Disclaimer: The following story is centered around my own character, Mhari Freysri, who is the only character in this piece that I own. All other characters and elements of the world within the Elder Scrolls series is the intellectual property of Bethesda. This story contains, not just massive spoilers, but is in and of itself one very long spoiler, as it is based off of my playthrough of Skyrim: Special Edition. You have been advised. Please enjoy this newest installment of my cringy fanfiction.


*Music: 'Terrible Fate' - Theophany (from the 'Time's End - Majora's Mask Remix' series)


Mhari blinked through her blurred vision, waiting for something, anything, to come into focus; but her eyes saw only a thick fog unlike any she had ever seen. She'd travelled many journeys through stormy mists and musty fogs, but the atmosphere felt...wrong. She peered through the grey, looking uselessly in all directions for a light; a shadow; anything to give her a hint as to where she had been taken. Her head felt as though it were in a dream-like foggy state; where time was distorted and nonsensical.

Her usual clothes were gone - replaced by quilted pale blue robes with a black leather belt and silver buckle, and upon her head sat the red hat that had been shoved into her mouth before she'd lost consciousness. A brash, familiar voice cut through the air; she whipped her head around to the source of the sound.

"More tea, Pelly my dear?"

"Oh, I couldn't," a gruff, monotone voice replied in what sounded like forced civility. "Goes right through me. Besides I have so many things to do..."

Mhari started to walk towards the sound of the conversation; each movement slow and heavy as if she were moving through molasses.

"...so many undesirables to contend with..."

The monotone voice continued it's cynical reverie as Mhari continued onward.

"...Naysayers. Buffoons..."

Mhari squinted, hoping desperately for something to come into view.

"Detractors. Traitors..."

Finally! Mhari thought excitedly to herself as faint shadows began to appear in the distance as she approached.

"Why, my headsman hasn't slept in three days!"

Mhari had finally arrived at the source of the conversation. In a clearing that seemed immune to the other-worldly fog, stood a long dining table piled with a comical amount of food, the amount of which seemed to cause the table to bow threateningly with the weight of it; plates of stuffed mushrooms, roasted pig, towering piles of dozens of different kinds of cheeses, caramel-covered apples and silver bowls overflowing with bon-bons and berries, and meads and wines of questionable origin were plated haphazardly across it's length. On one long side of the table was a throne-like chair; seated within was a tall, thin man with wild, scraggly snow-white hair that fell just above his shoulders, and a neat, but amusingly-curled moustache and goatee with smatterings of stubble. He wore a two-toned tunic of pink and blood red with a pattern that seemed to shift chaotically in shape; a pattern that Mhari could only describe as 'alive.' His milky white eyes danced in wicked amusement and were focused on his company who sat hunched over in a chair opposite him. Mhari instantly recognized the other man from the painting she had seen earlier. It can't be...

"You are far too hard on yourself, my dear, sweet, homicidally-insane Pelagius," the white-haired man replied, wickedly and yet somehow sympathetically. "What would the people do without you? Dance? Sing? Grow old?"

Mhari watched in confused awe. As she opened her mouth to attempt to speak, she was dismayed to find her voice catching in her throat; as she tried to force out even a single sound, it was almost as if the words would sink like stones back into her subconsciousness.

"You are the best Septim that's ever ruled. Well, except for that Martin fellow, but he turned into a dragon God, and that's hardly sporting," the white-haired man continued, practically rambling at this point. "You know, I was there for that whole sordid affair. Marvelous time! Butterflies, blood, a fox, a severed head...oh, and thecheese! To die for."

Mhari continued to watch the one-sided conversation, uncertain of what to make of the bizarre recounting of the white-haired man.

"Yes, yes," Pelagius III sighed in exhausted irritation, propping his chin on his hand as he leaned on the table, looking as though he would collapse at any moment. "As you've said countless times before..."

"Hafrumph!" the white-haired man exclaimed jokingly, folding his arms in a mocking pout with a stamp of his foot. "Well, if you're going to be like that, perhaps it's best I take my leave!"

"Yes, yes, go," Pelagius III waved his hand lazily as if to shoo his host away. "Leave me to my ceaseless responsibilities and burdens."

"A good day to you, sir!" the white-haired man raised a hand in the air and with a flick of his wrist, Pelagius III vanished in a puff of bright blue smoke and light. "I said good day!"

"How rude!" the white-haired man's head turned to regard Mhari as he spoke. Mhari nearly jumped out of her skin when she blinked and found herself in the chair that Pelagius III had just been sitting in, looking to her host across of the table as he vented to her ironically. "He couldn't even be bothered to host an old friend for a decade or two."

"That man you were just talking to," Mhari began, her head swirling, almost as if she'd had a couple bottles of mead. "Was that-,"

"Pelagius III!" the man finished her sentence, confirming her assumption and only deepening her confusion. She blinked at him, stupefied. "Now surely even you know about Pelagius' decree?"

"Decree?"

"On his deathbed - oh and this was inspired - he forbade..." he began, apparently waiting for Mhari to guess; she shrugged in uncertainty before he continued. "Death!That's right; death! Outlawed!"

"How would that even work...?" Mhari's thoughts trailed off for a moment before she shook her head and returned herself halfway to her senses. "Wait, where even are we?"

