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Heir Apparent

Summary:

For decades the Empire has struggled to heal itself, but without an Heir to the Ruby Throne it seems it's only a matter of time until it falls to the Thalmor. In the free province of Skyrim, the two Dragonborn are working to build lives for the prisoners they freed from Alinor. Now Imperial assassins are after them, and they'll have to confront the Elder Council to discover why.

Notes:

Oh Look! Another installment in the Asylum'Verse. What is this witchery?

 

So, the Ilustration. Evil designed Rommy, I made him happen as an actual Character in Skyrim. A friend on deivant art Sir-douglas-of-fir took a screencap, and Evil doctored it and made it awesome.

 

 

 

Chapter 1: By the Pricking of my Thumbs...

Chapter Text

 

Prologue

The room was not lavish by their normal standards, but it was dim enough for them to ignore that. Moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains, which could have been any shade from dark red to a more conservative blue, but at the moment looked black and dour. The shadows hung heavy in the corners and below the furniture, giving an air of the mysterious, of the forbidden, to the simple room. So Amaund Motierre told himself, anyway. Smiling thinly, he glanced over the gold-dipped rim of his perfectly clear cut crystal glass at those he had managed to assemble as they settled themselves on the velvet upholstery.

"Amaund! What is the meaning of this…this travesty!" Alexia sniffed, displeased with the setting, company, and latest events. Nothing seemed to please her. She flounced in her chair, fussing with her skirts to settle them just so.

"The real travesty is what is happening to our Empire, Lady Vici" he replied, bowing over the cup of wine he handed her. The woman insisted she'd been run out of Skyrim by heretical Nord barbarians, but he wouldn't be surprised in the least if they had paved a road just for her.

"Truly? I hadn't realized." Alexia's voice was as dry as the Ala'kir. "Somehow the rampaging barbarians and hauty elves escaped my notice."

"Tis truly the End Times!" Dum Faustus intoned in his quavery wail, his wrinkled hands passing over his liver-spotted bald pate. "Alduin's returned and the Empire unravels around us! I told you! I told it would come to this—"

"Oh calm yourself, you old fool! Nothing is ending. If a snippet of a Khajiit can turn Alduin on his tail, there's no reason we can't bring this Empire back into shape, and send those pesky goldenrods running." Salonia's voice snapped Lord Faustus out of his rant, leaving him gape-jawed at her frosty tone. She settled herself like a bird of prey lightly in her chair, back rigid and regarding them all with a stern gaze over her lightly fluttering fan.

"Indeed," Amaund agreed, suppressing a shudder as the woman reminded him strongly of his mother at her angriest. "But to do that, we have to address these…rumors out of Skyrim."

"Which one?" Alexia continued to fuss with her skirts, then regarded Amaund with a sarcastic smirk. "I can assure you Skyrim is a lost cause, overrun with dirty Nords, unruly Khajiit, and sheer lunacy. We're well rid of the place."

"So, which does that leave your daughter? Didn't she stay there, married to a..what was your charming term? Dirty Nord?" Salonia felt no need to hide her claws. The old bat more than deserved the snide dig.

"She'll eventually come round. She simply has to learn for herself the hard way. If she doesn't, she's just another victim of that upstart's insanity," Alexia refused to rise to the bait. Being set in one's ways and certain sure had its advantages.

"I got the letter this morning," Amaund interjected before that could get out of hand.

"Letter? What letter?" Salonia did not care for surprises, and wondered how her informants had missed this letter.

The Breton gave her a slight, false smile, "When these rumors of a Septim Heir first came to us, I cast about for a bit more information," he told her. "As you all did, I'm sure. The trouble is, so did a few of the other Councilors. It seems there actually is a man in Windhelm angling for the Ruby Throne."

"But how likely is he to really be a Septim? After all this time? I thought the Mythic Dawn took them all down, well, except Martin, but…" Alexia gestured vaguely in the direction of the giant statue still in the heart of the City. One could make the argument the Mythic Dawn did for him, as well.

"Does it truly matter?" Amaund countered, giving her a solemn look. "Mede has yet to declare an Heir after his nephew's accident. The Medes are dying out. Titus is too old to father any children, and his sister is practically on death's door. The people are getting antsy."

"It matters, if they can prove this claim. The people have romanticized the old Empire all out of proportion; entire Empire would rally to a 'True Septim.' If we can prove them false, we can install someone…more suited to our collective needs." Salonia agitatedly fluttered her fan again.

"And that," Amaund said with a hint of a triumphant smile in her direction, "Is why I have brought you, the most astute of the Imperial Court and Council, here tonight. The news I got this morning is promising."

"You managed to set eyes on them, then?" the last member of their party finally spoke up. Amaund turned to take in the towering form of the High Chancellor, calmly making himself some strong tea at the sideboard. A Nord himself, Eirik Hubro never bothered to fit fully in with the other members of the mostly Imperial court, flaunting his warrior's physique as readily as the magical prowess that sent him climbing through the ranks of the Shadow Legion. He glanced up at Amaund mildly, looking almost sleepy, "The children?"

"Children?" Alexia's attention perked up.

"Children?" Salonia's fan was tapping thoughtfully against one palm. "Young, malleable, and impressionable children?" For the first time, Alexia and Salonia's eyes met in complete understanding.

"The Empire is saved! It shall be reborn in the image of these young Septims!" Faustus waved his bony arms in his enthusiasm.

"Uh, of course, something like that," Salonia hid her scheming smile behind her fan.

"Well, certainly in someone's image," Alexia nodded to herself.

"It would undoubtedly save us hassle, if we could substantiate their claim, to raise the pair here," the High Chancellor said, his steps surprisingly light as he strode over to the largest chair in the room and settled himself on it, somehow managing to look completely at home. "The trouble, of course, is with their father."

"Yes, what do we know of this upstart?" Salonia's fan once again beat a thoughtful tattoo against her palm.

Alexia snorted. "He's a Nord! What else do you need to know?"

"Indeed, we Nords have a habit of seizing power by force if needed," Eirik replied lightly, smiling gently. "I do not relish another war with the Stormcloak army, especially with the Thalmor on our Southern and Eastern borders."

