“Happen? Oh it already happened, we just need to deal with it,” Madanach laughed bitterly. “My daughter died, and we laid her to rest in the old way, and the pyre will have burned down by now and someone who isn't me will be gathering Kaie's ashes into an urn so we can take them back to the Reach for burial at her birthplace, and a little scattered in the nearest water. Then I get on with a life that doesn't have my Kaie in it...” He stopped, head in hands and still not facing her, shuddering as he composed himself. Liriel said nothing, just reaching out to rub his back and he seemed to take some comfort in that.
“I lost my daughter,” he finally said, still not looking at Liriel. “I'm a father mourning a child. But it's more than that, Liriel. I'm also a king... and with Kaie gone, I don't have an heir.”
Liriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She recalled what Argis had said – he was Crown-Prince until a legitimate heir turned up. An heir ready to succeed Madanach in twenty years and all she could give him were Altmer babies who wouldn't even be adults for another fifty and no one in their right mind gave anyone under a hundred any real responsibility.
“But it's all right, I've been thinking about it,” Madanach continued, getting up and joining her on the bed, talking fast, all nervous energy and more than a hint of desperation. “We'll need to get married, soon, and get to working on an heir right away – well, we don't need to wait for the wedding for that. Get you pregnant, get the child born, raise it as best we can – Altmer come of age at fifty, don't they?”
“You're not going to live another fifty years!” Liriel whispered, heart breaking. Madanach had an arm around her, squeezing her hand.
“I know,” he said softly. “But Imperial law allows a wife to inherit her husband's title and land if there's no heir – Elisif did it. You'll rule after me, and you can step down in favour of our child when you feel they're ready. The only other option is Argis and his line, but he's a Nord marrying a Nord and I'm not handing my country back to them in one generation, I'm just not.”
“Madanach...” Liriel began, feeling her pulse race and her blood pound and her head spin. “Madanach, I – I can't...”
“I know it's quicker than you might have wanted but it's the only way, Liriel, please – Liriel?” He'd finally stopped and was looking up at her, going very still as he realised she was shaking all over, tears on her cheeks. “Liriel? What's wrong? I thought you wanted children...”
“You can't have a kingdom of humans ruled by Altmer,” Liriel whispered. “The Thalmor would be all over the place and even if they weren't, everyone else would think they were running the show. It'd be a hundred years before any child of ours was remotely ready to take over, maybe longer. And then they'd live for centuries! I thought the idea was that Reachmen ruled the Reach??”
“Well the Nords saw an end to that, didn't they!” Madanach shouted. “I had four beautiful little girls and I lost them all, one way or another. So I need a legitimate heir and if they can't be full Reach-blooded, I'll settle for half – we're descended from Altmer, it's better than Nord blood.”
“You would give your people a god-king,” Liriel breathed, because she knew that was what would happen, they revered her enough already, give them several generations of the same unageing, undying, golden-skinned ruler? It'd be the Tribunal of Morrowind all over again. Madanach didn't seem to care.
“I don't mind fathering a god,” he said, faint hint of a smirk on his face, and that was so very typical of him, to laugh when he'd not be the one living with it. And it wasn't just the Reach who'd suffer either.
“I mind!” Liriel cried. “If I have a child with you, I can never go home again!”
She stared at him as it hit home – if she had his child, she might as well mourn her parents now. They'd forgive her coming home in forty or fifty years having married a human who'd died – a youthful fling with a human would be ignored, swept under the rug, acted as if it had never happened, everyone made mistakes while young. But a child... a child couldn't be ignored, and she knew exactly what her staunch Thalmor mother would say to a half-blood grandchild.
Re: Nightshade and Juniper 19.9
“I lost my daughter,” he finally said, still not looking at Liriel. “I'm a father mourning a child. But it's more than that, Liriel. I'm also a king... and with Kaie gone, I don't have an heir.”
Liriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She recalled what Argis had said – he was Crown-Prince until a legitimate heir turned up. An heir ready to succeed Madanach in twenty years and all she could give him were Altmer babies who wouldn't even be adults for another fifty and no one in their right mind gave anyone under a hundred any real responsibility.
“But it's all right, I've been thinking about it,” Madanach continued, getting up and joining her on the bed, talking fast, all nervous energy and more than a hint of desperation. “We'll need to get married, soon, and get to working on an heir right away – well, we don't need to wait for the wedding for that. Get you pregnant, get the child born, raise it as best we can – Altmer come of age at fifty, don't they?”
“You're not going to live another fifty years!” Liriel whispered, heart breaking. Madanach had an arm around her, squeezing her hand.
“I know,” he said softly. “But Imperial law allows a wife to inherit her husband's title and land if there's no heir – Elisif did it. You'll rule after me, and you can step down in favour of our child when you feel they're ready. The only other option is Argis and his line, but he's a Nord marrying a Nord and I'm not handing my country back to them in one generation, I'm just not.”
“Madanach...” Liriel began, feeling her pulse race and her blood pound and her head spin. “Madanach, I – I can't...”
“I know it's quicker than you might have wanted but it's the only way, Liriel, please – Liriel?” He'd finally stopped and was looking up at her, going very still as he realised she was shaking all over, tears on her cheeks. “Liriel? What's wrong? I thought you wanted children...”
“You can't have a kingdom of humans ruled by Altmer,” Liriel whispered. “The Thalmor would be all over the place and even if they weren't, everyone else would think they were running the show. It'd be a hundred years before any child of ours was remotely ready to take over, maybe longer. And then they'd live for centuries! I thought the idea was that Reachmen ruled the Reach??”
“Well the Nords saw an end to that, didn't they!” Madanach shouted. “I had four beautiful little girls and I lost them all, one way or another. So I need a legitimate heir and if they can't be full Reach-blooded, I'll settle for half – we're descended from Altmer, it's better than Nord blood.”
“You would give your people a god-king,” Liriel breathed, because she knew that was what would happen, they revered her enough already, give them several generations of the same unageing, undying, golden-skinned ruler? It'd be the Tribunal of Morrowind all over again. Madanach didn't seem to care.
“I don't mind fathering a god,” he said, faint hint of a smirk on his face, and that was so very typical of him, to laugh when he'd not be the one living with it. And it wasn't just the Reach who'd suffer either.
“I mind!” Liriel cried. “If I have a child with you, I can never go home again!”
She stared at him as it hit home – if she had his child, she might as well mourn her parents now. They'd forgive her coming home in forty or fifty years having married a human who'd died – a youthful fling with a human would be ignored, swept under the rug, acted as if it had never happened, everyone made mistakes while young. But a child... a child couldn't be ignored, and she knew exactly what her staunch Thalmor mother would say to a half-blood grandchild.