"Don't move."

"You really, really, don't want to do that," Gideon warned her calmly, freezing where he stood as the sharp prick of the dagger lay cold against his back, right over his kidney. A mental picture of the dead Imperial flashed across his mind, which was certainly not what he needed.

"What, stab you?" the Bosmer asked, voice full of mirth. "Of course not! You're far too interesting. I will though, if I have to," her voice darkened.

"I won't attack you, if that's what you're thinking. I would still get you out of here, if I could find whatever's tying you here. They can't be that good to you, if you're worried they'd...they'd...prostitute you like that. Precisely what loyalty do you owe these jackals?"

There was a long moment of silence before the giggles started. "Oh, you're cute," she said, pressing with the weapon just slightly before removing it. "Turn around, let me get a look at you."

"Still married." Gideon really wished he had better impulse control, but turned around, hands out where she could see them. She didn't need to know he could still FUS RO DAH her down the hall.

"Didn't ask," she replied, tossing her hair as she looked him over with naked appreciation, hovering a moment to take in every way that his pants were too small before raising her gaze back to his eyes. "So, what did you do with my mark?"

"Sent him to those friends I mentioned." Gideon grinned, "We already knew about the breeding program. Figured if we could get the kids out safely, the parents would be easier to rescue. I'm betting you're one of the kids."

The girl's face closed, eyes darkening. "You don't know anything," she informed him, then her smile returned, twice as wicked. "But that's going to be half your fun, I think."

"Then explain it to me. These men have been here suffering long enough, and like I said, you shouldn't be anyone's broodmare."

"I'm not," she shrugged one shoulder, not taking her eyes off him. "If I sleep with someone, it's because I want to." Her grin widened slightly, emerald flecks twinkling in her eyes. "Want to?"

::Well, she's certainly forward, isn't she?:: Rommy asked, sounding torn between amused and disturbed.

"Does the concept 'happily married' not exist in your world?" Gideon gave her a rather sad look.

"Um, no," she pursed her lips. "Anyway...I suppose we're at an impasse here. You have my mark. I could just kill you, but you'd still have my mark, and you don't get your rations if you don't emerge...also with my mark."

::You could completely ruin her day by dropping a cabbage Dunmer on her,:: Gideon suggested to Rommy.

::Gideon, why hasn't she tried to kill you?:: Rommy asked, sounding puzzled. ::A horse thief isn't nearly as important as someone out to start a coup. You've admitted you're part of a force to take down the Thalmor, but she hasn't reacted to that. She hasn't asked anything more of it, or your offer to get her out. So what is she still doing here?::

::Very good question, but how do I get an honest answer out of her?::

::She might just be perverse enough to give you one if you ask,:: he noted.

"What do you want, really?" Gideon tried.

"I want to be on my assigned mission and not hunting down a horse thief that got poofed to Sithis' backside or where-ever," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "And since I am apparently not going to get to climb the Nord Tree, I want to go get some lunch."

"What's your assignment?" Gideon shrugged. "Depending on what it is, and how long until you're willing to give up your anchor focus, I might help."

"Ha!" she crowed. "You really are cute. Dumb, but cute. Alright, I'll tell you. Not like anyone's around to listen anymore, anyway." Tilting her head slightly, she told him, "I'm supposed to be in the Legion right now. Climbing through the ranks with my superior whatever it is they're looking for. I'm adaptable and they're disorganized. Unfortunately," she glanced down and flicked at one rather large breast, "these developed. So I don't look quite as 'Bosmer' as intended, and suddenly there's talk of courtesan training and I really, really hate politics. Give me straightforward soldiers to manipulate any day," she finished, rolling her eyes.

Gideon rolled his own eyes. "Do you want the Thalmor for masters, or would you like a chance to be your own master?"

"Hey, whatever you think of the Thalmor, at least they give me interesting things to do. I have a purpose, and it's usually an entertaining purpose," she shrugged again, leaning against the wall.

"You do realize their overall purpose is to undo creation, right? Precisely where in there is a happily ever after for you? I also can't believe you just admitted the Thalmor are smarter than you."

"There are a lot of people smarter than me. I'm hardly the be-all, end-all of the universe. As for happy endings, there aren't any," she replied promptly. "There never was and there never will be. I'm a Young One. We don't get 'happy endings.' I don't even have a Name. You think the gods are going to take someone that doesn't even qualify for a Name?"

