Erandur woke to the unmistakable smell of nontrinels and snowberry tarts, and knew Rommy was back. He quickly dressed and pattered down to the High Table; he was not missing out on those particular treats if it could be helped. He hurried down to see Gideon already there, still with bedhead and tunic missing, as usual, working his way through a trencher's worth of bacon and eggs.
One of the kitchen staff, Hildy, stood watching Gideon with concern. Judging by the serving tray she was holding, she was determined to undo nearly two months of near starvation all by herself. That sort of care and loyalty was a hallmark of those in the Palace. Hildy was one of Erandur's favorites; she always had one more snowberry tart for the road for him.
Erandur fixed his own trencher at the side board, nodding to Hildy and trading 'good mornings' and sat down next to Gideon. Sanguine was directly across from Gideon, head down and snoring.
"When did he get in?" Erandur carefully bit into his first nontrinel. Mara's mercy, it was still warm. It melted on his tongue just the way it was supposed to.
"Dunno, he was here doing that when I got my breakfast this morning." Gideon carefully wrapped bacon around a bite of egg, and popped it into his mouth.
"Hmm." Both of them ate in silence for a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of having each other there again.
"Merc moving yet?" Gideon asked, scooping up a bite of egg with his last hunk of bread.
"There were definite signs of life by the time I was leaving the room. He should be down shortly."
"If he hurries, there might even be some bacon left for him."
"Telki's gone, then?" Erandur's mood dropped a little. He thought he remembered Telki kissing him goodbye, and a vague explanation, but he'd been so asleep that it melded into a dream, leaving him unsure it had even happened.
Sam raised his ruffled head, blinked around blurrily, smirked appreciatively at Gideon's chest, then clambered to his feet, filled a plate with enough bacon to feed Gideon, put a cover on it, fell back into his seat and put his arms around the covered plate, going right back to sleep.
"What?" Gideon regarded the suddenly snoozing Sam with suspicion and humor.
"I think someone's making sure Mercutio gets his share of bacon this morning." Erandur regarded him with laughter bouncing in his eyes. "You're a bigger softy than you let on, you old fetcher."
There was a snort from under the folded arms, but nothing more.
Further commentary was interrupted by the appearance of Mercutio, looking fresh as a daisy, and not like a man kept up most of the night reacquainting himself with the finer points of his spouses.
"Good morning everyone, hope I'm not too late for breakfast?" Mercutio looked over the sideboard, where what was left of the baked goods and breakfast foods were laid out. Thanks to a lot of hungry children unused to being able to take what they wanted, it looked rather like someone had been racing miniature storm atronachs down the table.
Sam's head bobbed back up like he was playing a children's game. "Muffin!" he cried joyfully.
"Good morning, Sam. I trust you're well?" Mercutio filled a plate with what he could find. There were still some eggs, and a few snowberry tarts had escaped Erandur's notice, surprisingly.
"I saved you some bacon, Muffin. And some muffins," the apparent Breton said, holding up the plate.
"I…wow, thank you, Sam. That was very kind." Mercutio looked it over, slightly surprised the Daedra of Funtimes would be that thoughtful. Mercutio sat down on the other side of Gideon, who was being incredibly quiet about the whole thing. "I'm guessing from all the baking Rommy was here sometime?"
"Rommy was here," Sam grumbled, flicking a flake of sugar glaze off his robes, then thinking better of it and sucking it off his finger. He peered up at Gideon, clearly thinking, then let his gaze drop to Gideon's chest, expression much happier.
"Was? He had to leave again, then?" Erandur looked concerned. "Is it something we can help with?"
"I'd be more worried about Telki than Rommy right now," Sam said, taking a large swallow of mead.
"What's happened now?" It was spooky when they did that.
"Quit talking in unison, I'm already—hic!—seeing all of you twice. Don't need to hear you twice." He fixed his gaze back on Merc and sighed happily. "Two Muffins."
"Sam, what is the concern with Telki?" Erandur guided Sam back to the item of interest.
"Nothing much, Rommy just needs to give her a talking to. I hope there's spanking," he smiled lasciviously. "She looks like the kind that would make cute little noises when spanked."
Gideon, Mercutio, and Erandur all shared looks. "No. No spanking." They did that unison thing again.
"L-Lord Gideon!" Now the eyebrows were in the hairline, because Gideon did not remember getting elevated. He turned to see who addressed him.
It wasn't anyone he recognized, but he wore the intricate fox amulet of Shor's order, and the fresh-faced enthusiasm of an initiate in their first year away from the Keep. There never seemed to be enough paladins to keep up with the number of potential squires. "My Lord! Where have you been? And your shirt! Did you lose it in a fight with a dragon?" Gideon wanted to groan. He really wasn't awake enough or rested enough to deal with an admirer right now.
