A/N: Whoo, re-write ahoy! I am so much happier with this. I mean, it's kind of crazy how much I like this better. Oh, but i guess some of you didn't read the first version, so, welcome! I hope you stay a while. So, formalities, i'm Canned Brilliance, and welcome to my story. This is rated T for minor swearing(which will most likely escalate in later chapters), some adult suggestions, and a smattering of violence here and there. And smoking, and drinking, and drug use. And, can't forget the pairings. A little bit of SheogorathxOC, and DragonbornxOC abound. Turn back if you're not prepared for that sort of thing. I don't really have much to say besides what's already been said, so, onwards.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scrolls series. The series belongs to the wonderful Bethesda Studios.


"Breathe in, breathe out. That's it, ducky, just in and out. See, right there, the crack in his armor? Swing for it and miss. Hit him on the backswing, he won't expect it. Or, maybe he will? I don't know. Swing!"


"That's impossible, I'm small and weak, barely strong enough to lift a great sword. Much less swing that around with enough force to knock a god off his feet."

"Then you'd better start training. There are fewer things more dangerous than order, and you are the only one who can stop it."

"I'll get Vile to help ya out, too. There's always some sucker wanting a purpose in life, we could probably scrounge up a mentor or two."

"I'll do what?"

"Oh, look. They're arguing again. How unexpected! You should leave, before they realize how far off the deep end you've gone."


"Oh, perfect. Really. I'm going to be so pleased. Watch me be pleased."

"Ducky, you're back! And you've cured our dear Emperor's night terrors, I see. Someone's dying to impress. I'm pleased!"

"Oh, look at that. I was right. Charming. Am i really that attractive from the back? Hello, lovely. How are you doing?"


"You're thinking of becoming his champion, aren't you? Aren't you?!"

"I-I didn't...I wasn't..."

"He doesn't even know. How adorable. Our subconscious thoughts are wondrous, don't you agree? You know, I have my doubts. He thinks that I can trust you."

"I refuse to let him even touch you!

"Damn. I am one cold-hearted son of a bitch. Fierce. Look at me, really. Oh, things are going to be fun indeed when you tell him. And you will tell me, no doubt about that."

"Alright, I...swear I won't talk to him."


"Please...please...you have to stop! I can't take it anymore! Please...please..."

"Oh, no crying now, little one. Perk up and keep that chin sky-high. We have work to do, tears won't stop the world from being destroyed."

"Stop what?"


"I will help you, one one condition."

"Name it."

"When that worm is silenced, I want his head."

"Understood, but I'm not actually slaying him..

"Then tell the other mortal fool to do it, but I want that disgusting abhorrence to hang in my halls for eternity."

"Alduin will not be defeated easily. What if he surrenders?"

"He will not. He is prideful to the point of overbearing arrogance. He will fight and he will die. And his skull will hang as a warning to those who oppose me."


"What have you done? You have corrupted the champion beyond reason! The corruption has infected their mind like a plague! An illness to which there is no cure!"

"Oh, it's this confrontation. Get me a bag of popcorn, would you? I'm going to enjoy this much too..much. Someone fetch me gummy worms! Not the green ones, either!"

"What are you talking about! I've done nothing of the sort! The mere notion that I would hurt my champion is a fallacy of the most revolting kind!"

"Oh, watch, Boethiah's going to go off on him. This is so fun!"


"I guess this is goodbye for now, sweetling. Come visit me sometime. We'll share some tea and a tart. And we can dine on that lovely waitress down in Bravil. Ciao, ducky, i'll see you in a tick or two."


"Time to wake up, little one. You have a job to do, and you're going to do it right. But first, you have to wake up. Wake up. Wake up!"


Pale green eyes opened, bleary from sleep. The woman pushed herself up, white hair almost brown from the dirt that covered it. A quiet yawn echoed in the dark room as she pulled herself off the floor, the light sheen of grey water covering her skin and clothes dripping on the hard stone.

A quick look around confirmed that she was still in the crumbling ruin that she'd gone to sleep in, and it was not a nightmare, as she'd hoped. But, no, the candles were still lit, the water from the cracked ceiling still gushed, and the shrine to Sheogorath still stood proud in front of her, his soon-to-be offerings spread in front of the statue.

She contemplated leaving the deserted, crumbling sewer. The thief then imagined the looks on her family's faces when the dragonborn's body was lit on the ceremonial pyre, ash swirling into the sky. She decided a decrepit ruin wasn't so bad, compared to the alternative.

