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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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“Court is closed, Nepos!” Madanach shouted back. “Can't it wait?”

“It's more of a personal call,” Nepos answered and Madanach got wearily out of bed. It had better be extremely important, and unless Eola or Argis needed something, whoever was fool enough to interrupt his evening was in for short shrift. Sithis help him, if this was Cicero's doing...

He wrenched the door open, eyes narrowed... and his mood didn't improve on seeing his father-in-law waiting behind Nepos, golden eyes like Liriel's glaring at him. Oh good. Exactly what he needed.

“If it's about your wife, she's not being released until tomorrow,” Madanach growled. “I don't care if you've got the coin with you, I don't care if you're offering sexual services along with it, your wife for once in her life is spending a night actually being held accountable for her actions.”

Meryndor's eyes had gone even more glacial.

“May I speak with my daughter,” Meryndor said coldly. “I presume you're not keeping her locked up in a cell overnight.”

Which promptly brought all sorts of interesting scenarios to Madanach's mind, but Liriel really wasn't terribly kinky and Madanach was fairly certain her parents were far too strait-laced to even consider a sexual side to that comment. He hoped so anyway.

“Liriel!” he called, barely sparing Meryndor another glance. “Liriel, cariad, it's your father. He wants to talk.”

The barest whimper from the bed, and Madanach left Meryndor without a second glance and went back to her.

“Creenama, you do not have to,” Madanach whispered as he sat on the bed next to her, stroking her hair. “Say the word and I'll send him away.”

Slowly, Liriel got up, doom in her eyes as she squeezed her husband's hand.

“It's all right, I'll talk to him,” she whispered. “You don't have to be there, I'll speak with him out by the throne.”

“Are you sure,” Madanach murmured, liking nothing about leaving his wife to face this alone. Liriel nodded tearfully, stroking his face, not seeming to care about the lines and the rougher texture and the stubble, and she kissed him once on lips that were not soft and delicate and never truthfully compared to rosebuds by even the most metaphorical of bards.

“I love you,” Madanach whispered, pressing her hand to her cheek before kissing her fingers and letting her go. Her choice, after all. But as he watched her go, he counted quietly to five then cast an Invisibility spell as soon as she was out of sight, his illusion gifts ensuring it made not a sound, then followed it with a Muffle charm to mask his footsteps and even the sound of his breath. He might let Liriel go... but he would not let her go alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meryndor was waiting out by the Mournful Throne, the usual servants gone and the guard duty lighter, and the dogs had been banished back to Banning's care when Madanach took over. He was not a dog person, and nor was Liriel, it was horses for her, always had been. Even if they had aged and died so quickly, she'd loved all of them. She'd picked them out as foals, her father at her side, smiling indulgently as his little girl squealed over them, helping her learn to ride and break new horses in, gently chiding her for riding too fast and what would happen if her pony broke a leg and had to be put down? Liriel had cried at the mere thought and always taken good care not to push her horses past their limits. Her father always had that effect on her – her mother might shout and Liriel wouldn't care but it was her father putting an arm around her and gently explaining why they had the rules they did that inevitably broke her.

It wasn't going to break her tonight.

“Father,” Liriel said quietly, Shrouded Boots noiseless on the stone floor. The lack of footsteps always made people uneasy. She'd take any advantage she could get. That and the Archmage's robes with the hood down usually did the trick, a little reminder she was one of the most powerful mages in Skyrim.

It wasn't working on her father. He got to his feet, not smiling this time.

“Daughter,” Meryndor returned. Silence as he stared accusingly at her and Liriel dropped her eyes, not willing to see the disappointment there.

“We should sit down,” she said, motioning for him to sit at a nearby table. It was the same one Cicero had hid under when Madanach had found out about him and Eola, and father and daughter had argued furiously about it for a good fifteen minutes before he'd finally given in.

Liriel wished she had a father like that. Madanach might have his faults but no one could deny he genuinely just wanted his daughter to be happy. Once she'd thought Meryndor was the same... but no longer. No, he wanted his eldest daughter to stay by his side, his innocent virginal little princess with him forever, no other man even coming close.

And I got married without him.