"Nope," Shell said, somehow materializing on Gideon's lap, huddled in his shirt and cuddling up to him. "How do you all live here? This place is freezing!" Somehow, the massive garment managed to hang just right to show off her assets, rather than making her look like a child in grown up clothing. Or perhaps that had to do with the way she had gathered it in with an intricate series of folds and tucks, like an Ayleid garment.
Gideon immediately wrapped his arms around Shell. "That's all I am to you, isn't it? A personal warmer?" He pulled her in close and dropped a kiss at her temple.
"For now," she grumbled, glaring at Sam like it was all his fault. He smiled devilishly at her, but when he opened his mouth to retort, she tossed a snowberry, making him choke. "I don't want to hear it."
Mercutio looked around the room, a puzzled look on his face. "Maybe I'm borrowing trouble, but where are the children, and who's watching them?"
"They're running around Windhelm like it isn't the ice capitol of Tamriel, and they are perfectly capable of watching themselves. Regardless, they had half the city volunteering to show them about," Shell said crankily, starting to relax as Gideon's warmth finally warded away the chill. Curious, she tilted her head, orange hair shimmering gold and red as it tumbled over Gideon's forearm, and examined the gawping human he had been talking to. He was taller than her by over a head, but he had the unfinished look of someone not yet done growing.
Gideon turned to look when the youngling made sounds more reminiscent of a newborn pig. The poor boy's eyes bugged out of his head, and his mouth worked like a landed fish. "Are you alright?"
"But…but…but…Shor's mercy, but aren't you married to the Dragonborn?"
"Oh, we all are, well, except for him and her." Mercutio airily pointed out.
"I would consider joining," Shell said, pouting just to see how hard she could make the poor young man flush, "but she doesn't like kissing girls."
"Oh, we're as far as considering now?" Gideon looked at her searchingly. "Does that mean I finally get to know what 'mellani' means?" Next to him, Erandur spewed his mulled cider.
"I will bite you and you will like it," she warned, snagging one of Merc's many muffins and popping a piece in her mouth. Transferring her wide green gaze to the boy, she helpfully showed him her teeth. "Bosmer, you know," she said, running her tongue over the pointed canines. Sam made a little appreciative noise.
"Shell, be nice, the poor lad's already half cracked as it is." Gideon gave the poor boy a look of apology. "We're just back from a rescue mission, and we're all more than a little punchdrunk from the trip. Perhaps we can talk later, and I can answer any questions you have?"
"I can help answer questions," Shell suggested mischievously. She obviously wasn't talking questions of a religious nature.
"I…I…I just need to…oh I've got to run! I'm due in the practice yard right now!" The poor boy ran out the doors as if Mehrunes was after him.
Sam cackled, "Oh, this is so much fun!" he crowed, then turned to Shell. "Offer still stands. Want to be my Champion?"
"Sam, please," Gideon sighed, "I am asking you, as a friend, to give Shell time to figure herself out. If she then wants to be your Champion, not even I would object. She's never had the freedom to decide for herself. If nothing else, I want to give her that freedom. Jumping to your championship would not allow her that."
"I'd allow her plenty of freedom!" Sam protested, reaching over and grabbing her hand, rubbing his thumb over the faint rose marking his lips had left. Shell shivered and threw another snowberry at him.
"If she so chose, could she only love one, and never drink or gamble?" asked Gideon.
"Where's the fun in that?" Sam asked, honestly bewildered.
"For some, it is fun. What if she wanted to be a committed mother? Or chose to…to devote herself to Arkay? There is much being your Champion would preclude, but you cannot see it, because they are things that don't interest you. Yet they are things that others find great worth in, else why would they still exist?"
From the look on his face, it was clear Sam still didn't understand.
"There's two other considerations, Sam," Erandur chimed in. "Telki would be upset, and would probably stop making your Super Mead. The other is Mercutio."
The Daedra looked thoughtful, eyes on his thumb stroking circles on her skin. He did not look happy. He glanced over at Merc and started to pout as the mage put in his two septims. "Gideon is important to me, and Shell is important to Gideon. How do you feel when someone upsets Rommy?"
The pout deepened.
Shell finally had had enough and twisted her hand, catching Sam's and slamming it against the table to reclaim his attention. "You want me?" she asked bluntly. "Fine. Under two conditions, you can have me. The first is that you're in your Dremora form," she said and his face lit up. "The second is that you're sober. Stone. Cold. Sober. That means no substances, whatsoever, for at least five days beforehand. And you'd be watched those five days, too. That's the only way I'd agree. I'm not into drunken pawing."
"Shell, are you sure of this path?" Erandur was the first to find his voice, and it was overflowing with concern. Mercutio beside him was bone white, and Gideon was watching her face intently, probably trying to figure out if he needed Rommy's assistance.
"I'm sure. Sober, or you don't get anything out of me," she said, eyes still locked with Sanguine's.
