18+ The Crazy Madanach and The DragonQueen

  • Welcome to Skyrim Forums! Register now to participate using the 'Sign Up' button on the right. You may now register with your Facebook or Steam account!
  • Hey there, thanks for visiting our fan fiction section. You should only write stories that aren't related to your character's encounters, if you wish to write a story about your character please post an entry in your blog.

    Before reading or writing a story, please make sure to read this thread. Thanks, Guest, and we hope you enjoy this section.

NagisaHighElf

New Member
This was degrading. Humiliating. BEYOND humiliating. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant from the Summerset Isles. Archmage of the College of Winterhold! Listener of the Dark Brotherhood! (Not that that meant a lot what with Astrid still maintaining an iron grip on Falkreath Sanctuary.) The damn Dragonborn! They had no right to treat her like this. She wasn't some vagrant or vagabond, she was a lady, couldn't they see? She'd tried to tell that horrible Orc guard that this had all been a terrible misunderstanding, but to no avail. She could have sworn the woman had looked pleased at the idea of a high and mighty Altmer brought low.

"Lady, huh?" the Orc had growled. "You'll fit right in in Cidhna then, they've even got a king down there. Open her up, boys!"

The gates had opened, and dressed only in a set of prison rags, robbed of her usual finery, Liriel the Dragonborn had been cast into Cidhna Mine. For a string of murders she'd not even carried out, which considering the number of murders she had committed without ever being caught, was deeply unfair and unjust in her mind.

She wasn't going to cry. She was not going to cry! She was the Dragonborn, the heir of Ysmir, the Dragon of the North and she was not going to cry. They might have taken everything else, but she still had her pride... and she still had her magic. She would get out of here or die trying. How, she wasn't exactly sure, not yet. But she could start with the man whose agents had got her dragged into this mess in the first place.

"Hello," she said, walking up to a grey-haired, yellow-eyed prisoner sitting by the fire. "I'm looking for the King in Rags."

Liriel hated this place. Just as she thought her humiliation was complete, she'd find another degradation heaped on her. Finding out there were no private toilet facilities, you just found a quiet corner and got on with it. All the men glancing at her constantly and leering at her, especially that Orc, Borkul. When he'd demanded a toll and looked her up and down like a piece of meat, for a horrible moment she'd thought he'd want sexual services.

He'd grinned and just asked for a shiv instead. So off she'd gone to find one, to talk to Grisvar the Unlucky. He'd said yes but the price was Skooma. She'd had to pretend to be the worst kind of drug addict to get some. But it had worked and now she was on her way to see the King in Rags himself.

She had no idea what she was going to say to him. Demand he get her out of here this instant? Threaten to kill him? Both? She wasn't sure, but she trusted the words would come. They usually did.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A small-ish room carved out of the dirt, a bed, a proper bed and not a stone one either! A chest, a table and chair, a few barrels – not the height of opulence but a luxury compared to the rest of the prison.

Madanach himself was dressed in the same prison rags she was, once-blonde hair turned silver, grimy skin but considerably cleaner than the rest of the prisoners. Presumably someone brought a bath in for him every once in a while. Liriel could have wept at the realisation that that was something likely denied to everyone else. A bath every so often and a proper bed, dear Mara, was this what her life had come to, that the thought of either was bringing tears to her eyes?

Focus, Liriel, focus, she told herself. She needed to confront Madanach, not be throwing herself at his feet and begging to borrow his bed for a few hours.

Right now, he was busy sitting at his desk, writing a letter of some sort. More killing orders for his Forsworn underlings? She didn't know and didn't care. She just wanted out of here.

"What is it, I told Borkul no visitors," Madanach growled, glancing up at her. He looked at her, paused, laid down his quill and sat back in his chair, turning to face her properly, not even bothering to hide the fact that his eyes were roaming quite freely over her body. Liriel shuddered, fighting the urge to be sick. She was not some piece of meat to be lusted after by this degenerate bandit!

"Well now. You're rather more attractive than most of the visitors I get down here. Is this a social call? Or did you have a more specific purpose in mind?" The tone of voice left no doubt as to what he was hoping that specific purpose might be. Liriel bit her tongue, digging her nails into her palms. While she was of course quite capable of roasting him alive, that wouldn't get her out of this vermin-pit any faster.

"I want my freedom," she hissed. "I'm in here for murders your people carried out, on your orders, and damned if I'm staying in this skeever-den any longer than I have to! So you're going to get me out of here or I'll – I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" Madanach asked, his voice a low, rasping growl more like a beast's than a human's. "Kill me? Melt my face off? Turn me to ice and shatter me with lightning? Oh, you can do all those things, pretty Elf. You could kill me right now if you wanted. But that won't change the fact that as far as the world above is concerned, you're the one who killed all those people. Margret, Eltrys, Thonar Silver-Blood's wife and those humble Reachman servants who were trying to protect her, including sweet old Nana Ildene who never hurt anyone."

"Nana Ildene raised Betrid's corpse from the dead and turned her against her own husband!" Liriel cried, losing her temper. She was quite sure she'd never hated anyone quite so much in her life. And Madanach had the audacity to sit there and laugh.

"So I heard!" he laughed, getting to his feet. "Wish I'd been there to see it." The laughter faded as he approached, circling behind her and managing to look imposing despite being two inches shorter than her. "I know you, Liriel," he murmured into her ear, trailing a finger along the point of her ear and down through her long red hair. "I've heard all about you. All sorts of... rumours. I'm prepared to believe you're a powerful mage. I'm prepared to believe you can swing a sword if you have to. You might even be Archmage, although I'm surprised the Archmage was slumming it out here. I'm not sure about this Dragonborn nonsense though, and I'm not even going to comment on... darker stories. But I do know that up there right now, the Empire-loving Dragonborn of legend is being talked of as nothing more than a common murderer."

"I am no common murderer, you lowlife piece of trash," Liriel hissed, itching to have at him and be done with it. No one spoke to her like this, no one!

"An uncommon one, then," Madanach laughed, backing off. "Whatever, they threw you in here with us anyway. You're not the Dragonborn in here, Liriel. Not the Archmage, not a Tribune in the Imperial Legion, not anything. You're a beast like the rest of us, a slave, the boot of the Nord tramping on your face forever. And ever. And. Ever. Kill me, escape on your own, your reputation is still in tatters. But if you understood us, understood what we're truly about... perhaps I could help you."

Liriel understood very little of this, not why this infuriating human was taunting her like this, nor why she was letting him and had yet to burn him from the inside out. Patience, she told herself. Just hear him out.

"What do you want?" she said, gritting her teeth. Madanach returned to his seat, leaning back in it like any Jarl on his throne.

"Well now, pretty Elf. I want you to get out there and listen for me. Think you can do that?"

Well, how very ironic. She was tempted to tell him she only listened for the Night Mother, but given that thanks to Astrid, she'd yet to follow the one order the Night Mother had ever given her, it seemed a bit pointless. So she just nodded.

"Good. There's a prisoner called Braig, apart from me he's been here the longest. Go and talk to him, tell him I sent you. Ask him how he ended up here. Listen to him. Void it, go and talk to them all, they've all got tales to tell, all the Reachmen anyway. When you're done, come back here and then perhaps we can talk." Without even bothering to dismiss her, he turned back to whatever he was writing.

"That – that's it?" Liriel asked, confused. "You just want me to talk to the other prisoners?"

"That's what I said, didn't I?" Madanach said, still not looking up.

"Right, right," said Liriel faintly. "I'll, er, do that then." Madanach didn't even bother responding and Liriel felt the urge to fling a lightning bolt at his back. But it wouldn't get her anywhere. Arrogant son-of-a-skeever. When she got out of here – and she would – she'd show him who was boss. He could lord it in Cidhna Mine all he liked, but when it came to it, he was stuck in here while she had the whole of Skyrim to play in.

What felt like hours later, and she must have spoken to every Reachman in the place, asking for their stories. She'd started with Braig, and worked her way through, and every time, although the details differed, the story stayed the same. Nords murdering one man's entire family. Nords making another destitute by taking his livelihood. Nords killing Braig's little girl in front of him and arresting him anyway. Nords, always the Nords, from Ulfric Stormcloak to the Silver-Bloods to their cronies on the street. Not all of them, of course, Liriel knew full well that one faction was not an entire people – she'd been called Thalmor often enough to know that. But she knew what injustice looked like, and this was it.

She'd never really thought about who the Forsworn were before. She'd fought them, of course – finding the Sybil of Dibella and taking Sky Haven Temple for the Blades had brought her into contact with them, but she'd thought of them as little more than savages. Fanatical, deadly, magic-wielding savages, of course, but savages nonetheless.

They still were, of course. But they were savage for a reason. It wasn't that they didn't know any better. They were vengeful because they'd been forced to be. They were lethal because they chose to be. They'd reacted to humiliation and injustice by taking to the hills, retreating to the shadows, striking out of nowhere in a rain of blood, haunting the Nords' nightmares even as the same Nords tried to oppress them.

They were the killers that Astrid's Dark Brotherhood wished they were. Liriel couldn't help but admire that. So it was in a rather different frame of mind that Liriel returned to Madanach.

"I did what you said," she told him. "I Listened."

"Good, good," said Madanach, glancing up, actually looking curious. "What did you learn?"

"I learned that Ulfric Stormcloak really is a fuzzy kitten," Liriel said, mouth running away before her brain could process what she'd just said and stop it. She put her hand to her mouth, horrified. This place was getting to her. It was all getting to her, the lack of sleep, the dirt, the lack of privacy, the hunger, all the tales of woe she'd just had to sit through. All of it completely eroding her self-control and turning her into the worst kind of slum-dweller.

Madanach looked at her dead in the eye for all of two seconds before bursting out laughing, throwing his head back as if what she'd just said was hilarious. It was some minutes before he dried his eyes and pulled himself together.

"He is that," Madanach agreed, finally smiling. "All right, girl, I'll help you. I just need one thing from you."

"Something else?" Liriel cried. She'd just spent the last hour listening to stories of outrage and misery and watching grown men cry in front of her. She was tired, drained, worn out, she just needed sleep in her nice, warm bed at Breezehome or the Sanctuary or anywhere really. "What more do you want from me?"

Madanach's eyes flicked over her and for a moment, she thought he was going to ask for sex and that really did bring tears to her eyes. Altmer were not prey to such base urges, they were monogamous creatures who saved themselves for the purity of finding their one true love. Liriel hadn't found hers yet but she was very certain it wasn't this barbarian.

Mercifully, it was something else entirely he wanted.

"There's a prisoner here, a Nord by the name of Grisvar the Unlucky. You might know him already. He's a thief and a snitch, and I think he's a Silver-Blood plant. He's outlived what minor usefulness he did have. Take care of him and we'll be on our – I'm sorry, am I keeping you up?"

Liriel tried to close her mouth in an attempt to stop the yawn. To no avail. Madanach was glaring, eyebrows knotting together as he frowned at her.

"I'm sorry," she said guiltily. "I – do you know what time it is? I think it was late when they threw me in here and I don't know when I last slept..."

Madanach said nothing, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"I wouldn't know, I lost track of time years ago. I sleep when I'm tired, eat when I'm hungry."

Hungry. Mara, she was so hungry, she'd not eaten in forever either. And thirsty too, so very thirsty... She could feel tears pricking at her eyeballs again, and dammit she was not going to cry in front of this... this animal!

"I'm not tired right now," said Madanach, watching her, the frown gone but she really couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Here, take my bed. Grisvar's not going anywhere, get some sleep first."

"I – what?" she whispered, sure her sleep-deprived brain was making her hear things. Madanach growled, got up and flung back the covers on his bed.

"Take. The. Bed," he said firmly. Liriel didn't argue. She crawled into it, feeling soft furs against her skin and she almost cried as her body relaxed. Madanach drew the covers over her, returning to his chair.

"What about you?" she whispered, watching him, silhouetted in the candlelight. He just shrugged.

"Don't worry about me. I'm a Forsworn, I can cope with a little discomfort. It's not the worst to have ever happened to me."

Liriel wondered what the worst to have happened was, but she didn't ask. Before she could frame a coherent sentence, her eyes closed and sleep claimed her.

When she woke up, it was dark, the candles having burned down or been put out. For a second she thought herself at home, but then she smelt someone else on the blankets, a musky, male, human scent, and in a flash her eyes were open, heart pounding as she remembered where she was.

One magelight later and at least she could see. The room seemed unchanged from last night, Madanach still sitting at his desk – no, not sitting. Slumped over it, head resting on folded arms, and for a moment, Liriel's heart almost stopped. Sithis, no, please don't have taken him, he's my ticket out of here! Not to mention that no one would believe she'd not killed him.

She leaned over, touching his cheek and breathed a sigh of relief as she felt warm skin and saw him breathing. Just tired then. Damn the man, why'd he not woken her? She was an elf, she could cope without a bit of sleep. He was an old man and needed rest. Well, she assumed so anyway. She wasn't terribly good at telling how old humans were, and she still struggled sometimes with working out what a human age meant in Altmer terms.

However, despite being a skilled assassin and not-terribly-ethical mage who'd trafficked with more than one Daedra in her time, she always used to pray to Mara as a girl, and she still had a lot of affection for the goddess of love and compassion. Returning to the bed, she picked the pillow up and gently lifted Madanach's head. He stirred, muttering something under his breath, but did not wake as she placed the pillow on the desk and laid his head back on it. Then she took one of the furs off the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. It wasn't that chilly down here, but it got damp. She couldn't have him get cold.

"Sleep well," she whispered, slipping away. Time to prove Grisvar the Unlucky aptly named.

When she came back, mage armour still clinging to her and Grisvar's smoking remains lying on the ground while several nervous Forsworn prisoners poked at them, Madanach was stirring, blinking under the bright light of a candlelight spell.

"Did you leave this pillow here?" he demanded. "And the blanket?"

She should really have known better than to expect gratitude from the ill-mannered brute.

"Who else was in here?" Liriel said, not bothering with a shred of courtesy any more. If he wasn't going to show any, damned if she was.

He was frowning again. "Why'd you do that?" he snapped. Liriel just shrugged.

"Because you'd fallen asleep and didn't look any too comfortable, I was awake and didn't need them. No other reason although I'm beginning to wish I hadn't bothered. I killed Grisvar. Can we go now?" Or would there be some other thing she needed to do, some other hoop to jump through? Was he going to keep the promise of freedom hanging over her forever while he turned her into some sort of pet?

It was a clear sign this place was getting to her that the prospect of Madanach taking care of her almost made it all bearable.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he smirked at her. "All right, Dragonborn, let's get you out of here. Old gods forbid your dainty little hands go another day without their moisturising lotions."

Liriel's dainty little hands were going to be dual-casting Thunderbolt right at his heart if he didn't shut up soon, but fortunately the taste of freedom had a way of calming her.

"Lead the way," was all she said as she followed him out.

