Skyrim One-Shots

Cicero x Reader ~The Pretty Bird, Madcat, and Housecarl~

The moon shone on your sweat-covered form, people quietly making their way to the Bannered Mare as daily Whiterun festivities started. Autumn chills swept up your uncovered arms, igniting goosebumps along your skin.

You'd just gone out for a run- nights always seemed to calm you more compared to mornings.

Being Dragonborn was stressful, even when there was nothing to do. There was always something biting at your throat, an urge in the back of your mind. It unsettled you, though as you quickly found out, you had no other choice than to pretend it was never there.

Sadly, it always was.

"C'mon, Battle-Born! You too scared?" a girl's voice taunted from behind a nearby house, and a scowl grew on your face.

"Stop it! I-"

You jogged off the main path, giving an unimpressed glare to the two children when they came in sight as you picked up a torch from an upright holder mounted to the ground. The girl huffed.

"What?" she barked, "You think you're big stuff?"

"I'll crack your head in two before you can scream. Scat, Braith. Lars, stand up for yourself for once," you mutter, and the two hastily ran off, the girl hissing under her breath and the boy frowning.

You were about to leave yourself, but as you started to turn around, a figure sitting against the house caught your eye. Drawing a brow inwards, you crouched down and held out your torch, glaring before a gasp left your mouth.

A man, severely malnourished and dressed in red rags with a scarcely heaving chest met your gaze, dark amber orbs eerily desolate. Blood was slathered onto the house wall behind him, only recently dried. His red hair hung limply, matted and missing large chunks.

Despite his near-death state, he seemed to fully aware of his surroundings, a small grin coming onto his sickly pale face. His voice was a mere whisper as he spoke, choked and grated. 

"A pretty bird has come to finish Cicero off. Cicero is glad, Astrid would rather him bleed out," he rasped. "The mother morns."

You had your mind set in moments, be him mad or not.

"I'm going to pick you up, understand?" you murmur sternly, quickly placing the torch on the dirt.

"Cicero does not-"

You growl, "Look, honey buns, you can bleed out, or you can get a sweetroll. Pick."

"Sweetrolls? Sweetrolls! Yes, Cicero likes sweerolls!" his eyes widened excitedly, and you shook your head.

"Great," you grumbled, flicking two glowing fingers in his face as he promptly passed out, leaving you to heave him onto your shoulders and bring him to Breezehome.

'''''''

Lydia bit her lip nervously. "____, my Thane," she started," I'm all for helping out those in need, but..."

Your eyes trailed from the man muttering gibberish in his magic-induced slumber to your housecarl, grimacing as you held your forehead in your hand. 

"Why didn't you sleep in my bed at the least? A floor is hardly a place for a legend of yourself to sleep, ____! Your back is already worse after the war- I can't imagine how it feels when you don't get enough sleep and refuse to-"

"Lydia."

"-get a healer to look at it! Not only that, you shouldn't be using your shoulder after it's been dislocated so many times! You didn't even take a potion, my Thane! Aela stopped by yesterday, asking why you didn't show up to hunt with her! You haven't been getting near as much sleep as you should be-"