"Inside the mind of Pelagius, silly," the white-haired man scoffed as if this fact should be common knowledge. "Oh, is it your first time?"

"Yes, it's my first time; and hopefully my only time," Mhari replied uneasily, wanting to get to the point. "I'm here to deliver a message."

"Reeaaaallllyyyy?" the man grinned, playfully curling the moustache of his goatee upward, raising his eyebrow dramatically. "Ooh, ooh what kind of message? A song? No. A summons? Wait, I know! A death threat written on the back of an Argonian concubine! Those are my favourite."

Mhari looked blankly at the man, blinking incredulously at his slough of mock guesses, wondering if he had truly ever received a message in such a manner; somehow, she felt she would be more surprised if he hadn't. This concerned her even more.

"Well, spit it out, mortal. I haven't got an eternity!" he chortled before pausing as if he'd just remembered something. "Actually...I do. Little joke. But seriously. What's the message?"

"I was asked to retrieve you from your, uh..." Mhari's eyes scanned the table of strange foods and the foggy clearing, surrounded by a circle of stone archways and dead trees. "...vacation."

"Were ya now?" the man leaned forward, his elbows on the table, wresting his chin on his fingers as he laced them together, seeming to practically challenge Mhari to continue. He tilted his head to the side innocently. "By whom?"

"I was sent by-" Mhari started to answer, but was surprised when her hat flung off her head and shoved itself into her mouth.

"WAIT! Don't tell me." the man interrupted, holding up his hands, rising to his feet to pace back and forth as he spoke. "I want to guess."

Mhari let out a muffled grumble as she tried to yank the hat from her mouth to no avail.

"Was it Molag?" the man asked aloud, thinking more to himself than to Mhari. "No no...little Tim, the toymaker's son?"

Mhari furrowed her brow, yanking even harder on the hat that didn't seem to want to budge.

"The ghost of King Lysandus...? Or was it...Yes!" the man pointed at Mhari with a victorious slap on his knee. "Stanley! That talking grapefruit from Passwall!"

Mhari looked at the man with a deadpan expression, having finally removed the hat from her mouth.

"Wrong on all accounts, aren't I?" he shrugged lazily with a grin. "No matter! Honestly, I don't want to know. Why ruin the surprise?"

She glared daggers at the man as she set her hat to the side. The man noticed Mhari's angry expression, and smiled wickedly as he slowly began to rise to his feet.

"But more to the point..." the man's voice became lower; and more sinister as he stepped up onto the surface of the table, taking steps toward Mhari. "Do you - tiny, puny..." Mhari gulped nervously as the man leaned into her face, his milky white eyes peering into her soul threateningly; this was the first time since she'd come here that she felt she was really, and truly, in danger. Her angry expression shifted to one of worry and great discomfort. "...expendable mortal - actually think you can convince me to leave?" the man's smile widened almost unnaturally, practically from ear-to-ear, causing Mhari to sink back into her chair. "Because that's...crazy. You do realize who you're dealing with here?"

"You're a madman," Mhair's words left her mouth before she'd thought it through. She clasped her hands over her mouth and watched the man, uncertain of how he would respond.

"Jolly good guess, but only half-right. I'm a madGod," the man extended his arms out to his sides and lifted his head ceremoniously, basking in his own introduction. "The Mad God, actually. It's a family title. Gets passed down from me to myself every few thousand years."

Mhari let out an involuntary chuckle.

"Now you," the man pointed at Mhari, his finger an inch away from her nose. "You can call me Ann Marie."

"You want me to call you Ann Marie?" Mhari inquired suspiciously.

"Sure, you can call me that if you want," the man began, pausing for dramatic effect. "...but only if you're partial to being flayed alive and having an angry immortal skip rope with your entrails."

Mhari blinked at him, uncertain of how to respond. "I'd...rather not."

In the blink of an eye, the man's demeanor changed from hysterics to that of a suave nobleman.

"Then you can call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness," he said finally, lowering into an exaggerated bow. "Charmed."

Mhari's eyes widened; she had heard of the Daedra in occasional folk stories from back home; but to encounter a Daedric Lord...she found herself equal parts fascinated and terrified.

"So..." Mhari gulped nervously, hoping she wouldn't fall out of the Daedra's favour by pressing the issue. Sheogorath was still bent over in his bow, unmoving. "Does that mean you've leave...? Or not?"

"Now, that's the real question, isn't it? Because honestly, how much time off could a Daedra really need, right?" Sheogorath shot back up into a standing position, tapping his chin as he spoke as though he was giving Mhari's words some serious thought; though, she couldn't tell whether or not he was being sincere or if he was simply toying with her. After a long pause, he snapped his fingers as if he'd come to a decision. "You know what? Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave. That's right - I'm done. Holiday complete!"

"Wait, really?" Mhari asked hopefully, grateful that her task had turned out to be so simple.

"Time to return to the hum-drum day-to-day," Sheogorath let out a forlorn sigh and shrugged. He noticed Mhari relax into her chair slightly before snickering and continuing his thought. "On one condition."

Mhari frowned and her stomach dropped. A condition from a Daedric Prince. Why do I feel like he's just messing with my head?

"Well, that's because I am, mortal!" Sheogorath scoffed with a boisterous guffaw.

"What?" Mhari exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. Can he hear my thoughts?!

