"Fetcher!"
Amelie threw her hands up in dismay and tried to quell the panic clogging up her chest. She had been existing in a strange detached state of disbelief for the past three days; and now she had finally tried to fix her mistakes, nothing was happening. At least she could fall back on swearing. Her Illusion tutor of the Winterhold College had always liberally peppered his lectures with Dunmeri swear-words.
"Son of a cliff-racer whore!" she finished her tirade with a heavy exhale of breath. As a young girl, in Daggerfall no less, it had been quite difficult to get a hold of good swears, and alcohol. Skyrim had both in plenty.
In truth, Daedric Rituals were a gap in Amelie's education that she had always been nervous about filling. Daedra Cults were probably the most frowned upon subject in Tamriel, and mages in Skyrim got enough crap as it was without seeking out Daedric Princes for education purposes. Therefore, it was possible she had been frantically summoning for the past fifteen minutes quite incorrectly. But what else was there to do? She had dragged her bed across the room, to make space for the summoning circle; she had brewed a thick, reddish paste to use as paint, dug up soul gems… and she had even made a makeshift shrine, though it was now kicked over in a fit of pique.
The bedroom floor was stained red with summon symbols, copied from the one text that Amelie possessed on such purposes. She had no idea how to clean it off again, and really wasn't looking forward to explaining the mess to Lydia.
"You fetching mammoth-lover!" she bleated, impotently. "Lord Sheogorath… Argh!"
"Mammoth-lover", that one was Onmund's. Let it be known that what a Mage lacks in combat prowess he will certainly make up for in colourful swears. "If you don't show yourself soon, Prince. I'll… I'll…"
What would I do? Amelie scolded herself. What could anyone, even the Dragoborn, do to one of the Princes? But before Amelie could ponder how she would go about dismembering the Daedric Prince of Madness- and possibly skinning him for causing her so much trouble- there was a sudden flash of heat that almost blinded her. An otherworldly sound of something tearing was accompanied by a thick, burning smell. A portal, Amelie realised, her voice dying in her throat. All her anger, and impressive mastery of colloquialisms, crumbled away like so much ash in her throat and she choked instead.
Standing in her modest bedroom, inspecting his nails with a bored expression, was Lord Sheogorath: Daedric Prince of Madness. Looking very out of place. It was a contrast to see someone so extraordinary in so mundane a place as her sleeping quarters.
"You'll what?" The Prince drawled, in a disinterested voice. Amelie felt a little disappointed, as well as fearful. They had met before, within the reaches of Pelagius' Mind, and Lord Sheogorath had gifted her with the Wabbajack. Perhaps he didn't remember, and why would he? He had bigger things to ponder than mortals, she supposed- even semi-divine ones like the Dragonborn. Lord Sheogorath looked exactly how she remembered him. His white sightless eyes gave off the impression of blindness, though this wasn't so; and he was attired in beautifully embroidered purples and fine, rich cloth.
"You'll what?" The being prompted again, looking up to meet her eyes and raising his brows severely in a manner that resembled a stern schoolmaster.
Amelie found herself fumbling for words, for her instinctual High Rock wit and grace. Never before had it failed her and, she became acutely aware that, if she were to offend Sheogorath... it would be the last thing she ever did. She pictured Kodlak and forced the image to the front of her head, determinedly recalling the depressing state of Carlotta and Bjorn in the past few days, and how it was all her fault. She much preferred Carlotta's long, boring speeches about "all the men of Whiterun being in love with her" to her despairing tirade about "her lost babies!"
"It's not good to keep me waiting!" Sheogorath told her, in a sing-song voice. "I might wander off!"
"My lord," she managed at last. "I... it's about the children."
"The children?" Sheogorath repeated. "Ah yes! Oh what to do with them... poor things." He shrugged his shoulders and strutted back and forth. "You made a mistake or two there, didn't you?"
"Did you take them, then?" Amelie asked. "My lord... after I asked you to?"
"Me?" the Prince turned to her and grinned. "A thief? Me?! You've summoned the wrong Daedric Prince, missy! Must be looking for Nocturnal!"