"And you call me dumb?" Gideon gave her a look. "Firstly, you can give yourself a name if you want one, and no binty crow can take it from you. If it means more to you if it comes from someone else, I'll give you a name. Secondly—and this I know for a solid fact—the gods care about who you are, not what you're named." Gideon smiled. "And that's from someone who's talked to a few, and had them talk back."

Her lips twitched. "'Binty crow?'" she echoed, laughing. "Look, sweetheart, I know you're insane, and you've got a chivalrous streak—and shoulders—about as wide as the Imperial Highway, but please."

::Rommy? Help me out here?:: Gideon considered her.

::What do you want me to do? Impersonate Auriel?::

::You do remember you count in the godly department, right?::

::Dae-dra. I could turn her inside out if you wanted. My powers aren't nice, remember?::

::They can be when you want them to be. Are butterflies suddenly beyond you?::

::I'm not in the butterfly mood right now. What you're most likely to end up with is blood-sucking moths. Either way, there are mages who can do the exact same thing,:: Rommy told him. ::Besides, I'm not sure you want to push this one any more off-balance than you already have.::

The assassin was looking at him quizzically. "Did I accidently break you when I revealed you're mad? Ooh, hey; did you forget you're married yet?"

"Oh, I already knew that. Kinda have to be to join Shor's Orders." He gently tapped her nose, which she allowed with a vaguely puzzled air. "And you haven't answered me: what would convince you?" He let himself slide down the wall, taking a seat on the floor, gesturing to the wall across from him. "Have a sit, it's not like there's a time limit, is there?"

The look she gave him most women would reserve for new puppies. "Oh! You're so trusting!" she gushed. "Please, if you ever divorce, look me up. You're too cute."

"You remind me of someone, if a little more, er, cutthroat. Maybe there is a bit of Bosmer in her family tree afterall." Gideon smiled at her. "And you're dodging the question as well as she ever does. Have a sit, talk to me. Tell me all the stuff that makes me stupid in this situation."

Laughing, she moved to the other wall, "Okay, sugar, I'll play." Crouching on the balls of her feet, she regarded him for a long moment. "First off, you didn't kill me the moment you saw me. As you can see, appearances are deceiving. Secondly, you have this kind of down-honest farmboy thing going on? Either get rid of that or use it, because people are going to underestimate you. I'd recommend using it. Also, you show your cards way too early, and maybe all of them. And you might be a little crazy. That part can be an asset, especially since it got me not to kill you. Well, that and getting a good look at your butt in those lovely, snug pants."

::Sure she's not Sanguine's?::

::She might just be,:: Rommy's reply was a little stunned. ::It's like listening to Evil Telki.::

::Noticed that too, did you? I'm hoping it's environmental, and can be remedied with time. Also, she's cocky as hell.::

::I'm in your head, Gideon. You can't tell me you don't like that part.::

::When did I say I didn't like it? I'm smug, is all. I'm allowed this once. But those two cannot meet. Ever.::

::Do you want me to write you up a permission slip?:: he laughed.

"Now," she said, eyes hardening slightly until they were the color of crushed moss, "Who are you working with that is so eager to get the mangy prisoners off Alinor?"

Gideon looked at her. "They have families left behind that didn't know they were still alive. What else?"

"Oh. Families. That just clears up everything," she rolled her eyes. "Well, this just got boring."

"I'm pretty sure you're still curious how I poofed the Dunmer out of here." Gideon reminded her. "I'm not dead yet." He gave her a twinkling half smile. "While I haven't lied, do you think by a long shot I've told you everything?"

A slight flush might have crossed her cheeks, but it could also have been the wind in the trees outside shifting their shadows. "Well, I suppose…" she drawled, fiddling with a dagger that hadn't been in her hand the second before, and had also not been evident on her person. "Better than you putting me to sleep with how much somebody's family misses them."

"Do you even know what 'family' means, and I don't mean Falofifi's poor excuse for the word," Gideon asked. "Because family is the furthest thing from boring I've ever experienced, and I've fought both daedra and dragons."

Before he could blink, Gideon abruptly had a lap full of angry Bosmer, with that dagger pressed against his throat and her hand in his hair, wrenching his head back. Her eyes glared into his from inches away. "Do not talk about my grandfather like that," she said with eerie calm.