Sam released her hand, sitting back to examine her. "Huh," he said, folding his hands under his chin and looking both cunning and businesslike. "Five days?"
"No substances," she confirmed. "Nothing but water and raw fruits and vegetables, and meat prepared without any kind of sauce." She smiled grimly, "Or herbs. I know what some people can do with herbs."
Another long moment passed, Sam's eyes flickering as if he were working out something in his head, planning.
"Mushrooms, Shell. There's more than a few with, interesting, properties," Erandur added.
"Mushrooms are neither fruit nor vegetable," she replied, still watching the Daedra. "If I need to, I'll prepare his food myself."
"That might be the safer stipulation," Mercutio finally found his voice.
"Probably," she agreed. "Because if I don't trust he's stuck to it, I won't count it."
Finally, Sam's face crumpled into the more familiar, sort of whiney look he usually wore around Merc. "Oh, come on!" he cried. "This is no fun!"
"Look at it this way," Erandur scraped the last of the egg together onto the last of his bread. "If she fixes it, you might actually get flavorful food. Otherwise, you'd get unseasoned meat, and raw plant material. Not a happy prospect."
Huffing like a thwarted child, he put his head down on his arms, still glaring across the table at Shell. "I need to think about this."
She smiled sweetly. "There are lots of other fish in the sea, Sam," she reminded him.
"True," he perked up and transferred his gaze to Merc, sighing happily. "And you're not the only pretty person around."
Merc raised an eyebrow. "I thought we established that I only engage in long term relationships. Until you spot someone else is not long term."
"Still lookie but no touchie; got it," Sam said, as if he were repeated what Merc had said. Flicked his eyes to Shell and Gideon, he added, "Lots of no touchie around here, apparently."
"You must hang around us for the witty repartee and charming company." Erandur gathered his and his spouses' plates together. "Sam, are you done as well? I'll take them to the kitchen staff."
Sam glanced at the collection of mugs around him. "I'm still using these."
"All of them? I've heard of two fisted drinking, but…how would that even work?" Mercutio stared at the mugs as if he expected the answer to the riddle would occur just by staring at them.
Sam smiled at him—a surprisingly non-seducing, "watch this" kind of smile—and poured his breakfast ale from his mug into the first of the mugs. It filled, then the next one filled, then the next, until all the mugs were filled and he was still pouring from the first one. "I'm so talented. Love me."
Mercutio shook his head in amusement. "In spite of yourself, I am fond of you. The committed relationship stipulation still stands."
Sam was staring at Merc like Min did at small children. "Really?" he squeaked, hands tucked under his chin and eyes large.
Mercutio felt rather like the proverbial man digging his own grave, but he wasn't about to lie to a Daedric Prince, either. "You've been helpful, thoughtful, and considering you're the Daedric Prince of Behaving Badly, remarkably restrained. The effort is appreciated."
Sam launched himself across the table halfway through this, knocking over platters and somehow only pushing his mugs out of the way as he slid into Merc's lap, crying "He likes me! He really likes me!" It was difficult to tell if he were mocking or just excited. Clinging to the poor mage, he gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, the noise obscenely loud.
The Bosmer was watching this with a raised eyebrow. "It's like he's two different people," she commented softly to Gideon.
"Shell, are you comfortable with this plan? I am worried for you." Gideon finally found words, but they weren't nearly enough.
"It's fine, mellani," she said, snuggling back into him. "Even if he could get through five days of sobriety, I don't think he could get through five days of what I'd cook him."
"Ready to tell me yourself what that means?" Gideon kissed her temple again, laughing at her deviousness. "And remember, he drinks as a regular course a special mead that kills small animals that get too near the fumes." Gideon shuddered. "Telki makes it especially for him."
"I'll make sure I keep a tempting bottle in the room if he decides to try," she said, deliberately ignoring the first part.
Gideon frowned into her hair. His curiosity was getting prickly. "Erandur, what does 'mellani' mean?"
"Eh, Gideon, is that wise? She's looking rather ferocious at the moment." The woman in question preened a little at Erandur's word choice.
"Is 'mellani' a good thing or a bad thing?" It really was astonishing how she could pull those little daggers out without seeming to draw them from anywhere. Currently she was ostentatiously checking the blade for nicks.
"Well, if she stabs me, it's a very bad thing."
"I wouldn't hit anything vital," she assured him, all smiles again as the dagger vanished and she snuggled into Gideon's chest.
"Then let me state for the record I consider all of my person vital."
Merc's rather strangled tone cut into the conversation. "Sam, your hands are passing into the 'I'm getting less fond of you by the minute' zone."
"Sam, you worked hard to get in his good graces, be a shame to lose all that hard work over a grab or fondle." Gideon warned.
"Alright," Sam said cheerfully, then leaned over and put his hands in the exact same spot on Gideon. He pulled them back rather quickly when Shell whipped around with two daggers ready to throw. "You people are getting very, very entertaining. And I thought you were fun before," he grinned, not put off in the least.
