The following is a segment from a much larger story that I hope to write in the future. Let me know if you like it or not.
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In an unknown realm somewhere in the Aurbis stood a grand, pristine hall. It was constructed of a pale, opaque crystal of pure symmetry. Its flawless interior was empty save for a large, crystalline dining table with seventeen seats, each of the same material. Eight chairs were on either side, and one, large throne sat at its head. Suddenly, there erupted fifteen portals upon each seat, out of which emerged fifteen Princes, while the head of the table remained unfilled. The Daedra Lords blinked confusedly and looked at one another with concern. Silent concern quickly escalated into chaos.
Boethiah sat across from Malacath, smirking at him as if to instigate. The Spurned One growled into the eyes of the Plotter.
Sheogorath and Sanguine sat beside the other, loudly babbling incoherently over tales of revelry, as Mehrunes Dagon glared suspiciously at the Madgod from the adjacent seat.
Molag Bal and Meridia, ancient enemies, argued over old feuds.
Barbas sat upon an empty seat and howled, as Clavicus Vile shoved his hound disciplinarily, only for the neighboring Hircine to hiss, “control your beast, Vile!”
Namira and Mephala muttered to each other about ancient truths, as Nocturnal listened in.
Azura and Vaermina sat patiently awaiting their host, as the draconic Peryite shivered in his seat in anticipation.
A gathering of the Daedric Princes had not occurred in eons, so chaotic discourse was more than expected. The entropic noise filling the hall continued for what a mortal would perceive as roughly thirty minutes. Then, as abruptly as the extinguishment of a candle, the crowd suddenly fell to a dead silence as the guests felt the arrival of their host. All fifteen in attendance simultaneously shifted their gaze toward the head of the table, where he then sat.
The being at the end of the table was a tall, foreboding figure. Maintaining the silhouette of a grand knight in exquisite, jagged armor, and seemingly made of the same white crystal that comprised his hall, he sat with his hands folded straight, pressed against his hard lips, his brow furrowed studiously as if to be intrigued by his guests’ activities.
At the Princes’ attention, he said, “It has been long, everyone”.
The eyes of the fifteen Daedra Lords widened, speechless as they recognized their oldest adversary.
“Ha! Jygster! How are the kids?!”, yelled Sheogorath, breaking the silence.
“Silence, Mad One”, commanded Jyggalag, “While I owe you my freedom, you remain but a man to me. Know your place in my domain.”
At this, the gathering gasped in awe. When the Greymarch was ended in the Third Era, the essences of Jyggalag and Sheogorath became two, with an intervention from a mortal hero.
“Did you not tell them, Sheogorath?”, Jyggalag asked the Madgod calmly, “what else have you kept from them?”
Sheogorath snickered, contorted his face into his old one, and winked at Mehrunes Dagon. The Destroyer’s face wrinkled forth into an expression of rage, and he stood up from his seat, slamming one of his fists upon the table.
“I KNEW IT! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO—", started Dagon.
“Sit.” interrupted Jyggalag.
To the Prince of Ambition’s amazement, he was compelled to sit.
“Silence”, added Jyggalag, and Dagon was then silent. In Jyggalag’s domain, his Orders are always fulfilled.
Jyggalag returned his attention to the grander audience at the table, his position unwavering. “It seems my seating arrangements have proven productive”, said the King of Order, “but the amusement is over. I must admit to you all the reason as to why I have brought you here”.
Jyggalag’s steadfast arm rose up to form a pointing gesture. His segmented quartz finger beheld one of the chairs at the far end of his right-hand side. The Princes looked toward the seat at which he was pointing, and upon it was Barbas, busy at work scratching his ear with his hind paw. Confused whispers arose among the guests.
“I told you that mutt was out of line”, grumbled Hircine.
“Shutup, bushman!”, retorted Clavicus Vile, embarrassed of Barbas’s misbehavior. Vile turned to Jyggalag across the table, “so what did he do?”.
Jyggalag’s regal arm returned to its folded position with the other, “You are a fool. All of you are fools. I refer not to that dog. In your pandemonium, did you not recall that there are usually sixteen of you?”
