Every Inch The Prince He Was
Hello, and welcome to the first chapter of a story I've been working on for maybe a couple months, off and on. This is the part I've got done, but I've reached the point where all I do is pick at the spelling errors. Please note that while I haven't played Oblivion, I am enough of a loremaster from Morrowind, (I hope) and I've played earlier games in The Elder Scrolls series. UESP,net is good for something more specific to Oblivion, but if you see something that's obviously canon rape, I TAKE CREATIVE LICENSE. Tell me about it anyway, it might make the story awesome to try and work it in. If you review, please add one of these adjectives: humorous, amorous, dark, or confusing, because that helps me see a little more of what you thought of the story. It saves you the trouble of having to think of a review to write! Thank you, I don't own Elder Scrolls, and Have a Nice Day.
Sheogorath had lost the bet. Azura had found him out. He sighed, and gazed at the books on the walls around him. Azura's servant had only fifteen years before the time would have been up, and as the loser, and defaulter, he had to confine himself in solitude as well. He had chosen his study. He felt lonely here, now that his servants had tired of his diversions and games, and realized that his power only extended to the doorway.
At least they still brought food. But Azura was probably laughing at him. She'd taken her time deciding what Sheogorath ought to do for his transgression. Finally, the Twilight Prince decided that Sheogorath ought to reside in seclusion for what would have been the remainder of her servant's tenure. It would be only a small slice of the immortality the Princes shared.
Sheogorath kicked a table and moved to a bed he'd dragged in. He sat down and stared up at the ceiling. Seven more years to go...
When one Prince visits another, it is customary to appear in the form that the host finds appropriate. Most of the Daedric Lords were rather lenient, such as only requiring a certain type of clothing. Not Sheogorath. He had a different preference for every Prince, and for Azura his was at once surprisingly simple and singularly irritating. "I want you to look every inch the Prince you are, instead of running around in a dress."
She had to admit that she'd told him to dress himself as a fool several times, just after the defeat of Jyggalag, before he'd given her that particular stipulation. But she'd tried everything to subvert it at any time, one memorable occasion she'd worn the visage of the Mane of Elsweyr. It had gotten her a laugh.
This time, however, the visit would be marked by two things: first, she was celebrating her technical victory in gambling, and second, she needed his help. Therefore, she was going to finally dress the way she knew Sheogorath wanted her to. And so she stood before a mirror, naked.
First, she let her blue skin fade to a dusky tan. She'd sported the color not that long ago when the mortals were fighting in the aftermath of their King Lysandus's death, but recently decided blue was a nice color- it pissed off that pretender Vivec when he'd seen. Her black hair she let down and slid her fingers through to work out the kinks and knots. Finally, she smoothed out her chest and masculinized her figure. She sighed as she regarded the young man in the mirror before her now, it would do.
Minutes later, Azura finished tying his hair back with a plain silk ribbon and glanced back over at the mirror, it showed a Prince, if nothing else. The reflection's right hand clenched involuntarily- Azura was the Queen of the Night Sky, the Dawn and Dusk, The Mother of the Rose- it was just like Sheogorath to ask him to dress like this.
When he arrived in Sheogorath's plane of Oblivion, Azura noticed it was a little different. Without constant meddling by their lord, the somewhat chaotic monarchy that Sheogorath had established was now more of an anarchy, which he supposed that their Prince had more or less condoned anyway, so long as his word was final. Neither Azura nor Sheogorath did much in the way of actually governing their spheres of Oblivion.
Sheogorath's house was just as he remembered, he thought, as Azura wandered up to it. Stadaa was waiting for him.
"Lord Sheogorath is inside, I suppose you are here to see Him?" asked the Golden Saint, eying Azura's clothes. Azura had always been fond of the clothes of those who lived in hot places, like the Kajiits and Redgaurds. Right now, for example, he was showing off the finely toned body he'd created, by only wearing a small vest and some loose pants. He was also wearing some sandals.
Azura cocked an eyebrow at the GStadaa, and entered the palace. He passed the throne room where Sheogorath would have sat, it was empty. He then found the study, and smiled at the glowing barrier he'd helped create. It blocked all noise and visibility from the inside, but the person behind it could hear and see as much as they wanted. They also couldn't leave.
Azura approached the entrance, and stuck his head in, to check if Sheogorath was receptive to company.
"Would you mind my entrance, Sheogorath?" he asked, wincing at the masculine voice his throat produced. He'd taken the form of a very young man, so his voice would be higher and less jarring, but obviously not young enough. But he'd not wanted to appear too youthful- there was a certain level of maturity expected of the Queen.