The ruin was deep under the ruins of Vivec City, in far south Vvardenfell. Boiling waters ran through the still-smoking crater of the once-great city, and the oblivion-spawned moon known as Baar Dau (once called the Ministry of Truth) sat in the middle as the Scathing Bay swirled around it.

Just to get to the ruin she'd had to take potion after potion to make sure that she wouldn't burn to death in the torrid water. Then there were the potions of water-breathing to make sure she didn't drown in the bay, and the potions of disease resistance for the toxic ash that thrived in the water and clouded the air, and that was after she'd navigated the Ashlands and the rocky, near-inhabitable coasts that surrounded the damned island.

She hoped dearly to never return.

However, she was already there, and she'd come this far. There was no turning back now. Besides, the world needed Valghar, and Valghar needed her. She'd hate to fail both of them.

The woman looked back over her list, just to make sure that indeed, she had everything. She had a bouquet of calipers and tongs, tied loosely with light red sting. Not pink. The madman she'd talked to had been very clear about that. They were on a bed of assorted poisonous roots and leaves, which she would light on fire after she added the last ingredient.

Which, incidentally, was 'the minimus of one unloyal to His cause'. Or, in simpler terms, her pinkie. At least, she hoped she'd be the right donor. If she wasn't, she was going to sacrifice her poor finger for nothing.

Wiggling it once and kissing it goodbye, she placed her hand on the calipers, clenching her teeth as she raised her hunting knife, bringing it down with a loud, metallic clang. The new stump on her hand freely gushed blood, her small finger resting lightly on the herbs as she held the wound with shaking fingers. After a moment, she let the bleeding appendage go, summoning a flame spell in her non-injured hand to light the offering.

It lit surprisingly well, despite being wet with blood. Bright gold and green flames leapt towards the statue, the metal tools melting quickly along with the now-bubbling flesh of her separated finger. Finally, the flames completely engulfed the cold stone smile of Sheogorath's depiction, disappearing in the air with a final roar and crackle.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Clutching her freely-bleeding hand to her chest, she shook slightly. Turning away from the shrine, she chuckled quietly in disbelief. The nearly-silent laughter devolved into strained breaths as her hand shook, scarlet liquid dribbling through her fingers into a dark puddle on the dark floor.

"You know," a hand came around her side to gently pry her hand away, gripping her wrist and pulling to turn her around. The mad god stood there in all his insane glory, all violet and crimson attire and milky eyes, with a toothy grin any slaughterfish would be proud of. He raised the severed stump to his mouth, sucking on the wound like it was a completely normal thing to do. "I really don't appreciate being interrupted when i'm occupied." The woman winced as he licked at the wound, however he continued, speech muffled. "However, I guess I can make an acception. I mean, it's not everyday that Nocturnal's inviolable little champion summons me up for a chat."

"So," he said, removing her hand from his mouth with an audible 'pop!', "what business could such a consecrated thief have with an old daedra like myself?"

Inwardly forcing her voice not to shake, she held her hand to her chest while she spoke. "I want to make a deal."

A loud, raucous bout of laughter escaped Sheogorath. "I think you've got your daedra confused, ducky. I'm not silly little Clavicus Vile. I don't grant wishes. You'll have to summon up the short chap and that hound of his if you want a happy ending."

"I tried. He pointed me to you." She couldn't help but be miserable at his statement. She'd ended up reuniting the other Daedra Lord and his powerful hound, but Vile had been so angry at not being able to play her he'd denied her any further deals. The only reason his masque sat inside her pack was at the nudge of Barbas, who had seen it necessary to reward her.

"Oh, did he now? What exactly did the vertically challenged lad say? I'll be sure to remind him when i'm beating his face in." The madgod adopted a brooding look, leaning on the edge of his pedestal as he sulked. "Really, is it so hard to get a little vacation time? Spreading madness through the whole of nirn isn't exactly easy."

"He said that 'he wasn't going to deal with any of this and if anyone was it'd be that gibbering fool.'"

Sighing, Sheogorath draped himself over his stone depiction. "Ungrateful kin, the lot of them. Don't listen to a word they say, they'll corrupt you beyond measure." The only sound audible was the rushing of water above them before the madgod jumped towards her, obviously delighted. "Oh, I have it! I have a wonderful deal for you! Wonderful indeed."

He grabbed her non-injured hand, clasping it in both his own. "Care to hear it?"

"Uh, i'd..i'd love to."

