After dealing with Cicero pestering me all week, I had decided that I should go home and visit my kids. It had been a while since I had seen either them or my husband, and I had been willing to make the trek down to Lakeview Manor since I really ought to more often. A chill breeze swept through the half-snowy landscape, and I shivered. Amber grasses crinkled with each footstep. When I got close enough to see, I realized that a woman was at my doorstep, and my husband, Cosnach, was chatting with her. Ugh. I had just walked a million miles through the snow, did I have to deal with strangers, too? I sighed and moved close enough to hear their conversation over the wind.
"Well, hello, Conshtance. I'm" —he burped— "Cosnach. Good ta meetcha." Swaying with each movement, he stuck a grimy hand out towards her. Cosnach was, as per the usual, perpetually drunk. And that wasn't any woman, that was Constance Michel, the headmistress of the Honorhall Orphanage. The haze of sleep that had coated my brain zipped away and my aching muscles and feet didn't seem to matter as much. I ran to the door, the dragon bone in my backpack clacking around. "Constance Michel! What are you—I mean—it's a pleasure to see you here, what brings you to my manor?" I wanted to try to get in between her and a view into my house, because I doubted it was respectable.
"I'm running a follow-up on all the households that have adopted children from the orphanage. Just to see that the children are being cared for. I sent out a letter, did you not get it?"
"I guess not," I said. I deigned not to mention that that was probably because I'd been holed up in an assassin den for the past week.
"I didn't know this was your husband," Constance said, side eying Cosnach. "You should have introduced me." Translation: I didn't know your husband got drunk at nine in the morning. You could have mentioned it when you came to adopt a freaking child.
"He's not always like this," I said, smiling.
"That'sh not true," Cosnach slurred. "The day I'm not drunk off my ash is the day—"
"Lovely, darling." Yes, thank you, Cosnach, for that wonderful, totally not incriminating addition to the conversation. "How about you step inside, Constance?" I said. I had no idea what she would see in there—I'd only just gotten back, too.
The view inside didn't fail to disappoint. Empty bottles of mead littered the floor and tables. There were even a few skulls lying around.
A horrible screeching erupted from inside the house. I jumped and ran inside, kicking aside bottles and skulls as I went. I didn't mean to kick them, it was just what happened when I ran since there were so many of them. I threw open the doors to see Minette and Frodnar, fighting over Boo, our frostbite spider.
Fighting. Frostbite spider. Oh, brother.
"It's my turn to play with Boo!" Minette screeched, a hand on Boo's leg.
"No, it's mine, you just finished playing like an hour ago!" Frodnar yelled back. Boo's fangs wriggled.
"Mine!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Uh-huh!"
They were getting closer and closer, and Minette's hands were balled into fists at her sides. Then, like they were reading each other's minds, they leapt at each other and battered at their arms. I sprinted for them and forced my body between the fight. I wrenched them apart. It was like pulling leeches off, they stuck too much to each other.
"What did I say about having the spider in the house?" I said.
"You never said anything about it!" Minette shouted. Unfortunately, that was true, but it would have been nice if she would have just gone along with it. Just this once. For Constance's sake. "And it's my turn!" This led Frodnar to jump in too with his own protests and then Minette retaliated and we were back to the screeching. I had each by their shoulders and was probably gripping harder than I should have, but in their haste to hit each other, they were slapping me as well, so it was fair.
"NO ONE GETS THE SPIDER, HE GOES OUTSIDE!" I shouted.
"But he's always inside, he even sleeps in our beds!" Frodnar whined. "You just wouldn't know because you're never home."
I narrowed my eyes. "Alright, young man, you—"
I caught sight of Constance. Her mouth was twisted into a grimace. Fuck.
"You should meet our visitor, Constance Michel."
Minette's face transformed like a _. One moment she glared at Frodnar, the next she grinned and jumped up and down. "Constance!" she exclaimed. She wrestled out of my grip and zoomed over to give Constance a bear hug.
"Hello, Minette," Constance said, returning the hug. "How have you been?"
"Papa and Daddy are great, they let us have pets!"
"I can see that. And who are you?" she said to Frodnar.
"I'm Frodnar."
"And how did you end up with Faren?"
"Well… my parents were Gerdur and Lod—they had a farm in Riverwood. And one day… one day, someone had shot them with daedric arrows."
"Shh, shh. It's alright. You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No, it's fine. And Papa was in Riverwood at the time, and he offered to adopt me… you know, since I didn't have anywhere to go."
I smiled at Constance. What an upstanding citizen I was. I took in lone children at every turn and certainly had nothing to do with them being in their present orphaned situation.
Minette piped up. "Your parents were killed with daedric arrows, too? That's what happened to my dad. He—"
"Wow I sure am glad all of you know each other!" I jumped in before Minette could say anything more. "I'm just going to go talk to my steward while you guys catch up, alright? Cosnach, can you…?"
He was already drinking a pint of ale again. Evidently one of the bottles on the floor wasn't completely empty.
"Well, catch up anyway," I said, scanning the room for any more offending objects. The Wabbajack and Sanguine Rose leaned against the corner nearest to Constance, and Mehrunes Razor was still lodged in the wall (and still a little bloody) from that time I asked my bard to play "The Age of Oppression" and she played "The Age of Aggression" instead. Where had I put the Mace of Molag Bal? Or all those Mythic Dawn robes? Or my shrouded armor? Fuck, I had a lot to deal with later.
I zipped into the kitchen, which would only hold more problems. See, my steward was a little… cannibalistic? And the whole family joined in? Not altogether knowingly, but Cosnach was too drunk and the kids were too young to care. I took my quiver of daedric arrows off my back and shoved it into a tomato barrel. A few tomatoes would get bruised, but I would have to accept that. Hopefully Constance hadn't noticed the arrows before now.
When I opened the door, Eola, my blonde-haired steward, was in the process of stuffing disembodied arms into cupboards. She jumped and looked up when the door creaked, but relaxed when it was just me. "I was cooking dinner," she whispered, "when I heard a knock on the door. Cosnach said he had it, and when I heard the voices, I decided we probably don't want strangers knowing any of… this." She motioned to the bloody countertops.
I nodded. "We need something nice, something family friendly… vegetable soup? Oh, wait, shit." I slapped my forehead.
"What?"
"I left Llydia's body in the cellar!"
"What did you do that for, Cosnach might see!"
"No, he never goes down there. She's just, you know, down there if I ever need a snack. And plus, I couldn't figure out how to pick her up and haul her out of the house, or even out of the cellar, so…"
"You've just had her rotting? At least cook her or make her into jerky so she keeps well. Here, I'll go down there, chop her up, and put her on the smithy. Sound good?"
"Constance will smell it, we can't. There might be skeevers down there, too."
"I'm sure that's completely unrelated."
"Just—I don't know, cube her and put her in the safes. I promise I won't forget about her again."
Eola put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll take care of it, don't worry. You just go over there and make sure she doesn't see anything too crazy." She hid the last arm in a drawer and left the kitchen. The countertop was a bloody mess. But at least beef could have plausibly left that behind. I followed Eola out of the room. Cosnach had predictably not followed up with Constance, because he was still sitting at the main table while she had gone to the trophy room. She couldn't find a bunch of stuffed enemies objectionable, could she? Oh, who knew at this point.
A/N: Oddly enough, Eola and Constance aren't listed as Elder Scrolls characters. As always, rates and review are appreciated.