Chapter 25:

Teatime

The Elder Scrolls Series is property of Bethesda. Familiar of Zero is (currently) property of Media Factory (I believe)

"Talking"

"Thoughts"

"Powerful (Dragon/Daedra/etc.) speech"

"DOVAHZUL"

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"You really stirred up the bee's nest, you know," Sheogorath said as he plopped down on Master Johan's cot (as if he were just some strange acquaintance and not a literal Demon God), granting Louise an uncomfortable view of his legs—one shaved as smooth as a baby's bottom, the other hairier than a dog. "I'm serious!" the demon god exclaimed in a very un-godly and un-demony manner. "Every species of bee in Mundus and Oblivion stopped making honey the second you disappeared. "Course," the Prince's voice took on a thoughtful tone as he stared contemplatively at the ceiling, "that might just be because winter's finally upon us and the natural life-cycle of the bee doesn't allow for excess honey production during the colder months of the year." He then huffed, frowning like a petulant child, "Either way, my weekends have become a lot less fun."

Louise couldn't help but stare wide-eyed, terrified, and overall confused at her master. He briefly flicked his gaze towards her, before gesturing to Sheogorath, "Would you care for some tea?"

"As long as you don't put any honey in it!" Louise was tempted to ask why he'd spent a good minute droning on about honey if he didn't want any, but somehow managed to hold her tongue (she was tempted to turn around and find some form of comfort in Siesta's undoubtedly 'just as terrified' expression, but she was rooted in place.)

"Hey, Pinkie!" Louise stiffened—more, if such a thing was possible—at the old nickname that she hadn't heard since she was a girl (did the god before her know she used to be called that? Could Daedric Princes see into the past, wasn't that Akatosh's domain? Was she reading too much into it?) "Would you mind stepping back a few paces? I spent hours getting myself ready, and I'd hate get to get your spatially displaced guts all over this positively lovely dress!" he stood back up, twirling and letting his dress swish freely.

Louise gulped, saying nothing as she hurriedly stepped backwards next to Siesta, who did look as terrified as Louise felt.

Her master telekinetically moved the table he'd been using just minutes prior, carelessly letting the books and writing materials fall to the floor as it moved. The ball of bronze he'd been transmuting rolled forward. It'd have fallen too, had Sheogorath not leaned forward with an enthusiastic whoop and caught it. The demon raised the ball to eye-level, staring at it like it was new toy. "And what is this?"

"A bronze ball," her master answered simply, a plain porcelain tea-set floating through a portal to Oblivion onto the table. "Got a favorite flavor?"

"Anything that didn't come from a bush—dastardly little things," Sheogorath replied, still staring at the ball. Then sniffed the ball. Then he bit the ball. He didn't just clamp his teeth around it. No, he tore a chunk out of it. As if he were eating an apple. "…Detecting a hint of magic," the god said between chews, "but not the standard 'blast fire from your fingertips' magic."

Master Johan hummed, pouring out piping hot tea—that Louise's Noble nose deduced to be chamomile—for him the god to consume. "It's a type of magic very much different from the kind in Tamriel. Would you care for me to explain?"

"Peryite's scaly nipples, no!" Louise tried not to gag at the colorful curse. The god in question took the offered cup without another word, downing it in one gulp and swallowing the rest of the ball whole

"…That is a lovely dress," Master Johan said, drinking his tea like a normal man—or a sane one.

"Isn't it?" his companion shouted jovially. "It's one of Nocturnal's." That must have meant something—more than the fact that one demon god had stolen from another—because Master Johan choked, tea spilling all over the table and himself, eyes widening in…either terror or shock. "Gonna drink that?" Her master slowly shook his head. "Me neither."

The Prince then leaned back propping his heeled feet up on the table. "The shoes are hers too. I got some matching lingerie as well, but I left that back in the Shivering Isles." Louise couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her spine, nor the disgusted groan that spilled through her lips.

