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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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A/N: My word, this chapter. This is where the action happens. I suspect you won't have seen any of this coming. There is angst and fighting and drama and blood.

Summary: Cicero is homing in on his prey and Madanach and Argis are leading their rescue party to intercept. But Skyrim is a dangerous place, and an unexpected foe changes everything.

Notes:

Ahmul - Dovah for husband

Agar y agarma - blood of my blood, traditional means of referring to one's sworn brother or sister.

One moment the carriage had been trundling along the road as the sun set. The next they'd been on them. Like elves but surely not, pale pasty white skin, smelling vile and no eyes. That was what stayed with Sabrinda the most – no eyes but they could clearly sense her well enough. She had a horrible feeling they were either using Detect Life... or they could smell her.

There'd been arrows. There'd been magic. There'd been vicious blades carved of some chitinous material. There'd been what seemed like dozens of them.

She'd fought. Her guards had fought. Meryndor had grabbed Cali and shoved her to the bottom of the carriage, shielding her and warding them both. But there'd been too many. Her guards had died, their driver had died, the horse had died screaming. She'd never get the sound out of her head.

Then they'd gone for the trunk with Liriel in it and Sabrinda had snapped, firing off spell after spell, using the gift of the Highborn to recharge her magicka, not stopping for a second. It hadn't been enough. They'd used the trunk as a shield and she'd not dared hitting it, and they'd used that, grabbing the trunk, hauling it off the carriage and then swarming the carriage while three of the feral beasts had carted it off. Sabrinda had shrieked abuse at them even while hurling fireballs at them. She'd been too crazed to realise they'd climbed on the carriage behind her... at least until Ancalime's screams rent the air.

“MAMMA! MAMMA!”

“CALI!” Sabrinda screamed, turning around just in time to see one of the foul creatures snatch up her little girl and disappear into the darkness, but Ancalime's screams kept on echoing off the cliffs. Their goal apparently achieved, the remaining fiends decided the dangerous one with the powerful Destruction spells was best left for another day, and as one they vanished into the night.

“CALI!” Sabrinda howled again, and them taking Liriel was one thing, but not her baby, not her little Ancalime, she was helpless, innocent, and why hadn't Meryndor stopped them... oh gods, Meryn...

He was lying on the floor of the carriage, staring up at her, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, arrows piercing his skin... and a horrific chest wound with blood pouring out of it.

“MERYN!” Sabrinda cried, dropping to her knees and reaching for the wound, heedless of the blood on her robes, dear Auriel, so much blood... but she could save him, she could seal the wound, she could...

He was staring at her, clearly in agony, trying to say something... and then the light seemed to fade out of those beautiful golden eyes as he slumped to the floor, eyes as sightless as the elves that had killed him.

“Meryn?” Sabrinda whispered, shaking his shoulder, Restoration spells flaring, she could fix this, right? Right? He couldn't be gone, not like this, not again, he was her husband, her soul mate, the father of her children, companion, friend and lover for four centuries, he couldn't be gone, he wasn't!

“Meryn,” Sabrinda sobbed. “Meryn, Meryn, no, beloved, please, get up, talk to me, please, please, please, you can't be dead, you can't be, don't leave me, don't leave me! Please, please, no...” She clung on to him, sobbing into his hair, his gorgeous blonde hair, howling her grief out, and her husband was gone, her baby girls taken and not just the grief but the guilt gnawed at her – that a free Liriel could probably have fought them off, and if they'd not taken Liriel they'd probably have taken the teleportal back and then the carriage via the north road, and while it was icy and frequently the target of bandits, the western end was patrolled by ReachGuard who had permission from Jarl Elisif to patrol the highway on her side of the border to protect travellers. It was a much safer route than this one which had had frequent reports of traveller disappearances along this stretch, and the local Jarl didn't have the resources to patrol it, not like Madanach did.

Sabrinda would give her son-in-law his due, the roads in the Reach were by and large safe to travel, and you rarely travelled more than half an hour without running into a ReachGuard patrol, the strange tribal costumes that had once meant blood and death now representing order and safety.

