A Dragonborn by any other name

Meeting with Madness

Lucia walked through the night to reach Solitude, avoiding patrols and bandits on the road by moving through the underbrush. It was a long trip, but she made it in the end, just in time to witness the execution of a Nord, simply for opening a gate. Delightful. She loved Skyrim. The atmosphere was wonderful. Before she even found the 'madman' beggar she was insulted on her fashion choice, and had to skirt some Thalmor officers. She truly wasn't sure where she stood in the eyes of the Dominion right now. She was a Halfling after all. Finally she heard the familiar ravings of one touched by Sheogorath. And it sounded like she had decided to take a vacation. How wonderful.

Receiving a hipbone, how delightful, this version of her mother had an interesting sense of humour, she entered the Blue Palace, coaxing a maid to let her into the Pelagius wing. Looking around at the dusty elegance, the ragged remnants of grandeur, she twisted her lips into a forlorn smile, exploring when she was whisked away by a Daedric portal.

Returning to awareness, the half-Altmer discovered she was dressed in fine clothes of Alinor design. The dress swished around her as she moved towards the table, laden with food, in the centre of a misted clearing. There were two seated figure, one in rand, bright motley, and the other in regal regalia. She recognised the face her mother often took in this form, and cracked a wry smile at the conversation.

"Dear Pelly, do have some more tea will you?"

"I'm afraid I can't, it goes right through me."

It was at this point the Mad God noticed her, and eyes widened in recognition. After a wave of the hand to dismiss the other, who Lucia would guess had been Pelagius, she let her featured morph into those of a youthful Altmer, even growing in height.

"Lucia. It has been a long time. There are many who I expected to come wake me from my vacation, you are not one of them. What brings you to the mind of Pelagius the mad?" Smiling at having her guess confirmed, daughter gave an exaggerated curtsey to mother, Speaker to Listener, Halfling to Hero.

"You, mother, or rather, something concerning you. You have touched one of the Night Mother's own, her keeper. Cicero was lonely, and I suppose your touch probably saved him from taking his own life, but the Brotherhood needs him back. Your touch on him is making the Matron uneasy." She received a perfectly cultured, studied blank look in response, facial muscles not moving.

"The Keeper was given to my care to return when the time is right, to return when the Listener is to be chosen. After fire and blood, after I watched my Family fall once more. Whether I release him or not, the old ways will return, and soon." The elf-turned-daedra pulled a sprig of nightshade from thin air. Speaking words a mere mortal could not comprehend, she sent a question out of her own realm, and into the Void.

A dunmer materialised, red of eyes and white of hair. A youthful woman, she was smiling, though cold as death itself. Lucia felt a compulsion to drop to another curtsey. This woman was special, revered, and words slipped out between her lips like a breath, a prayer. "Night Mother."
"Rise, my dark daughter. I am a loving mother, like your own, and would not wish sore bones on you." Shaking slightly, to the tips of her ears, Lucia stood again, eyes raking in the form of the Bride of Sithis. "Dear Cicero longed for a voice, but he was not the one who needed to Listen. That burden is yours, dear daughter. Darkness Rises when Silence Dies. Tell my dear keeper when his wits return, but be gentle with him. He spent so long alone that it was better for him to turn to your birth mother's grasp. But be warned, upheaval is coming." Her voice had taken on a trance-like quality. "Darkness Rises when Silence Dies, a phoenix burns before it flies. The Family will sink lower than it ever has before, only to be reborn in flame, and to come out the other side stronger for it. Wheels turn, dynasties fall, old information comes to light. Darkness rules the tower of light, sisters must choose between mother and father, man and mer. A darkness is coming to Tamriel, and the duty of saving it falls to two of my dear daughters. You are, however, up to this task. I know the two of you will rise more than ever before, and make the Family strong for it."

Her part said, the Night Mother returned the way she had come, falling apart into pieces. Sheogorath, having taken the form of revelry once more, smiled, and nodded. "Cicero is yours again. Follow the wishes of Astrid for now, and caution the Keeper against acting contrary to the Matron for now. I have faith in you my daughter. I suppose it is past time I returned to the Isles." As she called for her steward, Lucia felt herself falling, tumbling back to Tamriel. Her old, worn clothes lay at her feet as she looked around the Pelagius wing once more. Kicking them aside, she felt her foot hit a staff, the three faces of the door that took her mother greeting her as she picked it up.

"Champion mother? Really? As well as Listener?" Shaking her head when she didn't get a reply, not that she expected one, she turned and left the wing, making sure the beggar was gone, and bartered for a carriage to Falkreath, illusion magic turning the staff into something less noticeable. She never saw the cowled golden eyes watching her depart.