There was a sharp crack as the god whipped his head around. Louise froze mid-shudder as the daedra's head whipped around to stare at her, his eyes glowing like molten gold. She wanted to scream, but a quick look at her master—at his calm, reassuring lake-blue eyes—managed to calm her. Sheogorath peered closer at her for a moment, before whirling back around the face Johan.

Louise was tempted to breathe a sigh of relief but forced herself to do nothing. Until she felt a light tapping on her right palm. She flitted her gaze downward; Siesta was still staring fearfully ahead, but her left hand was raised slightly, her index finger slowly tapping her palm. The young mage kept a neutral expression but did lightly squeeze the offered finger.

"I'll be honest," Sheogorath continued speaking to Johan as if nothing happened, "I have my doubts that I can do this thing," he gestured to his dress, "justice."

"Compared to Nocturnal?" her master asked with a cocked brow.

"Naturally." Sheogorath paused, and the sound of tearing flesh and broken bones emanated from the demon. His body changed before their very eyes, his chest expanding, waist shrinking, face contorting, muscles convulsing. In the end, a woman with Sheogorath's features was sitting in his place—and one of her legs was still obscenely hairy.

"I mean," hi—her voice still had the heavy drawl of his male form, "look at these!" she gestured to her chest, "You've seen her! Those things are huge!" The sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones returned, and Sheogorath returned to his male body. "There's no way those are natural." Louise questioned what 'natural' could mean to a shape-shifting god.

"But enough about me." Sheogorath dropped his feet to the ground, leaning forward on the table and baring his teeth at Johan, "Let's talk about you."

Master Johan cocked a brow, "My disappearance from Tamriel?" For a brief, terrifying moment, Louise thought that he was going to explain her role in his and Odahviing's sudden appearance in Tristain. A completely unfounded fear, because her master grunted, "I didn't think you all would care."

"Normally we wouldn't," the god admitted with an easy shrug. "Hero-types tend to just fall off the map after they've cleaned up whatever mess they've had thrust upon them. The most I heard about it was Nocturnal grumbling that Akatosh was a thieving snake." At her master's cocked brow, the Prince laughed, "Right?!" Sheogorath huffed, "Anyway, like I was saying, no one really cared." He smiled then, lips pulling back too far, eyes glowing dangerously bright, "And then good old slime-eyes himself started poking his tentacles at and in every crevice in Oblivion. Flitting in and out like a virgin peeking into a brothel." He held up a finger, "Now, if Hermaeus Mora, of all Daedra, is panicking like a Skeever on Skooma, what does that mean?"

At that, her master smiled. Not a warm one, nor a humored one. The smile that adorned his face was grim and mocking. "That the self-professed 'Prince of Knowledge' doesn't know something."

Sheogorath mimicked her master's smile. "Fancy that." Her master and the demon exchanged glances at that, indulging in some sort of private joke. "After that, Azura stopped torturing whatever poor souls sneezed in her direction and decided to look you up in the stars," he waved his hand flippantly, "or whatever the hell she does. And lo and behold," he leaned back spreading his arms wide, "You'd vanished. Not just died—Hermaeus would have found you before then—but disappeared entirely!"

The god sighed, leaning his elbows against the table, "Then we all started to panic." His face pinched, "Except for Jyggalag—cheeky bastard. He laughed at us and then pissed off to, I don't know, polish his sword, I'd wager. Now I know what you're thinking," the Prince smiled, "and the answer is 'yes'."

Louise managed to not gag at the crass joke.

"After that," Master Johan began slowly, "I'd imagine you all decided to spy on my allies."

"Molag and Vaermina paid a visit to that bloodsucker of yours, yes." Her master paled, a tremor running down his body. "That's how we found out about that mysterious green portal that sucked up you and that pet lizard. Then Sanguine, in one of his drunken flashes of brilliance, laid out a bet."

Her master colored again, and calmly stated, "Whoever finds me first gets some sort of reward?"

"First pick in his weekly orgies for the next Era."

Louise wasn't sure how she expected her master to respond to such a…reward. But she most certainly did not expect him to frown and almost bashfully say, "I didn't think I was worth that much."

