Molag Bal couldn't believe it. The fool really had overstepped his limits, this time.

"And enslavement of mortals is my sphere!" he hissed, hitting the table in front of him with a vigorous punch. "Oh, no, I'm not going to cover up for him this time. I'm sick and tired of bailing him out of troubles."

He could see Azura, in front of him, nod, and he was pretty sure many of the others Daedric Princes at that table were doing the same. Damn Mehrunes Dagon and his damned, stupid plans. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to regain some kind of composure. Sure, he had tried to conquer Nirn too in the past, but everyone did in the First Era. Well, not quite everyone, fine, but what he meant was that they had all agreed, once the Era had passed, that Nirn should be left (mostly) on its own. Arguing with pissed Aedras and possibly even more peeved fellow Daedric Lords at once was never pleasant, after all. And anyway, when he had tried to take over Mundus, he had at least the decency of not getting caught like a mortal child with his hand in a jar of honey even before starting his plans.

"Marvelous! Now that we all agree on that point, let's proceed. Mephala, thanks for your exposition, dear. HASKILL! More wine for our guests!"

The Madgod, their host for the meeting, hit the glass of wine in front of him repeatedly with some kind of fork and he ended shattering it at the third strike. The beverage inside retained its shape, while a bored Breton man, carrying several glasses of the red beverage on a silver plate, appeared beside the Daedric Lord and started to distribute them. Molag Bal had hoped that the new Sheogorath would be more bearable than the last one, but apparently there were requirements for being the Daedric Lord of Madness, and one of them was being extremely loud.

"Hey, nice trick. I should use that too in my parties, after a while all that spilled wine and beer gets annoying. Hey, wait a moment…where's Peryite?"

Sanguine's question was answered by a loud swear, coming from Hircine's direction.

"Dammit Vile, it was your job to invite him!"

"Well, excuse me if I have more to do than hunt some deers and I forgot!"

It was Vaermina's turn to slam her hands on the table, this time.

"Enough. We can decide how to deal with our problem even without him. Boethiah, Mephala, any ideas how to make Dagon pay for this?"

The two divinities shifted glances from their seats almost uncomfortably, before the former cleared his throat.

"Well, the plan was to humiliate him in some way. We thought we could use some mortal champion to stop his plans, but…"

The eyes of the Prince shifted on Sheogorath for a second and everyone noticed…especially the Prince of Madness himself.

"What? Do I have a slaughterfish in my teeth?"

Silence fell, along with a rather chilly atmosphere. Boethiah seemed…too embarrassed to speak? While Bal would have loved to use the occasion against his sworn enemy, the Prince's reaction could lead in only one way. He noticed that some of the other Princes had understood too, and that only increased the tension in the air.

"But what? Come on, we don't have all day." scoffed Malacath, in the end. Molag Bal resisted the urge to hit his face with his palm, of course the fool hadn't understood.

"…No more…suitable heroes to fit the role, I'm afraid. The last one that could have done it…"

It was Mora that had answered, but even him had trouble finding the right words, and that alone was a rare sight. They all knew Sheogorath's…origins, and they all know the mortal was gone, replaced by a god. No one questioned that, but still… it was definitely impolite, bordering to offence, remind him of his past. Still, it was difficult to stop staring at the Madgod, which in the meantime had just decided to nibble on a piece of…glass? Oh, dear.

"...Well? Speak!"

"Malacath, you're an idiot!" Nocturnal snapped, losing her usual cold demeanor. The tension and embarrassment were so thick they could have been cut with a blade, now. Azura opened her mouth to say something, only to be stopped by a gesture of the hand of their host.

"Oh, it's fine, dear. Mortality is a disease I'm glad I've healed from, and denying facts doesn't get us anywhere. I think there's nothing else to add, so…other ideas?" he said, with a little smile on his face and an unusual, but genuine, gentle tone. Molag was definitely glad of that intervention, and even more glad that the Madgod didn't seem to mind too much. Pissing Sheogorath had never been a good idea, like a lot of Princes there could testify. With the air becoming, metaphorically speaking, breathable again, more Princes seemed willing to talk again. Hircine was the first to do so.

"Well, we could always intervene directly."

Molag Bal shook his head slowly.

"Yes, that would work, but you know how he will react? He will say something along the lines of 'They only beated me because they were fourteen against one' and then promptly proceed to try again, and again, and again and fucking again. As much as I hate saying it…ugh…"

He took a pause, grimacing. Damn Dagon, he would pay for putting him in that situation.

"…Boethiah is right. We need a way to humiliate him, possibly in front of all the mortals of Nirn. Then maybe he'll think twice before doing something so stupid again." he said, in the end, trying to not look towards his sworn enemy, who was surely grinning mockingly before someone (probably Vaermina, she was the nearest) hit him, judging by his outraged "Ow!". Azura nodded again, an hint of a smile on her face. She was probably happy about her ally's newfound 'spirit of cooperation', but considering she had refused to speak to him for years because of something he had supposedly do to some of her followers…well, maybe she had 'forgiven' him? He would have plenty of time to discover it later, maybe with a nice bottle of Ambrosia and a seat for two in a balcony with a nice view of Coldh…No, scratch that, Azura had never liked his domain. He scoffed, trying to concentrate on what the other goddess was saying.