Later on, Liriel would remember very little of the escape itself, just running, recasting her armour, hoping her magicka wouldn't run out as she followed Madanach and the others through a section of Nchuand-Zel, the dwarven ruins under Markarth, fighting off spiders and Dwemer spheres, but mercifully no Falmer. Finally, the tunnel came to an end, huge Dwemer doors leading out into the city itself. Liriel came to a halt before them. Freedom lay beyond those doors. Freedom – except in these rags, it would be short-lived at best. She'd have to run for it, using her wits and her magic and not stopping until she was far from the city, and here was hoping she didn't run into a dragon. Sky Haven Temple wasn't that far – she didn't relish having to explain to Delphine just exactly how she'd ended up like this, but at least there'd be a bath and a bed and she could change into some Blades armour. She was no heavy armour specialist, but it would keep her safe enough until she got to Whiterun.

She was surprised then to see a young Forsworn woman step out of the shadows, and even more surprised to have her pack flung at her feet.

"You'd be Liriel, I take it," the young woman said, amused. "Not many Altmer end up in Cidhna Mine."

"Who are you?" Liriel asked, utterly confused. "And how did you know I'd be here?"

"I've got my sources," the woman said cryptically. "You should get changed, you know. All your things should be in there. Had to slit a few throats to get them, but it's all there. One set of what looks like the robes of the Archmage of Winterhold, one shiny glowing golden sword, about forty assorted soul gems, an entire apothecary's worth of potions, approximately half of which might actually be useful, an nice Elven bow and various arrows including some fancy glass ones, a coin purse with enough in it to buy this city, a keyring with about forty keys on it, twenty scrolls, what looks just like Azura's Star, a nice looking amulet I almost kept for myself, an ebony dagger that bears a suspicious resemblance to a very valuable one stolen from the Hags a few weeks back but I'm sure that's just a coincidence, a complete set of the Shrouded Armour and Shrouded Robes of the Dark Brotherhood -" At this the woman paused and just looked Liriel dead in the eye for a few seconds, clearly considering this rather carefully. "Assorted jewellery, ingots and gemstones, and I don't even want to know how you got hold of the Ring of Namira," she finally concluded. "In a way, you're fortunate you're carrying so much crap around. The guards couldn't be arsed to catalogue it and left it all in a big heap until they could be bothered to look at it."

Liriel didn't care. She was already dragging the pack behind a pillar, gleefully rooting through it, hunting for her beloved Shrouds. On it went, her black and red armour that fitted her like a glove and with it, she felt the indignities of the last few days fading. She was the Night Mother's Listener, a true-born daughter of Sithis, she had her magic, she had her Shrouds, she had Dawnbreaker, the Gauldur Amulet, Namira's Ring, Nettlebane, everything, back with her again. Time to do some killing. She put on everything except her cowl, preferring to keep her face free for just a little longer, and emerged to see Madanach had caught up with her. He'd exchanged his prison rags for a full set of Forsworn armour, missing only the stag headdress which was still in his hand – and he had his arms around the Forsworn girl.

Well, she'd known he was a fearsome old reprobate, but even she'd thought he had standards. That girl was young enough to be his daughter, surely?

"Kaie, cariad, it's good to see you," he murmured, holding her in a bear hug. Kaie was squeezing him back, then they let each other go, both smiling. Liriel hadn't realised the King in Rags actually could smile. He looked years younger when he did.

"I'm always visiting you, Da," said Kaie, laughing softly. "But it's good to see you dressed like you should be at last. What kept you?"

Madanach just shrugged. "Never seemed like the right time. But Keirine sent word that the stars were right and that if I didn't leave now, I never would. So here I am. Missed me?"

"Yes," Kaie laughed, hugging him again. "Yes, absolutely, I've missed my fearless battlemage father, striking fear into the hearts of the Nords. The fight's been boring without you!"

"You were nine years old when they took me, you've never fought at my side," said Madanach softly, stroking the girl's face, looking indescribably sad. "I'm sorry, macreena."

"We'll make up for it now," Kaie promised, eyes burning with pride. She was his daughter. The King in Rags had a daughter. Liriel had had no idea, although she supposed Madanach wouldn't want his family in harm's way if he could help it. Were there any other kids around? Another daughter? A son? Did that mean there was a wife out there somewhere? Liriel didn't know, but she was curious. She stepped out into the light, wondering what happened now. Maybe she should just take her leave, but once she did, would that be it? Back to being picked on by every Forsworn in sight? She'd fight them if she had to – but part of her didn't want to now. She felt sorry for them. Their cause was near hopeless, but their willingness to pursue it was admirable and their bloodlust in doing so was something she could respect.

Kaie and Madanach glanced up, Kaie looking her over and smirking, while Madanach... He took one look at her and his eyes widened.

"So it is true," he murmured. "You're one of the Brotherhood."

"It's not something I like to brag about," Liriel admitted. Not to anyone she intended to keep alive anyway.

"No, I don't suppose it is," Madanach laughed. "Don't worry, I don't mind. Be a bit hypocritical for me to judge, wouldn't it now? Kaie, this is the one I told you about. Liriel, Queen of Dragons."

Liriel could feel herself blushing and if it wasn't bad form to slap someone in front of their children, she might just have done it.

"I'm not the queen of the dragons!" she protested. "I've just killed a few of them."

"Did you hear that, daughter," Madanach said, turning back to Kaie. "Just killed a few dragons, she says, like it's no big deal, people go out and routinely kill the things all the time. Not that I've had the chance to see one yet, but I'm imagining they're not exactly small, are they?"

"Great big scaly things with teeth the size of an Orc's thigh-bone that fly, breathe fire and hate all humanity," said Kaie, summing up dragons rather well in Liriel's view. "Difficult to kill, and while I can't swear to it, I'm sure we've killed them, left the body, come back a day or so later and the damn thing's gone. Then surprise, surprise, there's another dragon looking very similar flying around. Da, I think the damn things are immortal."

"They are," Liriel said quietly. "But I can kill them permanently. If... if you're ever having dragon trouble, send word to me. I'll help you sort it out for good."

"Thank you, Mighty Queen of Dragons, should the combined might of the Forsworn no longer avail us, we'll be sure to petition for you to rise from your feather bed and your bath of warm bear's milk and give us a hand," Madanach growled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a city to break out of."

"Wait, that's it?" Liriel demanded, flexing her fingers, feeling the magicka pooling in her hands just ready to unleash fire and death the next time he called her Mighty Queen of Dragons in that tone of voice. "No goodbye or anything? Not even a thank you for helping you break out?"

"I could have got out of this mine any time I felt like it, Dragon-Queen," Madanach said, glaring back at her with his hands on his hips. "You were the one petitioning me for freedom, remember? Still, I suppose I owe you something for your trouble. Seeing as it's sort of my fault you ended up in there in the first place. Kaie, have you got the special armour there?"

Kaie handed over a set of Forsworn armour, this set gleaming with enchantments. "Here you go. But why – Da! This is Ma's old armour! From... from before. You're giving it to her, why?"

"Your mother's dead, Kaie," said Madanach softly. "And even before she died – she'd not needed this for a long time, you know that. I'm thinking the Dragon-Queen Daughter of Sithis might find it useful."

He held it out to her, and Liriel took it, looking it over. It looked like ordinary Forsworn armour, if you could call that gear armour. But the magic – oh, the magic. Sneaking and archery and extra magicka and a boost to Destruction magic – oh yes. She could definitely use this stuff.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it," Madanach shrugged. "A king should be generous to those that helped him. And you did help me."

"You said yourself you'd have broken out anyway sooner or later," Liriel felt obliged to point out.

"True," Madanach admitted. "But I'm not one to offend the old gods by slighting their priestess."

Priestess? Liriel hadn't the faintest idea what that even meant, and as for slighting her, he'd barely stopped mocking her from the moment she'd walked in to his cell. It would take more than fancy armour to mollify her. Even if it did mean she now could look the part of a proper Forsworn warrior.

"I'm not a priestess," she told him. Now both Kaie and Madanach were looking at her as if she were simple.

"They've really lost their way, haven't they?" Kaie said, looking rather condescending.

"How have the mighty fallen," said Madanach quietly, no trace of a smile on his face. "Listen, Liriel, it's probably best you don't come with us tonight. Just get yourself out of Markarth, go home. Don't worry about your reputation either, after tonight they'll all know who to blame and fear. But after, if any of what you heard in Cidhna Mine still resonates... you'll find me at Druadach Redoubt in the north of the Reach. You'll be welcome there. Of course, I'd take care in the rest of the Reach if I were you. Nowhere will be safe now."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," said Liriel, fully intending to get out of the Reach as soon as possible and not return any time soon if she could possibly avoid it. All the same, she couldn't help but wish them well.

Madanach pulled his headdress on and turned to the other prisoners, all now changed into Forsworn armour, armed and waiting patiently.

"All right, brothers, I'm not going to give a long speech. You all know what you have to do, and after being stuck in Cidhna Mine, you don't need me to preach to you about why you should be fighting. So we're going to get out there and remind the world who we are." He drew his sword, not the stone weaponry the others were carrying, but a fine glass sword with a fire enchantment on it, and used his off-hand to cast his mage armour. "Let's go kill some Nords."

Cheering from the assembled prisoners as they charged for the exit as one. Kaie whooped for joy, cast her own mage armour and ran after them, dual-wielding two very sharp-looking Forsworn axes that looked like they were coated in poison. Madanach was last to leave, giving her one last look as he grinned at her.

"Welcome to the Forsworn, Dragon-Queen. I'll see you at Druadach." He clapped her on the shoulder and ran for the door.

"I'll see you in Oblivion first," Liriel muttered, pulling her cowl on. Arrogant, obnoxious, Forsworn son of a bitch. The fact that being told 'welcome to the Forsworn' had put a smile on her face that just wouldn't shift no matter how much she heaped silent insults on Madanach's retreating back was neither here nor there.




Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 

NagisaHighElf

New Member
Chapter Two

Markarth had been awash with blood and death that night – Thonar Silver-Blood had only been the first of many to die. Mostly guards but even so, the screams would stay with Liriel for a while.

She'd done as Madanach had suggested, kept her head down and ran for the gates, darting past the guards and out, grabbing her horse from the stables and riding for home as fast she could. She'd not stopped until the Druadachs fell away and the tundra rose to meet her, Whiterun silhouetted on the horizon. Whiterun. Beautiful, peaceful Whiterun, where everyone knew her and trusted her, where no one was murdering anyone on the streets and certainly no one was framing her for it. Whiterun. Home, and the place where she kept the most precious and valuable of all her treasures.

She finally got in to Whiterun in the early evening, having been on the road for nearly twelve hours, saddle-sore and weary but finally home. She let herself in to Breezehome, hoping news of her arrest hadn't made it as far as Whiterun.

"MAMA!"

And there they were, the two lights of her life, more precious than any Daedric artefact. Her two baby girls, adopted of course, but she'd seen them and been unable to resist taking them home. Lucia, who she'd run into on her very first visit to Whiterun, learnt was a homeless orphan and made a point of giving money and food to whenever she saw her, right up until she had enough coin saved to finally buy Breezehome and get it furnished. Then she'd gone to Lucia on one of the coldest, wettest days she'd seen yet and shyly asked the girl if she'd be willing to let her adopt her. Lucia had hugged her in disbelief and nodded, and Liriel had taken her home.

Sissel was a different story – she'd had a father and sister out in Rorikstead; a father and sister who'd bullied and ill-treated her constantly. Liriel had been furious to see it happening, and after remonstrating with Lemkil had done no good, a return visit and a stealthy arrow from the hills had solved the problem. She'd stopped by again a day later and when she'd left, Sissel had come with her. Now both little girls lived at Breezehome, and Lydia, her housecarl, took care of them both when Liriel was away.

Liriel might be a murderer, Liriel might be a thief, but Liriel still believed in Lady Mara and Liriel couldn't have walked away from them. They were her babies and though they were human, she adored them both.

"Mama, you're home!" Lucia cried, flinging her arms around her mother. "We missed you!"

"Ri'saad the Khajiit told us you'd been arrested!" Sissel cried. "He said you'd been locked up in a dungeon in Markarth and were never coming home!"

Liriel was going to wring that cat's neck next time she saw him.

"It's all right," Liriel soothed, kneeling down and putting her arms around them both. "I did end up in prison for something I didn't do, but it was all a terrible misunderstanding and it's all sorted out now. I'm home and safe, I promise you."

"We knew you'd come back, Mama," Lucia murmured into Liriel's hair. "We knew you wouldn't leave us."

"Never," Liriel whispered, kissing them both in turn. They all hugged for a few minutes, then Liriel let them go, smiling to see them both again. Already they both looked so different from the downtrodden little things she'd taken in. They'd both put on weight, they both had nice clothes now, they both looked so much happier and more confident. Liriel held hands with them both, just glad to see them again. Of course that was when she realised the sleeves on Lucia's dress, once wrist length, were now half an inch shorter.

"Lucia, has your dress shrunk?" Liriel asked, alarmed. Were they not being washed properly? She'd heard of that happening, but the water had to be fairly hot to do that to clothes.

"Oh! No, Mama, it's just Lydia says I've grown," Lucia said shyly, pulling her hair in front of her face. "It's fine, I don't mind it like this."

Liriel's heart went out to the poor thing. Both of them were still so pathetically grateful for anything she gave them, from food to toys to books to clothes. As if they were afraid she'd send them away if they complained.

"Don't be silly, sweetie, you can't walk around in clothes that are too small for you. I shall be sure to get you some more as soon as I can. Sissel, what about you, are you all right for clothes?"

It turned out Sissel's dress no longer fastened properly at the back either. New clothes needed for both then. Liriel had to wonder if this was, well, normal. Sissel said she was seven, Lucia thought she was nine, but that meant nothing to Liriel. Altmer of that age were still in the cradle. This growing so fast, was it normal? Were human children meant to do that? She had no idea and didn't know who to ask without sounding like an idiot. Still, her girls looked healthy and happy apart from the frightening growth rate. She wouldn't worry too much just yet. Lydia hadn't seemed to think anything was amiss so Liriel supposed there was nothing too odd in it.

Lydia arrived from downstairs, having heard the noise and guessed Liriel was back.

"Liriel, my Thane, thank Mara you're back. Ri'saad was telling me the most bizarre stories. You ended up in Cidhna Mine? Something to do with the Forsworn?" Lydia hauled her off to one side, as the two girls ran off to get ready for dinner. "My Thane, what in Nirn happened?"

"It's hard to explain," Liriel admitted. "Yes, I got arrested, but I didn't do it, I was framed. I ended up in Cidhna Mine anyway though, but I got out. It's fine, Lydia, you don't need to worry."

"Don't I?" Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow. "Liriel, I know you've got... affiliations. But you've also got two little girls who were heartbroken to think you might not be coming home. I'll take care of them, yes, but I'm not their mother. You are. You're the one who rescued them both, the one they adore and look up to, and if you've managed to get yourself mixed up in something you can't handle..."

"I said it's fine!" Liriel snapped. Lydia flinched back then lowered her eyes, contrite.

"Of course it is, I didn't mean to pry," she said quickly. "But if you're in some sort of trouble..."

"I was," said Liriel shortly. "But I got out of it. Everyone knows now it wasn't me who killed all those people and I got to escape. End of story, I'm home, can we all get on with our lives now please?"

Lydia looked up at that.

"You escaped? How? No one escapes Cidhna Mine! It's the most secure prison in the country!"

