Strings Attanched

Strings Attached

There was nothing like ice cold stone against his bare skin to wake him up. As he jolted upright, his eyes scanned the land around him, finding it wholly unfamiliar, and cold. He slowly stood up, furrowing his brow and muttering curses of Sheogorath's name. He should have expected making such deals with the Daedric Lord of Madness to end in nothing but betrayal and confusion. He hadn't expected the Prince of Madness to return to the Shivering Isles, not after that troublesome battle with Jyggalag, which had cost him true sight in one of his eyes. Yet still, he remembered very clearly the moment when Sheogorath came back.

***

The air around him suddenly changed. There was a far more dream like mist to it. Sheogorath's laughter was the first thing he heard, and then his eyes fell upon the Daedra's face. Sheogorath wore the smile he always did, and his voice rang clear as day through the throne room around them. "Ah! Looks like y'did a fine job of keeping the place in perfect disorder while I was away!" Haskill's attention was caught immediately, and he turned to his lord in disbelief.

Alleyar stood from his throne, furrowing a brow. It was both a relief and a burden to see Sheogorath, though the feeling in his gut told him it was going to end up being far more of the latter. "And you've returned far earlier than expected. I thought you sealed away for eternity." He leaned upon his staff.

"So did I! Not much fun, that, is it?" the Daedra laughed, "But now I'm back, and I've come to reclaim what is mine."

The Dunmer narrowed his eyes. "And at what cost? I only assume your madness will be the death of me."

Sheogorath shook his head. "And what fun would that be? No, no, no! Not after all you've done for me! I mean, just look at this place! Despair and jubilance all around! Intertwined like a tangled spool'a rope!"

Alleyar frowned and gripped his fingers around the head of his staff. "It wasn't of my making, Sheogorath. This place has a life of its own. I have been its ruler for decades, and yet I see no influence of my own in these lands. It is still your domain. I assume it always has been." Alleyar stepped down from the throne as Sheogorath began to walk toward him. The two met in the middle of the carpet.

"And that would make you a smart one!" Sheogorath smirked. "Turns out that there's no getting rid of me. Order, chaos, the two don't exist without the other. Which is why I need my throne back, and-" The staff in Alleyar's hands flew into Sheogorath's grip. "-a staff with such unique properties as your own. I really must thank you, you know. I can't imagine what would have become of this place while Jyggalag was having his way somewhere else." Haskill stepped forward, as if he knew exactly when Sheogorath was going to call his name, which he may well have, indeed. "Haskill! We should bid our 'Prince of the Isles' farewell. His presence can't be here while I rebuild."

Alleyar tensed, hand sliding back to rest on the hilt of his sword. "I would hope you don't wish to kill me. I defeated Jyggalag, and I can do the same to you."

Sheogorath burst into laugh-cackles, shaking his head. "Always with the killing! You assume your that important, which you are, but you're also not. Ahhh, no. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to send you back." Alleyar felt the ground quake beneath his feet, steadying himself and looking around the room. He noticed the walls falling apart like ashes, flying into blackness. "You see, while we're both here, the realm is in tatters." He looked back to Sheogorath, "It's going to take a long while to put this all back together. I assume that's around when you'll arrive home."

"What?" Alleyar said shortly before another quake.

"Or you may arrive far before any of this ever happened! Who knows! I can't guarantee when you'll be anywhere at all, but I can guarantee that you'll be there."