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The sun bore down on a quiet pathway just to the south of Riverwood in the middle of the day. A lone Argonian woman walked the path heading out of the small town, a large, woven basket under her arm. It recently held fresh produce and mining materials during her walk to Riverwood an hour earlier, but now sat empty as the revenue the Argonian had received from her wares were now sitting safely in a coin pouch tucked away in her dress pockets. The Argonian woman stared up at the sunny sky and gave a deep breath with a smile on her face, once again thankful that she now had a lifestyle that allowed her to enjoy the outdoors in better conditions and without having to worry about the constant snow and ice of Windhelm that she used to.
After spending so long as a low-paid dockworker in Windhelm, Shahvee never would have expected her life would have changed in any way, thought she had learned to remain optimistic that, eventually, things would get better. Her fellow Argonian dockworkers, one by one, had slowly started to become begrudgingly acceptant to the fact that they would never be able to afford to go anywhere else except live their lives as lowly dockworkers in a place where Argonians were treated so poorly that they weren’t even allowed inside the city. But Shahvee kept the faith, praying to whatever Divine would listen to her that things could get better for her and her people.
Then the Dragonborn showed up. Shahvee remembered seeing them come over to her out of the corner of her eye as she was working on tanning some leather in her designated corner of the docks. She talked to the Dragonborn for a bit and, when she brought up an amulet that had been stolen from her, the mysterious hero had offered to retrieve it without a second thought. Shahvee was stunned that someone who barely knew her would be willing to brave a bandit lair for something that, while something the Argonian woman treasured deeply, was so trivial in the grand scheme of things, and she was even more-surprised when the Dragonborn returned a few days later with it in their hands. Shahvee remembered thanking the hero as they went on their way, and she thought that was the end of it, though the Dragonborn made a habit of visiting and talking with her every time they came to Windhelm.
Imagine her surprise, then, when the Dragonborn showed up one day wearing an Amulet of Mara.
In all honesty, Shahvee was still astonished that she became the wife of the Dragonborn. The hero of Skyrim would have likely had so many eligible bachelors and bachelorettes to pick from when they decided to settle down, but out of everyone they could have chosen for a spouse, they picked her. Shahvee used to be afraid to go to sleep at night because she feared waking up back in that cold, stone slum in Windhelm and having been dreaming everything. It took almost a week for her to finally realize for herself that, no, she wasn’t a dockworker in Windhelm anymore, in a place where the Nords ridiculed, belittled and treated her and her fellow Argonians as sub-species. She wasn’t living a life of little pay, living in a city that, no matter what the outcome of this pointless civil war, would likely never truly accept her kind.
No, she was the wife of the Dragonborn, living in a house just outside of a friendly community of people that largely welcomed her with open and accepting arms. She was the happy, thankful mother of six rambunctious, playful girls, of all races and adopted from every corner of Skyrim most before the Dragonborn had married Shahvee. The optimistic Argonian could still remember the feeling of joy she felt at the marriage ceremony in Riften where, just after everything had been made official and the two were declared to be wed, she was overwhelmed by four small girls, yelling in excitement at the fact that Shahvee had just become their ‘mama’. The fact that her Dragonborn love had adopted these poor, orphaned girls out of the kindness of their heart had just reinforced Shahvee’s suspicions about the Dragonborn when they offered to brave a bandit’s lair to recover a treasured necklace of hers: That the Dragonborn had more humanity than a lot of people in Skyrim.