"Your grandfather? Really? Things just got more interesting." ::And I'll ride the dragon that stomps a mudhole in him myself for what he's made of you.:: "Especially since you are the one that called family 'boring'. I assumed you hadn't had the pleasure."

"Oh, I've had lots of pleasures," she informed him, back to her earlier cheerful demeanor. Her eyes still burned. "It's only lately things have gotten a little complicated, but I'll still be off to the Legion within a year. I'll be a bit sad to leave you, sugar, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Gideon rolled his eyes. ::She means to use me to bargain her way back into the Legion plan.::

::I don't know, Gideon. I think...I think she hates Faloniril. She's fishing for something else.:: Rommy sounded hesitant, like he wasn't completely sure of this. Looking through Gideon's eyes made it much more difficult to read her motivations, and that, frankly, was making him nervous.

"I can't help you until you tell me exactly what it is you want. You know I can transport people not held down by a blood focus. So if it's that, we should be discussing what you have that's the focus. If it's someone else here you need out, well, join the club, because that's pretty much what we're after: Getting the hostages and prisoners out." Gideon had an idea spark. ::The Grandmother? Could she be what he's holding over her head? And how do I reassure her without getting my throat cut?::

::That's easy,:: Rommy actually chuckled. ::Promise her leaving you alive would be more interesting. Probably wouldn't hurt to flirt a little, either.::

::How does flirting work again? No, I mean, how do I assure this one her Grandmother will be safe, without her hearing a threat?::

::Um...maybe don't mention specific people? If we don't know who they are until she chooses to trust us, then she'll know we're not targeting them. As for flirting...she's high maintenance. You're on your own there.:: There was the sensation of a shiver. ::It'd be like flirting with the Duchess.::

::The more I hear, the less I want to know.:: Gideon gave the Bitsy Bosmer his best smile. "It's your turn. What are you willing to share?"

"Doesn't matter, you don't want to play that game," she grumbled, though she did lean into him a little, those "problematic" developments of hers brushing his chest.

He sighed. "Nothing says I can't give you a hug, but the knife has got to go." Almost of its own mind, his hand rubbed soothing circles in her back, like he'd done a thousand times for Telki.

Shoving herself off him like he'd burned her, she leapt to her feet, staring down at him expressionlessly. "I suppose neither of us will be getting what we wanted today," she finally managed.

::That was weird,:: Rommy commented.

::No kidding.:: Gideon kept sitting there. "What bothered you? I don't want to upset you."

"Well, aren't you just a prince charming?" she smiled tightly.

"I've been called worse, usually lemming-in-a-can."

"Unsurprising," she quipped, the dagger disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, and just as without a trace. "Anyway, your keepers are raring to get back in here, and Talon's waiting to hear how this went—that'll be fun—so, ta." Turning, she started walking down the hall away from him.

"Oh, Bitsy?" Gideon called after her.

She hesitated, glancing partially over one shoulder. "What?"

"You wanted a name. You're a Bitsy little thing." Gideon twisted his lip. "It's more of a nickname, though. You deserve something prettier, stronger."

She turned away, merely standing there for a second, as if debating something. "I'm called Shell," she said, then seemed to vanish as if she'd never been.

"I'm Gideon Rainier. Pleased to meet you, Shell." Silence was his only reply. ::So, can you modify cabbage body?:: Gideon winced. ::They are not going to ask nicely what happened in here.::

::Incoming.:: Gideon stood up against the wall, looking to see if someone were coming, or if another body was dropping in on him. A cabbage copy of the Dunmer fell where his feet had been, apparently dead with a nasty knock on the skull.

::Don't tell Erandur or Merc, but right now, you're my favorite.::

::Don't tell anyone, ever, but I'm not sure who I feel worse for right now, Merc or you.::

::What's happened to Merc?::

::Same thing that just happened to you; you gained a dangerous admirer. Of course, he wouldn't have that problem if he wasn't playing so hard to get.::

::Sanguine? Or Cabbage Lady?::

::Sam, of course. Cabbage Lady will just stuff him full of soup, and he's being perfectly polite to her.::

::I kinda figure what Sam would try to stuff him, no details, please.::

::You went there, not me.:: There was the sensation of a sigh. ::Though I get the feeling this "Shell" could be just as tenacious. I'm not sure what to tell Telki.::

::Tell her that her future adopted daughter has a crush on the first person to treat her like a person ever.:: Gideon wasn't particularly troubled; it would work itself out once the girl had more decent company.

