Power Corrupts: Unexpected Conflicts (ch. 47) (Patreon)

"I had hoped that I would never see my home in such a dreadful state," Jarl Igmund muttered as we stepped through the city gates. The crowd had moved from the plaza to somewhere else in the city, but I still heard music and laughing. They left behind the dead drunk, and possibly flat out dead, empty kegs, half eaten food, and clothes. A lot of them. Judging by the amount, I seem to have missed a rather large orgy.

Right.

"Did they even notice my absence?" He muttered while his wife pressed against him for comfort, but it wasn't clear who was comforting who. And I didn't have the heart to tell him that they had no clue he was gone.

"How did this mess even start?" I asked as I turned my attention to the gates. I grabbed one door and started pushing to close them. The Forsworn were on their way. They might not be mobilizing yet, but they would be soon enough. I had inventoried the bodies, but Babette was a messy eater, so they could find the evidence of the battle. Or one of the prisoners that had escaped could tell the Forsworn. Or the King in Rags misses his deadline and they assume the worst.

No matter what, they would find out. It was just a question of how much time we had.

This was so not what I signed up for.

"Dibella took residence in this city some weeks ago," Jarl Igmund started with a tired sigh, my lack of an answer to his question was answer enough. "At first, I thought it was a blessing. A Divine walking the planet, living in my city… I was honored."

I grabbed a massive and thick plank to barricade the doors. "But?"

"But about a week ago, we had a… disagreement. We had an understanding of sorts, or I at least thought we did. She lived in her temple surrounded by her worshipers, while I remained in the keep. But, my citizens began to go to her for leadership. Like children, if I said no they would go to Divine Dibella and ask her to receive a yes."

Ah. I saw that coming. If your god and your leader were in the same room, and each told you to do the opposite thing, who would you listen to? I wasn't religious, despite everything, but I couldn't imagine most people picking to obey the leader. If Hestia and the President gave me a choice of who to follow, then my answer was Hestia. But that probably didn't mean much since I wasn't sleeping with the president.

"But she… is a… short-sighted fool," Jarl Igmund muttered, visibly swallowing the much harsher words he wanted to use. "She knows nothing of governance. Worse, she doesn't care to learn. She just… lives in her temple while committing all kinds of acts of debauchery. And as she continued to give the people what they wanted, the more they chose to follow her. Within a week, my authority was gone. Few followed me out of loyalty, but… not enough. The people, the guards, everyone else…" he trailed off, another sigh escaping him and this one betrayed just how utterly exhausted he was.

I felt bad for the guy. He was the leader of this Hold, and no one even noticed when he got kidnapped. And after this… he was a Jarl in name only. The people had swept the rug from underneath him, he didn't have the strength or force to back up his authority.

We walked through the empty streets and Jarl Igmund looked at his city with mournful eyes. "Then Sanguine came. He came here with dozens of others, entire villages, all drunk and high off skooma. I thought that as a Daedric Prince and a Divine, they would despise each other. Instead, it was like throwing oil on a fire. Divine Dibella's followers joined the party that Sanguine brought to the city, and the people took that as a sign of permission. I tried to maintain order, but… you can see how well that turned out."

"The entire city dropped what it was doing, all preparation for winter, and just… lost themselves. They let go of all inhibitions because they saw the gods do the same. It's been like this for a week now and there are no signs of it slowing down," he continued, hunching over as if an incredible weight was just tossed onto his shoulders.

Yeah, I felt really bad for the guy.

Then he turned to me, "I never asked what brought you to Markarth?"

"Falkreath is suffering a major food shortage. The Orcs raided pretty much every farm in the Hold on their way to join Malacath,” I answered, trying to not kick the guy while he was down. Because it was pretty clear that they would need about as much help as Falkreath did.

Jarl Igmund just shook his head, “You would think that the gods walking Nirn would be a good thing. So far, they have only caused disaster, it seems.” He muttered bitterly to himself, but I heard him anyway. And I couldn’t exactly begrudge him for that opinion. He definitely drew the short straw, from what I’ve seen.

