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Apotheosis II	By : OneMoreAltmer Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Oblivion Views: 3007 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I didn't create and do not own Elder Scrolls: Oblivion or its characters (except for Tavi, within game format). I make no moneys.

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Four � The Scope of My
Desire

My last contract for Vicente was a disappointment.� He sent me to Chorrol with orders not to
kill, but to stage a false assassination for a man who was fleeing Cyrodiil
because of his debts.� The coward had
offered his own mother�s life in exchange for our help, and Lucien had already
collected.� I was to fake Francois
Motierre�s death using one of the poisons I myself had helped to invent.
�He sounds detestable,� I scowled.� �What if I were to use just a little too much
poison?� Accidentally?�
Vicente laughed.�
�Good spirit, but no.� Perhaps one
day his creditors will think to hire us, and you will be permitted the
pleasure.� Until then, Sister,
restraint.� Only
what the Night Mother sanctions.�
I arrived in Chorrol a bit ahead of schedule, so I took the
opportunity to visit the local Mages� Guild.�
They were happy to have a visit from the Arch-Mage, and celebrated by
holding a symposium.� Unfortunately, the
favored school of magic in Chorrol was conjuration, my least favorite for a
host of reasons.� I sat politely through
a long discussion about various methods of evocation; I tolerated a
conversation about different forms of daedra and when their help was most
appropriate; but then they asked me if I would speak about daedric cults and
especially the Mythic Dawn, on which I was now regarded to be an expert.
I responded with a heavy, bitter sigh.� �Gentlemen,� I started � for they all
were:� this was the most male-heavy Guild
hall in Cyrodiil.� �Apologies, but I am
not ready to discuss those findings tonight.�
The question comes when I am weary and ill-prepared.� And with all due respect, while I understand
your intellectual curiosity, given my history I am loath to discuss daedric
work with anyone who might feel any temptation to pursue it.�
�Understandable, though regrettable,� Teekeeus intoned.� Being expelled from the University for his feud with Earana had left him quick to bend with the
prevailing wind.
Alberic, the best conjurer among them, did not relent so
easily.� �I hope that our new Arch-Mage
does not share the common superstitions against conjuration as a school.� That the Mythic Dawn was a danger to the
Empire should not brand all of us as potential traitors.�
�Of course not,� I said.�
There was no point in telling them that I had, in fact, played briefly
with the idea of expelling the conjurers as my predecessor, Traven, had the
necromancers.� I�d seen the results of
that for myself, and practicality won out.�
My official stance would be tolerance, even if my personal feelings did
not match.
�And after all,� he went on, pushing forward while he had
the momentum, �many of the distinctions that we make in the spiritual worlds
are ultimately false.� The cultist at the
hidden shrine is no different, ultimately, than the chapel priest.� What is the difference, even, between aedra
and daedra?� Perception.� Intent.� Nothing more than that.�
�That,� I said a
bit less coolly, �cannot be correct.�
�No?� Consider
Meridia, who has been counted as both a god and a Daedric Lord, depending on
time and culture.� There is no evidence
that her real nature has changed.� So
which is she in truth?�
�She is an exception, and as you must know, the prevailing
story is that she fell into the grey realm between the two specifically because
of her fondness for certain daedra.�� And
that was a point that I, as the daedric lover of an ascended Emperor, was not
eager to explore further, so I moved on quickly.�
�Even more problematic,� I went on, �is your suggestion of
intent as the difference.� Intent so
seldom matches result in the mortal realm.�
I knew cultists in the Mythic Dawn who really believed that their
purpose was the perfection of the world, and they were no less harmful because
of that.� Consider the opposite
case:� a man might begin as a conjurer for
selfish reasons only to find that knowledge serving the gods later.�� I had best not linger here too long,
either.� �So our intent is hardly the rule to measure by:� it may be na�ve even to think that our will
exists in any meaningful sense at all.� And
the intent of a god or a Daedric Lord is infinitely more difficult to
comprehend.� How would we ever learn
enough to use that as our measure?�
�Do the lesser daedra themselves have will or intent as we
would understand them?� Athragar asked.�
�Traditionally we say not:� they
are bound either by some Daedric Lord or, temporarily, by their conjurer.�
�I�m not sure that�s entirely true,� I answered.� �There was at least one time that I
encountered a dremora who made a choice to speak to me when it served no one�s
possible purpose but his own.�
From there the conversation drifted back toward ranks of
dremora and their comparative uses, and I started to make noises about the
lateness of the hour.� No, I could not
possibly impose on the Guild to keep me:�
I would be perfectly happy at the Oak and Crosier.� Besides which � not that I said as much � it
would be much more troublesome to sneak out for a pretend-murder if I stayed
with them.� While the rest of us made
this polite talk about my leaving or staying Alberic slipped out of the room,
and I thought it was because he was annoyed with me about our exchange.� But as I was actually leaving, he came
halfway down the stairs and read something aloud:
�Let us now take you Up.� We will show our true faces, which eat one
another in amnesia each Age.�
�What is that?� I asked.