::Whatever you say, Treenord.::

::Really, you too?::

::What? I don't want to climb you and sit on your branch.:: There was a decidedly more relaxed feel to Rommy's thoughts. Things must have gone well at Passwall.

::Just once, it'd be interesting if someone noticed something besides the height.::

::This one noticed your brains. Though not that you use honesty for manipulation just as well as she does. I don't think she's used to anyone using that tactic but herself, and she was genuinely disgruntled about not being in the Legion by now.:: There was a thoughtful pause. ::Kind of ironic, isn't it? Ulfric hated me because I didn't join the Legion, and he'd hate her for doing so.::

::Considering that she'd be doing it to take it apart for the Thalmor? Yah, that's kind of a dealkiller there, and proves his point all over again,:: Gideon frowned. ::He's using his own family like less than pawns. Did Falofifi turn his own soul over to the Ideal Masters?:: Gideon picked up the cabbage Dunmer and trotted back towards the meeting room. ::I want to ride the dragon that turns him in blood pudding,:: he said.

::That dragon better have room for two,:: Rommy said grimly. ::Nevermind, I'll make sure it has room for all of us.::

::Hey, can you make me the dragon?::

::Great idea. Yes, yes I can.::

Gideon smiled widely, passing a pile of cabbages where the Shell double used to lay. ::Good.::

The Breton was taking the opportunity to nap in peace and quiet. He startled when Gideon came out. "Oh, you caught him. You killed him. Didn't think you wanted to do that," he observed, sounding a bit surprised.

"I didn't get a whole lot of choice in the matter. The Thalmor had about tortured him to madness."

"Yeah, they do that," the Breton replied, standing and dusting himself off. The thinning brown hair on one side of his head was standing on end where it had been rubbed against the wall. "Need healing? You have a scratch on your neck."

"Usually, I'd say it'd be fine, but given the sanitation of the pits...please do," Gideon said gratefully.

The Breton lifted his hand and fixed the cut, giving him an odd look as he did. "Met the assassin, did you? Can't think of anyone else that had access to a poisoned blade."

"The little she-devil." Gideon shook his head. ::Did you know I was poisoned?::

::I'd have known if it was fatal, but I suppose it wasn't bad enough to set off any alarm bells.:: There was a faint undertone of "Telki's going to kill me" to that thought. Gideon sympathized, and sent a mental hug to Rommy. He still winced to remember some of the 'talks' after Mercutio's training bouts that got too carried away.

"She?" the man actually laughed. "Getting to you early, aren't they?"

"I think we were a training exercise." Gideon shook his head. "Or entertainment, or both."

"Probably both. Well, if they're trying that on you already, I suppose they intend to keep you around a while. I'm Tim," he said. "Yes, I know, but I didn't name me, alright?"

"Try growing up as a Nord named Gideon." Gideon laughed. "Gideon Rainier at that." Gideon offered his free hand to shake, the cabbage body still riding one wide shoulder.

Tim shook it, then turned to face the door. "Imperial name, huh? Couldn't have been fun. Back to the pits." He paused, then glanced sideways at Gideon, curious, "Hey, which one was it, anyway? Was it the cute redhead?"

"She was cute; looked Bosmer. Green eyed, and hair sort of autumn colored. How many are there?" Gideon followed the Breton.

"Nobody knows, really. Not too many, though, or half of us that have made it more than a decade would be less lonely." There was a sort of half-jesting tone behind that. "Of course, the charms of a woman that could cut your throat...Eh, no worse than some of the women back in High Rock, I suppose."

"There is a reason Nords have decent manners towards women. Ours would kill us if we didn't." Gideon replied in the same tone, praying nobody was listening, and would run tattle to Telki.

::I'm listening, but not tattling,:: Rommy assured him. ::Are you fine on your own then?::

::Probably? As much as I can be in the pits? I'll holler extra loud if I'm not.::

::Good enough.:: The presence of the Mad God left his mind, as well as the phantom sounds he'd been hearing, and an overwhelming sense of pressure that had been growing so stealthily he'd not be aware of it until it was gone.

.

.

Rommy watched Merc extract himself from Cabbage Lady, whose overwhelming gratitude could be seen in the various leaves sticking from the other Imperial's pockets. Perhaps Sanguine had done the poor man a favor after all: He didn't think Mercutio could have removed the clinging woman so adroitly without all that practice.

