[Rowena]

Don't worry, Rumple. We can wait a bit longer until you get your computer back into working order.

[Peter P Canning]

Don't do anything tragiiiiic! D:

You always make me feel better :hehe: Unfortunately, life has hit me with a cricket bat once again. Last week my computer power supply failed while I was doing a storage backup, and when I sent it to be fixed the verdict was dire - the entire harddrive has been fried and no data whatsoever is recoverable. I don't even want to think about what I've lost. Hopefully some of it will be preserved on my external harddrive, but until I can re-connect it I don't know how much. It's almost like having your house burn down or something; I had stuff on there from when I first started gaming at 10 years old.

Luckily I keep a keydrive with all my most important writing on it, so King & I is not dead - but it is a slightly older version, so some rewriting and checking is needed. I hope all my delays are not causing people to lose interest; it would be kind of heartbreaking this close to the end. Thank you for checking up on me, though, guys xx :hugs:

I will endeavour to get a new chapter out this week. Also I have to do some reading and reviewing of my own; Peleus' epilogue has been on my mind for a good couple of weeks now!

Ha! "Lose interest," She says.

I think I can safely say that before I got into this story, I was the kind of person who believed that anything was possible.

But losing interest?

In King and I?

Ha!

Ha, I say!

Rubbish!

You're not getting out of this that easy, Rumples!

Now, MUSH!!!

Humbly requested with the utmost respect, of course

[Alexander Horton]

:brokencomputer:

:banghead:

:blink:

oo:



:hugs:

[Kaley X]

Thanks so much for the support and commiseration, guys :hugs: You really are peaches, all of you. I have my computer back now but it's a long slow process of updating everything (I almost cried when I realised I'd have to painstakingly reinstall and test 250 Oblivion mods). Thankfully I had the presence of mind to tuck loads of stuff away on various private archives around the net, so some stuff will always be available even if my entire network goes down and my external harddrive catches fire and my usb key is swallowed the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal.

In the meantime, a short visual interlude! I've realised that Destri Melarg has actually had my number perfectly from the moment he wrote http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1055941-the-king-and-i-thread-ii/page__view__findpost__p__15635412, because http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v289/Rumpleteasza/Lame%20Art/GwynabythEadwryd.jpg sketch of ex-Gwynabyth and Eadwyrd has been in my folder for about four years now. I'd kind of forgotten all about it. Destri, you were right. I am a grisly Norman Bates. *sadface*

To make up for that, here is http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Morgiah/Morgiahhlaalu8.jpg

Love to you all! xxx

[Hot]

Yay, she's back! Dachshund dance (slow and arthritic, as befits a 20-year old dachshund). Hey, nobody ever said we had dignity....

Welcome back and happy rebuilding of your files. The rubber chicken still stands (well- sprawls) ready to assist.

[nath]

RUMPLE!!!!

WHY DOES MORGIAH LOOK LIKE YOU IN BRUNETTE???!!!???


:blink:


:laugh:

[Klaire]

Destri, you were right. I am a grisly Norman Bates. *sadface*

Ha ha ha, that's a sketch?! *sound of gnashing teeth.*

I never imagined you as Norman Bates, I said that you reminded me of his attitude at the end of Psycho. There was never a time when I imagined you in a house frock, wearing a gray wig, and clutching a butcher knife (although having just said that, you'll have to excuse me if the image now strikes me as. . .compelling, is that weird?). :hehe:

I am glad that your computer issues have been solved, but I hope you can forgive me for saying that I feel a sense of, well, relief every time I check this thread to see that you have not updated The King and I. Ever since you announced that there are only four chapters left I have found myself in a state of preliminary mourning. It is a condition that I enter whenever a particularly cherished novel comes to an end. I know that I can always re-read the entire story, but I also know that there is nothing like a first reading, and that there is a small acre inside my imagination where all the lamps will never shine as bright.

So while everyone else will tell you to hurry so that we can devour the last four chapters; I say 'take your time', 'what's the rush?' and 'aren't there some birds that could do with a good stuffing?' (Sorry, but now I can't not imagine you as Norman!)

To make up for that, here is http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t22/Rumple_teasza/Morgiah/Morgiahhlaalu8.jpg

Okay, between this shot and the earlier poses of Bomba, how do the men in your Oblivion get anything done? :hubbahubba:

[Mackenzie]

Short Answer: They don't. They sit around with napkins tied around their necks to catch the drool.

[Albert Wesker]

Don't you hate those darn cricket bats? [img]http://static.zenimax.com/forums/images/public/style_emoticons/default/comp26.gif[/img]

While I don't break into annoying, tactless poetry, I have been waiting and turning blue for the next installment! Thanks for the update, I shall take a breath and regain my color!

Don't worry, I'm watching for your next update!

Hey, that is the second person that said I was tactless and annoying!

Okay Foxy and Hauty...It's ON !!!! ROFL !!


* mALX pulls out pen and paper...thinks, "This will show them!" as she sits down and writes something even more tactless and annoying than previous posts *

[Rob Smith]

Hey, that is the second person that said I was tactless! And now annoying has been added! Okay Foxy and Hauty...It's ON !!!! ROFL !!