He rubbed his chin in her hair. "Can I call you 'mellani', Shell?"
She paused, looking up at him. "Hmmmm…no," she decided, flipping around to settle in his lap. "Not until you speak Aldmeris."
"How can I learn Aldmeris if you won't let me start with my first word?"
Leaning over, she picked up a salt pile. "Vezzis. Salt," she told him.
"I speak fluent Nordic, Dovahzul, and Mercutio. I guess adding Aldmeris wouldn't hurt me. Vezzis." Gideon took the salt and held it up dutifully as he named it, a wry smile curling his lip.
"I wanna learn Mercutio!" Sam whined as Shell started pointing to various things on the table and naming them.
"Oh, you are, whether you meant to or not." Erandur quipped lightly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands comfortably over his stomach. He was full, he had two of his spouses there, and the floor show wasn't bad, either.
.
.
The Palace at New Sheoth didn't look all that different. Some of the items had fallen off their pedestals, and water was sloshed all over the throne room floor, but that was it. Haskill was wading around with a mop, apron over his clothing. Fish swam around energetically, jumping out of the water around his calves to holler insults at him. He looked up when Rommy and Telki appeared before the throne. "Ah, there you are, my lord. Do you wish entertainment?"
"No thank you, Haskill. I have work to do," Rommy said, putting a hand lightly on her back.
"You work a great deal for a Mad God," the steward said, the closest he came to criticizing.
"There are funner forms of insanity," Romulus agreed.
Telki looked around, a solemn look on her face. How bad had the damage been, if New Sheoth, land of instant creation, was still showing signs? Rommy had so far told her nothing, and that worried her most of all.
He gave her a small, sad smile, sensing her worries, and took her hand, leading her around the lower part of the room to the doors on either side. Pushing one open revealed dazzling sunlight, blinding her to the sight of the Isles for a moment.
The courtyard looked mostly the same, but beyond it the Isles were vastly different. Dementia and Mania were separated further than a simple line of differentiating floral colors; a great fissure cut down the center, ending steps from the marble of the Palace. Around it, the land on both sides was black and tossed, almost burned, with great jutting rock formations that half resembled statues, moaning and pulling at their distorted faces. Even the established colors of Mania and Dementia were off-kilter; some of the giant mushroom trees had inverted their caps and the path heaved upwards in some places, dropping down in others. That said nothing of the flora and fauna, much of which could not be told from the other.
"Sweet mercies, Rommy, how bad was it?" Telki turned wide worried eyes to him, hoping she was wrong, almost certain she wasn't. "If this is after you've restored it…" Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, and she leaned weakly on him. "I think you got the worst end of this deal, Love."
"I kinda like it," he joked, pulling her in for a cuddle. "We can have three parts of the Isles now; Mania, Dementia, and Angry Teenage Bedroom." Weak giggles erupted from the vicinity of his chest.
"I love you, and I'm sorry. How many did I hurt?"
"Eh," he really didn't want to tell her. "I had Relmyna go around fixing people. She got a lot of good research in, so she was happy to help." Keeping his arm around her waist, he walked forward, around the fissure and into Dementia. "It's probably about time you met her, but I think we'll save that for a later time. She's still not too happy with me for taking over the Isles and killing her child."
"Killing her child? Rommy, what? Something tells me he or she wasn't cabbages." Telki's emotions were as tumbled as the water in the fissure. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, as they seemed to want to zoom to another extreme with every little bit of news Rommy shared. Her guilty conscience was quick to remind her that was the least she deserved, after the damage she did Rommy and the Isles.
"He wasn't very nice," Rommy assured her. "Anyway, I helped her make a new one." He paused, "I didn't mean that how it sounded."
"What?" Confusion, thy name be Telki.
"Relmyna is a necromancer, a flesh mage. She makes golems. They're…they need a little help getting to life sometimes."
"Oh. Okay." Her voice was even less sure than she felt. Telki looked about her as she tried to make sense of that bit of information. "So, where are we going, if it isn't to see her?"
He glanced about, then down at her. He'd been looking at the Isles' new configuration for a while now, but Telki seemed a little overwhelmed by it. "I'm a bit tired still. Do you mind if we skip the walk?" he asked, turning her so that she looked up at him, rather than the blasted landscape around them.
Telki sifted her fingers through his hair, and softly cradled his cheeks in her hands. "If you wanted to stay in New Sheoth and sleep a week, I'd have been fine with that plan, too. Do as you wish, Love."
There was something incredibly wrong about Telki looking sad. Gathering her to him, he dissolved them both into butterflies, taking her swiftly to a part of the Isles he had never thought to show her.