"Not important," Sheogorath waved her off, leaving little time for pause before he continued. "My condition is simple - you have to find your way out of this place. Easy!"

"Okay..." Mhari sighed, feeling her fear and frustration rising with every second. She folded her arms in discomfort, attempting to quell her anxiety of what was to come. "What's the catch?"

"Ha!" Sheogorath slapped Mhari on the shoulder with sheer amusement. "Idolove when the mortals know they're being manipulated. Makes things infinitely more...interesting."

"What is it that you want me to do?" Mhari pressed on, genuinely concerned about the answer to come, but ready for this encounter to be over.

"Care to take a look around?" Sheogorath spun around with his arms outstretched to his sides, motioning to their foggy surroundings. "This is not, dare I say, the Solitude botanical gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are?"

Mhari looked around her once more and shook her head as she turned her gaze back to the Daedra. "I assume this wouldn't be the Shivering Isles that your, er...friend mentioned."

"Welcome...to the deceptively verdant mind of the Emperor Pelagius III" the Daedra announced finally, his smile now extending fully from ear-to-ear. "That's right! You're in the head of a dead, homicidally insane monarch!"

"This is what the inside of his mind looks like?" Mhari whispered in fascination. Her excitement grew slightly at the prospect of literally being able to see into the mind of a historical figure; even a mad one.

"Now, I know what you're thinking." Sheogorath began. Out of nowhere, he produced an uncanny, and rather disturbing linen puppet of Mhari in her party robes with button eyes and what appeared to be real human hair and teeth with flecks of blood still speckling them. Raising his speaking voice into a shrill, squeaky mockery of her own, he continued. "Can I still rely on my swords and spells and sneaking and all that nonsense?"

Mhari was too disturbed by seeing herself in Daedric puppet form to respond.

"Sure, sure..." Sheogorath responded to his own question in his original voice. He slyly tucked the puppet behind his back. "Or you could use..."

"I could use...?" Mhari mumbled impatiently, flinching backward as Sheogorath began to step closer to her.

"The Wabbajack!" Sheogorath sang, presenting Mhari with a strange staff, poking her in the nose playfully as he exclaimed. "Huh? Huh? Didn't see that coming, did you?"

Mhari took the staff slowly as Sheogorath waved her away, returning to his seat as he poured a glass of wine, cackling under his breath, contentedly ignoring her at this point.

The staff was short - only about the length of one of her arms - and was made from fine, clearly-enchanted ebony Upon it's head were three extremely-detailed carved faces - one of glee, one of outrage, and one of sorrow - all of which strongly resembled Sheogorath himself, but each was more disturbing than the last as their mouths stretched open into what appeared to be screams. It was strangely heavy in her arms, and just the feel of the ebony on her fingertips made Mhari's skin crawl as she could practically feel the magic of it's insanity seeping into her skin. Whatever I'm to do, I'd best do it quickly. I don't know if I should be in contact with this thing for too long.


*Music:'Fables' - Secession Studios


Mhari looked at the three stone arches surrounding the foggy clearing; each leading to a path into the mists, and each looked completely identical. I suppose I should just choose a direction...

As Mhari passed the threshold of the first archway, the air suddenly grew colder as uncertainty crawled up her spine. The path forward was lined with dead trees and bushes, the only life seeming to be occasional smatterings of glowing torchbugs, but as Mhari peered closer at one of the insects, she noticed they were bizarrely flying upside down, their lights pulsing in unison to the tempo of a slow heartbeat. Mhari slowly started to reach out to touch one.

"A-ha!" the raspy voice of Sheogorath cut through the silence like a knife as he appeared upside down mere inches from Mhari's face.

"DAMMIT!" Mhari cursed as she nearly doubled over in shock. The Daedra's cackling laugh made her flush in embarrassment. He floated in the air upside down, standing as if his feet were firmly planted on the ground. "What was that for?!"

"Oh, I just thought I'd lighten the mood, mortal!" Sheogorath chuckled as he watched Mhari catch her breath, attempting in vain to slow her heart. "You chose an awfully sad path, after all."

"What do you mean?" Mhari asked, tentatively walking forward along the path as the upside-down Daedra floated alongside her, moving his legs as if he were walking naturally on solid stone.

"Pelagius hated many things. Assassins, wild dogs, the undead, pumpernickel...but the deepest, keenest hatred was for himself." Sheogorath explained; Mhari was uncertain as to why he was telling her these things. What does any of this have to do with me finding my way out of this realm?

"The attacks he makes on himself can be seen just beyond that wall of mist."

Mhari peered forward as she neared a second stone archway where she could see nothing but white. With a gulp, she walked through the fog to hear the sound of obscenities and was sounded like a very one-sided fight. In the next clearing were two figures; one was clearly Pelagius himself, standing numbly, his arms to his sides as a second figure, much taller than himself, mercilessly beat him to a pulp.

"Hey!" Mhari called out, rushing forward in an attempt to stop the fight. "Stop hitting-" Her words caught in her throat as she approached them. The figure that was punching the emperor was none other than another likeness of Pelagius dressed in the armour of an Imperial Soldier his face contorted into a hateful grimace as he continued his relentless onslaught of violence. "Stop hitting...yourself?"

"Ha!" Sheogorath guffawed in delight at Mhari's confusion. She scowled at him. "As you can see, the self-loathing enhances Pelagius' anger; but his confidence will shrink with every hit."