"And with a 'Real Septim' to rally behind? Half of our own are bound to help them," Salonia shuddered delicately, "Or join them."

Dum Faustus gasped in his chair, as if seized by a vision. "It mustn't come to that! Our Empire would tear itself to pieces! The End Times made real!"

"Enough of your doom and gloom, Faustus! Everything is not the End Times Come!" Alexia actually turned around to snap at the old man, plainly irritated.

"Lady Carvain has a point, though," the Nord said, nodding to Salonia. "I have my own sources of this man. He claims to be an Amulius. We all know some of the romantic tales that came out about that." He scoffed quietly, "As if there is anything romantic about a leader seducing the wife of his Champion."

Faustus snorted in outrage. "Martin Septim would never! He was a monk!"

"Which raises interesting questions itself, doesn't it? If not from Martin Septim, then where does the claim originate? Nothing in Amulius' family tree would grant a right to the throne." Salonia was still thoughtfully fluttering her fan. "Either Martin wasn't much of a monk…"

"I will share something with you that another Councilor and I have been discussing," the High Chancellor said after a moment of weighty thought. "It was not well-known, even among the Council of the time, but Martin did unofficially name an Heir."

"Oh did he?" Salonia's fan fluttered furiously and she recrossed her legs. "Who? And why?"

Eirik smiled, blue eyes not warming in the least. "The young son of the Champion. Most believed it to be a gesture of friendship. Too old, by the way, to have been Martin's."

Amaund blinked, hand tightening slightly around his glass. He hadn't known that. "So even without some kind of blood claim, the man is a Septim by adoption?"

"He's been held thirty years by those bloody elves on top of being raised in the wilds of Skyrim, we can't let that…walking disaster take the throne!" Alexia was all but beating her fists on the cushions of her settle.

"You've not been down to the taverns," Eirik replied, still with that slight smile riding his face. "There are plenty of Nord sailors that go in and out of the Skyrim Ports, taking tales and songs with them. This 'Tyrlief Mammoth-Rider' apparently lead them all to a grand victory against their oppressors, rallied dragons and nature itself. All after absorbing a dragon's soul." He put down the empty teacup with a faint click. Amaund couldn't help but feel it punctuated the sentence. "It may be bollocks, it may have a grain of truth to it, but whatever the case, he was in that prison because he was a Legionnaire. What we have, ladies and gentlemen, is a war hero that led his fellow Legionnaires out of imprisonment. The majority of them weren't Nords, either. These are our own men singing his praises."

"We're sunk. If he came for the Throne, hell, the Penitus Oculatus would back him."

"The Pentius Oculatus was created by the Medes," Eirik reminded her. "They won't be so easily swayed. There is the matter of the number of Blades suddenly creeping out of the woodwork, however."

"Ha! Looks like the elves weren't as good at extermination as they thought," Alexia seemed to take some grim satisfaction in that.

"But Tyrlief might be," the High Chancellor pointed out, leaning back. "His friend Ulfric certainly cleaned out the advisors he didn't want. A man left to rot in a Thalmor prison for three decades only to find his homeland's patron god outlawed? He might have some…grudges against those in power."

"Doom falls upon us all!"

"What did I tell you, Faustus?" Alexia threatened Dum where he sat. "Your doom'll come quicker if you keep caterwauling!" Faustus sank back against his chair as Alexia rose from hers like an avenging daedra.

"Lady Vici," the High Chancellor finally rose and placed himself between them, "While your initiative is admirable, Lord Faustus is an old man and would not survive your tender ministrations well."

"That's the whole point." Alexia shot daggerfilled stares around the imposing Nord at the focus of her ire.

"With the end of the Medes impending, he is not the only one concerned with the doom of the Empire as we know it," the Nord soothed.

"Of course…" Amaund fiddled with one of the crystal prisms hanging from the only two lit lamps, "We could avoid doom, an invasion—even another Interregnum—altogether. All it takes is a little…forethought."

"You've either already thought of something, or already implemented something. Which is it?" Salonia was back to fluttering her fan languidly, eyeing Amaund speculatively.

"You've already thought it yourselves," the Breton reminded her. "We need an Heir. One we could gently raise to our way of thinking. It's the Nord—Tyrlief—that is the real problem. Of course, someone like that would have a lot of enemies, even if the Elder Council continues to ignore his claims as fancy. It would be unfortunate if something were to…happen to him before he was able to substantiate his claim to the Throne."

"Keep talking," Salonia smiled sharply, "I'm listening."

"As am I." Alexia settled herself back on her cushions, her fury at Faustus momentarily forgotten. "If we must have a Nord on the throne, might as well be a civilized one."

.


.

Chapter 1

The mid-spring sun winked off the waters of Lake Ilinalta, sending up little flashes of light to dazzle the eye for a moment before clouds obscured the sun again. Spring in Skyrim was much the same—hints of sun in between long moments of cold air and dim light. Soon, the entire country would erupt into color, but for the moment the buds were furled, the grass dry and brown, the waters dark. It was easy to tell the swarm of blue butterflies was unnatural to the time of year, even if they hadn't spun into a small cyclone on the road before the only dwelling in sight, joining together until they solidified into the form of a man. Wind toyed with shoulder-length strands of hair that quickly changed from bone-white to dark brown, glowing amber eyes dimming as they warmed, gazing at the building as a clamor of childish voices set up a din that cut through the afternoon calm.

"Me next! Me next!" Blaise threw his fishing pole down without a second thought, rushing to the familiar figure newly formed from the sparkling swarm of butterflies.

"No, me next!" Runa appeared as if by magic, though the trail of feed from where the chickens scratched in the dirt proved that particular illusion wrong.

"No fair, I saw him first!" Blaise glared at Runa with a mutinous pout.

"What exactly am I doing with who next?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow at the two children. "I thought I was going inside to see your mother."

"Butterflies!" came the immediate and emphatic stereo answer.

"Please, Papa? Just once around the lake?" Runa had been practicing her pretty please face. She'd been watching Telki, if the results were anything to go by.

Groaning, Romulus, former Champion of Cyrodiil, current Prince of Madness, and fiance to the Dragonborn (which solidified his position in the mad world, really) took in the results of her practice. "Not the lost kitty face!"