Riverwood in general was such a nicer place to live near, as well. It was a short walk from home and the people that lived in the small community largely welcomed her, especially when they heard that she was the Dragonborn’s wife. Alvor and Sigrid were especially nice to her and would often invite Shahvee over for brunch while her daughters played with Dorthe and Frodnar. The family had gotten so close to her own that her daughters started calling the two “Uncle Alvor” and “Aunt Sigrid”. Alvor and Sigrid being so welcoming to Shahvee and unbothered by her gave the Argonian a lot of reassurance that not all Nords were prejudiced against her kind, and that alone made her appreciate the small community even more. Lucan and Camilla Valerius were actually Shahvee’s main customers in Riverwood and Lucan was happy to buy materials and produce off of her to sell in his store, paying Shahvee decent coin for her troubles. Shahvee made more in a couple days doing this errand run to Riverwood than she did in a week working at the docks of Windhelm. Lucan and Camilla were nice and respectful to Shahvee and her daughters, but the Argonian woman might have guessed that may have been partially because most of the times her love gave the daughters an allowance they often spent it at the Valerius’ store, not that Shahvee was bothered by that because she and Lucan often maintained a friendly business relationship anyways. Even Faendal and Sven, sworn rivals over a childish crush over Camilla, would often be seen teaching the girls some skills when they visited Riverwood. In one instance, Shahvee remembered seeing Faendal teaching Lucia archery one day and Sven teaching her to play a lute the next.
Shahvee arrived at the top of a hill that overlooked the shore on the other side of the river and paused her walk as she gazed out at the literal mansion she, her love and her daughters called home: Dragonstead Manor. When the Dragonborn told Shahvee they had a house to move into when they were married, Shahvee expected a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere; not a three-story manor with not only enough living space for the two of them plus their six adopted daughters, but a separate guest house for the Dragonborn’s travelling companions if they needed to rest for a while. Spotting her rowboat tied to a small dock on her side of the river, Shahvee walked over and got into it. Normally she would be fine swimming across the river to return home (she WAS Argonian, after all), but she knew that the river was tied to Lake Ilinalta and that slaughterfish tended to spawn there so she had learned to stop taking chances.
The Argonian woman paused as she reached for her oars, her mind suddenly wandering. No matter how happy she was, Shahvee couldn’t help but think back to her fellow Argonian dockworkers back in Windhelm. Why did she deserve to have a life of happiness away from the racism of Windhelm while the rest of her friends continued to suffer? Was it because Shahvee remained optimistic about life regardless about her social standing and this was the Divines’ way of rewarding her for her faith? No, that couldn’t be true, because no matter how well her life would improve she would never wish that her fellow Argonians stay in those awful working and living conditions. Shahvee knew that the conditions wouldn’t change no matter who won the civil war: If the Stormcloaks won, the Argonians would be destined to reside outside the city walls; if the Empire won, the process for changing those Stormcloak-imposed laws for Windhelm would take months to alter, and even then there would always be people in Windhelm who would have no problem chucking a rock at an unarmed Argonian simply because they felt Nords were superior.
The Dragonborn assured Shahvee, however, that the dockworkers’ lives were at least partially-improving; they had seen to it personally that the wages would be increased significantly to the point where the Argonians were receiving near-equal pay, which helped put Shahvee’s mind at ease slightly. At least now that the pay was better there was a chance her friends at the docks may eventually be able to move away from Windhelm to somewhere more-accommodating. She had seen Riften due to being married there and, despite it being the most openly-corrupt city in Skyrim as far as she could tell, it was a place that, unlike in Windhelm, the Argonians could at least earn a decent wage and be treated like citizens, judging by the Argonian couple that ran the inn, the skittish Argonian woman that worked in the fishery and the friendly Argonian man that ran the jewellery stand in the market.
Shahvee suddenly thought back to all of those Argonians in Riften that she had met when she got married there. From what she heard, all of them seemingly held the Dragonborn in high regard and considered them a friend. Talen-Jei recounted to her that the Dragonborn had helped him make the perfect Argonian engagement ring for his own beloved by supplying him with glistening gemstones, Madesi admitted that the Dragonborn’s help in getting him materials and supplies was what was keeping him in business to make his personal brand of (admittedly beautiful) Argonian jewellery, and Wujeeta would gush to Shahvee about the Dragonborn in that they helped her overcome a skooma addiction and extended a hand of friendship when no one else would. Shahvee saw all three of them show up for her wedding to the Dragonborn, and Wujeeta in particular was the first to congratulate her on the wedding, telling her with a wide smile that she had just married the person that would be sure to make her happy for the rest of her life. This made Shahvee realize that the Dragonborn had a strong sense of justice towards the Argonians and would help fight the injustices on them, or at the very least step out of their way to lend a hand to one when no one else would bat at eye. Shahvee knew then, before setting foot outside of the temple of Mara, that she had made the right choice in marrying the Dragonborn.