"I agree. Now, Mephala, I assume that he plans to kill the Emperor and his heirs, right? He can't possibly hope to invade with the Dragonfires still lit."

"Well, then it's simple. We use some avatars with almost no powers to stop the assassinations, and Mehrunes won't even know what hit him."

It was Azura's turn to shook her head, this time.

"That won't do, Namira. It would be the same as before: Dagon would think he had a stroke of bad luck and try again."

"Actually…that plan isn't that bad."

It was Boethiah that had spoken, a vicious grin on his face.

"Mmmh…someone mentioned sweetrolls? No? Anyway…you know something we don't. Come on, I hate surprises! What is it?"

The Prince of Plots was now basically gloating. Molag would have loved to smash a fist in his smug face, but sadly that would have to be postponed. He cursed Dagon once again, massaging his temple.

"The current Emperor has a bastard son, and his existence is pretty much a secret…at least for Dagon, anyway. He will eventually discover it, but for now we have the upper hand. We could still use an avatar so we can mask our involvement, 'fail' to stop the assassinations, make the invasion advance for a while and then support this man until he lights the Dragonfires again. I would really prefer them not lit, but I'm afraid it won't be possible. This would make it seem like the mortals made it themselves, maybe with the help of the Aedras, but it would still be a big humiliation for Mehrunes."

Silence fell in the room, all the Princes there pondering about the plan. It was Hermaeus Mora the first to speak again.

"It seems…feasible. So, which one of us will have this honour? I'm afraid I have…other matters to attend."

Others began murmuring as well, and even Malacath could have told that the plan was going to be a failure, because no one of them would have…

"Oh, well, it seems like I will be the one to do it, then. HASKILL! Prepare my suitcase! And my mudcrab shoes! Especially the mudcrab shoes. Oh and don't forget the trouts! And the pumpkin carriage!"

Sheogorath had stand up, barking increasingly insane orders to his servant, while everyone stared at him in a mix of disbelief and relief. No one expected him to be so eager to return to Tamriel, honestly, but they all hated the idea of assuming the guise of a mortal for more than the time they usually required to interact with their followers. If he wanted to do it so badly, so be it, concluded Bal.

"Oh, splendid! And you could borrow some of our artifacts, so we can mask your Daedric aura and reduce the chance you'll need to use your powers."

The relief in Meridia's voice was barely disguised, but her proposal was still good. Everyone agreed immediately, except Vile, that had tried to weasel out of the pact before being shot angry glares from almost all the Princes at the table.

"This isn't the time for your damned deals, Vile!" was the only comment of Hircine, still pissed about their previous exchange. Mora nodded (well, if the movement of his eldritch body's upper tip could be considered nodding), before speaking again.

"So it's decided. When Dagon will move to assassinate the Emperor, Sheogorath shall assume the guise of a mortal, and then shall assist this illegitimate son. We will all" and he looked straight to Vile "provide insight and artifacts, and we will obviously keep this gathering and our intentions secret. And someone please inform Peryite, even if we don't exactly need his help having him on Dagon's side would be ill-advised. Really, the fact that everyone insist to forget about him is getting ridiculous. Questions?"

No one had anything more to say.

"Then I shall return to Apocrypha. Farewell, Lord Sheogorath."

With that, Mora disappeared in a sickly green light, and more of them started to do the same. Some of the remaining Daedra started chatting, and Sanguine emptied his tenth bottle of wine. Molag Bal was considering the idea of asking Sheogorath, that had resumed issuing orders to his deadpan servant, about his decision, when a well-known voice came from his side.

"I was…pleasantly surprised by your behavior, Lord Bal. I was half expecting you and Boethiah to start fighting as usual."

He smirked, trying to not look too smug.

"Well, as much as I had liked to, we had more pressing matters, didn't we? Really, Azura, I'm not that petty."

She furrowed her eyebrows, crossing her arms. His slight accusing tone hadn't been lost on her.

"Even if I still resent you for turning my followers into vampires…That. Doesn't. Make. Me. Petty."

"For the hundredth time, it wasn't me. I don't control every single fucking vampire out there, and some of them are not better than beasts. Are you going to blame Hircine if one of your flock gets eaten by a wolf?"

She sighed, waving her hand in the air.

"Maybe you're right, or maybe not. But…" and her expression softened "if you can be civil, so can I, especially when my ally is involved. And that happened a lot of time ago, anyway, it's time to move on. Would you like to join me for a talk in Moonshadow? I believe we have much to discuss."

Score. He smirked, tilting his head in her direction.

"Sure. Lead the way."

The two of them disappeared in a bluish haze, leaving the other Daedra to their occupations. Sanguine sighed, before tossing away another bottle.

"I can't believe Azura liking that one…" he muttered, grabbing a nearby jug and emptying it in one glug.