Liriel allowed herself a little smile at this. She'd have to think of a suitable story to be able to tell people. She wasn't sure Madanach would appreciate her telling everyone he'd helped her get out.

"I had a little help," was all she felt safe saying about that. "Come on, let's have dinner, I want to see my girls again!"

Lydia backed off and let it go, knowing when not to push her Thane for information. It wasn't always healthy to know too much about what Liriel got up to, and Liriel was just thankful her housecarl knew the value of discretion. An association with the Forsworn was something Liriel did not want getting out if she could help it.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered how Madanach was doing. Had Kaie got him out of the city, had he made it to Druadach Redoubt? How was he adjusting to being free? She remembered him telling her he'd lost track of time years ago. She hoped he was coping with a world that had day and night in it again. He wasn't in bad health exactly, not that she had noticed, but she'd seen the lines on his face while he'd slept. He was getting old for a human, and he'd already been the Forsworn leader when they'd sent him to prison twenty years ago, married with a nine year old daughter – not a green youth then. How he'd survived down there without losing his mind, Liriel wasn't sure, but she respected him for it. She just hoped he'd not managed to survive in Cidhna only to go to pieces once he got out. Not that she liked him, certainly not. He was a stubborn, cantankerous old bastard with a vicious streak a mile wide, but he'd treated her well. Let her borrow his bed, not kicked her out when he'd needed sleep, not taken advantage. He wasn't all bad, and he was entitled to a little compassion too, even if he definitely didn't deserve it.

"Mama, there was a man in town today giving out leaflets to travellers, but I asked him nicely and he gave me one too." Sissel was shoving a piece of paper over to her. "It's about a museum opening in Dawnstar. Mama, can we go?"

A museum? In Dawnstar? Who on earth would open one there, it wasn't the most visited of places. Liriel took the pamphlet and read. Some sort of museum dedicated to the Mythic Dawn. Wasn't that the cult that sparked off the Oblivion Crisis? Why would anyone open a museum about them? And in Dawnstar of all places?

"I'll go and see if it's at all interesting," Liriel promised. "Dawnstar's a long way and very cold. I wouldn't want to take you all the way there only to find out it's really boring."

Sissel pouted, but Liriel remained firm. She certainly wasn't risking her girls on this one – last time she'd visited Dawnstar she'd got mixed up in destroying a Daedric artefact and saving the town from nightmares. Fun but not something she'd want her children involved with, thank you very much. Still, a museum trip didn't sound too dangerous. Not like the owner was planning to summon Mehrunes Dagon himself, right?

Liriel cursed as she dodged arrows and fireballs and hid behind a ward, beating a hasty retreat from Hag Rock Redoubt. Welcome to the Forsworn, Madanach had said. These are your new brothers, Madanach had said. Here, have some fancy armour to look the part, Madanach had said.

Clearly these bastards hadn't got the memo yet. Liriel abandoned all hope of retrieving the damn pommel stone and fled down the hill, letting her Atronach deal with anyone following her. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't. She'd survived the Orc stronghold and actually broken in without needing to kill Ghunzul in the end. She'd broken into Jorgen's cabin in Morthal with no problems whatsoever. Now she was back in the Reach, trying to obtain what she had naively thought would be an easy part of Mehrunes Razor to find, and here she was, up against this. They had a troll, for Sithis' sake! She'd even worn the Armour of the Old Gods Madanach had given her but it hadn't helped. Cutting her losses, she ran to where she'd left her horse. Someone had a lot of explaining to do.

Many hours riding, but she found the place in the end. A craggy outpost in the Druadach Valley, nestling under a cliff – Druadach Redoubt, where Madanach had told her she'd be welcome. She'd better be. She wasn't sure she'd survive another camp of Forsworn attacking her.

There was a small group of them, sitting around outside in the late afternoon sun, a campfire going and a small tent nearby, just inside the wooden stockade, complete with goat's heads on pikes at the actual entrance. Very tasteful.

Liriel dismounted, leaving her horse by a nearby juniper tree, and made her way over, suddenly feeling her throat dry up. A couple of Forsworn looked her way and sat up, reaching for weapons, until the woman next to them motioned for them to sit down. Liriel recognised Kaie and her nerves eased a little... then she realised the Forsworn man standing up, staring intently at the sky, was Madanach himself.

He hadn't seemed to notice her yet. Too busy watching something. Or maybe just getting reacquainted with the sky after too long inside. He had his right hand raised, clearly focused on something. Liriel approached and then stopped a few feet away, wondering what on earth he was doing. She had her answer when seconds later, a shadow flickered over the ground and Madanach launched a lightning bolt into the sky. Something crashed to the ground, and Madanach punched the air, laughing.

"Still got it!" he announced, sounding extremely cheerful. One of the Forsworn ran off to collect whatever poor creature Madanach had just shot down, presumably a hawk or something.

"Well done, Da!" Kaie called from where she was sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Knew you could do it."

"I try," Madanach shrugged. Only three weeks since they'd broken out of prison together, and already he was looking healthier, less haggard. Cleaner, certainly – he looked like he'd bathed only that morning – and he didn't look nearly as pale. Back in Cidhna Mine, he'd had a certain charisma about him. Here in daylight, dressed in Forsworn gear with a sword at his side, he practically resonated power. The pent-up anger and frustration had dissipated – no, found an outlet and transmuted into an aura of calm menace. Liriel swallowed nervously, remembering an afternoon she'd spent at Solitude Docks trying to shoot down hawks for the feathers and failing, and there was Madanach managing it without even breaking a sweat. Madanach of Druadach was a very dangerous man, and now said dangerous man had noticed she was here.

"I wondered when you'd come back," he said, grinning as his eyes roamed all over her. Did the man have no shame? Of course not, she belatedly began to recall.

"And you're wearing my armour. Even better. It suits you."

It barely covered her and she'd had to use Stoneflesh before she could feel remotely secure in it. No doubt that was part of the appeal as far as Madanach was concerned.

"Madanach," she said, trying to keep her voice level. Damned if she was giving him the satisfaction of letting him know just how much he was getting to her. "I thought I should see how you were doing. I know after so long underground adjusting to surface life must be difficult."

Madanach laughed once, still with that infuriating grin in place and turned to Kaie. "Did you hear that, m'inyeen? The Dragon-Queen was worried about me. She couldn't focus on her slaying of dragons and studies of the arcane and murdering the innocent because she was too busy fearing for my wellbeing. Liriel, I'm touched."

Ah yes. This was why she'd not come back before. He might have looked gentle and vulnerable while he'd been asleep, but awake he was all snide remarks and arrogantly lording it over everyone. Why she'd ever thought to be concerned was beyond her.

"Yes, well, you're clearly fine, so I shall be on my way. Good luck with your, er, claiming back the Reach." Liriel turned, preparing to leave. She'd get that pommel stone another way. Maybe Erandur could be persuaded to help...

Madanach's hand clamped down on her arm, and as she turned round, icy glare in place to challenge him, she saw, for the briefest of seconds, genuine fear in his eyes. Only for a second, but it was there.

"Don't... you don't have to go," he said, sounding a little awkward. "I mean, you've come all the way out here, it's going to be dark soon, why don't you stay and have dinner with us? We've got beds to spare, it's no bother."

"Let go of me," said Liriel calmly, and to her surprise, he actually did. That was unexpected. She'd thought he'd tighten his grip just to annoy her. She'd not expected him to actually honour her wishes.

"You didn't come here just to see how we were doing, did you?" he asked quietly. "You had a reason."

Liriel hesitated, then nodded. Might as well be up front about it. She wasn't even asking for help, she just wanted answers.

"I had some questions," she admitted. Madanach inclined his head, looking thoughtful.

"Can't guarantee I'll be able to help, but you're welcome to ask. Take a seat by the fire, we'll eat and talk out here. Kaie, can you tell Odvan to send some food out for us, also send some of the good jenever and some Reach-tonic. Don't worry about sticking around yourself, Liriel's a friend and I don't think there's a lot that she and I can't deal with."

Kaie got up, brushing grass off her legs, and bowed slightly, grin on her face.

"Don't worry, Da, I'll make sure you've got your privacy," she laughed, beckoning for the others to leave. Two Forsworn moved to take up lookout positions a few feet away, near enough to intervene if violence broke out, far enough away to not be able to hear their conversation, while everyone else followed Kaie into the nearby cave. Leaving her alone with the King in Rags, who was now sitting down next to the fire, stirring the logs with a stick and hitting it with a Flames spell to persuade it to flare up a bit.

"Not so warm with the others gone," said Madanach casually. "And it gets dark quickly out here – the sun's gone behind the mountains before you know it. I'm still not used to it you know, the light changing all the time like this."

Liriel settled herself next to him. She'd wondered how he was managing. Apparently not quite as well as he'd initially made out.

"This is why you're sitting out here and not inside, isn't it? You missed the sky."

Madanach nodded, watching the setting sun. "Not even so much missed – after a while I forgot what it was like. It just seemed like a distant dream I once had. Now I can walk in the sunlight again and it's... well, it's a little unbelievable. I keep wondering why it's so bright and why the magelight's lasted for so long, and then I remember that's the sun. Hard to believe, I know. I'm trying to spend as much time as I can out here when it's not raining, try and get used to it again, but it's a little nervewracking without company. All that sky, all that openness – it feels like the gods just peeled the roof off the world and are staring down at me."

Liriel looked up at the sky, the first stars just starting to appear. Now that he'd said that, she was starting to feel a little anxious herself. Altmer cosmology taught that the sky was the location of Aetherius – mortals could no longer see it as it truly was, but it was there and her Aedra ancestors lived there still, watching over their children. She knew they loved her, but she wasn't at all certain they necessarily approved. Feeling a little nervous, she edged a bit closer to Madanach. He glanced up at her, mouth quirking up in a faint half-smile but didn't say anything.

"So, you had questions," he said. "I'm limited in what I can tell you, you understand. I've got a war to fight, I can't give away all our secrets, not even to you. But ask your questions, I'll tell you what I can."

Of course she had, lots of questions, very important questions about how the Forsworn were organised and why she could walk in here and be greeted as not just a friend but be given a private audience with the King in Rags himself without any preamble whatsoever, and yet a friendly approach to Hag Rock had resulted in fireballs. So it was that the first question out of her mouth was:

"What's with the goat's heads everywhere? I mean, they're not exactly pretty, are they now?"

She knew it was a stupid question as soon as she opened her mouth, and the pained look on Madanach's face confirmed it.

"Are you a city girl, by any chance?" he said wearily. Liriel was forced to admit that that was the case – born and raised in Alinor and not really getting out of the city much, certainly not doing anything so crass as manual labour. It wasn't until she'd decided she was bored of the stultifyingly dreary life of an upper-class Altmer lady and wanted to broaden her horizons by going to study magic abroad that she'd got to see how ordinary people actually lived. It still took some getting used to.

"So you don't know anything about goats then," said Madanach. "Or domestic livestock in general, I take it."

"Well no, that's what we've got farmers for," said Liriel, belatedly beginning to realise that perhaps Forsworn society wasn't anything like as stratified as Altmer society.

"Well, Queen of Dragons, allow me to enlighten you," Madanach told her. "Out in the Reach, we Forsworn have not had a servant class to do all the hard jobs for us, and trade's not really an option either. We grow our own food or we hunt it. We don't have a lot of space for livestock – cows are expensive, they're slow and they're noticeable. Nords see cows wandering around the countryside, they're going to get suspicious. Or they're going to get greedy and start taking them for themselves. But there's wild goats all over these mountains, and no one notices those."

"They're your prime herd animals," Liriel guessed. "Clever. But that still doesn't explain why the heads..."

"Herd animal is a bit of a disservice to them," Madanach said. "They're extremely bright. We don't keep huge flocks of them, but it's rare a Forsworn hideout doesn't have a few wandering about the place. They're intelligent, they're loyal, they eat virtually anything, they give us milk, they make fantastic watch animals, and when they die, we can use the pelt and the meat. Except by the time a goat dies, it's usually become quite beloved by the camp. It kept watch in life, so we honour it in death by ensuring its head can keep watching over us. That's why, Liriel."

"That... makes an awful lot of sense," said Liriel thoughtfully. "You've got some here?"

"One," said Madanach. "Lives inside, keeps watch for intruders, gives good milk. We called her Betsi."

Liriel couldn't help but giggle. "Betsi the goat! That's so cute!"

"She's not cute, she's a fearless watchgoat of the Forsworn!" Madanach protested, but his heart clearly wasn't in it because a second later they were both laughing.

"All right," he admitted. "Maybe we're a little fond of her."

Liriel dried her eyes, smiling. Maybe he wasn't all bad after all. She couldn't call him a decent human being because he blatantly wasn't, but he did at least have feelings.

At that point, Odvan, a Forsworn Liriel remembered from Cidhna Mine, arrived with a tray containing two plates of stuffed roast pheasant and assorted vegetables, and two different bottles, along with glasses.

"Dinner, jenever and Reach tonic, as requested," Odvan announced, lowering the tray, slipped a bear pelt off his arm and spreading it out on the ground for them both.

"Is it the good jenever?" Madanach asked hopefully. Odvan, far from being obsequious, just looked at his king rather patronisingly.

"It's the only jenever, boss," Odvan replied. "Unless you wanted some Skooma adding."

Madanach visibly shuddered at the mere idea. "No. Sithis, no. I had enough of the stuff in Cidhna to last me a lifetime. Just leave me a bottle of this stuff, I'll be quite happy."

"Thought you'd say that, boss," Odvan said cheerfully. "You have a good evening now. You too, Liriel."

Liriel wished him likewise, before turning to her dinner. She'd just reached for a fork when Madanach stopped her.

"Not yet. There's formalities."

Oh good. Formalities. Liriel hated formalities. Especially the tedious and lengthy kind that went on while food was in front of her, getting cold and she was hungry, dammit! Fortunately, Madanach had never been much of one for that sort of thing either. He just opened one of the bottles and poured its contents into the glasses, measuring out a finger's worth each, then sealing the bottle and topping the glasses up with what was in this one. Both were colourless liquids that might be water but Liriel suspected otherwise. Madanach indicated for her to take a glass.

"What is it?" she asked, sniffing the contents. Definitely alcoholic.

"Jenever. Made from fermented juniper berries and potatoes then distilled," Madanach told her. "Traditional beverage of the Reachmen since time immemorial so of course the first thing the Nords banned after they overthrew us. Apparently drinking it is bad for our moral fibre and makes us lazy workers."

"You don't have any moral fibre," Liriel pointed out. Madanach looked up, grinning.

"No, and I've been stuck in Cidhna Mine for the last two decades without any, so I think that proves the Nords wrong on this one, doesn't it? Now, if you're my daughter, the correct way of drinking it is to get a small tumbler, fill it up with the stuff and knock it back in one, but that's the degenerate youth of today for you. When you get to my age, you're rather more civilised about these things, and you strike me as someone who is nothing if not civilised."

"How old are you anyway?" Liriel asked. She knew humans rarely lived more than eighty years at most, but Bretons tended to live longer than the other human races and it wasn't uncommon for them to make it to a hundred. As far as guessing any given age and relating it to a life-cycle stage though, well, that wasn't Liriel's strong point.