"Pleeease? Pretty please?" Runa added fluttering lashes to her pouty face.

"Uh…" he blinked, glancing at Blaise. He'd never been very good at resisting pleading females of any age, starting with his sisters and then never bothering to correct that behavior. "Compromise?"

"What sort of compromise?" Blaise gave him a hopeful look.

A stern individual appeared beside Rommy, barely batting an eye to be torn so abruptly from whatever it was he had been doing. "Oh, well done, my lord. You have summoned me. Whatever can I do for you?"

"Haskill, can you butterfly the kids around the lake while I find my Queen?"

"I am afraid that ability is solely your purview, my lord," the unflappable steward replied.

"Oh, fine," Rommy sighed, turned Haskill into a giant bird, and added a saddle to him. "Here you go," he ushered the children forward.

"Woah." Blaise looked at him interestingly. "Hey, can you turn me into a bird? Can I be a hawk? Maybe a falcon!"

"Oh, can I be a hummingbird?"

"Absolutely not! I learned my lesson when I turned you all into cheese," he cried, aghast. Haskill scratched at the ground and started trying to peck up the feed Runa had left, but his beak was too big.

"But cheese can't fly. Falcons can, and divebomb!"

"Please Papa? Just this once? We won't tell, promise." Runa widened her eyes as far as they would go, and let her chin wobble.

"No point," Rommy shook his head, glad to have a legitimate argument. "Neither of you would know how to fly."

"Awww." Blaise and Runa looked rather droopy as he put them in the saddle. "Thank you for letting us ride Haskill, though. Hey, could you give us flying lessons, sometime?" Blaise, bless him, couldn't quite let the idea go.

"Er…" wincing, Rommy resorted to the phrase that had driven his first wife up the wall, "Ask your mother." Before they could reply to that one way or the other, Haskill took off, stubby wings too small to properly hold him, so his long legs ate up the ground instead. The Mad God grinned, watching. Rather like an overgrown, long-legged chicken, actually. He might have to make a few more of those. Not of Haskill, though: He needed his steward.

Turning, he made his way around the rocky outcropping the house was built on and up the incline to the door, glancing around. He was not expecting the aerial attack from the second story deck. "Rommy! You're here!"

The ground was not soft on the path, but he laughed anyway. "Warning next time, Telki?"

"I yelled as I jumped? Not enough? Okay. Missed you. Been a long week without you." She nuzzled into his chest. She'd missed his sconey smelling self.

"Yell before jumping, next time," he advised, giving her a little squeeze. "I almost thought someone was throwing a fish at me again."

"Blaise and Alesan? I thought we broke them of that habit after making them clean all the fish that last time." She shuddered at the memory. They were days getting all the scales out of their hair and clothes.

"Actually, someone insulted the Duchess. She declared war. It was…very fragrant," he informed her, wrinkling his nose. "Things have been better since I turned all the swordfish into salmon, but it still stunk so badly your flowers couldn't even drown it out."

"My poor love. The things you have to endure." Telki patted and smoothed his hair in sympathy.

"Oh, you might find this interesting. I had a new Khajiit in Passwall," he said.

"You do? Who?" She sat up.

"Her name was Dahini. She'd actually come to see me. Mostly sane, so I had to send her back, but she claims something is coming our way. Something that will change Tamriel for centuries to come." He looked up into the sky, contemplating that for a moment, but the ground was cold and Telki laying on top of him still was very distracting.

"She couldn't say what? Or how to prepare for it, or stop it? Could she even say who sent her? How did she know?"

Shrugging, he replied, "She has Sight, like you, only instead of auras, she Sees the future. I advised her to go seek out the Moth Priests, if you wanted to find her. I think her visions are pretty vague, though. Three things come at the same time, then something about two dragons, then white marble or something? I don't know; I was doing the fishstick."

"That's my Rommy, got all his priorities in order." Telki lovingly smoothed down his hair, then kissed him for all she was worth. "Come inside and have some cider, Murril will be so glad to see you. She's even started venturing out in the yard some."

"Really?" he asked, surprised and relieved. "That's great! She doesn't even like leaving the Palace at New Sheoth without me, so that's a good step."

"Well, she stuck to Lucia and Francois like a shadow, but it's a start, isn't it?" Telki was feeling a little smug. "Come on, already. You might even surprise her into a squeal." It took both hands and her low center of gravity, but she pulled Rommy vertical and ushered him inside.

"Muuur-ril! Someone's here to see you!" Telki sang, even as she pulled out a pitcher of cider from cool storage for Rommy. The sound of pattering feet could be heard descending from the library tower's second story moments before a blur of yellow and cream attached itself to Rommy's side like a burr.

"And how's the youngest member of my Court?" Rommy asked the small Altmer girl, who looked up at him and grinned, then hid her face against his side. "She's been good, I hope? No rubbing soup into your hair again?"

"As good as gold and sweeter than honey." Telki winked at the young girl, getting down cups enough for everyone. "Would you like to join us for some cider, Murril?"

The girl nodded, then proceeded to make it difficult for Rommy to move until he finally gave up, shrank her, and put her in his breast pocket, where she peeped out the top, apparently quite content to stay right there.

Telki looked askance at the two, then shrugged. Murril was content, so why should she object? "Don't forget to change her back later. All I need is to worry about her literally getting underfoot," she eyed her cups dubiously. "And what in tarnation am I going to put her cider in now?"

"A thimble?" he suggested, helping her by pulling out some napkins. "Did you want me to make something to go with this? I see all the stuff I baked last time is long gone."

"A week, Rom. You were gone a week! Of course all the nummies are gone. They barely lasted two days." The man's baking was sinfully delicious. "How about just shrinking her cup to fit? Thimbles don't really keep well around here. They tend to wind up helmets for toys or used as parts for tinkering."

"I can do that," he glanced down at his shirt, where the little elf looked back up at him with big eyes. "Sure you don't want to join us normal size?" In response, she sank down into his pocket. He gave Telki a helpless look.

"What can I say? She's a Daddy's Girl." Telki let the smile blossom.

"I'm not—" he glaced at her, startled, and his pocket rustled.