She'd have given anything for a ReachGuard patrol to have turned up in time, even one arriving now could at least get her daughters back. As it was... she'd lost everything and it was her own fault. Ancalime's screams were still echoing in her head, taunting her for failing her helpless young baby girl.

In the distance, she could hear hoofbeats, someone riding a horse, pushing it to its limits from the sounds of it, and at this point any help was welcome. Sabrinda staggered from the carriage, not caring how she looked or that she was covered in blood, just firing a magelight into a nearby rock and crying out for help from the rider.

When glowing red eyes loomed out of the darkness, Sabrinda realised that her evening had just got dramatically worse. It was that black daedra horse that Sabrinda had seen in Markarth stables, the wild dangerous one. And on its back was a human with black and red armour and a face out of nightmares. The red-haired jester she'd seen hanging around the Reach-Princess, who'd run to greet her like an old friend when he'd first seen her. The one who'd called her Listener.

“Sabrinda,” Cicero purred. “What a pleasant surprise.” He slid off the horse, left hand flashing out as he did and grasping her round the throat, and the momentum caused by his drop forced her to her knees. Cicero had flicked an ebony dagger into his free hand, poised to strike.

“Where is she,” Cicero growled and Sabrinda saw the armour, knew it, knew right then what he really was. Not a court jester but a Dark Brotherhood assassin, dressed in their Shrouded Armour, apart from the cowl, which had been replaced by the jester hat. Did Madanach know? Liriel? Eola? Of course they did, the Brotherhood had reacted viciously to an attempted contract against the Reach-King. Sabrinda remembered too Lucien's rank in the Brotherhood – Speaker. And she looked at the boots and gloves and realised Liriel had been wearing identical ones that morning. Liriel was a Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Her daughter was an assassin, and high-ranked enough in their guild that she could give orders to all her fellows that Madanach was not to be harmed for any reason whatsoever. Did he know what his wife was, Sabrinda wondered, then laughed at her own foolishness. Of course he did. He'd probably killed more people than she had. Maybe he'd even recruited her. Despite Sabrinda's own career, she was ready to cry at the thought of her daughter out there killing people, and not even for honour or glory or to make the world a better place or anything. For money. She was part of the Dark Brotherhood... and it appeared the Brotherhood looked after their own.

“ANSWER ME!” Cicero howled, face twisted and grim in the magelight. “Where... is... the... LISTENER!”

“I don't know!” Sabrinda cried. “We were attacked! They took her! They took Cali as well, she's only a little girl, please!”

“Who took her. Where,” Cicero said, shaking her. “Tell Cicero. Tell Cicero and he shall make your end a swift one.”

“Elves!” Sabrinda cried, shaking all over but not afraid, no, not afraid of death. Meryndor was dead, her handsome, golden-haired husband gone forever and if she followed him, she didn't care about anything else. Just as long as her girls were all right. “They were like elves... but white skin and no eyes... I don't know where they took them, that way, I think. Across the river.”

“Falmer,” Cicero breathed. “They have a hive nearby then. Cicero had heard stories of disappearances, the Listener was considering investigating...” Cicero stopped and for a moment madness gave way to genuine sorrow before the professional mask descended once more. “Cicero thanks you, Sabrinda. Do not fear for Liriel. Cicero will find her. Cicero did not wait twelve years for her to lose her now. But as for you... for the sin of taking my Listener, for stealing her...! For your crimes, you will pay.” He raised the knife and Sabrinda closed her eyes, waiting for death to claim her, visions of her parents and Valiriel and Meryndor, gods, Meryndor, all waiting for her with arms outstretched to welcome her home.

Mara protect my babies. Auriel, take me home. She waited for the knife-blow. It never came.

Lightning flashed out above her, far too close to the ground to be a storm. Cicero gasped and looked to his right, to the road up ahead, and Sabrinda could hear hoofbeats... and then a man's voice ringing out.