"Fifty-nine," Madanach said, and Liriel felt the glass shaking in her hands. Fifty-nine? That was no age at all, Altmer only came of age at fifty. But Bretons could see out a century, Altmer could see out a millennium, so if she multiplied it by ten, that made him 590 years old in Altmer years, approximately. Middle-aged, over half his life gone, but by no means dead yet. Still capable, still strong. Still a force to be reckoned with.

Madanach was now indicating the other bottle.

"Now, in here we have the second vital ingredient for a good jenever drink. This is Reach-tonic, and it's made of fresh juniper berry juice, purified river water, all mixed together and brought to boil with the bark of a juniper tree and some blue mountain flowers steeped in it, then the whole thing's filtered. Said to cure all sorts of ailments, which is partly why I drink it, but partly because I just like the taste. To really set it off, we'd need a slice of citron fruit from Cyrodiil, but we don't have any. But we can still make one final finishing touch. I'd do yours for you, but I'm presuming the Archmage of Winterhold can cast her own frost magic." He held up his glass, raised fingers above it and delicately drew a ring of ice around the sides of the glass, just above the surface of the liquid. Liriel could have squealed in delight. She used to do this all the time in Alinor, she'd never found anywhere outside the Summerset Isles where this was ever common practice. Most humans weren't magically skilled enough to ever think of chilling their drinks.

Raising her glass, Liriel carefully cast her own frost magic, first the ice rim, and then a personal touch, a jolt of ice magic into the drink itself, causing ice crystals to form in it. Madanach nodded, impressed, and raised his glass.

"I knew you'd fit in around here," he purred, pleased. "And now we toast. To my good health and yours, my lady Dragon-Queen. Slanta!"

Liriel didn't recognise the word but she knew a toast when she heard one. "Slanta!" she called back, tapping her glass against his and taking a sip.

Sithis, but it hit the spot nicely. Strong, but not too strong, and sweet like juniper.

"I could stand to drink more of these," Liriel gasped. Madanach was leaning back, eyes closed and clearly in a state of bliss.

"Come back any time and I will happily mix you one," said Madanach. He waved vaguely in the direction of the food tray. "You can start eating now. Let me know if you need it warming up any."

The food, as it turned out, was still warm, mainly due to a small fire rune on the tray and that was another thing Liriel hadn't seen since leaving home, runes used for anything outside battle magic. She could have cried. Who would have thought that she'd come all the way to Skyrim and the first real reminders of home would have come from dinner with the king of a tribe of savages by Altmer standards?

She revised her opinions of the Forsworn. Clearly they weren't as uncivilised as everyone thought. And the food turned out to be delicious. Seemed Reachman cooking wasn't dissimilar to that of their High Rock cousins.

"If you keeping making me meals like this, you know I'm going to have to keep coming back," she told him.

"What a tragedy that would be," Madanach murmured, grinning up at her from where he was half-sitting, half-lying to eat his own meal. Liriel sipped her jenever and ate, watching as the sun set and the stars came out, the aurora lighting up the sky as Masser edged above the eastern horizon. It was a beautiful evening in the Reach, and unless a dragon showed up to ruin it, she needn't worry about a thing with the Forsworn on guard. It was nice to just be able to relax for once. She would indeed have to visit again if she could expect this sort of hospitality every time.

Finally she was done and lay back on the grass, pushing the plate away from her, sipping her jenever again. Madanach had also finished and was watching her, curious.

"You said you had questions," he said. "And all you've asked me so far is why there's goat's heads on pikes around our camps. Surely that wasn't it?"

By this point, Liriel was full of pheasant and feeling quite at ease with the world on account of all the jenever, but she did just about recall what spurred her to come north in the first place.

"Why is it," she began, "that I can turn up here and get plied with roast pheasant and fine liqueurs and a private audience with the King in Rags, but I go to any other Forsworn camp and they try to kill me? I even wore the armour and everything! Can't you send them a memo or something, tell them I'm a friend of yours? I mean, I am a friend of yours, right?"

Madanach sipped his jenever, expression unreadable, eyes hooded in the firelight, clearly contemplating how to respond to that.

"Of course you're a friend of mine, you'd never have been allowed to get this close to me if I didn't trust you," he finally said. "But you're asking a very dangerous question there, my Liriel. I could answer it, but it involves giving an awful lot of our secrets away. Information for information, Liriel."

Well, wasn't that just typical. Still, nothing came for free, she supposed. All the same, unless he was after some arcane magical knowledge from the College of Winterhold, she couldn't think what sort of knowledge she'd have that would be of any use to him. She didn't think a Forsworn would want to learn the Thu'um, unless of course he wanted a psychological weapon against the Nords.

"What did you want to know?" she asked. Madanach pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, clearly thinking how to frame his question, before leaning forward, edging closer so his eyes were inches from her own.

"I want to know why the Sacrament stopped working," he growled.

Of all the questions she'd thought he'd ask, she didn't think it would have been that one.

"I'm sorry?" she managed to breathe.

"You heard me," Madanach said, glaring. "Why did the Sacrament stop working? When my daughter died, when my wife decided to spend her time ascending to Matriarchy rather than rescuing me, when I wanted out of that daedra's bargain I made with Thonar and called on the Night Mother to help me, why did she not answer me? I'd get nightshade smuggled in, I had a shiv for that very purpose, I had candles stockpiled, every time a prisoner died, I'd have the body brought in to do the Sacrament. It never worked. Not once. I had silver ore to hand over to pay an assassin with, but no one ever arrived. They say no one escapes Cidhna Mine, but we had ways of getting information and supplies in and out, Kaie was visiting me every week once she was old enough, I had an agent in the guards. No one from your damn Dark Brotherhood, your priesthood of Sithis, no child of your Unholy Matriarch ever turned up. No one until you waltzed in demanding to be let out and blaming me, and not knowing a damn thing about any Sacrament with me. You want to know why I put up with you, why I helped you? Because I'd heard rumours the Altmer Dragonborn was a child of the Night Mother and wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, you were the answer to my prayers. Then Kaie brings your gear and what do we find but Shrouded Robes and Armour which you were getting dressed in straight away. Don't deny you're Dark Brotherhood, Liriel. I just want to know why the Dread Father turned his back on me when I needed him most."

Liriel didn't know what to tell him. Truth was, she wasn't even sure herself why the Night Mother had stopped talking for so long. All she had to go on was what Cicero had told her, dear, sweet, more than half-crazy Cicero. Exactly how much of this she could safely reveal to Madanach was something else, even though the grief-stricken desperation in his eyes made her badly want to.

"I can't – I can't tell you, Madanach. I wish I could!" she sighed. "But I can't just go spilling Dark Brotherhood secrets like this. Not to an outsider! You understand that, right?"

Madanach laughed bitterly, turning away and lying on his back, staring at the stars.

"Old gods preserve us," he said quietly. "You truly know nothing, do you?"

"Because you won't tell me!" Liriel cried, getting a little sick of this. "What is this big secret you keep expecting me to know? I'm just a raw recruit, Madanach. I've been one of them for months, if that. And you're not one at all, although I'm willing to believe you're more than capable of cold-blooded murder."

"I am that," Madanach murmured. "All right, Liriel. I will tell you what you should already know, and if that's to your liking, then I'm hoping you'll answer my question."

Liriel sipped her jenever and agreed. Finally, a few answers. She watched as Madanach lay back, watching the aurora blaze.

"The first thing you have to know to truly understand us, how we think, how we see the world, in fact, probably the only thing, is to know who we worship. Know our gods. Few ever even think to ask."

"You worship the old gods," said Liriel, wondering what this had to do with anything. "The ones that came before the Eight Divines. And Talos, if you count him. Which I don't."

"Should hope not," Madanach growled. "He's the reason we lost our kingdom, him and that Empire of his. I don't even respect Tiber Septim as a man, worshipping him as a god is madness. You know we worship the old gods but do you know who the old gods are?"

No, was the short answer to that one. She'd read a lot, but never seen anything on the Forsworn gods. Even Madmen of the Reach was silent on who they were.

"The Daedra?" she hazarded a guess. Faint smile on Madanach's face, which probably meant the answer was no.

"Before even the Daedra," said Madanach quietly. "Life and death themselves, existence and non-existence. The power from which all things come, and the power by which all things end, shaping the world into being, deciding what comes to pass and what does not. Everything came from them and they're still working today, still dancing and that dance is what makes the world turn. That dance gave us the Aedra, and it gave us the Daedra too, although they're only lesser aspects of the two greater powers. I'll tell you their names, but you already know them, or you should at least. Anu, Lord of All That Is. And the other, the Lord of All That Is Not? You serve him, Liriel."

Liriel lifted her head, her yellow eyes staring into Madanach's grey ones. She'd heard him swear by Sithis earlier, but had assumed he'd just been reading up on the Brotherhood and was trying to make her feel at home. It had never even occurred to her his interest in the Brotherhood was more than professional, that his rage and fury at Sithis never answering his call wasn't just despair at not getting Thonar killed but an actual religious crisis.

"The Forsworn worship Sithis?" she whispered, wondering how, why she never knew this, why no one, not even Cicero who should know these things, had ever told her this before. Madanach just inclined his head.

"Both of them, Anu and Sithis together. You cannot have one without the other. Everything about us comes from that. We do not fear death because we would not be alive without it, and one day we too will die so that the world can keep turning. We don't need a dream of Sovngarde to make us brave enough to fight. We fight and risk our lives because we know the Dread Father will claim us when he's ready and we can't change that. No one knows the mind of the Dread Father. No one but you."

He'd rolled over, staring into her eyes again as if she was the answer to the mysteries of life, the universe and everything.

"Me?" she whispered nervously. Madanach grinned, laughed and the moment was lost.

"Not you personally, girl, I'm prepared to believe you're not exactly a high-ranked member of the Brotherhood. But while the Hags invoked Sithis, sacrificed themselves to him for their power, they could never clearly know his mind, never be one with him. But they told of one who one day would ascend beyond even what they'd achieved, a Matriarch who would make the ultimate sacrifice of not just her soul but her very life and know the will of Sithis first hand."

Liriel could barely breathe. Everything Astrid and Cicero had told her came rushing back, that there'd been an assassin once who'd become the lover of Sithis, mother of his five children and killed them to win his favour, becoming the Night Mother.

"The Night Mother," she whispered. "She – she killed her children for him and he made her his wife."

"I know," Madanach whispered back. "Life and death in an eternal cycle – she brought them into being then she took them out of existence. The ultimate move in the dance, and it gave her power beyond anyone's wildest dreams. I'm a father, Liriel, and I've seen my children die, the Nords killed my daughter Eithne right in front of me. I could never... I could never have killed them myself."

"Nor me," Liriel said softly, Sissel and Lucia's faces before her eyes and even though she'd not birthed them, she could never bring herself to hurt them. Even taking splinters out of fingers and bathing scraped knees was an ordeal. To do what the Night Mother had? She could never do it. "So are you telling me that to the Forsworn, the Night Mother's like a goddess?"

"A Matriarch," Madanach confirmed. "The Matriarch of Matriarchs, one who even the Hags must bend the knee to. When she became the Night Mother, back in the Second Era, the Hags knew and they trembled. All things must die and they foresaw the Night Mother and her children could bring them down. Then that book, A Kiss, Sweet Mother, began circulating and people tried the ritual. And the Brotherhood answered. Some of them even came to us for training, hailing us in Sithis' name, and we welcomed them in. It's a sacred calling to be one of them, Liriel. They were strong and they were deadly and they were even more so once they'd trained with us. To serve Sithis, enacting his will in the world, removing those who have outlived their usefulness... damn, Liriel, if the Forsworn hadn't needed me here, I would have joined them. As it is I made the pilgrimage to Bravil once as a young man. I wanted to pray to Sithis to give me the strength to bring down the Nords. There was a time when I even thought he'd answered. When I took Markarth and they first called me Reach-King."

The fire had burned low, the guards on duty had changed shifts, the sun was long gone and Secunda was now rising while Masser loomed overhead, but Liriel didn't even care. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down.

"Then what?" she whispered. "What happened?"

Madanach raised his eyes to hers, almost pleading with her. "I was hoping you could tell me. For centuries, decades, the Forsworn and Brotherhood worked together, their Skyrim Sanctuaries sending assistance while we trained their assassins. We were the Hands of Sithis and we struck where we wanted. But after the Oblivion Crisis, it started to fall apart. Something happened in the Brotherhood in Cyrodiil, there was some internal crisis, a betrayal, I don't know what. One of the Skyrim Sanctuaries was closed and its occupants summoned to Cyrodiil to bolster failing numbers there after a Sanctuary was wiped out. The other Sanctuary couldn't send people any more and the agreement started to fade. No big argument, no falling out, but a fading. By the time I was Reach-King, the alliance was a distant memory, but we still remembered. The Hags still knew it and they said you would return, that the Dread Father had not abandoned us. We kept hoping it was true. But then it all went wrong, I ended up dethroned and on the run, not even able to see my wife and daughters more than a few times a year in case the Nords followed me to them. Then my eldest, Eithne, turned fourteen and came to join me here – and weeks later, the Nords found us. She died defending me. Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted her to the floor and stabbed her through the heart. He'd have killed me too and after seeing my baby girl murdered, I wouldn't even have cared, but Thonar was there and he decided I could be useful. You know the rest."

"Madanach," Liriel whispered. "Sithis help me, I'm so sorry." She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him and holding him. She heard him exhale sharply, then felt his hands on her skin, sliding around her back as he pulled her closer, clinging on to her like a drowning man clings to the one that rescues him. Liriel just held him, silently screaming to Sithis why, why the Brotherhood had fallen apart, why it was just one Sanctuary and that never likely to care about a group of rebels with no coin to pay them. Astrid didn't care about the Night Mother and would never bother with the Forsworn. Of all of them, Cicero was the only one who might actually understand – but he'd never leave the Night Mother. It was just her, the Listener of the Night Mother, with a Sanctuary that would never listen to her in turn.

"Don't give me your apologies," he growled, voice muffled where he was leaning against her shoulder. "Just tell me why."

She owed him that, at least. From the sounds of it, he was a more devoted son of Sithis than anyone in Falkreath.

"I don't know why," Liriel said quietly. "But I can tell you what happened, as far as I know it." So she told him what Cicero and Astrid had told her, that there'd been trouble in Cyrodiil after the war and the other Sanctuaries had been closed or fallen apart, and then the Night Mother's Crypt had been attacked. Madanach listened, growing pale to hear how the Night Mother's body had been rescued and brought back to Cheydinhal, the last Cyrodiil Sanctuary standing, but that the Listener, the only one who could hear the Night Mother's words and pass on the contracts, was dead and the Night Mother never chose a new one.

"Wait a second," Madanach interrupted. "Are you saying that the Night Mother's physical remains are her conduit to you all, and she only talks to one of you? This Listener?"

Liriel nodded. "Yes. That's how the Sacrament works, the Night Mother hears it and tells the Listener and they send someone out to meet the client. But there wasn't a Listener any more and the Night Mother never talked to anyone. So the Sacrament never worked and Cheydinhal Sanctuary fell apart. The Sanctuary in Falkreath is the last one, and it still works but it doesn't rely on the Night Mother. Astrid, that's our leader, has got contacts and regular customers all over the place and she takes work off them. But if you performed the Sacrament in secret in Cidhna Mine, Astrid would never have known to come find you."

