Fourth Tale: Family
Second Era, year unknown: Existing records mention an unnamed Akaviri Potentate visiting a mysterious manor along with his personal gaurd outside of present day Anvil. Whatever transpired there is unknown, and the manor vanished shortly after the Potentate's return.
Third Era, Year 40: Empress Kintyra Septim held a grand ball atended by most of the noble class of the Empire. An unknown Altmari girl and her human companion were seen speaking to the Empress, who went as far as to express affection for her later.
Third Era, Year 125: Members of the Knights of the Nine cross paths with an Altmari girl in the company of several Daedra on the eastern coast of High Rock. Suspecting her to be a Deadra worshiper the senior Knight attempts an arrest. The Knights were reppeled by Deadric forces after suffering heavy losses, the girl having vanished.
-Recorded instances of the "Unnamed Girl"-
The Manor was alive with the sounds of conversation and music. The courtyard and much of the manor itself was filled with an assortment of Daedra and mortals all eating, drinking, talking or listening to the trio of harpists who had been commisioned for the party. It was one of the few times in history one could find mortals peacefully sharing space with Dremora, Aurorans, Xivila and other such denizens of Oblivion.
Urzkar watched the crowd with open distaste, flexing his mace hand with a growl when a passing human met his glare. His post outside of the young Mistress' room was far enough away from the general crowd that he could almost ignore the stench of potential enemies if he tried. It had taken a long time to dull the blood rage he felt when seeing mortals, and his current duty did nothing to sooth it.
"Relax Dremora," Darcy chided from the other side of the doorway. "I'm sure you will get the chance to take out some agression on one of the more overzealous soon enough," Her smile was frightening to most humans. It just annoyed Urzkar.
"Perhaps," Was all he decided to say. He was often forced to spend time with the Golden Saint, who shared in security duty for the manor and its owner. That didn't mean he had to enjoy it, or that he couldn't hate the smuge woman. Darcy nodded at a Dunmer across the hall, trying and failing to charm a Mazken.
"Blow to the gut to throw off balance, then slash the neck..." Urzkar grunted a chuckle.
"No, a shield rush then stomp to the skull. Dead before the fight begins," He countered. It was something of a game they had developed over many hours forced to watch mortal visitors under orders not to harm them. They may come from different worlds, but both of them enjoyed the mental stretch of it.
"Small gap in the plates along the crotch," She came back, this time looking at an Auroran in full armor who was currently trading stories with several mortals. "Get in quick and sever the femoral artery, bleed out shortly.:
"Smash to the shoulder plate, then solid hit on the helm. Fold it like paper..."
-( )-
"It's too big!" Nessa whined. "And I can't move my legs much,"
"Your uncles went to a good deal of trouble arranging your birthday party, the least you could do is dress for the occasion," Haskill told her. The young mistress was currently battling with her ball gown's many frills on the floor, trying to see her feet no doubt.
"Ok fine," She muttered, managing to locate her slippered feet at last.
"Now do get up, you'll ruin the lace." She huffed but did stand, her face a mask of both childish misery and bubbly excitement.
"You said they're all here right?" She asked again while he went about fastening and prepping the dress.
"Yes mistress all of your uncles and aunts are here as promised." She jumped happily and almost lost her footing to the folds of the dress before righting herself. "Are we ready then? They are waiting for you." Nessa nodded, using her best "adult" face.
"Ready!" She chirped. Haskill gave the door a tap and after a moment Darcy opened it and took her place at Nessa's side with Urzkar and Haskill.
Then they left the room and joined the party.
-( )-
After making her way around the manor and talking to numerous guests (all of whom had been warned by their respective lords to be polite) Nessa had been called to the dinning hall to join her uncles for a meal.
"Come on girly," Sheogorath had laughed from within. "You'll miss the cake, it's a talking cake!" They had shut the door behind her, leaving Haskill to watch the party and try to keep the place clean. He was sending servents to collect a drunken Redgaurd when one of the guests took notice of him and walked up.
"You are one of the girl's gaurdians are you not?" The Altmer was nearly a head taller than Haskill, dressed for the party in golden cloth.
