This story contains spoilers for the game Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and the webcomic Prequel.
As Katia trembled from the stinging burn on her rear and snorted through her own blood, she felt a warm presence at her side. Then soft white feathers, gently radiant with a golden sheen, draped over her back. Celestia had literally taken Katia under her wing. Katia felt several healing spells flow through her body, some taking full effect to ease her pain, others becoming blunted and disrupted the moment they touched her skin, spreading over her in shimmering light before being absorbed into her as undifferentiated magicka. This was the blessing and the curse of being born under the sign of the Atronach; as often as not, it blocked whatever spell was cast upon her, helpful or harmful. Even so, she was soon once more in perfect health, and at full charge... and cuddled, and wanted.
Katia sighed and closed her eyes as she was pressed against the warm royal flank. She hadn't realized until now that she'd needed a hug, because hugs had not been a part of her life. Her disappointed parents could never say "I love you, Katia..." without adding "...but..." After a while, they didn't even have to say it. The "but..." was always there by inflection, or in their reproachful eyes.
What was happening now was the pure, unreserved and real thing. Celestia perceived herself as being a loving mother to all her subjects, and it was now Katia's turn to receive that love. Katia buried her face in Celestia's fur, and the dank smell of the musty catacomb faded. Celestia smelt like all the scents of summer, flowering grass and warm breezes soughing through sun-warmed forests...
And Katia knew, deep down, that such things do not last, particularly for miserable creatures with her kind of luck. Something bad was going to happen that would make this beautiful moment useless, or meaningless, or a disaster that would bring nothing but bitter memories and regret in the dark future. It was just the way her life was; there was always a "but." She held the moment as long as she could.
At length, Celestia released her hold and stepped back. Katia looked up at her with brimming kittenish eyes. "...Thank you," she whispered.
Celestia smiled. "Katia... I wasn't able to save you from your dreams, as you were growing up. Please accept this as partial amends."
The Blades stood stolidly, keeping their eyes fixed on the rusty gate of egress. Katia felt a bit ashamed. She hoped that they got a hug sometimes, too.
Glenbay coughed. "Your Majesty, we need to go. Once we reach the sewer exit, we can get you to safety."
"Very well, Glenbay. Please put your things in order, Katia."
Katia tugged wildly at straps and buckles as she tried to stow the shaman's staff in an accessible location. As she jostled her saddlebags, bottles clanked against coins, rusty daggers, and an astonishing variety of clutter. The bags had turned out to be remarkably roomy, and there had been so many useful things, or things that were worth at least one coin, or souvenirs of her first solo dungeon exploration, or things that might look good on a mantlepiece if she ever wound up having a mantlepiece...
"It seems that you did well on your own." Celestia said.
Katia, aware that she was holding everything up, started chattering in a stream of nervous energy. "Well, Your Majesty, your dungeons were full of rats which I could have guessed but do you know you have a whole tribe of Dogs living back there?! Had. And I'm curious—what's with all the chests that you break a couple of lockpicks to open and you find more lockpicks inside them? Is the idea to reward thieves by helping them to practice...?"
As she spoke, she pulled out a clay bowl that she'd picked up by accident, and several rat drumsticks came out with it and fell to the floor. Haurus and Glenbay stared at her in astonishment, then wrinkled their noses and turned away. Celestia either had not seen, or was pretending not to see. Katia considered all the things she wanted to say—they're not mine—I was saving them for a friend—alchemical ingredients—then decided that she wasn't comfortable with lying in the presence of the Empress. Burning with shame, she scooped up the rat meat and restowed it in her bag as unobtrusively as she could.
The moment that Katia got her bags settled, the Blades, trembling with impatience, stalked without a word through the next door. Celestia strode after them, with Katia trotting behind her in mortified silence and wondering how she could try to rebuild her confidence. But as they passed through the next chamber, the Blades dealt so swiftly and contemptuously with the assassin's sporadic attacks that Katia had no time to even offer her assistance. Haurus at one point asked her to hold a torch, which she took as being a semi-polite hint that she should keep her mouth shut.
As the Blades secured the chamber and scouted the next exit, the Empress spent some time staring at the ceiling, her face grim. At length, she turned her gaze to Katia.
"They don't know what I see in you, Katia, and perhaps you don't as well. You know that the Nine guide us..."
Katia looked to the side, embarrassed. "They don't seem to care much for me." She saw that her bloody nose had left a smear on the Empress's shoulder, but decided not to mention it. Quid pro quo, said an odd inner voice.
"They rarely speak directly to anyone," Celestia continued. "But one can read the heavens. I chart my course by the stars, each one a flaming sign that marks our fate..."
"Uhm, are you sure the stars never speak? Because sometimes... I do hear voices."
Everyone stared at Katia, the Empress more politely than her Blades. Part of Katia's brain encouraged her to shut up before she did further harm, but her speech center seemed to be taking firm command of her mouth.
"It's as if everything I do is sort of watched, and there are a bunch of people, I guess you would call them, though I don't think they're like us and they're not the Nine and they're probably not Daedra, but they're aliens, maybe? From another world? And every once in a while when there's some important choice I need to make, and often when there isn't, they sort of send me messages. And I wind up hearing all these messages before I can decide what to do, and some of these aliens really want to help, and others just seem to want me to get in trouble, and some just make pictures and songs at me. And they argue with each other a lot..."
The verbal flood died down as Katia's mouth threw the last few shovelsful of dirt on the grave of her dignity.
The Empress seemed unperturbed. "Well. You have my blessing, Katia. May you find peace and surcease from these visions."
"Thank you. Heh, I don't want you to get the wrong idea... It's not like I'm a worshipper of Sheogorath or anything! That would be really weird. I mean, why would anyone worship the Daedric Prince of Madness at all? You'd have to be... Heh. Anyway, I don't... do... it..."
Celestia was suddenly staring at Katia, with great deep eyes so intent and expression so odd that Katia shuddered and fell into silence. It felt as if Celestia was looking right through her. Fear crawled along the Khageet's spine and her back involuntarily arched, fur rising in a threat display.
However kind Celestia was, she still bore the face of Katia's worst and most enduring nightmare.