Slowly, she felt Madanach let her go, sitting upright and grimacing as he did so, staring into the dying fire.

"The Night Mother no longer speaks," he whispered. "The Crone of Crones, Matriarch of Matriarchs, she is silent. Gone into the Void. And all that is left is one Sanctuary. Anu preserve us, and I thought we had it bad."

Liriel wondered if she ought to tell him. She didn't know if it would do any good. It wasn't like she had any real power. Listener of the Night Mother, but she had one Sanctuary at her disposal and they didn't recognise her as leader.

"No one else must ever know this, Liriel," Madanach was saying, sounding utterly despairing. "They can never know that the Black Hand of Sithis will never open for us again. You have no idea, Liriel, no idea what the Ascension of the Night Mother meant for us. It was the promise that we could commune with Sithis himself, channel his power, influence him and use his gifts to bring down all in our way. That's why we trained Brotherhood assassins, that's why we sent many of our own to join their ranks. They were Sithis Incarnate, true-born killers. To know that's not true any more, that Sithis has abandoned them... Liriel, if this got out, it would be the end of us. If Sithis abandoned the Brotherhood, what's to stop him doing the same to us? Maybe he already has. All things must die. Maybe we're not meant to win."

Madanach was staring into the fire, shoulders hunched, and for the first time since she'd known him, Liriel could sense something dying inside, the spark that had lit a rebellion and taken the Reach the first time, the spark that had kept him alive in Cidhna Mine all this time, finally going out. It was breaking Liriel's heart. She'd take the insults and the taunting and the calling her Queen of Dragons like it meant something, if it just meant he kept his spark. If he lost that... she knew without doubt he'd likely not see his sixtieth birthday.

"He hasn't abandoned us," Liriel heard herself saying. "It's not hopeless. Madanach, the Night Mother's Keeper survived somehow – he was the one tasked with taking care of the remains. He kept them safe, kept them pristine and he brought them to Skyrim this year. He got to the Sanctuary just after I joined, we've got the Night Mother there now. The conduit's still open, Madanach. She spoke to me. She said I was her Listener now. Except... except Astrid won't hear of it and insists I should obey her instead, and the rest of the Sanctuary, everyone except the Keeper, all back her. So I don't think I'm going to be much good to you or anyone, but-" She didn't have the chance to finish the sentence. Madanach had turned to face her as she'd talked, eyes getting wider by the second.

"You. Are Listener."

Liriel nodded, biting her lip and wondering if she should have kept quiet.

"The Voice of the Night Mother. The Chosen of Sithis. You. Liriel, the great and powerful Queen of Dragons."

She should definitely have kept quiet. She nodded, tensing up and preparing for the inevitable mockery. She was right in one respect. He did laugh. He threw back his head, howling with joyous laughter, the spark more than back. It had turned into an unholy conflagration, and Liriel began to fear it had sent him mad. It seemed the guards on duty were thinking something similar.

"Er, boss?" and that was Duach who had given her Skooma after she'd pretended to be an addict. "Are you alright over there?"

"Yes!" Madanach laughed. "Yes, I'm fine, I'm more than fine! Sithis answered our prayers, boys!"

A pause. "That's lovely, boss, but we didn't pray for you to go mad."

Madanach shot a glare in his direction. "Were I not in such a good mood, you'd be on the receiving end of a lightning bolt up your backside, Duach."

Duach laughed good-naturedly and called to his fellow guard. "Yeah, he's alright, Mhairi. Back to normal." Mhairi laughed in turn and the two of them resumed looking out over the valley. Madanach rolled his eyes and winced as he pulled himself to his feet, extending a hand to Liriel. She took it, allowing herself to be hauled upright.

"Madanach, don't expect miracles, the Sanctuary all follow Astrid, not me!" she said weakly. "It's just me and Cicero the Keeper who still follow the Night Mother, and Cicero's insane."

Madanach didn't even seem to care. "So, you're the rightful leader of a once great force of murdering bastards, but you can't do your job properly because of some controlling bitch who won't release her grip on power, is that right?"

That pretty much summed it up, yes. Madanach nodded, looking sympathetic.

"Yes, believe it or not, I know exactly how that feels. Come on, let's get inside. We've got a lot to talk about. You may not realise it, but this changes everything."

Liriel really couldn't see how anything had changed at all, but Madanach seemed fairly determined. She might as well see where this was going.

"What do we need to talk about?" she asked, and then it occurred to her he'd never answered her question.

"You told me what I wanted to know," said Madanach, grinning back at her as he led her into Druadach Redoubt. "Time I told you what you were after and then how to go about rectifying matters. Listen well, Listener. Time you learnt how the Forsworn actually function."

Liriel followed inside eagerly. It looked like she was finally going to get some answers, and if she was really lucky, the pommel stone of Mehrunes' Razor might just fall into her hands. Not to mention that she might just have acquired a more powerful supporter against Astrid than a half-mad jester...


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 

NagisaHighElf

New Member
Chapter Three

Druadach Redoubt turned out to be a huge cavern built into the mountain, holes in the roof letting the light in, moonlight pouring in and pooling on to the ground. The ground itself rose up towards the back of the cavern, with three levels, each one with Forsworn tents pitched and stockades at the base of each tier, even trees growing there, and a small pool of water at the foot of the cave. There was even a small crop farm and grain mill, and a goat running up to her, butting against her and bleating.

"She likes you," Madanach laughed as Liriel scritched it behind the ears.

"She's lovely!" Liriel smiled. "I never had you lot down as the pet owner types."

"We're not, she's a working goat and valuable member of the camp," said Madanach, rubbing the goat's back briefly before moving on. "Blame my daughter for the ridiculously sentimental name."

Liriel rubbed the animal's back, idly wondering which daughter. Kaie? Or Eithne while she'd lived here? She didn't think the same goat would have survived two decades, but she was beginning to realise the King in Rags had a very long memory.

She followed him up towards the back of the cave, nodding in acknowledgement to the Forsworn she knew, those that were still up, and exchanging nervous glances with the ones she didn't. Still, no one reached for a weapon – it seemed Madanach's approval was sufficient to get her a free pass.

Madanach's tent was of course on the top tier, also home to a forge, a huge cage and the campfire and kitchen. Two tents, one big one with what looked like an elk's skull and ribcage mounted on top, presumably Madanach's, and a smaller one, but one still bigger than the others she'd seen around the place. Kaie was sitting inside it, presumably preparing for bed. She glanced knowingly up at Liriel and grinned.

"Sleeping up here tonight, are we? Thought you might. Just keep the noise down, OK? Some of us are trying to sleep over here."

"I'll... try," said Liriel, feeling a little uncertain as to just what Kaie meant by that, but if she wanted to sleep, Liriel could certainly make sure she wasn't disturbed.

Madanach growled in his daughter's direction. "Don't you have any work to be getting on with?"

"It's midnight, nearly," Kaie shot back. "You know, the time normal people are meant to go to bed?"

"I don't care, something important's come up," said Madanach, casting a magelight over a nearby table with a map on it and indicating for Liriel to take the sole chair. "And no it can't wait until morning," he added, retrieving another from his tent and bringing it up to the table.

Kaie just rolled her eyes and reached for the flaps on her tent. "And he complains about his sleep cycles," she muttered, tersely closing the entrance and retreating to bed.

"I hadn't realised it was that late," said Liriel guiltily. "Are you sure this can't wait until morning? I don't want to keep you up."

"Sithis, don't you start, I have enough to put up with what with Kaie nagging me. I swear she's turning into her mother more and more every day." Madanach indicated the map in front of her, a map of what was clearly the Reach, and several locations dotted around it.

"Rather you didn't share this with anyone else," said Madanach gruffly. "This is all our camps in the Reach. They operate mostly independently under their camp commander's control, and aside from this one and a few of the smaller ones nearby, they're all under the command of a Matriarch or a Briar Heart controlled by one."

Hagravens and Briar Hearts. Liriel knew what Hagravens were – once a female mage reached a certain level of power, a bargain could be struck, a sacrifice made, and although a significant portion of your soul and your humanity would be gone, you'd be immensely powerful magically. She'd not read up on the details of how this worked and didn't plan to. The idea held very little appeal. As for Briar Hearts, she'd fought a few. Men with their hearts removed and a mysterious Briar Heart placed there instead, the gaping chest wound still visible. Reanimated corpses by any other name? Or something else? Liriel didn't know.

"Is that... important?" she asked. Well of course it was or he wouldn't be telling her, but what she didn't know was why.

"Ever read the Legend of Red Eagle?" said Madanach, not looking at her. "It tells of our greatest ever leader, a fierce warrior who fought off the Empire, Faolan the Red Eagle, first Lord of the Reach, the first to unite us. Before that, we were always fighting amongst ourselves, easy prey. He was a great leader, a mighty warrior but he made one mistake. He made a deal with the Hagravens, took great power, but at a terrible cost. He let them take his heart and replace it with one of Briar, and from that day until the day he died, he was never his own man again. He was the first, but many have made that same deal since, or had their bodies resurrected with Briar Hearts. They are fierce warriors, very powerful mages, but they answer to the Matriarch that made them. We respect the Hags' power, of course we do. But to surrender entirely to one? No. I will never be making that particular bargain, and so you have Druadach Redoubt as one of the few places not led by either a Matriarch or her servant. That in a nutshell is my problem."

Liriel recalled his words of earlier and realised that perhaps the King in Rags wasn't anything like as powerful as his title suggested.

"The Hags won't listen to you?" Liriel asked, beginning to realise why he could only guarantee her safety at his own camp.

"The Hags serve the old gods, they're not going to pay attention to a mere mortal," said Madanach, looking at her shrewdly, beginning to smile. "But the Shrouded Lady, the Hag of Hags, they'd have to pay attention to her. More precisely, to her followers."

"You want me to negotiate with the Hagravens. But Madanach, they'd kill me on sight!" Liriel cried.

"Not negotiate," said Madanach, face shadowed in the magelight. "I want my people back, Liriel, and for that, someone is going to have to die."

A contract then. Liriel went very still, the sound of her heart thudding in her chest almost impossibly loud in the silence.

"All of them?" she whispered. Madanach just laughed.

"No, just one or two will be enough. Just enough to set an example to the others, I imagine the rest will fall into line after that. Here, let me talk you through the various camps and factions, it'll help you understand. There's four factions, other than me. There's the North faction, headed by Matriarch Keirine, based up at Deepwood Redoubt. The fort itself is run by Keirine's Briar Heart, but Keirine has a coven at Hag's End, deep within the fortress, where she does magical research and trains the next generation of mages and Matriarchs. She also oversaw the smaller camps at Bruca's Leap and Dragon Bridge Overlook, and this place until I got here, but never used Briar Hearts to run them."

"Keirine," Liriel whispered, remembering the name. "She's the one who told you to break out now or you never would, that the stars were right."

"She did," Madanach replied, nodding in approval. "She must have known the Night Mother had called a new Listener, and foreseen that Listener ending up in Cidhna Mine. She's a smart one, Keirine."

"She's not who you want me to kill, is she?" Liriel asked nervously. Madanach looked up at that, appalled at the very idea.

"No! Anu, no, don't you dare, she's on my side, about the only Hag I trust. She was my twin sister once. Anything you ever want from Hag's End, you come talk to me first, I'll get you what you need. That place is of great strategic importance to all of us. And like I said, she used to control this place, Bruca's Leap and Dragon Bridge Overlook, but once I broke out, she ceded them to me. She's a Hag of the old school, believes the war and the politics are the business of the Reach-King or Queen, not the Hags. She leads Deepwood because someone has to, but she always preferred her research to politics."

So not Keirine then. Noted. Liriel looked at the map, beginning to understand some of the lines and symbols now. A wavy line separated the northern camps from the others, running from Dragon Bridge Overlook down the Karth then striking west and running just south of Markarth. By Druadach Redoubt was a crudely drawn crown. Home of the Reach-King that was and will be again.

"All this is territory nominally loyal to you," she breathed, beginning to get it. Madanach nodded.

"Correct. There's Kolskeggr Mine here, biggest gold mine in the Reach. Was the Silver-Bloods', now it's mine. We've got to fund all this somehow, and now skimming silver ore from Cidhna Mine and smuggling it out is no longer an option, we needed an alternative. So Nepos and I decided to overrun Kolskeggr before the breakout happened."

"Nepos the Nose," Liriel said, remembering that note she'd found on Weylin. She'd been meaning to call on him after her ill-fated visit to Thonar Silver-Blood, but after finding out from Thonar that Madanach was behind all the murders, she'd run straight back to the Shrine of Talos to tell Eltrys – and run straight into the guards standing over his body. "He's your man in Markarth."

"Yes, he and I go way back," said Madanach fondly. "We've got agents all over the city and luckily for us, Briar Hearts and Matriarchs tend to attract the wrong sort of attention there. So Nepos runs the show in Markarth, and effectively that city is mine. With a bit of time to put the arrangements in place, I could depose the Jarl and take it over whenever I liked."

"So why haven't you?" Liriel countered.

"Because I'd never get to keep it," Madanach sighed. "Learnt that the first time around. We could have held that city against all comers, but the Empire was determined, the Jarl was determined, and the Silver-Bloods betrayed us as soon as the Great War ended. We still might have held – if the Hags of the south hadn't decided it was a lost cause and ordered their camps to stay put."

"You mean half the Forsworn didn't even fight?" Liriel gasped, horrified. Madanach inclined his head in confirmation.

"Correct. It's almost as if the Hags don't want us to have a kingdom of our own, isn't it? But I'm sure that can't be right, and I'm very sure that actually having to be answerable to the law as citizens instead of doing whatever they feel like in their own little fiefdoms is a price they'd be happy to pay. Of course."

"Of course," Liriel echoed, beginning to see why the comparison with Astrid had been such an apt one. "Never mind the Nords, you've got to deal with your own people first."

"You see what I mean about it taking years to organise the Forsworn into a united faction again," Madanach sighed. "Took long enough the first time. I don't have those years, Liriel, I've got a decade left in me and maybe a few years more, but no longer than that." He looked up at her, beginning to smile again, a crafty, devious smile that unnerved Liriel as much as it delighted her. "At least, I didn't until you turned up, Queen of Dragons."

Liriel wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

"I hope to Sithis you're going to pay me for all this," said Liriel tersely. "And while I'm willing to off Hagravens for you, there's an awful lot of Forsworn around them willing to die to protect them. That's my problem, Madanach! I'd like to help, but do you really want me cutting a bloody hole into your own people just to eliminate your enemies?"

"Why not, I've been doing it for years," Madanach growled. Then he sighed and seemed to relent. "All the same, the violence is getting to me and I can't afford to throw away any more of my people. I need them to trust me or it'll be damn impossible to hold on to anything worthwhile. Liriel, I'd like to be able to write and tell everyone you're one of us, to let you through unhindered, I really would, but if I need you to kill certain Hagravens who are being uncooperative, I can't be associated with that. A Forsworn man raising a hand to a Hag, even indirectly? It would ruin me. But Hagravens killing other Hagravens – now that's generally understood to be Hag business and we all stay out of it. We just wait until it's all over and rally round the winner."

