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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Liriel had heard the door close, heard him go and collapsed on the bed, sobbing her heart out, wanting to run after him and scream she was sorry, not to ever leave her, she loved him so much... but she couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Because elves lived for the long-term, they couldn't not, and in the long-term, he'd be dead and she'd be alone, heartbroken, grieving... and then not. Then looking back and trying to remember what he looked like. The love of her life, reduced to just a footnote, and it was breaking her heart.

He was furious and angry and hurting, and now off somewhere else in the Keep and she couldn't feel him properly at all now, just a black void of venom and loathing. She couldn't tell who it was directed at – her, her parents, just the situation? She didn't know, didn't care to. All she knew was there were no happy endings here, just short-term bliss built on a lie that could enchant her as long as she didn't look too closely at the cracks on the illusion... and then heartbreak and misery once it ended. She just hadn't expected it to end before Madanach actually died.

Of course he hated her for it, for looking too soon. Why wouldn't he? She'd felt the anger. At least he'd left when she asked, and why couldn't he have done that on that riverbank, saved them all this?

Because you didn't ask. Because no one had ever kissed you before, desired you before, no one had ever kissed your breasts and whispered how much they'd wanted you before and you didn't want it to stop.

She still didn't want it to stop. That was the problem. Except her parents had come and shattered the illusion and not all her skills or Madanach's could put it back together again, not now.

The door creaking open, some change on the breeze and someone was sneaking into the room, by Sithis, who would dare sneak up on a dragon?

Aura Whisper and a thunderbolt later, and a very high-pitched shriek answered that question.

“LISTENER! Listener, it is humble Cicero, please don't burn him! He means you no harm! He would never harm his beloved sister!”

Someone else who'd die too soon, but the knowledge didn't break her in the same way. Cicero walked hand in hand with death every day. Sooner or later the Night Mother would claim her beautiful boy back, and Cicero would go willingly... but not today.

“Cicero,” Liriel gasped, feeling her heart skip, part guilt and part relief. Cicero knew loss like no one else... but he also knew rebirth. Hadn't he built a new life after losing his former family, finding a new one in the Forsworn? He'd settled right in, finding a natural home among a faction that danced the Dance of Life and Death like no one else. She wished she could follow as easily.

“Listener,” Cicero gasped, slithering on to the bed alongside her and snuggling into her arms. “Listener, sweet Listener, what is it, you were crying, the Reach-King is not here, he left looking... not himself. Cicero heard you talking to your father, he heard the cruel things, monstrous things he said to you. He saw you... become unhappy.” Cicero looked up, eyes narrowing and lips curling back into a snarl as he stared up at her, gloved fingers tracing her jawline. “Cicero does not like the Listener being unhappy. Say the word and your parents die. But not in front of your sister, no. Cicero likes your sister. She is sweet and innocent, does not say horrible things to her older sister. But your mother who strikes you for being what you are and your father who is worse with his sly words and vile insinuations... say the word, Listener.”

“NO,” Liriel snapped, her own lips curling back as she growled at Cicero. “You do not hurt my family, Cicero. Not. Ever!”

Cicero gazed back, and Liriel suddenly wondered if perhaps even Cicero's obedience had limits... but he did eventually nod.

“As you wish,” he said curtly. “They live... for now.”

Liriel relaxed, pulling him closer and kissing his forehead as he bowed his head in submission.

“Thank you, Keeper,” she said quietly and Cicero responded by curling up in her arms, snuggling up to her.

“Cicero was worried,” Cicero whispered. “Cicero was scared. Cicero has not seen you like that before. Only when Madanach and you argued that time after you gave the Reach to the Stormcloaks, and he took your torc back. Oh but even then you were still strong! You still went off on your very important Alduin contract, and maybe Madanach was angry but Cicero knew he would get over it eventually, he always does. But now, now he is broken and so are you and... Listener, you mustn't leave! Not the Reach, not the King, not Mother! Mother is worshipped here, Mother is loved! This is her true home, and you must be here to listen! You cannot go back to Alinor, you can't, you mustn't!”

Liriel could feel tears in her eyes, and she tightened her grip on poor Cicero. Sweet Cicero. Little brother. Loyal brother. Always helpful and willing to stab anyone she wanted, and accompany her no matter how dangerous it got, and smile as if nothing untoward was going on even when it involved Black Books of Hermaeus Mora (even Madanach disapproved although that had not stopped him reading them too).