"Well, the wall is down, Stanley has apologized, and you've made a new friend," the Mad God said, tossing his white hair out of his face. "A good day, all in all."

"So, how's Gideon?" The less said, the better. He'd thought Sam had roaming hands. He was afraid of just where he'd find cabbage leaves when he bathed tonight.

"I am not going to lie, he's in trouble," Rommy replied.

"Is it trouble he can handle himself, or does he need us?" Mercutio waited until the woman left, and then started carefully vanishing all the cabbage. He didn't want to think what repercussions there'd be if the Lady found them just laying on the ground. Rommy didn't need the extra hassle, and neither did he.

"Uh...That depends," Rommy scratched at his cheek. "How is he with women?"

"Oh sweet Sanguine on a bender."

"He'll hear you," Rommy cautioned. "And from you that's like an invitation to an after-dinner party."

"But it describes just how screwed poor Gideon is." Mercutio winced, "Look, I'm just now coming to terms with being Sam's favorite cuddle pillow. I'm not ready for that, not even the idea thereof."

"Should we tell Telki, or wait until he's dealt with it and let him tell her?" Rommy asked, filing the second part away for further thought, "I honestly have no idea which way is considered correct."

"If he asks for help, that's one thing. If he gets in over his head, as in, wandering body parts, that's another. Otherwise?" Mercutio shrugged. "We do the best we can. Do you think Telki needs to know right now?"

"Considering the woman in question is a Thalmor assassin, I am completely unsure."

"How does Gideon do this to himself? It's like a demipower." Mercutio ran a hand through his hair, mussing it to perfection. He was torn between worry and hilarity over Gideon's new admirer.

"I...choose not to answer that," the Daedra replied, turning and leading the way back to New Sheoth. Nothing dared attack him in his own realm, and it was a nice enough day. It had only rained frogs once, and that was when he'd seen the dead man and thought he'd have to pull Giddy out. Or perhaps it had been indigestion. It wasn't always easy to tell.

They walked for some distance in companionable silence, dodging the moss that hung from the fungal trees and being careful not to step on anyone that had managed to get themselves turned into anything—or in one case, was hallucinating that they had. "Do you think Gideon would mind sharing his mind with you two? Or Telki...well, maybe not Telki after that...anyway, I can match the link with a crystal or something and you guys could help me keep watch so we don't have another incident like that one. I thought you were about to have some vegetable children while I was off in the head of a Treenord." Keeping his hands in his pockets, he kept his voice casual.

No need for the them know how much he was worrying about being so present in Gideon's mind. Telki was one thing—she fought off dragons with her mind, she was instinctively able to ward away the madness such touches brought. He wasn't so sure about Gideon anymore—he'd felt some hints in the Nord's memory that suggested he was being guided toward rash behavior, which he certainly didn't need. Besides which, he'd had no idea the man was so compassionate. Each stab of anguish lancing the Nord's heart had made him feel like an interloper, eavesdropping on something he was never meant to see. He felt badly for the girl, he really did, but he was almost afraid at this point that Gideon saw only that she had been forced into becoming a weapon, and not that she wasn't averse to killing him. She hadn't needed to kill those other men—letting Gideon and the Breton out had proven that—but she had anyway, and he had the impression it was because she had been bored and frustrated.

"Were you watching back there? I'm not exactly Domanio with his three wives. I was afraid I was about to get cabbage where the sun don't shine." Mercutio shuddered, "I'm not positive I didn't." He watched Rommy's face. "Is it something else? Something bothering you?"

"Are you in my head now? Bad choice," he mock winced at the other mage.

"You have a very expressive face, and I live with people that like to hide their feelings on a good day." Mercutio shrugged. Dunmer were notoriously stoic.

"Thank the...myself...I'm not in that one's head," he rolled his eyes emphatically, and one dropped out. He caught it and glared at it a moment: He had not needed to be that emphatic. It shattered into gold dust and flew back into its socket.

"Who? Erandur? I'm betting it's a lot less calm than he lets on, honestly." It took all Mercutio's willpower not to quip about keeping an eye on things. The pun-ishment probably wasn't worth it.

"The man's four worries away from being one of mine at any given moment," the new Sheogorath snorted. "You don't have to tell me about the state of his head."

"Then who? Me?" Mercutio shook his head. 'Wait, Erandur's...what? That's...not good. What can I do to help him, then?"

"Ask him."