* mALX pulls out pen and paper...thinks, "This will show them!" as she sits down and writes something even more tactless and annoying than previous posts *

I may be wrong, but I believe they were saying the poetry itself was annoying and tactless :shrug:

[QuinDINGDONGcey]

lol forever at "bone" But hm, maybe you have this confused with another plot? I know people have posited juicy theories about the two of them, but there has never been a sixual element to Morgiah and KoW's relationship in this story. Indeed, she's only ever touched him once, when she took his hand to be magically transported to Firsthold to carry out the Bargain. As for love... well, you have to interpret it as you will. There is no doubt she has strong feelings, but as for what they actually are is anyone's guess. In her unconscious mind, their relationship could be a substitute for her estrangement from Helseth. Or it could be that she simply enjoys being in connection with so much power. Again, what he feels for her depends entirely on how cynical your view is; does he genuinely like her company, or is it all a game? Is she simply an amusing diversion for him? Would he be affected if anything happened to her?

But...I thought Helseth was upset that she shared with him...something that - wait, here is the quote:

In the deepest, darkest recesses of his heart, there was the seed of self-awareness that told him this ‘revenge’ was little more than a child’s jealousy. All these years, even with the tempestuous history of their youth, he had still thought of Morgiah as his own, his closest, his best. To think that she might have shared such a bond with someone else for nearly as long drove a splinter of jealous rage through his heart.

(post #59 on page 3)

It is Helseth speaking of Morgiah and KOW, I assumed someone was having...a..."bone" somewhere in that quote... - as did Foxy as I recall by his comment, lol.

[Jessica Raven]

Sure, but that doesn't have to be a sixual relationship. After all, her bond with Helseth is not sixual; he is her brother (although I guess I wouldn't put it past those wacky royal families, but I digress). I suppose emotional dependency is the issue here. Morgiah and Helseth had a fairly lonely upbringing, being dragged from place to place and growing up in a province where they are an extreme racial minority. Even with their dysfunctionality, it's comforting to assume that you have one person who is special to you, and I guess for Helseth, that was Morgiah, despite their estrangement. The mind can often twist memories into something more meaningful than they were at the time.

There is also the fact that Helseth doesn't know the full story. His own paranoia and jealousy is likely to blow the whole situation out of proprtion; he's in a delicate state of mind right now and the slightest little thing can tip him over. He doesn't know Morgiah and KoW have an intimate friendship; he is only assuming it by looking at things through his own screwed-up lens.

I'm rambling on too far again, but the bottom line is that there is nothing physically sixual going on between any of them. It's all mind games and intellectualism. If I'd had to write a six scene involving a five thousand year old lich, I assure you, you'd be the first to know about it

[Davorah Katz]

If I'd had to write a six scene involving a five thousand year old lich, I assure you, you'd be the first to know about it

ROFL !!! - I nearly choked laughing at that sentence.

Drat! For four full pages I have been thinking Morgiah and KOW... I mean, you must admit he is one of the most intriguing figures in the game, and one always wonders if he has ever loved, or felt anything for another.

To me, KOW had to really trust Morgiah to not be aware of the sounds, the different scents of Vivec and Helseth - to be trapped like that, he had to have let his guard down. - hence, he had to care for Morgiah more than he would usually let himself care.

Then, Morgiah's reaction to Vivec soul-trapping KOW seemed to me to confirm that KOW was the one great love she had as well.

Being the daughter of Barenziah (who loved deeply) it is hard to imagine Morgiah not having one deep love in her life.


Even Jagar Tharn had one weakness - Barenziah, and she was his downfall. I believe (based solely on your story) that Morgiah was KOW's weakness.




* This post has been edited to remove annoying and tactless parts, it used to be 1400 words long *

*

[brian adkins]

Give it a rest already!!!

All right. All right.

I HEREBY DECLARE THAT I TAKE IT ALL BACK!!! MALX IS NOT TACTLESS AND ANNOYING!!! GRR!!!

[Eire Charlotta]

[/b]


ROFL !!! - I nearly choked laughing at that sentence.

Drat! For four full pages I have been thinking Morgiah and KOW... I mean, you must admit he is one of the most intriguing figures in the game, and one always wonders if he has ever loved, or felt anything for another.

To me, KOW had to really trust Morgiah to not be aware of the sounds, the different scents of Vivec and Helseth - to be trapped like that, he had to have let his guard down. - hence, he had to care for Morgiah more than he would usually let himself care.

Then, Morgiah's reaction to Vivec soul-trapping KOW seemed to me to confirm that KOW was the one great love she had as well.

Being the daughter of Barenziah (who loved deeply) it is hard to imagine Morgiah not having one deep love in her life.


Even Jagar Tharn had one weakness - Barenziah, and she was his downfall. I believe (based solely on your story) that Morgiah was KOW's weakness.




