The screams of the Daedra faded into Oblivion as their essences were dispersed, feeble wisps of dark energy writhing where their avatars had been.
Her sword slipped from her gloved hand. What was this feeling? Why did she feel so...
He betrayed you.
That's what Daedra do. That's why they had to die.
They were not yours to kill.
That was a lie. She knew that now.
She didn't feel the impact of her armoured knees on the floor. Her hands limp at her sides, gravel and dust staining the fine leather.
It was done. She had done it.
They were dead.
She didn't resist the pull. The corners of her vision split into a million yellow, red, violet strands; woven into a pulsating net over a dark purple emptiness. Her scorched-clear mind couldn't muster the energy necessary to be curious about the suspicious lack of colours and entities beyond his realm. It was over now.
He was sitting on that same throne, surrounded by his favourite fools in their motley and jolly bells. There was something different about him... a smirk behind that enigmatic beaming grin, his multicoloured clothes glowing with fresh energy.
Sheogorath held out an unevenly manicured hand and was presented with a bone-white flute. The shape of the instrument was too alike to a human bone for her comfort, but the threads of logic were escaping the girl at the moment.
"Well, you fulfilled your part of the bargain! I wasn't really expecting this to work, but... you pulled through!"
He played a tune on the flute, black eyes fixed on her flushed, sweaty face.
"The other Daedra are gone, which means that humanity- and all the others- are now safe from their sneakiness. I am now a Daedric KING!"
The fools shook their bells furiously, clamouring with tambourines, drums and various other instruments. The beat was wild, irregular, and it began to fold together into a fast-paced rhythym that had the jesters frothing at the mouth in their excitement. Sheogorath, not to be outstaged, threw himself from the throne and gripped her hands with inhuman strength. He pulled them both into a crazy whirling dance that spun them through the crowd of fools as if they weren't even there.
Despite herself, the girl began to feel the beat in her blood and bones as they danced together. Sheogorath seemed perfectly happy to follow her lead when she began to stomp with each heartbeat, yanking the Daedra along as the girl finally- finally- let her limbs move as they wished.
Unexpectedly, the freedom of simply doing as she wished was... overcoming. She kicked her foot up high, above her head, and her dance partner easily moved alongside her so she wouldn't smash his teeth out. They both twirled together as the beat grew ever more frantic, arms held high. The Daedra boomed out a laugh and struck her across the cheekbone. She reeled from the blow, but turned the momentum of their turn to strike him back, lashing against his chin.
They paused to catch their breath, though Sheogorath was probably just humouring her human need for things like oxygen after a strenuous activity.
"I like you, girlie. I think I might grant you a boon, which, all things considered, you've already deserved several times over. Buuuuuuuut... what could you possibly want?"
Those black eyes were fixed on her again.
"You have power, a dreadfully boring need if you ask me. You have gold... though not a golden crown of thorns, which every heroic hero needs for their heroism in this day and age. Mayhaps a Maypole? You could string up some intestines and have a merry old time!"
She took another second to breathe, cursing the lungs within her that thought they still needed air in a realm of Oblivion. The girl straightened up and surveyed the prince- or king- with as much suspicion as she could muster. "Asking for a Maypole? More like you'd string me up instead."
"Perhaps you'd enjoy a magical staff, then. One that... ooh... turns people into chickens! You like chickens, right? Or rabbits! Turn a dragon into a meal, literally!"
He was having way too much fun.
"But you ain't no wizard, lassie. What about a magical dog? One that speaks! And can play a trombone! What about a whistle that tames mammoths? A scarf that thoroughly chastises your enemies?"
Sheogorath kept on in this vein for some time. He was the daedric prince of madness, she supposed. He wouldn't be much of a crazed deity if he wasn't incredibly creative.
And annoying.
"Sheogorath. Sheo- Sheogorath!"
He posed in those ridiculous clothes, one frilly-sleeved hand on his hip, the other held arched over his head. "Yeeeeeeeeeeees?"
"I just- I just want to go home. Back to the real world. Please."
His face closed off, darkened. The mad prince strutted back to his throne and sat with one leg slung over the armrest. "Terribly sorry, lass. Can't be done."