Meryndor was sitting across from her, hands folded in silence. Liriel didn't even know what to say. Sorry about Mother, I didn't know my husband was quite that crazy? Except she did, of course she did, she knew what the Nords had done to his sister and how helpless and furious he'd felt. He'd been a powerless teenager back then, but he'd had a man's spirit and a brother's heart. As a king in his prime, he was never going to let a slight to his wife go. Despite the disapproval, part of her found the protectiveness rather alluring. Not just that he wanted to... but that Madanach was capable of it. Few were stronger than her, few even came close. Madanach might not have the Thu'um but he had magic to match hers and an army of loyal followers. How was she supposed to have resisted that? No Dovah could ever take a weak mate.

If only she could make her father understand. But she had a feeling he'd just be furious that she thought someone else, some human, was stronger than him.

“Liriel, why?” Meryndor said, sounding frustrated and helpless and sad all at once, and Liriel fought back the tears that were threatening to come, the childish urge to break down in tears and throw herself at his feet for forgiveness. She wasn't a little girl any more and a Dovah did not cry!

“You wouldn't understand,” Liriel said, not caring how sulky that sounded. How did you even begin to explain dovah-sos and the Thu'um and realising you were the strongest person in the room and how lonely that felt? And that Madanach had been dealing with something like that for years, with being lonely at the top, or just plain lonely, and she'd been drawn irresistibly to him?

“I'm trying, Liriel,” Meryndor sighed. “I want to, I swear it. But all I can see is this primitive country full of humans led by this monster of a man who murdered his way to power, and my little girl in the midst of all this and... Liriel, why, how, you just wanted to learn magic, dreaming about having a magic castle of glass and a winged pony!”

Liriel could barely remember what Alinor's spires even looked like any more.

“Stone's more durable,” she whispered. “And I don't need a winged horse, not when I've got Odahviing.”

“That girl Sissel mentioned an Odahviing,” Meryndor said, frowning. “She said he was your dragon friend.”

“He is,” Liriel said fondly, quietly pleased at the utter confusion on her father's face. “He helped me save the world. He flew me to this hidden mountain temple where there's a portal to the Nord afterlife. I went through it and killed Alduin the King of the Dragons, stopped him destroying the world.”

“Alduin?” Meryndor said, puzzled. “Isn't he the Nord name for Akatosh?”

“No, Daddy,” Liriel sighed, mentally cursing that damn book. “He's the Firstborn of Akatosh and he's going to eat the world at the end of time. Which was almost last year, but I stopped it happening.”

“Liriel,” Meryndor sighed. “You are one hundred and thirty five soon. Aren't you a little old for fair folk tales?”

Liriel could stand for a lot but having her achievements put down was not one of them.

“It is NOT A STORY, BORMAH!” Liriel shouted, slamming her palms on the table, the Thu'um shaking even Understone Keep's foundations. “I AM LIRIEL DRAGONBORN AND I AM PART OF A LEGEND! FEIM ZII GRO!”

It was the first Thu'um she could think of that wouldn't actually hurt him. Dragon magic wasn't typically gentle.

Meryndor had shielded his face with his hands and was only now looking up, staring in amazement at her ethereal form, actually going so far as to wave a hand through her arm.

“How are you doing that?” he whispered, entranced. “Was it that thing you did with your voice?”

“It's called the Thu'um, Daddy,” Liriel said, feeling a little embarrassed of her outburst – but not ashamed like she once would have done. Nords and Reachmen between them had cured her of any lingering reticence she might once have had regarding shouting matches – either the Thu'um or the regular sort. “It's voice magic. Dragon magic. I couldn't have learnt it anywhere else but Skyrim and the Reach. Daddy, please stop doing that, it feels really weird.”

“Sorry,” said Meryndor, withdrawing his hand but looking intrigued nonetheless. “They told me you killed dragons. I didn't know you were learning their magic too. Is that what you did to that one you killed this afternoon, took its power?”

“Yes,” Liriel said softly, deciding not to mention she'd taken not just its power but its very soul. “It's how I learn Shouts. And it's difficult and dangerous but I'm the only one who can do it. Everyone else takes years to learn even one. You ask Cicero, he's been trying to learn how to breathe fire for months. He hasn't managed it yet.”

“From what I hear, that's probably for the best,” Meryndor said sternly. “Given that he spent half an hour talking to Ancalime earlier and I came home to find her singing about sneaking and stabbing and playing some sort of game involving one of her dolls stabbing the other, he's the absolute last person who should be allowed anywhere near magic. Liriel, I know he's part of the court here, but surely the fact King Madanach tolerates a bloodthirsty lunatic in his city, marrying his daughter no less, didn't tell you something?”