As Mhari watched on for a few more seconds, she began to notice that the submissive Pelagius seemed to indeed be shrinking in size.

"Use the Wabbajack and bring the two into balance." Sheogorath said finally, disappearing into thin air, and leaving Mhari alone with the two figures.

Mhari drew the staff and looked at it quizzically. I don't even know what this thing will do... Mhari's eyes darted between the Pelagius' in front of her. Perhaps I should use it on the aggressive one. In case the staff will simply outright kill it's target. Here goes...

Mhari pointed the staff at the angry Pelagius; with a bolt of red light and a puff of red smoke, there was momentary silence. When the smoke cleared, two angry Pelagius' dressed in Imperial armor appeared and began charging to the true Pelagius, much to Mhari's dismay.

"Ack! That's not what I wanted to do!" Mhari scrambled in an awkward panic as the true Pelagius now found himself being beaten by not one, but two assailants, though he still refused to retaliate. Mhari pointed the Wabbajack to the true Pelagius and gulped in anticipation. "If this doesn't work, I'm sorry!"

She allowed the spell to fly to him, once again causing a puff of red smoke. Almost immediately, the two angry Pelagius' shrunk to the size of wild rabbits, and the true Pelagius emerged from the smoke, standing tall, confident and entirely unscathed. After shooing the rabbits off into the fog with a victorious stomp, Pelagius turned to look at Mhari through his blood-shot ghoul-like eyes before rewarding her with a grateful bow. He then faded from her view as the surrounding mists grew thicker until she could see nothing but white. What the hell is happening now?


*Music: 'Vampire Ball' - Takefumi Haketa (from the 'Vampire Knight' anime series)


Before she could act, the mists cleared and she found herself in the dining chair across from Sheogorath once more.

"Wonderfully done!" he sang with an enthusiastic applause. "Pelagius is finally ready to love himself...and continue hating everyone else. But you're not done yet, mortal. Two more paths to go."

Sheogorath motioned an arm lazily to the next stone archway. That wasn't so bad. I can do this. Mhari thought to herself with a renewed sense of confidence.

As Mhari wandered down the next path, she noticed the area looked much the same as the previous one, but this time, the dead trees on either side of the path were floating just above the ground, roots and all, and the upside-down torchbugs now appeared to be dancing, their lights bouncing rhythmically from side-to-side amongst the dead branches of the hovering trees. Mhari suddenly felt her arm yanked to the side. She yelped as she was violently flipped upside-down, being whisked across the path by Sheogorath in a comical and chaotic waltz as he cackled in delight.

"You've headed down the path of dreams." Sheogorath spun Mhari outward, nearly knocking her face-first into a dead tree. She gasped in shock as the patterns in the bark quickly morphed into that of a shrieking man's face, twisted in either pain or anguish. Before Mhari could comprehend what she was seeing, Sheogorath was pulling her back into step. "Unfortunately for you, Pelagius suffered night terrors from a young age."

Mhari struggled to keep the pace in the haphazard dance, the trees around her whirling by in the background beyond the Daedra - they were moving too to make out details, but she could catch glimpses of dozens of faces in the bark and the branches, each more tortured than the last. They bounded into another clearing as Sheogorath released her without warning, nearly sending her flying into the ground. She sighed in exhaustion as she stopped to catch her breath. "For the love of Kynareth."

As she looked around her, Sheogorath was gone. In the center of the clearing was a large, wooden bed whereupon laid Pelagius as he slumbered, but his sleep seemed to be anything but peaceful as his breathing was ragged, and his muscles and limbs twitched restlessly.

"All you need to do is find something wake our poor Pelagius up." Sheogorath's voice could be heard echoing all around the clearing, but Mhari still couldn't see the Daedra anywhere. "You'll find his terrors easy to repel, but persistent."


*Music: 'River of Knives' - David García Díaz and Andy LePlegua (from the video game 'Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice')


Mhari leaned forward and put a hand on Pelagius' shoulder, shaking him gently at first, then a little more firmly when he didn't seem to stir. No matter how loud she raised her voice or how violently she shook him, his eyes remained shut. She sighed and aimed the Wabbajack at him, uncertain as to how this would effect him. "Casting this on you seemed to be the solution last time, so hopefully, this should work."

The red puff of smoke surrounded Pelagius for a second before fading, but nothing seemed to happen. Mhari frowned in confusion, her shoulders drooping in disappointment. "That didn't work...dammit."

As she stood pondering at Pelagius' bedside, she heard what sounded like a low, rumbling growl from behind her. She turned to see a black wolf the size of a horse approaching her; Mhari's stomach dropped as she realized it's eyes were completely white with no pupils, it's fangs spotted with brown flecks of dried blood and decay, but sharp as knives, it's fur, patchy and stringy with what appeared to be infected patches of rotting flesh and pus beneath. What was most disheartening was the white abundance of foam-like saliva dripping from it's mouth that seemed to hiss and sizzle, causing patches of grass to disintegrate as the droplets made contact with the ground.

"Easy, friend..." Mhari put a hand out, attempting to calm the wolf, but she had never seen one this fierce. It lowered before lunging at Mhari with a guttural snarl, snapping it jaws at her, narrowly missing her as she dove out of the way.

