Meryndor sank back onto the stone seat, head in his hands. He'd not meant to say all that, not meant for it to go that far, definitely not meant to bring up his own youthful adventures, hadn't wanted to hurt her... but dammit, someone needed to say it. She clearly hadn't fully realised where her choices were taking her. That's if she'd chosen freely, of course – unplanned sex with an older man (relatively speaking) after she'd only meant to comfort him didn't sound that freely chosen to Meryndor, and frankly the whole having Madanach assassinated idea was starting to sound less and less of a bad one.
A shadow fell over the table and magic rippled nearby as two human hands materialised on the table in front of him. An old man's hands but with fine robes attached and Meryndor looked up into Madanach's soulless silver eyes.
“How dare you speak like that to her, elf,” Madanach said softly. “I don't care if you're her father or not, no one treats my wife that way. We're empathy-bonded, did you know that? I can feel her!”
Meryndor hadn't known that, and part of him was intrigued – old Alinorian tales spoke of married couples being so close that they knew instinctively where the other one was and if they were in trouble, and he idly wondered if they'd had matrimonial empathy bonds that the secret of which had been lost. But with Madanach glaring at him, he had more pressing concerns.
“Did you have it in place when you took her virginity?” Meryndor growled. “No, of course not – if you had, perhaps you'd have realised she didn't want you.”
Madanach's eyes had narrowed even further.
“I'll spare you the details, elf, but believe me, she wanted it. She tried to fight it for ages, but she came back in the end. I didn't think she would, but she's always able to surprise me.”
“What could she possibly see in you,” Meryndor snapped at him. Madanach just grinned, a small gloating smile on his face.
“Apparently Reachmen do it for her. Considering you apparently had a fling with Kaie ap Faolan after she fled into exile, I daresay she inherited that from you.”
“You bastard,” Meryndor swore, getting to his feet and wishing he knew more Destruction magic, because burning this fetcher's face off was seeming like an excellent plan.
“Kaie ap Faolan, well done,” Madanach said thoughtfully, not backing down an inch. “Legendary witch of the Reach, a rebel leader in the early Third Era, it was her uncle slit Tiber Septim's throat, you know. Sadly he survived, but we can't have everything. They nearly caught her but she got away, fled over the border into High Rock, organised the rebel effort from there. Pity you didn't stick around. You could have helped. Sure you aren't Dragonborn, but I think you're a very smart man. I think you might have got us the Reach back rather sooner than we managed on our own.”
“Shut up,” Meryndor growled. “She meant nothing to me. It was centuries ago.”
“It always means something to an Altmer,” Madanach said knowingly, cruel eyes saying exactly who'd said those words to him in the past. “Or was that another lie you told your little girl along with all the other pretty falsehoods you raised her on?”
“You know nothing about Altmer,” Meryndor hissed, face mere inches from Madanach's.
“Not when I first met her, no, and it nearly cost me dear,” Madanach said, gloating grin vanishing. “But I have been learning, Meryndor, and I'm mostly learning that what a people believe about themselves bears little relation to reality. Nords think they're honourable warriors, but I've seen unimaginable cruelty and trickery from alleged true Nords. Imperials think they're urbane and civilised, but they're actually the kinkiest of the lot. We Reachmen think of ourselves as fun-loving tricksters, but I think that's because most of us didn't live long enough to grow out of it. And as for you people... monogamous virgins waiting for your one true loves and only loving mer? There's a lot of half-blood children in Cyrodiil, elf.”
“Shut. Up.” Meryndor growled, this close to actually shocking Madanach to death. He was old, older humans had weak hearts, right? Wouldn't take much, right? Right?
Re: Thicker Than Blood 5.11
A shadow fell over the table and magic rippled nearby as two human hands materialised on the table in front of him. An old man's hands but with fine robes attached and Meryndor looked up into Madanach's soulless silver eyes.
“How dare you speak like that to her, elf,” Madanach said softly. “I don't care if you're her father or not, no one treats my wife that way. We're empathy-bonded, did you know that? I can feel her!”
Meryndor hadn't known that, and part of him was intrigued – old Alinorian tales spoke of married couples being so close that they knew instinctively where the other one was and if they were in trouble, and he idly wondered if they'd had matrimonial empathy bonds that the secret of which had been lost. But with Madanach glaring at him, he had more pressing concerns.
“Did you have it in place when you took her virginity?” Meryndor growled. “No, of course not – if you had, perhaps you'd have realised she didn't want you.”
Madanach's eyes had narrowed even further.
“I'll spare you the details, elf, but believe me, she wanted it. She tried to fight it for ages, but she came back in the end. I didn't think she would, but she's always able to surprise me.”
“What could she possibly see in you,” Meryndor snapped at him. Madanach just grinned, a small gloating smile on his face.
“Apparently Reachmen do it for her. Considering you apparently had a fling with Kaie ap Faolan after she fled into exile, I daresay she inherited that from you.”
“You bastard,” Meryndor swore, getting to his feet and wishing he knew more Destruction magic, because burning this fetcher's face off was seeming like an excellent plan.
“Kaie ap Faolan, well done,” Madanach said thoughtfully, not backing down an inch. “Legendary witch of the Reach, a rebel leader in the early Third Era, it was her uncle slit Tiber Septim's throat, you know. Sadly he survived, but we can't have everything. They nearly caught her but she got away, fled over the border into High Rock, organised the rebel effort from there. Pity you didn't stick around. You could have helped. Sure you aren't Dragonborn, but I think you're a very smart man. I think you might have got us the Reach back rather sooner than we managed on our own.”
“Shut up,” Meryndor growled. “She meant nothing to me. It was centuries ago.”
“It always means something to an Altmer,” Madanach said knowingly, cruel eyes saying exactly who'd said those words to him in the past. “Or was that another lie you told your little girl along with all the other pretty falsehoods you raised her on?”
“You know nothing about Altmer,” Meryndor hissed, face mere inches from Madanach's.
“Not when I first met her, no, and it nearly cost me dear,” Madanach said, gloating grin vanishing. “But I have been learning, Meryndor, and I'm mostly learning that what a people believe about themselves bears little relation to reality. Nords think they're honourable warriors, but I've seen unimaginable cruelty and trickery from alleged true Nords. Imperials think they're urbane and civilised, but they're actually the kinkiest of the lot. We Reachmen think of ourselves as fun-loving tricksters, but I think that's because most of us didn't live long enough to grow out of it. And as for you people... monogamous virgins waiting for your one true loves and only loving mer? There's a lot of half-blood children in Cyrodiil, elf.”
“Shut. Up.” Meryndor growled, this close to actually shocking Madanach to death. He was old, older humans had weak hearts, right? Wouldn't take much, right? Right?