Sheogorath was laying spreadeagled on a bed. The Prince of Madness raised his head. Azura could see that he'd not yet bothered getting ready, had perhaps even been sleeping. The other Prince's beard was not groomed and his hair stuck up at odd angles. He was also in bedclothes.
Azura took a step inside the room when no immediate protest was made. And he heard an audible intake of breath on his full entrance.
"I've done it, now. I've finally managed to drive myself mad," Sheogorath exhaled. Azura cocked his eyebrow again, and sat down without being invited to. With Sheogorath, if you gave a good enough reason, chances are there wasn't going to be too harsh of consequences. Unless you were mortal.
"And what makes you think that?" Azura asked blandly, pouring himself some wine from a half empty bottle on the desk. The glass had been clean and empty, Sheogorath must have been drinking straight out of the bottle. Azura was pleased that the wine in question was red, and that it smelled okay when he lifted it in a small "toast". He didn't want to think about what else it might have been.
"I'm not thinking. I'm not able to think, except when I'm trying to think of things to say. But that's not going well," Sheogorath laughed a little maniacally and sat up to better regard his visitor. Azura took a sip of the wine. Sheogorath stared openly, admiring the dark blues of Azura's clothes and the silver and gold threads that made him looked like he was cloaked in the stars he ruled over. Stunning, if there was need for a word for it.
"Hmm. That seems unfortunate," Azura remarked, and took a larger drink.
Sheogorath swallowed. Azura had really done what he asked this time, he even had an Adam's apple for once.
"It would be, but I'm not cognizant enough to fully appreciate how awful it is. I feel a little euphoric, actually."
"Good for you, then."
Sheogorath stood then, and went over to the desk.
"You must want something of me," he said, as he placed his hands on the dark wood. Azura smiled at him, then, and inside Sheogorath felt something snap due to stress. Forget stunning, and forget doing what he'd asked. Azura had appeared to him as his own personal definition of sexual appeal. Sheogorath cursed inwardly. It was not bad enough that he'd lost? Now Azura needed to subject him to more hell?
"Yes, and I figure it shall take not much effort from you. You heard of my involvements in the province of Morrowind, yes? With the mortal Indoril Nerevar?"
Sheogorath nodded, slowly. "That was a long time ago, Azura. What has that to do with now?"
"I promised to reincarnate Indoril. Nerevarine- that is what they call his future self. I have done this."
Sheogorath picked up the wine bottle and took a swig.
"However, the Nerevarine Incarnate is not acting like he should. He is going about killing innocents, stealing, and ignoring his destiny as the Incarnate," Azura scowled, "I was quite looking forward to those poseurs getting their comeuppance. I was wondering if you'd like to help me set the Nerevarine on the right path."
Sheogorath thought a moment. Morrowind was a rather nice province, he liked those pretty netches flying about. Lots of fun could be had with them. He'd liked the zeal of the Dunmer, too. But, those Tribunal pretenders had moved in. That had seriously cut into the amount of adventurers to torture for entertainment.
Sheogorath considered. If the Nerevarine took down the Tribunal, then there would be more followers for Sheogorath, and there would be more madness he could spread. And, Azura looked sexy. He could agree, and see if he could get something out of it too.
"If I help you, I want something in return..." Sheogorath could see stars in the Twilight Prince's eyes, and Sheogorath felt as though he was electrified, with that wonderful energy that occurs when one's mind snaps.
"Oh, and what is that? To get out of here?" Azura chuckled, and Sheogorath sat down across from his fellow lord. It was tempting to ask, but it would be cheap. No, Sheogorath could wait. He wanted... stimulation.
He ran a hand through his dark hair. At times he liked to appear more youthful, at times he did not like to. He usually kept his appearance of a gentleman of middling age. Today, and for the past month, he'd chosen the appearance he'd had when he'd met Lysandus on the street- a thirty-something conniving business man. He'd wanted to test the king to see if the leader was of sound mind.
"I think I would like a challenge," Sheogorath said slowly, watching the other Prince's eyes dance.
"Name your stakes," Azura purred.
Stadaa sat outside the barrier, sipping some comberry tea. She leafed through some paperwork, and then picked up a novel that she'd been meaning to read. She looked up at the glistening wall which locked her Lord inside. She wondered vaguely what Sheogorath had done that Azura relaxed the terms of his stay.