Reaching the other dock near Dragonstead Manor, Shahvee stepped out of the rowboat, tied it securely to the dock and grabbed her now-empty basket as she walked up the hill towards home. Normally, she would be taking one or more of the girls along with her, but today she was only planning on running her errands to sell some product to Lucan so she had no intention of staying in Riverwood long. She started walking up a short hill, towards the manor, when she heard a voice that made her freeze.
“Hello in there! Anybody home?” A new unfamiliar voice was heard from the vicinity of Dragonstead Manor’s front door. “I seek the one they call the Dragonborn! Wakey-wakey, dragon-slayer!”
Shahvee’s Argonian blood froze. Her love had recently gone on a trip to Markarth and would be gone for a few days, and that voice certainly didn’t belong to any of their travelling companions that sometimes came to visit. Reaching for the dagger at her hip (an ebony dagger; a gift from her love), Shahvee raced up the hill towards the house as she prepared herself to protect her daughters from an unknown assailant, fearing that it was an agent of the Dark Brotherhood despite the Dragonborn seeing to it personally that the entire clan of assassins was wiped out.
Instead, standing at the front door, Shahvee found a bearded old man with grey hair wearing a strange-coloured coat and with a fancy-looking walking stick in his hand. He looked to be knocking on the door with a strange, playful rhythm, as if he was knocking on the door to a tune playing in his head. Shahvee had long-since given the girls strict instructions to not open the door to anyone if neither her nor the Dragonborn were home, so seeing the front door remain shut at least put Shahvee’s mind at ease that her daughters had listened to her, but the fact remained that there was an unfamiliar man on her doorstep and Shahvee didn’t want to rule out any possibility of him being a revenge-fueled marauder for the time being.
Unfortunately, despite the fact that Shahvee prided herself in being a stealthy ex-thief, the element of surprise was lost since the sounds of her footsteps on the wooden front porch had alerted the man at the door. The man turned to face the Argonian woman as she approached, undeterred, and drew her dagger threateningly.
“State your name, stranger.” Shahvee warned sternly. “I may not be as skilled in combat as my love is but I promise you I’m faster with the blade than I look.”
Despite being threatened, the man broke out into a wide smile. “Ah! Splendid! I take it you’re the lady of the house?” He asked.
“What’s it to you?” Shahvee challenged back.
“Waitwaitwait...The Dragonborn married an Argonian, eh?” The man asked aloud, sounding amused. “My, I knew that specimen of shouty, fleshy, sword-choppy organs had refined tastes but this is a surprise to even ME!”
This seemed to take Shahvee by surprise. “Wait. How do you know the Dragonborn?” She asked before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Are you here to take revenge on them for something?”
The stranger laughed as he placed both hands on his fancy walking stick (which, now that Shahvee thought about it, looked more decorative than anything). “Hardly, by dear! The Dragonborn and I? Oh, we’re good friends! Close-knit buddies! Barely acquaintances!” He assured. “I’ve known them all of twelve minutes when they decided to exorcise me from the long-dead mind of a homicidally-insane tyrant! Oh, it was legendary! There were Wabbajacks! Harlots! CHEESE! FLAMING SPRIGGANS!...Oh, wait. Maybe not the spriggan bit...”
The mention of the word Wabbajack made Shahvee freeze in realization, suddenly knowing that she wasn’t standing in the presence of a wandering traveler or a vengeful assassin but rather a Daedric Prince.
More specifically, the Daedric Prince of Madness.
“You’re...Sheogorath...” Shahvee breathed.
Shahvee had heard horror stories of Sheogorath when she was younger. That he loved to involve himself with the affairs of mortals and that he could go on destructive warpaths whenever he got bored, but that there were far-more inherently-evil Daedric Princes by comparison. At the same time, when the Dragonborn told her of their encounter with the mad god, Sheogorath had apparently been...Pleasant? Easygoing? Nowhere near the violently-insane Daedric Prince she had been told about when she was a mere hatchling, in any case. Maybe the Dragonborn had encountered him when Sheogorath was in a good mood?