* This post has been edited to remove annoying and tactless parts, it used to be 1400 words long *

*

Because I am soppy at heart, I actually agree with you And I love how you explain KoW's supposed emotional involvement as the reason Helseth managed to hoodwink him. I really didn't want to be explicit about Morgiah and KoW's true motives, though. Plenty of fantasy fans are NOT as soppy as I can be, and I don't want to turn TES into a harlequin novel. Of course just because there was no sixual element to the relationship doesn't mean there wasn't a kind of emotional attachment... if you can strip away all those poisonous political games and ulterior agendas to ever find it.

My goal was to keep their true relationship ambiguous so that each reader could put their own spin on it according to their preferences. Some might love the idea that they were both vipers using eachother for personal gain. But you, malx, prefer to see M and KoW's interactions and truly close and trustful, and that shows that you are a caring person and believe in happy endings deep down!

[Leticia Hernandez]

Because I am soppy at heart, I actually agree with you And I love how you explain KoW's supposed emotional involvement as the reason Helseth managed to hoodwink him. I really didn't want to be explicit about Morgiah and KoW's true motives, though. Plenty of fantasy fans are NOT as soppy as I can be, and I don't want to turn TES into a harlequin novel. Of course just because there was no sixual element to the relationship doesn't mean there wasn't a kind of emotional attachment... if you can strip away all those poisonous political games and ulterior agendas to ever find it.

My goal was to keep their true relationship ambiguous so that each reader could put their own spin on it according to their preferences. Some might love the idea that they were both vipers using eachother for personal gain. But you, malx, prefer to see M and KoW's interactions and truly close and trustful, and that shows that you are a caring person and believe in happy endings deep down!:lol:

I get the distinct impression that this bodes ill for an "up beat" conclusion, lol. http://www.danklyn.com/webstandards_talk/pix/MrBurns.gif

[Kim Kay]

Because I am soppy at heart, I actually agree with you And I love how you explain KoW's supposed emotional involvement as the reason Helseth managed to hoodwink him. I really didn't want to be explicit about Morgiah and KoW's true motives, though. Plenty of fantasy fans are NOT as soppy as I can be, and I don't want to turn TES into a harlequin novel. Of course just because there was no sixual element to the relationship doesn't mean there wasn't a kind of emotional attachment... if you can strip away all those poisonous political games and ulterior agendas to ever find it.

My goal was to keep their true relationship ambiguous so that each reader could put their own spin on it according to their preferences. Some might love the idea that they were both vipers using eachother for personal gain. But you, malx, prefer to see M and KoW's interactions and truly close and trustful, and that shows that you are a caring person and believe in happy endings deep down!

Guilty :blush:

[Rebecca Dosch]

My greatest apologies for not reading this fanfiction before! Whip me, hit me, yes even kill me for sinning! I will even run around Nirn twice to get you the artefact/s which you will use for killing me without stopping even once!

I am at chapter 28 after 2-3 days of reading (not sure which; time flies with your story!) and I am stuck!
The fantastic writing with the dialouges of the King of Worms (I just love that guy!) in Scourge Barrow and Nenya′s (I was a little heart-broken when she threw her helmet away...) absoloute slaughtering of those goblins for example! Wonderful!
And how you picture Elysana as that sugar-sweet little lady who gets just as she wants just by smiling and saying sweet words to those she likes...

The suprise when Gwyn died was total, never would I expect her to die! I really wanted a happy ending for those two...
And I really love how Helseth is in this fanfic! With his truly interesting schemes and plots and his spiderweb running across the world when another (bigger?) spider creeps in; who can it be? Is the girl with the ring the leader or just the servant?
And will Caius marry Nenya and have 8 small little rampaging children with big warhammers? Or will Nenya go off to Akavir like the rumours in Oblivion says (not likely since this fanfic isnt following the lore which appears when a fourth of the fanfic is written but who knows?)?

I am a little jealous on how Morgiah gets to visit the King of Worms while I am sitting here back on earth waiting for something to happen...
And when I heard the name "Gothren" heard first (pretty early in the story) I was really interested... Telvanni Gothren was supposedly killed by the Nerevarine while she was about to become the Hortator but did he survive? And how did he learn all that stuff about stealth? He seems to know some magic since he healed Caius after the Dren Manor incident but is it so much that he could be the former Archmagister? OR Solon could be the son of the Archmagister... That would make for an interesting thing... Who was the mother then I wonder? Just some wannabe from the slums? His Mouth (was the Mouth a he or she?)? Another Archmagister? So many questions!

Thanks for writting your fanfic!

EDIT: Oh... I have never thought of Ocato as the Eternal Champion... Interesting... But I must say that Ocato doesnt seem like the type of guy that killed Jagar Tharn and all that... He seems so arrogant and later in Oblivion a little naive! But still; an interesting thought!

[Amiee Kent]

I know why you are busy these days, Rumple...in fact I am preparing a poetic present for you, which will arrive quite soon...but when may we expect an update?

[Maria Garcia]

Haresus, thank you so much for your detailed reply! I'm really glad you're having fun with the story, and some of your questions are very interesting. The idea of Nenya and Caius with 8 little warhammer-toting littluns is so cute that I "awwed" out loud. As for Akavir... well, you'll get your answer. Although this story contradicts new canon in many ways, I have really tried hard to bring Oblivion lore into harmony with it with as much as I can. So most of these little issues will be addressed, albeit some in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way.

