Through Dangers Untold

"But what no one knew is that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers. So one night, when the baby had been particularly cruel to her, she called on the goblins for help!

'Say your right words,' the goblins said, 'and we'll take the baby to the castle, and you will be free!'

But the girl knew, that the Goblin King would keep the baby in his castle for ever and ever and ever, and turn it into a goblin! And so the girl suffered in silence. Until one day, when she was tired from a day of housework, and she was hurt by the harsh words of her stepmother, and she could no longer stand it... "

1

The Dragonborn was not quite the most powerful being in Tamriel; but she was probably a close second. Second to something ridiculously powerful like Paarthurnax or the Thalmor. In some circles she was known for her arcane knowledge- in others she was known for shouting World-Eaters into oblivion and general bad-assery. She was a Hero. The sort of Hero you went to when the world was falling about your ears and you needed someone who knew how to fix it. The sort of Hero you went to when the Companions were too expensive. Erm…

In any case, she was not the sort of woman that could be described as Motherly, Maternal or Good With Children. The words that came to mind when describing Amelie were more along the lines of Aloof, Scary and Not to Be Crossed. And yet despite not having any children, or previous experience unless Lydia and Farkas counted, she had somehow become the Babysitter of Whiterun.

Honestly. She would have rather been the Resident Gods-Anything-But-That- she would have rather defeated Alduin again! She would have preferred being The Resident Beggar! The Resident Religious Fanatic! Alas, those positions within Whiterun had been filled.

As the sun began to set over the Hold, Amelie began preparing to baby-sit and set to work hiding away all of her valuables. She stowed away her silver cutlery, her poisonous herbs, spell books and invisibility potions. She had learnt quickly after her first attempt at babysitting, which her housecarl referred to as "The Night Mila turned Invisible Before Accidentally Poisoning Herself." Out of earshot of Carlotta, Mila's Mother, of course.

Her housecarl was uncommonly excitable that evening. Amelie was almost regretting letting her go to the Bannered Mare for drinks with her beefy Nord beau. She would much rather go for a drink herself and let Lydia look after squalling brats. It would be good practice.

"Thanks so much for the night off," Lydia called from her bedroom, as if sensing her Thane's thoughts and instinctively guilt-tripping her. "But are you sure you'll be okay with Kodlak and Mila?"

She stood at the top of the Breezhome stairs, looking down at her Thane expectantly.

How could she say no to that question? Her pride was on the line! It wasn't fair using something so substantial as her self-worth as an incentive…

"I'll be fine," Amelie replied bracingly and used a chair so she could deftly pace all her paralysis poisons out of reach. A sharp ebony dagger, enchanted to absorb health, was placed with it. She glared at Lydia as she hopped down from the chair as if daring her to make a jab about her height.

"I know you don't see eye-to-eye with Mila," Lydia continued with an impressively straight face, smoothing the folds of her dress. It was probably the cleanest clothing she owned, and the least worn. "Or Carlotta…"

"Take that off," Amelie snapped brusquely. "It makes you look cheap."

"It's tradition," Lydia huffed back at her, but unclasped her Amulet of Mara all the same. "It cost me two-hundred septims!" Ah, there was the scowling housecarl she remembered!

"It's a tacky tradition," Amelie continued critically, casting her eyes about Breezhome. Hopefully there was nothing dangerous left out that children could get their hands on. Satisfied she turned to face her housecarl. "I took a necklace off a Khajit Bandit I killed this morning. It's in my dresser. Use that."

The smiley, excitable Lydia returned. "Generous of you, my Thane!"

"Back straight," she grouched at her. "I doubt Farkas wants to propose to a sack of potatoes."

And they were back to scowling housecarl. A straight-backed scowling housecarl. Amelie knew about things foreign to your common Nord, such as etiquette and posture, being from a centuries old Breton family that communicated wit and grace with every deed. Of course, that was if you asked her. If you asked Athis of the Companions you might get the opinion "stuck-up", for example. Amelie preferred the term "good posture".

Bloody everyone was getting married and having babies, these days. Amelie didn't understand why Nords felt it necessary to breed so extensively, and repeatedly. Frankly, it was a little disgusting, but she supposed when you survived a bloody civil war and the End of the World you might feel the need to have children sooner rather than later.

Carlotta was pregnant with her second child by the new Harbinger, rumour (Lydia) had it. People still gossiped in the marketplace over the elopement of Jon Battle-Born and Olfina Gray-Mane that had happened just after the Battle of Whiterun where the Imperials had fought off the Stormcloaks. Even Ysolda had managed to bag herself some travelling battle-mage from Riften, though Amelie could not see why anyone would want to marry the woman- she was as boring and common as tundra cotton and yet not half as useful. Amelie was known for being Great not Sociable.

