Author's Notes:
Maria, the Hero of Kvatch, mantled Sheogorath whilst pregnant with the child of Martin Septim. That makes Sheogorath a Papa! Though, technically speaking, he’s actually a mother, but that’s neither here nor there! ANYWAY! What I wanted to point out was that this Sheogorath that I am writing is the Sheogorath we see in Skyrim, but more influenced by my Hero of Kvatch. He isn’t Oblivion!Sheo, nor is he entirely the HOK anymore.
Without further ado, it’s time for Papa Sheo and little Diana bonding time!
(Fanart by kittysproduce over at Kitty's Produce. THANK YOU KITTY FOR TAKING MY COMMISSION!)
The evening sun was setting in the sky over New Sheoth when Lord Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness, was excitedly telling his chamberlain Haskill of his wonderful plan to build a statue of himself out in the courtyard of the palace. He had been in a very artsy mood as of late and wanted to create something entirely brilliant yet also extremely disturbing. Haskill had been listening intently to his Lord’s ramblings and suggestions for potential statue designs for what felt like hours and was hoping that someone would come along and distract the Daedric Prince. He had looked to the Dark Seducer escort that stood guard on the left side of the throne for help but she simply stared straight forward, having mastered the art of drowning out Lord Sheogorath's incessant ramblings. Towards the doors leading out of the palace stood the royal healer as well as some elegant ladies from Mania awaiting an audience with their Lord. They had been waiting for well over an hour at least and their Lord had no intention of rushing his conversation with his chamberlain.
“So you see Haskill, I was thinking of making it entirely out of intestines and severed limbs! Harvested solely by yours truly, of course. It would be a work of art, Haskill! Art! The people of Crucible will love it! Oh, but I’ll need to make one for Bliss too. It could be made of flowers! Oh and mushrooms laced with greenmote. They go crazy for that stuff!” Sheogorath dramatically paced around the room as he spoke.
“Of course, my Lord,” Haskill nodded politely. “Your imagination simply knows no bounds.”
Suddenly, as though a power higher than Lord Sheogorath had answered Haskill’s secret prayers, a miracle had occurred! The wooden door leading to the House of Mania had opened and in came a little Nord girl with long frosty white locks, no older than four or five, dressed in a loose white blouse and purple trousers that were decorated with silver swirls. The pitter patter of little booties could be heard running towards them as well as a shout from a very flustered Golden Saint who chased after her.
“Lady Diana, come back here at once!” boomed the Saint with absolutely no effect.
As Sheogorath spun around to see what the fuss was about, he was greeted with a small tug on the sleeve of his suit. Looking down he saw the small child staring up at him, smiling sheepishly. Her hair was a little tousled and twisted, with a leaf and small twig sticking out of her white locks. He quickly scooped her up in his arms and spun around, causing her to erupt in chuckles that filled the entire throne room. The ladies that were waiting watched in wonder, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. The Saint quickly ran up to Sheogorath and bowed low.
“My deepest apologies for this interruption, my Lord. She escaped my sight for only a moment.”
Holding Diana close to him on his hip, Sheogorath stopped spinning around and turned to face the Golden Saint.
“Sweet Goldie, you should know by now that a moment is all this little Grummite needs,” he smirked.
Haskill sighed in relief at the sudden change of topic and smiled at the child in her father’s arms. His Lord patted down her locks, took out the random twig and leaf and booped her nose with his finger before addressing the Saint once more.
“Baby-sitting duties are over. Back to guard duty for you!”
“As you wish Lord,” she said as she bowed once more before returning to her station at the right side of the throne, but not before receiving a jealous glare from the Dark Seducer on the other side.
As if the Madgod had eyes in the back of his head, he spun round to face the purple-skinned beauty.
“You’re next on babysitting duties! HA!”
The Seducer stood dumbfounded, eyes wide in surprise, earning a snigger from the Saint. Though they might not like to show it, both the Aureal and the Mazken from all over the Isles took immense pride in looking after the daughter of the Madgod. They would play with her when she was bored and give her short lessons on how to defend herself. Some nights if he was busy, Lord Sheogorath would give the two escorts leave to take Diana out for a walk around New Sheoth, her in the middle of the two as each held the hand of the small Nord girl.