Your pickup on the name Gothren is also interesting - yes, I did mean to imply that Solon has connections with some rather scary Telvanni high-ups, but the nature of that connection is left up in the air. If Archmage Gothren was indeed his father, it's interesting to ponder what state their relationship is in. On one hand, Solon's ruthlessness is every Telvanni father's dream, but on the other, Solon shares none of the Telvanni's hatred of outlanders. It's a toss-up, and like so many things in this story, depends on your own interpretation.

I know why you are busy these days, Rumple...in fact I am preparing a poetic present for you, which will arrive quite soon...but when may we expect an update?

I apologise profusely for the delay! As for my busyness... May 15th is the big day, so it's all getting rather nerve wracking. I am so looking forward to your gift; hopefully by the end of the month quite a lot of my friends and family will have heard your poetry, Foxy!

[Danielle Brown]

double post. whoops!

[phil walsh]

As for my busyness... May 15th is the big day, so it's all getting rather nerve wracking.

Best wishes to you! I hope you have an amazing day

[N3T4]

Best wishes to you! I hope you have an amazing day

Second that !!!!

[Daramis McGee]

To Rumpleteasza:

With Foxy's poem I can't compete
Nor vie with Treydog's wish so sweet
I wish you love, joy, and laughter
On this day and ever after

With all my heart I wish to say...

Happy Honeymoon and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

[courtnay]

Ok, so... it's been a while.

I honestly didn't mean for the hiatus to carry on this long. The truth is I've been a bit tied up - I've moved house, left my old job, got married and been on honeymoon. As much as I wanted to, there was just too much to do before the wedding to make time for updates. Thankfully, you are all wonderful lovely people! Your good wishes have made me all tingly, wedding-related and birthday-related alike. I had a great day on both counts. xxxxxx

This is the quintultimate chapter. Things are hotting up. For all who have busy lives and can't keep track of ridiculous convoluted pieces of murder mystery fanfiction, here is a run-down:

1. Bomba 'Lurrina and Nenya are now convinced that Helseth's mysterious plan involved mobilising the derelict golem Akulakhan, although they are unsure their wild theories hold much weight with Morgiah. In fact, they are correct.

2. Solon, strangeley traumatised and re-emotionalised after the Dren Manor Fire, has gone a bit awol and seems to be forming plans to take Dren's place in the Cammona Tong.

3. Crassius Curio is in the thrall of the paramour Goldenflower, a supposed exile noble fearing the wrath of her rascal husband.

4. Morgiah and the King of Worms have reached an impasse as he grants her wish to bear witness to what exactly his hidden in the darkness under his hood. We, the reader, are not party to Morgiah's revelation.

5. A strange patron of the night-time arts has approached the Morag Tong with a writ for King Helseth.

6. His Majesty himself has utilised the skills of Vivec, along with the Aetheric knowledge of the crone Nulfaga, to ambush and soultrap the King of Worms in order to turn him into a Mantella, the Heart that will activate Akulakhan.

7. Unknown to Helseth, this "secret" ambush was critically witnessed by Morgiah, who was alerted by the sixth sense she gained from summoning Hermaeus Mora in her youth. Morgiah knows. Now what will she do with her knowledge?

Phew.

ONWARDS.



The King And I

Chapter Thirty-Five – Goldenflower And The Madness Of The King


Forvus Graccus dipped a quill in a fine silver inkwell, and reflected on the week.

It had been a most hectic few days. The provisions made for Ser Curio's new paramour (he supposed Goldenflower was a paramour? It was all a little odd) had thrown the regular business out of a loop as guards and supplies were relocated to her new manor. The administration, of course, had fallen to Forvus. He was proud to say that everything had been achieved with impeccable order. Ser Curio had been most appreciative – although, Forvus thought, his skin spontaneously flushing scarlet, the congratulatory pats on the backside had not quite been necessary.

There was a commotion in the entrance hall. Forvus looked up, expecting to see the blonde ringlets and fussing retinue of Ser Curio's newest distraction – only for his eyes to fall on a very different sight indeed.

She was blonde, certainly. But the mysterious Goldenflower would probably rather die than let her hair get in such a windblown mess, and her taste in fashion did not generally run towards full plate armour and warhammers that were the approximate size of a small child.

"Hail!" said the blonde apparition cheerfully, pulling off her gauntlets and tossing them onto the desk, making a sad ruin of Forvus' meticulously scripted letter. "Windy today, isn't it? Crassius about?"

The Nerevarine. Forvus almost fainted. "I'll. Um," he stuttered, trying surreptitiously to blot the leaking ink and succeeding only in spreading it over what little parts of the letter were yet unspoiled. "I'll fetch him, Sera. One – one moment, please…"

Before he could reach the door, however, it flew open to reveal Ser Curio himself, his arms open in an expansive gesture of welcome. "Nenya, Nenya, pearl of my Abecean Sea! Flower of my Colovia! Jewel of my Niben! O vision of Dibella herself, what miracles of karma could I possibly have navigated to deserve so bright and beautiful a presence? To what, my sweet pea, do I owe such unmitigated pleasure?"