Cages lined with people, some gibbering, some ominously quiet and still. The cool, blue-grey stone wept condensation, and he took her hand, pulling her along quickly before she looked too closely. Finally, he stopped, looking into a further cell, where a familiar figure cowered in the corner, watching them with wide golden eyes.
"Well hello Fifi. Fancy meeting you here." Telki's ire hadn't cooled a wit where he was concerned, and fanned to life the moment she recognized him.
The man cringed, covering his head with his arms and rocking. Rommy put his hands on Telki's shoulders, simply watching the Altmer from over her head. "When you learned some of what he was doing, you wished for a way to kill him again and again. Well, I knew a way. I can't tell you how many times he's died here already, or how long Relmyna will keep him around, but I can tell you from experience, it hurts a lot."
"Understand this, if you understand nothing else." There was no compassion in Telki's eyes or voice, cold purpose iced every word. "The pain you have experienced, the pain you will experience, will never equal the pain you have doled out to others. Perhaps, if you're ever granted such an opportunity, you might remember this lesson in your next life."
"He's not getting a next life," Rommy told her grimly.
"You can be that certain?" Telki asked flatly, hard eyes not leaving the cowering figure.
"I'm keeping him here."
"That might almost be enough." Telki turned her back on Faloniril, and buried her face into Rommy's chest. "Thank you. It helps, some. What's next?"
"Let's just get out of here. I hate this place. And," a hint of humor finally returned to his voice, though it sounded a bit tired as well, "Relmyna's still not certain how she feels about me, and I'd rather you weren't there when she decides one way or the other."
"I'd rather I wasn't, too."
He wasted no time taking her out of Dementia. Up until this point, he'd ensured she barely stepped foot there, mostly going on the paths on Mania and in Passwall, always with an escort. This wasn't the worst the Isles had to offer, but she'd not turned away from it. He placed them back on the steps of the Palace, looking out over the damage. From there, if you sat long enough, you could watch it mending. Despite his jests, he didn't want it to remain. It was a visible sign of the pain of the woman he loved.
Taking her hand lightly, he concentrated on the fissure, forcing it closed a little faster, moving the rocks back down. He'd fixed the minor ones in Mania and Dementia already, but he hadn't been able to do the main split. Now, the progress was easily visible.
Seeing it move, seeing it slowly get better, released a ball of pressure Telki had felt tight in her chest, and it came out on a sob and a babble of apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You left me to take care of the Isles, and first thing I broke it. I'm sorry I'm not, I'm not strong enough…"
Filling his lap with miserable Khajiit, Rommy cuddled her for a moment, thinking on what she said. "Do you know what I did, my first year as Sheogorath?"
"No. Little before my time."
"I wrecked everything. Killed some people I wouldn't have otherwise, just by accident. Completely tore up the entire landmass at one point," he rested his head on her hair, gently stroking over her ears and shoulders.
"But you got left to learn on your own. You didn't have anyone to help you, I did have help, I had you, but I couldn't even hear you over the roar of anger buzzing in my head." Telki shuddered, "I don't know how to beat that. What sort of Queen am I, if I can't help?"
"That's at least partially my fault," he said, holding her tighter. "I knew you would get angry if you saw the focus, that's why I tried to get you to relinquish the power first. You flying into a rage like that wasn't your fault; you were filled with madness. You couldn't be expected to know how you were going to react. That's why it's madness."
"It feels like my fault. I'm the one that did it, and again, how am I to help you, if I can't handle the mad? I don't like leaving it all on your shoulders, awesome as they are." Telki ran a loving hand up and down his shoulder, cupping his neck on her final pass, squeezing him back.
"Thank you for that, Love, but I haven't been totally on my own. Not since the 'ripping up the entire landmass' incident."
"Oh? Who's been helping you?" Telki's head came up from its resting spot on his chest.
"Helping…annoying…I didn't ask him to, he just apparently feels responsible for making me a god," Rommy shrugged.
"Jyggy?" Telki felt no shame in her jaw hanging open.
"That's why he 'attacks' the Fringes," he confessed ruefully. "In his own way, he's been teaching me to use my powers for the last few centuries."
"Well, his last teaching session nearly cost the Isles. I mean, if he weren't doing that, would you have felt the need to leave me here, hopped up on madpower?" Telki scrunched her eyebrows in thought. "And why hide what he's actually doing?"
"Yes, actually. As long as the Mad Throne is empty, there is a chance someone can take it. I am still very young, for a Daedra."
Telki rubbed her temples. "I don't understand. I first met you, you were playing hooky in Pelagius' head, and had been for about a decade. You told me you can leave for short periods of time, and everything's hunky dory. Suddenly, three days in the Soul Cairn's too much? What am I missing?"
"The mortal world is different than Oblivion," he shrugged, trying to think of a good way to explain it. "I'm never fully there. I will always come back here from it. Another Oblivion plane, and I'm fully there. I can be trapped, held, or killed there like I can't on the mortal plane."