Sheogorath danced around happily whilst holding Diana and nuzzled his face in her hair, singing to her softly a song that made little sense. It always amazed Haskill at how well his Lord took to parenthood and at how focused the Prince of Madness could be when his little girl was around. He would always go into a world of his own, his full attention on her and her alone, ignoring everyone else besides perhaps Haskill himself.
“And what do we have here then? What can I do for you, hm?” asked the Madgod.
“Uhm...can you help me braid my hair please, Da?” Diana asked quietly, biting her lip slightly as she spoke.
Her voice was colourful and unusual like that of her fathers, but was more pleasant on the ear. Upon hearing her request, Haskill had to turn away from his Lord to hide his amused expression.
“Eh?” Sheogorath was bemused at his daughter’s strange request and he grimaced, unsure of how exactly to respond. “You want me, Daedric Prince of Madness, to…braid your hair? You do know what it is you’re asking for here, little Di? Do I look like a barber to you?”
Before the child could respond to his rhetorical questions, his voice lowered and he smiled mischievously as he continued to speak.
“I don’t braid hair; I braid paranoia into the minds of mortals. I braid bones and ligaments and make music out of them. I braid fear and obsessions, pain and addictions! I braid-”
“Bread!” Diana said excitedly, keen to finish his sentence for him, “Like the cheese bread with the onions! Wait no, you don’t braid that…”
“Sometimes I do! But don’t ask what else I put in it. That’s a secret!” said Sheogorath, hoping that the topic of food would distract her from her insane idea of him braiding her hair.
Diana lowered her big grey eyes looking ever so slightly dejected and puffed out her little cheek as she sighed. She knew her Da could do a lot of things but it seemed even he had his limits on what he wanted to do. Her lips wobbled a little at the realisation and couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to play with her. After all, all she wanted was for him to play with her even for just a little bit. Was that too much to ask?
Sheogorath sighed at the sight of Diana’s adorable and sad little face and found himself unable to say no.
“Oh, very well. Fine. Fine! I’ll do it!” declared Sheogorath; he’d grown bored already of discussing potential statue designs anyway.
He turned to face his chamberlain who had managed to regain his usual stoic facial expression.
“I’m off to attend to some fatherly duties! Deal with them won’t you?” he commanded as he gestured his head towards the ladies who were still waiting for an audience with their Lord.
“An honour to serve, my Lord,” answered Haskill, bowing his head slightly.
“Good! Right then my little sweet roll, off we go! Now say goodbye to Haskill,” Sheogorath prompted.
“Bye, Uncle Haskill!” Diana waved a little hand at the chamberlain before being carried off by her father.
“Goodbye and goodnight Lady Diana,” Haskill bidded farewell, bowing down even more so for the small girl.
As Sheogorath carried Diana all the way to her private chambers high up in the palace, he listened to her attentively as she told him of all the fun things she had been up to that afternoon. In the Halcyon Conservatory, she had been painting away happily and picked some of the most beautiful flowers that grew in abundance there along with bright, colourful funguses with the intent on learning to make potions. She also had a go at drawing her Aureal escort, and whilst the result was little more than a yellow stick man with very long golden hair, the Saint was very happy with the result. In the House of Mania, she and her Argonian friend Wide-Eye had enjoyed a delightful lunch of venison soup with freshly made bread and butter, succulent fruits such as grapes, peaches and strawberries, as well as fresh cups of tea with biscuits, sweet rolls and boiled creme treats to finish.
“No cheese!?” exclaimed the Daedric Prince, aghast at the apparent lack of such a staple food. Diana shook her head and giggled at her father.
Eventually, they made it to her bedroom where Sheogorath set her down and opened the wooden door, ushering her in ahead of him. Her bedroom was of modest size and had a stunning view out of a tall window of the Enjaen sea to the east. Each morning her room would be lit with the bright, golden light of the dawn which usually roused her from her sleep as it rose up past the horizon. Whenever she looked out of her window, Diana always wondered what was beyond that blue horizon. As the evening was really starting to set in and the sun was dying down in the west over the green hills of Mania, the sky was an amazing canvas of blues, oranges and reds, with stars and faraway galaxies beginning to twinkle and shine through. The clear sea below perfectly reflected them in its waters, making it seem as if there were two skies.