"I do! That's the thing, even when you ask, it's like pulling a live saber cat's tooth to get anywhere, and then you wonder if he was just telling you something to make you quit worrying over him. It's frustrating to no end."

"Then do what I do: warn him that being one of mine involves fighting duels with live swordfish."

Mercutio heaved a heavy sigh. "All I can do is try."

Hesitating, Rommy stopped, regarding him. "I've been avoiding poking my nose in too much...but should I be telling Telki some of this? Honesty, she has the most chance of getting through to him. His anxiety, your confidence issues that sometimes border on self-loathing...Gideon having me in his head...probably all wifey-fixy stuff."

"Yeah, tell her. At least about Erandur. The rest, if you think you should, you probably should. Though I'm fairly certain she already knows I have 'confidence issues'."

"Space Core likes you," Rommy reminded him.

"I don't know how to explain it. On the one hand, I know Telki's not going to drop me for someone else. On the other, there's that little voice warning me I'll be left alone and it won't shut up."

"Little voice? Come here; I'll check you," he joked.

"Check away." Mercutio stopped in front of Rommy, and spread his arms, inviting him inside. Never in a million years would he feel safe enough to do that with Sanguine, though to be fair the other Deadra would probably willingly help him find all the cabbage.

Tilting his head a bit, Rommy reached out and placed a hand on either temple, searching through the man's mind. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're completely healthy in that regard...and...damn." He blinked, surprised.

"What?" Mercutio wondered what he saw to make him curse like that.

"Did you know most mages have upper limits to the amount of power they can wield? I mean, many deals with Daedra or the Ideal Masters are about blowing open those upper limits so that they can keep improving and gaining power." The Daedra hummed thoughtfully, eyes unfocused, "I can't seem to find yours, though. Your limit appears to be how much magic your body can withstand."

"I've what?" Mercutio was floored. "You're not having me on?"

"Why would I bother; I could just find something nice and true to say," he muttered, fascinated. "Even I had an upper limit before I became Sheogorath."

"Wow. I had no idea." Mercutio was dazed. "How does that even happen?"

"Luck?" Rommy guessed, releasing him and simply regarding him for a moment. "Should I even ask about the pretty girl that represents Evil with a capital E in your head?"

"She's the reason I have that little voice convinced I'm going to be left on my lonesome."

"Want me to pass the image to Sanguine? He's gotten a little protective of you," Rommy offered, turning to continue down the path. A giant rat stopped and watched them, stood up and bowed gallantly before scurrying on its way.

"Tempting, very tempting. Though I figure her own character will deliver its own comeuppance, and I won't have to worry about anyone I ca—know sullying their hands. Or catching something even a Daedric Prince doesn't want."

"Oh, Sanguine automatically heals whoever he's with of Dibellan diseases," Rommy informed him cheerfully, having completely caught the near-slip. "Actually, Dibella is still sore about that. She had nothing to do with those diseases. That was all Sanguine's fault."

"I thought for sure they were either Peryite or Namira. Why would Sam want to ruin his own fun?"

"They were both," he said gleefully. The pebbles on the path they were on shivered through a quick array of colors. "Sam got to a priestess of Nammy's that had leprosy. He instilled in her this...fascination for dragons, then introduced her to Peri, who is, as you might have noticed, a small dragon. So Peri thinks he's found the love of his life, and Nammy figures out she's about to lose a priestess, and cures her of the fleshrot as a sign of her disapproval. Sam realizes that when her face isn't falling off, she's not bad looking and...now neither of them is very happy with Sam."

"I can't even. Why would someone want a flesh eating disease?"

"Same reason they want to eat people; it's a sign of Namira's favor. She was rotting alive. What better way to serve the Daedra of Decay?" Personally, Rommy had nothing against Namira—cannibals especially were prone to madness, thanks to the same sorts of of tiny organisms that created Mad Cow. Try telling that to a cannibal, though. Last time he had, he'd been inundated with recipes that worked for both beef and people.

He hoped it was at least a couple of decades before Telki found out about that. She probably wouldn't be too thrilled with the flesh golems, either.

"I begin to think most Daedric worshippers are nominally yours as well." Mercutio shuddered. If flesh eating diseases were a favor, it was one he could do without. "So they ganged up on Sanguine to ruin his preferred pastime?"