“THAT'S ENOUGH, GARRA-LANN! PUT HER DOWN!”

Madanach, and how he'd got here Sabrinda didn't know, but relief coursed through her veins as Cicero let her go, clearly as surprised as she was to see him.

“Reach-King?” Cicero said, confused. “But... how did you get here?”

Horses clattered to a stop, and Sabrinda saw several Haafingar guards, an ebony-clad woman with a huge warhammer on her back, Madanach pulling a strange ebony mask off as the Orc seated in front of him slid off his horse then lifted Madanach down without even seeming to flinch. And on the horse standing next to Madanach's was a Nord warrior in ebony armour... and a solid dragontooth crown on his head.

“Cicero, what is this? Did you do this??” Madanach demanded, and Cicero gasped in shock, fluttering his eyelashes as the fool persona resurfaced.

“Me? What? Never! Cicero didn't do it! Cicero did NOTHING! Cicero only just got here! It was like this when Cicero found it! Why do people always assume that just because there are bodies and a lot of blood and a knife in Cicero's hand that he did it??”

Madanach just shook his head wearily, exchanging looks with the Nord in the dragon crown.

“Because it usually was you,” the dragon-crowned Nord said, surveying the scene. Big burly Nord warriors didn't look horrified often but this one did. “Cicero, seriously, what is this? I can understand the guards and Liriel's parents but I'm going to have to bounty you for the driver...”

“CICERO DIDN'T DO IT!!!” Cicero shrieked, furious at being wrongly accused, but then the woman in ebony spoke up.

“Argis – I mean, my lord. I think he's telling the truth for once. Look over there. That wasn't a passenger on the carriage.” She was pointing at a body of one of the elves Cicero had called Falmer.

“There's another over here, sir,” said one of the guards. “And another... looks pretty charred though.”

“I think that was me,” Sabrinda said, feeling a bit light-headed. “Sorry.”

“Don't be, one less of those in the world is a blessing,” Argis growled. “They attacked you? You're lucky you aren't dead.”

Sabrinda thought about snapping back that she was a Justiciar of the Thalmor, she wasn't easy to kill. Then she remembered the madness in Cicero's eyes and said nothing. He was still glaring at her.

“Reach-King,” Cicero growled. “Brother. Agar y agarma. She took the Lis- she took Liriel Brenhina! And now Liriel could be anywhere! Liriel might not even... she must pay, brother!” He'd turned furious eyes on Madanach, who had been staring at the carriage, hunting for bodies... and seen Meryndor's remains.

“She already has,” Madanach said quietly and as he turned towards her, actual sympathy in his eyes, she realised he knew, he knew what marriage meant to an Altmer, because he loved one too. “Sabrinda, I can't say I counted him a friend, but I'm sorry for your loss. But you have kin left who need you, you have your daughters. Where are they, what happened to them?”

“They took them,” Sabrinda whispered, her voice hollow, everything hollow, all feelings numb as she recalled Ancalime's terrified cries. “They took my babies. That way, but I don't know where! Or... or why.”

“Falmer don't take prisoners,” the Orc grunted. “Not unless they want to eat them.”

Sabrinda felt the tears come back, nausea threatening to claim her. She barely heard Madanach hiss “Borkul!” before kneeling by her side.

“Sabrinda. We'll find them. Liriel isn't dead. She's not even that far away... and she's fighting, I can always tell, Argis, Liriel's fighting!” Madanach looked overjoyed at the thought and the Nord who was presumably Argis grinned.

“They got an angry Dragonborn to deal with. Well now, they're about to have a really bad evening.”

“It will get worse,” Cicero growled, fury in his eyes but an unholy smile on his face as he contemplated the death he was clearly intending to inflict on these Falmer. “Reach-King, please say we may visit pain and blood on the unworthy.”

“Agar y agarma,” Madanach grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “Of course we will. Can't let Liriel deal with this on her own, can we? We've got a Dragonborn to reclaim and her frightened little sister to rescue.”