The Princes’ heads turned abruptly once more to the far seat, where Barbas sat nervously with his ears back. In an instant, The Hound solidified into crystal, and exploded into shards, ordered by Jyggalag’s mind. Vile was petrified with fear as he felt the weakness of his power being halved.
Before the crowd could feel relief at the passing of Clavicus’s obnoxious counterpart, Jyggalag continued, “that seat was unattended when I brought you here, yes?”
There was silence for a short moment, until Boethiah exclaimed, “That damn librarian!” The Daedric Princes then realized that Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, was not there.
“Yes…Mora was always a shy one”, Azura added, “we must have forgotten that he existed.”
Indeed, Hermaeus Mora has very rarely connected with other Daedric spheres, mainly concerning himself with mortal kind in the collection of Mundus’s deepest secrets.
“Tell us why you did not bring him here, white one”, demanded Molag Bal, sinisterly.
“It is simple”, replied Jyggalag, “I could not. That is the crisis at hand. However, I did grant him an invitation. He will arrive in moments. Soon, you will see why you are here”.
It was indeed mere moments before the hall’s ceiling above the empty head of the table cracked suddenly and loudly. From this crack burst forth a maelstrom of inky tendrils, followed by a coalescence of eyes and pincers intertwined within a wretched abyss. The hideous Apocryphal amalgamation filled the end of the hall furthest from Jyggalag, and at its center was a giant, closed eye. Hermaeus Mora’s slimy black eyelids quickly opened, and where there once was a prying abyssal orb, was now an intricately-runed stonelike sphere which radiated with azure magical energy. Meridia, who sat upon the seat nearest, gasped at the sight, while the others were unphased.
“Greetings…siblings” said Herma Mora in a deep, eerily-soothing voice, “It has been…millennia”. Mora shifted his gaze to Meridia, Lady of Light, “You look like you’ve… seen a ghost” he jested.
Meridia’s face was pale, and stuttered “H-how did you—Where did you—”,
Jyggalag interrupted, “Please, Fallen One. Tell them what you know.”
Meridia’s eyes darted nervously, and she shifted in her seat. “That eye. It should not be here” she began, “there is only one other. It is an Eye of The Architect.”
Meridia is unique among the Princes in that she was not always a ruler of Oblivion. Long ago, before time had meaning, the Et’Ada escaped from Mundus to Aetherius, following their father Magnus, Mundus’s architect. Meridia was one of these star-children, but fell to Oblivion to rule the Colored Rooms. It is for this reason that Meridia could never mistake the very eye of her father and knows its terrible secret.
“Well done”, said Hermaeus Mora “indeed…Mundus is what Magnus saw. The mind of the Creator and Mundus are and will always be the same. All that is known and could ever be known in Mundus are within his Creative Vision…and it is mine.”
Mora blinked, and the Eye of Magnus unraveled into a core of energy that hadn’t been seen since the Dawn. His tentacles grew and the abyss began to grow hostile.
Hermaeus Mora bellowed, “…Everything I have ever sought for…I have obtained! But there remains much to be learned! You have all hidden much from me, and with my new power and the secrets I have unveiled, all of the Aurbis will be…my Apocrypha!”
The ceiling of the hall was immediately penetrated by sixteen massive tendrils. Mora was fast, but Jyggalag was faster. The host sent his guests to their realms before Old Herma could steal their essences, but Jyggalag was caught in a powerful coil.
Hermaeus Mora stopped. Beyond the King of Order’s impeded movement, nothing was happening, and Mora was taking nothing.
Hermaeus Mora grumbled, “…I cannot comprehend you…”, he growled angrily, and continued, “...but Oblivion can teach me how…” Mora blinked, and the Eye of Magnus reconsolidated itself.
Jyggalag was released from Mora’s grasp, stood unwavering before the omniscient eye of Hermaeus Magnus and said, “now that the guests have left, allow us to speak in private”.
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There is a lot of context missing from this. AMA.