"Daedra rules make my head hurt." Telki rubbed her face in his neck. "So, how much of him messing with the Fringes was him actually worried about his 'optimal timeline' and how much cramming sessions? And again, why hide it? I nearly called that favor in from Malacath."
"The timeline thing's real," Rommy grumbled, looking very annoyed. "Something about one of my descendants is needed for one of his plans. He wanted them there long enough to ensure they were 'ready,' whatever that entails. He's very put out that he will have to find other ways to prepare them."
"Um, hi? Hello? The very helpful Dovahkiin and Company that likes to stick their noses in everything?" Telki was grumbling in his neck. "Did he suddenly forget I existed?"
"I think he's actually irritated that you won't work for this particular plan," he sighed, rubbing his hand up and down her back.
"See, that's the problem: no plan survives the first engagement. Secondly, me and math don't get along. Using me for a plan is like trying to divide by zero."
Rommy's laughter brightened the air about them, sprouting flowers all along the pathways. "I'm going to tell him that," he said decisively.
"No please, let me." Her voice very dry. "I've not completed my collection of Daedric Princes yet. I still have thumping to do." Telki snuggled him close, "Though I'll let you tell Mora about the calamari recipe I've got ready if he doesn't behave himself."
Considering Mora was probably the one Jyggalag was plotting his current revenge against, Rommy thought it interesting that she'd say that. He knew the former Prince of Madness was getting back at the other Daedra for his curse, one by one, but he wished he wasn't using his family to do it. "Well, I'd prefer if you didn't thump him yet. He said as long as we were going to do 'hair brained schemes' like this, he's willing to teach you a thing or two."
"Is he done making you miserable? I want it in a promise a Daedra can't break. Otherwise, we might come to cross purposes." Telki leaned against him, "Either way you look at this, you're gonna have to let me talk to quartzbutt sooner or later."
Thinking on this a moment, Rommy sighed and rested his head back on her hair. "These will probably be very short lessons." It wasn't a curse that would drive Jyggalag mad again, he thought, it was Telki.
"Rommy, I'm serious. His shenanigans put you, the Isles, and your grands in danger. I'm not having anymore of his nonsense. And you have to admit, so far, I remain undefeated when it comes to Daedra. Why, I have no clue, unless I truly am the Blessed Idiot." Telki listened to his heartbeat a moment. "You've put this particular disaster off as long as you could. Time's up, I'm afraid. If it means anything to you, you've held me off longer than anyone else so far."
"Telki I…" he sighed. "He could have left me to my own devices. I don't think he's really doing this because he feels responsible. Not entirely, anyway."
"My guess is it's part guilt, part self preservation. He's himself again; if you're not here, he might get sucked back into the Isles again. If he's going to consider himself your friend and mentor, then he's by damned going to start acting like one!" Telki huffed to catch her breath. "That means considering the safety of your loved ones, too, in his grand schemes."
"Well, you're not wrong about the curse, anyway," Rommy replied after moment. "And who knows? Maybe you can make him see that he's hurting people. Honestly, though, he's very expedient. It might not matter to him very much."
"Honey, track record, what does it say?" Telki rubbed her face against his chest. She really liked the chest. The only chest more comfy was Gideon's, but only because it had more acreage. "I'll make him care, because if there's one thing I can do, it's muck up a plan."
"Can't argue with that," he chuckled, watching a massive basalt upthrust thrust its way back down. He fought down the urge to play whack-a-mole.
Telki giggled, "That was funny. Looked like a gopher going down its burrow."
"Alright, we're playing whack-a-mole later," he promised, nuzzling her neck. "The mole might be undead, though. I haven't been annoyed by any moles enough for that lately. Though I could transmorph Stanley…"
"Honey, let's just use the plinths we need to stick in the ground anyways? Now, less talk, more kiss, please." Telki tilted her head to give him better access. Oh, she'd missed that!
"Doesn't make the same noises," he grumbled, standing and lifting her with him. If there was going to be kissing, he wanted to be inside and away from prying eyes. Like Relmyna's. Or the Duchess's. Or, Daedra forbid, the Duke's.
"Pfft, you can make them make the noises. You can do just about anything, including turning them into squeaky moles. Oh, right thereee." Rommy had hit a spot that literally had her singing. "I love you so much."
"Because of my kissing abilities?" he laughed, moving them into the Palace.
"Hmm, because of your everything abilities. Because you can hold me together, even when I'm falling apart, because you love me despite nearly wrecking the Isles, because you're flat worth loving, period." Each point was a careful flip of his neckcloth, slowly coming undone with each sentence. "Now lemme kiss this chest, it's been without for entirely too long." Telki finally unknotted the scarf, and flung it aside, going for the tunic underneath.
He caught her hands—they were very distracting—and then sought her eyes when she looked up questioningly. "Even after what you saw? I could banish that from the Isles if I wanted to. I don't want to," he said bluntly.