“She's got a little sister?” Argis asked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes, little Ancalime, not sure how old she is but I think she's the same sort of stage as Sissel. She's so sweet, she's got pointy ears that are too big for her head!”

“Madanach,” the woman in ebony cut in, then immediately flinched. “Er... I mean, sir. We have a Thane to find?”

Belatedly, it occurred to Sabrinda that the ruling couple of Skyrim were High Queen Elisif and King Consort Argis and judging from the crown, that was clearly the consort. Was the woman Queen Elisif? But no, she really couldn't imagine a queen looking that nervous, even around Madanach.

“Yes, of course, we do, sorry Jordis,” Madanach said, collecting himself. “Well, Sabrinda, I don't need to tell you you're in a lot of trouble. But I may be able to lessen your fate a little. Are you injured? Can you stand? Walk? Fight?”

Slowly Sabrinda picked herself up, brushing herself down as best she could, but honestly the robes were a dead loss. They'd have to do though – her clothes case was shattered by the road, the contents trodden underfoot. At least she still had her coinpurse and maybe the Embassy could help.

“I can fight,” Sabrinda said, staring Madanach down, surprised to see him smiling.

“Good,” he said, smirking, and really, what did Liriel see in him? “In that case, you want to start making some amends for kidnapping my wife? You come with me right now, and you help me get her back. Could do with another mage in the party. Well? You up for it?”

A chance to get her girls back. To rescue Ancalime. To save Liriel and hope her elder daughter ever forgave her. Of course she would.

“I'm with you,” Sabrinda said fervently. Madanach nodded.

“Good, then after me. Borkul! Jordis! Cicero! Come on, we've got a Dragonborn to collect. No heroics, no death or glory, just kill everything between us and Liriel then get her and Cali out of there, let's go!”

“Wait a sec- ah bugger it,” Argis sighed. “Right, you and you to Dragon Bridge, get guards down here to clear up the bodies and the mess. Get all bodies to the Hall of the Dead, but do NOT tell the Embassy any of this. Report to the Jarl, no one else. Not even Rikke.”

“Understood,” one of the guards nodded. “What about you, sir? Are you coming?”

Argis shook his head, adjusting the Jagged Crown and fingering his sword-hilt.

“No. Tell Elisif I'm sorry but my Thane needs me. She'll understand.”

With that, Argis turned and ran after Madanach, following the candlelight spell he'd cast and the glow of his and Sabrinda's mage armour. Once a housecarl, always a housecarl... and Argis had always been very good at his job.

Liriel had heard the shouts and screams, heard the magic. Heard the savage yowls that had haunted every Dwemer ruin she'd ever been in. She'd got free of her bonds by then and was desperately trying to pick her way out of the chest, but so far the lock held good, and it really wasn't meant to be picked from this side.

When she felt the chest tilt and fall, she knew things were bad. When they picked it up and carried it away, she knew she was in real trouble. Did they know she was in here? Had they taken this one because they knew it held easy meat (hah, she'd show them)? Then she heard her sister screaming and fear turned to panic.

“Cali,” Liriel whispered as she wrestled with the lock, cursing as yet another pick broke. “Cali, hold on, I'm coming.” Frantic signalling to Madanach too. No one else would be able to track her, no one else would be able to find them.

Madanach, if you ever loved me, help me! Please...

Answering call and the answer to that first part was clearly yes, hang in there, I'm coming. It was the sole bright point, her husband still loved her, and she could feel him getting closer now, moving faster – was he on horseback? Not alone then, Madanach could barely ride to save his life or anyone else's.

But he was coming and her sister was howling, sobbing helplessly and crying out for her parents, for her mother to help and for Daddy, Daddy, you hurt my Daddy and Liriel felt her own tears come. Maybe the last few days hadn't been easy but he was still her father and Liriel still loved him.