Liriel really didn't know how to tell her father about Cicero. Really, how did you explain him to anyone? Cicero was a force of nature in his own right, a little bit like having a Daedra or a small humanoid dragon living in your house.

“He's not a Reachman,” Liriel said quietly. “Cicero's an Imperial, only came to live in Skyrim a few months before I did. We were both foreigners in a strange new land and he was lonely and homesick too. He's had a very hard life, lost everyone he loved after the war. I think his mother died in the occupation. It... it damaged him, but he's happy these days. We just take care of him as best we can.”

“We... Liriel, are you saying you met him first??” Meryndor asked, frowning at her. She nodded. Might as well admit that at least.

“It was me who introduced him to the Forsworn. I first met him by the side of the road after his cart broke down, and I helped him out. Then I met him again later and got to know him better, and then I saved his life from this werewolf, and seeing as there was a price on his head, I took him to Madanach's camp for safety. Turned out the Forsworn liked him. He fit right in, apparently.”

Meryndor was staring at her like she'd lost her mind entirely.

“He's a friend... of yours.”

“Yes,” Liriel admitted, blushing. “And I'm so sorry about Cali, I didn't know they'd met! I'll – I'll talk to her if you want...”

“She wants a jester doll,” said Meryndor, glaring. “With red hair and black buttons for eyes, and a little black dagger like his. I hope your friend has somewhere to run to, because when your mother hears about this, she may actually kill him.”

Good luck with that one, Daddy. Liriel made a mental note to get such a doll crafted and sneaked into Ancalime's luggage before she left. Given the length of an Altmer childhood, and that most Altmer were very sentimental about their childhood years, it could well mean someone remembered Cicero fondly for centuries after he died. Immortality of a sort. But that reminded her all her human friends would die long before she did... including her beloved husband.

“He's not an easy man to kill,” Liriel said, raising a smile at that. “Also Eola would be heartbroken, and Madanach really would execute Mother if she broke his daughter's heart. I'll make sure he gets a stern talking-to.”

“He needs locking up, never mind a good talking-to!” Meryndor snapped. “But never mind him. The dragons, the unsuitable friends, I could understand all that, you're only young once. I can even understand the children – taking in two young orphans like that's rather noble of you, daughter. But Liriel, why... why get married. Did you want a father for them or was it the power? I know strong magic can be hard to resist, but marriage?? To one of them? Liriel, how could you, didn't we raise you better than that?”

And there it was, same Thalmor superiority her mother exuded, that Alinor was wreathed in, that the Altmer were the Aedra's chosen people (if they were, why was Daedra worship so prevalent there?) and no one else ever really mattered. Liriel had always wondered why bother creating the other races in the first place if the Altmer were the best one, but she'd always been told not to ask questions like that.

Since coming to Skyrim and finding out what the Thalmor were really about, she'd come to realise exactly why no one asked questions.

“You raised me on lies, father,” Liriel whispered, feeling the dovah rage starting to rise again, and if she spoke above a whisper, she might do more than shake this Keep, there might actually be fire. “You told me we were different! Better! Purer!”

“We are!”

“LIES!” Liriel shouted, finally losing it. “The Thalmor torture people for worshipping the wrong god! And we declared war on them for what? To enslave them in preparation for wiping them out?”

“We declared war because of pirate raids out of Hammerfell and Imperial spies all over Valenwood!” Meryndor snapped. “Don't bring the war into this, Liriel, that did not mean you had to throw yourself away over a human! Liriel, what did you do to yourself? You were innocent once.”

“I was ignorant once,” Liriel said coldly, feeling her cheeks flush. “I knew nothing, and perhaps if I had, I wouldn't have gone to comfort a lonely old man and ended up getting deflowered by a river bank for my trouble!”

A strange twinge of guilt that wasn't her own, and Liriel had a feeling Madanach wasn't far away. Listening in, of course he was, and Liriel found it oddly comforting.

“He did what,” Meryndor said quietly, and Liriel could feel her father's magicka rising. It was an extremely odd sensation, not something she was used to at all, Altmer just didn't let their magicka go like that and her father hardly ever did. Certainly not like this, not a slow burning rage that would split the world open and let Oblivion pour through if it could.