Oh! That reminded her! Amelie hurried over to her Alchemy Room and locked it tight. She kept Sanguine's Rose inside there, and the Staff of Magnus. She was not having a repeat of "That Time Mila Summoned a Bloodthirsty Daedra into the Living Room."

Where had Lydia gotten to? Probably upstairs admiring herself in the new looking-glass that Farkas had bought her. Bah. In Amelie's heart of hearts she secretly hoped the ice-brained Companion wouldn't propose to her housecarl tonight, even though everyone and their mother knew it was happening. Couldn't he propose to Lydia after Amelie was done with her? Once they'd had all their adventures? It simply wasn't fair.

Now the Dragonborn was brave, but she wasn't foolish; she didn't intend on getting married for at least another five years. Perhaps she would return to Daggerfall and marry a nice rich courtier. Or if she could find an Altmer mage that wasn't completely in love with himself, she certainly wouldn't complain. She remembered a clever Destruction Tutor from her youth, an Altmer, who could do the most enchanting things with his-

"AUN-TEE-DRA-GON-BORN!"

"Magic staff!" Amelie snapped, irritably. "I was going to say magic staff!"

Lydia had warned her that there wasn't to be a repeat of "That Time Amelie Told Some Very Inappropriate Things to Mila."

She looked helplessly down at her cup of Black-Briar reserve and sighed in defeat. It joined the ebony dagger and bottles atop the high shelf but not before Amelie firmly reminded herself which was poison and which was booze. She remembered only too well the second-to-last attempt at babysitting- what Lydia referred to as "The Night Amelie Accidentally Poisoned Herself and Carlotta's Husband Tried to Rescuscitate Her." Carlotta still got a bit sullen whenever the event was mentioned and it was surprising how deep and unflattering a shade of red the Harbinger could blush.

There would be no such shenanigans tonight, the Dragonborn swore to herself.

Lydia rose her eyebrows in a way that said 'Don't You Dare Get Drunk in Front of My Friend's Children!' before she opened the door. Amelie returned the look and licked the last of the mead from her lips. It was the last taste of it she'd have before Carlotta returned to pick her little brats up.

Kodlak, Carlotta's youngest barrelled into Breezhome and made a bee-line for the Alchemy Room. He kicked the door when he realised it was locked and almost immediately began to slide over to Amelie in a sly, solicitous manner. Mile Valentia followed at a more subdued pace with all the charm of a rotting skeever. To Amelie's eyes. The offspring were followed by their smiling parents and the door was shut against the oncoming cold of the night. Breezhome was suddenly crowded.

"Aunty Dragonborn," lisped Kodlak, four years old with a head of bright red curls like his father's.

"Thane Amelie," said Mila Valentia, imperiously.

Little runt, Amelie smiled at her cheerfully. Carlotta's eyes flashed at her for a brief moment before she turned to Lydia.

"Ready for the big night ahead?" she teased. Lydia did that horrible thing where she smiled too widely and nodded.

"Just let me grab my shoes," her housecarl replied and bounded away to her room again.

"Posturing!" said Amelie. Mila Valentia spotted the last sweetroll on the table and went straight for it.

"Miss Amelie, please may I have this sweetroll?" she asked in a sweet, syrupy voice. Her mother went all starry-eyed and cooed over how polite her little girl was; even as her son demanded that he should have half.

The sneaky little runt had known it was the last sweetroll, for sure. She could see it in Mila's greedy, beady little eyes. Oh, she may have fooled the sheep with her innocent tales of helping out her mother at the fruit and vegetable stall, but not Amelie! Oh, no! Amelie knew that beneath the thin veneer of innocent childhood there lurked the cunning of a queen among thieves. How could any decent person refuse such a sweet little image? Had Amelie mentioned how it wasn't fair? She watched the little monsters devour her pudding with a smile as friendly as a Hargraven's howl.

A silence permeated the room and begged to be filled with meaningless small talk. Amelie was loath to answer it. It was the Harbinger, Bjorn, who obliged.

"Mighty generous of you to give Lydia the night off," he began, haltingly. "I know you can find Mila and Kodlak a bit of a handful."

"Yes," said Amelie, before remembering her manners. "I mean, no. Not a handful! They're positively darling in my opinion, I assure you." She watched Kodlak poking at the Alchemy Room lock with narrow-eyed suspicion.

Bjorn swallowed. "And for baby-sitting Mila and Kodlak... We might not have been able to go if Lydia hadn't told us you had offered."