"Ask her," Telki prodded.

"Romulus! Didn't expect you back so soon." Gideon came in through the back door, looking rather grubby. The wood chips sticking to his sweaty skin announced to all and sundry what he'd been doing. "Telki, we're nearly done with the wood, just the bathhouse and the greenhouse to go." She gave him a grateful kiss and hug, wrinkling her nose just a bit. Hard work was fragrant work.

"I'd have been back sooner, if there wasn't another fish war," he grumbled, then glanced the other man over. "How's your Guilty Initiate?" Rommy never could remember the boy's name, and didn't really bother to try. The lower member of Gideon's Order had helped the Paladin's girlfriend run off, and while he sympathized, he thought the kid should have at least asked a question or twelve before making the assumptions he had, let alone acting upon them so drastically.

"Haffod is coming along. Telki was not gentle the first day, then the dragon attacked, and that really made things interesting. Right now? He's putting away all the wood I cut."

"The offer still stands to turn him into a donkey," Rommy reminded him, going over to one pantry and pulling out flour.

"Now now, Rommy. The boy does a good enough job making an ass of himself. He needs no help." Telki still hadn't forgiven him. She had no problem giving him all the dirtiest jobs, including swamping out the septic tank. If he hadn't been introduced to the concept of "godly toil" in the Order, he was certainly getting acquainted with it now.

"Any word from Shell?" he asked, glancing back at Gideon. He knew the decreasing amount of letters had to be bothering the man; he'd be bothered. Murril popped out of his pocket long enough to steal a snowberry as he arranged the various bowls of fruit.

"Aye, a short one. Apparently, she has no love for either falmer or ghostly cliffracers. I shudder to think who introduced her to the latter, and how." Gideon's face pinked, "And apparently, she met another of my Order. Shor alone knows who, with what she hinted of the stories he shared." He laughed, "And she got an invitation to join our Order."

Eyebrows flinging themselves skywards, Rommy gave a short laugh, "An elf in the Order of Shor: How did she manage that?"

"The member was one of the Old Knights in his cups. He thought her fox coloring was a sign, especially after she gave his squire a nosebleed just by flirting."

Wiping flour off his hands, Rommy turned to consider Gideon. "How widespread is your Order? If I didn't know better, I'd say it sounds like she's back in Skyrim, or at least just over the Morrowind border."

"I didn't want to get my hopes up," Gideon admitted. "The majority of our temples and holdings are in Skyrim, but enough of us are bit by the wanderbug to spread word of Shor across Tamriel. One of my teachers spent twenty years wandering around Hammerfell before returning to Shor's Keep."

"Is Sam talking, or is he too busy trying to play nice for Merc?" Rommy asked, returning to his baking, slender fingers moving at twice the speed of a mortal's as he arranged ingredients by sight. He'd given up using recipes over a century earlier. There came a point it was stupid to pretend he was anything other than what he was, even to himself.

"He's not telling where she is, the infuriating thing," Telki humphed, setting a cold mug of cider at Rommy's elbow. "Drink up, you. It's bound to have been a dry flight here, and there you go getting elbow deep in dough first."

He gave her a mock-severe look. "You said the kids have been deprived of sweets practically since I left: How could I let such a thing continue?"

"Drink. First." Telki poked each word in his chest. "The only reason they're 'deprived' is because they went through the whole batch like a swarm of Sam's pirates. You can drink a bloomin' mug of cider first. I promise you, they won't keel over from deprivation in the meantime."

Taking a dutiful swallow of cider, Rommy grinned, kissed her, and went right back to what he was doing. He could drink while working, after all. There was a slight giggle from his chest area, then Murril poking her head out long enough to look around, point to the snowberries, and pop back in. He adjusted the ingredient amounts to make snowberry crostatas first, then took another swallow of cider. Telki was right; it had been a dry trip.

The door crashed open, letting in the sounds of drunken singing and snoring, and some fighting. Sanguine walked through, carrying Merc bridal style, a rueful smirk on his face as he kicked the door shut behind him.

"And speak of the Daedra. Sam, why is Merc unconscious?"

"Well, he'd never had Cyrodiilic—hic!—homebrew before. Backwoods stuff. Had to literally beat one of the women off him with a—hic!—stick. My Muffin is mine," he said firmly.

"Ahem, remember, there are people you have to share with. But yes, thank you for protecting him." Telki ran a worried eye over Mercutio, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, rather than blackout drunk or drugged.

"I will—hic!—share him with you whenever you want, Sis. Just say the—hic!—word! Hic! Hic! I love thish stuff!" he crowed, sitting right down on the floor and cuddling Merc to him happily, being careful of his horns.

"Oh? Does my supermead now have competition for your attention?"

"Nope," Sam giggled.

"Sam," Rommy said, giving the other Prince an arch look, "Did you just suggest a threesome to my fiance? Because I told you how I felt about that."

"I am willing to include you any time you—hic!—ask," Sam reminded him, falling over backwards. "Treenord! Hello!" he added, finding himself looking up Gideon's legs when his head nearly landed on the man's feet. "You can join—hic!—too. More the merrier!"

Gideon shook his head at Sam's antics. "How you can suggest such things, and come across like a kid asking for playtime astounds me."

"I am asking for playtime," Sam reminded him, reaching up the hand that wasn't cuddling Merc to caress Gideon's calf. "You're sweaty," he said approvingly.

"That happens when you've been chopping wood." Gideon gently removed his leg from Sam's grip. "I'd suggest you try it sometime, but drinking and sharp objects do not mix well."

"I can use a greatsword. And I have a great sword. I can show you," Sam pawed at the air in the general direction of Gideon, trying to find his leg again.

Telki laughed, "Save your greatsword for Merc, when you two are ready. When both of you are ready, Sam." She knew better than to give Sam wiggle room. She needn't have worried; Sam had fallen asleep.

"Is it safe to move him, or would we be in danger of the infamous octogrip?" Telki studied them. That couldn't be comfortable.

Rommy regarded them for a few seconds before shrinking them both as he had Murril, rolling them onto a lettuce leaf, and putting it on the counter. Murril hopped out of his pocket and tucked them under a dishrag before stealing a blueberry and hopping onto Rommy's hand, holding to his thumb until she could jump back into his pocket.