"Worked really well, as you can see," Romulus snickered, walking up the white stone steps to the Palace. Saints and Seducers bowed from either side. One or two waved to Merc as well. He blushed, smiled at them, and stuck close to Romulus. He had enough Daedric interest to last him several lifetimes.

"So, now that I know for sure you can keep up with me," he teased, giving the mortal Imperial a sideways look, "Want to help me enchant some old Order crystal to hold a Paladin link?" An Order crystal ought to filter some of the madness from the touch of his mind.

"Romulus, I would be delighted, and feel free to teach me any old spell you wish. I'd be thrilled."

"Remind me to drive you crazy for a day and take you to Apocrypha sometime. Hermy can't keep you if you're mine, but I think you'd enjoy the stacks."

"Books are wonderful. Fishy tentacles are less so." Telki had shared some of Rommy's more colorful descriptions of Hermaeus Mora, and Sanguine's descriptions of the Seekers gave him nightmares. Of course, Sanguine's descriptions also included some wistfulness he really didn't want to examine too closely.

"Also, the shadows burn, and there's more to Hermy's crabbiness than just pincers." Not to mention the other Dragonborn the man kept as a pet. Really didn't want Telki finding out about that. That would be more disastrous than her stumbling over the cannibals.

"Why do you want to take me there, again?" It really sounded like the cons were outnumbering the pros at this point.

"I suppose we could at least get you a library card. Or you could tell me what sorts of spells you're interested in and I could bring some home for you. Don't keep them over the due date though; Hermy's fines are harsh."

"That sounds perfect. Thank you." Mercutio vowed to be the quickest returner Hermaeus Mora ever saw.

"Do you think Telki wants a ring?" he asked suddenly. "I mean, she already has a ring, technically."

"Honestly? If it came from you, as a memento you mean it when you say 'I love you,' she'll wear it with pride." He wouldn't mention he was just as sappy. There was a loop of her hair carefully tucked away in his inner pocket.

"But...well, I'm afraid of her running out of fingers if she keeps this up," he was only half joking, especially if their eventual marriage rendered her immortal. Not that that didn't have a good chance of happening even without his interference. "Should I just ask to have my name engraved on her current one with you three's, or is that only meant for you?"

Mercutio gave him a sly grin. "Only if we get your name, too."

"Lord Sheogorath, you're blushing," the Seducer in front of them said helpfully.

"Thank you, Plumwickle," he sighed. Mercutio wisely said nothing. He even tried to stifle the snickers. He was mostly successful. Mostly. "Stop that," Rommy said without rancor, "or I'll send you back to the Cabbage Patch."

Mercutio swallowed whatever humor he still had with a healthy dollop of fear.

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The very large, very muscular Nord was...very interesting, if she were completely honest with herself. Shell sat on the roof, watching him present the cabbage-smelling double to the Justicier with a smirk on her face. The warm roof tile pressed into her back where his hand had been, and she frowned, shifting uncomfortably away from the memory. Why had he done that? That was not a...a sexual grab, that was...that really didn't make sense. Of course, half the things he said didn't make sense, either, and she was half convinced he was completely bonkers, but…

But what if he wasn't? What if he had a way to bring dear old grandfather down? What if there was another life out there for them?

Shaking her head to banish the traitorous thought, she followed as they led the two remaining men to the pits, admiring the way the man's muscles moved under his skin—not just for show those, she'd bet her favorite dagger on it—and the way light seemed to get sucked into his dark hair. It was the seventh day, so there was a way in...maybe she'd visit. Her lip twisted a bit. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she'd keep her head down and do as she was told like a good little girl.

That thought decided her. When had she ever been a good little girl?

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Thank you everyone that read and reviewed!

Icicles: Here's the next part! I hope you enjoyed it as much as the previous!

Guest: Asylum is an AU of Dragon Kin. Rommy was still the Champion of Cyrodiil, but Telki was the Dragonborn. Ysmir is in this universe (she's Rommy's granddaughter after all), but she's not the Last Dragonborn destined to defeat Alduin, and she doesn't have the name Ysmir, since that is given during the game quests by the Greybeards. I hope that clears up any confusion!

afeleon276: I cannot tell you how hard I laughed at the phrase "She's gonna shank Gideon!" There is more Orien. Much more Orien. I love Orien so much it hurts me (three guesses why).

Little-Insomniac: Gideon is very fun. I thoroughly enjoy playing my characters against him.

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Next chapter: Back to the pits, where Gideon tries to win Tyr's trust.