She persevered but the bloody picks kept breaking and she was down to her last one. Ancalime's voice had changed somehow, echoing, and Liriel guessed this was the hive. Certainly smelt like it. She had to get out of here, she had to, her sister was terrified, her father was hurt, what about her mother (although Liriel somehow felt her mother would survive). She was the Dragonborn, dammit, her family needed her!

Last pick. One more try. Calm, Liriel, calm and maybe she should have joined the Nightingales after all. Luck clearly wasn't with her tonight.

The pick broke and Liriel lost it. Screaming, shrieking, she began hammering on the chest, promising vengeance, promising fire, promising death if they dared hurt her sister, and then sit occurred to her that her Voice could do more than just scream.

“FUS RO DAH!”

In confined quarters, the effect was immediate. The lid of the chest exploded outwards and the Falmer carrying her shrieked, dropping the chest and fleeing the rain of splinters. Liriel crashed to the floor, winded but OK and casting her armour. One Atronach later and fireballs were flying in all directions as Liriel dealt with her captors the best way she knew how.

Even not fully equipped, the Archmage of Winterhold was no base prey, and she had her best robes on. Falmer went flying as Destruction magic sliced through the air. Finally all three were dead and Liriel was sprinting after Ancalime.

“Hold on, nethig, I'm coming!” Liriel shouted as she rounded the corner into the main chamber. There were more of them waiting for her, three of them standing over Ancalime, who was crouched on the ground, unhurt but tears rolling down her face. She looked up, hope and adoration in her eyes as her sister emerged with a Flame Atronach at her back and a Flame Cloak going.

“Liriel!” Ancalime sobbed. “Liriel, help!”

“Cali. As soon as they're distracted, run!” Liriel cried, summoning a bound bow and opening fire – fireballs were no good with Ancalime in range, but summoned arrows worked just fine. The Falmer as one left Ancalime be, turning on her.

Liriel fought hard, Liriel fought well. Ancalime wasted no time diving into the shadows and getting out of the way while Liriel rained fire and lightning on them. But Liriel's powers had limits and she was heavily outnumbered.

Madanach help me, Madanach please...

Answering response of carefully controlled terror and a promise he'd come, and he was nearby now, not far at all. He was here, he was here, her ahmul was here.

So relieved was Liriel she missed the archer in the shadows – until her armour wore off and before she could refresh it, the poisoned arrow slammed into her. She staggered back, too surprised to even feel pain until the agony kicked in and her vision started to blur.

“Oh,” Liriel whispered, staring at the arrow in her gut, and then another hit her, sending her crashing to the floor. She could barely see but she was aware of three of them, two warriors and a mage, advancing.

Oh. I'm dead then. She couldn't fight them, not like this. She just hoped Cali had got away.

Madanach. Madanach, I love you. Take care of my babies for me.

Inarticulate cry of rage and fury down the bond and he was close, so close, and then the fireball slammed into one of the Falmer. Liriel blinked, rallying and was that her mother?? It surely was, armoured up, cloak blazing, reanimating a dead Falmer with one hand and flinging the other at one that had just leaped at her, a bound sword materialising in the Falmer's abdomen before Sabrinda ripped it out and sliced the creature's throat open.

Then lightning blazed, bolts slamming into the mage Falmer and sending it flying, and ebony arrows thudded into the other Falmer from seemingly out of nowhere. Then she saw him, male, human, wearing Harkon's old armour and Nahkriin's mask, moving seamlessly as high-powered Destruction spells smacked into enemies, stunning some and causing others to fall back, and Liriel knew, she just knew. Then three heavily armoured warriors tore in, all screaming battle-cries, and the human mage had left the fray to kneel by her side.

The bond told her all she needed to know, although she couldn't see his face.

“You came,” Liriel breathed, happy despite the pain, knowing it was going to be fine. Madanach loved her and Madanach was here, healing magic in both hands and the warmth felt amazing, it really did.

He didn't answer but the bond said it all. Of course I came for you, I love you, gods Liriel, don't die...