"Hi," said Nenya, with exquisite unintentional irony. "How do?"

"Blessedly well, my dear, now that you have graced my halls. May I offer you some refreshment?"

"No, ta," Nenya said, attempting to flatten her hair and fighting a small battle with the legions of tangles that stood bravely against the tyranny of coiffure. "I'm not staying long. I've come to resign my Hlaalu position."

"Ah!" Crassius cried, clutching his briast as if wounded from some invisible arrow. "How came you to such an unhappy conclusion?" He tried shepherding her into the office, but gave up with the realisation that one hundred and fifty pounds of plate armour moves where it will. "Might I inquire why you choose to injure me so?"

"Oh come off it, you don't need me, I'm barely more than a mascot," Nenya scoffed. "Anyway, I'm not going to be in Morrowind much longer. I'm going back home."

"But surely your home is here, dumpling?"

"Do I look like an elf to you?"

"You are a vision of loveliness that traverses racial boundaries, my songbird."

"Okay," said Nenya, a 5'10 gangly pillar of dented Indoril with a hairstyle that looked like a small surprised haystack. "Well, I came to give my notice. I'm off to Skyrim before the month is out."

Crassius shook his head. "A sad day indeed. I will not hear of you being a stranger, do you understand? You must visit often, you malicious heartbreaker." He smirked. "I don't suppose you have told your little pet Sergeant? He will be devastated, you know."

Nenya bristled. "He's not a pet." She turned crimson in a rather good imitation of Forvus. "Actually, he's, um… coming with me."

Crassius' eyebrows shot into his hairline; he pressed his hand to his heart dramatically. "Most delicious forbidden fruit, tell me it is not so! Have you finally been plucked?" His mouth tipped into a roguish grin. "Do be sure to tell him I was there first, won't you? He simply loves hearing that."

He narrowly missed being bludgeoned by a rather heavy gauntlet. "Shut up, you lying old queen," Nenya said irritably. "If you're going to be annoying I shall leave."

Crassius held his hands up in a gesture of reconciliation. "I jest, pudding, I jest. Forgive a wretched man his fantasies." He waved towards the door of his office. "Come, don't leave me bereft. At least tell me of your travels."

She hesitated, then shrugged good-naturedly and followed him through the door. Crassius' 'office' was more like a lavish sitting room than any place of business – although of course, it depended on what exact business to which you were referring. Nenya flopped into an armchair, a rather difficult feat in an inch-thick cuirass.

"Now," said Crassius, closing the door. "Where to begin? Did you enjoy your travels to the West? I have sadly never visited High Rock. I hear it is most pleasant."

"It's a bit wet," Nenya said, casually stereotyping an entire province. "Interesting people though. I bet you'd like Bomba 'Lurrina, she'd flirt with you properly."

Crassius sighed. "Long years have I toiled to coerce flirtation from you, Nenya; alas, you remain impenetrable as the walls of Berandas. Perhaps Miss 'Lurrina will be more forthcoming. And what of the others you met?"

Nenya twisted her mouth. "Well, I can't really go into too much detail because I don't know how much Morgiah wants to keep secret, and we all know you've got a mouth like an Ogrim."

"You are so poetic, my dear."

"Aye. Anyhow, I suppose there's no harm in telling you we went to Orsinium. Amazing place, you should see it. The castle is all built of metal, I've never seen anything like it. And Gortwog was a treat."

"The Orc King? I've heard a great deal about him. Quite the politician, they say." Crassius crossed his legs, his face pensive. "So I suppose your main business was in Wayrest? It's next door, after all, and I don't doubt the Princess wanted an update on her old home."

"Oh no," Nenya contradicted. "That wasn't on the list. And well glad I am, too; after what Bomba told me about Queen Elysana, a thousand miles isn't far enough away for me."

Crassius frowned. "What's wrong with her? By all accounts she's a charming woman."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing, isn't it? Everyone thinks butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, but she's a live one all right. She's got this bitter grudge against Helseth; I bet she'd do anything to see him dead, even though they're on separate sides of Tamriel." Nenya leant forward. "You know what Bomba 'Lurrina told me? She got some poor sap on the Wayrest Council to fall in love with her to get his vote of confidence – then, when he withdrew because Helseth was blackmailing him, Elysana blew her top and sent him a cursed cloak that melted the flesh off his bones." Nenya made a face; the phrase had clearly made an impression on her. "Gruesome, eh? A fine pickle that'd be. All pretty gold ringlets and blue eyes and sweet smiles and then bam, no flesh. Now there's a lady not to get into bed with."

"For shame!" Crassius lamented. "And she sounds like such a pretty thing, too. I have a preference for blondes, I must admit–"

Suddenly he cut off, mid-sentence. His normally mischievous expression melted like a snowflake in summer; he looked as if he had swallowed a lemon. His eyes bulged.

"Um," said Nenya nervously, half-rising from her chair. "Do you… do you need a pat on the back or something? You've gone a bit… bulgy."