Though, what I was more worried about was how Hestia was going to try to blame herself for this mess. When she heard how the gods she had empowered had followed her example of walking Nirn without their powers, she was going to think that she was responsible for this. The Orcs burning villages, Markarth being a massive frat party, people dying because of it…

Hestia was going to try to blame herself. And that bothered me.

I didn’t say anything in response as I turned my attention to the sounds of the party growing closer. Which was a really worrying sign considering that we were heading towards the keep. Despite the growing noise, I heard Jarl Igmund let out an incredibly bitter sigh as we rounded a corner to see that a crowd flowed out from the keep.

My lips pressed together in a thin line as I slowed down a step and leaned down to Babette, “Find the Forsworn agents in the city and kill them.” I ordered and Babette flashed me a genuine smile as she looked up at me. It felt like I was getting a little too used to ordering people’s deaths, but it was unavoidable.

This situation wasn’t something I could just wash my hands of and call it a day. If I did, then the city would fall. A lot of people would die and Hestia would blame herself for this tragedy caused by human stupidity. Beyond that, it would weaken Skyrim further, it would tip the balances towards the Stormcloaks and someone would have to clean up the mess. Given how things have been going so far, I’m betting that person would be me.

So, the Forsworn agents in the city had to die. Every single one of them. Otherwise, we could be sabotaged more than we already were.

“Allow me to lead the way, Jarl Igmund,” I said, speeding back up as we neared the crowd that flowed out of the keep. I offered because I knew they wouldn’t get out of the way for him. He seemed to know it too because he nodded sadly and fell in step behind me with his family while Babette got lost in the crowd.

The crowd itself reeked of booze and sex. More than a couple of them didn’t have any clothes on, some danced while most fucked out in the open. The cheering masked the groans and moans of debauchery. Even still, as lost in pleasure as people were, they were quick to move out of the way when I approached. Some hands glided over my armor, an open invitation, but I just pressed forward through the crowd.

The keep was an absolute fucking wreck. The stench of sex was so strong it was almost enough to make me gag. It was filled to the absolute brim -- the stairs, the main hall, the balconies… and, as I looked up when I noticed a jet of fluid spray down, I saw that people were fucking on the chandeliers. And from the look of it, one of them had gotten a bit too rough because a chandelier was missing.

It was amazing what could change in so little time. Not the keep, but for me. Before I died, before I met Hestia and went through everything that brought me here… I had just been another fratboy. I would have loved this party. An all you can eat and fuck party? A rager that lasted days on end with no signs of slowing down?

Six months ago, this place would have been my personal heaven in all likelihood.

Now, I just felt overwhelming annoyance.

I forced my way up the steps, pushing through a wall of moaning flesh before I reached the top. There sat the two responsible. The throne that had been there previously was gone, nowhere to be found. In its place were two smaller thrones placed next to each other.

Sanguine sat naked on his, a beautiful woman in each arm -- one kissed away at his lips while another trailed kisses down his neck as she grasped at his arms and chest. A third woman was planted between his leg, her head bobbing on his cock like her life depended on it. More women laid on the steps leading up to the thrones, some of them looking like they already had a turn while others got themselves ready for theirs.

Sitting next to him was Dibella. She was as stunning as the first time I saw her, only now she seemed more radiant. A sheen of sweat covered her face, her hair was slightly frazzled, and her gaze was half-lidded. Another woman sat on the throne with her, in Dibella’s lap. A younger woman in her late teens at the oldest, stripped down and wearing an expression of utter bliss as Dibella’s fingers worked at her nipples and clit.

All around me was chaos and debauchery, completely ignorant of what was coming.

I took off my helmet and took in a slow, deep breath, letting the disgusting air fill my lungs, and my thoughts composed my feelings into a simple message.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I threw back my head and shouted the words at the top of my lungs, my words washing over the crowd of drunken fornicators. As my message was heard, there was a stunned silence as everyone seemed to flinch as one, going still like a deer in headlights as they turned to look at me.

“Ah, shit, you scared me limp!” Sanguine broke that brief silence with a laugh, the girl between his legs hesitantly removing his cock from her mouth. There was a wave of laughter at that while Dibella leaned forward, studying my face for a moment before she lit up.