It's fine. I'm in Pelagius' mind. Which means none of this is physically real. Mhari thought to herself, trying to ease her nerves. It can't actually hurt me.

The wolf turned and ferociously lunged at her a second time, it's claws dragging across the skin of Mhari's leg as she attempted to dodge it once more. She let out a hiss of shock and pain as a searing sensation shot through her leg.

"There goes that theory," Mhari gulped, trying to scurry backward to create some distance between her and the wolf. As it began to charge her, she held out the Wabbajack and sent a red puff of smoke to connect with the fearsome beast. She clenched her eyes shut, uncertain that her counter attack would work. The air was still and silent for a moment before she opened one eye to see a golden-haired goat with ivory-white hooves and horns where the wolf had just been; grazing around the patches of disintegrated grass. As she approached Pelagius once more, she shook his arm to try and wake him, but he still did not respond. Knowing what she had to do, she took a step back and cast the Wabbajack's spell on his once again, watchful and ready for whatever nightmare awaited her. After a moment of silence, there came a blood-chilling war cry through the mists.

An iron-clad warrior standing thirteen feet tall, wielding an axe that was larger than Mhari herself, came barreling out of the fade, weapon raised as he rushed her. Once again, Mhari took aim and cast the spell. There was a puff of red smoke that connected with the warrior's chestpiece, but to Mhari's dismay, nothing seemed to happen, and the figure didn't even slow his pace as he continued to close the distance between them. Mhari gasped and moved to the side as the axe dropped to the ground where she had just been standing, causing the earth itself to seemingly shake with the force of the swing.

"One blow from that axe and I'm nothing but a stain," Mhari gulped nervously, looking at the Wabbajack. "Why didn't that work?!"

The warrior began to rush her once more. As Mhari narrowly dodged another swing of the axe, she bunted the shoulder plate of the warrior with the end of the staff, causing the plate to fall to the ground and vanish, revealing the scarred skin underneath.

"The armor!" Mhari exclaimed in understanding. His armor is deflecting the Wabbajack's magic!

She pointed the Wabbajack at the warrior once more, aiming carefully, and letting fly another spell. Sure enough, as the magic landed on the patch of skin at the warrior's arm, the telltale red smoke engulfed him, clearing to reveal the likeness of a young Pelagius, sitting cross-legged on the ground as he played with a small knitted axe and a stuffed king doll.

Mhari whipped her head around hopefully to look at Pelagius, but still he slumbered with no signs of stirring.

"Dammit!" Mhari hissed. "How many of these nightmares do I need to fend off?"

In frustration, Mhari cast the spell on Pelagius once more. On the other side of his bed, appeared a Hagraven. Mhari had read about them in stories, but she had never seen one in real life before; the Hagraven would have been nearly seven feet tall if not for the massive hump of her back that caused her to curl in a permanent hunch. Her eyes were black as coals, with no white to be seen, her nose long and curved like a hook, her scalp nearly bald with only tufts of oily grey patches about her head. Where Mhari expected wrinkly fingers, she saw talons that had been doused in old blood and who knows what else, and scattered on the Hagraven's arms and legs were a smattering of course black feathers by which they were known.

To Mhari's confusion, the Hagraven didn't move. She simply stared at Mhari, each of her breaths a dry wheeze as she clicked her talons together impatiently. She isn't attacking me? Mhari cautiously took a step forward, but the Hagraven stayed where she was; Mhari pointed the Wabbajack at the Hagraven, holding it only iches away from her nose - still, no response. Mhari calmly cast the spell and watched the grotesque features of the Hagraven alter and shift to that of a sultry tavern wench with short fire-red hair and a wink in her eye. She smiled knowingly at Mhari and whispered in her ear, "my hero," before turning and sauntering away to sit beside the young Pelagius.

Mhari sighed and pointed the Wabbajack to cast it upon the still-slumbering Pelagius again. In burst of fire and light appeared a somewhat humanoid creature that appeared to consist of fire and black brimstone-like armor; it floated menacingly in the air, it's goat-like horns curving along their head, trailing a plume of fire behind them. A flame atronach. I've only ever seen them conjured up by skilled mages; but there's no mage here for me to defeat. Mhari thought to herself. I'll have to fight it directly.

The atronach started to glide at Mhari hurling darts of fire her way as she narrowly attempted to dodge each blow; Mhari attempted to aim the Wabbajack at her assailant, but the atronach's onslaught of attacks was making it nearly impossible to ensure a clear shot.

"Dammit!" Mhari felt the heat a little too closely as she dove away from yet another attack. Just as she was beginning to feel herself losing her grip on her evasive maneuvers, to her shock, the wolf-turned-goat charged at the atronach and bunted it in the legs, causing it to turn it's attention to the small creature. Wasting no time, Mhari sent a bolt of the Wabbajack's magic hurling at the atronach before it could burn the brave goat to a crisp. With the tell-tale puff of red smoke, a crackling campfire roared where the atronach had been just moments ago. The goat went back to contentedly grazing nearby, ignoring Mhari's presence entirely once more.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Mhari sighed, standing at Pelagius' bedside, looking hopelessly at the sleeping monarch. She raised the staff to point it at him once more and hesitated for a moment before letting out a breath of resignation, and lazily cast the spell. Almost immediately, Mhari felt the fast-approaching heat of an incoming fireball spell, diving away and breaking into a sprint as she looked to where the blow had come from. Floating ominously at the edge of the clearing was what appeared to be some form of Draugr in tattered robes that bore sections of chitin armor, and an ancient-looking stone mask with a tarnished copper circlet set within the material. In one hand, the Draugr bore a wooden staff with a head that curled into that of a fierce-looking dragon, indicating it's use in powerful destruction spells. In it's other hand was a shield-sized ball of raging fire, ready to be hurled at any moment.