Diana ran over to her bed and plonked herself on the end, placing her hands in her lap and crossing her legs beneath her, waiting patiently for her father to tend to her messy hair. The warm evening light still managed to pour into the room, bouncing off of her furniture. Even so, the light from the ever-burning torches that dotted the walls would light up the room enough for when the night would finally set in. Her bed was small and was fitted with white sheets and a purple blanket, a stuffed golden teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck sitting upright on her pillow, gifted to her by Haskill. On the bedside table sat a small stack of children's books as well as a framed family portrait of Diana, Sheogorath and Haskill. The rest of her room was filled with chests of drawers with numerous beautiful outfits stuffed inside, bookshelves, a vanity with an ornate mirror sat on top and in the corner of the room sat an easel stand with a small stool where Diana would enjoy practising her painting.
Picking up Diana’s hairbrush and some silver hair bands from the vanity, Sheogorath hummed to himself in thought. With a wave of his hand, the mirror shot off from the top of the vanity and hovered in the air in front of Diana’s face. He stood beside her, looking down at her white hair and tapping the hairbrush against his face.
“And why exactly do you even want a braid anyway? Be a trendsetter and go for something entirely different. Something crazy!”
With a click of his fingers, the long white locks of the little Nord girl were suddenly changed. Her hair was now split into three sections with each one standing incredibly high and stiff like parts of a starfish.
Sheogorath put his hand on his chin, stroked his beard and pondered aloud.
“Hmmm…no, that won’t do!”
With a click of his fingers once again, Diana’s hair changed. This time the style was that of a mohawk. Though little Diana did quite like the look of it, her father shook his head in disapproval.
“Absolutely not! Too pointy. Although you could impale your enemies on it…”
Once more, Sheogorath clicked his fingers and once again Diana’s hair changed. This time, her locks formed into two spiral buns that swirled around her ears on either side of her head.
“Oh, classy. No, wait!”
Before Diana could protest, she soon found her hair had transformed once more into something else entirely. Long, white venomous snakes slithered around in place of her hair, covering her eyes and hissing in her ears.
Diana shook her head frantically and puffed out her cheeks.
“No, no, no! Not like that. A braid, Da! A braid! You know, like what the ladies wear. Please?”
Sheogorath sighed in defeat and snapped his fingers once more, returning Diana’s hair to its normal, messy state.
“Aw, but I thought the snakes were fashionable! Fine! If you insist. First, though, we need to be sorting out that hair of yours, so sit still! What were you even doing, child? Wrestling a Grummite? Honestly!” joked the Prince as he sat himself down on the bed behind her.
He used his fingers to gently take out some of the knots before he started to quietly brush her hair, humming to himself as he did so.
Though time passed differently in the Shivering Isles than on Tamriel, Sheogorath knew it had now been over six Tamrealic years since he had Diana. In those five years he had learned how to be a decent enough parent to the mortal child and to enjoy the more simple, mortal pleasures of life with her. As he just found out, simply sitting there with his daughter and braiding her hair was just as enjoyable to him as ripping out intestines. Who’d have thought that?
Unfortunately, any happiness that he felt at that very moment was rudely interrupted by an intrusive and most annoying thought. The image of an Imperial man had sprung into his mind, his smile soft and his blue eyes staring sadly yet longingly at Sheogorath. His skin was slightly tanned and his brown locks fell to his shoulders where they mingled with the furs of his royal outfit. The Amulet of Kings was wrapped around his neck and rested on his chest, taunting Sheogorath with its presence.
Martin Septim. The bastard son of Uriel Septim and the last true heir to the throne after the others had been assassinated by the Mythic Dawn.
Martin. The man who had once loved him.
No, loved her.
It was known only to Haskill who Sheogorath had once been not so long ago; Maria, The Hero of Kvatch and Champion of Cyrodiil.
