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"Behind Closed Doors" M!DB/Balgruuf 2/7

Date: 2013-01-20 07:49 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
“Was he thrashed?”

Balgruuf folded his arms, “Yes, and the rudeness ceased. But he’s just holding back. All this is a symptom; I sense something’s gone terribly wrong.” He looked up at Dyce, “Not the sort of problem you’re here to handle, I’m afraid.”

“No,” Dyce said slowly. “But I’ll give it a try, if you’ll permit me.”

“I’m at my wit’s end. You’re welcome to try.”

Dyce inclined his head and turned to go.

“He’ll be in bed by now,” Balgruuf said.

“He’s not.”

~~~
Dyce found Nelkir on the second floor of Dragonsreach, leaning over the balcony and watching those below who were still in the dining hall. Dyce had been prowling, as silently as a cat, and he watched the boy for a few minutes before approaching him.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Nelkir jumped as Dyce appeared beside him.

“What are you doing up here?” Nelkir said sharply. “Did that disgusting pig send you to bother me? One day I’ll tear his face apart so he can leave me alone.”

Dyce’s eyebrows went up with every word the boy said. The Jarl hadn’t been kidding when he said something was deeply troubling about his younger son.

“My father doesn’t know anything about me. But I know about him, about the war. More than he might think.” Dyce sensed that Nelkir had a lot of words and thoughts bottled up, and keeping them to himself had taken it out of him.

“What sort of things?”

“That he still worships Talos. And that he hates the Thalmor as much as the Stormcloaks do.”

Really?” Nelkir looked at him curiously as Dyce grinned. Well, if nothing else, he got some good news out of this situation.

“And.” Nelkir hung his head. “Um.”

The heart of the matter.

“Spit it out, Nelkir,” Dyce suggested gently. “You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t have the same mother as my brother and my sister.”

Dyce sighed. He had no idea if that was true or not, but what mattered was that Nelkir believed it. “They’re still your brother and sister,” he pointed out. “Your father is still your father. How do you know all this anyway?”

“This castle is old. Lots of places to hide, and overhear things. And see things. And the Whispering Lady.”

“And who’s she then?”

“She won’t say. But at the door in the basement, I can hear her whispering to me. She tells me even more secrets.”

“And you believe her?” Dyce asked.

“If you hear her, you would too. Trust me.” Nelkir was looking directly at him now, like they were co-conspirators, hunched in the shadows above the brightly lit dining hall.

“I suppose we’ll just have to see,” Dyce said, thoroughly creeped out by the whole thing. He wouldn’t go back to Balgruuf just yet; he wanted to hear this Whispering Lady for himself.

Nelkir smirked at him as Dyce made his way downstairs, through the kitchens, and into the basement. Among the barrels and sacks and bottles, there was indeed a dark door, right at the back. Dyce snatched a candle from the kitchen and approached the door.

Locked.

Feeling like he was putting his neck on a chopping block, he pressed his ear to the aged wood, wax dripping onto his fingers.

At last. Dyce flinched. I’ve been waiting for someone more fit to carry out my will.

Dyce bared his teeth in a grimace of disgust, but he didn’t move.

I forgive you for not knowing who I am. Few hear my whispers anymore. I am Mephala, the Lady of Whispers. Dyce hoped she couldn’t read the expression on his face. She went on. They always went on. The assumption that a mortal, whoever he or she might be, would unhesitatingly obey them made Dyce’s neck prickle.

They were creatures of their natures, he realised. They could be no other way.

“What do you need me to do?” he whispered.

First you must open this door. A piece of my power has been locked away. She wanted him to have it, of course they did. In some dumb, dim way, they had to sense the dragon souls he ate, and they wanted a piece of his power. The Jarl’s court is right to fear the power I hold behind this door. The Jarl trusts few, and they will be his undoing. The dark child knows of what I speak.

Dyce pulled away, and returned to the light.

“The Jarl trusts me too,” he said to himself.

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