“Ah, so old shout-first-ask-questions-never mentioned me, did they? I feel flattered!” The stranger laughed again. “Tell me; what did they say about me? That I’m cunning? Quick-witted? Obsessed with all things cheese? A fantastic ballroom dancer?”
“That you’re insane.”
Sheogorath gave a carefree shrug. “Eh, that would’ve been my next guess.” He admitted. “Where IS the old Dragonborn, anyway? Seriously, an old friend pops by for a visit and they can’t even be bothered to roll a grapefruit out the front door to greet me?”
“They’re on a tip to Markarth.” Shahvee said apprehensively.
Sheogorath blinked. “Ugh. Markarth? No THANK you.” He handwaved. “That’s Namira’s territory and the last thing I want is to involve myself in the affairs of a bunch of cannibals. Sure, the thought of mortals tearing each other apart may SOUND funny, but after the first fifty times it just makes you realize it’s probably one of the most BORING ways to deal with someone that annoys you.”
Shahvee paused, unsure of how to proceed. “So why is the Daedric Prince of Madness looking for the Dragonborn?” She asked, though not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.
Sheogorath saw Shahvee’s apprehension and laughed again. “Oh, don’t worry about it, my dear! I’m not here to convert anyone or spread the word of Wabbajack like those preachy Talos people like to do!” He assured. “I promise I just wanted to pop by for a visit, though it looks like I must’ve just missed them.”
“I’m afraid you have. My love isn’t expected back for another couple of days.” Shahvee shook her head, though keeping her hand on her dagger.
“Well, while I’m here maybe the two of us can get acquainted! Maybe I can meet your little rugrats too!”
Shahvee narrowed her eyes. “You won’t convince any of us to follow your ways, Prince of Madness...” She warned. “I’m a firm worshipper of Zenithar and my daughters are all faithful to others like Mara, Talos or Akatosh.”
“Hey, like I said, I’m only here to visit! I assure you!” Sheogorath assured.
Shahvee hesitated for a moment, somehow feeling that she would regret the decision she was about to make. “Fine. But we’re NOT going inside my home. I’m NOT endangering my children.” She said firmly.
“Do I look like the kind of guy you need to worry about endangering children?” Sheogorath asked innocently before pausing. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”
“M-Mama?” A quiet voice asked from the door.
Shahvee’s head snapped towards the door and saw one of her daughters peeking out from a crack in the door, having opened it slightly to see what was going on outside. Shahvee saw a small Nord girl with long, brown hair and a timid, fearful expression. Sofie.
“Ah, is this one of the little skeever-munchers?” Sheogorath asked. “Hello there, little one! Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Perhaps you heard of me?”
“A-Are you the one that we got that scary-looking staff from? The one we aren’t allowed to touch?” Sofie asked hesitantly.
“Ah, the Dragonborn kept the Wabbajack after all! I knew the shouty blowhard had warmed up to me!” Sheogorath laughed.
“Enough! Let’s just...Go over to the table and sit down.” Shahvee said, gesturing to an outdoor wooden table before turning to the scared-looking girl peeking out of the doorway. “Sofie, dear? Can...You please go fetch some cheese out of the kitchen? You know where it is, right?”
“Y-Yes, mama.” Sofie nodded.
“Thank you, sweetie. I’ll...Entertain our guest out here, okay?”
Sofie nodded as she closed the door quickly. Shahvee directed Sheogorath over to the large table as the two sat down across from each other, Shahvee keeping her eyes trained on the mad god.
“Seems like a nice girl.” Sheogorath mentioned. “Let’s see...Windhelm?”
Shahvee narrowed her eyes. “Her or me?” She asked.
Sheogorath paused in thought, looking the Argonian up and down a bit. “I’m gonna say both, which is interesting in itself since, you know, Windhelm is a place where Nords don’t exactly appreciate you Argonians, ain’t it?” He challenged.