"Brilliant! Now, i'm guessing you summoned me here to get your Dragonborn back to the world of the living. Unless, of course, your deal was to use me as an interior decoration, which honestly would be just as great of a deal as I look positively radiant in the right lighting. However! I'm not going to try to jailbreak your saint without knowing I have something wonderful waiting for me when I get back."

"What do you have in mind?"

The Prince looked pleasantly surprised. "I didn't think you'd ask. Usually you little mortals just offer up your soul on a plate and sob to me about their problems. Rivers upon rivers of tears."

Dropping her hand and circling her like a predator, looking her up and down, he seemed to come to a decision. "I think...I want your mind. And, of course, your unwavering loyalty, but that's a given."

"My...mind?"

"Oh, yes. You see, I can't take your heart because that poor little thing is fortified in walls of reinforced titanium. Very, very hard to crack. I can't take your soul because my endearing brothers and sisters would throw one, giant collective fit. We're all vying for that little piece of you after you die, you know. Power and all that. However, that pretty little mind of yours is open and up for grabs."

Brushing off some nonexistent lint from her shoulder, he continued. "You'd be surprised at what the mind can do. It's both more powerful than you can imagine and weaker than any other organ in that meatsack you call a body. Although, I will admit, you are a very nice meatsack." He ruffled her hair. "And, as a plus, it gives me a foot in the door to claiming your soul as my own when you die. It's looking very good for me. And, you get that adorable bear of a harbinger back! Everyone wins!"

"So...you get to play with my head and I get Valghar back? What's the catch?"

"Catch? Oh, I never!"

The madgod looked positively scandalized.

The thief didn't really care.

"Oh, fine. Smart little mortal, you should pay a visit to old Hermie sometime. He'd love that quick wit. There may be a few little, teensy, insignificant side effects. Nothing to worry about."

"Side effects like...?"

"Oh, hallucinations, phantom limbs, minor delusions, disorganized thoughts, thought blocking, neologisms, paranoia, suicidal and/or aggressive behavior, memory loss, catatonia, and death. Like I said before, nothing serious."

She gave him a dead look, before relenting. "I don't really have a choice, do I?...alright. Fine. I'll make the deal."

"Wonderful!" He clapped his hands, obviously excited. "Now, are you, to say, 'in the business' of making deals with daedric princes, or is this your...first time? Ah, well, not like it matters, bite your lip and pray for mercy, little one!"

Grabbing her wrists, she choked out a scream, the skin he touched burning like she'd dipped her hands in fire.

"Branding," he started, "especially branding like this, would probably get you or I in quite a bit of trouble." he stopped for a moment to admire his handiwork before he continued. "However, I rather like insurance, and this is quite the insurance. Wouldn't you agree?"

Unable to speak, but fearing the repercussions if she ignored the mad god, she forced out a small nod. Sheogorath smiled in return.

"Good! Now, you only need to suffer for about ten more minutes, then we'll be done. Or an hour, depending on how thick your skin is." She whimpered at the thought.

"Oh, if that's not the saddest sound i've ever heard...all right, i'll be done yesterday, just give me one...ah, there we are." He removed his hand, blowing quickly on each wrist. "Perfect! Look at that. No going back now. Did you know you have rather perfect skin for branding? Not too taut, just thick enough to burn, but healthy enough to heal, really quite exquisite."

He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. "Now, our contract's complete! Transaction, done, you've signed on the line and our deal's been sealed. I'm off to pull your friend out of his eternal Nordic slumber party. And, as a token of goodwill, i'll put you right back where you came. Ciao, ducky, see you in a few! Oh, and i'd advise closing your eyes. Raw power and all that."

"Wait, wha-bye?"

Bright light engulfed her vision, the thief clenching her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the gildergreen bloomed in front of her, there was no madgod to be found, and Heimskr was shrieking in fear(something he'd wholeheartedly deny later). Talos's stone gaze glared down at her, silently judging the thief for her rash actions.

However, the woman had no time to care, as the dragonborn would be up and on his feet in less than a day. No, Dmitri Rousseau had better things to do than worry about the judgement of the Divines. Pulling on a pair of gloves to hide her new markings, she headed towards Breezehome. She had a job to do.


A/N: So it begins. I hope the name change is alright with you guys. Originally Dmitri was the name I put down, but autocorrect changed it to 'Demetri', and by the time I noticed it was too late to change it(in the first story). Anyways, hope this caught your interest, and I hope you'll tell me what you think so far. Thanks for reading! (I love you guys!)