"Still not helping!" Liriel sighed, rubbing her forehead and craving sleep. "I'm not a Hagraven."

"No. Not you yourself. But your leader is, in a way." Madanach was staring at her, willing her to understand, and she was trying, she really was, but she had normal sleep cycles still and her brain was tired! Astrid, did he mean? No, not Astrid. The Night Mother. The Hag of Hags, Matriarch of Matriarchs, feared by all the Hagravens and revered by the Forsworn too as the conduit to Sithis, the promise the Dread Father had not abandoned them and that his aid could be sought.

"You're saying if I walk up there and announce myself as Listener, the Forsworn will just let me in," she said. "They'll let me walk right up to their Matriarch and kill her?"

"Essentially, yes," said Madanach, looking positively delighted at the idea.

"But I walked past Broken Tower Redoubt in my Shrouded Armour and they attacked me on sight!" said Liriel, remembering having to deal with all sorts of resistance when she and Jenassa had gone to rescue Fjotra the Sybil from there.

"Yes, because you didn't give the right call-signs," said Madanach. "Anyone can kill a Dark Brother and steal their armour, Liriel. There's a ritual to it, a call and response so they know you're genuinely the Night Mother's and not an impostor. Surprised your Sanctuary never taught you, but if what you've told me is true, it's quite possible the knowledge was lost years ago."

"So tell me," Liriel sighed, weary and tired of all the secrets. "You tell me how to announce myself as the true Listener, if you know all this."

"I will," Madanach promised, leaning closer, grey eyes staring intently in to hers. "I will teach you everything your brothers and sisters have forgotten." He was smiling, a hungry, predatory smile as he reached out a hand to her face, fingers gently skimming her cheek as they ran through her hair, and Liriel seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. All she knew was that she was shaking all over, afraid, very afraid but not wanting it to stop either.

"Madanach," she whispered, suddenly very very nervous.

"Dragon-Queen?" he murmured, sly grin not letting up for a second.

"Can we do this in the morning?" she asked, backing away from him. "I – I think I need to sleep first. I can't take any more in right now. I'm sorry."

Madanach's smile vanished as he narrowed his eyes, looking carefully at her. Then he nodded and let her go, backing off. Liriel sighed with relief, finally able to breathe properly again. She didn't consider herself a weakling in any sense but around Madanach, she always felt off-balance somehow. Constantly wrong-footed. She was a pure-bred Altmer of impeccable family while he was some scruffy barbarian human barely half her age, and yet around him she always felt like the powerless one. She should turn and run, get out of here, go back to running side contracts for Nazir and dealing with the war and trying to sort out the dragons, and never come near this place again. She was already feeling in way over her head, and what if he was playing her somehow? Using her for some nefarious purpose of his own? It was all too likely with this man.

"I've kept you up long enough, haven't I?" he said, leaning back and looking almost kind. "Go on, take my tent."

"Where will you sleep?" Liriel asked, getting up. "You can't stay up all night."

"No, but someone else will be on guard duty all night. I'll take their bed," said Madanach with a shrug. "Anything to keep Kaie from nagging me."

Now this was safer. Step back from that intensity of before and retreat into banal chit-chat about his family.

"She just wants you to be healthy and happy," Liriel told him. "She's worried about you."

Madanach just grunted, scowling. He waved towards the big tent with the elk mounted on it. "Go on, get to bed. And before you ask why the elk skeleton, it's a tribute to worthy prey. Killed it myself many many years ago. Didn't even use magic. Part of my initiation into adulthood – could have just made an animal sacrifice like everyone else, but why take the easy route, hmm?"

Liriel could quite believe that Madanach had been the sort of young man to despise something on principle precisely because everyone else was doing it. She crawled into the tent and was surprised to just see a pile of straw there with fur pelts flung over it. She'd expected a proper bed at least.

"That's what you sleep on?" she asked, surprised. She couldn't see Madanach from inside the tent but could almost sense him rolling his eyes.

"I'm very sorry if the Queen of Dragons doesn't find my accommodations entirely to her liking and would prefer a solid gold bed lined with hawk feathers and Khajiit fur instead, but believe it or not, I do have a war to fight and rather more pressing concerns?" he growled.

"It's not that!" Liriel cried. "It's just you had a nicer bed than this in Cidhna Mine..."

Silence. For a second, Liriel wondered if she should have mentioned Cidhna Mine at all. Maybe it had brought back memories he'd rather forget. Then he finally spoke.

"It's just somewhere to rest my head, Liriel, it's not like I'm entertaining a different woman every night."

Liriel stretched out on the straw pile, feeling sorry for him. All this responsibility couldn't be easy for him, and though he seemed a lot happier than he had in prison, he still seemed lonely. His wife dead from the sounds of it, celibate all that time in prison (she presumed), and not exactly in any position to have a new lover here. There were some young women in the camp, but all around Kaie's age or younger and Liriel guessed even Madanach wasn't going to start ordering women that young to his bed. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she should go and comfort him, but then she remembered him touching her face and leaning closer with that hungry smile, and that brought up all sorts of fears she'd rather not deal with.

"Maybe if you got a decent bed, that might change," she called out, deliberately keeping her tone light and easy. That did get a laugh from him.

"I think the effort might kill me," Madanach laughed. "I don't need a harem, Liriel, just one would do."

"Bet she'd still appreciate a decent bed," Liriel called, snuggling in amongst the furs. Truth be told it was already quite comfy. Not luxurious, but comfy. It would however only really sleep one. If Madanach ever did find a lover, he'd not be able to sleep next to her in this. It occurred to Liriel maybe he'd never expected or intended to find one ever again, and for some reason that saddened her. Everyone should have a shot at happiness, and Madanach didn't have the hundreds of years that she did to find it.

Lady Mara, if he can't have his kingdom, at least find him someone to love. If he has to live in exile, at least find him someone to share it with.

No response but there never was. She'd leave it in Mara's hands. She didn't know if the Forsworn believed in Mara, but even they fell in love.

"I will think about it," Madanach called back. "Now Dragon-Queen, if you are quite done complaining and prying into my personal life, are you going to go to sleep?"

Liriel closed her eyes, pulling furs over her head. "Goodnight, Madanach," she said, feeling sleep overcome her. She'd dozed off in seconds, never hearing the reply.

"Goodnight, Queen of Dragons," Madanach murmured, closing his eyes, bittersweet smile on his face. He was tired, actually, a lot more tired than he'd let on and it had been adrenaline keeping him going, the sheer excitement of Sithis' conduit still being open and Night's Children still being able to honour the Auld Alliance. Granted, it was just one assassin. But when that assassin was the Voice of the Night Mother, and the Voice of Dragons, and a very talented mage, and a beautiful woman on top of all that? Sithis had answered his prayers all right, and tomorrow would see the sun rise on a new era for the Forsworn.

"Hail Sithis," he whispered, getting up and going in search of a bed. Soon, soon, the Forsworn would be his again. And if in the process he found himself also in possession of a beautiful Altmer in his bed and not expecting him to sleep anywhere but by her side, that would be a very happy bonus.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Liriel left the Redoubt the next day, declining Madanach's offer of another night there. It was clear to all he'd not slept well the night before, and Liriel had had to have a quiet word with Kaie as to if there was any reason they couldn't find a proper bed for him. Kaie had agreed he needed one, it was just getting the stubborn old fool to admit it. Well, at least he'd said he'd think about it. Liriel was coming to realise that was the nearest she was going to get to an admission she might be right.

Then had come the instruction on how to enter a Forsworn camp without the entire population descending on her, which had proven as simple as clenching one's fists and holding them to her shoulders. Something which when she realised most Forsworn associated an open palm with the casting of Destruction magic made perfect sense. There was also a ritual invocation but Madanach had also said that the words could be tweaked if necessary, so not critical to memorise it all.

Finally, once he was convinced she had it down, he let her go, walking her to the outside and seeing her off. To her surprise, he actually hugged her, before dropping arms to his sides and standing back, waiting while she mounted her horse.

"Fight well," he called to her.

"If you taught me well, I'm hoping I won't have to," she shouted back. He'd smiled at that.

"Kill well, then. Come back here when you're done, I'll have some coin for your trouble."

He didn't need to pay her, she'd have helped him anyway. But the coin was nice and maybe it was for the best they kept this somewhat professional. Besides, she wasn't sure yet if this was going to work. True, Madanach had given her details of a small camp called Blind Cliff Cave, independent from any of the main Forsworn factions and run by two feuding Hagraven sisters called Melka and Petra, supposedly easy to escape from if it all went south. A little test run as it were. All the same, before she walked into a Forsworn camp and announced her arrival, Liriel wanted some outside confirmation that all was as Madanach had told her. Not that she didn't trust him, but she'd be a fool not to look into things first. So she needed assistance. Specifically, she needed a young Reach native with clear skills in both magic and the blade, one not linked to Madanach but who might well have got her training with the Forsworn. She knew the perfect person.

The Shrine of Namira wasn't any less dank and gloomy, but at least they'd cleared up the blood since her last visit. Eola was there, sitting at the head of the table, looking like a queen on her throne despite being a full five inches shorter than Liriel. Mercifully she wasn't eating, just reading and drinking some sort of red liquid from a wineglass. Liriel hoped it was only wine, although with Eola one could never tell.

Despite Liriel's boots not making a sound on the stone floor, Eola looked up, smiling as she saw Liriel there.

"Why hello there, Keeper of the Ring. It's been a while, how've you been?" She took one look at the Shrouded Armour Liriel was wearing and raised an eyebrow. "You're in the Dark Brotherhood now? My my, you are going up in the world! How... delicious."

Liriel shivered a little as she took a seat next to Namira's priestess. Cannibalism was in no way a respectable pastime for a well-bred Altmer lady, but there was a seductive, predatory charm to Eola and next thing Liriel knew, she'd been luring a priest of Arkay back here, killing him and eating his still-warm corpse. She'd carved off a slice and cooked it with a Flames spell first of course, she wasn't a savage or anything. All the same, after that little escapade, joining the Dark Brotherhood hadn't really presented many ethical challenges.

"I wasn't when we last met," said Liriel, focusing on a bloodstain on the table. "Don't get too excited about it, I'm not exactly high-ranked." But you should be, Listener, a little voice whispered in the back of her head. You should be giving orders to them all.

"Even so, that you took the Shrouds at all..." Eola breathed. "All the blood, all the death! Why, I tried to join myself a few years ago, you know. Did the Sacrament and everything, waited for someone to show... and waited... and waited. No one ever turned up. Of course, perhaps the fact I nibbled on the man's liver beforehand had something to do with it. What do you think, Liriel?"

"Honestly, I think they missed out," said Liriel, having to admit that Eola was as fierce and predatory as they came. "You'd have made an excellent assassin."

Eola grinned, looking very pleased with herself. She put her book, a copy of the Book of Daedra, to one side and turned to Liriel.

"So, Champion of Namira. What brings you here? Did you want another taste? You are looking a little pale, I can tell it's been a while since you last had a decent meal."

"I'm fine," said Liriel, hastily shutting that line of conversation right down. "It was actually information I wanted."

"Information, eh?" Eola purred. "Well, I have to confess, I'm not one to keep up with all the gossip. But if you tell me what you want to know, I'll see if I can help."

Liriel nodded and clenched her fists, raising them to her shoulders in the Forsworn gesture of non-hostility.

"What does this gesture mean to you?" she asked. Eola's eyes widened and Liriel knew right then she'd guessed correctly about Eola's background.

"I'd say it means you've been running with the Forsworn," said Eola, fascinated, her curiosity caught. "Now that's interesting, that they taught an outsider that. Oh, but I don't suppose you're really an outsider, are you? Not now you joined up with the other Sithis worshipping murdering fanatics."

"I knew it," Liriel breathed. "You're a Forsworn! Or, well, you used to be."

"Once," Eola agreed. "A long time ago. I grew up near here on Karthspire Camp. That'd be the one you and your friends tore through the other week. Oh don't worry," she said, laughing at Liriel's guilty expression. "I picked through the bodies afterwards – only person I might have cried over wasn't there. The Forsworn mortality rate is quite high, I think most of the people I knew died some time ago. I just have one question. Was it you who killed their Matriarch?"

Liriel sighed and confessed. If Eola wanted revenge, she'd likely have taken it by now.

"Yes. It was me. Fireball duel then I finished her off with a lightning bolt."

Of all the reactions she'd thought she might get, she'd not expected Eola to clap her hands, squeal in delight, get up and run round the table to give Liriel a hug.

"Oh you marvellous, brutal, murdering fiend, you!" Eola laughed. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for killing the controlling bitch. She's the reason I left. Hit my sixteenth birthday, decided I'd had enough of the lectures on how I was insufficiently committed to the cause, and ran away. Got myself initiated into adulthood on my own terms and never looked back."

Eola perched herself on the bench next to Liriel, looking very pleased with herself. Liriel began to wonder if she'd been the best choice for assistance, but at least Eola wasn't likely to tell anyone else. Eola, by her own admission and for blatantly obvious reasons, preferred to keep a low profile and pass through life unremembered later.

"And what was your commitment to the cause like, Eola?" Liriel asked. "Do you actually want an independent Reach or do you just not care any more?"

Sadness crept into Eola's eyes, sadness and a fair hint of bitterness, and that was most unlike her. Eola very rarely had regrets about anything.

"My oldest sister died when I was five – the Nords killed her," said Eola quietly. "They got my Da at the same time, my strong, proud, brave warrior of a father. I don't remember a lot about him, but I know he loved me dearly. Then he was gone. A few years after that, my next oldest sister died – I'd wandered off and got lost, she'd come out to find me and that's when the mercenaries attacked. She told me to run and fought them off, and she was good, but she was outnumbered and only fifteen. They hacked her to death and I couldn't do a damn thing. I was there for hours, clutching her body, cold, alone, afraid, hungry, crying my eyes out. In the end, I was so hungry I took a bite."

So Eola's seduction speech had been at least partly autobiographical. Liriel suspected as much.

"They found me eventually, and I told them it had been a fox taking bites out of her, but I'm not sure Ma believed me. She was never the same again. When I approached sixteen, Ma was very clear that I had a choice – either join the fight like my third sister, or get married to continue the line. Needless to say, I said no to both and left. Liriel, don't get me wrong," Eola sighed. "It's not that I don't agree and it's not even that I don't care. I'd love an independent Reach again. But it's never going to happen in my lifetime and I'm not throwing my life away in a pointless struggle that's never really stopped since Tiber Septim's day."

"It's not pointless," said Liriel, fighting the anger that was rising at Eola's dismissive words. "It's only pointless if we give up. I refuse to believe the Forsworn cause is doomed."

"We?" said Eola, staring right into her eyes. "It's 'we', is it now? Sweet Namira, Liriel, what in Oblivion have you got yourself mixed up in now? I know you're Brotherhood but the Auld Alliance hasn't functioned in over a hundred years. And even when it did, please don't think it was more than a mutually beneficial trade and training agreement. The Dark Brotherhood were never ideologically committed to freedom for the Reach, any more than the Forsworn were prepared to kill just anyone unless it fitted with their own plans. Look, if you've been seconded out to the Forsworn, or even if they've just hired you for a contract, don't make it more than it is. Just do the job, get paid, get out, that's my advice."

