Disclaimor: I do not own Skyrim .
WARNING: There are SPOILERS!
Dragonsreach keep was once again closed. The most trusted councilors and officers in Jarl Balgruuf service were discussing the developments concerning the civil war they found themselves in the middle of. Unseen by most a hooded man enters and approaches the conguration.
"Greetings! You wouldn't have a spare set of socks would you? My ears are freezing!"
The dark elf housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf, who upon sight of the strangely dressed robed man entering the hall, draws her sword. She stood before her Jarl much like she's done countless times before. She was attending her duty.
"Halt Stranger! I don't know how you made it past the guards but I suggest you go right back past them." Judging by this greeting he was obviously not in his right mind. She hand no qualms in sending the lunatic on his way even without finding out his business. She made a mental note to demote the guards who were on duty.
"No no, I forgot something. It had something to do with destroying rocks with paper, I think." the man says completely undisturbed by the sword for his throat. "It's what makes politicians so dangerous you know!"
"This is your last warning stranger..." the housecarl snarls.
"What an amusing Madman. Let him approach Irileth. I wouldn't mind an amusing riddle to rest from this endless debate. I knew a madman once who entire life was nothing but a riddle, perhaps this one is the same?"
The guards near the Jarl draw their blades and hold them in a unthreatening manner but stand their ground next to the Jarl ready to attack at the smallest hint of a threat.
"Now Madman, might I have the pleasure of your name? Or do you even remember it?"
"Madman...NO.. that isn't right! Definitely not true. Well the mad is but the man.. no... Man isn't right... it's doubly wrong too... what was it again? Lizard? I can't recall... I always have problems remembering when one of my personalities is rebelling..."
The Jarl looks into the hood and snorts in amusement "Not a lizard no. I have to agree that you're a victim of Shorgorath however."
The little bit of face that showed under the hood suddenly lights up, "That's it! A Shorgorath! Or was it a giraffe? These things get so confusing sometimes."
At the exclaim of being Shorgorath the Jarl looked upon the madman in a lot less favor. There were many things the Jarl would tolerate from an obviously unfortunate man but to claim to be a Deadric Prince was asking for trouble for all those involved. "I am no longer amused madman. You have used up your short welcome. If some part of you have some sanity I would suggest to that part of you to never utter such a thing within my domain again. We do not want any dark gifts from any deadra prince you will eventually offend."
The Madman however was not perturbed, "Gifts? Oh yes!" The hooded figure rocks back on his heals for a moment "I almost forgot! You helped me! Would have taken forever to remember... and I'm suppose to give things to unfortunate people!" Snapping his fingers the hall was suddenly filled with an unearthly racket. Animals from the smallest rabbit to a rather fat bear, were suddenly hogtied and hanging from the ceiling of the Hall. Oddly enough there was also a naked female Argonian. She was the only one who wasn't roaring or squeaking in terror. She actually looked rather bored.
Irileth and the two guards who were previously preparing to throw the obvious lunatic out of the hall quickly looked back towards the Jarl for direction. The man however was looking up towards what seemed to be a squirrel wrapped extra tightly in what seemed to be a sheet of mold covered cheese.
"My Jarl!" Irileth shouts over the racket at the seated man, trying to draw his attention.
"What did you say?" The MadGod says, "I can't hear a thing..." snapping his fingers again the animals roars were suddenly silent. They were still alive roaring, squeaking etc. etc. but they weren't emitting a sound. "That's better what were you saying dear?"
Realizing what they were dealing with Jarl Balgruuf stands up to face the Madgod. He may not have much experience in dealing with people or beings of higher station (daedric princes had powers that could rival the divines after all and this one tended to take offense at the oddest of things) but he had enough people prostrate themselves before him in his lifetime to know how to speak diplomatically.
"May I know what you wish of us, Lord Shorgorath?" remembering his lessons on daedra, (specifically the lesson on this one) from when he was a boy he quickly suggests, "I believe the Kitchen has a wide variety of cheeses in stock at the moment, If you wish I am certain I can have the cook gather the wheels for you. Or if you rather I can have my steward acquire some yarn for your pleasure?"
The madgod stops grinning mindlessly at the Jarl's youngest child that was shifting uneasily in a nearby chair to turn and blink at the man in surprise. "Cheese?!"
"Yes, you may consider all the cheese in my keep as a" he clears his throat" ummm offering." the Jarl says quickly trying to appease the Madgod.
Shorgorath seems to consider it for a moment, "... cheese... cheese... no that was most definitely not why I was here... but it's CHEESE!" he continues to mumble to himself.
Irileth steps forward and a little in front of her Jarl in an attempt to divert the man-god's attention asks, "Perhaps you should tell us what you came here for sir. I'm certain a deal can be made to appease both parties. What were you here for originally?"