"We had this talk, Love. Did you think I forgot? After you saw my temper tantrum? I can promise you, that was mostly me. Let me see another baby in danger, and I will prove it to you."
"Talking about it is one thing. Seeing it is quite another," he said, sitting down on one of the hall benches so that he could think a little better. He needed all the help he could get in that department.
"Well, you've seen me at my worst, and still want me. Why wouldn't I still want you?" Telki tugged on his hands. "Did you think, all this time, I was lying about what I saw when you shared yourself with me? Did you think you really hid those shadowy parts?" Telki hitched herself higher in his lap, so she could trap his face. "I love you. Dementia and all, I love you. Scary necromancers and assholes in cages for eternities of experimentation, I. Still. Love. You. Not running, still worth it. Understand yet?"
He looked a bit surprised, staring up at her. "There's worse," he confessed. "You'll stumble on it eventually. Now you know that this place isn't all pretty mushrooms and annoying grapefruit and pretty Unicorns."
"To be fair, you stole the Unicorn from Hircine." Telki cuddled his head to her chest. "Do you forget, for three days, I was the Shivering Isles? I know there's some seriously disturbing things. Like you said, not all madness is pretty, but that makes them no less people, no less worthy to be cared for, and yes, I had to put one down while you were gone. Cried the whole time. She's now a venus flytrap that sings. You told me this place eats children. I didn't run then; I'm not going to run now. I love you."
"So what is it that's still bothering you?" he asked, confused. He could sense something, some uncertainty there. "If it's not the Isles, what is it?"
"Rommy, you do know I'm fallible, right? You may think I'm all sunshine and rainbows, but there's hurricanes and twisters in there." Telki studied his eyes carefully, looking for understanding. "If you're going to love me, you have to love more than just happy me. There's sad and angry me, too."
He blinked at her, "I know that," he replied, then his face lit up with realization and he smiled like the sun coming out. Reaching beside them, he plucked a flower through the window and handed it to her. It was a little purple thing, streaked in every other shade of purple. It couldn't rightly decide from one moment to the next which shade was dominant. "Do you know what this is?" he asked her.
"A very pretty flower, other than that, not a clue."
He tucked it behind her ear. "I don't know what it's called, either. It didn't show up in the Isles until after I met you."
"It didn't?"
"There are three or four different types," he said, leaning back and watching her. "They bloom all over now. You probably noticed them along the way. The biggest ones rival the mushrooms, but they sit low to the ground. Some of the mad have taken to sleeping in them." He paused, glancing out the window. "Did you know I was Duke of Dementia, once?"
"I do now," Telki squeezed him close. "Doesn't change how much I love you. Is that part of why you're certain sure I'm eventually going to run from you?"
"This is about your question," he avoided that, tapping the tip of her nose. "My point is, while I ruled, the Isles were more like Dementia than Mania. My madness—that I brought with me, not that I inherited—is dark. I know you have darkness, too, Telki. Every person is made of light and shadow. You may not be all sunshine and rainbows, but that's what you brought back to me. You're my sunshine and rainbows. And various unnamed species of flower."
"Aww, honey, I feel like you got the short end on this deal." Telki snuggled against him, pressing her ear close to his heartbeat. "I like your flowers. You should name them. You want to know what you mean to me?"
"I don't feel like I got shorted anything," he said firmly, then smiled, "What?"
"You mean love, and protection. You make me feel safe, and normal, if that makes any sense. I don't feel like the Divine Idiot with you. I feel like a woman in love." Telki rolled her head so she could look in his eyes. "I'm not explaining this nearly as poetically as you did. Which one of us is the bard again?"
He laughed, tilting her chin up to kiss her. "That would be you," he reminded her softly, gazing into her eyes from inches away.
"So, are you going to be like Mercutio, expecting me to disappear in the middle of the night on you, or do you think, at some point, you can actually trust that I love you?"
He closed his eyes as pain washed through them. "I know you love me, Telki. Sometimes, that isn't enough. That's what I'm afraid of. That it won't always be enough. Not just on your part, but on Fate's." The image of Felicia under the rubble of their house flashed through his mind. He held Telki closer until it faded. He'd long since given up trying to push it away.
"Fate can go sit and spin on a porcupine." Telki rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders, trying to sooth the pain away. "I'm no stranger to fighting those kinds of ghosts, and if it's the price of loving you, so be it. I'm not going to be happy about it always, but I'm in it for the long haul. Nothing is going to scare me away from loving you, not your past, not the Isles, none of it." Telki leaned in, nose to nose with Rommy. "And if I can help you heal enough that you can trust that much, I'll feel like I accomplished something. Like giving Fate a nice big fat black eye."
Rommy burst out laughing. "Well, considering 'Fate' is either used for Mora or Akatosh, do go after the bigger eyeball, huh?" He looked at her warmly, unable to convey how much what she'd said meant to him. Eventually, he'd show her.