“You heard,” Liriel whispered. “All I knew about sex and love was pretty romantic stories and it did nothing to teach me about the reality. Nothing about what it's actually like being swept off your feet, kissed half to death and being begged to let them have you. Why did I marry a human, Daddy? Because he is powerful and dangerous and talented, and when he kissed me the first time, it was like he needed me more than breathing! And thanks to bloody Alinor and its bloody stories and insistence on some stupid purity, I knew nothing about how to deal with any of it! I was a mess for weeks! I hated myself and him for weeks, when a Forsworn woman would have kicked up her heels, done her make-up and gone back for seconds the next day!”

“That doesn't surprise me,” Meryndor growled, looking faintly disgusted, and Liriel's rage began to falter and fade as she realised this was her father, her beloved father who'd always doted on her and adored her, and now he was looking at her as if she was a stranger... and not a stranger he liked either. But he shook his head, rubbing his forehead and doing his best to pull himself together.

“Daddy, I'm sorry,” Liriel said, reaching out for him... and feeling her heart break as he backed away, as if she'd infect him with her dangerous ideas. “Please, I know it's not what you wanted for me, but please believe me, I love him so much and he feels the same. I know it can be hard to see from the outside, but he's such a good husband, he really is...”

“How can he be, he's a damn human!” Meryndor snapped bitterly. “He knows nothing about you, understands nothing about you, none of them ever can, because they don't live long enough!”

Low blow, Daddy. That was what Liriel wanted to think, to say, but in reality she couldn't find the words, fury and anger and desperate heartache all combining as the unhealed wound she tucked away out of sight and out of mind tore open.

“Do you think I never had any human friends, never knew any in my youth?” Meryndor was continuing. “Alinor was part of the Empire then, I used to have to travel, Cyrodiil, Valenwood, Hammerfell, even High Rock once. I was just like you, young, idealistic, making friends with the locals, even fancied myself in love with a young Breton girl once. We just flirted, nothing ever happened, I knew enough not to rush in to these things. Then I went home, came back a few decades later... and most of my human friends were old men and women, or dead, and my young Breton was married with three children, grey-haired and wrinkled, and daughter, you have never known hate until you see someone you care about stare back at you and hating you just because they got old and you haven't yet. I've barely left Alinor since. Then I met your mother, and we did our best to raise you the right way, so you wouldn't make my mistakes. Damn it, I knew something like this would happen, it's why I didn't want you to leave!”

“You loved a Breton girl...” Liriel whispered, feeling her world falling apart as everything she thought she knew turned like one of those shadow illusions, the perspective broken and suddenly none of it made sense any more.

“I thought I did,” Meryndor said bitterly. “But it was years ago, I wasn't much older than you are now, younger actually, I don't think I was even a hundred. What does it matter? I barely remember her face. All I remember is she was a powerful witch who'd had to leave her occupied homeland, called herself Kaie ap Faolan.”

Five hundred years ago, not long enough ago to actually be Red Eagle's child, but quite possibly a descendant, and definitely a Reachwoman.

“She came from here,” Liriel whispered. “She was from the Reach.”

“Could have been, she said it was in the east, near Skyrim,” Meryndor shrugged. “She really hated Nords, I know that. My point being, she's been dead for five centuries nearly and I barely remember her. Because she died before I could even start getting to know her, not because of some tragedy but because that is how it is. Because humans die before we can even appreciate they've lived! That is why we raised you the way we did, Liri-bella.” His voice had softened, heartbreak in his eyes as he reached out to stroke her cheek. “Because we can only really love other mer, daughter. They're the only ones who live long enough. I've had four hundred years with your mother, she's the love of my life. I could never have a connection that deep with anyone else, not now. What can this Madanach ever be to you, Liriel? A mere few decades from now, he'll be dead, and five centuries from now, what will you have? If you are lucky, you'll barely remember him. If you are unlucky, you will be lonely and heartbroken and mad from grief. Liriel, don't ask me to support you in this, I can't just watch my little girl destroy herself over some human, I can't...”