Telki giggled, she couldn't help it. "Don't let the Cabbage lady get wind of this." Rommy shuddered, then smiled. More and more, this place was becoming a second home.

.


.

Ama looked over the map and tilted her head, white hair falling across her forehead into blue eyes, and tried turning it upside down. It didn't help. "Remind me to steal Belethor blind next time we're in Whiterun. This map makes no sense." Ama's tail twitched in irritation.

"Well, I didn't trust the map Atahbah offered. That one dealt in skooma, no matter what she professed otherwise," Nala sniffed.

Wemie shook her golden head at the pair of white-striped Dagi-Raht. "The coin was good, though, getting her here. Pity she was headed to Solitude. Caravan headed for Helgen would have dropped us on Telki's doorstep, but with Helgen gone…" she shrugged.

"Yeah, and can you believe the tales around that?" Ama shivered. "I think the Imperials were just trying to cover a major setback. I mean, dragons? That bard back at the Bannered Mare wouldn't shut up about them." They couldn't get out of Whiterun fast enough to suit her. She detested that Mikael character. She refused to be another notch on his bedpost; she had more respect for herself, thank you. She hoped he enjoyed the nettle present she tucked down his trousers. She couldn't think of a more deserving fellow.

"Mmmm, nope. Dragons are real. Too many people seen 'em, too many dragon scales and dragon bones for proof. That one you'll have to believe whether you like it or not." Nala, casually tossing a small firebolt between her fingers, looked over her twin's shoulder. "Have you tried turning it on its side?"

"Yes, no, maybe?" Ama turned it sideways. "Nope, still confusing." She dropped her map a bit, giving Nala a weird look. "Wait, you mean she really used dragon bone to make my daggers? I'm throwing dead dragons around? Neat!"

"We can't possibly be that lost. Surely if we follow this road south, we'll either find it, or someone that knows it. A lake is a fairly hard landmark to miss." Wemie shook her massive golden mane behind her, and tied it up with a leather thong. Being born Ohmes-Raht made her taller and stronger than her sisters. The fact she was born first made her overly bossy and protective on top of that.

"This is our baby sister we're talking about, remember? It wouldn't surprise me at all if that house is on the bottom of the lake," Ama huffed, finally balling the map up in frustration, and stuffing it back in her satchel.

"Or perched in a tree. She'd do it, don't try to tell me otherwise," added Nala, her little firebolt now doing loops between her palms.

"Yes, but can we try normal means, first? Surely someone somewhere around here can lead us there? I knew we should have asked in Riverwood, but no, someone swore she knew how to read a map!" Wemie shook a finger at Ama.

"I can read a map! Just not one drawn by a five year old on a sugar high!" Ama bridled. "At least we're close, not like when you had us in Hammerfell, circling for days."

"That was the compass, remember? There was a lodestone outcrop, not Wemie's fault, and not a map," Nala reminded them. "Can I see it?"

A small figure darted out onto the road, looking for a place to hide. Lucia had wanted her to hide, but as a game, rather than her usual habit, and Daddy had smiled so she'd done it. It might be a bit far from the house, but Murril knew that all the other kids knew all the good hiding places there, so she'd run further off. It was scary, but they had been nice enough to cast Courage on her when she'd hidden under the bed this morning, and had reapplied it every time she started to get nervous. So far, it had worked pretty well.

"Oh! Hello there! Can you help us? We're looking for our sister's house. Her name is Telki? Have you heard of her?" Ama squatted down to be on level with the pretty little girl, privately wondering what a wee Altmer baby was doing out here: They were rarer than a Dunmer's smile. Nala behind her was making the usual dawww noises, while Wemie was putting her sword back in its sheath.

Murril stared at her, then tilted her head, oversized ears twitching. Queen Telki—Chief Madman Swaddler, she corrected herself—had sisters? Murril had had a sister once. That was a bad direction for thoughts. She steered them away like Daddy had been showing her. Her eyes focused on the pretty Khajiit again. She couldn't answer, even the Courage spell couldn't make her answer.

"Little one, are you alone? Is there someone with you?" Wemie didn't like the idea of the little girl by herself out here. "Either we can help you back to Riverwood, if you need it, or we can wait here while you go get an adult?"

Murril thought about this, shook her head to the first question, nodded to the second, then ran back to the house. An Adult. Not Sanguine, then. Merc was with Sanguine, so he was probably Not An Adult for this purpose, right? Lydia was an Adult, but Lydia was scary and Human, so she wouldn't grab Lydia. Gideon was nice, but everyone called him Treenord, so could he go from where he was rooted? Daddy was a good choice. Telki was…was Telki an Adult for this? Erandur was probably best choice, but sometimes Erandur was talking to his God-Lady, and his ears sparkled, and he was Not To Be Interrupted.

The first person she ran into was Blaise, and now she was It. It was not Adult, and Blaise was not Adult, but Blaise was the first person she saw, and would probably know who to bring, right? Grabbing Blaise's hand, she started dragging him back toward the road.

"Murril, hey Murril, where are you taking me…why are you taking me? Oh, hello." Suddenly, Blaise knew why Murril had dragged him out in the road. There were three cat ladies, one fussing at the other one. She stopped midrant when she saw the kids.

"Oh, hello to you, too. Um, do you know where Telki lives?" Nala put her firebolt out, not caring for how greedily the little boy's eyes followed it, and adjusted her red mage robes.

"Uh, yeah? Why?" Blaise regarded the strange ladies with wary curiosity.

"We've been lost on the road for days now. Are we near there?" Wemie explained patiently.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose, but I'm not really supposed to bring strangers to the house." Blaise moved Murril protectively behind him, and started edging back towards the house.

"Oh, we're not strangers, we're her sisters!" Nala was quick to correct him.

That stopped Blaise cold. "Mom has sisters?"

"MOM?"

.


.

"Mom! Hey Momma! There's someone here to see you!"

"Blaise, what are you talking about? I wasn't expecting…" Telki's words died in her throat as she came out into the dining room to see her three sisters standing there. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting this."