"I'd like them back, if it's all the same to you," Amelie continued, neither confirming nor denying an accusation of stealing. Lord Sheogorath was smiling like he knew a secret she didn't. She walked forward as if to implore him, then fell back, remembering who he was. Amelie hated the feeling of being scared, or weak. Usually she was the most powerful being in the room, but then rooms did not usually contain Daedric Princes.
"What's said..." Sheogorath told her. "Is said."
"That isn't fair," Amelie told him.
"So many dear mortals make deals, dear mortal! They want this done, they want that done! If I let them go back on their words willy-nilly, where would I be?!"
"Where, my lord?"
"In a right pickle, Dragonborn!" Sheogorath finished, hotly. "That's where!"
She wondered if she should grovel. But Amelie wasn't very good at grovelling. "P-please, my lord," she attempted. A small part of her brain was screaming, Oh Divines! A Daedric Prince in my bedroom! but she ignored it. "Where have you taken them?"
Sheogorath's expression turned sly, his smile fox-like and coy. "You know very well where they are, Dragonborn." And he scoffed when her shoulders slumped. "It's only forever! That's not long at all, by my reckoning..."
"Lord Sheogorath," said Amelie. "You proclaimed me as your Champion-"
"I have many champions." he cut her off, irritably. "Where is my old staff, anyway?"
"Does not a good favour deserve a good favour in turn?" She demanded, as demure and submissive as her flighty nature would allow. It seemed to amuse Sheogorath, who knew the ins and outs of every mortal he had the chance to meet, and all their true colours.
"You should go back to High Hrothgar, Dragonborn!" the Prince was good with subversion and distraction: and would ramble on endlessly if given the chance. "Go back to yourself! Your identity! Haven't you noticed it missing? What's a dragon-slayer, without dragons to slay? Forget about the children!"
"I. Can't," it was only Amelie's self-control that kept her from replying with a far more scathing insult. The Daedric Prince of Madness, lecturing about identity? In truth his words stung her, because they hit a nerve that was far deeper than the Dragonborn realised. "A favour," she carried on, doggedly. "One favour. Surely I deserve that, my Lord. It was a mistake. A cra... a foolish misunderstanding."
"Very well,"said Sheogorath, enjoying the way Amelie's dark eyes widened and the way her mouth flopped open in surprise. She thought that he was going to give the children back? Well... No. He wasn't. "You did help me out with my old chum Pelagius... Yes... a favour..." he reached his hands deep into his pockets, pulled something out. "A gift," he explained.
A crystal ball, bright and clear.
"If you turn it a certain way," Sheogorath was telling her, pressing the ball into her hands. It weighed almost nothing. "It will show you your dreams." She caught a glimpse of herself, of blood and fire and black wings, and shuddered. The Prince had closed his hands over hers and boring a hole in her head with his eyes. "But!" he barked, suddenly. Amelie flinched. "This isn't a gift for a lowly girl who takes care of bratty children. If you want it, and the dreams... forget them. Simple."
Blessed is the Madgod, who tricks us when we are foolish, Amelie remembered the words from a book she once read. It would be foolish to take the trinket, for that was all it was. But his voice thrummed in her mind and all around her. The crystal sat still and light in her hands and showed her how great and powerful the Dragonborn could be. Without knowing it, Amelie had shut her eyes and begun to reminisce. Sheogorath planned to leave her with the crystal and return to his realm. Perhaps her failure would send her mad! A mad Dragonborn! Something worth seeing!
Thunder rattled the window-shutters and a streak of lightning lit up the room. Amelie's pulse raced and her blood pounded, and she clutched the crystal so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Deep within her she felt a burdening urge to shout, but refrained. She could hear the rain slamming into the windows, and peals of thunder, and flinched again. Her eyes flew open.
"I want the children back, my lord" she told the Prince. "Not a trinket."
"Don't defy me," Sheogorath smiled but his tone was very low, very ominous.
"A dovah answers to no one," Amelie found herself growling, in a voice she didn't quite recognise. "Not even a god!"
"I wonder what a dovah's entrails look like!" Sheogorath threatened back. Amelie stumbled away from him and dropped the crystal. It didn't shatter as might have been expected, but disappeared into a puff of smoke. Smoke and mirrors, Amelie told herself regretting her moment of arrogance.
