Work Text:
Relmyna Verenim was startled by the knock at her door. Few in the Shivering Isles remembered to knock. Fewer still knew of her laboratory in the ruins of Xaselm. The knock was far too forceful to be her apprentice. The dunmer pursed her lips. The Greymarch had ended, surely her beloved Sheogorath would return soon. He would knock. The madwoman sucked in a lungful of stale air before opening the door.
Sheogorath’s champion.
Relmyna deflated.
There was something off about the sudden appearance that encouraged the mage to withhold her usual tone. There was, in her mind, little reason for this visit.
“What do you want?” There was a conscious effort to keep her voice neutral as opposed to irritated.
The armoured woman hovered in the doorway, expression concealed behind her helm.
“To talk.”
The inclination of the champion’s voice seemed to hint at something else; an expectation of different response. Upon their first and subsequent meetings Relmyna had quickly discovered the champion was never adept at hiding her motives or emotions. No, Avery was a very simple woman. A warrior (barely a spellsword) and nothing more.
“About?” Relmyna prodded, raising both eyebrows.
“May I come in?” The imperial’s tone lacked its usual rumble. A gauntlet was waved in the general direction of a chair. This, once again, surprised the sorceress. She had never seen this level of etiquette before. She half obliged out of surprise. This was rehearsed, surely. Avery took a seat, removed her helmet with a clank, then stared at Relmyna. Eyes narrowed. Lips pursed. One could practically hear the gears whirring in her head. Perhaps not so rehearsed. Her hostess watched, exasperation growing by the second. The women both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. The warrior finally took the initiative, swallowing thickly.
“I need to tell you something. Potentially…” she faltered, suddenly losing her focus quickly, brow furrowing. “… What is that?”
Relmyna humoured the question, fighting down the fury bubbling inside her. This entire endeavour felt childish, stupid, the champion had visited her laboratory before. She knew of its contents. What was the point of this? The woman could scarcely act, she was certainly feigning something. Her red eyes flicked to the skinned hound on her operating table, then up to her shelf of alchemical supplies, then-
The dunmer paused as her ears picked up the distinct noise of scrambling and a rustle of fur. She turned sharply on her heel. For a fleeting second her first impulse was to laugh, this was quickly overcome with white hot rage.
“Are you mocking me?!” The sorceress nearly screamed, teeth bared, red eyes boring holes into the champion.
“No, not at all.” Her voice had returned to its usual monotone, face showing little emotion. Avery sat in the seat exactly the same as before.
The only thing new was the beard.
The shoddily constructed fake beard was misaligned on her face from the rush of putting it on. The same sickly shade of purple as her hair. Darker in patches due to whatever crude adhesive it had been stuck together with. Apparently somehow it had been hidden within the depths of her armour. What was Relmyna to think of this? What was the point of such a ploy?
“Humour me.” Her voice dropped low, before bouncing up to a mock conversational tone. Frankly, given the woman’s usual behaviour, it was unsettling. “How do you like my beard?”
“Your fake beard?”
Avery rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Ok, but functionally it’s a beard. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“Many things.”
“Any… laws?”
“Even attempting the growth of a beard is deemed unseemly by law,” The sorceress spat, knowing she was being directed towards some enigmatic point, but not what it was. She did not appreciate the feeling of being herded like a sheep. She narrowed her eyes, adding patronisingly “By unseemly I mean punishable by death.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that. But, regardless, that’s not a problem for me.” Her tone was practiced, dismissive, almost bored.
“How are you above the law?!”
“Sheogorath has a beard and it’s fine.”
This was the final straw. The outrage brings crackling magic to her fingertips. The instigator doesn’t flinch. This angers her more. She SHOULD. She should fear what my wrath can bring. The outburst comes as a torrent of words.
“You dare? You fetcher! You s’wit! You think you can just…! Mock our lord like this? Is this what it’s about?! Just because of an absence you- you- what do you want me to say?! Our Lord isn’t coming back? He won’t punish you because He abandoned us? He HAD a beard?!” Relmyna’s voice cracked with a rage. She felt wetness on her cheeks. By the Madgod she was crying. Damn it. “I won’t stand for this! You’ll pay for this! I’ll- I’ll-”
The Champion did not shrink into herself but seemed aware of the severity of the outburst, a flicker of sympathy crossed her face. Crying. Not good. Relmyna did not cry about much. Her lips pursed as she smoothed the beard. She let out a small sigh and then spoke once more, voice soft.
“Has a beard.”
Slowly, her hand raised.
“It’s not a real one…”
The champion simply pointed to herself.
The sorceress’ chest heaved, so taken aback she was at a loss for words. She blinked fervently, scanning her guest’s face through her veil of tears for… something. Anything. A hint that it was a cruel joke. But unfortunately for her, she knew Avery was too blunt to be this cruel and frankly too stupid to make a decent joke in the first place.
The warrior fiddled with the neckpiece of her cuirass, averting her eyes. There was silence save the scrape of gauntlet against the metal. After some struggle, she allowed the familiar ornate collar of purple finery poke over her armour. Her voice terse when she finally spoke, bitterness permeating every word. “You don’t defeat a Daedric Prince in combat as… just … no matter how hard you want to.”
Relmyna felt faint. This was hysterical. No it wasn’t- this was horrible- The room was closing in on her, she could feel it forcing the air from her lungs. The colour drained from her face. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, gulping wetly whilst trying to find words. But what? What could she say? What could she do?
“Have you always been Sheogorath?”
“No.”
“How? For how long?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how this works.”
An uneasy blanket of silence settled.
“Some people could tell. I couldn’t tell- didn’t feel any different- the guards knew immediately. Haskill said you might not know and-” Avery itched the side of her face, removing the beard as there was no longer any need for it. “I’m not very good with- I was- Haskill advised against the… beard. But I didn’t know how else to- you wouldn’t have believed me if I’d just-“
She let the words hang in the air as she met Relmyna’s eyes, hoping for some glimmer of understanding. Everything spewing forth from her mouth was a mess, even with the enchanted doublet on which was supposed to help. Wordlessly, the dunmer plucked the beard from her hands and observed it, contemplative.
“This is disgusting. Your own hair-“ The sorceress scoffed as she tried to remove the clumps now adhered to her fingers.
“I didn’t have anything else to use. Not like Haskill had any to spare.”
A pause. The dark elf made a noise between laughing and crying, then steadied her breathing. “This was your idea? You really have gone mad.”
Avery shuffled in response, brow furrowed. Before she could open her mouth, Relmyna interjected. “Tell Haskill I liked the beard. That it was a masterful way of telling me. I don’t truly think that, I just want to spite him. I hate that old fool.” She smiled thinly, voice shaky.
Avery tutted, a ghost of a smirk on her face. “He’s only doing his job - giving me advice I won’t take.”
“That’s at least one constant of Sheogorath.”
The Daedric Prince’s expression faltered, settling on resignation. “I suppose it is.”