stories of the Companions of Jorrvaskr?”

“What's Yovviska?” Cicero asked, confused by the unfamiliar Nord word.  “And who are his Companions?”

“Jorrvaskr's not a person, it's a place.  Used to be a ship until the Companions turned it into a mead hall.  They'd got where they were going, they didn't need the boat any more, but men and women will always need a place to rest their heads, eat and drink with their fellows and tell stories of their triumphs.  So that's what we do.  We go out and earn honour and glory with our strength of arms, and we come home and tell the story.  Would you like to hear some of them?”

Now that had got Cicero's full attention.  “Stories!” he squealed, bouncing up and down and holding his arms out to Kodlak to be carried.  “Tell me stories of Yovviska!”

Kodlak laughed and scooped the boy up.  Cicero wrapped his arms around his neck

“Very well.  Point me towards your house, and I shall tell you tales of the Companions.  My name is Kodlak Whitemane, and I joined them about five years ago, and one of the first jobs I did for them involved going into this deep dark cave to find this heirloom axe someone had lost...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~  

“...and so I cut off the bandit chief's head and sent it flying all the way across the mine, straight into the wall where it cracked open like an egg.”

“Ewwww!” Cicero giggled.  “Brains everywhere!”

“Yes, quite, which is why when you're in battle, you should always wear a helmet and proper armour.  Much harder to decapitate you that way.”

“What's decapititititateit mean?” asked Cicero, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

“Means to cut someone's head off,” Kodlak explained.  They had public executions regularly in this city, Cicero would know about beheadings, surely?

“Oooh.  They do that here every Sundas!  Lots of blood!  Except Mama won't let me go.  She says it's barbaric.  I don't know what barbaric means, is it to do with beards?”

“It means she doesn't approve,” said Kodlak, deciding a lecture on differing cultural values was probably going to go right over the boy's head.  “Now, this is the Market District, which shop is your Mama's?”

Cicero pointed straight ahead.  “It's called Caught Red-Handed.  Because of our hair!  And our name!  It's Di Rosso, that means red.”

Kodlak felt the noise and bustle of the Market District fade away as a cold wind swept through him.  Di Rosso, Di Rosso, he was a Di Rosso like his mother.  His unmarried, red-haired mother.  Four and a half, and Kodlak had last seen Stelmaria five years ago before she just disappeared one night.  

Surely not.  He couldn't be.  But Cicero was staring at him, frowning, a little crease between the eyes and his head tilted just like Kodlak did when he was thinking hard.

“Kodla'?” Cicero asked, confused.  “Is that way, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” Kodlak said, his voice faint.  “Where did you say you lived?”

In the distance, a woman's voice could be heard, frantic and near tears as she pleaded with uncaring passers-by.

“Cicero!  CICERO!  Please, have you seen my son, he's about this high, red hair, fast, loves hiding, did any of you see him?  Please, he's four, anything could have happened, please!”

“MAMA!” Cicero cried, letting go of Kodlak and waving, before trying to squirm out of Kodlak's arms.

“No, stay where you are, you'll get lost underfoot in these crowds,” said Kodlak firmly, tightening his grip.  He pushed through, easily elbowing his way through the throng.  He'd been intimidated by all the people when he first came in, asking politely to pass and everyone ignoring him.  He'd since learnt that second only to the feet, the elbows were the next most important thing for navigating the Imperial City.

“MAMA MAMA!” Cicero cried, staring in the direction of her voice.  He certainly had a healthy pair of lungs on him.  Rather like his mother then.

“CICERO!” the woman cried, shoving her way through without a second thought.  Long red hair, dark eyes, all of five foot three but possessed of a voice that could send grown men running home in tears, once rarely seen out of Legion uniform, but now wearing a simple black dress and a blacksmith's apron, soot on her cheek from the forge.  Stelmaria Di Rosso, his lost lover, alive, well, and a mother, it seemed.

“Mama Mama!” Cicero squealed, reaching out to her.  Stelmaria didn't even spare Kodlak a look as he held the boy out to her.  She scooped Cicero into her arms, clinging on to him with her eyes closed as she held on tight to her beloved boy.

“Mama,” Cicero sighed happily.  “Love you, Mama.”  He was snuggling her right back, same happy smile on his face.