Sheogorath still hadn't made contact outside the barrier, however, so Stadaa took another sip of her tea. She didn't think Sheogorath was really going to break the spell, but it gave her Master a reason to brush his teeth every day.
During this time the deal was in effect, Azura came back to the Mad Prince's Palace a lot more often than he'd planned. And each time, he did so in the face he'd made the first day. He didn't know why, for as soon as he left the plane of Oblivion, he'd instantly assume her severe azure tones. But there was something that excited him, something in the way Sheogorath reacted, that made him continue using it. 'Just until the deal's over,' she told herself.
And so he came back. And laughed with Sheogorath, as they watched the Incarnate struggle to kill a giant netch with a fork and no magic. Sheogorath rewarded the incarnate with the Spear of Bitter Mercy, and Azura was about to question the advisability of giving the rampant Nerevarine a weapon, when he heard the Incarnate cry out in triumph through the altar.
"Finally, something to kill that creepy asshole with!"
Azura playfully hit the back of Sheogorath's head, somewhat annoyed that he hadn't thought of that. But it got what he wanted, the Nerevarine Incarnate on the right path. Only the Prince of Madness could have so artfully pulled off such reverse psychology.
The image of the altar down in the city of the Pretender faded, Azura had needed to smother a chuckle when he'd found out that Sheogorath had one there. What a wonderful way to screw with that errant mortal. The study was quiet, comfortably so. Finally, Azura spoke.
"It seems that you have kept your side of the deal," he whispered
Despite the deal being over, Azura didn't stop visiting the Shivering Isles so frequently. She didn't know why, or would claim not to know why, if any of the other Lords asked. Or she would say that she and Sheogorath were busy on a matter that concerned them both.
Inside, where she might not even know it, it was really because Sheogorath was lonely. And so was she. Ruling over her entire plane, not an equal to challenge her at all back at her palace. Here, she was constantly at her wits, on her guard. It was refreshing. And Sheogorath, though his sentence had been lightened, was stuck in one place for her to visit whenever she so chose.
It was rather interesting that the Mad God couldn't think his way out of the puzzle she'd presented him with. He needed to find some sort of way of contacting outside of his prison, on his own, without anyone's help. Throwing things at the barrier didn't work, though.
Sheogorath stared at the barrier for a full hour at times, and others he merely milled around. Sometimes he ignored it. He could almost believe the time in confinement was hell, but then Azura would come to him. The fluid magic from the doorway caressing that skin, sparkling like the stars he couldn't see from the study. Sheogorath could hardly contain himself at these times.
But even the Mad God knows that it is wrong to jump on the Queen of the Night Sky and ravish her, as if he were some aurora beam of energy that couldn't stop tickling the stars, and shivered under their ministrations.
That didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. He had it all planned out. First, he would clean the whole study, and have Stadaa take out his bedclothes to be cleaned the next time she brought food. Then, he would set up a table, for he and Azura to enjoy some food- some quiche, a cheese plate, maybe some crackers and a cheese spread, to start with.
Then, there would be a kwama egg noodle pasta, with soft goat cheese sauce. He could imagine the wonderful smells, how Azura's eyes would darken with mirth as they chatted about nothing and everything over wine and food. Eventually, Azura would probably get some of the cheese sauce on his beautiful face, and Sheogorath wouldn't be able to stop himself from licking it off.
Always, to his great disappointment, he woke up from these idle fantasies right after their obligatory passionate kiss. Never did he get to what he hoped would happen next. Sheogorath sighed and imagined the taste of smooth cheesecake on the Moonshadow Queen's tounge, before drifting again off to sleep.
Sheogorath sighed and started doodling on a spare bit of parchment. None of his servants were allowed to make any sort of meaningful contact with him, just bring food and take out dirty things. Soon, he was going to run out of paper. Sheogorath wondered what he'd do then- move on to the walls? He could do that. He could build some sort of tower out of his books and take apart the bookshelves as well. Any surface, really.
He closed his eyes, pressing his fists over them. He felt so empty sometimes, and he knew it was because he was lonely. Ask any of his servants, and they'd tell you that Sheogorath didn't like to be alone. Only on very rare occasions did he have no one to talk to.
He took his hands off his face, and looked down. There was in front of him a picture of Azura so lifelike he could almost believe she was here, and a tanned hand turning it around. Sheogorath's eyes followed the warm skin up an arm and up to a face that made his heart leap, and Azura spoke.
"Damn it."