Sheogorath remembered the way Martin had held her in his arms, how he kissed her, how he dared to dream of the future they would have together if all went to plan. How Maria would be his Empress and together they would help heal Tamriel. Unfortunately, the gods had other plans. Martin had sacrificed himself to take down Mehrunes Dagon at the Temple of the One, leaving Maria alone.
And unknowingly pregnant.
“Oh, how things have changed since then…” Sheogorath thought to himself, blocking out the thoughts as best he could. “Imagine if things hadn’t been that way. I wouldn’t be me, that’s for sure. I’d probably be doing what I’m doing right now, just not as me. It’d be the other me. The old me. That me. Am I still me?”
“Are you okay, Da?” Diana asked Sheogorath, concerned at seeing her father's mysterious smile disappear from his face through the mirror, “You look sad.”
Sheogorath stopped brushing for a moment and grinned at Diana back through the mirror's reflection.
“Oh, I’m fine! I was just remembering something! Nothing for your pretty little head to worry about. Now…”
He placed the brush down on the bed and looked back at Diana.
“A braid was it, madam?”
“Yeah!” Diana giggled, watching carefully as Sheogorath took some of her soft hair on the side of her head, separating it into three different strands.
“Now you pay attention, otherwise I’ll make sure to put those eyes to good use. I’ll put them in a soup and serve it to Haskill. First, you have to separate it like this… ” he began to explain whilst his fingers worked slowly, demonstrating to her how it was done by overlapping the strands over each other one at a time.
Diana nodded as she listened, feeling happy to be able to spend some time with her father once again. He had been very busy as of late and so had very little time to play with her. Usually, he would make time and take every opportunity available to be with her and play, or even have her accompany him when he went about his business in New Sheoth. The two often enjoyed having tea together in the gardens of Mania, where Sheogorath would tell her stories of his many bizarre adventures. The palace was also home to a large library where Haskill and his Lord would take her and teach her how to read and write in both the common Tamraelic tongue as well as the Daedric alphabet.
Diana was also familiar with Sheogorath’s more demented hobbies and interests, which usually involved lots of fancy magic and lots of blood. She would laugh as he would turn unsuspecting heretics into chickens using the Wabbajack or brutally rip out their hearts and intestines with his bare hands. Together they would skip rope with the entrails or Diana would take a heart or even a brain home to use in her art. Whenever Sheogorath went out to deal with troublemakers in the Isles, Diana would request he bring back a brain or two as they were just so...interesting. The people of New Sheoth often observed the two together and would sometimes talk about how unusual it was for a Daedric Prince to be so preoccupied with a mortal child.
“Oh, but they don’t know. They wouldn’t ever get it,” Sheogorath would think to himself.
There were many things that made the Daedric Prince of Madness happy: eating, dancing, drinking babies' tears, star-gazing, severing limbs, baking sweet rolls, ripping out intestines and skipping rope with them, listening to the minstrels play their lutes and drums, casting heretics and other troublemakers high up into the sky and watching them plummet helplessly to their messy deaths. But most of all, he thoroughly enjoyed doing all of these things and more with his child. Sitting quietly and braiding her hair was just another joyful activity of his.
When Sheogorath finished the braid and tied it with a hair tie, he presented it to her in the mirror’s reflection for her to see. It was a very elegant braid, tight and neat.
“There! What do you think of that, sweet roll?” he asked, feeling proud of his handy work. “Now you try on the other side. Fail at this and I’ll cut your fingers off and put them in a tiramisu. Forget ladies' fingers, we’ll just use child fingers instead. Delicious!”
Diana completely ignored his threat and her face lit up, pleased with how good the braid looked on her. She quickly got to work on the other side of her head, trying her best to copy what her father did for her. Sheogorath watched her try, correcting her when needed. When she was finished, Diana looked in the mirror and pouted her pale pink lips. Her braid was a bit sloppy and some hairs were jolted out of place.
“It’s not as good as yours…” pouted Diana, unimpressed with her own work.
Sheogorath leaned forward and took both the braids in his fingers, comparing them in the mirror.
“You’ll get there, little Di! Keep practising! Maybe next time we can use little slices of intestines to tie your hair with instead! How about that?”