“You’re Hestia’s lover!” She realized, a broad smile appearing on her face. It almost looked out of place considering the scenery, but she seemed genuinely excited to see me. “I thought it was you earlier, but I was a bit distracted.” The girl in her lap snuggled into her side and Dibella draped an arm over her, bringing her in close. “Is Hestia here? I was hoping to get some one on one girl time with her.”

Given the girl on her lap, I didn’t like that implication.

“She’s not,” I answered over the general muttering of people, and the few moans of a few that decided that a seven-foot-tall behemoth of a man shouting at them to shut up wasn’t enough to stop them from fucking. I was impressed honestly. Deep down underneath being pissed off as all hell. “I’m here to put an end to the party. It’s gone on long enough-”

Sanguine smiled a deadly smile, idly running his fingers through a woman’s hair as they cuddled into him, “No one likes a killjoy,” he warned while Dibella pouted.

“Oh, I’m not the killjoy,” I responded, looking around at the people. “The killjoys are the ten thousand Forsworn heading here to kill every single person here because you were all too drunk and horny to notice that there was a jailbreak and your Jarl was kidnapped.”

Now there was dead silence in the keep, so quiet it was as if everyone was holding their breath.

“The Jarl was kidnapped?” Dibella questioned, sounding honestly surprised by the revelation. “I thought he just left.”

“No,” Jarl Igmund said through gritted teeth as he stepped forward, "I would rather die than leave this city by choice. I would rather die than leave its citizens in your hands."

Dibella looked a little put out by that, recoiling at the venom in his tone. Sanguine simply cocked an eyebrow at that, a smile still tugging at his lips. I took in the scene -- the honest surprise in Dibella's expression, the two thrones…

"A shame that you feel that way," Sanguine remarked with a careless shrug. "But we've been managing just fine without you, so…" he trailed off with a smaller, far more pointed shrug.

"Things have gone on long enough," I interjected. "There are people fucking on the ceiling. That's a good sign to toss the towel in. You've had a good run, but enough is enough."

Sanguine looked up at the chandeliers, making everyone else do the same as the couple awkwardly waved at us. The god of debauchery laughed loudly as he clapped his hands, "So they are! Nice going!"

"But," he continued after a moment, "I can't say I care for being ordered around. Not exactly used to it." He admitted freely with a shrug. Now, there were times when I was hardly the best judge of character, but I had him pegged as he radiated smugness and confidence.

Sanguine was a guy used to being in control. He was someone used to having power. And he should, he was a Daedric Prince after all.

"I'm not here to order you around, Lord Sanguine, or you Divine Dibella," I started diplomatically. "I'm here to offer the people here two options." Amusement shone in his eyes as he gestured for me to continue.

"Option number one? You all get dressed, sober up, and you get ready for the invasion of your city willingly," I offered, my gaze sweeping over everyone around me. There was a whole lot of foot shuffling and shameful looks.

"And behind door number two?" Sanguine asked, lounging in his chair while Dibella seemed far more concerned.

"You all decide to continue to party anyway. Then I start executing people until I hit that magical number where people start taking this threat seriously," I growled out, settling my gaze on Sanguine.

"That would be murder, wouldn't it?" He asked, sounding like he actually wasn't entirely certain.

Jarl Igmund stepped in, "It would not because the executions would be sanctioned by me. He acts in my name as the Thane of Markarth." Oh, so at least some good came from this. I was the Thane of three Holds now.

"Jumping to executions seems a bit extreme," Dibella pointed out as she went to get up. The girl slid off her lap while a few of her worshipers rushed to drape a sunshine yellow silk robe over her. And it took absolutely every ounce of will that I had to not check her out.

Instead, I just shook my head, "Is it when everyone here is dead otherwise?" I questioned before I shrugged my shoulders, "Well, maybe not everyone. I did just kill their king, and I'm betting they'll want some payback for the Markarth incident some time ago, so whoever they don't kill will probably end up wishing that they had died." I didn't know if the Elder Scrolls gods had the lie detector ability that the Danmachi ones did, but regardless, Dibella seemed to believe me.

The joyous smiles and flirty looks were gone, replaced by a grim mask. At the same time, Sanguine smacked the ass of one of the women that hung off of him before standing up, revealing himself without a hint of shame.