�The end of the Song
of Pelinal,� he said, snapping the book shut as punctuation.� �Although he was already dead, he is said to
have appeared at the deathbed of Saint Alessia to create the Amulet of Kings
and then carry her off to Aetherius.�
Many of us take it to imply the ultimate unity of the gods and Daedric
Lords.�
�That is a lot to read into such a short passage.�
�Pelinal himself rewards study.� He is accepted as divine by men and yet is
considered demonic by the Altmer.� A matter of intent.��
He blinked.� �I am surprised you
do not know this.� You are not only
Altmeri but a student of Ayleid culture, yes?�
Yes, I was, and besides that, the name of Pelinal caused
uncomfortable movements somewhere in the back of my head.� He meant something to my older, sleeping
self, and it was not something pleasant.�
But none of this was Alberic�s concern.�
�I was less a student than a pilferer, to be honest.� My interest was mercenary.�
I made as quick an exit as I could after that, annoyed at
the entire conversation and his human complacent self-centeredness in spiritual
matters.� What was the difference between
aedra and daedra!� It was the difference
between peace and strife; it was the difference between Aetherius and
Oblivion.� It was the reason I was doomed
by my nature to an eternal sorrow from which the nothingness promised by Sithis
was my only hope of rescue.
That was the difference, Breton!
Meeting Francois Motierre did not do much to improve my
mood.� Not only was he a sorry little
thing, he also preferred that I act out his fake assassination in front of a
witness whom I was then to leave alive.�
That was completely against both my training and my personal
inclination.� Dread Father, I was the
Arch-Mage, the Champion of Cyrodiil!� I
could not have rumors flying about that I had murdered someone!
My concern for my reputation did not strike me then as
ironic.� After all, Lucien had mentioned
my fame as a factor in my value, precisely because it raised me above
suspicion.� And now I�d been sent on a
mission that might ruin that.� I thought
again about �slipping� with the poison � no.�
That would be disobedience, a violation of the Tenets.
I sighed loudly, pulled my hood forward as far as it would
go to obscure my face further, and hoped for the best.� I stepped into shadows in a corner of the
room while Francois sat by the fire to pretend to be alone.
We did not have to wait long for the Argonian hit man to
arrive.� As he began explaining to
Francois why he was about to die � quite unprofessional � I stepped forward, my
poisoned dagger raised.� Francois made an
unconvincing noise about �Oh dear, the Dark Brotherhood!� and I slashed at him,
a shallow wound to his throat.� He had
asked for the chest, but this looked flashier and might scare him into silence
more quickly.� He crumpled to the floor
as the poison began to do its work.�
While the Argonian looked down at him and growled in frustration, I
slipped on my ring and fled the house.
There:� all that
remained was to pick up the body the next day.�
It was to be taken to the church undercroft to be prepared for burial,
as was the usual custom.� I thought that
disappearing from the undercroft was a stupid idea too � did he think no one
would suspect a trick in that case? � but this was the
plan he had come to Lucien with, the one for which he had paid, and I was honor
bound to complete it.
I needn�t have worried about rumors of me reaching the good
people of Chorrol.� The Argonian did not
see fit to wander the streets shouting that someone had beaten him to his
attempted murder.� For all I knew he
would end up taking credit for it himself, to his superiors at least.� Fine.� Let him profit by my work, if it meant my
involvement went unremarked.� I spent
another boring day inspecting the Guild hall and talking to Angalmo about
alchemy.
It was easier than I feared to set foot in the Chapel of
Stendarr, perhaps because he was the god of mercy, and I had stopped believing
in him.� In the undercroft I administered
the antidote to my poison � and then, while I waited for him to recover enough
to be able to leave under his own power, I had to put down the revenants of
several dead relatives outraged by his matricide.� His family had some members actually buried
on the church grounds.� Another stupid error in judgment on his part, as seemed to be his
habit.
The irony of being an assassin who wanted a man dead and
could not kill him was not lost on
me.
I escorted him to the place where his next hire awaited,
someone to smuggle him out of the country.�
Good riddance to him.� In the
morning I left Chorrol and circled toward Cheydinhal on the Red Road, staying at Roxey Inn rather
than going down into the Imperial
City.� I�d had quite enough of that.� If avoiding the city meant sleeping in a
shabby little room on a pallet, then so be it.
While I was still cleaning myself up, I heard my door open
and close, and whirled around to see Antoinetta, lockpick still in hand.
�How do you not get killed?� I snapped, lowering my glowing
hand and shaking off the gathered magicka.
�I don�t sneak in on other assassins usually.�� She remained relentlessly cheerful.� �Do you want to go down and have dinner?� I mean, if you have a change of clothes.� Probably shouldn�t walk around together in
plain view wearing the uniform, right?��
She grinned.