Revenge for making her carry all thet Dwemer scrap home, no doubt... Not that Amelie much liked parties at the Bannered Mare. She was more of a sophisticated sipping-wine-at-home type.

Carlotta said something in a sickly-sweet voice. It was a tone solely reserved by angry wives for husband who did things they disagreed with: such as hire disreputable babysitters. Lydia had practiced hers upon Amelie many times in preparation of ensnaring Farkas, no doubt.

"What was that, my love?" asked Bjorn with a heavy sigh. The relationship was obviously strained by the Harbinger's long hours and Carlotta's latest pregnancy, Amelie decided with a cynical stab of amusement. It looked like there was trouble in paradise.

"I said Tilma could have done it, dearest," Carlotta repeated herself. "We needn't have bothered Amelie."

"I don't mind," Amelie lied, smoothly. It was good to play nice if you wanted to keep your housecarl stayed happy.

"Aye, an old woman like Tilma is no match for these two!" Bjorn smiled handsomely at Amelie but wilted guiltily under Carlotta's relentless stare. Honestly the man was so whipped he'd even allowed Mila to keep her last-name instead of having it changed to his, as was proper.

"Hopefully this time you've locked away the... Daedra Hearts, was it?" Carlotta snipped at her. "Or was it Nightshade? Or Chaurus Eggs? Or was that another time?"

"There were no children present at the Nightshade incident," Amelie replied, sullenly. Bjorn cleared his throat and stared down at his boots.

"Thank the Divines," Carlotta's voice was a waspish mutter above the crackling of the fire. Kodlak began sucking his thumb.

"None of that," Amelie told him, anxious to prove that she was so good at looking after their children. "Sucking your thumbs in a deplorable habit, my sweet."

"He's four," she heard Carlotta grunt.

"So is killing things for fun and profit," was Mila's reply.

Touché you little witch, Amelie felt a muscle jumping in her jaw. The remark went conveniently ignored by the parents.

"Aunty Amelie doesn't kill for fun and profit," Lydia came down the stairs like a guardian angel and Bjorn looked like he could have kissed her. "She saved all of Tamriel, and it wasn't fun or profitable."

It most certainly was, Amelie kept her thoughts to herself. She kept them to herself even as little Kodlak got hold of an ancient and priceless book entitled "Poisonous Herbes of Daggerfalle,". She cursed silently. Forgot about that one.

Limp goodbyes were said between herself, Carlotta and Bjorn whom she plied with lots of sympathetic looks that were probably misinterpreted. She wished Lydia softer and far sincerer words of good luck.

"Bye daddy!" said Kodlak. "Bye mummy and Lydia!"

The three of them listened to the footsteps fade out of earshot, off along the road to the Bannered Mare for the night. Amelie turned to face her two young charges. Mila was fixing her with a sulky, unimpressed stare.

"His daddy's a werewolf," she told her, matter-of-factly. "It's why he smells like wet dog all the time."

Amelie sat down and told them that there was no such thing as a werewolf living in polite society. It was unheard of. Then, she directed them to the more child-friendly of her books.

This night will be The Night That Nothing Goes Wrong, she vowed.

Everything was going wrong.

The floor was covered in Black-Briar Reserve and paralysis poisons, and so was Mila. Amelie had only just managed to unstick the girl by brewing up an antidote in her Alchemy Room. Of course, then Kodlak had wondered in and the night had turned into "The Night Mila and Kodlak saw Aunty Dragonborn Decapitate a Homicidal Dremora."

Before then, Mila had been on the floor as rigid as a plank of wood, screaming about how she was going to make Amelie's life a living hell. The threats and screams had come out rather funny-sounding however, with half of her face paralysed like it was. She sat up at last, panting heavily from the effects of the paralysis and her screams. Her hair stuck wetly to her face which dripped one side with poison and the other with mead.

"You shouldn't have tried to climb up to the shelves," Amelie growled at her, all pretense of a happy-clappy baby-sitter gone. "Actions have consequences, you know."

"You're a really bad mummy, Aunty," Kodlak piped up from the corner. Amelie had sent him there after the Dremora incident and a lecture about why he shouldn't play with magical staffs. "But I forgive you."

Amelie sighed.

"You really are awful," Mila agreed with her half-brother and sighed in a dramatic and over-bearing manner. "It's almost pathetic really..."

"Aye," Kodlak.

"Five septims to each of you, if you don't breath a word of this to your Mother," was Amelie's immediate reaction. She saw Mila's eyes turn thoughtful and beady again. The way she had eyed up the last sweetroll only a few hours ago. It was a cold and calculating look that Amelie was sure the little girl had inherited from her dragon of a mother.