"Not really," Sheogorath agreed, "but, again, you'd up and vanished with nary a trace. So, it was more for the challenge than anything else." The god started to dance in his seat, "And I won!" Only to quickly pause, "Oh, forgot to ask if I can bring a guest. Hope I can; it'll be so boring otherwise."

"How did you find me?" her master asked, "And for that matter, how long were you waiting for one of use to say your name?"

"Oh, I've only been here for a week." The god picked his teeth (odd, because they were perfectly formed and clean), "and I wouldn't have found this place had I not caught sight of a dozen near comatose Scamps on some rock floating between the Deadlands and the Shivering Isles."

"They were all from the same area?" Louise thought, "Seems unlikely."

"They were all from the same area?" her master said, "Seems unlikely."

"Blame your soul-donor," Sheogorath said with a lazy wave, "I'm almost positive he's the one behind all this. Why, I can't fathom." The god's mood grew darker, then, the air growing frigid, "Does whatever the hell he wants, that one." Then, as quickly as it arrived, the sour mood lifted (the temperature rising with it). "Still, things tend to work out for the best in the end. Guess that's what happens when you're in charge of time itself." Her master grunted noncommittally.

"Anyway, I just followed the residual magical energy, and here we are." He giggled, "Still, surprised you'd end up in this shithole of all places."

"Shithole!" Louise inwardly shrieked.

"Shithole?" her master calmly repeated.

"Oh, yeah!" Sheogorath said. "Everyone's written it off, even the Aedra; and they normally love taking care of these broken little worlds."

Her master frowned deeply, "I'd have thought you Princes would adore such a world. To assert your will and dominance without interference."

The god blew a raspberry, "Wrong! Things are only fun if there's gods to mess with. I mean," he paused, "there is this one god floating around—a poor man's Talos, by all accounts—but he's the only one here, and he spends most of his time sobbing uncontrollably. Really spoils the mood." It took Louise a moment to realize that he was talking about the Founder. As in, this demon-god had met the Founder Brimir. And the Founder was…deeply depressed? Were she in any other situation she'd follow-up on that.

The two men—the demon-god and demi-god—settled into silence after that. Sheogorath bobbed his head up and down to some tune only he could hear, and her master just stared at him, still as a statue.

"…I take it," her master said after a while, "that I should expect more of these visits upon your return."

"Oh?" the god leaned forward, lips curling into a wide grin, "Do I detect a hint of resignation in that voice of yours?"

"I don't appreciate being mobbed," Johan admitted.

"Wouldn't call it a 'mob'," Sheogorath gestured to her master, "again, you aren't that special." He then shrugged, "But I'm in a good mood, so I won't ruin your fun just yet."

Master Johan cocked a brow, "In exchange for?"

Sheogorath grinned wolfishly, "I do love it when you mortals use those brains of yours." He held a finger up, "First, I want my Wabbajack back. You've done absolutely nothing with it and that's just…the biggest waste."

"…Alright." He summoned a portal to Oblivion, commanding his demon to give him this 'Wabbajack'. The item in question turned out to be a steel-gray staff, the top of it adorned with three screaming faces. Sheogorath tittered excitedly, eagerly grabbing the item. He then spent a solid minute stroking the staff, whispering things like, 'I've missed you,' and 'When we get back home, I'm going to put you to good use'.

Creepy.

Eventually, the god snapped his fingers, banishing the Wabbajack somewhere else. "Second," he began, "I'm going to be owed a favor."

Johan sighed, "Very well. What do you want?"

"Oh, not now! But soon—within the rest of your lifetime, at least—I'm going to call on you for some task that'll come to me. All of you." Louise gulped, her heart leaping up to her throat. Owing a demon? That could only end badly. Although, her Master had apparently done this sort of thing before, so it couldn't be all that bad. Or course, he'd also part god.