Diana pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head.
“Nah, too smelly!” said Diana, chuckling slightly at the silly idea.
Sleepiness slowly crept in and Diana stretched her arms and yawned. The sun had now completely gone down and the evening sky had transformed into something truly ethereal. Nebulas and galaxies of stunning colours of pinks, yellows and blues shone brightly against a dark ebony canvas along with a multitude of stars that were now dotted all across the sky. On some evenings like this, Sheogorath would take Diana outside and they would look up at the stars together, seeing if they could find anything unusual flying about. She absolutely adored the night sky in the Shivering Isles. One time Diana swore she saw a flying grey machine with little green lights.
Sheogorath stood up and walked over to the window, admiring the sky for a moment before shutting the long curtain. The light from the torches lit up the room sufficiently, casting it in a warm, orange glow.
“Right then you. It’s bedtime!” Sheogorath told her.
“Aw!” Diana stood up in protest, “But I’m not tired ye-” she interrupted herself with yet another yawn. “Okay, maybe a little bit…”
“To bed with you now, you little Grummite!” Sheogorath commanded, standing his ground; no child of his was going to pick a fight at bedtime.
Knowing better than to not annoy her Princely father, she took off her little booties and cotton socks before throwing back the purple blanket on her bed. She puffed up her pillow and moved the bear into the bed before climbing in herself. Sheogorath gently tucked her and kissed her on her nose, his white beard scratching her skin slightly. Before he had a proper chance to walk away, she quickly sat up and reached out to grab his hand.
“Could you read to me a story please?” she asked sweetly, batting her long lashes at him.
“When will these demands end? Fine!” Sheogorath gave in and sat on the edge of the bed. “What kind of story do ya want to hear? Oh, I know! How about the one about Pelagius the Third? No! The one about King Lyandir. That’s always fun.”
“Hmm...Alice!” Diana requested, gesturing towards her stack of books where one rather unusual book was homed.
Sheogorath reached over and found the book she was after; a light novel with a purple leather covering and silver font on the front. The image of a cat with a peculiar large smile was in the middle of the cover, staring back at him with its large cat eyes. It winked at the Prince, though this didn’t come as a surprise to him. Many of the books in the Isles had moving book covers and moving paintings, too. However what really confused the Prince was the author’s name; it was entirely unrecognisable to him. For a story about a young, rich Imperial girl falling down a rabbit hole outside of Anvil and entering a land quite similar to the Shivering Isles, he thought the author might be from the Isles himself or at least be an avid devotee of Sheogorath. Talking rabbits, walruses and flowers, a murderous countess wanting to chop people's heads off, nonsense poems, nonsense winged lizards and crazy tea parties were plentiful in this book, after all. Yet he could not for the life of him recognise the name of the genius who wrote it.
The rest of the evening at the palace was rather uneventful. Lord Sheogorath read the story to his sleepy daughter, doing all kinds of crazy voices to suit the characters. Before long she drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a small smile still on her lips. As soon as he noticed she was asleep, Sheogorath quietly placed the book down and kissed her once more on her forehead, bidding her goodnight.
He tiptoed towards the door and before he opened it, he turned to face her one last time.
It was at this moment that Sheogorath had to do a double take and he let out an audible gasp. Standing at the end of Diana’s bed was the figure of a man who haunted Sheogorath’s thoughts and dreams.
Martin Septim stood there as quietly as the grave, observing his sleeping daughter like some kind of divine guardian. The Mad God’s presence didn’t deter him and it seemed as though he didn’t even know Sheogorath was there. He stood there and watched as Diana breathed gently, her soft face completely relaxed and oblivious to all of the troubles of the world. Martin did not move an inch and seemed content to just watch the sleeping girl.
Before Sheogorath could even comprehend the vision he saw before him, Martin disappeared and Diana continued to sleep soundly.
“Bah, another hallucination,” Sheogorath thought to himself. “A cruel one at that.”
He could not say for certain whether it truly was just yet another one of the Mad God’s hallucinations, but the pain he felt in his heart at seeing his former lover was certainly all too real.
“You missed out Martin. Pity for you.”