Of course she wasn't going back to Alinor. She'd built a life here before she ever met Madanach, and she'd have a life here despite him. She'd go back to Solitude if she had to, but she wouldn't abandon the Brotherhood. Not to mention trying to raise Sissel and Lucia in Alinor, good gods, never. No, they could stay with Madanach, at least they'd be cared for and loved for as long as he lived, and she could stay in Vlindrel Hall if she had to.

“I won't leave you,” she promised. “Not you, little brother. I will miss you when you die, but I know you'll be with Mother and probably quite happy.”

“If she lets me visit the Scuttling Void to see Eola,” Cicero said, sounding quite cheerful. “Or Eola could come to see Mother. I'm sure Mother would like her.”

“I'm sure the Night Mother would be very pleased to see Eola whenever she felt like dropping by,” Liriel said, smiling a little. It took her mind off the little ball of misery and revulsion that was Madanach right now.

Cicero smiled sadly and hugged her back.

“Cicero wishes the Listener was happy too,” he whispered. “Listener, you are going to the Void, so is Madanach, you will see each other again and be happy!”

Liriel felt the tears coming back. “He's only in the other room and being around him's breaking my heart!” Liriel whispered. “I don't want him to go, I don't want it to change, I don't want him to die, but it'll happen and then I'll heal and won't love him any more and... and now he hates me, I can feel it!”

“He does not hate you,” Cicero murmured. “He did not look like he hated you when Cicero saw him come out of here. He looked... oh Listener, he looked terrible but not like he hated you.”

“That's worse!” Liriel cried. “It means I hurt him! I broke the Reach-King! I – I broke Madanach...” She clung on to Cicero, sobbing helplessly into his motley, not able to stop herself as Cicero held on to her, cooing and fussing over her, whispering wretchedly not to, not to, Cicero was here, Cicero would care for her, Cicero would tend to her always and Madanach was not as fragile as Liriel thought, Madanach was like his daughter, stronger than anyone, and while Liriel agreed Eola was mentally unshakeable, she hadn't the heart to tell Cicero Madanach was just an old man who was far more vulnerable than anyone ever saw. She just let Cicero tuck her up in bed and then curl up alongside her, babbling and fluttering and snuggling her until she drifted off to sleep and even then Cicero did not let go.

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

Morning brought no clarity, no easy answers but it did at least bring calm. Liriel stayed in bed, hiding from it all, wanting to shut out the world, time ticking steadily by, each second bringing her husband closer to his grave and her closer to unending heartbreak. She could barely feel him in her mind today, just this morass of inky blackness that even she who'd dared Apocrypha and the Soul Cairn was afraid to look at.

But Cicero was there and Cicero was patient, trilling and chivvying and generally making a nuisance of himself until Liriel finally agreed to get up and have a bath, and if it was a bit weird to be bathing with Cicero being there, looking the other way but definitely there, singing and babbling to himself, it was oddly comforting.

Then Eola swanned in without even bothering to knock and the resulting shrieking and cuddling brought tears back to Liriel's eyes. Why were Cicero and Eola lucky enough to have such a simple relationship? Both human, both likely to die within a relatively short time of the other, and Cicero, the more vulnerable of the two, probably likely to go first – and they never had to deal with weighty emotional issues hanging over them. Their foremost concern was generally where the next kill was coming from. Liriel envied them that.

“So how's our Listener doing this morning?” Eola asked, coming to perch on the poolside behind her... or at least she did until she realised Liriel was still naked and immediately took a seat just out of sight, Cicero curling up at her feet. “Any better?”

“My husband hates me,” Liriel said, feeling as empty as ever. “My parents hate me. My marriage is a lie built on a charade and it's going to be over in a few years. What's the point?”

“Don't say that, my da is heartbroken!” Eola cried and that just tore Liriel up all over again. “He loves you, Liri, he really does. You're the woman of his dreams, cariad, you're beautiful and murderous and dangerous and you can breathe fire. Why wouldn't he want you?”

