Bound By Madness

22. Springs Warmth

Another two days went by before the Jester Assassin finally found his way in to see me, days spent stitching bright red flowers amidst dark green leaves as thorny vines wove down my arms. I'd set everything else aside to work on the pattern every waking moment. I don't think I had ever finished a pattern so quickly, the roses almost looking like splashes of blood across my arms. I was just thankful that over the years I had gotten nearly as good with my off-hand as I had with my main hand.

When the Jester Assassin walked in, a bowl of stew in his hands and a look of relief on his face, I was unsure of how to behave. What did he expect of me? How did he see me now? Had I become a burden to him? I wouldn't blame him if he saw me like that. I wasn't sure why I had failed to defend myself properly in that fight. I'd never gotten hurt like that before when fighting wolves. The thought that he might think me so weak because of this had me frowning.

I don't want to be seen as a burden. I know I can do better.

"Cicero does not think Faith is a burden. Perhaps she was distracted? Or maybe she just needs more practice with her new dagger, although Cicero wonders what happened to her last weapon since she did not have one before. Only Cicero had a blade when they danced that first night," he spoke as he sat down on the bed, the bowl of stew still in his hands.

I kinda lost it... when I was running... from a dragon. I swear, it really was a dragon! It was huge! I'd thought dragons were gone! That's what my father said, at least. But Skyrim seems to have them still, somehow! This place is crazy! How do you have dragons flying around killing people and not at least give a warning to people about it? Madness, I tell you! Madness!

As soon as I ended my little rant, I saw a spoon of broth with just a little bit of meat in it raised before me. I peered at the man who was facing me on the edge of the bed and wondered if he really thought me weak enough to need feeding. But as soon as I opened my mouth to say something about it, he slipped the spoon between my lips with a smile. He was doing this on purpose! He had to be!

Was it some kind of punishment for making him deviate from his journey? For wasting so much of his time while he waited for me to heal enough to leave with him again? If that was the case, why hadn't he just left without me? Or killed me outright if he worried I would tell someone about him?

Once I finished the first bite of food, he had another spoonful waiting for me, that same smile on his lips as he watched me sit there with my lips pressed together and a hand held out waiting for him to give me the bowl so I could feed myself.

"No, no, sweet Faith. Cicero was told you had suffered from blood loss and were weakened by it. Besides, Cicero doesn't mind helping Faith eat. This way he can make sure she eats all of her food. Including the carrots," the grin on his face became a little more forced looking as I shrank back a little.

But I don't like-

The spoon was between my lips again before I could finish what I was saying. Ugh, the texture of the carrots, softened from being cooked in the stew for who knows how long, had me almost gagging. If he had to give me carrots, they could at least be fresh and crisp, with a nice crunch to them. But cooked like this? They felt like mush as I chewed, although I barely even needed to do that much. All the taste had been leeched out of them into the broth, which had made the broth amazing but the carrots... less so.

These carrots are so gross!

The man frowned at me, his smile gone as he spoke. "And what is wrong with carrots? Hmm?"

Nothing! Unless they are cooked! There is no flavor left in them like this! And the feel of them squishing in my mouth, ugh!

"Oh, Cicero doubts it is as bad as you say. He thinks fussy Faith is just being picky and doesn't like carrots. Well, Cicero does and if Faith is going to be that spoiled about eating them, then Cicero will eat them instead," he grumbled at me before lifting a piece of carrot to his mouth.

I watched with wide eyes as he placed the spoon between his lips and pulled it back out, chewing for a second with a smile. The smile didn't last long.

"What have they done to it?! The carrot! They've killed it!" He wailed as he nearly dropped the bowl with his antics.

I told you so! Cooked carrots are gross! Fresh is the best way to have carrots!

"While Cicero will agree that the crunch of a fresh carrot is best, there are still ways to have them cooked that does not end up like... this blasphemous monstrosity. Cicero cannot make poor Faith eat a meal like this. If he wished to torture Faith, he would be much more upfront about it and not waste so many carrots to do so," he spoke with a nod as he stood and placed the spoon back into the bowl. "Cicero will be back soon with something better."

With a nod to me, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Leaning back with a sigh, I wondered when I would be allowed to get up. I wasn't going to get any stronger by just laying here and my arms had been finished finally. Years of stitching patterns had helped me become quick with my needle, not taking anywhere near as long as I had when I'd just started making them.

Besides, as much as I wanted to start on my legs, I knew I needed to build my strength back up even more. My arms would be enough to hold me together until I could get to my legs. They would need to be enough. I needed to get out of here. If I didn't get out of here soon, it felt like I would never leave.

With that thought, I began pulling the blankets that covered me to the side, flipping them over as needed until they were nearly pushed off the bed. Looking down, I wished they had given me a pair of sleep pants instead of these things that stopped before they even reached my knees.

I barely held back the wince at the scars that trailed over my legs in random areas. The cuts from a few close calls back when I was just learning how different the city was from back in Bruma when it came to stealing. The burn down one side where a fire trap had gotten me before I could move out of the way.

With no patterns to hide the marks, my legs looked ugly to me. All but the faint scars left behind from some of the previous patterns I had created, tiny dots upon the skin from years of stitches that had made my legs something colorful and lovely to me.

Climbing slowly out of the bed, I gasped when my legs tried to give out on me before I could grab at the nightstand for support. Barely keeping my feet under me, I slowly straightened up again, taking a single step toward the wall as I placed a hand against it to steady myself. Slowly, I made my way along the wall, stopping often to rest. It took several minutes just to reach the fireplace before I finally stopped, carefully lowering myself until I sat in front of the dying fire and began adding more wood until it was big enough to start warming the room again. I didn't even notice the sound of the door open and close nearby.

"Faith shouldn't be out of bed yet. She needs to eat to get her strength back. She should also cover herself so she can keep warm. The last thing Faith needs to do is get sick on top of everything else that has happened," Cicero said as he placed a covered plate down on the nightstand, quickly grabbing one of the blankets barely hanging from the bed.

Coming over to where I sat, he began gently placing the blanket over me, lifting my legs with his gloved hands to tuck the edges underneath to protect me from the cold stone of the floor. Not once did he comment on the scars he must have seen, something I was unused to since even the healers would remark whenever I had to go to them instead of turning to a potion.

"There, that is better. Now for the food. Cicero has brought something he thinks sweet Faith will enjoy far more than what those men tried to call stew. Cicero is sorry it took so long to get it, but he thinks Faith will find it worth the wait," he said as he went back and grabbed the plate before returning and sitting beside me.

I could already tell he was determined to feed me, yet again. He was definitely punishing me. Or so I thought until he lifted the covering to reveal a meal I hadn't thought to ever see in Skyrim. Delicately cooked rabbit sat beside a helping of seasoned potatoes cut into bite-sized pieces, although the cooked carrots next to them had me sigh.

More carrots? Really?

"Cicero thinks you will like these ones," was all he said before setting the plate in his lap and grabbing the knife and fork laying beside the rabbit.

Moments later, I begrudgingly found myself agreeing, the seasonings bringing out the sweetness of the carrots.