"I am," Haskill returned wearily. He often found mortals to be a bothersome lot, the years attending to his young mistresss' guests had only made it all the more so.
"I am King Umaril of the Ayleid," He said, offering a hand in what he no doubt thought an unprecedented honor. Haskill shook it and withheld his grimace. A powerfull and important bother, this one.
"Haskill," He returned formaly.
"This girl," Umaril was looking at the door to the dinning room. "My Lady Meridia called her her niece when she brought me here to this gathering," Here it comes, he thought. "How can such a thing be true?"
"My young mistress is indeed family to each of the Princes," An explanation he had gone over more times than he had bothered to count. "She was made kin to them as a baby and left to the care of myself and others untill such time as she is grown."
"But how does such a thing happen? And to a mortal child?" Umaril was quickly reaching taboo ground. While the Princes of Oblivion made no secret (in fact were required not to make it such) of their connection to the girl, the events that led to it were not known by any outside of a select few of the house staff and the Princes themselves.
"If you are curious I would recommend asking Meridia yourself, I am sure she would welcome it..." The King scowled at Haskill and shortly left to speak to someone less... like Haskill.
Probably for the best.
-( )-
Nessa had been enjoying the night more than any she could remember, which was understandable at the age of twelve. Her Uncles and Aunts each visited her several times a year but it was only on her birthday that they gathered together and those were the times she liked best. And whether or not they had even noticed, each of them had at one point or another smiled at the little girl.
Early in the meal Nocturnal had painted the vaulted ceiling of the room in shifting shadow pictures, making out the shapes of Nessa's favorite stories. She could see the winged dragons, the beautiful maidens, and brave warriors acting out the tales in little segments. It made her whoop with glee.
After that Hircine (no doubt trying to upstage Nocturnal) had turned a pair of forks into a troll and a tiger no bigger than her fingers. The tiny pair chased each other about the table, weaving between plates and bowls untill finally Peryite set his chalice down on the troll with a wet squish. The others were dead still in a moment of shock, Nessa's eyes wide with it. Then Sanguine reached across the table to popped the little tiger into his mouth with a belch. The table burst with laughter at the sight and Nessa marched over to pinch them both on the arms with clearly false indignation.
When Desert came Clavicus Vile asked Mehrunes Dagon to tell them of his latest attempt at taking Nirn, which was met with a glare and a thrown sweet roll. Sheogorath was halfway through a story about a mortal singer when he forgot what he was talking about and began to whistle instead. The Shadows on the ceiling eventually bled away and were replaced by Meridia's dancing lights, which told no stories but were pretty and hard to look away from. And the Lords spoke to one another as they rarily did, sometimes explaining to Nessa or letting her break in a question.
But eventually the meal came to an end, when it became clear Nessa's poor stomach could take no more cake. One of the Princes went to the door and called in Haskill, who took his place beside Nessa calmly. They gathered in a rough line and Nessa hugged each of them before they left. Some groaned and some smiled, but none stopped her.
The Manor was beginning to empty out by the time Haskill left the dinning room with the mistress sleeping in his arms. Urzkar and Darcy were still in the main hall talking, holding cups of what was most likely blood. Haskill passed by unnoticed and deposited Nessa in her bed. She was still smiling in her sleep when Haskill tucked her in and left.
It wasn't untill he had closed the door to her room that Haskill allowed himself a small smile of his own.
"My daughter, my sweet Nessa... That I will never again hold you is my one regret in all of this. I do this not for the world or the people, but for you, in hope that you will know happiness. That the Princes of Oblivion were willing to agree to my terms makes the magnitude of the danger both to them and the world clear. I walk now both to my own doom and the salvation of the Princes... your new family."
-Final page of an unread journal, within Misthaven Manor's Vault-
Writer's note: Only a couple of the diconnected tales remain, then on to the tale proper. The nature of Nessa's connection to the Daedric Lords will be elaborated apon as well as the events surrounding the pact that led to it. For now I will simply thank you again for sticking with me...