"Surprise?" Ama looked somewhat sheepish. They all took their time drinking each other in a moment. The sisters had been on the road together for some time, and moved like a well practiced unit. Each of them grown and hardened on the road, they'd admit it, but somehow, they still expected to find their baby sister unchanged. It was somewhat shocking to realize she'd grown and changed as much as they had.

Oh, her eyes were just as bright as always, and her smile just as sunny, but there were shadows of the things she'd seen, and the things she'd done. She'd always been fit and held herself well, but like the peaks of Skyrim, her time here had honed that posture and physique razor sharp. She wasn't the baby sister they remembered, not quite. It startled them, and they all tried to cover it as they came to terms with it.

Wemie surveyed the house with approval, taking in the sturdy construction and defensible nature of the place. Nala nosed closer to the nearest stack of books, eyebrows rising at some of the rare titles and eclectic subject matters. Ama almost involuntarily did a quick audit of her sister's house, and came up with a worth to shame a jarl. Holy hep cats, but Sis had done well for herself. It didn't help with the footing problem, just set her poor mind further agog. Wemie and Nala were in similar predicaments.

Telki squealed, her face lighting up, and barreled into the middle of her sisters, fiercely hugging them by turns; they returned the hugs with fervor. For a moment, it was as if all the years separated had never happened. They were back home after a summer visit with the Grands.

"Mara save us, there's more of them." Erandur watched the hugfest with mock horror. Really, how had Nirn survived all this time with more than one Telki loose upon it?

Rommy merely shook his head as he emerged from the kitchen, picking Murril up when she tugged on his sleeve and leaning against the wall with her, simply watching. It was actually kind of sad, when he contrasted this exuberance to his reception with his own siblings. He'd been thinking of them a lot lately. He banished the thought, and Murril cuddled up to him, eyeing the strangers with wary curiosity. Leaning over slightly to Erandur, he muttered, "So…how much do you know about them?" She certainly hadn't warned him they were coming.

"Honestly? Not much. Telki guards her past with silence, since she can't bring herself to outright lie," Erandur shrugged. A lot of little clues over the years were starting to make sense, seeing her interact with her sisters. "She tends to view them as vulnerable, especially given how she walks roughshod over enemies, up to and including Daedra. I only knew she had family, and that she meant to keep them safe."

"So…the fact that she came into this world as part of a three piece set didn't seem worth mentioning?" he asked, shrinking Murril as her nerves shot up and sticking her in his pocket.

"I don't think it was so much a case of 'worth mentioning' as it was protecting." Erandur studied the very guilty looks Telki was tossing Her Boys, along with the very calculating looks Wemie was giving Telki and the men. Erandur couldn't help himself, he waved his ringed hand, wiggling the fingers at her. He grinned at the widened eyes and knowing nod.

"So, little Sis, got something you need to tell us?" Telki winced at the tone. It was the same one Wemie would use when she took the last slice of bread and didn't tell anyone.

"Um, well, how long you staying? This could take a while."

"Start now, and start with why you and that Dunmer are wearing matching rings." Wemie was rather overwhelmed, the only reason her voice wasn't screeching or hysterical. No, when she got overwhelmed, she got quieter, stiller and more stonelike.

"Telki! You got married?" Ama was breathless with excitement. "Details, all the details." Ama pulled her over to the breakfast bench and sat her down, Telki still looking worriedly over her shoulder at Wemie. How was she gonna fix that?

Rommy slid down against the wall. "Blaise," he whispered to the boy, "butter up your new aunts by bringing them that plate of snowberry tarts I just made?" He briefly considered putting Charm spells on the bunch to make the newcomers more receptive, then decided against it. He'd suggest it to Telki later if she looked like she needed the help, but she probably wouldn't appreciate him doing it unasked.

"Sure thing, Papa." He gave Rommy a sly look, "Can I help myself to some of the jazbay ones?"

"When they get out of the oven, the biggest has your name on it," he replied with a wink.

"Thanks, Papa!" Blaise left in a hurry to get the plate, drawing stares with his haste. His newest papa put on an innocent look, interlacing his fingers over his knee.

Wemie studied him, not fooled for a minute. "Alright, he called Telki 'mom' and you 'papa,' where's your ring, then?" Baby sister was poly? It was and wasn't surprising at the same time.

"I don't have one yet," he replied, eyes twinkling playfully. They were glowing softly, his Sheo a little closer to the surface with amusement. Luckily, they simply seemed a very bright gold at the moment, and didn't actually give off light. That would probably be more explaining than anyone wanted to do today.

"Which reminds me, think y'all can get Mom here for the wedding?" Telki winced as another peal of squeals went off, all of her sisters talking over each other, all demanding answers, at turns excited, confused, and hurt. She hadn't been looking forward to this, but the time where ignorance was protection was probably well past.

Eyes narrowed as he watched them, Rommy glanced up at Erandur to see if he was picking up the signs of stress that he was. Telki's ears were laid back, though she seemed to be trying to keep them up, and her puffed tail was tucked under her legs, twitching now and again. Her shoulders were high, and her face tense and slightly drawn. Erandur's mouth turned down, and his eyes pinched as he saw it too.

Enough was enough; he hadn't put up with his family making him miserable, and he wasn't about to let hers make her unhappy, either. Abruptly, all the noise in the room stopped, though for a moment mouths were still moving. "Please keep it down," Rommy requested, his closed fist shining green with the Silence spell, "You'll wake up Sam and Merc." It was as good an excuse as any: If there was any situation that he didn't want Sanguine walking in on, it was this one.

All three pairs of eyes widened in awe, Nala studying his hand intently. She pointed at the fist, then Romulus, and then a thumb firmly back at herself.

He released the spell, smiling slightly at them. "I can write it down for you later," he said. Old Cyrodiilic custom was that if you read a spell tome, you created another one before a year was up. He had no idea if it were still in practice, but it was only polite.

"Thank you. That will be a very useful spell the next family reunion. Too many cousins." Nala shuddered delicately.

"Anybody care for some pastries? They're still hot!" Blaise carried in a big tray filled with snowberry tarts, a dish towel protecting his hands under it.