Mhari started to attempt to move, but a pit formed in her stomach when her legs refused to respond. It was as if the bottoms of her feet had been sewn to the ground beneath her. No! Mhari began to panic; she could swear she heard the creature chuckling from behind it's stone mask. My only chance is to land the spell before he lands his on me.

The fireball lifted into the air and began to hurdle towards Mhari. With a shout laced with terror and determination, Mhari cast the Wabbajack's spell; she was certain she hadn't cast it in time as for a moment, all she could see was a wall of fire. But the red dart of Daedric magic cut through the fireball like a bullet through smoke and engulfed the Draugr, dissipating the flames around her within seconds.

Where the Draugr had been now sat a large chest with no lock. Mhari's knees buckled beneath her as relief set in and she attempted to catch her breath. In the corner of her eye, she spotted movement coming from Pelagius for the first time. Sure enough, he rose from his resting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed with a stretch and a yawn.

The mists surrounded Mhari as they had done before and she was once again sitting across from Sheogorath, regarding her with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Well, now; that's something to crow about!" Sheogorath nodded in approval as he took a sip of wine. "With Pelagius up and about, we'll both be home in no time. Only one more path, mortal! Chop chop!"


*Music: 'Chasing the Storm' - Patrick Doyle (from the Marvel film 'Thor')


Mhari's shoulders drooped in exhaustion as she dragged her feet to the final stone archway. This path was the strangest of the three; the trees now floated above the ground, upside down with heir roots extending to the sky as strange, black, ink-like strands sifted into the seemingly endless sky above; the faces that Mhari thought she had seen in the trees before were now very clearly detailed, and incredibly well-defined, as if tortured souls were truly trapped beneath the bark, and from the branches of the trees, Mhari noticed the wood was flaking off to fall on the ground, revealing a layer of bright red underneath. Nearly the moment she had walked halfway down the path, Sheogorath appeared, walking beside Mhari in an uncharacteristically normal fashion.

"Oh, this is a good path!" he sang excitedly. "Well, good for me. I find everyone being out to get you so terribly entertaining!"

As Mhari looked around her, she could see no dancing torchbugs, but she could swear she could see eyes in the mists, peering at her, watching her every move. Well, that's troubling.

"You see, Pelagius' mother was, well...let us say 'unique.' Although I suppose in the grand scheme of things, she was fairly average for a Septim," the Daedra sighed wistfully as he continued. "That woman wielded fear like a cleaver. Or...did she wield a cleaver and make people afraid? I never get that part right."

"Both?" Mhari sighed.

"Nevertheless, she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very early age that danger could come from anywhere, at anytime, delivered...by anyone."

Mhari felt a chill crawl up her spine and the sudden urge to watch her back, uncertain as to whether or not she had reason for alarm, or of this emotion was simply another of Sheogorath's influences.

"'The objective is simple, you simpleton!" Sheogorath cackled. "Use your Wabbajack to defeat the enemy"

"Who's the enemy?" Mhari asked. "The shadows in the fog?" As Mhari's eyes darted from white space to white space in the hostile mists, she stumbled on a single, solitary raised root, landing face down in the dirt.

With a curse under her breath, she pulled herself to her feet to find Sheogorath had once again disappeared, and she now stood in the center of a large stone colosseum, the same eyes that she had seen in the mists now spectators surrounding her from all directions. Mhari turned quickly to see one raised seating area a pompous noble dressed in extravagant golden robes and two golden-armoured guards. The noble watched Mhari with a cruel amusement in his eye as he dined on roasted pig and deep-purple wine.

Before she had a chance to dwell any longer, a figure suddenly emerged - a floating, wildly-shifting grouping of large rocks rotating within the dust and debris of a vortex, humming with a constant hum of lightning within - a storm atronach three times her size came barreling out of the mists, sending a bolt of white-hot electricity her way. Mhari gasped in pain as it connected with her arm, feeling the shock course through her body, dropping her to the ground instantly.

As she crouched, stunned and unable to move, the atronach, rushed towards her ominously. As the boulders that formed it's haphazard form lifted into the air, Mhari felt a deep-rooted panic set in as her body refused to respond to her desire to escape. It's going to crush me to paste, and I can't move! Mhari attempted in vain to will her legs back to life, to no avail. No, no, no, no, no.

Mhari clenched her eyes shut, waiting for the dreadful, blunt force of stone breaking over her head, but it didn't come. Warily, she opened her eyes to see the storm atronach frozen in place, a boulder hovering only a hair's length away from her forehead. It trembled as if attempted to shake off the spell, but this gave Mhari just enough time to scramble backward before she felt something pound the ground near her, sending her flying across the arena with a yelp.

She managed to regain her footing and quickly attempted to point the Wabbajack at whatever had nearly crushed her.

Another atronach - one of frost - even larger than the storm atronach, stood attack-ready. It was a faceless, hulking humanoid-creature made entirely of ice and snow, with massive shards of ice tapered to pointed spikes to serve as each arm.