She may have loved all six of her children, but Shahvee held a special bond with Sofie. She was a young Nord girl that the Dragonborn had adopted in Windhelm just before meeting Shahvee for the first time, though the small girl held the distinction of being all of the Argonians’ favourite Nord in Windhelm since she often came down to the docks to say hello and expressed how sorry she was that the Argonians had such poor living conditions when, at the same time, Sofie herself was living on the streets of Windhelm, ignored and outcast by all around her despite being a Nord herself. Scouts-Many-Marshes even joked from time to time that Sofie was treated so badly by the Nords that she should be named an honorary Argonian. It broke Shahvee’s heart to see Sofie treated so badly by her own people, and she often told herself that if she was able to get herself into a better lifestyle, or at least good enough to move out of Windhelm, she’d adopt Sofie and take her with her. However, by the time the Dragonborn had proposed to Shahvee, she had stopped seeing Sofie come down to the docks and feared that she had frozen to death alone in the streets, but when she saw Sofie among the other daughters present at her wedding, beaming in joy at the sight of Shahvee becoming her mother, Shahvee could only cry tears of joy as she gathered the Nord girl into a first embrace as mother and daughter.
“Sofie was an orphan beggar in Windhelm when my dearest found her and plucked her off the street, just before they first met me at the docks.” Shahvee said sharply.
“Yes, yes, I know. If I recall correctly, all of your little munchkins were orphans before that dragon soul-stealer decided to take them in, weren’t they?”
Shahvee paused. “How do you know this?” She asked.
Sheogorath grinned and jammed his thumb into his chest. “DAEDRIC PRINCE, dearie.” He reminded. “I knew that particular Dragonborn was special when I laid eyes on them but the thought of them taking in six kids of all different races, all of them orphans that had hit rock bottom...Well, it hits ya pretty hard, eh? Like a slap to the face by a rabid slaughterfish.”
“So why does this interest you so much? You’re the embodiment of chaos and madness.” Shahvee pointed out.
“Because the Dragonborn interests me in a way that no mortal has in hundreds of years. It seems that every choice they make results in chaos, or at least has the chance to. Will the Dragonborn side with the Empire or the Stormcloaks? Will the Dragonborn aid the werewolf fallen on hard times or will they help the hunters put him out of his misery? Will the Dragonborn join the Dark Brotherhood or will they raze the entire sanctuary in a fiery rage and siphon the soul of each member of the cult into a soul gem?” Sheogorath grinned. “Oh, wait. You know the answer to that last one, don’t you?”
“My love single-handedly put down each and every one of those evil, death-worshipping skeevers because they tried to forcibly enlist them into the organization against their will.” Shahvee reminded, speaking her description of the Dark Brotherhood with as much venom as she could muster.
“I KNOW!” Sheogorath guffawed. “I saw the whole thing from the Shivering Isles! The leader gave the Dragonborn a choice of victims and they instead decided to kill HER instead! I can’t think of a reason why they were so angry, though. I don’t recall seeing them so mad...”
“They were kidnapped FROM OUR HOUSE. While they were SLEEPING IN OUR BED.” Shahvee retorted through her teeth. “The thought of those monsters killing either me or our children was enough to send my love on the warpath.”
“EXACTLY! For one brief moment, the Dragonborn wasn’t focused on the world-eater! They weren’t focused on this bloody useless civil war that you mortals are dealing with! For one brief, glorious moment, all the Dragonborn was focused on was wiping the Dark Brotherhood off the face of Tamriel! All because they were worried about what the assassins that kidnapped them may or may not have done to their family!” Sheogorath said. “Seriously, that campaign against the Dark Brotherhood was so bloody and violent I’m sure Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon were jealous!”
“So what does this have to do with you?” Shahvee queried.
“This is why I’m so interested in the Dragonborn! The choices they make can lead to so much chaos and they take so many third options it can leave even ME clueless as to which choice they’ll make!” Sheogorath insisted.