"Not necessary," Crassius gasped. "Beg pardon – indisposed – Forvus!" he roared, stumbling round the desk and yanking a drawer open.

The secretary in question crashed through the door as if his backside had been set on fire. At the sight of his employer's expression, he slowed to a gibbering halt.

Crassius scribbled furiously onto a piece of parchment, holding a length of sealing wax over the candle with his free hand. "Get all my free guards to Goldenflower's safehouse right away. One on every door, every window – no one goes in or out, do you hear? And that includes Goldenflower." He stamped a seal onto the hastily folded letter. "Give this to my head guard for authorisation. Off with you, at once!"

Forvus grabbed the letter and ran, clearly glad to be out of the firing range. Crassius collapsed into an armchair and put a hand over his face.

Nenya sighed in exasperation, unmoved by the sudden few seconds of pandaemonium. "What in blazes have you done now?"

"A small matter," Crassius said weakly, "I'll have it cleared up in a trice, truly…"

"You're a lying liar who lies. Who's Goldenflower, and why does she need a landslide of your personal guards? And what parent on Lorkhan's ashy earth would name their child Goldenflower?"

"A pseudonym… it only just clicked when you spoke of... Stendarr deliver me, how could I have been so blind?"

Nenya hefted her gigantic warhammer helpfully. "Crassius, I have sixty pounds of dwemer-wrought metal here, and it's getting introduced to your face in five seconds if you don't tell me what in Hoarfather's name you've been up to."

Crassius got to his feet, looking more decisive. "Put that monstrosity down, you irascible minx. You'd better come with me. I have a feeling you'll be needed."

"Come with – hang on, I'm sure we just had a conversation about me resigning. Or was that just wishful thinking?"

"I'll pay you a bonus. Come on."

"You know, this is exactly what Bomba warned me about," Nenya groused, retrieving her gauntlets from the reception desk and swinging her hammer back over her shoulder. "'You can't ever resign,' she said to me. 'You can't resign from being public property.'Well I bloody well can and will. You're lucky I'm such a nice per–" she cut off as Crassius grabbed her hand and practically dragged her towards the entrance hall. "Steady on! Where are we going?"

"We have a Royal appointment," Crassius said with an uncharacteristically nasty smile.


*


The Master Dreamer hadn't come. Helseth could hardly believe his eyes.

No-one had ever refused his summons before. The subordinate cultist who had come to Vivec in his stead was clearly uneasy with the situation; in fact, most people seemed to be uneasy in Helseth's presence these days.

"The Master is… indisposed, your Majesty."

"Indisposed? Indisposed? This is the most important, the most critically delicate stage of the entire operation, and he is indisposed? What in blazes is wrong with him?"

The cultist twisted her mouth. "We are not sure, your Majesty. He seems to be exhibiting… negative effects."

Helseth's lip curled. Fyr. Thank the divines he had waited for the elixir to be tested before drinking it himself; Akatosh knew what might have happened. He should have known that crackpot wizard wouldn't live up to his reputation; when would this all end? It was like he was fighting a tide. First Dren, then the assassins, now the Master… "Can we proceed without him?"

The cultist looked relieved to be able to deliver good news for once. "In theory, your Majesty, yes. In fact, everything is already in place. The Totem and Mantella are complete. We only await your arrival at Red Mountain."

A thrill of excitement surged through Helseth. Ready, and before schedule! Perhaps, through all the incompetencies and mistakes and near-misses and years of planning, waiting… that it was all within reaching distance at last. To rekindle the Dunmer pride, to be an Emperor…

Suddenly absurdly jovial, he stood and opened the cupboard behind his desk. "Excellent! Most satisfactory. You and your kind will not be forgotten when this project is successfully completed, I promise you that." He poured two glasses of sujamma. "A toast? To revolution!"

The cultists' lips curved upward, clearly caught by the exuberance of Helseth's words. She accepted the glass, standing with formality. "By all means. To revolution! And to you, your Majesty."

Looking back, it was sheer luck that she drank her glass first. Perhaps he was unconsciously on the alert now, but at the first stiffening of her limbs he froze, his own glass millimetres from his lips.

When she sank to the floor, her face purpling, a mist drew down over his eyes. Not again. Not again. NOT AGAIN.

This time he said nothing. He did not shout for help. He left her dying on the floor. From his study, he retreated to anteroom, turning the key behind him. He passed through into the bedchamber, and dragged a wardrobe in front of the entrance with the unnatural strength that comes from utmost desperation.

Then he broke.

Dren dead, taking his carefully-prepared spy network with him. The Dreamer Master sinking into deformity and madness, the glorious prospect of Fyr's elixir snuffed out in an instant. The assassins – Arkay damn it, the assassins – the Necromancer King was dead! His soul was entombed in an inescapable prison! So why were they still coming after him?

A seed of doubt germinated in his inflamed mind; perhaps, after all, the monster had not bewitched Morgiah to send the assassins…? But then who? He was not only fighting an enemy he couldn't see, he was fighting an enemy who was everywhere!

He leant over the desk, clutching the edge so hard the wood cut into his palms. His head was swimming.

