The Prince's Dagger

Six: A World Of My Own

And all the way out the top.

It wouldn't be fair to say that Sheogorath and I fell, exactly. It was more like the vortex chewed up up, turned its head, and spat us out somewhere else as if we were nothing more than two disgusting pieces of food.

We tumble together into water. Ice cold slush create a stark contrast against the earlier warmth of Sheogorath's lands, but my cries of shock are drowned out by plunging into that water. As soon as I go under, frost skitters across the top like it was preparing to be capped once more with ice.

Salt water fills my mouth and stings my eyes. The abyss of the sea opens up under me, threatening to drag me into its depths. Already, the cold is numbing my skin and slowing my heart rate.

What was the alternative to swimming up? Getting killed by the madgod? No, I'd rather drown.

I'm sleepy.

Maybe a nap would be painless.

Just as I started to accept the abyss's invitation, raising my arms and no longer trying to keep myself afloat, something hooks around my abdomen and starts to pull me upward. I didn't have the energy to resist.

Next thing I know, I'm gasping for air and squeezing the sea water from my lungs. The cold in the water had been sweet and numb; the cold in the air is like a slap to the face. The wind hisses by, flurrying snow over where I lie on the ground.

"Thorne?"

"The v-v-v-v-voice of a-a Divine..."

Sheogorath leans over me. To say that I accepted the idea of death with open arms might infer that I also accepted him with open arms, but he would only be death's dealer. I close my eyes and wait, but instead of getting my intestines pulled out of my mouth like I was expecting, I'm pulled into a sitting position.

"You... You are the most stupid, idiotic, ignorant mortal I have ever met." He begins to unbutton his duotone overcoat, scowling. "And I'm the god of fools and madmen! I'm the god of idiots! And still, you! Take! The! Cake!"

I could hear every word he was saying, but the tiredness seems to have cut a wire between my mind and comprehension. I slump as he wraps his coat around me. "Sounds d-delicious..."

He grunts, pulling me to my feet before letting me lean on him. We shamble onto the shore, dripping wet and shuffling snow as we went. He's shivering. Or is that me?

We limp until we arrive at a tall, overhanging building. By then, it feels like someone has come up behind me and is shaking me violently by the shoulders. I'm not doing it on purpose, but I can't really help it. I tilt my head back and peer up at the towering building, which is an obscured gray presence in the blizzard.

I lean my head on Sheogorath's shoulder for no other season than to fend off the snowflakes hitting my face. They feel like arrows. "Winterhold," I mumble.

"We're in your realm, mortal."

"T-that...not allowed..."

I wish I had the energy to pull the words from my mind and put them on my tongue. Deadric lords aren't able to get into the mortal plane; we're protected by the Dragonfires. And it isn't like those can go out, since they aren't exactly fires anymore and they're a statue of the god Akatosh. Sheogorath shouldn't be able to step foot in Tamriel in any other way than am avatar.

But here he is, in full form.

"Many things aren't allowed, but they happen anyway. Why is this any d-different?" Did his teeth just chatter? "You've done something very, very stupid, mortal."