Mhari cast the Wabbajack's spell upon both atronachs, but nothing happened. The storm atronach burst through the ice with a thunderous crash, sending needles of ice clattering across the arena. As Mhari backed away, uncertain of how best to proceed, she heard a loud laugh of amusement from the spectating noble, and she was hit with a sudden realization. "Use the Wabbajack to defeat the enemy..." she whispered under her breath.

She pointed the staff at the noble; as she was about to cast the spell, the storm atronach sent a boulder rolling at Mhari. She yelped in pain as it collided with her arm, knocking the spell off-course, striking instead, the guard to the left of the noble. "Dammit!" she hissed, holding her aching arm with a wince. To her surprise, however, the guards disappeared in a puff of red smoke to reveal two large golden wolves, who immediately descended upon the noble, tearing him limb-from-limb without hesitation. Mhari's stomach turned at the sound of the shrieking man and the monstrous snarling that echoed through the arena. The frost atronach shattered into thousands of pieces of ice; the storm atronach cracked and crumbled into dust, and everything grew silent save for the panting on the wolves above, now lounging full and content in the spectator's area where the noble had once been.

Mhari's vision faded to white as she was transported once more to her chair at the dining table in the clearing.

"Oho! I thought you'd never figure it out!" Sheogorath chuckled in delight, swinging his legs over to dangle at one side of his chair, crossing them casually as he scratched behind the ears of the golden wolves who now sat by his chair, tails wagging happily as he fed them scraps of suspicious meat.

"To be fair, I didn't exactly figure anything out," Mhari sighed, lifting her hand to rub her sore arm, only to find the soreness had faded as if nothing ever happened. "My spell missed my target; that was just a lucky coincidence."

"But you did use the Wabbajack; and the enemy was defeated." Sheogorath waved the wolves away into the mists. "With the threat gone, Pelagius is under the illusion that he is safe, which means you've helped him out. Sort of."


*Music: 'Suite from "Restless": Willow's Nightmare/First Rage/Chain of Ancients' - Christophe Beck (from the 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' television series)


"You said that was the last path, right?" Mhari sighed in exhaustion. She had no sense of time in this place; she felt that she easily could have been there for multiple days, and she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. "Have I fixed Pelagius' mind?"

"Hmmm...'fixed' is such a subjective term. I think 'treated' is far more appropriate, don't you?" Sheogorath tossed a small blue bonbon into the air, effortlessly catching it in his mouth. "Like one does to a rash...or an arrow in the face."

"I feel like there's not much 'treating' an arrow in the face," Mhari spoke with an idle yawn, Sheogorath's nonsense seeming to phase her less and less the more tired she became. "I think you'd just be dead at that point."

"Ah, no matter...Pelagius Septim III. Once the mad emperor of Tamriel, now so boringly sane. I always knew he had it in him." Sheogorath rose from his seat and stretched with a loud groan before propping his hands on his hips and grinning at Mhari. "Heartless mortal that you are, you've actually succeeded - and survived!"

"Heartless?" Mhari frowned, taken aback by the Daedra's choice of words. "How am I heartless? I've helped Pelagius, I've played your game; I'm even helping your servant Dervenin in the process."

The lines around Sheogorath's eyes creased into a wicked, intrigued smile. With a snap of his fingers, the Daedra vanished and reappeared behind Mhari as he leaned in close to her ear, his speaking voice lowering to what sounded like a purr or a demented whisper. "Much pain and suffering is to come; and you will be the one to deliver it."

From behind her, he reached down to her wrists and slowly raised her hands so that she could see her palms. Mhari gasped in horror to see them dripping with what appeared to be dark red blood. She raised her gaze once more to the dining table. What had once been an extravagant display of decadent dishes and desserts, was now piled with offal and gore, a trail of blood leading to Mhari's now bare feet, the feeling of ooze and chunks of flesh and organs squelching between her toes where she stood. She began to shake uncontrollably as her blood-stained hands began to elongate and wrinkle before her eyes, long black claws tearing through the tips of her fingers causing her to let out panicked, gasping shrieks as she rubbed her hands desperately, trying to stop the transformation. As she scratched her talons against the flesh of her arms, practically tearing herself apart, oily black tufts of what appeared to be bristling feathers began to emerge from her wounds. Mhari's ears began to ring as her fear ran rampant, taking over each of her senses until she felt that she could no longer stand it.

But then...stillness.

Mhari's chest rose and fell with residual panic, but the table was once again adorned with steak and wine; there wasn't a drop of blood to be seen, and Mhari raised her arms to see them intact and as human as they had ever been. Sheogorath was now standing in front of her with the same wicked ear-to-ear smile that he'd had before Mhari's vision.

"After all this time spent digging through the mind of a homicidal maniac..." he spoke quietly, leaning forward to once again whisper in Mhari's ear. "I know a nightmare when I see one."

Mhari's lips quivered as she attempted to find the words to respond. Finally, all she could force out, though barely audible was, "you're wrong."

Sheogorath took a step back from Mhari and looked at her in silence for what felt like an hour; his expression now blank and painfully unreadable. He then jumped into a highly-animated shrug and a casual grin, "could be! But I've enjoyed our little game; you mortals just make it so easy."