Shahvee gave a sad sigh. “Well, I suppose that some of the choices they make are questionable at best and morally-gray at worst, but I refuse to say that my love is anything other than a good person.” She insisted. “Need I remind you that they plucked me, an Argonian woman living among some of the worst racists Skyrim has to offer, out of the slums and hand-picked six girls off the streets and out of poverty?”
“Of course not. That’s another reason I’m fascinated with them so much! They make all the interesting decisions!” Sheogorath laughed. “Whenever they’re faced with a choice that most other mortals would toss and turn over, worrying about some kind of terrible consequences to the decision, the Dragonborn just up and picks an unseen option with no hesitation! That’s what makes them so interesting and all it’s done is make me convinced that I need to keep a VERY close eye on them from here on out.”
“If you think they’ll actually let you stay here with us...” Shahvee started.
“Ah, don’t get your knickers in a twist, lady. I gots way too much boring responsibility ruling the Shivering Isles.” Sheogorath assured with another handwave. “I’m just saying that, in addition to watching them from my plane of Oblivion, I may decide to pop in for a visit during a vacation rather than inhabit another dead lunatic. You know it’s saying something when I think the Dragonborn would be more fun to hang out with than Emperor Pelagius, eh?”
Shahvee paused for a moment, as if weighing her options, and finally gave a long exhale. “I suppose that, even if I refused, I wouldn’t exactly have a choice, would I?” She asked.
Sheogorath gave another hearty laugh. “Oh, you catch on fast! I can tell I’m going to like you, dear!” He admitted. “No, not even the Dragonborn really has a say in me stopping by to say hello, but I figured that, since I find them so interesting and all, I at least have the decency to let them know I’m coming. At least then it’d give them more time to throw a spriggan on the fire and crack open a few bottles of Honningbrew.”
Shahvee cocked an invisible eyebrow. “Not Black-Briar Reserve, I suppose?” She asked.
“Black-Briar Reserve? ME drinking that swill? Lady, that’s a joke not even I would find funny.” Sheogorath said flatly. “I certainly hope you two don’t CARRY any of that stuff here.”
Shahvee couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, if my love finds any bottles on their travels, the girls use them as target practice training their archery.” She admitted.
Sheogorath laughed. “Ah, you DO have a sense of humour! I knew you had it in you!” He admitted.
“Um...Mama?”
The two turned their heads and saw Sofie approaching the table, holding a plate with a wheel of cheese on it, complete with a small cutting knife. Shahvee saw that the front door was open a crack and saw at least two of her other daughters peeking out from inside, as if to see what would happen.
“I brought some cheese.” Sofie said timidly. “I-I hope you like it, mister.”
“Oh. Thank you, Sofie.” Shahvee nodded.
Sheogorath grinned as Sofie placed the plate on the table. “Why, is this Ancient Daedric Cheese?! Oh, this is my favourite!” He exclaimed. “Does the Dragonborn make it a habit of stocking these?”
Shahvee nodded again. “Whenever they find some out in the field they bring it back. I’m not fussy on it myself.” She admitted.
“Eh, it’s a refined taste for sure, but I have to say it’s been far too long since I’ve had any of this stuff outside of the Shivering Isles! Sometimes I even forget that Tamriel got its grubby little hands on it! Imagine! ME, forgetting something about CHEESE!” Sheogorath said as he took the knife and cut a large wedge out of the wheel, grabbing it in one hand as he turned to Sofie. “Say, little one, did you know I INVENTED this kind of cheese? The story of how it ended up in the hands of men is quite the interesting one! Care to hear it?”
"Um...Sure?” Sofie replied with a hesitant nod.
Thus started a long-winded tale told by the mad god. Sheogorath happily told Sofie his story, sparing no detail but, much to Shahvee’s surprise, leaving out any grotesque details he may have otherwise been all too glad to include. In their place, Sheogorath seemed to put more focus on the fantastical moments of the tale, putting great effort into making the story sound as funny as possible for the small girl listening to him tell it. It seemed to pay off, since Sofie cracked a smile after a few minutes and started laughing at Sheogorath’s tale the more the mad god talked about it.