"If Akatosh is behind making you that miserable I'm not above clocking him, too." Telki side eyed him. "I'm incorrigible that way."
"As a mortal, he was the same way. Please don't punch my friends. Except for Sam. You can punch Sam, because if he pushes you that far, he's done something to deserve it."
Telki's brows drew together. "When Akatosh was mortal…are you saying what I think you're saying?"
The Daedric Prince of Madness shrugged. "Just because we're not able to really talk anymore doesn't mean we don't know what happened to each other."
"Nope, not accepting it, he has to come visit now. If he literally can't come here, he'll just have to avatar his little self to one of the houses for a visit. I insist."
"It's painful enough being around Erandur some days," Rommy grumbled. "He…he tried coming here, at first. Tried to help me. It…didn't work out very well for either of us."
"There has to be a way to tone the aura down, shield it, as it were." Telki's eyes lit with speculation.
Looking seriously alarmed now, he gaped at her, "Telki do you know what a Dragon Break is? It's when the God of Time spends too long in the Realm of Madness."
"Like I said, you can take short visits to Mundus, why can't he? If I'm right, and the big ward can shield the aura, that means more time with a friend you thought lost. If not, you'll at least both know you tried?"
"I…think this is a really bad idea and have no way of talking you out of it, do I?" he finally managed.
"I used a shield to suppress Fifi's link on the prisoners. I can try a similar shield on Erandur: If that reduces the buzz, would you be willing to see if he'd try it? Should I call him 'Tosh, or, it was Martin, right?"
"I would give a great deal to see you call him 'Tosh," Rommy was torn between laughter and tears. What was this woman, really? She should have been the Daedra of Madness all along. He sobered a bit. "I…Honestly, Telki. I don't know if I want to see him. I don't know if I want anyone that knew me, uh, before, to see what I've become."
"Honey, you have literally no reason to be ashamed. You were given a bum deal. You've not only survived, but turned it into a rip roaring victory. If I am proud of what you've accomplished, how can a friend who knew you when not be?"
"Did you know Aedra and Daedra are elven words?" he said, apparently out of nowhere. "People didn't call them that when I was all mortal and squishy. They literally mean 'ancestors' and 'not ancestors' in Ehlnofex."
"I did actually know that. I found it hilarious since so many of the Daedra are considered 'god ancestors' of various elven races." Telki rubbed her nose against Romulus'. "Where are you going with this, because if it's because the two magics don't play nice, that's why I want to experiment with the shields."
"Where I was going was what they used to call them. Divines and demons. I became a demon, Telki."
"No, you are not a demon. There is nothing demonic about you or your motives. Molag Bal is a demon; Mehrunes is a demon. I defy you to call Meridia or Azura a demon. Sam's a little shady, but not demonic. Hircine's just a literal ass. It's as subjective as Aedra and Daedra. Always has been."
His smile was all softened shadows, like sun peeking through leaves. "You really are something incredible, you know?" he said, gently stroking her hair.
"Keep saying it, and I may start to believe it at some point. Just remember I'm yours, 'kay?" Telki nuzzled into his neck. She needed a sconey scent infusion. He wasn't loath to give it to her, tilting her head back up for a kiss.
"Mmmm, are we good now? All the words that needed saying been said?" Telki worked her way from those delectable lips to that sexy jawline. It needed attention.
He snickered, "I'll have to inform that stupidly impressive elf that I found a way to make you not want to talk," he teased, standing back up and carrying her to their room. Still a flower bed. Oh, well; he didn't think she'd mind.
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So, on my end, I was bedridden for a week, and am now unexpectedly dog-sitting. Diesel is an adorable puppybaby that likes his butt rubbed and has big, soulful eyes. He's also really, really hard to find in the dark, or when he takes a nap on the black couch.
My hospitalized family member is home! I am told he's doing well, though he came home after I went off dog-sitting, so I have yet to see this for myself.
Thank you everyone that read and reviewed! It means so much to us!
afeleon276: We're still working that out. :) Miraak's around, but his cultists haven't taken it into their heads to go after Telki. We kind of...extended the timeline out a bit.
Wynni: I'm beginning to think life with Sicilians is always going to play like a soap opera. Still waiting for someone to get amnesia. With my luck, it will probably be me.
KStormblade: Considering the news he gave her earlier, she's not holding it against him. And yes, Rommy is extremely useful for house renovations.
AnotherGuest: Always nice to be told with authority that you're not a monster. :) Shell, at least, needed to hear it. My eyes are much better. Still a little dry in the morning, but no longer red and puffy and gunked shut, so yay! Thank you for asking!
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Next Chapter: Telki finally gets to meet The Prince of Order. (This story does have an end, I promise. It's just that their actions have a lot of consequences.)