Chapitre 442: Confessions?
Michael wasn't threatened as she began to make her way over. He knew what her magic could do, he knew what spells in Tamriel were capable of, and he knew what artifact she possesses. Even so, his usual caution was lost as the thought of what she might ask him manifested in his mind.
She finally reaches him, standing right in front of him while looking up at his face, her short stature making their height disparity look rather humorous, at least, in any other circumstance.
"I... I wanted to master magic... Learn to cook from Mother... Teach Illococoo to stop eating random things..." she mutters as tears drip from under her horned mask and past her neck. "Find love?"
Michael's chest feels heavy, though, no moisture gathers in his eyes... Not because he didn't want to cry, but because he'd been unable to for a while now.
She drops her staff on the floor and raises her hand to the mask, taking it off and revealing her pale, sunken, and sallow face that'd seen much sadness and misery. Tears streamed from her baggy eyes, pooling on her chin as they dripped to the floor.
He does nothing as she stands on her tiptoes and reaches up to his face, pulling him down into an abrupt kiss.
Michael was surprised, to say the least, he hadn't thought that Charlotte had any such intentions towards himself. Indeed, he'd suspected that she liked the other gender entirely.
The kiss was long, aggressive yet gentle... One belonged to a novice who was only trying it for the first time ever, but had some expectations regardless.
His mind was only just rebooting as Darth, the shadowy foot suddenly kicks Charlotte in the side, throwing the young girl a couple of meters as she rolls to a stop.
Michael was still dazed from the kiss, and his usual caution was lost. Primarily, he was worried about Tiffania's reaction to it when he undoubtedly told her... Something like kissing Charlotte before her death was not something to be kept secret... This is partly why he was so unprepared for the sound of a projectile heading his way.
He tilts his head to the side while activating Shadow Dance and Counter Spell, well aware that Cold Embrace would probably result in his death if it was as he suspected, a Daedric Prince breaking the rules and attacking him.
The object whizzes by, cutting the slightest scratch on the tip of his ear as it clatters to the ground not far away. No one had thrown it, but his expression quickly falls when he focuses on the ground where the thing had landed...
Mehrune's Razor, the thing that'd just scratched his ear...
His hand goes to the scratch that wasn't healing despite Shadow Dance being active, his eyes darting to Charlotte who was crying even more profusely than before.
"Charlotte... You..." he utters in disbelief, unable to summon any anger despite the absolute betrayal...
He could feel it. The sense of overwhelming dread one would feel when something bad was about to happen, the curse of Mehrune's Razor flooded from the wound, going through his body and gripping his heart.
With that, all goes black. Michael drops to his knees as he abruptly dies.
"I-I'm sorry. So sorry." Charlotte sobs as she looks at the corpse.
She stands, disregarding her broken hip bone and picks up Mehrune's Razor, intent to end herself... Only to lose control of her body at the last second as the dagger dissipates in her grasp, sent directly to Clavicus Vile.
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The Daedric Princes all watched this with various expressions, the most common of which is... Laughter.
"Ahahahahahahaha! What an emotional finale! Ahahahaha!" Clavicus clammers victoriously, unable to hide his glee at winning the competition, along with eliminating one of the ties that were binding his servant from reaching her full potential. Sure, he'd had to help her along a bit via the Chain of Arkmis, but regardless of the method, he only saw this as a win.
"Hmph, I have to say, I had not expected this." Hircine says, surprised that Michael had actually perished here. Not only that, he perished to Mehrune's Razor, meaning his soul now belonged to the Daedric Lord of Destruction.
"No one had expected to lose to the Imp." Vaermina sourly adds, less upset at the loss of her artifact than the fact that she'd lost the competition.
"THIS IS NO VICTORY! YOUR HALF-SIZED RAT SHOULD HAVE FALLEN! THE DOG'S CHAMPION WOULD HAVE BEEN FAR BETTER SUITED!" Dagon angrily shouts.
Clavicus snorts, "My 'Rat' gifted you the soul of the World-Hopper, shut up and be thankful you four-armed barbarian."
"MARK MY WORDS, IMP, THIS WILL NOT BE THE END OF IT!"
Clavicus nods, "You're right, it won't... Because it's time for me to state my terms, as is the right of the victory." he arrogantly says, causing the other Princes to groan. The losers all appear in their ephemeral forms and gather around Clavicus, waiting for whatever ridiculous claims he wishes to make.
"Heh, look at you all, waiting on my word like a bunch of money-grubbing prostitutes-" Clavicus starts but is cut off as the other Daedric Princes all begin berating him, unable to let his victory sit quietly.
It takes around half an hour of Hircine pacifying everyone, even though he himself wasn't all that happy with Clavicus' win.
"Now, I only have one request from all of you... Stay out of the lands I have set my eyes on... Elsweyr and Skyrim."
...
"You cannot be serious, Imp." Meridia retorts, she was well aware of the Vampire threat that was gaining strength in Skyrim, and knew that she'd be needed to render aid and power to those who'd end up fighting against it.
Clavicus nods, "I am completely serious, my dear. Plus, it's only these two small Provinces. It's not like I've forbidden you from acting in Cyrodil or Morrowind." he smirks towards Azura, "At least there you aren't powerless... I am not returning the moon, however."
...
Mephala lets out a respondent sigh, "Fine, no direct influence in either Province... But that doesn't block all avenues, Imp. Remember this." she states as her form fades, along with many others.
Sheogorath lets out a pitiful groan, "Poor Pinchy the Fourth, cut down in your prime, before you could even destroy the capital of Skyrim. The brightest always burn out first!" he says as he disappears.
"WE'LL SEE HOW LONG YOUR VICTORY LASTS, IMP!" Dagon says as his form fades.
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