"You cynical bitch," Liriel said softly, thinking of Madanach's delight as she'd told him she was Listener, and the barely concealed glee in his eyes ever since. Something about seeing him so happy had made her happy too, and for Eola to just dismiss everything Madanach believed in, just like that, felt like a slap in the face.

"Guilty as charged," said Eola cheerfully. "What? Don't look at me like that, you know what I'm like by now. All I care about is my next meal."

"There's more to life than the hunt!" Liriel cried, throwing her hands up in frustration.

"Is there?" Eola asked, eyebrow raised. Liriel fought back the urge to slap her.

"Look, do you want in on this job or not?" she hissed. Eola grinned at that, crossing her legs and settling in to listen.

"So there is a job then. Let me guess, the Forsworn have hired you to kill someone they can't get to themselves. Who is it?"

"Let's just say there are a few internal dissensions within the Forsworn with regards to policy," Liriel said delicately. "And that a certain high-ranking member of the Forsworn is rapidly losing patience with this state of affairs and has retained me to deal with some of said dissenters, namely other high-ranking members of the Forsworn. Apparently if my client does it directly, all Oblivion will break loose, but if the Brotherhood do it, with no link back to said client, my client can then move in and clean up the mess, take their camps over and with any luck the rest will fall into line."

"Cunning," said Eola thoughtfully. "Well, I may be able to help. Perhaps. I don't suppose you're prepared to tell me who your client is, are you?"

"No," said Liriel pointedly. "Honestly Eola, I'm a professional."

"Pity," said Eola, shrugging. "I'm just wondering who is high-ranked enough to want to do all this, but not high-ranked enough to take on a Hag and survive politically. Can't be a Briar Heart, they don't have the imagination." She smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the table and propping her head up. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll tell me in good time. I'm allowed to know the target at least, hmm?"

"A Hagraven called Petra at Blind Cliff Cave," Liriel told her. "She's imprisoned her sister Melka, and M- my client thinks that if we pay Melka a visit and offer to deal with her sister, she might be persuaded to back our client in return."

"Hags. I knew it," said Eola, grinning. "Count me in on this one, Liriel. I just have one question. You said this might not be the only job, and honestly, if I was in charge of a number of Forsworn camps and was looking to consolidate my hold on the rest, Blind Cliff Cave would barely figure in my plans."

"That's not a question," said Liriel, wondering what on earth was going on in the girl's head.

"No, it's not. My question is – these targets. Would the King in Rags be among them? Madanach?"

Liriel's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding, world going into slow motion at the mere thought of Madanach dying. Never, no never, he's my friend, he's one of us, I'd take my own life before I'd take his.

"No," Liriel rasped, her throat going dry. "No, we're not going after him."

Eola closed her eyes, smiling as if at some secret only she knew. Opening them, she sat up, shook herself down and got to her feet.

"Then I'm in." She held out a hand to Liriel, smiling at her. "Shall we?"

Liriel nodded mutely, not at all sure what had just happened there, but something had shifted in the wind and she had the uncanny feeling Eola had guessed who the client was.

"Let's get going," Liriel said hastily. "We've got some Hagravens to sort out."


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 

NagisaHighElf

New Member
(((Warning for unashamed cannibalism on Eola's part
Chapter Text)))

Blind Cliff Cave was a fair hike from Reachcliff, and the journey wasn't helped by Eola guiltily tugging at Liriel's sleeve and asking if she could wear the Shrouded Armour instead.

“I don't want them seeing my face!” she pleaded. “I might run into someone I used to know! Please, Liriel?”

“It will never fit you!” Liriel protested, but gave in. She changed into her Shrouded Robes and Eola took the armour. Various belts and buckles had to be adjusted and the legs rolled up, but it fit in the end. Sort of.

“It's too tight!” Eola wailed.

“I cannot help it if you're fat, Eola,” Liriel hissed, drawing a buckle in.

“I am not fat!” Eola shouted. “Just because you're preternaturally skinny! Seriously, what is it with you Altmer anyway? Does all that extra magicka eat up your muscle mass?”

“That extra magicka will be eating up yours if you don't stop whining,” Liriel muttered. “There, you're done. And you had better be able to fight in that, because if this goes to the Void, I will be wanting back-up, especially as that's my only proper armour. You just be grateful I'm a mage.”

“So am I, I consider my mage armour up to the job,” Eola said pointedly.

“Oh, be quiet, we're here,” Liriel said, taking a deep breath, casting her mage armour and trying to remember all Madanach had taught her. Fists clenched, to the shoulder. Breathe, Liriel, breathe.

Eola at her back, she walked in.

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

First person she came across was a Forsworn sentry, standing idly around – or at least he was until he saw her.

“Hey! You'll regret facing the Forsworn!” he cried, axes raised – and then he saw both the robes and the clenched fists and hesitated.

“Greetings in the name of the old gods,” Liriel said, trying not to sound nervous. “I am here in the name of Sithis, seeking the Matriarch Melka.”

Slowly, the sentry lowered his weapons, gulping.

“She – she's Matriarch no more, but – but she's here. I mean, in the tower. Did Petra send for you?” He caught Liriel's raised eyebrow and looked away, skin flushed, and Liriel realised he was awfully young in human terms.

“No, no, I suppose I shouldn't ask, should I?” he said quickly. “Bad luck to ask – go on through. Just keep going up – she's the one in the cage. Er... hail Sithis!” Sheathing his weapons, he darted to one side, fists clenched and eyes rooted to the ground. Liriel merely nodded her thanks and swept on in like a proper Altmer lady, Eola following silently in her wake.
It was the same all the way through the castle, Forsworn leaping out, taking one look at the robes and seeing Liriel's clenched fists, and backing off, hearing her say she was here for Melka in the name of Sithis and immediately waving her through.

Finally, they found Melka, sitting in a cage. The Hag looked up at the robes, eyes wide.

“No, no, not like this!” she screeched. “I did not call on the Dread Father, I did not call the Ascended One! Tell me it is not me you have come for!”

“It is you I came for,” Liriel purred, gliding over in her Shrouded Shoes. “But not to kill you – not if you listen to my proposal.”

Melka seized on the chance, looking hopeful. “A proposal, a proposal, yes, Melka shall listen. Melka will help the pretty flesh if she will help Melka, yes? Melka would not wish to offend the Dread Father, no. I just want my tower back and my treacherous sister dead!”

Liriel leaned closer, hiding her revulsion behind a cruel little smile. “It can be arranged, Melka. For a price.”

“A price, a price, yes, I have a staff, the Eye of Melka, yours if you kill Petra, yes!” Melka cried, grin revealing yellowed teeth as she rattled the bars of the cage. “Now let me out!”

“No,” said Liriel softly. “I have another price.”

Melka hissed, glaring at her. “The Shrouded Meat is a hard bargainer. Very well, tell me. I just want my tower, I care little for anything else.”

“You can have your tower,” said Liriel. “You can do whatever magical research or rituals you want in it. But those soldiers, guarding you, your Forsworn warriors – those are what I'm after.”

“What??” Melka screeched, rustling her feathers. “Why would you want them? Recruits? The Auld Alliance died years ago, Shrouded Morsel. The Forsworn have a war to fight.”

“Yes, they do,” said Liriel, feeling her adrenaline build. “But not under your command. They can stay here, guarding this place, but they won't be serving you. Pledge yourself and them to the King in Rags, Melka. Swear an oath that when Madanach needs those warriors, they'll march to his side.”

Melka's eyes widened, then she backed off, claws raised, shrieking in outrage.

“Him! That boy! That cursed boy! He who thinks he's the equal of a Hag! He doesn't deserve the title King, not when he's been hiding in a cave for the last twenty years!”

“He was not hiding!” Liriel snarled, raising her hands, flame magic at the ready. “He is the rightful leader of the Forsworn, the true Lord of the Reach, the Reach-King that was and will be again! And you will serve him, Melka, or I shall take this offer to your sister instead and see if she's any more receptive!”

“Tssss!” Melka hissed, flinging herself against the bars of the cage. “How dare he! How dare the upstart call in the Dark Brotherhood against his rightful mistresses! Treacherous, deceitful, son of a skeever – ack!”

The lightning bolt flew narrowly past Liriel's head and just over Melka's shoulder. Liriel turned to see Eola there, smoke rising from her hand and eyes narrowed.

“Do you mind?” Liriel snapped. “A little discipline for once?” Eola muttered something and relented, arms folded and looking mutinous.

“Don't tell me you don't want Petra dead,” Liriel said, calling on the honeyed words that had served her so well in Altmer high society. “Don't tell me you wouldn't have called us in yourself if you'd had the chance. Madanach doesn't want to start murdering Matriarchs, he just wants them to ensure that his warriors are ready when he needs them. You can use them for whatever you like in the mean time. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?”

“It is a coward's bargain,” Melka hissed scornfully. “Madanach is too afraid to face me himself!”

Liriel shrugged and prepared to walk off. She'd tried. She could always kill both Hagravens if she had to. Madanach wouldn't mind either way.

“Come on,” she said to Eola. “We're going to talk to Petra. I'm sure she'll be very interested indeed to hear that Melka called the Sacrament down on her.”

“WAIT!” Melka cried. “Morsel, wait!”

Liriel stopped, suppressing a smile. She knew she'd won right there.

“I... just want my tower back,” Melka growled. “Fine, fine, let me out, if you help me kill Petra, you can tell the arrogant brat he'll have no trouble from me. He can call the warriors up whenever he needs them. Just as long as I am left alone in my tower, free to pluck eyeballs, tasty eyeballs!”

“Sweet Namira, even I don't eat the eyeballs,” Eola muttered. Liriel hushed her and turned back to Melka.

“Done. I'll let you out. Go back on your word, and I'll be back to kill you personally,” Liriel said, reaching for the cage release. The door opened and Melka scuttled out, grinning.

“Understood, understood, the Shrouded Flesh shall have no trouble from me,” Melka cackled, rubbing her claws together. “Now, let us kill my treacherous sister!”

They went on to do just that, Forsworn seeing Melka free and the Dark Brotherhood in their wake and melting into the shadows as they passed. At the top of the tower, a quick battle ensued and although Petra was powerful, she was outnumbered. Finally, she lay dead, charred remains lying in a heap on the floor.

“Dead! Dead! To the Void with you, dead sister!” Melka screeched at the body. The two Forsworn in the chamber were already on their knees.

“You will honour your promise?” Liriel asked, hands on her hips. Melka nodded.

“Yes, yes. Tell him he has my gratitude,” Melka growled, a little surly but seemingly acquiescent. It would do.

“And the other promise?” Liriel asked, holding out her hand. Maybe Madanach was paying her anyway, but a bonus was always nice.

“Yes, the Eye of Melka,” Melka said, grimacing, opening up a secret compartment in the wall an producing a Forsworn-made staff, handing it over. “Kill something pretty with it.”

Liriel said she would and took her leave. It was only once they'd got out of the tower and down the road that Eola ripped the cowl off and sank to her knees, hands clutching at her head.

“Eola?” Liriel asked, worried. “Are – are you all right?” Eola really didn't look it, and Liriel couldn't think what might have got to her. Eola was not a woman with a weak stomach by any stretch of the imagination.

“You're really working for him, aren't you?” Eola's voice was almost a whisper, but Liriel's sensitive Elven hearing caught the words. “Madanach. The King in Rags.”

No sense keeping it secret any more. “Yes,” Liriel admitted. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Problem?!” Eola looked up and to Liriel's surprise, Eola looked delighted, huge smile on her face. “Void, no! Do you have any idea who you've teamed up with??”

“Well, he's the leader of the Forsworn,” said Liriel, puzzled. “Used to be Reach-King until the Nords overthrew him, and he wants his country back. I do know all this, Eola.”

“Not like a Reachwoman, you don't,” said Eola, getting to her feet. “Liriel, everyone's got a King in Rags story to tell. The man is a legend! They say he can shoot hawks from 200 feet away with his shock magic.”

This was true – Liriel had seen him do that very thing.

“They say he's so good at Illusion spells, he once got cornered by fifteen Nord mercenaries on his own and got away by getting them to start hacking into each other,” Eola was enthusing, eyes alive with excitement. “They say he's as cunning as a fox, they say he fights like a sabre cat, they say he's Red Eagle come again. He was the first in years to get us all united properly again, to start planning for an uprising and taking advantage of the Great War to kick the Nords out. Even when they took the city back, he got away, stayed on the run for five years nearly, always one step ahead. Then they caught him and locked him away for twenty damn years, but now they say he's back. That he broke out and rained blood and death on the streets of Markarth and he's still as strong as ever and didn't go mad or anything.”

Liriel thought of Cicero, alone for eight years at Cheydinhal, going mad in silence while he waited for a Listener, and then Madanach, shut away entirely for twice that time and still coming out fighting, and while Madanach could hardly be said to be a saint, one thing he definitely wasn't was insane.

“He's still strong and he's not crazy,” Liriel said, smiling. “Want to meet him? I can take you to his camp – he's not fond of outsiders, but you were a Forsworn too, I'm sure he'd be happy to welcome you back – Eola?”

She'd gone pale, her smile fading.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I can't, I'm sorry, I can't. Liriel, please, you mustn't tell him about me, promise you won't say a word!”

“Er... OK?” Liriel said, confused at how Eola could go from hero-worshipping him to terrified in seconds. “Why not?”

“Because I ran away,” Eola said quietly. “I'm a deserter, Liriel. You don't know what he does to deserters – he may or may not catch them but if he ever finds them again... it's not good. I can't... I can't face him, Liriel. Not the King in Rags. I know he's been in prison most of my life, I doubt he'd know who I was to look at me, but... please, Liriel. I'm not sure I could handle it if he turned on me.”

Well, that would explain quite why Eola had been so paranoid about being recognised. All the same, Liriel had to wonder if maybe the woman was overreacting just a bit. Still, she also had to admit Eola knew the Forsworn better than she did.

“All right, I won't tell him,” Liriel promised. “I'll make sure you get a cut of the gold though. Only fair.”

“No rush,” said Eola, linking arms with Liriel. “Come on, let's get back to Markarth. Be nice to have a night at the inn for once.”

Which Liriel would no doubt end up paying for but nevertheless, she'd been travelling all day, it was the early hours of the morning now and she didn't fancy making for Druadach Redoubt in the dark, especially not as her horse was back at Markarth stables. Back to Markarth it was then. She just hoped she didn't get too many comments about the last time she'd been there.

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

“Jarl wants to see you.”

Not the words Liriel wanted to hear from the guards, especially as last time she'd been here, she'd been arrested, imprisoned and escaped.

“What about?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Didn't say,” the guard shrugged. “Just said to tell you to pay him a visit if you came this way again.”

Well, they weren't arresting her, but all the same, Liriel felt uneasy.

“Think we should go?” Liriel murmured to Eola. Eola just shrugged.

“Up to you, it's you he wants to see. But if you were in trouble, I don't think he'd have taken a chance and let you walk in unmolested.”

A fair point. So Liriel decided to investigate. She could always cast a few Illusion spells and set the guards against each other if she had to.

It turned out to be the opposite of trouble. Jarl Igmund was feeling penitent and wished to apologise for her unjust treatment on her last visit.