Liriel closed her eyes, finally letting go. Her husband was here. It was all going to be just fine...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Madanach didn't really remember a lot about how they'd got out of there. Only seeing Liriel down and injured, and quietly starting to panic. But he'd done battlefield surgery before, dealt with arrow wounds before. Telekinesis to draw the arrow out and thank the gods that the chest one had hit her sternum and was actually the least serious. The gut wound – it was bad. But he got both arrows out, sealed up what he could, but it was the blood loss and poison that frightened him most. What if it was too late, what if she died anyway, he couldn't bear it, all this was his fault, she was his wife, his everything, he needed her, the girls needed her, he'd never stay clean without her! He'd never get the poison out of his own veins on his own. Poison...

The little red antivenin was in his hands without even thinking about it, meant to be a medicine to purge the aftereffects of the Skooma – but he'd forego a dose if it saved Liriel's life. Without really thinking about it, he patted her face, rousing her enough to get her attention, get her half-conscious and then made her drink the entire bottle. She wailed, clearly hating the taste and seeing as he'd been forced to drink something similar only hours before, he empathised, he really did, but she wasn't dying. Not on his watch.

It seemed to help. The rest of the Falmer were dead or on the run, Sabrinda had found Cali and was clinging on to her and then Borkul was there, scooping Liriel up while Argis called for a retreat, both he and Jordis grabbing Cicero and hauling him out, the little lunatic whining copiously about wanting to avenge the Listener, and Argis snapping that she wasn't even dead yet.

Nor would she be, Madanach hoped but he didn't dare think about it. All he could think of was the love of his life in Borkul's arms, injured and hurt, all his fault, he should never have let her go, she should be safe in Markarth, he should...

He should get her back to Solitude. So he watched as Jordis mounted Shadowmere, took Liriel off Borkul and rode like the wind for Solitude, let his son take him in his arms and whisper they'd do everything they could for her, and tried not to think of Liriel leaving his life forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, and Sabrinda was settled in the Blue Palace guest suite, technically not a prisoner as the Thalmor would have got involved in the event of an arrest. No, just a guest of the Jarl after Falmer so tragically attacked her party and killed her husband, and if Elisif had her accompanied by guards whenever she left her rooms in order to replace the ones killed, that was merely a courtesy. Ancalime had been allowed to remain with her mother, Elisif not having the heart to separate them, not with Ancalime shaking all over and crying her eyes out, mourning her father deeply.

Liriel had been taken to Styrr at the Hall of the Dead for further treatment, Madanach refusing to leave her side despite being on the edge of a nervous collapse and needing sleep. Cicero likewise had refused to leave his Listener's side, but being at least moderately less exhausted and willing to do fetching and carrying and making himself useful, had been allowed to remain. Jordis also stayed to keep an eye on both Liriel and Cicero, but Argis and Borkul had ended up virtually dragging Madanach back to Proudspire Manor for sleep. Despite insisting he didn't need it, he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When he woke, it was to Cicero capering about excitedly in the next room, Borkul telling him to pipe down, he'd wake the King, and Jordis coming in with Liriel in her arms, looking a lot healthier. Styrr was behind her, looking satisfied and Madanach felt his heart skip.

“Liriel?” he whispered as Jordis laid her out on the bed. They'd exchanged her Archmage robes for a simple priestess's outfit, but she was still sleeping. She looked less pale though. “Is she going to be all right?”

“She's going to be fine,” Styrr promised. “Those antivenins worked a treat, I don't know where you got them from but I think they saved her life. Whoever gave her that immediate healing did a fine job.”

“Thank you,” Madanach whispered, stroking her face, her beautiful face. “What do I owe you for this?”

“For doing Arkay's work, nothing, although a donation would never be refused,” Styrr said gently. “She needs rest and sleep and to take it easy, and I've left a few potions of my own for her here. I'll see her again in a day or two, make sure she's healing well. In the mean time, Jordis and young Cicero here assure me they'll take care of her.”

“Cicero will!” Cicero chirped. “Cicero will tend to his Listener's every need! Madanach need not worry about a thing!”

