Random One-shots (Complete)

Yandere Sheogorath x Reader 1/2

WARNING! mentions of blood and gore in this first half read at your own risk. Also, this is based more on a 'what if' scenario, in which the Champion of Cyrodiil never entered the Isles and never became the new Sheogorath.
So I guess SPOILERS ahead. ENJOY!

"My Lord is a creature of many personalities, each one holding a different aspect in the world around him. A world he created and rules over.
However, while I serve him and ensure his will is enforced in the Shivering Isles, I am not mad nor ignorant when his Lordship is in a mood. And by mood, I mean where he literally chews a part of his island and spits it somewhere else.
I would advise caution, however, should you ever decided to visit the Isles when he is like this, lest you become a statue doing the 'fish stick', as my Lord puts it.
However, I am not here to warn you about something that is few and far between. I am here to tell you the story, about the first time my Lord experianced something that never showed towards a mortal. Obsession.
So sit down mortals and make yourself comfortable, and I shall start with the introduction of how he first met you.
It all started after the Grey March of the third era, my Lord, Sheogorath, was suffering from the after effects of the change. And was completely vulnerable."

The dark, thundering clouds of rain that followed the aftermath of death and destruction of the Grey March, did nothing to help soothe Sheogorath's twisted mind as he lay in the bed room that once belonged to the 'King' of Mania. If anything, it made him feel worse.
It didn't work, the plan he had thought was fool proof had failed, no one was worthy to take his title, to hold his staff and take over until the Grey March was over.
And now he lay here, in this pathetic room as he tried to recover what strength he could before revealing himself to his fallen and dead realm. At least from what he could remember anyway, considering the change between him and that other Prince, he would always forget what had happened. As well as forget the mortals who lived there. Well, all except one anyway.
One moment he was looking down on his slowly dying Isles, the next he wakes up surrounded by nothing but dead corpses, both mortal souls and his most trusted guards, ruined buildings and mutilated areas. Glitching between his human form and his true form.
He would have enjoyed it if it had been him to have been the one to do it.
He turned away from the window and mentally sighed, the smell of rain, stone, and wet grass did nothing to calm him down. The barking sounds of 'order' coming from what remained of his guards were just background noises as he laid on the literal, stone cold bed, trying to push what little energy he had left to at least keep his human form solid.
His efforts were useless, as always, and so he was stuck staring at the ceiling with only the sound of thunder, rain and faint shouting sounds as company. At least until a knock came at the door before it opened, revealing a breton man in a black suit with a spiky red/black collar.
Even as he laid there weak and helpless, Sheogorath couldn't deny that Haskill was still a snappy dresser, especially when the man looked like he hadn't been caught in the fight at all. And Haskill was the only one he could remember when he came back from his 'vacation'.
"What's the damage outside?" by Oblivion, his voice sounded raspy and weak to his ears, he was supposed to be a god for Daedre sake, not a weak mortal.
But Haskill, bless him, made no comment on it, instead he spoke as if his Lordship wasn't bed ridden like a sick mortal "no damage was dealt in the city, except for the courtyard, which is covered in grey shard towers and bodies of your fallen guards" the man explained in his apathetic tone.
"And what of the places outside of New Sheo?"
"Half of the people are either dead or have sworn allegiance to the Grey Prince, no word on the damages at the Fringe yet"
"Get the details on the Fringe as soon as the guards are able, I need to-" he stopped when he did something he never thought he could do, he coughed. Hard, to the point where he thought he would cough up his heart. And his form began shifting once again between his human form, and his true form. His heart punching his chest as he tried to keep the coughing under control, with little success.
Haskill did nothing, he simply watched as his Lordship went through his coughing fit until it had calmed down. The fact that Lord Sheogorath was willing to show weakness in front of him, showed just how much he trusted Haskill to watch over him and his realm.
Sheogorath cursed in his home tongue as he laid down again, staring at the boring ceiling as he tried to get his breathing under control as well as trying to keep his body in human form.
"If I wasn't mad before, I'm certain I would be mad now" he chuckled dryly, lightly panting and not looking at Haskill "check for any survivors, there has to be at least one person still alive, I feel some power that isn't my own"
Yes, he had a power that came from his existance, but like other Princes, he could tell the differance between what was his, and what power was formed through worship. And right now, that power of worship was the only thing keeping him in control of his form as he tried to recover his other form of power.
Haskill bowed to him "it shall be done my Lord" and then he left.
And once again, Sheogorath was left to the sound of his own thoughts, the rain, the thunder, and wondering who the last survivor was, and how they hadn't died or served Jygalag while he was 'sleeping'.

Two days had passed since he ordered Haskill to search the Fringe as well as the survivor of the Grey March, and in that time he had managed to gain just enough strength and power to walk around and keep his human form in check.
How ironic that he wanted his human form to be 'perfect' as far as human standereds were concerned, when he was, to others, the complete oppisite of perfect.
UGH! he was getting a headache just thinking about it.
Right now, he was sitting at his throne, still feeling weak but much better at hiding it in front of his guards. They had come back from removing the bodies, which he was thinking on using as puppets for a play he had been working on in his spare time, or as decorations for his palace walls, when Haskill came into the room with someone walking behind him, along with two guards, a Gold Saint and a Dark Seducer.
"My Lord, we found the survivor, they are shaken up but otherwise appear unharmed"
He moved to the side so that Sheogorath could have a better look at them. And he was not that impressed. The mortal before him was a (gender) (race type), they wore some loose fitting clothes that allowed them to move properly, with a belt that held two weapons, covered in red and grey blood, snugly at their hips.
If it wasn't for the fact that they were dead, Sheogorath would have assumed they were someone who had stumbled into his realm before the Grey March.
"How did you survive the attack?" he asked in his neutral tone, he was still tired to play the role of a 'mad man'.
The dead mortal didn't look him in the eye as their head was tilted downwards slightly, but their tone showed respect as they spoke.
"I was at the Fringe when the creatures in grey appeared, I had tried my best to defend those who couldn't defend for themselves, but either they died or decided to serve them, my Lord" they replied calmly.
Sheogorath was silent for a moment, eyeing the creature more with some interest, he waved his hand at everyone else, signaling them to leave the room, including Haskill, before asking "you are not a fighter by nature, so what were you before dying?"
"I used to be a performer of sorts, dancing was the main focus but I was also a fight performer, although people didn't appreciate that kind of entertaiment," they said with disdain.
"Fight as entertaiment?" sure, war could be entertaining when spiced up a little, but he had never heard of fight entertaiment before.
"Basically I fight someone until they submit, there's no killing in the performance, although I can still do it without anyone"
Yeah, that sounded boring, still, it would give him something to do while he recovered before fixing his realm. He couldn't talk to people on Nirn anyway, he still didn't have the energy to make the connection. Any entertaiment was better than nothing he supposed.
"How would you like to be my dancer and entertainer?"
The spark in your eye when you looked at him in shock and happiness, almost caused his composure and form to shiver and break.
"Show me what you can do, and maybe I'll consider it"
Your natural dancing, along with your dance of weapons, made Sheogorath content for the first time since he had woken up.

"I hope that satisfied you, for now, I must stop now and tend to his Lordship.
Until next time, mortal readers."