"Sounds dangerous and life-threatening. I'm not about that life," He informed as he walked down the steps, ignoring how women grasped at him. There was a confident grin on his lips, "I'm just here for fun. The whole 'everyone is going to die' vibe you have going on really isn’t doing anything for me. So, I'm going to jump ship before the storm. Anyone that wants to come with can. I'm thinking of going to Solitude next." He continued, brushing past me without a care.

I could hear Jarl Igmud's teeth grinding next to me, "Yes. I believe that would be for the best. Markarth is not the place for soft men with weak hearts," he said, turning to face Sanguine who didn't even stop to respond to the insult. "Those that wish to join you are free to. If they would abandon Markarth now, then they are unworthy to live here in the first place." There was hate in his voice. Real hate. The kind of hate that made a man commit a grave mistake and not regret it.

Because people started following Sanguine. The women that he had been with wasted absolutely no time following him. And their utter lack of hesitance emboldened others. More people followed the Daedric Prince of Debauchery and Revelry until the keep began to empty out.

Because people were sheep. They saw which way the wind was blowing and they acted like a bag in the wind. And I couldn't blame them for it. Not really. I was pissed as hell, but I couldn't blame them. If it was a choice between an epic party or fighting for your life… well, that was a pretty easy choice for most people.

"Good riddance," Jarl Igmund muttered, thoroughly unmoved by just how empty the keep became. If I had to make a guess, more than half had left. And if I had to guess again, the half that stayed were the old, weak, children, and Forsworn spies.

I just came here for some food. What the fuck was this shit?

"We must prepare," Dibella decided, her face twisted into an angry glare aimed at the crowd's retreating back. Though, I was willing to bet that she was glaring at one man in particular. They seemed to get along pretty well until this divided them.

Jarl Igmund turned to look at Dibella, and I could see the harsh retort that weighed on his tongue. Anger burned in his eyes, glaring at her with the same hate that he directed at Sanguine. But it softened a fraction before he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. There was a difference between them -- Sanguine left and Dibella stayed.

"We must. The people will take most of the food, and we can't take it back without starting a riot," he said, looking around at those that had stayed. Or, rather, the supplies that were wasted. "So we cannot accept a siege and hope relief comes."

"What about open battle?" I asked, making the Jarl smile ruefully at me.

"We don't have the numbers anymore. You are a fine fighter, but ten thousand men…" he trailed off as he looked at me, slowly growing concerned and cautious… "Do you believe you could take on ten thousand men? At once?" He asked, sounding doubtful of the claim.

And I thought about it. Despite all my progress, I wasn't invincible. All it took was a bad matchup or a silver bullet that ignored my defenses. Like the Ebony Mail.

Ten thousand men were a lot. A whole lot. It had taken me a few hours to kill three hundred back during the War Game. By the end of it, I had been physically and emotionally exhausted. Now I was facing against over thirty times that number.

"Alone… I don't think they would be able to kill me, but I doubt I would be able to kill all of them. Eventually, they'll just run," I said, feeling a bit arrogant to say that ten thousand men would run from me. "Or they'll just wash over me like the tide so it won't matter."

Jarl Igmund was giving me an odd look, so I continued. "Between my equipment, and my abilities, I'm confident I won't lose to the Forsworn. But just because I won't lose doesn't mean that Markarth will win." I explained, frowning in thought.

For the most part, the Forsworn were just normal people. And I could kill them with utter ease. It was the Hagravens and the Briarhearts that had me worried. But, even then, I was confident that I would be able to kill them.

That wasn't the issue.

"Let us rest then reconvene later today to go over our options. By then things will have settled and we'll know what we're working with," Jarl Igmund decided. I nodded, figuring that was a good idea. We both glanced at Dibella, who nodded as well.

"My worshipers will help clean the mess we have made," she decided. At the very least, she was owning up to it.

"Then my wife and I will take our leave," Jarl Igmund decided as he led his grateful wife away. We watched them go, and that seemed to be some kind of signal for everyone else to leave as well. Some walked but most stumbled out of the keep. I hoped they would sober up soon. Though, maybe it was best that they stayed drunk until Sanguine and his followers had a decent head start.