Liriel couldn't speak. Couldn't even think straight. Couldn't see through the tears and could barely breathe through the lump in her throat as she felt her heart breaking at the thought of looking back in the long and lonely centuries to come and thinking of Madanach as just some human she'd had a crush on once... and the alternatives were worse. Whatever happened, whatever path she walked, it was doomed to end in pain.

Ignoring her father's cries, Liriel fled the room, seeking privacy, quiet, space to howl her misery out without the world looking on. She was barely even aware of her Illusion-shielded husband just feet away, watching her go and feeling too numb and confused to go after her.

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?

“And as for your daughter,” Madanach continued. “Maybe she was a virgin until she met me, but do not think she was a sweet little innocent. She killed in Bruma, and she killed again when she got to Skyrim. She has blood on her hands, Meryndor. Good thing she ended up with me really, we've got that in common at least.”

Meryndor let out an inarticulate cry of rage, grabbing Madanach's robes and only stopping when he felt cold orichalcum at his neck and looked up to see a grinning Orc holding a blade. Borkul, Madanach's Orc bodyguard.

“Now can I shiv him, boss?” Borkul asked hopefully.

“Now, now, Borkul,” Madanach said calmly, waving him away along with all the other ReachGuard that appeared to have materialised out of nowhere. “Don't trouble yourselves, friends. I'm sure Meryndor didn't mean anything by it.”

Meryndor let Madanach go, suddenly disgusted by the whole situation, at Liriel, Madanach but mostly himself for rising to the bait in the first place.

“You are a vile excuse for a man,” Meryndor hissed. “Aedra, but I almost wished she'd been killed by dragons before she ever met you. I think I'd rather see her dead than know she'd let you touch her.”

It was the wrong thing to say, completely the wrong thing to say to a man who'd lost three daughters and buried one only the year before. Before Meryndor even knew it, he'd been grabbed by the collar and slammed onto the table, Madanach glaring at him in utter hatred.

“Don't you ever ever say that again,” Madanach snarled. “You have never lost a child, you don't know... Eola had three older sisters once! I had to watch Eithne die, I had to hold Kaie's cold corpse in my arms and know my girl was gone forever. You wish Liriel had died?? I wouldn't wish that on anyone. If she's breaking your heart now, it is still better than presiding over her funeral. I would give my entire kingdom to have Kaie back. I might even give up Liriel to have Kaie back. You...”

Meryndor was very aware of the various guards all turning their backs quite deliberately, forming a protective ring and watching for enemies. Guarding the Reach... guarding their king from anyone who might ask why he was assaulting an innocent man, although Meryndor correctly guessed there were few citizens of Markarth who would ask any such thing.

“You count your blessings every single day that all the children of your blood are living and breathing, healthy and happy,” Madanach said softly. “If they grow up, leave you, make mistakes and choices you never would have made, you thank the gods they're alive to make them. Eithne could have eloped with Ulfric Stormcloak, Amaleen converted to Talos worship, Kaie decided to join the Companions of Ysgramor, and I would rather any or all of those than what actually happened to them.”

Meryndor was only vaguely aware of Ulfric Stormcloak and he'd never heard of the Companions but they sounded Nordic. He could imagine a Reachman King would probably not have approved. Madanach had just closed his eyes, shoving Meryndor back and turning to walk away.

“I want you out of this city, elf,” Madanach said, and he sounded tired and old and in pain. “I want you and your wife out of here by nightfall tomorrow. I don't care if you are Liriel's parents, everything about you being here is hurting her, and I don't even care if five hundred years from now she thinks I was just some youthful fling. I love her more than anything except my children, and right here, right now, she is my wife and she loves me back. That is all I care about, and if centuries after I'm gone, that's no longer the case, at least I won't be alive to know. Now if you'll excuse me... Liriel, gods, Liriel, I'm coming.” He swept past the guards, almost running towards the Keep's master bedroom, leaving Meryndor staring nervously at six unimpressed Bretons and one glowering Orc.

“Boss said to get your sorry hide out of here,” Borkul growled. “Do I have to haul you out myself or can you get your worthless arse out of this Keep on your own?”

Meryndor elected not to risk the first option. Picking himself up, he staggered from Understone Keep, not sure if he'd saved his family or destroyed it.

Wow this left me breathless. I hope this has a happy ending lol. I'm so into this, keep them coming.

*hit F5 like a troll would hit a bandit*
Gods above, I love this. Keep it coming A!A, this is really great!

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