Morgiah.

He had no idea how much she knew, but every time he thought he was one step ahead, she appeared before him. He was sure she knew about the King of Worms' disappearance, and that he was the culprit – but he didn't understand why or how. There was just no time for her to have known – Vivec, the window from Aetherius – there was no way! Yet she had somehow been warned, and had seen what had so crucially needed to be hidden from her. He didn't understand. Morgiah had always been clever, but so was he. They were equal. What had happened to give her this edge? How did she somehow know when things were going to happen, or what people were thinking? What had changed, what had happened to put her ahead of him?

"Dagon take it!" he screamed, hurling a wine-glass against the wall. "I don't want this! I don't want this!"

He couldn't see anything except a haze of red, he could hear only the ringing in his ears, but he could feel his fingernails splitting and his skin bruising as he tore books from the shelves, upturned the desk, thrashed at the couch again and again until the fabric was shredded and spotted with his own blood…

When it was over he curled up in the centre of the ruined room, cradling his shaking wounded hands, and sobbed.


*


In Vivec's Hlaalu Canton, the supplicant Goldenflower enjoyed the impenetrable safety of one of Crassius Curio's most secure manors.

She had not left the house for almost a week now, but although the confinement was irksome, she knew she must wait. She had done her part, now she just had to sit back and be patient.

She gazed into the mirror, adjusting the draqe of her artfully-placed golden curls. It was so dull playing this waiting game, with only Crassius Curio's puppydog devotion to break the monotony – and really, he was becoming a frightful bore. Men always did after the first flush. It was vexing that she'd had to utilise him in the first place, but the tedium of his affection would be worth it once the next stage of her plan came to fruition.

She had known from the start that exploiting the rocky relationship between brother and sister was the key. Really, they had done most of the work for her. She had always maintained that these Dunmer had nasty tempers; it had been a small matter to take advantage of what was already there to create an impenetrable rift. The intentionally unsuccessful poison attempts had been the icing on the cake; oh how she longed, longed to have seen the looks on their faces! When they had all but destroyed each other, all she would have to do was mop up the pieces.

Her hand went to her ring, twisting it round and round on her slender finger.

She had often wondered how much of her political success could be attributed to this thing. She liked to think it was an enhancement, nothing more. She was certainly charming enough to reach these heights on her own; it was just… insurance. Her lip curled. The amount of times she'd watched those wretched siblings disappear into the treasury passage all those years ago at home; did they really think she hadn't noticed? She'd made her own explorations. For all their supposed intelligence, they hadn't found anything like this. Sweet but dim, wasn't that what they had called her?

Oh, she had waited so very long for this.

There was quite a lot of stamping and shouting going on outside. She frowned, rising from her dressing table and sweeping into the hall. She could see shadowy silhouettes gathering outside her window.

One of her guards was standing by the front door as usual; Crassius had really laid it on thick for her. She threw the man a dazzling smile and reached out for the door-handle.

The guard stepped in front of her.

She stopped, nonplussed. "Is something wrong?"

"Ser Curio's orders, ma'am," the guard said apologetically. "No-one's to enter or leave, not even you. Security breach or something."

She laughed, a tinkling sound like falling silver. "Don't be absurd. I want to see outside." She made to brush past him, but to her astonishment, his hand closed around her wrist.

"Sorry, ma'am," the guard said stoically. "Nothing I can do."

She shook him off, an unexpectedly ugly look clouding her features. It was only visible for a second, but the guard stepped back in alarm at the disturbing change. Goldenflower immediately became contrite.

"Of course. Ser Curio is only concerned for my safety, I am sure." What imaginary threat had the old fool dreamt up now? It was most disconcerting that she was trapped in this place. "I would be grateful to know the reason for my confinement, though," she demurred. "Perhaps you will be good enough to carry a request for Ser Curio to come and visit me?"

"He's coming now, ma'am, by all reports," the guard reported, clearly glad that her black mood had not lasted. "Be here in no time at all – in fact," he continued, peering out of the window, "I think he's just arrived."

It was indeed him, and to her surprise and annoyance, he was not alone. Some towering lank of a Nord accompanied him, most unflatteringly sporting heavy armour and a tangle of yellow hair that was about as similar to Goldenflower's honeyed locks as a donkey is to a thoroughbred.

"Ah, my lady," Crassius greeted jovially as the door opened. She did not like the unctuous tone of his voice. He gestured to the Nord woman. "I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting my companion?"

There was definitely something odd going on here. The presence of the Nord unnerved her; there was something in her plain placid face that made Goldenflower think it would be very, very hard to work her. She had never liked the company of women; they tended to be less receptive to her charms.

Nevertheless, she rose to the occasion grandly, holding her hand out and arranging her features into a winning smile. "Enchanted, to be sure." The Nord woman's grip was like a man's, firm and unyielding.

"My dear," Crassius smiled at her, "this is Nenya, the Nerevarine."

She barely had time to process this startling revelation before he continued:

"Nenya, I am delighted for you to meet Elysana, Queen of Wayrest."

Elysana froze like a statue of ice.

"Seize her," Crassius said softly.