Dibella went to the girl that still sat on the throne, utterly boneless and dead asleep. Her followers gathered up, cleaning the place like they hadn’t just spent the past week fucking nonstop. A sigh escaped me as I walked out of the keep, running a hand through my hair. I took a seat on the edge of the wall, watching the city put itself back together and people gathering up their things to leave.

“When did I become the responsible one?” I couldn’t help but wonder, unsure if I should be happy with my progress or not. A handful of months ago, I would have been pissed as fuck is some asshole wandered in and shut a party down. Now I was pissed as fuck that the party was being thrown in the first place.

I’d like to call it personal growth, but I suspected that a large part of it was the fact that I had to clean up the mess.

Because that’s what this became. An utterly massive mess.

This became a battle. A real battle. This wasn’t raiding a dungeon or even competing in a War Game. Ten thousand Forsworn, maybe more, maybe less, they were coming here to take Markarth. Take it and extract their vengeance on everyone that remained here. The people that were brave or devout enough to stay behind.

And, without meaning to, I was right in the middle of that mess. It didn’t feel real. Not really. But it certainly put things into perspective. I was in Skyrim to save the world. All of it.

I really couldn’t afford to balk at saving one city, could I?

My gaze shifted upward towards the sky. As much as I wanted to bitch about the situation, the fact remained that I was here. And I wasn’t leaving. “Have to do something or Hestia’s going to cry,” I muttered to myself, and that was just another responsibility tossed on top of the rest. However, I heard a giggle behind me and I knew who it was as her presence washed over me.

Looking over, I saw it was Dibella, who looked a little more cleaned up, but she still carried the glow of post-orgasmic bliss. “In the stories, the hero’s motivation is usually a little more profound than making sure that their lover doesn’t cry,” she said in a teasing tone as she stood next to me.

To that, I could only shrug my shoulders, “It’s a good enough reason for me.” And that just made her laugh. It was a pleasant sound with a musical quality to it. And it was little wonder that she had this entire city twisted around her little finger because I couldn’t help but want to make her laugh again.

“Hestia is lucky she has such a doting lover,” Dibella said, sounding genuinely happy about it. I looked down at her, comparing her to the Dibella who lounged on a throne as she toyed with a girl on her lap. I couldn’t say I knew her well, but she almost seemed like a different person. I guess Sanguine brought out the worst in her or something. “Lucky as a goddess and as a woman.”

“Ah, well…” I trailed off, offering a small shrug of my shoulders, unsure how to respond to that. Mostly because she was flirting with me.

Then she let out a sigh, “But I suppose this is my fault.” She admitted, and…

“Yeah, kinda,” I agreed. And judging by the look she gave me, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I don’t think you had bad intentions or anything, but you can’t deny that things spiraled out of control.” I stuck with my guns, making her sigh again, and this one seemed to deflate her.

“I suppose I can’t,” she agreed with some reluctance. Yeah, Dibella was really hoping that I would say that it wasn’t her fault. “I guess I just got too caught up in living like a mortal. It’s so different being here, experiencing it, you know? Ever since the beginning, I’ve been stuck watching. I’ve only been able to interact with a few -- my favorites, like Fjotra.”

Ah.

Dibella smiled at me as if she had read my thoughts. “Of course I used my divinity to find the cutest girls in all of Skyrim. Wouldn’t you?”

“Fair enough,” I conceded that point. She laughed again at that, and I enjoyed the sound.

“Because of Hestia, I’m here to actually touch them. Hold them. Taste them…” Dibella let out another sigh, but this one was of contentment. “But I got carried away. I’ve known of Sanguine since… forever, but it wasn’t like we could ever actually talk. I’m one of the Divines, he’s a Daedric Prince. We never had any reason to interact.”

“Then he came here, and the things he said just made sense?” She stated, though it sounded like a question. “Sanguine made me look at things in a way I never had before. And he was right, in some ways. And everything he suggested was a lot of fun, so…” Dibella trailed off with a laugh as I turned my attention back to the city.

Dibella… was a party girl. The kind that was always up to go with the flow, no matter how crazy, but if you take that party girl out of the party then it was like she was a different person.

“So, things got out of control,” I finished for her. It felt like I should scold her because this entire situation, no matter her intentions, was still partly her fault. People were going to die. No matter what way you looked at it. The best-case scenario? Only the Forsworn would die.