"Fifteen septims," she snapped.

"Ten!"

"Ten septims and a story!" Kodlak interrupted from the corner. He turned meekly back to the wall when he caught Amelie's murderous expression. Despite being only four he knew when someone had experienced enough. Amelie rather thought that such a notion was one Mila Valentia would never grasp. Still the way the little girl's eyes lit up at the mere mention of a story was an interesting development that had Amelie kicking herself for her stupidity. Of course. Children loved stories, the more outrageous the better.

"Fifteen septims... and a story," Mila told her, at last.

"That isn't fair," Amelie replied, slack-jawed. The girl's dealings were sleazier than Belethors.

"Life isn't fair," Mila told her. And that did it, really.

"Oh you want a story, do you?" Amelie growled at her. "Sit down then! Kodlak! Over here!"

Mila sat down by the fire smugly whilst Kodlak obeyed with quiet worry. He had his father's solemn brown eyes and ability to somehow know when trouble was just ahead. All the same, he felt sorry for Aunty Dragonborn as Mila could be a bit of a bully. He sat down next to his babysitter and put a reassuring hand on her leg.

"Once upon a time," Amelie spat.

"Tell it properly," Mila commanded.

If you were my child, the Dragonborn smiled obligingly. "Once upon a time," she began again in a horribly contrived sing-song.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young Breton girl who was always tricked into staying home with the children by her so-called friends. The children were spoiled creatures and wanted everything to themselves and the Breton was practically a slave!" She paused to see if the children had cottoned on. They hadn't. Good.

"But what no one knew was," Amelie cnotinued and paused to think. "Aye. What know one knew was... Sheogorath-"

The wind rattled at the window-panes. Kodlak's little frown deepened.

"Sheogorath," it rattled again. "Daedric Prince of Madness was in love with the Breton and he had given her certain powers."

"What powers?" Mila demanded.

"A magic wish!" Amelie improvised wildly. "One single wish, only. So one night when the little runts had been particularly cruel to her, she called upon the Daedric Prince for help!"

I'm Listening...

"'Say your right words!' Lord Sheogorath said," she lowered her voice to a quiet whisper. "and I shall take the children to my lands, and you shall be free.'"

Her voice grew again and the words began to run together. Kodlak watched the shadows deepen on the walls and huddled close enough to the fire that it was almost too warm. "But the girl knew," said Amelie, "that wicked Sheogorath would keep the children in his castle for ever and ever and ever, and uh... turn them into his slaves! Forever! Yeah. And so she suffered in silence. Until one day, when she was tired from a day of dragon-slaying, and she was hurt by the rudeness of their mother, and she could no longer stand it..."

There was a loud crack of thunder and from the tiny Living Area of Breezehome they could hear the sharp, pattering sound of the heaven's opening up above them. Amelie felt slightly satisfied with the thought of them having to walk back to Carlotta's house in the rain. Or Jorravskr, or wherever it was they lived now.

"That was a lame story," said Mila, but she sounded uneasy. "Everyone knows you need an offering if you want to make a deal with the Daedra. We should get an extra five septims compensation,"

"I didn't like it, aunty," Kodlak whimpered.

"Aye, neither of you like anything," Amelie scoffed. "You don't like my food, you don't like my books. You don't like my house, you don't like my stories. Why do you even agree to come if you don't like it here?"

"I didn't say, I didn't like it here," the boy whispered, but nobody heard him. There was a loud, sloppy knock at the door and a sound that was like someone smacking against wood.

"Amelie?" A giggle. Lydia. Drunken Lydia. Drunken, engaged Lydia. "We're back! My brother-in-law brought me back here. Open the door!"

"Go and open the door please, Mila," Amelie barked. The girl didn't move. "Now, please."

"Twenty septims on the morning," she heard the little brat murmur under her breath. The fire had thankfully dried off the remains of mead and poison from her hair. With any luck the girl would get into a scrape at Jorravskr and someone else could take the blame.

The doorway was filled with an enormous figure. Vilkas. Amelie leapt up to help him get Lydia settled into a chair. The housecarl giggled and tried to tell Amelie what a wonderful Thane she was, and how she'd be even better if she just smiled more often. Was a bit more sociable.

"You too, Vilkas," she continued, dreamily. "Both of you are so uptight... It's unbelievable."