The god reaches up and scratches his head. The movement causes the hood of his robe to fall backwards to reveal short wild black hair, "Good question... One of my personalities insisted! After the messenger arrived during my vacation of all times! So rude!"
Latching onto that piece of information the housecarl quickly asks, "And might we ask where this messenger is or what the message was?"
The deceptively Breton looking God peers at the darkelf in delight, "Of course you can. Whether I answer is a whole different matter. But it would be very boring of you... so here!" he snaps his fingers and out of nowhere stood the dragonborn's housecarl.
No one had expected this, they especially didn't expect to see the dragonborn's callous covered, rough around the edges housecarl to be in a very short laced baby blue dress, her hair up in pigtails, glaring at the God.
"Puny Mortal! We meet again!" Lydia stood as stiff as a pillar and with all the regaliness of a queen in spite of her attire. She was glaring down her nose at him in a way that spoke volumes. She wasn't calm and collected which was her norm but instead looked ready to murder the god, "You had a message! I seem to have forgotten it. Please repeat... Mortal Linda was it?"
"My name is Lydia...Ly-d-ia!" it was clear that this was not the first nor second time the god made this specific mistake.
"Yes yes Mortal Linda... repeat... message!" Sheogorath waves dismissively.
It looked like Lydia wanted to do anything but answer the unstable god but she reluctantly does, "There was no message. I was ordered to retrieve you. My Thane neglected to mention whom I was retrieving only how to do so." the female warrior looked highly annoyed by this obvious oversight.
A wave of dawning understanding races across the daedra's face at this, "Yes! That's why I didn't remember a message. There wasn't one! RUDE!"
At the shouted word one of the mudcrabs hanging from the ceiling instantly bursts into a shower of septims.
Ignoring the falling gold coins Sheogorath looks upon Lydia with confusion once again, "I wouldn't end my vacation for any reason. Well obviously some reason but not a stupid mortal one. What was it again, Mortal Linda?"
"Lord Sheogorath, with all due respect.." it was obvious that she didn't feel any respect for the being before her, "you know very well why you came here. You're a lunatic not an idiot."
"You're looking for Thane Thorum Marson?" The Jarl pipes up and looks over at his housecarl, "Isn't he in the dungeon right now?"
Irileth sighs deeply completely annoyed, "Yes drunk and disorderly. He picked a fight with an orphaned child in the street, claimed she was a daedra in disguise and that she started it. He was also muttering something about Sanguine and some wine."
"Marson... marson... sounds strangely familiar... Mar- son... Martin's Son!" Sheogorath repeats to himselves before shouting the last, "That's why she insisted!"
"What in Oblivion are you talking about?" the Jarl asks. He seems unable to resist asking.
"...Oblivion..." he says quietly the tiny hairs on the back of all those present suddenly lifted in alarm. There was a note in his voice that they could not put a finger too but they knew it wasn't good. "OBLIVION!" he repeats at a much louder volume but this time full of rage. "What does that have to do with this? No no no not that again! I'm not doing that again!" Sheogorath grabs his hair with both hands and starts yanking the strands, scrunching up his face. He stops after a moment and begins to talk in a high female voice mockingly, the word 'Oblivion' seemed to be one of his trigger words, "... 'oh we can't help you with our people in danger! You have to go into oblivion and kill countless daedra that even an army couldn't defeat before we lift our tiny finger!' It was COMPLETELY MAD I TELL YOU! Do I do it? YES! I got really good at chopping heads off so good that I decided to take it up as a hobby later on. But when I'm doing it for fun it's all '...oh please spare us...' 'No! Not my baby' and 'What are you doing with that pumpkin!?' Do I do it once or twice? NOOO... I had to do it nine times! Do you realize how boring killing Daedra soldiers are?! They just keep coming back again and again and again... and again... Mortals are so much better... you kill them and they have the decency to stay dead... err most times.." he adds the last couple of words sheepishly.
Sheogorath looks up at the unfortunate Jarl who some time during the earlier conversation sat back down, "NO you don't understand! You're in the same stupid type of chair as them too!"
The Jarl stood back up out of the chair as if it burned him, he desperately tries to change the subject, It was one thing to fall in battle it was a whole other thing to be 'blessed' by this particular daedra,"Lord Sheogorath you mentioned someone insisted you come here? Would you allow us to speak to her perhaps. There really isn't any reason for someone of your stature to bother with someone else's dealings."
A guard quickly walks in and to the side of the Jarl's house carl and whispers something in her ear. She frantically motions him to go ahead.
Shorgorath goes from enraged to gleeful in a blink of an eye, he taps his bottom lip and considers what the Jarl said, "Humm I don't remember who... Mortal Linda" he calls and then looking at her pointedly, "Why did you insist that I'd come here."