That much had never been in doubt, and that was the worst thing. The love was genuine. The affection was genuine. The ability to amuse, entertain and understand each other was genuine, a gift of the gods. Maybe Madanach adored her, but he was also wild and murderous and dangerous and could summon fire at will. Dragons didn't normally submit to anyone, but Madanach made Liriel feel calm and protected just by being there. Of course, he didn't get it all his own way and there'd been plenty of times she'd had him pleading for more and begging to be allowed to touch her... but it would never have been the same being held down and claimed by someone who wasn't actually a match for her in strength.

Not having that any more made her want to cry, and where was she supposed to find another man who wasn't afraid of her? Harkon, Miraak, Ulfric, Mercer - she'd killed the others, and she'd never met anyone she trusted like Madanach. How was she just supposed to replace him and move on after he died?

“He's going to die!” Liriel cried, and it all kept circling inescapably back to that, didn't it? Humans died so stupidly soon, and maybe her mother saw them as a lesser breed unworthy of a true-bred mer... but her father just didn't want her to get her heart broken.

Too late for that, Daddy. Sighing, Liriel got out of the pool, after reaching for a towel and checking Cicero was looking away, and he was, head dutifully buried in Eola's lap.

“Sweet gods, Liriel,” Eola said faintly. “You perhaps want to warn me when you're going to wander around naked?”

“Don't tell me you're prudish about these things,” Liriel sighed as she dried herself, wondering why Eola was averting her eyes and blushing – Eola blushed? Liriel hadn't realised she was capable of it.

“Oh sweetie, believe me, that is not the problem,” Eola said and Liriel could swear Cicero was snickering. “Just... get dressed quickly so I can look in your direction again, yeah?”

“Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen a naked woman before,” Liriel sighed as she pulled on her underwear. That elicited an actual cackle from Cicero before Eola smacked him.

“Cicero, shut up. And Liriel... oh Liriel, you sweet summer child,” Eola sighed. “Never you mind, honey, you just get dressed and let me know when you're done, OK?”

Liriel nodded and got dressed. Archmage robes, circlet, Gauldur Amulet, wedding ring, Shrouded boots and gloves, Mehrunes' Razor at her waist, that'd do. Then... time to face the world, she supposed. See her children. See if she still had a husband.

No sign of the kids as she emerged. They must be off playing somewhere in the city. Such was often the case. She could sense Madanach though. He was out by the throne, although not in it. She could see his silhouette as she approached – see his shoulders tighten as he sensed her coming.

“Go on, go talk to him, we'll be right here,” Eola whispered and Cicero nodded fervently.

“Cicero isn't going anywhere, sweet Listener,” Cicero murmured and that did make her smile. With young initiates from the Forsworn to tend to Mother, Cicero had a lot more free time on his hands and Eola could only take so much of him at a time. So Liriel not infrequently found Cicero fussing over her too when Madanach was busy. It was all rather nice... but Cicero wasn't the Reach-King.

Today, Madanach didn't feel like one either. Liriel could tell he was feeling tense, on edge, not nearly as confident as usual. In fact there wasn't a lot there at all, just... nothing. Emptiness. Which was wrong, very very wrong, usually he'd sense her nearby and feel pleased. Not today.

“Madanach,” Liriel began as she approached. “Madanach, about last night...” No, really no idea about any of it, but maybe just being able to talk to him would help. If only she knew how he was feeling. Because he looked terrible. Hunched over the table, barely looking at her, red and puffy eyes. He'd not slept well, she could tell that.

“Madanach,” she whispered, guilt gnawing at her as she reached out for him... then shock as he flinched away.

“Liriel,” Madanach said quietly. “Your parents are leaving today, your father just stopped by to pay your mother's bounty. I made myself scarce, don't worry. You should probably go and say goodbye.”

Right now, Liriel couldn't care less about her parents. What was she supposed to say? Goodbye, thanks for visiting, by the way I think you just ruined my marriage and any chance of happiness I might have had in life.

She was more worried about her husband. This withdrawal was not like him – normally everyone could tell what sort of mood he was in.

“What about you?” she said softly, not touching him but taking a seat next to him. Madanach just turned away, head in his hands.

“It doesn't matter,” and he was barely audible, even Liriel's Elven hearing straining to catch him. But she heard the words and her mind flashed back to another time they'd been sitting by a campfire and she'd asked about his happiness and he'd shrugged and asked if that mattered. They'd been apart for weeks, she'd not seen him since the conference that got him his kingdom, but she'd known by that point she wanted him back.