But Dibella was also a god.

“Just learn from this mistake, please,” I requested, knowing that was the most I could really ask. Scolding her, yelling at her, rubbing her face in this mistake so she wouldn’t repeat it was out of the cards. It would be like a run of the mill retail worker chewing out the CEO of the company -- the fact that they knew better than the CEO was irrelevant. It’s just something that you didn’t do.

Dibella offered a firm nod, and that was reassuring at least. “I will. I think I’ll leave Markarth after this. I think Jarl Igmund would be happier that way,” she added. Though, that did just mean she was going to cause trouble for another Jarl. Because this was going to happen again. Men turned to the gods before they looked towards leaders.

Except for one place.

“You could try Helgen,” I offered, making Dibella blink. “It’s not as grand as this place, but Hestia is there and I’m sure she would appreciate some friendly faces while most of the Familia is stuck running around Skyrim.” Best part of it was that Hestia already established herself, so if Dibella came then it would be a lot harder for her to subvert anyone’s authority.

And Dibella was weirdly into the idea. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree as a wide smile found its way onto her face, "That sounds wonderful! I didn't really get a chance to talk to her when she divided up her Arcanum, and Akatosh is being really strict with what we can do with it now that we're on Nirn, so I haven't been able to talk to her at all. But she seemed really kind and fun," Dibella gushed as she smiled. Then she wilted a bit, "But we should really do something about the army coming first, shouldn't we?"

I nodded, "We should, but leave that bit to me." I reassured, earning another dazzling smile.

"I will!" She agreed with a nod before offering an enthusiastic wave goodbye as she practically skipped away. I watched her go for a moment, really wondering where she was getting that good cheer from. Then I let out a small sigh.

"Hestia's definitely going to cry," I muttered mournfully as I turned my attention to the crowd gathering at the gates. They pushed the doors open with far more difficulty than I had closing them before they began to funnel out. A trickle leaving the city in a steady stream.

I blinked, a memory stirring at the sight. Back at the War Game, just after I tore Zanis apart, how the Soma Familia was forced to confront me in only one direction. Slowly, my gaze wandered over to a crowd of people looking up at me, whispering amongst themselves, and odds are at least one of them was a spy. Then my gaze shifted in the direction of the keep. Or, rather, the Dwemer ruin.

"Huh. I think I have an idea."

…

"Something happened," Farkas remarked as they walked towards Helgen, making their way around a bend. Not much more than a stone’s throw from the gate to Skyrim. Days after they had left Falkreath. And in that time, Jericho was supposed to rejoin them.

"In all likelihood, he just passed us on the road," Aela figured as they walked. It was hard to imagine anything getting the better of Jericho. They lived dangerous lives, that much was true, but when threats like Deathlords or Dragon Priests are necessary to challenge you… well, Jericho had proven just how easily he could deal with bandits and their like.

Farkas didn't sound so sure based on the grunt he let out. "Maybe," he agreed, sounding like he was doing so just to end the conversation.

"He's probably already back in Helgen. You saw how he looked at Divine Hestia. Nothing makes a man more eager to return home than a waiting woman," Aela pointed out, and that got a huff of laughter from Farkas.

"That's true," he conceded as they walked over the hill to catch their first glimpse of Helgen. It appeared mostly unchanged, except for the men working on the walls. To dismantle them. An odd choice given that they were on the cusp of civil war, but there must be a good reason for it.

"For Divine Hestia!" A man shouted as the group toiled away.

""""For Divine Hestia!"""" The group returned, dismantling the wall with almost frantic speeds. Aela and Farkas watched as brick by brick, the ancient wall was dismantled as the men let out war cries as they worked.

"What's that about?" Farkas muttered as they neared the city, the same man shouting 'for Divine Hestia' at the top of his lungs again. They approached the gate and saw signs of change.

"For the Goddess Hestia!" A woman shouted as a group of women aggressively planted trees and flowers. They returned her battle call. One of many as others were rebricking the roads, or dismantling houses, or any one of a dozen tasks.

Aela blinked as she looked around, noting the piles of building supplies scattered about. More than that, she noticed how the entire town was in a frenzy to build or dismantle everything in Helgen.