Madanach wasn't sure how he felt about this, but any assistance was welcome and if he was doting on Liriel, at least he wasn't stabbing anyone.

“Thank you, Cicero, you're a good man,” Madanach said, stretching the definition of good man to its absolute limit. “Styrr, I'll be sure to reward the Priesthood of Arkay handsomely for this. Cicero, Jordis, both of you get some sleep, I think we all deserve it.”

The room cleared... all except for Styrr, who was hanging back, looking like he had something further to say.

“Something else?” Madanach asked and Styrr glanced over his shoulder before closing the door, coming to sit on the bed on Liriel's other side.

“Just one thing,” Styrr said quietly. “I just thought you ought to know, her child's also fine.”

“Of course they are, they're in Markarth,” Madanach said, confused until the septim dropped and his eyes fell on Liriel. “Wait... you don't mean...”

“She's pregnant, yes, about two months along, I think. Altmer pregnancies last about a year so that's not as far advanced as it sounds... you had no idea, did you?”

Madanach shook his head, dazed. “She never said,” he whispered. “She was on potions, we both were, we'd agreed it was best if we didn't because of the, you know, age gap. Didn't want to leave her a single mother – she can't be, are you sure?”

“Sure, I test all young women for it as soon as they come in, I need to know not to give them certain things otherwise. Unless that's the reason they're there of course. Madanach, you don't look so good.”

“She can't be,” Madanach whispered, the unfairness of it all hitting him. “She can't!”

“Is this not good news?” Styrr said softly. “Did you not want to...?”

“Of course I wanted to, but at my age... Sweet gods, it'll be half-blood, I'm not even going to see it grow up, this isn't... this isn't fair!”

“I know,” Styrr said gently, and Madanach guessed he must have seen this sort of thing hundreds of times. “I'll put some potions aside just in case... if Liriel hadn't said anything, there's a good chance she didn't know either. You talk it over with her and then both let me know what you decide.”

“I will. Thank you,” Madanach whispered. “Can you see yourself out? I need to be alone...”

“Of course,” Styrr said, taking his leave. “Blessings of Arkay on you both, Madanach.”

Madanach waited until the priest was gone before collapsing on the bed, shattered. The obvious choice, the rational choice, was for Liriel to get rid of it. Single parenthood, the child losing its father young – how old was Ancalime? She'd just lost her father, she was clearly devastated, Madanach didn't think he'd live another thirty years. That was leaving aside the Skooma addiction. Gods, Liriel didn't even know about that yet. And her father was dead, and there was still her mother to deal with, what happened to Ancalime no one knew but Madanach had a feeling they'd end up raising her with the girls. That was if Liriel still wanted him as a husband after this, doubtful to say the least.

But his heart was saying otherwise. His heart was filling his head with visions of a chubby little golden-skinned pointy-eared half-blood baby, and not all the trying to talk himself out of it was helping. He wanted that baby, wanted to get to know it, see it grow up, actually raise a child to adulthood and knowing it couldn't happen because of his own damn mortality... it was breaking his heart and now he knew how she felt. Time ticking away, no longer on his side, and he didn't want to die any more, he missed Kaie yes, but he was no longer quietly counting the days until he could finally die and be reunited with her. Not with a baby that would need a father.

He'd need to have a long conversation with Liriel. And Nepos and Eola and Keirine and the girls and sundry others. But if this all worked out... yes. For his pregnant wife and his child-to-be, he would do absolutely anything.

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

A/N: Poor Meryndor. I did want to save him but the rest of the fic goes easier with him gone. Poor Cali as well, the poor child's heartbroken - but also very resilient.

Poor Madanach and Liriel too. Their heads and all previous rational discussion have said 'no, no children, not fair on the kid'. But their hearts are going 'baby!' Next chapter, time for Madanach and Liriel to have a Serious Talk.

*hitting F5 as Cicero*

Wow that was intense. I didn't see that coming at all. I am eagerly awaiting the next part.

D: meryn nuu.

"xx

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