Murril wiggled in his pocket, wanting out to have a treat. Rommy put his hand over the pocket lightly. "I'll go see if the others got woken up," he said, standing. Last thing they needed was Sam walking down in Dremora form. He moved quickly around the stairs and up to the bedrooms where they had carefully carried the pair. He hadn't been able to get them off the leaf to make big again without waking them, so there was now a giant cabbage leaf covering one of the beds. Which would also be difficult to explain, now that he thought about it.

He pulled Murril out and made her her normal size. She beamed up at him, letting go of his fingers before running over to the door to examine the goings on from a safe place. Rommy smiled slightly before glancing the sleeping pair over, then layering an illusion of Sanguine's Breton form over them in case Telki's sisters were inclined to wander. Then he popped himself outside to the woodpile. "Gideon," he said, startling Guilty Initiate.

"Aye Rom, 'tis it?" Gideon rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. He'd been intending to take a bath, then sit Haffod down for meditation in case the boy ever unlocked the ability to Shout their Order was known for, but then Telki had reminded him the forge would need more wood, and so would the boiler, and could he please make sure the oven for the greenhouse was stocked, too? Woman could denude a forest by herself.

"Our sisters-in-law just showed up en masse," he explained without preamble.

"We have sisters-in-law?" Gideon turned to Rommy, wood cutting forgotten.

"One elder sister with sharp eyes, and did you know Telki was a triplet?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Is that a litter, or is that racist?"

"She rarely to never talks about her life before coming to Skyrim, and I have no idea," Gideon shrugged. He'd be lying if he said her keeping things like that from him didn't hurt.

"I can understand that. There are a lot of people who want her dead or would try to influence her. I…I sort of knew she had family, but she never actually told me," he said, recalling the memories she had shared. "I saw them in her mind."

Tilting his head, he examined Gideon's expression. Actually being inside the man's head while he was undercover in Alinor had given him a bit more insight to his thoughts. "I wouldn't let it bother me too much, if I were you. Merc doesn't talk about his family, either. Sometimes, it just doesn't come up, and sometimes, there are reasons not to bring it up."

"And still knowing all that doesn't keep it from smarting a bit." Gideon allowed himself a long drawn out sigh, trying to relax all the tense muscles again. "It makes sense, especially given the way she doesn't back down from anything. Her family is bound to be an easier target than she is, but still, it makes me feel like I'm not important enough to her."

Rommy thought for a long minute, looking down. "I…really have no idea if I should tell you this or let her do it, but…Gideon, her family wasn't the only thing I saw in her head. You matter to her, maybe more than you'll ever know."

Gideon bowed his head, and let that sink in. "Thank you. It does help, hearing it from you."

"What can I say?" he shifted, uncomfortable, "I have to keep you all sane, right?" He didn't want to get into how Gideon's sensitivity reminded him of his sister, and he'd become oddly protective of him because of it. She'd had a heart that bruised so easily, as his did. Now he was very uncomfortable. "So, want to meet them?"

Gideon chuckled, allowing Rommy to shift the mood. "What? Afraid we'd take over? New Geoth has a ring to it."

"As much as I would love to watch you in one of the Insulting Fish Wars…" Rommy grinned. "Want me to de-stench you, or do you want to meet them all sweaty and shirtless and probably looking like something out of a cheap Breton romance novel?"

"I would not mind smelling fresher." Gideon wrinkled his nose, "Right now, my own nose wants to be elsewhere."

Amused, he removed all trace of Gideon's activities—the Guilty Initiate was staring again, and he was really starting to get this itching urge to pluck out his eyeballs—and produced a comb, handing it over. "Want a shirt, or are you still going for Breton romance novel? At the very least, it might give Telki ten seconds free from questions."

Gideon blushed, but straightened up. "Do you know? I think I will go for the Breton Romance bit. It made an impression on Shell, after all." He gave Rommy a wicked grin. "I gather that doesn't happen often."

Laughing heartily, Rommy headed back towards the house, pointing at the Guilty Initiate as he passed. "Stop staring at me."

The poor boy yelped, and began picking up the stack of firewood he just dropped, scurrying off towards the back of the greenhouse the moment he had the last stick in hand. The Mad God snorted and forced his eyes to dim. "He would make a decent scamp, were he only not affiliated."

"Rommy, no scamping the poor, very sorry he ever interfered initiate." Gideon tried for a firm voice, but the underlying humor colored every word.

Whatever he muttered under his breath sounded very irritated and like it might involve painful games of ball. He stopped when he opened the door, motioning for Gideon to proceed him. With any luck, they'd be so distracted by Gideon's pectorals they would forget he went upstairs only to walk in the front door. Maybe they'd give Telki a chance to breathe, too. That'd be nice.

Three pairs of eyes widened appreciatively when Gideon walked in, barechested, hair flowing, and wearing a matching ring to both Telki and Erandur. For a moment, they could only stare, everything they had been about to ask flying right out of their minds in the face of that much male perfection on display.

"Telkiii, you has some 'splainin' to dooo," Ama poked her sister in the shoulder. "And it better include all the juicy details."

"But, um, start with the part where I can find one of those for myself." Wemie really, really liked what she saw.

The blush started high on his cheeks, but spread slowly to encompass ears, forehead, and a large swathe of that magnificent chest, before getting lost in the equally epic chest fuzz. Rommy snickered, moving silently around the perimeter of the room to the kitchen. His plan had worked to perfection, and he had jazbay tarts to pull from the oven.

Murril crept down the stairs, watching the exuberant strangers with wide eyes before hurrying over to Telki and cuddling up to her, not liking all the noise and tension. Telki quickly pulled Murril into her lap, and cuddled the little girl close. Rommy was back out like a shot at the feel of her distress in his mind, handing her a tart and levitating one over to Blaise without really thinking about it, settling next to Telki so Murril could cuddle both of them.

"So, you taking apprentices? Because I really want to be your apprentice. Yesterday, if it were possible." Nala watched his easy use of magic—the kind of ease only developed after decades of study—with a mixture of awe and envy. His age spells must be killer if he still looked this young.

"Uh," Rommy flushed. "Not really." That took Nala back a bit. What grandmaster mage didn't want an apprentice for the grunt work?

"Will you still show me some of your spells anyway?" Rabid persistence was a cherished family trait.

