Full summary: Being the Dragonborn, the leader of the Thieves' Guild, and the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood all amount to a certain amount of stress, no matter how much you enjoy debauchery and murder. So naturally, a few drunken nights would be a normal occurance. Unless of course, you happen to meet the Deadric Prince of Debauchery, who then invites you to a drinking game, after which you proceed to get married! To a daedra, specifically, the Dremora sworn to serve you. That might just cause a bit more stress than normal. Oh, but you're an assassin! Why not just take care of the problem? Oh, that's right. He can't die. Well, too bad for you.
I don't know, I wanted to. Apologies to my lovely fans waiting for my Warcraft stories. I'm awful, I know, but I had to. Consider it cleansing.
M for: future violence, gore, cursing, killing, drinking, nudity, sexual situations, the works. Only slightly AU concerning some elements, and spoilers for the Main Quest line, the Thieves' Guild story line, and the Dark Brotherhood story line. You've been warned. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I enjoyed pain. I enjoyed danger. I enjoyed the high of adrenaline caused by risk and rapture. I enjoyed power, and knowing I held it over someone. All these things and more I very much enjoyed. Immensely so. It was generally as simple as that.
These things were perceived as wrong, or evil, or what have you. I had little problem with this. My people weren't well liked outside of Morrowind anyways. Why not play it up?
So I had no problem with involving myself with the dark, the demented, the damned, and the daring. But things change. Responsibilities forced upon you have a way of doing that.
Discovering you're the Dragonborn after being saved from the chopping block by a resurrected dragon bent on destroying the world, for example. That can change your perspective quite a bit. Though, I think I've done a fair job of staying consistent in my fun, beautifully bloody, underhanded, no-good lifestyle, all things considered.
Obviously, one wouldn't expect the gods to birth a murderer and a thief as the would-be savior of the entire damned world. But it was so. And, despite myself, I found myself going along with it: Fleeing to Riverwood, then Whiterun. Aiding that fool of a Jarl in defending his squabbling little hold from a dragon. Killing said dragon, absorbing its soul, and Shouting, in the dragon-tongue. Heading the call of those ancient, cynical old monks up in those blasted mountains. Learning what I am, who Alduin—Sithis take him—was, what his and my intertwined destinies were; and learning only I could stop him.
Again, one wouldn't expect a murderer and a thief—I truly cannot stress that enough—to follow through and start a journey to save the world. But what can I say? No world means no one to kill, no one to swindle. No more gold or jewels or blood or screams. No more of that rush. So, selfish? Undoubtedly. Perfectly. But was I going to let some had-been flying reptile take away what was mine to do with as I pleased? By Sithis and Nocturnal, no!
So that was the start of things. And it only got more complicated. But also much more amusing.
I joined the Dark Brotherhood. I joined the Thieves' Guild. I became the sort-of leaders of both.
I turned into a vampire. My power increased—though sunlight became a bit of a chore, even though night had always been my domain, considering my line of work, and pleasure. For this reason, I also joined the Mages' Collage; they may be a den of weaklings and ninnies buried in dusty tomes and disgusting chemicals, but were they ever an opportune food source.
I helped—ugh—that stuck-up old Blade woman, and the paranoid old man too, and began to unlock and embrace my abilities and destiny as the Dragonborn.
Now, entertaining, exhilarating, and weighty as that all sounds, and is, I think any sane man would agree I'd be entitled to a night of drink every now and then.
Well, damn me for it. Because meeting "Sam Guevenne" was possibly the worst thing that has every happened to me. And accepting his challenge to a drinking contest damn well the stupidest.
Why, you ask? After all, I did get the meet Lord Sanguine after all was said and done, and was gifted with his staff, something extremely precious and useful.
Well because, you absolute fool! That awful night involved a wedding. And that damned merchant woman was right about it too. I did have a "bride"—groom, as it were—and I did get married. And no, it was not dear "Sammy".
My husband—husband!—is a daedra. The same one the Rose summons. Except that he tends to come out whenever he pleases. And he's an absolute twit! A Milk-drinker! A Snow-back! Troll bait! Nothing but a cocky, blasted bastard!
And worst of all, I can't kill him. I've tried. And succeeded. A hundred times now; it's my art! And yet he doesn't stay dead! He dies, and fades away, and then just poofs on back, saying things like "'That actually tickled'". The utter gall! He makes a mockery of my skills! I've killed thousands of people! I killed the emperor, for ancestor's sake! But I can't kill my blasted "husband"! The man is ruining me!
I hate him. I hate him in every way. I want him dead—so very badly—and I will see him dead. And he hates me as well, but he's sworn by his masters to me, so there's not much he can do about it.
So let's really think about this: My name is Sereosa. I am a Dunmer. I am a vampire. I am the Listener of the Black Hand and the Night Mother, a master assassin, and child of Sithis. I am leader of the Thieves' Guild, and one of three Nightingales, servant of Nocturnal. I am the Dovahkin, the Dragonborn, savior of the world.
And, I am not only loathe the man I've married, but this "man" happens to be a Daedra, specifically a Dremora Markynaz, or so he says. He hates me. I hate him. I wish to kill him, but am unable to. He wishes me dead, but must protect me with his life.
Among many other things, one must wonder how in the world, with all this being said, I am beginning to care for said man.
Now, with all this going on, if not for what happened last time I'd gotten drunk, I think I'd be off somewhere at the bottom of a very deep barrel by now.