"You're no match for Us," Sheogorath seemed to read her thoughts and smirked. Amelie thought she might have seen a flash of Someone Else for a moment. She couldn't be sure. "But I'll tell you what..." he took her hand.
"We'll play a game shall we?" She was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness, blinded by the brilliant purple of a portal that ripped itself open to suck them inside. Her vision blurred. Amelie thought she might have heard the Madgod laugh as the world tumbled into blackness.
Amelie woke with no sense of time or space, blinded and baffled by the blazing sun above her. She was on her back sprawled on dry cracked ground that burned her through her robes. A hand suddenly appeared before her and she grabbed it without hesitation, thankful for the strength that pulled her to her feet. Not so thankful that the hand was attached to the arm of the Madgod who looked dangerously excited. Amelie turned around and saw a floating portal, and through it was her bedroom in Breezehome.
It had no mark of her summons attempt and everything was back in place, the bed even neatly folded. In the other direction lay a labyrinth that stretched as far as the eye could see. And, like a brilliant jewel, in the very centre of cracked stone maze, was a palace. It seemed to be constructed entirely of red and purple crystal. She almost couldn't look at it, it shone so brightly in the sunlight.
"Do you like it?" Sheogorath asked her quietly. "You should! I've just spent three days re-arranging New Sheoth! My citizens aren't pleased, I tell you! They don't like change... Well, some of them do. But the other half? Outraged!"
"W-what? Three days?" Amelie turned her eyes from the dazzling palace in the distance to the portal. She saw that the bed seemed to not have been laid in for some time, as well as being neatly made. "I've been out for three days?"
"Yes," Sheogorath replied. "Do keep up. Now. This game of ours-"
"What game?" Amelie snapped. "I need the children back!" She realised she still gripped the Madgod's hand in hers and quickly let go, now she could stand. Sheogorath's other hand rested on a cane which he leaned on with cavalier carelessness. "I need the children back, my Lord." she tried again.
"They're there in my palace," he replied dismissively. "Past all the mazes and the madmen!" and then his voice turned sly. "Are you sure you want to look for them?"
"You- You made all this?" Amelie breathed a sigh of exasperation. "This maze? I have to get through this giant- fuck." She swore. "That's... that's not fair. Why not save yourself the trouble and simply return them?"
"Where would be the fun in that?" Sheogorath sniffed. "Besides, the boy- the littlest mortal- Kodlak. I like him. He'll make a fine heir."
"Don't you dare touch him!"
"I'll do what I like!" The Madgod seemed to grow in size and loom over her, a dark expression finally crossing his face as he lost patience. "This is my realm, lass! And my rules! And if you don't like it!" And then, he shoved her roughly, closer towards the portal that would lead her home and away from hardship. "Then cheerio!"
Amelie caught her balance and straightened. She wouldn't be bullied, not even by a God.
"What do I have to do?" she asked in a low voice.
"You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth," Sheogorath told her, bowing formally. "Before the children become mine. Forever. Such a pity! I suggest turning back, Dragonborn. Amelie. Before it's too late."
"I can't." Amelie growled. "And I won't."
"A pity," Sheogorath replied, simply. "Ah!" he waved his hand. "It's only fair, as you mortals say, that I even the game a little. I've left you a few presents in the Labyrinth here and there."
Then, he smiled. "Oh! Nothing like the gift of giving!"
Amelie turned her back on him. She stared out at the Labyrinth, at it's enormous, sheer walls, covered with bursts of bright flowers and butterflies, covered with dark swampy vines in other places. "Time is short," Sheogorath prompted.
"Doesn't look that far," she tried bravado.
"Oh, it's further than you think!"
"And I'm more powerful than you give me credit for," Amelie sneered back, stomping away from the portal, away from Sheogorath. There was a dark, worn path that led across the barren desert to the gates of the Labyrinth, as good a starting point as ever.
"Such a pity," she heard the Mad God murmur. And when she turned around a minute or two later, the portal and the Prince had disappeared into thin air.
Next chapter up later tonight/early tomorrow. Do review! Cheese for everyone~