I didn�t understand her at all.� I looked down as kindly as I could from the
foot or more I stood above her.� �I doubt
I have anything with me that would fit you.�
�Oh, sure.� Well, anyway, I have this note for you from
Lucien, and he said to stay for your answer.��
She dug a parchment out from her cleavage, handed it to me, and stood
smiling.� I read:
Dearest
Methusiele.� I already know of your
latest triumph, and deeply appreciate your grace in dealing with such an
awkward situation.� Do not take my
absence as a sign of disfavor, as it grieves me to be too busy to visit you
myself.� Please avail yourself of the
bearer of this note with my blessings.� I
am sure you know some spells that will amuse her. � LL
Well, now.� I didn�t
understand him very well, either.
�What did it say?� she asked.� I knew by instinct and training that notes
from Lucien were private, but I was so disarmed by her total lack of subtlety
that I simply handed the note to her to read for herself.� She blushed a
little, but she was still smiling.

Giggling, actually.�
�He is so good!� she grinned.� �I
told him I liked you, and see what he does!�
Isn�t he sweet?�
I wasn�t convinced sweet
was what really leapt to mind, and I also wasn�t sure what to do with this
proposal, even if Antoinetta was willing.�
(Willing to do what, exactly?�
He�d mentioned spells.� I was a specialist in destruction:� I didn�t think any spell I knew would be the
right sort for foreplay.)
She was not a hesitant sort:�
she stepped forward and took my hands playfully, oblivious to any
possibility that I would refuse her, and brought them up to her lips.� The tip of her tongue danced along my
fingertips.� It was�strangely adorable.� She came up onto her toes and reached to pull
my face down to hers:� her kiss was soft
and sweet, and I could feel the rest of my skin waking up to the possibilities.
�I�I won�t know what I�m doing,� I whispered,
apologetic.� �I haven�t done such a thing.�� I was still trying to imagine what Lucien had
meant by spells.
�What, no girls at all?� Antoinetta laughed.
And there was that, too.�
�I don�t remember.��
�Pft!� Can�t have been very good,
then.� Here, help me out of this
armor.�� I did, and then, slowly, the
simple clothes underneath.� There were
freckles across her shoulders, and her skin was shockingly soft.� Her breasts were smaller and more pert than
mine, with large pink nipples:� she was
more rounded at her hips and backside.�
On impulse I also pulled down her braided hair and loosed it with my
fingers, letting it fall in dark blond waves.
I let her take my armor, but not my clothes.� She was pretty, and I was responding to her,
but that didn�t make her someone I trusted down to my skin.� She hadn�t � hadn�t earned that.� Hearing a thought so Lucien-like coming out
of my own head almost startled me out of the mood entirely, but Antoinetta
pulled me down into another kiss, and the thought was gone.� Instead I started thinking about how little
she was, and how much easier it would be to reach all the points of interest if
I were kneeling.� I dropped, taking hold
of her by the waist to keep her standing before me � and lingered a moment,
running my hands back and forth over her hips, allured by the smoothness of the
curve.� I rolled my tongue over one of
her thick nipples and pulled it gently into my mouth, and she leaned into me
happily, scratching the hair at the nape of my neck.
�Do you know any shock spells?� she whispered in my
ear.� I frowned:� I didn�t see any use in hurting her.� �Little ones,� she said.� I thought a bit, and pulled just the faintest
hint of magicka into my hand.� I gingerly
touched her shoulder, releasing a tiny jolt.�
She jumped, and then gave me a grin and a happy growl.
Very well, then.� I sparked my fingertips and drew them gently
across her, one by one, watching her spasm, listening to the hunger in her
throaty laugh.� The sound brought out
something predatory in me:� I wanted to
control it, to call it out further until it was a needful wail.� This must be why Lucien kept her when she
seemed so useless otherwise.
I pinched both her nipples and sent one last shock through
them, and she squealed as I puller her down to kiss me.� I held her in place with one hand as I
charged the other with the faintest hint of ice.� Once my fingers were cold I sent them down
through her patch of brown curls to the opening beneath them, and slid two
fingers into her, resting my thumb on her clit.�
She groaned and dug her nails into my back.� I grinned and refused to move again until she
was whimpering and gyrating over my hand.
Apparently I did know what I was doing, to some extent.� Had to
keep the other concubines quiet and off my trail somehow, after all.�
Just as she bit her lip in frustration I resumed, rubbing
with my thumb as I moved my fingers in and out of her.� She trembled and leaned on me for support,
and her weakness called my attention back from my other odd thoughts.� I left a series of tiny bites down the side
of her neck, smiling at her whimpers.�
All at once she gasped so deeply I thought she was going to scream � she
did not, but her whole body seized and then buckled, and she fell over me, and
I had to hold us both against collapsing onto the floor.
For a moment she sat there quietly in my lap, in my arms,
her head tucked against my shoulder.� At
last she spoke.� �Do you � do you want me
to � �
�No,� I said.� I
didn�t really like the girl, even
after being intimate with her.� This had
all been for Lucien anyway, I was increasingly sure.� He would be intercepting Antoinetta
somewhere, and making her report in detail what I had done to her, probably
while he was fucking her.�
And all that bothered me about it was that I had shown her
the note.
�No,� I said again.�
�You may go.� Give him my
regards.�
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Apotheosis II