“Cicero, is curious. What is the kindly stranger’s name, hmmm? He leaned up against the carriage giving her a soft look.

“It’s Cecilia, Lady Cecilia. No last name, sorry, not trying to be rude I just don’t have one. Orphaned, bastard, don’t know, don’t care.” She continued to pound the nail in through the slot.

“Such a pretty name for a pretty face.” He smiled and rubbed his chin. “Do not worry little one, Cicero does not judge, for his mother was a harlot, and he is a bastard.” His voice was low saying it with both regret and distaste in his voice.

Shock fell on her face and she twitched, losing grip on the hub of the wheel stumbling back into the mud. Cecilia looked up at him, how could a man be so devoted to a whore of a mother?

“Ohh... the little lady is covered in mud.” He whimpered, reaching out to grab her.

She took his hand and he picked her up off the ground with much ease. He was certainly a strong one, she thought, he didn’t look it though and you would have never have guessed it. He was so unassuming…

“Cicero is so very sorry! He did not mean to offend the little lady.” He feared that he had overstepped his bounds.

“No, you are fine. I guess I’m just baffled. Why are you so devoted to a mother who you seem to resent?” She asked with a look of embarrassment on her face.

“Ah! I see you are confused.” He giggled. “You see the mother in the coffin is not Cicero’s blood mother! But she is far more precious to him than anyone in the whole world. Cicero loves his mother, cares for her; he would die for her if need be!”

“Ah… I see. You’re adopted too…” She had a sad look in her eyes but gave him a warm smile. It was sweet how devoted he was to his dead mother.

She went back to hammering the nail until it was locked into position. This quick fix was no doubt bad for the carriage. It was going to need a real fix and he would be lucky to make it to his destination.

“Where are you going, if I may inquire?” She asked cautiously. It wasn’t really her business.

Cicero perked up at the question. It wasn’t really an odd thing to ask after all but he wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to divulge the information. Though where he was going resided in a hold, he could leave it vague. A half-truth.

He giggled. “Cicero is on his way to Falkreath. There is a large ancient burial yard there. Have you seen it?”

“No I haven’t” She stood up and placed the tools she had borrowed into their respective holsters. “I don’t know where that is. I’m new to Skyrim. Is it far?”

“Oh it is. On foot that is. It’s past the town of Helgen, southeast of there.” He sounded quite bored, his eyes glossed over. He would much rather tell the sweet girl jokes and hear her laugh than have small talk with her.

“Well, I think you should stop here for the night. That is in Whiterun. You’re going to need a more stable repair on your wheel; there is only so much I can do without my tools and supplies. I highly doubt it will make it.”

“Ahhh… I see.” His voice was soft sounding. “Only a temporary repair. No matter! Cicero appreciates your help nonetheless.” He gave her a mischievous smile.

“I should really be heading back. I only came out for a walk to pass the time.” She started to walk towards the farm.

Cicero realized something. He forgot to properly thank her! “Oh stranger!” He called out to her!

She turned to look at him, he was closing the gap between them.

“You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic!” He grabbed a hold of her, pulling her in and dancing with her, a hand on her waist and the other one laced with her own. Stepping around in a jig and leading her along, twirling her around in the rain. “But more! Even more! My mother thanks you!” He pressed himself into her close. They were cheek to cheek, as if he was about to change over to another set of dance steps.

She had a bewildered look on her face. She wasn’t used to people being so touchy with her, and when they tried it often set her off.

The cold rain was streaking their faces. Cicero could hear her breathing; it was shallow and nervous. Oh how he loved how warm she felt against him, no doubt she was freezing too. It was this moment in time that he felt very lonely. Poor old Cicero had been so lonely for so long. Twelve long hard years with only his mother to keep him company, thirteen without the warmth of the female persuasion... He mentally scolded himself for thinking this way and he pulled away quickly, acting as if nothing had transpired between them.

“Here, here. For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed! And thank you, thank you again.” He stuffed a heavy sack of coins in her unexpecting hands.

She shook her head, still blushing from embarrassment. “I can’t take this. You’re going to need it for proper repairs.”

“Nonsense! Cicero won’t have it!”

She really could use the coin for a room over at the Bannered Mare she thought, but it was so much. It had to have been a few hundred in coins she was holding in her hand.

“I need to take the tools back.” She broke from them, nodding in his direction.

He looked at her with interest and had wondered if she had taken them without asking. It had been on his mind the whole time. Loreius was a jerk, that much was known to him. If it was true, then he turned away a sweet and innocent looking girl, now that, that was cruel. He sneered at the thought, maybe he would pay him a visit when he least expected it.

It's not posted anywhere, maybe snippets on here or DA but not in it's entirety. Mostly because of some shit that happened back then in the fanfiction community, bullying and exclusion. I find it odd that you know a lot of these communities are made up of kids that have been bullied yet there are some of the worst bullies... 🙄 I'm slowly trying to get the courage to post and complete it. I finished it, but I want to continue it past it's nanowrimo ended point. I just mostly stuck to the in-game Dark Brotherhood Questline but I want to expand past it. It gave me a chance to explore with my oc thrown into another universe going down a good to evil pipeline bc she's been an anti-hero for like what...uh 21 years now... Give it take. And I wanted to explore the concept of if you live long enough you might live long enough to see yourself become the villain kind of thing. All trauma driven of course.

This particular OC has helped me through a lot through the years in my original work and outside of it. My OC has allowed me to deconstruct my abuse running the entire gamut, my cult upbringing, and help me let go of things or heal. It's helped me explore a topic I don't feel safe talking openly about and come to terms with an ex's death. It's essentially kept me sane.