Hidden at the bottom of one of the cupboards, shut away in a little chest, somewhere even Liriel didn't ever bother looking, was Madanach's little test of strength. He'd found it lying around after getting back to Markarth after Argis's wedding. He'd no idea where it came from. Did one of the servants drop it? Was it something of Thongvor's, even Igmund's? He had no idea. But he'd shut it away, out of temptation's reach. Obviously giving it to anyone else would have been irresponsible, still less pouring it out into the pool that fed into the stream that ran through the city. So he'd kept it safe and hidden, out of harm's way. Only now and then, he'd get it out and look at it when no one else was around. A little secret. A little test. Proving he wasn't an addict, because if he was, he'd have drunk it by now, right? As it was, it wasn't doing anyone any harm just sitting here.
Madanach got the chest out and unlocked it, tracing his fingers down the little Skooma bottle. See, nothing to worry about. Of course he wasn't addicted. Maybe all the other Cidhna Mine veterans had their troubles, maybe they all had to have their little weekly support meetings and little pins celebrating how long they'd been clean for, their little buddy system. But he didn't need any of it. He'd survived in there longer than any of them, regularly downing the stuff in a desperate attempt to forget his beautiful Eithne being impaled on Ulfric Stormcloak's blade, and he'd managed to avoid addiction. He'd not even tried to find any Skooma once he got out, and even Keirine turning up at Druadach Redoubt, searching everybody, confiscating all their Skooma and tersely pouring it out on the ground hadn't fazed him. The others had whimpered and Borkul had actually screamed and gone for her but fortunately Madanach's paralysis spell had got him first. There'd been a long talk afterwards about the stuff being poison and this being better for everyone and that they'd all get through it together, but if Borkul made one move towards Keirine again, Madanach would gut him personally. Borkul, cowed, had tearfully promised to sort himself out, and the next day the rest of the Cidhna Mine veterans had made a pact that they'd all get clean together. Madanach hadn't joined them, just watching in amusement. He'd been all right. Sure, he'd got the shakes like anyone else but his magic had banished those and he'd had a war to fight. He'd been too busy to think about it.
Well, the war was done and he'd got a capable heir lined up. Not a lot left to do with his life now. The Reach mostly ran itself if he was honest, and never mind the laws he'd had to write and the government he'd had to set up to get things to that state. Nothing to distract him from the emptiness any more.
He stroked the Skooma bottle, smiling at fond memories of Skooma trips past. One drink wouldn't hurt, right? Just for a bit, just to make the darkness go away, just until he stopped loving Liriel. It wouldn't be forever. He didn't need it or anything. He wasn't an addict after all.
Madanach popped the cap off and downed the contents, shivering as the sweet nectar sank down his throat, slow burn warming him up and making all the aches and pains seem to fade away. By Sithis, he'd missed this. Smiling, he sank back into the pillows. Yes, yes, this was better, better than Liriel because he wasn't hurting her or anyone else this way. Much better, so much better.
“Enjoyin' my little preshent?” Sam Guevenne slurred into his ear, although he was in his Dremora form, arms around Madanach, who reached for him without even thinking. Something about those strong Dremora arms around him felt solidly reassuring.
“Yeah,” Madanach whispered. “Yeah, I needed this. You left it here?”
“Course,” Sanguine laughed. “No one'sh ever beaten me inna drinkin' contesht before, not legitit- lezhiti- not properly. Been a long time sinsh I got properly washted. Wanted to get to know you better. A lot better. Without that daughter of yours around. She'sh immune, ya see. Nammi won' let me get at her, which ish a cryin' shame. Can't get at her husband neither, his ma won't never let him out to play, and ya don' mess wiv his ma. But you now... you're gorgeoush.”
Re: Thicker Than Blood 7.7
Madanach got the chest out and unlocked it, tracing his fingers down the little Skooma bottle. See, nothing to worry about. Of course he wasn't addicted. Maybe all the other Cidhna Mine veterans had their troubles, maybe they all had to have their little weekly support meetings and little pins celebrating how long they'd been clean for, their little buddy system. But he didn't need any of it. He'd survived in there longer than any of them, regularly downing the stuff in a desperate attempt to forget his beautiful Eithne being impaled on Ulfric Stormcloak's blade, and he'd managed to avoid addiction. He'd not even tried to find any Skooma once he got out, and even Keirine turning up at Druadach Redoubt, searching everybody, confiscating all their Skooma and tersely pouring it out on the ground hadn't fazed him. The others had whimpered and Borkul had actually screamed and gone for her but fortunately Madanach's paralysis spell had got him first. There'd been a long talk afterwards about the stuff being poison and this being better for everyone and that they'd all get through it together, but if Borkul made one move towards Keirine again, Madanach would gut him personally. Borkul, cowed, had tearfully promised to sort himself out, and the next day the rest of the Cidhna Mine veterans had made a pact that they'd all get clean together. Madanach hadn't joined them, just watching in amusement. He'd been all right. Sure, he'd got the shakes like anyone else but his magic had banished those and he'd had a war to fight. He'd been too busy to think about it.
Well, the war was done and he'd got a capable heir lined up. Not a lot left to do with his life now. The Reach mostly ran itself if he was honest, and never mind the laws he'd had to write and the government he'd had to set up to get things to that state. Nothing to distract him from the emptiness any more.
He stroked the Skooma bottle, smiling at fond memories of Skooma trips past. One drink wouldn't hurt, right? Just for a bit, just to make the darkness go away, just until he stopped loving Liriel. It wouldn't be forever. He didn't need it or anything. He wasn't an addict after all.
Madanach popped the cap off and downed the contents, shivering as the sweet nectar sank down his throat, slow burn warming him up and making all the aches and pains seem to fade away. By Sithis, he'd missed this. Smiling, he sank back into the pillows. Yes, yes, this was better, better than Liriel because he wasn't hurting her or anyone else this way. Much better, so much better.
“Enjoyin' my little preshent?” Sam Guevenne slurred into his ear, although he was in his Dremora form, arms around Madanach, who reached for him without even thinking. Something about those strong Dremora arms around him felt solidly reassuring.
“Yeah,” Madanach whispered. “Yeah, I needed this. You left it here?”
“Course,” Sanguine laughed. “No one'sh ever beaten me inna drinkin' contesht before, not legitit- lezhiti- not properly. Been a long time sinsh I got properly washted. Wanted to get to know you better. A lot better. Without that daughter of yours around. She'sh immune, ya see. Nammi won' let me get at her, which ish a cryin' shame. Can't get at her husband neither, his ma won't never let him out to play, and ya don' mess wiv his ma. But you now... you're gorgeoush.”