“I love you too, but don't you ever run away like that again!” she scolded, glaring at him.  “No, don't look at me like that, you've been very naughty!  Anything could have happened!  You're just lucky this nice man found you and brought you home.  Thank you so much for finding him, let me give you some septims for your trouble...”  The harried blacksmith was feeling around in her apron pocket for some coin to give him.  She'd still not looked at him properly.  

“Stelmaria,” he said, restraining himself from pulling her and Cicero into his arms.  “Stelmaria, it's me.”

Stelmaria went very still.  Slowly she raised his eyes to his, the colour draining from her cheeks.

“By the Nine,” she whispered.  “It can't be...”  She reflexively tightened her grip on Cicero, breaking his heart a little.  He'd never harm a child, much less hers, didn't she know that?

“Mama?” Cicero asked, confused.  “Mama, it's all right, this is Kodla'.  He's a nice man.  He's been telling me stories!”

“I bet he has,” Stelmaria breathed.  “Kodlak, I can explain, honestly I can, I swear it...”

“You don't need to tell me anything,” said Kodlak, so pleased to see her he didn't even care where she'd been all this time, why she'd disappeared.  Well, part of that was now obvious.  She must have been pregnant when she left.  Must have been scared of what he'd think, or afraid he'd reject her.  Talos, never, didn't she know that??  “You're alive.  That's all that matters.  And you have your boy back.”

“Yes,” she said, looking strained.  “Yes, I do, thank you.  He's my life, if anything happened to him... oh look, we can't talk here.  Come with me, let's get Cicero settled back at the shop.  We – we can talk there.  My assistant, Garnag, he can deal with any customers.  He's an Orc, but don't let that put you off, he's a good man underneath.  I needed an extra pair of hands, and it's amazing how less pushy my male customers got when they saw him at work.  Anyway, I'm rambling, it's this way...”  She turned and led the way, pushing through the crowds.  Kodlak was just grateful he was taller than most Imperials and that her red hair was distinctive enough to stand out.  Also Cicero kept watching over her shoulder, smiling and waving and not taking his eyes off him.  Cicero.  Likely his own son, and already a fearless little thing.  He'd make a fine warrior, Kodlak just knew.  He just needed someone to guide him and pay attention to him.  He didn't begrudge Stelmaria for being too busy – she had a roof to keep over their heads after all.  But she was clearly having trouble on her own, and Kodlak was rapidly deciding the Imperial City was no place to raise a child.  But how to convince his stubborn Stelmaria to come with him?

Well, that could perhaps wait until they'd got inside.  Stelmaria led him to the smithy, where a particularly fierce looking Orc was hammering a battleaxe into shape.  

“You found the little tearaway then,” he grunted, acknowledging Kodlak with a nod.  “Knew he couldn't have gone far.”

“Er, actually he made it all the way to Talos Plaza,” said Kodlak, not wanting to get Cicero into even more trouble, but feeling Stelmaria should know just what her son was capable of.

“What??” Stelmaria cried, horrified.  Garnag hastily stifled a laugh.

“Oh, you're in for it now, troublemaker,” he said, grinning at Cicero, who was pouting hopefully up at his mother.

“I wanted to see the dragon, Mama!”

“You've seen the dragon!” Stelmaria shouted.  “I must have taken you there every Sundas this summer!”

Cicero kept staring at her, lip starting to tremble as he began to sniffle.  Sure enough, seconds later he was wailing on her shoulder, sobbing his heart out.

“But... I... really like... dragons!” he wailed.

“You have a toy one,” said Stelmaria irritably, carrying him upstairs.  “That red and gold one I made for you.  You left him in your room!  Honestly Cicero, how could you?  He was very sad indeed when I had to tell him you'd run off and left him.”

Cicero shut off the tears, gasping in horror.  “BINKIE!” he cried, appalled.  “I left Binkie behind!  Mama, Mama, is Binkie all right?”

“He's fine, but you'll need to make it up to him,” said Stelmaria soothingly.  “Now I'm going to put you in your room, and you'll need to stay there and look after Binkie and make sure he's feeling loved again.  And if you stay there and are good and quiet, you can join Kodlak and me for dinner later.  You don't mind staying for dinner, do you, Kodlak?  Er, you don't have to be anywhere, do you?”

“No,” said Kodlak softly, looking at both their hopeful faces.  “No, there's nowhere else I need to be.  Nowhere at all.”