"I suppose we should ask Divine Hestia," Aela figured as she led the way through the town. It hadn't changed so much that it was a completely new place, but there were signs of work almost everywhere. It didn't take long for them to spot the Hestia Home, but it carried its own confusion.

Farkas looked down at the cheese wheel laying inside black leather and cloth. He glanced at Aela for a best guess, and she could only shrug her shoulders. A gift, maybe? Regardless, Farkas knocked on the door. Before his knuckles could hit it a second time, it swung open to reveal Divine Hestia.

A short, but shapely woman with the bluest eyes that she had ever seen, that was filled with pure joy as she looked up at them. The joy in her eyes was only matched by the smile on her face. Even without her godly nature, Aela would have little trouble believing that a woman like Hestia was a fine match for a man like Jericho.

"You're back! Is Jericho with you?" She asked, looking behind them to check for him. It would be amusing if it didn't make her heart sink.

"He's not here with you?" Aela asked, frowning as a worried expression was adopted on Hestia's face. "Falkreath… was complicated, so we decided to split up to save time. Jericho went to Markarth while we came here -- but Jericho said he would meet us on the road."

Hestia closed her eyes for a brief moment before she appeared relieved, "The blessing I gave him is still there. Jericho is okay, but he's pretty far away." She informed as she took a step back, allowing them inside. Alea stepped across the threshold to the home and saw that Hestia was not alone.

Lydia was there, predictably, but the two others were less so. One was a young-looking Bosmier that stood in attendance to an elderly looking man with silver hair and a goatee. He smiled at her and waved, taking a sip from a teacup with his pinky sticking out.

"Knowing him, he had to stay to help someone in Markarth. He'll be fine. I believe in him," Hestia decided, offering them a gentle smile as she closed the door. Then her eyes fell on her guests, "I should introduce you! This is Sheogorath and her number one fan… Number One Fan?" She trailed off while Aela blinked in confusion.

Her?

Aela looked at Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness, and saw in his place where there had been an old man with silver hair, now sat a woman. An Imperial, if Aela had to guess. Silver hair pushed back, mismatching eyes, fine features… and a slight smile on her face as if she were laughing at a joke only she could hear.

Right. Prince of Madness. Aela knew better than to ask.

"And this is Aela and Farkas -- they're good people going to join my familia, so don't you go trying to poach them, okay?"

"I would never! Or, maybe I would, but I won't. Bad manners to steal from someone when they served tea and mummy raised me right! Sort of." Sheogorath finished with a giggle.

Hestia accepted that answer, "Sheogorath here was just asking for our help."

To that, Sheogorath nodded enthusiastically, "That I was! I want what was stolen from me. My recognition! My popularity! My clout. I want to experience my popular phase again. And those dastardly Thalmor are to blame. Steal my credit for ending the Oblivion Crisis will you?! Not on my watch."

Aela and Farkas shared a look, the words sounding eerily familiar. Jericho had said something about the Thalmor stealing the credit -- Aela had figured that Jericho was just slinging mud onto the Thalmor, as all true Nords should, but that sounded like a confirmation to her.

"And I was just telling him that we will do what we can, but we aren't in a position to do anything about the Thalmor. Not to mention that we have our hands full with Alduin." Hestia responded, pouring two cups of tea before handing them to her and Farkas. It would never be less odd being served by a god.

"Hmm… dreadful. Back in my day, whenever someone asked me for help, I helped them! Oblivion Gates, picking gooseberries, committing mass assassinations, saving the Empire -- when someone asked me for help, I would immediately help them! No matter what I was doing before," Sheogorath said, still having the face of a woman but his voice was undoubtedly male.

"That just sounds like you couldn't prioritize," Hestia rebuked, sounding like that wasn't the first time she had heard that proclamation.

"Maybe so," Sheogorath conceded in the smooth voice of a woman, "but… but… the Thalmor are trying to destroy all of Mundus so they can reclaim their godhood that they lost when they became Altmer. Or something."

"What?" Hestia questioned while Aela felt like she had just been slapped in the face. The Thalmor were trying to do what?

"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Sheogorath asked, giving a wide smile before she slurped her tea.

Loudly.