Sofie’s giggling soon attracted the rest of Shahvee’s daughters as five more timid-looking girls trickled out the front door, Lucia leading the pack as she and the others slowly approached the table as well. The six daughters stood around the table before, after a few minutes, some sat down as they paid attention to Sheogorath’s storytelling. Curiosity soon turned to laughter as Sheogorath had all six of Shahvee’s daughters laughing at his story and, finally seeing that the mad god somehow didn’t actually mean any of them any harm, Shahvee silently put her dagger back in its holster at her waist. Although she kept a close eye on Sheogorath as he told his tales to her children, she at least felt that the dagger wasn’t needed anymore, not like it would have been any useful against the Daedric Prince if she had decided to legitimately try and raise her weapon against him.
By the time Sheogorath was done his story, he had all six of the girls listening with curious smiles and rapt attention, and Shahvee briefly pondered if the stories she heard about Sheogorath when she was younger were true, though she had a feeling her beloved Dragonborn spouse was actually responsible for the fact that the mad god was in a friendly, jovial mood. The Dragonborn had acquired a handful of Daedric artifacts already, and all without actually surrendering their soul to the Daedric Prince involved, so Shahvee already knew that they seemed to have a way with getting on a Daedra’s good side, or at least they knew which of the Daedra to deal with and which to avoid like rockjoint. Azura and Meridia had actually been rather formal with the Dragonborn and requested that they slay someone particularly evil, and from what they told Shahvee the Dragonborn mentioned that Sheogorath actually requested very little of them before giving them the Wabbajack, which sat on a display rack in the manor and, since they had first returned with it and displayed it, hadn’t been touched out of caution. Something told Shahvee that Sheogorath knew the Wabbajack wasn’t been used for anything since she figured you couldn’t hide much from a Daedric Prince that reveled in getting involved with the affairs of mortals.
After Sheogorath was done with his story, he mentioned that he needed to get going back to his plane of Oblivion before Haskill made things boring without him. Shahvee directed her daughters to go back inside and, after saying goodbye to Sheogorath, they went back through the front door, shutting it behind them and leaving Shahvee alone with Sheogorath again.
“So what d’you think? Did I make a good first impression?” Sheogorath winked at Shahvee as he stood up and gave the handle of his decorative walking stick a slight polish.
Shahvee paused. “Why are you bothering being cordial to us in the first place?” She asked. “From the stories I’ve heard you reap chaos and discord wherever you go and meddle with mortals in violent ways if you think it entertains you.”
“Oh, believe me, I still do.” Sheogorath assured. “Don’t worry. I’m not going soft or anything.”
“...So why did you just spend an hour telling my daughters a story and not turn any of us into sweetrolls?” Shahvee asked hesitantly, knowing that the mad god was very-capable of doing it.
“I believe I told you that I found the Dragonborn...Interesting. I want to monitor their escapades. I want to make sure I don’t miss a thing.” Sheogorath explained. “But I can also tell that you and your daughters will all have very interesting lives yourselves due to being a part of the Dragonborn’s life.”
“So you want to stay close to the family because...”
“Because, quite frankly, you’ll all be much more-interesting in life if I DON’T directly interfere. I...Won’t really NEED to.” Sheogorath explained with a grin. “But the last thing I want is to miss out on ANY of it.”
Shahvee paused a moment, thinking things over. It was clear that she didn’t really have an option in accepting or denying Sheogorath’s attempts to visit; the Daedric Prince was capable of coming over whenever he wanted, but at least it seemed, from this first meeting at least, that he had no intention of harming her or any of her children because, in his words, their lives were destined to be so interesting that he wanted to see how they panned out. As strange as it sounded to her, it appears that the literal Daedric Prince of Madness meant her no harm.
After a long moment’s hesitation, Shahvee gave another sigh. “...Very well. If you’ll behave yourself enough to not...Do anything horrifically-violent, then I guess I’ll be fine with having you visit the house from time to time, but ONLY if you promise to let my dearest know ahead of time and not just show up unannounced like you did today.” She relented.