*


On the steps of the Hall of Wisdom and Justice, they brought the exile queen to kneel before the Dunmer king.

"I thought we were taking her to Morgiah!" Nenya hissed out of the side of her mouth as Elysana, née Goldenflower, was forced up the stairway. "Do you have any idea how much trouble this is going to cause?"

"One has to cover one's bases, dear. After all, Helseth may yet win out, and if he does, I would rather stay in his good graces. And in any case, it'll make for a rather juicy show, won't it?"

Nenya looked like she was about to hit him. "I hope Morgiah flays you alive," she fumed. "Bloody politicians. I hope they all choke, starting with you. Thank Stendarr I'm resigning."

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," Crassius replied absently. He was not really listening to her; he was watching the proceedings with a calculating eye. A gaggle of curious citizens were already stopping in the plaza below to watch.

Crassius' guards were trying unsuccessfully to make Elysana kneel; none of them seemed to want to hurt her. Finally an Ordinator stepped forward and thwacked her behind the knees. She collapsed with a yelp of outrage, glaring at him murderously.

When Helseth emerged into the evening sunlight, the now-substantial crowd suddenly quietened. Even the least intuitive among them could sense that the air between the King and this woman had condensed to a thick, boiling miasma of hatred.

Helseth drew his hand up, and brought it across Elysana's face with a backhand crack that split through the plaza like thunder.

The entire crowd saw her stagger. For a moment, she gasped on the stones. Then she brought her stunningly blue eyes to meet his burning red ones, and if looks could kill, they would both have withered to dust.

Helseth's face was twitching with passion. "I will see you dead for this. I will see you suffer. You think queenship of a pitiful Iliac Bay city-state will grant you immunity next to the sovereignty of Morrowind? Did you think, perhaps, that with your cringingly ineffectual assassins you might replace me? These people will spit on your corpse before they see a Breton rule Old Resdaynia. I gave you Wayrest. You should have been grateful I didn't open your throat back then."

An ugly red welt was rising on her cheek, but she played it with a pious expression, holding her head so the crowd could see the damage. "Your Majesty knows I am innocent of any crime he might choose to lay against me," she rang out clearly. "I came to visit a once-beloved step-brother, no more. And if I am not mistaken," she said more softly, "Wayrest was mine long before I ran you off my land like a mongrel with its tail between its legs. It was mine before you were even born. Do you think I have no friends, brother dear? Think very carefully before you seek to harm me. My allies would be most aggrieved; many still remember you, you know. How could they forget? Such a sour, incompetent travesty of a prince was a regular source of amusemant to us all."

Helseth went for her.

He seized the mass of golden hair before she could move and was yanking, tearing at it from the roots; Elysana shrieked in distress, but her own hand was sneaking up towards his eyes, fingernails bared like talons… Helseth was screaming that he wasn't her brother… the crowd was howling with disbelief, delight, scandal, fear…

And Nenya was there like a shot. In a second she had them apart, Helseth wide-eyed and panting, Elysana sobbing piteous ladylike tears. The Nord stood between them like a wall of Indoril.

"How dare you!" Helseth spat at her, incandescent with rage. "How dare you lay a hand on me? Nerevarine or not, I'll have your head, you filthy–"

Nenya was white. The crowd shrieked incredulously; Nord she may be, but the Nerevarine had destroyed the Blight Disease and delivered them from their most feared enemy. Helseth was King, but still a new one, and an outlander at that. There was no question whom they would stand behind if push came to shove. In one moment, Helseth had snuffed out forever the love of the people he so desperately hoped to win.

"Get him away from here," Nenya hissed at the Ordinators, who bundled Helseth through the doors at once. She indicated Elysana, who was still weeping prettily. "And take her to the cells – no torture, or you'll find your face on end of my hammer."

She turned to Crassius, and for a moment she was truly terrifying, all the casual joviality of her personality replaced by the age-old, iron-cold fury of Nerevar. "I hope you're satisfied," she spat, towering over his shocked and frozen form. "You can handle the mob. Because it is a mob now. Enjoy yourself."

She disappeared after the Ordinators. Crassius Curio turned slowly to face the plaza, and the crowd bayed like starving wolves.


*


In the empty rented apartment in Almalexia, Eadwyrd Greenhart sat by the dying fire. It was the only illumination in the room.

His cloud-grey eyes were flat and blank as they stared into the grate. Twistedly, excruciatingly, he could think of nothing but Gwynabyth – her warmth, her kindness, her goodness… such a contrast to his own coldness now; such bitter irony.

Slowly, he began to pack things into his satchel-bag with mechanical movements. It was still half-full of the supplies Morgiah had given them for their trip to Tel Fyr. He didn't bother to empty them out, merely crushing the rest of his belongings on top.

There was one thing left to do. The dangers and absurdity of the scheme were of no consequence to him – what was the point? His life meant nothing now. The idea flared in his head like a brand, the only thing that held meaning any more.

He could use the Mages Guild transport again, but this time come out near the now-defunct Ghostgate. From there, he would go on foot.

And after that – well, it would not matter. This was the last task.


*
*