He glanced at his fiance. "You're all like this, aren't you?"

Telki, relieved and trying not to laugh, finally choked out an answer. "I'm admitting to nothing."

"Uh-huh," Rommy said agreeably, then went for instant revenge. "Why don't you ask Telki? She knows quite a bit, being Arch Mage and all."

"Whaaat? Seriously, Telki. You disappear, never send word, never write, and then have all the adventures! No. Fair. " Ama folded her arms and huffed. "Maybe I shoulda helped that Brynjolf bloke. Maybe I'd at least have a little adventure to share."

"Oh dear, did Brynjolf meet all of you?" Telki winced. She would have to take Riften off her list of places she could visit. The smirk alone would be unbearable.

"Eh, wasn't impressed, myself. Too…smarmy," Wemie shuddered delicately.

"Who called?" a voice echoed down from the bedroom, groggily. The Ohmes-Raht's head whipped around, eyes narrowing.

Before anyone could respond, a knock came at the door. Murril had just about had it with people and dove under the table. Rommy slid right down on the floor with her to try to coax her out.

"Telki, were we expecting anyone else?"

"Honey, I wasn't expecting anyone today." Telki pulled her bow out of the corner, even as Gideon called his hammer to his hand, the Artifact streaking down from their room like a mini comet.

"I never heard of danger knocking on the door, but with our luck? Not taking chances." Gideon made his way to the door.

"Telki, honey, what have you been doing?" Ama, apparently, was the only one of the sisters that could put two words together. Wemie was still squinting from the hammer's flight, and Nala was goggling Telki's bow.

"Um, a lot? I've helped a lot of people, and made a lot of dangerous enemies doing it. One reason I didn't write home. Didn't want anyone finding you guys." Telki gave them her best 'whoopsie' smile.

Wemie sighed, and loosened the sword on her back. "Never half measures with you, is it?" she pointed a sharp fingernail at Telki. "And you will tell me everything you've done since you left home. Everything. No more sidestepping, no more hiding." Wemie nodded towards Sam upstairs, "Including why you let a Sanguinist in the house with children."

"That's my fault," Rommy called from under the table. "He's sort of my brother. Does your entire family have Sight?"

"Rommy, I didn't know I had Sight until you told me," Telki huffed, then nodded to Gideon.

"Who's there?" he called.

"Friend Gideon!" a cheerful, sort of worried voice called through the door. "Is the Grand Champion there? I can't find him!"

"Fanny!" Gideon opened the door to let the little frizzlehaired Bosmer in. "It seems everyone is visiting today. He's under the table."

Rommy's Adoring Fan stopped dead at the sight of all the people, round face going blank in surprise before bouncing in place. "Oh! By Azura, by Azura! There are so many kitty ladies!"

"He's adorable! I want one!" Ama cooed.

Fanny blushed, the color clashing horribly with his pointy yellow hair. "Oh, by Azura! You are quite pretty, kitty lady, but I belong to the Grand Champion."

"Who is annoyed. He just left. What's wrong now?" Rommy asked, peering over the table with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, by Azura!" Fanny winced. "We've looked all over. Goldie looked and Plumwickle looked and we even asked Duke Cicero."

"Fanny, stop. Why were you looking?" Telki interrupted.

"We can't find Murril!" he cried, and shattered into potatoes. They rolled, wailing, across the floor. Wemie leapt out of the way as one rolled toward her feet.

"She's here, sweetie. Did Rommy forget to tell you?" Telki sighed, reaching out without looking for the sack Erandur was already handing her, embroidered with Fanny's name one bored evening.

"I did tell him," Rommy sighed, leaning his forehead on the table. "I even left a note with Haskill. Who is a bird. Nevermind." With a little mental twist, he changed Haskill back into Haskill, feeling him depart promptly for the Isles. He did not want to know why his steward had been building a nest. Except for the part of him that did.

"Honey, why is Haskill a bird?"

Rommy glanced back up at her, then down at Murril, who looked rather like she was expecting an earthquake, and back at Telki. "Can it wait?" He was getting some interesting emanations from her sisters, as well. It was nice to know Telki was even able to throw off her family.

Telki sighed, "I suppose so. Fanny, who all do you have looking for Murril?" She wondered how much hassle it was going to be to calm all the alarms. If Rommy had to leave again just after he got here, she would be more than a little irate. It was her turn, dast it!

"Oh, everyone. The Girls and Stanley made a search party and Cabbage Lady was wailing about it, and the Duke was very concerned that she not be left alone, all alone, alone and in the dark, and the Duchess even offered to look. I was worried about that, but after the last talk the Grand Champion gave her, I don't think she'd do anything…well…Oh, by Azura."

Telki gave a deep heartfelt sigh. "I don't suppose sending Goldie around with an 'alls well' will do it, will it?" Dang it, she was not going to cry, she was not going to cry!

Rommy had finally gotten Murril out by reminding her that it was her job to guard Fanny when he was potatoes, and she hesitantly ran over to Erandur to hide behind him with the bag. Rommy instantly pulled Telki to him, giving her a lingering kiss and to Oblivion with who was watching. "I should probably take her home anyway," he muttered. "I'll be back tonight if I can, tomorrow if I can't."

"Heart's promise?"

"If I have to cheese them all, I will," he teased. "The concept of time out is so useful."

"Hurry back to me. I'm a little worried Cicero might've had another episode, from the sound of it."

"He still has your blanket from last time. I think he sleeps with it, actually," he said, pulling her back for a kiss. After a long moment he pulled away, smiling ruefully down at her. "Love you," he whispered, then beckoned to Murril, who launched herself at his side to cling like cat hair.

"Love you, too. Hurry back, you." Telki bent down and kissed Murril's forehead. "Take care, you. Love you, too." Murril held up a single potato for Telki to kiss, too, which she did. "Take care, and love you, too."

"By Azura!"

"Ladies, it was lovely to meet you," Rommy said, giving his future sisters-in-law a court bow, just to be a pest. Then he lifted Murril and headed out the door.

"Nala, make a batch of the good hot chocolate. Telki's got some tales to be sharing." Wemie folded her arms and gave Telki a stern look, "All of them, starting now."