“We had no idea Madanach was behind all those murders,” Igmund said, sounding genuinely heartfelt. “Thonar always assured me his spirit was utterly broken and he was half-mad due to the isolation. To know he was running the Forsworn from inside Cidhna Mine – but don't you worry. We'll find him and this time no one's getting in the way of him and a fast execution like the criminal he is.”

Liriel smiled sweetly, nodding politely. We'll see about that, Igmund. The King in Rags is not for hunting by the likes of you.

“I have every confidence in you, my Jarl,” said Liriel smoothly. “I'm just glad the little misunderstanding over my involvement was cleared up.”

“Yes, I feel I owe you some recompense for that,” said Igmund, looking sheepish. “Especially due to all you've done for this Hold. Finding the Sybil of Dibella, helping young Muiri out with her ex-lover, helping get Calcelmo and Faleen together, helping get the Hall of the Dead re-opened, and Nepos the Nose speaks very highly of you, calls you a true friend to the Reach.”

“Do thank him for me,” Liriel purred. “He's such a lovely man.” She'd never actually laid eyes on the man personally, but she could see Madanach's influence at work there.

“I will do that,” Igmund promised. “But first, there's the matter of compensating you. There's room in my court for a new Thane. It's an honorary title mainly, but there's a few perks someone like you could make use of. You're already well-known throughout the Hold, but if you purchase a house from my Steward and take care of a little task for me, I'd be very glad to make you my Thane.”

Liriel wasn't entirely sure if Madanach was going to approve of this, but on the other hand, the perks sounded nice. She knew what a Thane was entitled to – the guards looking the other way for lesser offences, a shiny weapon from the armoury... and a housecarl. With Lydia watching her kids, Liriel could do with another bodyguard.

“I'd be honoured,” she told him. “What's the job you want doing?”

“It's a tricky one,” said Igmund. “Many years ago, when my father was Jarl, he tried to stop the Forsworn. Tried to negotiate, establish a treaty. They refused and they killed him. Raerek, my uncle, got his body back here for burial and gave me his sword – but he couldn't bring the shield as well. The Forsworn took it, and they have it still, at the camp they call Hag Rock Redoubt. Liriel, if you were to find that shield, I'd make you my Thane.”

Hag Rock Redoubt. The camp she'd tried and failed to get the pommel stone from. How very fortuitous. She glanced at Eola, who nodded once. Excellent.

“I'll do it,” she promised.

“I hope you will,” Igmund said softly. “That shield meant a lot to me. Those Forsworn bastards may have killed my father but I can at least get his relics home.”

Liriel smiled and took her leave, stopping only to hand over her entire coin purse to purchase Vlindrel Hall from Raerek and get some basic furnishings put in – just the hall, bedroom, kitchen and living room but that would do for now. She'd have to think about whether to move her girls here – but no. If her association with Madanach became known and she had to flee, or if the Forsworn Rebellion escalated and Madanach really did take the city, it was best if her girls were elsewhere, safe in Whiterun. Still, a base in the city was a useful thing to have, especially since she envisaged spending time here. A lot more time.

The house itself was up about three steep flights of stairs, a small Dwemer home overlooking the city gates. Inside was surprisingly homely, and as she began to cook for them both, in no way shape or form wanting Eola anywhere near her kitchen, she asked Eola if Madanach would disapprove of them treating Drascua as they had Petra.

“Disapprove? Are you kidding? Drascua's one of the biggest pains in the arse around,” Eola replied from where she was lounging in a nearby chair. “She runs Hag Rock herself, and it's a huge camp, one of the most heavily fortified anywhere. She's got a fair few Briar Hearts at other camps too. I don't think he'd mind at all, in fact I think you'd be doing him a service. Are you going after her then? You clearly knew her name without me or Igmund telling you. Is this something Madanach told you or is there a contract?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Liriel. “Let's just say she has something a client of mine wants and is willing to pay good money for. Are you in?”

Eola raised the bottle of mead she'd helped herself to. “Oh absolutely, my friend. You can count me right in.”

Liriel smiled, turning back to her stew. Two clients satisfied in one easy job. This just got better and better.

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

In the end, it proved even easier than Blind Cliff Cave had been. The Forsworn had simply melted away before her, even the Briar Heart hesitating. The troll had been leashed and led away, and finally they'd cornered Drascua in front of a Word Wall, busy sacrificing some poor fool in a Soul Gem powered fire trap that she'd immediately turned on them.

Eola had yelped and leapt to one side, summoning a Flame Atronach. Liriel had cast her mage armour and staggered back, warding with one hand, blasting lightning right back with the other, and then remembered she was in fact a Dragonborn.

One blast of Unrelenting Force later and the soul gems had fallen off their pedestals, Drascua was flying back into the wall and Eola was leaping forward, blasting away with fire magic at the unfortunate Hagraven.

Liriel raised her own hands and added lightning to Eola's fire. Drascua shrieked her last and finally succumbed to the onslaught.

Liriel paused long enough to learn the word off the Word Wall and get that chanting out of her head, then she was searching the Hagraven. Finally she found it, the small black stone that was part of Mehrunes' Razor.

“Got it!” she called out to Eola. “Eola, I got it! Eola?”

Eola had been ferreting around under the altar and retrieved a box from a secret compartment.

“Hags, all the same, you'd think they'd use some imagination,” Eola said, flipping it open and removing the Soul Gem keeping the contents fresh. Liriel came to look over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn't. Three still-beating hearts were lying there in a pool of blood.

“Oh Sithis, are they...?” Liriel began, feeling queasy.

“Yep!” said Eola, grinning. “The hearts of her Briar Hearts, her means of controlling them. We destroy these, they die.”

“You're going to eat them, aren't you – Mara's mercy,” said Liriel, forcing herself to look away as Eola bit into one of them, blood spurting everywhere.

“W'nt sh'm?” Eola asked, still chewing.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” said Liriel, pointedly looking elsewhere. That shield had to be round here somewhere...

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

Igmund had been ecstatic to see the shield again and had had no problems making her Thane, presenting her with a nice Elven bow with a fire enchantment on it for her trouble. Liriel's archery was by no means as good as her magical skills, but it was good enough. She thanked him and left with Eola.

“Staying here tonight?” Eola asked. “We could get to know your new housecarl. They might be cute. They might be... tasty.” She was smiling that smile again, the seductive one that gave Liriel the shivers and that had had her doing the unthinkable once.

“No,” said Liriel firmly. “No eating my housecarls! Honestly, Eola, there are limits. Now, I'm going back to Druadach tonight. Are you coming too or are you still determined not to face Madanach?”

Eola's whole expression closed up at the mention of his name.

“It's best for all of us if I don't go there,” she said. “There'd likely be a scene. It would be... unpleasant. If you're going there, you go alone. But I'll be back at the Shrine if you need me.”

Well, if that was her wish, Liriel wasn't going to force her. She reclaimed her Shrouded Armour back off Eola, said her goodbyes and retrieving her horse, rode north. Madanach awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Last time she'd been there, Druadach Redoubt had mostly been inside, with a small outside area behind the stockade where there was a fire and a tent and usually guards. Not this time. More tents had appeared outside the camp, and there must have been about five Forsworn milling around, none of whom she recognised. None of them recognised her either.

“First you, then all of the Reach!” cried one, racing towards her furiously. Liriel was back in her own Forsworn gear, but it didn't help her. Crying out, she clenched her fists in the Forsworn gesture of non-violence. Her attacker hesitated, but it was Kaie's voice ringing out from the stockade that saved her.

“Leave her, she's one of us!” Kaie cried. The Forsworn who'd been poised to kill lowered her weapons, confused.

“But Princess, she's an Altmer!”

“She's our Altmer,” said Kaie, gritting her teeth. “Trust me, the King will be less than pleased if you hurt her. Liriel, honey, there you are. Get inside, he's waiting for you.”

Liriel didn't stop to think, just racing for the Redoubt and safety.

“Kaie, what's happening, who are all these people?” she whispered. “Is there some sort of festival going on?”

“About to be!” Kaie laughed. “What in the name of Sithis did you get up to out there? Half the Reach just turned up to pledge loyalty!”

Two Hagravens dead. Eola making sure the Briar Hearts died too. Melka would take care of Blind Cliff Cave, but Drascua's camp would be leaderless now as would any controlled by her Briar Hearts, and Madanach would have had no warning whatsoever. In the absence of anyone else to take charge, it was clear the camps had panicked and immediately sent delegations to the King in Rags, asking for help.

Sure enough, two Forsworn warriors were standing on the top tier, speaking with Madanach. Kaie immediately grabbed Liriel and bundled her into a nearby tent, but the walls were thin and Madanach's voice in particular carried.

“You did the right thing coming here, both of you. Don't worry, I will do everything I can to help. I'll send people over to help sort your camps out. Fear not, this is not a judgement of Sithis on you.”

“But sir, they just... stopped!” one of them, a woman, cried. “One minute Liam and Padraig were walking around as normal, the next they just fell to the floor screaming and died! How can it not be a judgement of Sithis? Red Eagle Redoubt's the cultural heart of us all, for our Briar Hearts to just die like that can't be anything else!”

“Red Eagle was the first Briar Heart and at his old stronghold, the Briar Hearts there are the first to fall,” said Madanach thoughtfully. “I agree, it's a judgement of Sithis all right – but not on me or you. I think it's a sign that the road we walk is maybe not the right one. We've become too reliant on the Hags and not on our own power, so Sithis is undermining the Hags so we don't have a choice about changing.”

“But sir, if the Hags fail, what will become of us?” the other one asked, a man this time. “This was no divine judgement either, two Daughters of Sithis just walked in and killed Drascua in a rain of fire! Sir, if someone's called in the Brotherhood and the Brotherhood are taking contracts against us now...”

“If the Hags fail, we'll fight without them,” Madanach snapped. “No one in my Forsworn's incapable, none of you are cowards. Red Eagle spent the first half of his life fighting without Hagraven help, and he wouldn't have needed it if his own people had supported him. Boy, do you trust me?”

“Yes sir, of course sir, but the Brotherhood...” the man began. Madanach just grunted dismissively.

“Let them come. If anyone was going to take a contract out on me, they'd have done it years ago. When Sithis comes for me, I will die like a true Reachman but until that day comes, I will not live in fear. I ask again, do you both trust me?”

“Yes sir,” the woman breathed. “I'd serve you until my last breath, Reach-King.”

Madanach laughed. “That's not my title yet, but by the grace of Anu it will be again. And you, boy?”

“For as long as you live, I will follow you,” the man said softly.

“And for as long as I live, I will never stop fighting for our freedom. You have my word on that, both of you.”

“Reach-King,” both warriors whispered and then there was just the sound of slapping on the back, presumably as Madanach embraced them both.

“Go,” she heard him say. “Go back to your friends outside and tell them I have heard your pleas and I will answer. Tomorrow I'll send some of my blood-brothers with you to help your camps, but for tonight, consider yourselves guests of the Lord of the Reach. We will light bale-fires and the jenever will flow, and we shall dance to show that the Dance goes on still! For the old gods and the Reach!”

“For the old gods! For the Reach!” half the camp chorused, and Liriel found herself mouthing the words with the others. No wonder Eola had had a case of hero-worship. On her previous visit, Madanach had been a man among intimates, relaxing with his daughter and with his blood-brothers, his fellow veterans of Cidhna Mine. Now he was playing the part of the King in Rags, and he was playing it to the full. Liriel was half-tempted to run out there and pledge loyalty to him herself. As it was, she waited for Kaie to come get her.

“All right, they're gone, you can come out now,” Kaie called, opening the tent flap. Liriel scrambled out, rushing up to the top level to where Madanach was gleefully redrawing the lines on his map. The glee was short-lived. As soon as he approached, he looked up and his brow furrowed as he glared at her.

“What in the name of Sithis do you think you're playing at?” he hissed, striding over to her and grabbing her by the shoulders. “I sent you to Blind Cliff Cave, not to take on Drascua of Hag Rock!”

“Well, maybe I needed to go there for my own reasons!” Liriel snapped back. “I do have priorities other than you, you know!” He was still seething, glaring at her furiously and guilt began to gnaw at her. She hoped she hadn't caused him trouble. “Er... should I not have killed her?”

“No! I mean, of course, she was going to be a target anyway, but... Sithis' sake, Liriel, you could have been killed! And what's this about two Daughters of Sithis?? You said your Sanctuary didn't support you as Listener. Exactly how many people are you going to bring in without telling me??”

“She's a friend,” Liriel said tersely. “A trusted friend who isn't going to sell me or you out. Look, you hired me as Listener of the Dark Brotherhood to get a job done. You do not get to tell me how to do it or who I decide to recruit!”

“Drascua was not who I hired you to kill!” Madanach seethed, eyes burning with fury. “She's the most dangerous of them all, I didn't want to send you up against her, not without time to think and plan! Damn it, Liriel, will you not think of me before you do these things? If you'd died...”

“Well, I didn't and she's dead, so if you could stop shouting and get around to paying me, I would be very appreciative!” Liriel said, glaring back at the stupid, obnoxious, son of a troll. Why she'd been quite so ready to swear fealty to him a minute ago was beyond her, in fact right now she could happily punch him. Then he laughed, smiled and Liriel forgot entirely why she was angry at him.

“Yes, yes, she's quite dead and you are still very much dancing, my Liriel,” he said fondly. “Come here.” He stepped forward and drew her into an embrace, cheek pressed to hers. She really didn't understand him sometimes and began to wonder if Cidhna Mine hadn't sent him a little crazy after all. Still, he seemed pleased.

“You've forgiven me then,” Liriel said, returning the embrace, enjoying the physical contact at least. He might be a little shorter than her, but by Sithis, he was strong. There were definitely muscles under that Forsworn armour, and she definitely needed to stop thinking about what else might be under there. Honestly, what was wrong with her these days? She was an Altmer of good family, she really shouldn't be getting quite so base in her thinking.

“There's nothing to forgive, Liriel,” he said gruffly. “By Sithis, do you know what you've done?? You've given me full control of the biggest Forsworn camp in the Reach, and Red Eagle Redoubt, the cultural birthplace of the Forsworn, all in one go. You've... you've given me the South. By the gods, Liriel, I don't even know how I'm going to repay you. But I'll give you gold, certainly, and anything else you need, anything at all, and by Anu, I will find you a gift worthy for a Dragon-Queen if it kills me.”

“No, don't die!” Liriel gasped, a little breathless although that was probably due to the way he was squeezing her. “I'd miss you.”

She regretted it the minute she said it. By Sithis, if he'd been obnoxious before, he'd be unbearable now. Mercifully, no mockery was forthcoming. He just squeezed her that bit tighter.

“I'd miss you too,” he said quietly, before letting her go, coughing nervously.

“Right,” he said gruffly. “Tonight we're doing what the Forsworn always do when something momentous happens, which is to get out under the sky, get some jenever down our throats and remind ourselves that the Dance of Life and Death isn't over, not for us at any rate. You'll be joining us, I trust.”

“Try stopping me,” Liriel laughed, linking her arm in his. Madanach looked a little surprised, but definitely pleased as he led her out. Time for the fun to commence.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 

Recent chat visitors

Latest posts

Top