Sheogorath froze. What kind of response was that?
"I was going to surprise you with this, because this place could use a little decoration," Azura produced one of the most visually perfect roses that Sheogorath had ever seen on the words 'with this', "and you've started without me," he finished, handing the blossom to Sheogorath. Azura chuckled darkly, and then picked up the spare parchment.
"May I keep it?" he asked Sheogorath, who had been holding the delicate rose in his hand as if it were some small bird to be protected. Sheogorath looked up, and shrugged. Why not?
He couldn't hold in him any sort of negative emotion when Azura was around. The despair and loneliness were banished for now, and he smiled to himself while Azura ranted on the latest thing the Tribunal had gotten up to. Where would he put the rose, so that it would flourish? Or would he dry it, so that he might forever have a piece of Azura's beauty with him, even when the Mother of the Rose was elsewhere? Maddening, the decision.
Azura was gone. Sheogorath looked around his study and it didn't register whether it was clean, dirty, filled with cheese or on fire. All the information he needed was received upon waking up, alone.
They'd managed to stay up very late, or early, perhaps more than a few days, of nothing but jokes and reading stories, and generally putting off going home in Azura's case, and enabling in Sheogorath's. They had eventually collapsed from exhaustion on Sheogorath's bed, and fallen asleep.
But now he was alone, and already the place seemed to lose a little of its light or warmth, despite the fire burning brightly in the grate. Sheogorath gently stroked one petal of the rose he had, the embodiment of the beauty that would blind an ordinary mortal.
Was that what Azura was trying to say? The other lord had been distant- and yet not. But acting strangely all the same. Sheogorath was sure his behavior was odd, every interaction he'd had with Azura since she'd showed up that first day wearing that face was charged with something exciting, even dangerous. Sheogorath had an idea of what it was, but he wasn't quite sure.
Love was something he cursed mortals with, after all. Although Sanguine would have something to say about that- but he was only responsible for the poor fetchers that didn't go mad from passion. When love was involved, Sanguine and Sheogorath sometimes became collaborators.
It was that thought that made him think that perhaps Sanguine was playing a trick on him. The Prince of Debauchery would think that was funny. He would have had to get Azura in on it as well, unless he was playing her as well. Sheogorath frowned. No, Sanguine wasn't interested in elaborate mind games like Azura was. He got straight to the point, and got what he wanted, which was usually a pretty woman. A joke on Sheogorath would have to be simple enough not to take time away from the important business of convincing mortals to have lots and lots of casual sex. By any means necessary.
So if Sanguine wasn't playing a trick on him, then what was Azura playing at? Her little request regarding the Nerevarine was over. He'd given the Incarnate a spear to better equip himself for killing Dagoth Ur... though the young man was still going to need to find those two other things to stab the Heart. Sheogorath was a little fuzzy on those details.
He looked at the rose that Azura had given him. And sighed the sigh of someone who would very much rather be somewhere else.
At this point, Azura burst into her Rose Palace with little warning. She walked quickly to her study, at which point she began quickly and efficiently to fill out the stacks of paperwork associated with running a palace and a country that had piled up since her last bad mood.
The servants all avoided the study, except to bring her food at the times she looked open to receiving it. It was like this sometimes, when Azura was frustrated with something. The best thing to do, the Twilights had learned, was to allow her to work it out on her own. But this time, a few days after she returned from the Shivering Isles there was a visitor.
A young Twilight was out in the garden, tending to Azura's roses in the Mother's absence, when he arrived. A mortal man, looking to be in his early thirties, was blindfolded and half starved, and shouting at everything he could hear move. As the Twilight investigated the man, she saw him grow visibly more agitated with every rose she brushed as she struggled to evade his detection. He was beginning to show bloody marks from all the thorns he cut himself on.
He was broken and deranged, and was probably a victim of Sheogorath's plane, the Twilight thought. She carefully steered him to the palace. They could feed him, and care for him, and he could join them as a loyal servant to Azura after he was returned to the mortal realm.
A night's sleep seemed to do him well, the Twilight thought. She watched over him in her bed. She had figured how to get him to follow her to it, and given him food, which he ate hungrily. After that he had passed out. The Twilight took his dish away to the kitchens, not daring to leave him alone too long.
He awoke as she returned, settling herself on the edge of the bed and tucking her wings close to keep herself warm, as he had her blanket. He was confused, but not quite so disturbed as he had been the day before. She told him that he had reached Moonshadow, Azura's lands. He nodded, and tightened his blindfold.