"It's unbelievable, my Thane," Amelie corrected her and shared a sympathetic look with the better half of Farkas. Vilkas returned it and seemed sober for the most part. He was always nice, if distant, to Amelie and didn't raise an eyebrow at the shattered potion bottles on the floor or the scorch-mark where a Dremora had stood. If she remembered correctly, Vilkas had been judged even less of an appropriate choice for baby-sitting. A sound achievement.

"How were the little brats?" he muttered to her as Mila and Kodlak moved to get their things with sullen yet relieved expressions.

"Nightmares," she replied, feeling a wash of exhaustion come over her. "I think I scared Kodlak a bit with some silly story, I made up. Are you here to take them? Rather you than me."

"Carlotta and Bjorn are waiting outside," he told her. "Whiterun will be very quiet tomorrow morning, I think. Farkas is out cold in the Bannered Mare still."

"Aye, it'll be a nice quiet morning," Amelie's smile was genuine at the thought of a nice long lay-in. "I suppose congratulations are in order for Lydia and Farkas?"

"Aye," Vilkas nodded stoically. "Perhaps now my brother will stop pestering me with thoughts about Lydia's eyes, though I doubt it."

"My sympathies, friend."

"Goodbye Aunty Dragonborn," said Kodlak but he seemed rather reproachful when he embraced her. As if he disapproved of something she had done, which was ironic. He probably thought summoning demons from the Planes of Oblivion was all in good fun.

"Twenty septims," was Mila's way of saying goodbye. Vilkas didn't ask but gave the Dragonborn another sympathetic look.

The three of them stepped out into the rain. Amelie couldn't close the door quick enough and didn't slam it only because she didn't want Vilkas to think she was being rude. "Horrid little runts!" she dared to say aloud. Lydia giggled from where she sat at the table.

"You bloody hate them, don't you?" she sighed.

"Not Kodlak. Mila? Gods, definitely."

Lydia laughed again and watched her Thane pick up the shattered pieces of several potions bottles. "I suppose the little brat swindled you out of your money again."

"Aye," Amelie felt anger well up inside of her at Lydia's gentle questioning. "I owe her twenty septims for something she did wrong! It isn't fair, Lydia."

"That reminds me of what my Ma used to say," said Lydia. "It isn't fair, Lydia, but that's the way it is."

"She sounds like a barrel of laughs..." Amelie checked she had enough broken shards to make up the five bottles that Mila had smashed. Next to the shards was the remnants of her Black-Briar Reserve. But wait... where was the dagger? The ebony dagger? She leapt upon a chair to check the shelf. Not there.

"One of the little shits has taken my blade!" she swore. Even Lydia seemed to sober at how angry she was. "Shor's blood, if they were my children, I'd-"

You could always wish them away! A voice told her. Amelie laughed.

"Aye of course! I didn't finish my story!" She continued sarcastically. "And it has such a good ending, too!"

"Tell me it," Lydia snorted. "I won't be so easily scared as little Kodlak."

"The Breton makes a wish... I can bear it no longer!" Amelie cried out dramatically, always possessing a flair for the dramatic since childhood. "Sheogorath, Lord Sheograth! Wherever you may be! Take those children far away from me!"

"What was that?" she heard her housecarl mock, but there was something strange about her voice. Amelie felt as if she had been the one drinking all night in the Bannered Mare. Not Lydia.

"What was what?" she slurred.

"Those weren't the words," Lydia told her in a know-it-all voice. that still wasn't quite her own. "Where did you get that rubbish? It didn't even start with "I wish!""

"Fine," Amelie teased back and corrected herself sotto voce. "I wish Lord Sheogorath would come and take those children far away from me."

"Knowing your luck, you'd just end up babysitting Braith or Jarl Baalgruf's children instead."

"Aye," Amelie nodded, darkly amused. "Then I wish Lord Sheogorath would take all the children from the whole of bloody Skyrim!" she said.

There was another melodramatic crack of lightening outside that made the two of them jump. Amelie fancied she might have heard laughter and felt all her hairs stand up on end. How queer. Then, she met Lydia's eyes and burst out into fits of laughter with her. For a moment she wondered how on Nirn her housecarl even knew what she was talking about.

Then from outside came a loud, deep yell. And then, a thin piercing scream.

I was flicking through Skyrim Kink Meme when I found a gem about how Sheogorath would make an amazing Goblin King from Labyrinth. Watch it, if you haven't (it isn't necessary to read this fic, though). I was all "DIVINES. IT'S STORY TIME." And thus, Through Dangers Untold was spawned. I know I have another Sheogorath fic to finish, but this totally took over. I don't own anything bar OCs of course be it Bethesda or Labyrinth.

Will probably go over again. Just, I hadn't posted anything in forever. Review, review, review. Oh please.