Sheogorath gave another hearty laugh as Shahvee stood up from the table. “Oh, I knew I liked you! Trust me, dearie, you won’t regret the choice. I mean, not like you could have stopped me from visiting anyways, but I’ll at least be sure to give Shouty McHacksalot a heads up before I decide to pop over!” He exclaimed before taking Shahvee’s hand and giving it a kiss. “It truly was a pleasure meeting you and the little rugrats, milady! I dare say that your pre-Dragonborn plights have made me sympathize with the Argonians in this civil war the humans insist on fighting. Maybe the next time I visit I’ll give Rolff Stone-Fist a case of ataxia! I’m sure the dark elves of Windhelm would appreciate it, at least.” He scratched his head for a moment, as if considering actually following through with his idea, before glancing at Shahvee again and catching himself. “Oh! Be sure to give me a holler the next time you and the Dragonborn are in the Shivering Isles! We can double-date!”
“You...Have a significant other?” Shahvee tilted her head slightly.
“Welllll...Not exactly, but I can clone myself to create a second Sheogorath and then shank him after the double-date to prevent him from going on a typical evil-clone-rampage. Still haven’t figured out a way to keep those from happening.” Sheogorath said with a shrug.
“I suppose it’s something you would do, from what I’ve heard of you.” Shahvee admitted.
Sheogorath couldn’t help but give another laugh. “Before I go, my dear, I feel I need to at least tell you something.” He informed. “I wasn’t lying when I said your family was destined to have interesting lives. That includes you.”
Shahvee shook her head. “I’d say my life has been interesting enough for me; I married the Dragonborn, became the mother to six wonderful girls and am currently living a life of happiness most Argonians in Skyrim could only dream of.” She replied. “I’d be content if my life was more-mundane from here on out.”
“Ah, but where’s the fun in that? You really want to live a boring life, doing nothing but live a quiet life in the country, and die of old age surrounded by family?” Sheogorath winked. “Everyone needs a little chaos in their life, my dear Shahvee. Sure, some may let too much of it in, but when that happens they become a follower of me anyways so I ain’t exactly complaining. Well, either that or turn out like Pelagius or Potema, so maybe I’ll admit there’s a bit of a threshold.”
Sheogorath stepped back and spread his arms, and Shahvee suddenly noticed a bright light open up behind the mad god as he stepped back. “But don’t be afraid of a little excitement now and then! Sometimes, you just gotta lean back and laugh as you propel yourself off Bard’s Leap!” He informed. “Ta-ta, now! Be sure to tell your dear Dragonborn I was by! I’m sure they’ll only have nice things to say about me!”
With that, Sheogorath stepped backwards into the portal, cackling like a madman the entire time, and letting the light envelop him, before the opening closed up and left Shahvee alone on the front deck, though she could swear that she heard Sheogorath’s maniacal laughter echoing through the winds for a good few seconds after he was gone.
Shahvee exhaled in relief, finally letting her arms droop to her sides. Looking at her hands, Shahvee saw that her knuckles had gone white, making her realize that she was so tense during Sheogorath’s visit that she had clenched her fists in nervousness out of fear that she or her family may have suffered a terrible fate on account of the mad god getting bored.
Sheogorath’s words echoed in her mind as Shahvee looked at the sky. He had told her to have a little more excitement in her life and not be content with a quiet life, but at the same time Shahvee knew that if Sheogorath would be visiting from time to time then that would be more than enough excitement for a long time, especially since it seemed that her daughters seemed quite taken to him during the story he told them.
Now, it seemed, she had quite a tale herself to tell the Dragonborn when they returned from their trip from Markarth. She had a face-to-face encounter with the Daedric Prince of Madness and emerged from it with her mind intact; something that she was sure not many people had the privilege of saying. That said, the Dragonborn would be sure to have questions for her when they returned, and Shahvee went over several in her head as she walked towards the front door to Dragonstead Manor to go inside. If her love had any questions related to the encounter she just had, Shahvee wanted to make sure that she had an answer for them.
That said, she worried that the Dragonborn would ask a question if one of her daughters started calling the mad god “Uncle Sheogorath”. She wasn’t sure if she’d EVER be able to have an answer to that one...