"Yup!" Sheogorath leaned back, face split in a wide grin, pointing at Johan, "All one," he turned, pointing to Derflinger, "two," he fixed his molten gaze on Louise, who did her best to keep still, "three," finally, he turned to Siesta, "Fo—Holy hell!" he shrieked, fixing his gaze on the young Commoner. She let out a small 'eep', clutching Louise's hand in a crushing grip—not that she could blame her. "What are those?!" he screeched, pointing at…at Siesta's breasts.

The young girl cast a fearful stare at Johan, who hesitantly nodded. "Those are my…breasts," she said with a heavy blush.

"Like hell they are!" The Prince shouted, "Those are huge!" He peered closer, "Did you just give birth?"

"Wha-No!" Siesta blustered.

"Then why are they so big! That's the only time breasts get that big, right?" He turned back to Master Johan, gesturing to Siesta, "When a woman has to breastfeed?"

Louise was actually comforted by the fact that her master was just as bewildered as they were. "Er…yes…But Siesta has not given birth. Recently or…ever, as far as I'm aware."

Sheogorath turned his wide-eyed gaze back to Siesta, "You're telling me that those are natural?" Siesta just nodded. "…Then what are they filled with?"

…What?

"I mean," he rose from his seat, furrowing his brow as he stared at Siesta "a nursing mother's breasts are so large because they're chock-full of milk. And the more femininely-inclined Daedra can just magic up whatever sized body parts they want—an art I don't really care for, work with what you got, I say." He pointed to Siesta, a dagger forming out of thin air, "So what the hell is in those things to make them so large? It can't—simply can't! —just be the standard flesh and fat mortals both loathe and love."

Siesta had paled, then, paled and was left paralyzed at the Daedric Prince stepped closer and closer, toying with the knife as he leered at her. The god stepped closer; lips split into a blood-curdling grin as he raised his knife high.

"S-Stop!" Louise shouted. She then gasped, realizing what she'd just done.

The air stilled. Sheogorath, who's gaze was fixed on Siesta, shifted his eyes over to stare at Louise. "'S-Stop'?" he mocked. He turned; knife still held high. "That's what you said, right, 'S-Stop'?"

Louise's heart was hammering in her chest, in her throat, blood roaring in her ears. Still, she found it in herself to nod.

"You, in all your feeble, mortal brilliance, cried out for me, a Daedric Prince, someone that can breathe and turn you inside-out, to 'S-Stop'?" Another small, fearful nod. "Why that's…crazy," the god said, his grin somehow getting wider.

Then, as if pulled by strings, Sheogorath dropped his arm, his dagger disappearing, the mad gleam in his eyes fading. "Keep your pants on, I'm not going to do anything to them. Not with the mood spoiled as it is."

Louise grew even more confused, until she looked over at Master Johan. He was staring at them with an indescribable look, but what really caught her attention was the orb of purple lightning he was hunched over. He held the orb between his hands, where it roiled and crackled violently, yet silently. Then, he relaxed. He straightened his back, dropped his hands (dispelling the orb) and heaved a great sigh.

"Weeelll," Sheogorath clapped, "I think I've taken up enough of your time. Ta-t—Woah!" The Prince suddenly fell backwards. Louise flinched, averting her gaze to avoid what would no doubt be a disgusting sight. Only to pause as, instead of…unsavory body part, there was a large cloud of purple mist where his legs should have been. "Oh!" the god leaned over, smirking gleefully, "That's a new feeling!" He turned back to Johan, "Now where was I…right!" He raised his right hand, "Ta-ta!" And with a snap of his fingers, he vanished, leaving behind…a yellow wheel of cheese.

"Is…is that cheese?" Derflinger asked, speaking for the first time since Sheogorath arrived.

"Cheddar," Louise absently replied, recognizing the scent.

Siesta laughed, then. Laughed at the absurdity of it all. And then she sobbed, from the horror of it all. Sobbed so hard she would have fallen over had Louise not knelt down to hold her.

The young mage was at a loss as to what to do—she could hardly begin to process all that had occurred. But she didn't let that stop her from holding onto her friend and soothingly rubbing her back.

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A/N: Hope I did Sheogorath justice. Be sure to leave a review. Later.