Then he told her about some of the other spheres, things she'd heard of but never seen, as she had not yet left Moonshadow on any of her duties. He told her about the Ashpit, and the Coldharbour, and though she could not see his eyes, she could sense his terror at the memories.
"I had worn my blindfold to protect myself from the terrors of the Quagmire, and the intense beauty of this place, but in that terrible nightmare world I think she enjoyed sending me the most terrifying noises and sensations, broken only by the sound of thunder," he said in a breathy voice.
Sympathy touched the Twilight's red eyes. "You are safer here, or would be. Our mistress is frustrated as of late. I wouldn't take you to her until she is in a good mood. And don't tell her you were here longer unless she asks. Then apologize for it, and don't blame me," she instructed him. He nodded again.
Then the Twilight brightened her face, and the tone of her voice to match. "Now, we can scrub away your horrible experiences. I shall take you to the baths!"
It was a couple days after this that Azura had finished all her paperwork, and the Twilight decided it would be a good idea to bring the man to her.
Azura listened patiently to his tale. He was looking for the Telvanni Morian Zenas. Apparently, the man was actually the apprentice of Zenas, but couldn't get him out of his head. So he wanted to tell his old master to shut up, or something. It was a nice touch, the blindfold.
"So, you think he lost his mind and passed on to the Asylums, then?" she asked as he finished.
"Yes," Seif-ij Hidja said. "He must have, that, or faded away. But I cannot let his memory rule my life or mind any longer. I need to go to him, or what's left of him, and tell him to either leave me alone or return with me. Something! This anguish is unbearable. Such a close relationship we had- it is terrible that it is hanging like this. Perhaps you can help, as the bridge between two extremes, yourself."
Azura smiled, knowing the man couldn't see. It was an unusual request, to be sure, but how would she have known that when the Telvanni — Morian Zenas — passed through years ago, she would have further entertainment come of it? Interesting, and gratuitously distracting.
She decided to take the man to the Apochrypha first. No sense in going to the Asylums until they were sure that Zenas had truly passed through.
She made sure to have him hold tightly to her hand. Ordinary mortals could get lost in the library, but a Daedric prince would have the ability to find their way easier. She bowed low to Herma-Mora, explaining that she agreed to help a young man find a ghost which may be wandering his library. She presened Seif to him, although Seif had politely refused to remove his self-imposed blindness, he bowed to the Demon of Knowledge as well, and the great mass of tentacles opened the door. Claws clicked with the effort, but they were allowed inside.
"I sense that he has been here," Seif said at times. Azura patiently led him around bookshelves and the like, wondering at the strong connection the master and pupil must have had. She could certainly feel the pain of its disuse.
But eventually, Azura had taken him around the entire library, and they had talked to some of the ghosts still more lucid in their wanderings. Morian Zenas must indeed have slipped away, read too much, or seen something unseeable. At that point, Sheogorath's Madhouse would have opened the doors and embraced him.
Seif had such a look of despair on his face, despite his covered eyes. "I can feel the remnants of his touch, all around me! I was so close to concluding this. My hope is lost for returning with him again in my arms. Great Mother of the Night Sky, I thank you for assisting me in looking for my old master. If I return from the Madhouse alive, you may count me among your most loyal servants,"
Azura was sad inside as well. He was such a nice man, much like many of her other mortal servants. She pulled him close, knowing that he would most likely need the love and support of her cult after his experience. She prided herself on having a loving group of servants. She had once even read a book by one of them- the authoress's joy at having found this out was evident on every page.
There were damp spots on his blindfold as she led him through the exit. She thanked the great Herma-Mora for allowing them to search, and took Seif back to Moonshadow.
Of course, by doing a favor for the mortal man by taking him to the Apocrypha, she had of course been putting off going back to see Sheogorath. But what could she do about it? She'd done in a week all her records for the past ten years, and managed to hold off going back for a few more days by traipsing around the Apochrypha (which was easier if you were powerful enough to recognizes the visual tricks the shelves sometimes pulled), but now that the man was heading to the Asylums, she couldn't hold off seeing him any more.
And the worst thing was, she didn't really even want to. That was why she'd left when she woke in Sheogorath's bed- she wanted to do it again. It was warm there, unlike her bed at the Rose Palace. So confusing, these feelings. They felt as though they had been slowly collecting as a river drops its sediment, but recently they had also begun to feel as though they were the dam that had stood centuries only to finally fall to the water it had so dutifully held.