“It matters to me,” she whispered, same words she'd said then, but this time he didn't look up or respond, he just moved further away.

“It shouldn't,” he said roughly. “Liriel, when they're gone, when Vlindrel Hall's empty again... you should move back there. Or one of the many other houses you've got. You can take the kids, do whatever you want with the ring, you can keep the torc even. Don't worry about the bond, I'll get Keirine to break it, you can have your head back. Have your life back. All I ask is a chance to see the girls now and then, let me write to them. I'll send coin for their upkeep if you like, full retinue of servants if you want, anything you need, let Nepos know.”

Liriel let her hand fall to her side, everything coming screaming to a halt as it sank in just what he meant.

“No,” she whispered. “No, you can't. You're my husband!” But he was slowly shaking his head.

“I can't, Liriel,” he said softly. “I can't do it to you. I should never have... I should have let you be, let you go off and find yourself an elven man who can give you what you actually want. Because you're not happy with me, at least you're not any more and I can't... damn, Liriel, I can feel you, you're breaking my heart!”

“I'm breaking your heart??” Liriel breathed, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away irritably – a dragon shouldn't cry, even when her ahmul walked away like this. “Madanach, what are you doing, I still love you, you wanted me only yesterday, don't do this, please, what about the kids, what the actual fuck am I supposed to tell our children??”

“I don't – damn it, Liriel, do you think this is easy for me? That I want this? That I wanted anything other than the few years left to me spent with the woman I love??” He was looking at her now, glaring at her in fury, but his eyes weren't cold like they usually were when he was angry. The numbness from him was gone but the fury, hate, loathing, despair, bitterness and grief were no comfort. “But I can't have that, because my godsdamn in-laws turned up and ruined everything and now you can barely look at me without seeing my tombstone. So yes, perhaps we're better off divorced and away from each other, and you can hate me instead of loving me, and when I finally do die, at least you'll be pleased!”

Liriel couldn't stop the howl of grief as he said the words. He couldn't do this... she was the bloody Dragonborn... he owed her his country and freedom... pleased?? Pleased??

“I will never be indifferent to you,” she whispered, the words coming out more vicious than she'd planned.

“It's easier to mourn someone you hate,” Madanach said bitterly. “Trust me on that.”

The truly sad thing was, she couldn't even bring herself to do that. She'd been privy to what others rarely saw – a king with the robes and the crown off, just dozing next to her or shaving or waking up first thing in the morning and looking adorably confused, as if he wasn't sure if he was still dreaming or not, or turning their bedroom over as he called to her if she'd seen something of his. Little things that made a marriage, and the memories of holding him in her arms after sex and seeing him vulnerable, something very few others ever saw.

He was her Reachman, and he always would be, the stupid bastard. But that didn't mean she wasn't angry. Reaching for her left hand, she wrenched the wedding ring off and threw it at him, feeling vaguely pleased as it hit his cheek, the diamond drawing blood. Madanach cursed, a hand to his face, magic already flaring but it didn't erase the blood from his fingers.

“All correspondence to my housecarl Jordis or via Argis,” Liriel snapped, shoving her grief behind a facade of cold disdain. “Don't contact me yourself. I'm taking the girls to Solitude, you can write to them, and see them when you visit Lirela. But you stay away from me. You. Stay. Away!”

Liriel didn't even dare look at him. It was taking all her self-control not to cry or beg or plead with him, and had she but realised it, if she'd done all that, if she'd kissed him and screamed at him he wasn't allowed to, she wasn't leaving... he'd probably have cracked, broken, kissed her back, said he was sorry for everything, for ruining her life, but please not to go, he loved her. And if he'd done that, they'd likely have taken the conversation somewhere more private, cried, talked, ended up in bed and emerged the better for it, all ready to tell Liriel's parents where to go. But Madanach couldn't say the words and Liriel was too proud to... and things went in a very different direction.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: See? Crying! Oh Madanach, you really are a bit dim sometimes. Give him a political, magical or military problem and he's all over it but ask him to deal with relationship troubles and he falls apart completely. Next chapter, things go from bad to worse as Liriel goes to speak to her parents.

Wow I need the next chapter like soon. I hope they can work it out after all they're one my fav couples.

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