"I didn't." she states with a sneer, "I was ordered to retrieve you from your vacation, nothing more. You said one of your personalities insisted."
"Grandmum!" a couple of guards walk into the hall. They were flanking a bound Thorum Marson, Thane of Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf was once again reminded of his first impression of the Imperial Dragonborn. The man hadn't changed in looks a bit... he was the definition of a milk drinker if he ever saw one.
"My little Limburger!" the madgod calls out gleefully a flash of fire encompasses the madgod for a moment only for him to be replace with a woman, the picture of an affectionate grandmother, complete with knitting needles in her hair and apron on her waist. She grins in glee at the binds on his wrists, "Ohhh... girlfriend or prison?"
"Both of course!" he boasts a similar grin on his face. Those in the hall could see the family resemblance now, "I accidentally turned her into a sword but she's a lot more communcative since I first met her! She keeps on trying to stab people, especially me!"
"Oh she sounds lovely... So how High is your bounty?" she asks conversationally.
"2,000 gold" he replies reluctantly.
"What! So low! When I was mortal I had a bounty of over 100,000 pieces of gold on my head. You young man have been slacking!" she says a stern note in her voice pointing at him with her bony index finger. It was exactly in the same way a mother would scold a child when they neglected to do their chores.
"No no no Gran. That's only here in Whiterun. It's over 20,000 in Solitude, honest!"
"Well... you just started out, I suppose." she points at him and sternly adds "I expect you to do better in the future young man!"
"Of coarse Gran. You're the best. Wouldn't want to disappoint." he pauses and gives her a slightly sheepish look, "You wouldn't have any gold I could borrow, would you?"
At this a throat clears, till this point everyone within the hall was deathly silent during the exchange, "There's no need for that Thane Thorum, you can go with a warning this time, I suppose." The Jarl says eager to get the madgod out of his city.
"Oh so kind." the god turned Grandmother says as she turns to her apparent grandson, "You heard the man. Go out make merry.. kill a butterfly or better yet kick a chicken!"
"Alright" he says happily turning to his house carl, "You heard the lady lets head out Lydia! Oh, by the way, nice outfit!" The doors of Dragonsreach closes behind the two just as a growl of anger leaves the housecarl's throat.
The kindly grandmother of the Dragonborn disappears in another flash of fire and the madgod is once again male. He looks around the room in confusion. "Now what was I doing here again..."
Everyone in the room holds their collective breath not daring to say a word watching and waiting for the god to make his next move. Hoping and praying for him to leave.
"Oh yes that must be it... this place is so boring... and quiet! You need some entertainment!" he finishes Happily. "I know just the person for the job, I've been training him for years!"
Before anyone could protest he snaps his fingers and out of a flash of fire a Jester complete with belled hat and curled shoes, appears in the middle of the hall.
"Oh what has happened! Cicero was tending mother... what have you done with her! Cicero demands you tell him." the Jester rants in confusion at his sudden appearance.
The madgod chuckles at this and places his hand on the Jester's shoulder and begins talking into his ear "Cicero... Oh my dear Cicero... do you hear me?" the god's voice comes out motherly but ominous. The jester, Cicero, didn't seem to notice the hand on his shoulder nor the fact that someone was standing directly next to him.
"MOTHER is that YOU!" His hands goes to his head, his eyes wide as can be, "You SPEAK to POOR CICERO! CICERO is now WORTHY of listening to your VOICE! Where are you Mother!" The man seemed completely flabbergasted. "What can poor poor Cicero do for mother..." he says bending down on his knees waiting for the voice again.
"Look at the people around you Cicero," the mad god continues in the woman's voice, "Are they not quiet? Don't you hate the quiet... the unbroken..endless quiet... my ... poor... Cicero..."
"YES!... You never TALKED to ME... I did everything! EVERYTHING to get you to TALK to poor Cicero... you never did... I hated you mother Why did you not SPEAK!" the Jester was looking more and more unbalanced as he talked to the unseen god.
"It doesn't matter anymore my poor Cicero... I'm talking to you now..." Sheogorath chuckles darkly placing a hand on the jester's cheek.
"Yes your right... of course your right, you're MOTHER! What can poor Cicero do for you mother?" the Jester's eyes are completely worshipful towards his unseen 'mother'.
"Make the quiet go away Cicero... make it stop... make them SCREAM with your special kind of glee." The madgod finishes, releases the shoulder of the Merriman and puts a pair of long knives in the Jesters hands.
"YES MOTHER!' the Jester shouts happily a mad glint in his eyes as he moves into his Merry dance of death.
END
Author's Note: I started this because I wanted to do something with the hero of Kvatch thing and Martin having a kid and the storyline of Skyrim... It just kept evolving and evolving till it wasn't at all like how I origionally wanted it. Didn't even plan to put Cicero into the mix... This amused me though... hope you enjoyed!