Mhari frowned, clenching her fists in fury.

"Nevertheless, I am forced to honour my end of the bargain," Sheogorath bent into a comical bow, extending an arm to the side to motion into the mists. "So congratulations; you're free to go."

"Really?" Mhari relaxed slightly, uncertain as to whether or not she should show too much hope.

"I...have been known to change my mind, so...go. Really." The Daedra waved his hand flippantly as if to shoo her away. "Well, I suppose it's back to the Shivering Isles. The trouble Haskill can get into while I'm gone simply boggles the mind."

Who the hell is Haskill...? Mhari thought to herself.

"Let's make sure I'm not forgetting anything. Clothes? Check. Beard? Check. Luggage?" Sheogorath looked to his left, then to his right. "Now, where did I leave my luggage?"

With a puff of grey smoke and light, a new figure came into view in front of the Daedric Prince; Dervenin, looking as disheveled and lost as Mhari remembered.

"Master! You've taken me back!" He exclaimed with an excited wheeze. He rushed forward to Sheogorath, who barely acknowledged his presence; Dervenin gripped onto the fabric of his lord's sleeve as he grovelled. "Does that mean we're going home? Oh, happy times! I can't wait to-"

"Yes, yes, that's quite enough celebration." Sheogorath yanked his arm away with a roll of the eyes. "Let's send you ahead, shall we?"

Dervenin was gone similarly as he'd appeared; in a puff of smoke and light. Sheogorath patted his sleeve with a dramatic sneer and a grumble. He turned his pure white, pupil-less eyes to Mhari and raised an eyebrow as he motioned to the Wabbajack laying on the ground at her feet.

"As for you, my little mortal minion. Feel free to keep the Wabbajack. As a symbol of my..." he began.

"Gratitude?" Mhari asked with a wry one-sided smile. As she opened her mouth to speak further, she found her hat once again shoved into her mouth. She furrowed her brow in irritation, folding her arms in disapproval.

"Oh, just take the damn thing."

Mhari sighed through her nose and reached up to pull the hat out of her mouth, which came much easier this time. "I really wish you'd stop doing that."

"You take care of yourself, now. And if you ever find yourself up in New Sheoth,dolook me up. We can share a strawberry torte." As Sheogorath straightened and placed a hand on the top of his scalp, he lifted his head from his shoulders as if it were merely a hat, and motioned farewell with a flourish and a bow. "Ta ta!"

Before Mhari could react, the mists engulfed her and flooded her senses until she slipped into an otherworldly slumber.

As Mhari regained consciousness, she found herself lying in a musty old fur bed roll on a stone floor in a rather dark room. She slowly sat up, allowing her eyes a moment to adjust. The room appeared to be an abandoned cellar, but judging by the decor and furniture around her, riddled with dust and cobwebs, she could safely assume she was still somewhere in the Pelagius Wing.

"Did I dream the whole thing...?" Mhari muttered absently under her breath. As if to answer her question, her hand bumped an object on her side, rolling an inch away from her with a dull rattle. Beside her lay the Wabbajack, just as she had wielded it in the mind of Pelagius. "I guess not. I wonder how long I've been out."

As Mhari tucked the staff safely into her holder on the side of her pack, she rose to her feet realizing that however long she had been unconscious didn't seem to matter; her exhaustion had not left her.

Wasting no time, Mhari trudged back to the entrance of the Blue Palace and stepped out into the chilly Solitude air. Night had fallen over the glistening city, and nothing could be heard but the sound of crickets and crackling torch fire. Dragging her feet, Mhari made her way back to the Winking Skeever to find it silent and still. I guess I won't be playing for my room tonight.

Mhari knocked at the door of the innkeeper's quarters and waited a moment before Corpulus opened the door.

"Ah, Mhari," Corpulus yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "How can I help you?"

"Sorry to wake you, friend," Mhari whispered, trying not to wake any other patrons. "I just wanted to slip you some gold for a room for the night."

Corpulus took the small amount of gold before sleepily bidding her goodnight, returning to his bed.

Mhari tucked herself into the sheets of the bed in her usual room upstairs, and fell asleep nearly the moment her eyes closed at long last, the panic from Sheogorath's taunting vision fading to feel like nothing but a distant and impossible nightmare; but still she found her dreams would bring her little rest...


~To Be Continued...~


Q A Corner:

What do 'Drem Yol Lok' and 'Voth Werid' mean?

Well spotted, dear reader. If you are relatively new to the world of Skyrim outside of this fanfiction, there are various words you may see me use that are specifically in the Dragon Language (which are often used as 'shouts' in the game, but you will also hear some of the dragons in the game use some of these words and phrases.

'Drem Yol Lok' is used as a greeting; it literally translates to 'Peace - Fire - Sky.' If you've played the game, you've likely heard this phrase used by Paarthurnax.

As for 'Voth Werid,' this simply means 'With Praise. 'I've chosen this phrase as thanks to those who are taking the time to read my work. In that, I praise you for your time.


Note From the Author: Thank you again for reading the latest chapter of Songstress of Skyrim! If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider following this story and dropping a review below. I'd love to hear what my readers think; what their favourite parts were, what they'd like to see more of, etc. If I receive any questions, I am happy to either answer them via private message, or even as a short QA section in the next chapter. I hope to see you in the next chapter, dear reader.

~Voth Werid