Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/116664.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Adam_Lambert_(Musician), Tommy_Ratliff_(Musician), Buffy_the_Vampire
      Slayer
  Relationship:
      Adam_Lambert/Tommy_Ratliff, Oz_Osbourne/Willow_Rosenberg
  Character:
      Adam_Lambert, Tommy_Ratliff, Willow_Rosenberg, Oz_Osbourne
  Additional Tags:
      Crossover, Alternate_Universe, High_School, Partner_Swapping
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-09-14 Words: 26653
****** All that Glitters ******
by rivers_bend
Summary
     What would happen, said I, if I set that Adam/Tommy high school AU I
     was wanting to write in Sunnydale during the Scoobies' senior year?
     Apparently, this.
Notes
     I do not know any of the real people whose personas are used in this
     story, and I don't own any of the fictional characters or settings
     and garner no financial gain from their use. Clearly this didn't
     happen, but ain't fiction grand?
See the end of the work for more notes
Adam Lambert was not happy, and he didn't care who knew it. Bad enough his
parents were getting a divorce, but then his mom, Leila, announced they were
moving. And not just houses, either. Out of San Diego altogether to someplace
no one had ever heard of up towards LA. Sunnydale or something. Suckydale, more
like. Not that he was exactly in love with the school where he was, but the
assholes had stopped calling him fag and shoving him into lockers once he got
taller than most of them, and the administration had had to back down and let
him wear eyeliner after his mom and dad threatened to take them to court since
there wasn't a make-up policy for girls, and he was just that gay kid now
rather than an object of constant ridicule. Plus, the drama club was doing two
musicals next year instead of just one, and he was finally going to be a
senior, and it just wasn't fair.
"Life's not fair," his mom said. "You're seventeen, and you're still in high
school, so I'm still the boss, and you and your brother are coming with me.
That's just the way it goes. Now pack up your room or the movers will decide
what to do with all your stuff."
Adam didn't like the thought of that, so he packed.
They got to Sunnydale two weeks before school started. Their house was pretty
nice, and he didn't have to share a bathroom with Neil anymore—which probably
made Neil even happier than it made Adam; he bitched a lot about Adam getting
face powder on his toothbrush, even though Adam didn't even use face powder. He
still didn't have a car, but it was at least easy to walk downtown. The stores
kind of sucked, but there was a club called The Bronze which seemed to be the
high school hang-out, and they had live music, which was better than anything
they had back home for people under 21. Adam had mostly been to arena shows and
folk festivals. They were fun, but not as good as small venues for watching the
performers closely—something his voice teacher back in San Diego had always
been telling him to do.
Adam wasn't going to tell his mother, but Sunnydale might be cooler than he
thought it was going to be.
The first night he went to the Bronze he had to take Neil, who complained the
whole time that the music sucked—and who wanted to play pool even though the
guys at the table were much older and looked like they'd wipe the floor with
Neil if he approached them—but it was still a pretty good time. There were more
Goths than Adam was expecting, which meant he wasn't the only guy there in
eyeliner, though he was the only one without chips in his nail polish. The
bartenders made virgin cocktails, and Adam thought the band was pretty good,
though the singer tended to elide her consonants and her vibrato got a little
out of control on the high notes. Getting to sit with a drink and listen to
live music was amazing, however, and the night was definitely a win. He still
made Neil stay home to keep their mom company when he went back two days later,
though.
That night the band was a little rougher sounding, but the bass player was the
most beautiful guy Adam had ever seen—tiny and slim with dyed-blond hair
falling over his pretty face. Adam was staring, trying not to be too obvious
about it, when a voice and a tap on his elbow interrupted him.
"You a Dingoes fan?"
The girl was short and cute in a sort of funky-but-unadorned way, but her plain
looks didn't make her words any clearer. "A what?" Adam said.
Gesturing vaguely at the stage, she said again, "Dingoes ate my Baby."
"I'm sorry?" Adam answered, in case that was the right thing to say, before he
got that she was telling him the band's name.
"The guitar player's my boyfriend," she added. Then, "Oz."
"I'm Adam," Adam said.
"Oh, no. He's Oz. I'm Willow."
Adam was still feeling a little confused. He blamed the guy on stage—not Oz,
thankfully, as he was pretty sure he didn't want this Willow mad at him—who was
ridiculously distracting. "Are you friends with the whole band?" he asked,
probably not as subtly as he hoped.
"I'll warn you right now, with Devon what you see is what you get. All you get.
He's almost completely brainless, so don't go expecting any conversation. Also,
I'm pretty sure he only dates girls."
In Adam's experience all high school boys only dated girls, so he didn't
actually see this as much of a deterrent to his crush. But he did like
something behind a guy's looks, so the brainless part was a letdown. Maybe this
Devon just didn't show it off to Willow. "He's pretty good on the bass," he
said. "So he's not just looks."
"You're looking at Tommy?" Willow smiled at that. "Tommy's adorable."
"Who's Devon?" Adam looked around the stage, but none of the guys were as
pretty as the boy in the leather collar rocking out in front of the drummer.
"The lead singer. Everyone wants to sleep with him."
Once again, Adam proved himself not everyone. Story of his life.
"Do they go to Sunnydale?" The drummer and the rhythm guitar player looked like
they might be in college, but Tommy and Oz definitely looked like high school.
"Devon and Tommy are gonna be seniors, and Phil and Axel are older. Oz was a
senior last year, too, actually, but he didn't graduate." Willow looked
strangely pleased about this for someone who seemed to value intelligence.
When Adam told her he was going to be a senior too, Willow started asking him
questions about where he came from, and tried to warn him that things in
Sunnydale were going to be pretty different. But Adam was used to different,
and the things she was telling him sounded a little crazy, so he mostly ignored
the details and tried to figure out if Tommy was wearing eyeliner or if he just
had big eyes. He bought Willow a drink though, and kept her talking, so he'd
have an excuse to go with her to meet Tommy after the show.
Willow was more than happy to oblige.
Adam had a moment of feeling like a freakish giant when Willow took him over
where the Dingoes were packing up after their set, and he almost fled before
Willow could introduce him. But then Tommy looked up from where he was stowing
a strap in one of the bags, and he was wearing eyeliner, and the look he gave
Adam wasn't scornful or dismissive. It was—Adam wasn't sure what exactly, but
it riveted him to the spot.
"Guys, this is Adam," Willow said. "And Adam, this is Oz, Devon, Phil, and
Axel. And this—" She shoved Adam forward—"is Tommy."
The others said, "Hey," or nodded, but Tommy held out his hand. "Hi, Adam," he
said.
His grip was strong, and reminded Adam of how tired his fingers had gotten the
few times he'd tried to play guitar before he realized that his voice was
really his instrument and he shouldn't try to branch out. Adam wanted to
linger, see where Tommy's calluses were, just keep the connection. But he shook
and let go and wasn't a total creeper.
"Adam's your newest fan," Willow said, and to Adam's embarrassment, she was
looking right at Tommy. But she turned to Oz when she added, "He's gonna be a
senior with us," so maybe no one noticed her matchmaking.
"We're going to the park if you want to hang," Phil said, nudging Oz's elbow to
get his attention.
"You up for the park?" Oz asked Willow.
"Sure," she said, looking towards Adam.
"You come too," Tommy said. "It's just a park, but it'll be cool."
Adam wouldn't have said no if Tommy asked him to go hang out in the sewers. The
park sounded great.
Sitting on picnic tables with the others, Adam and Tommy talked for three
hours, until Adam realized his mother was going to kill him if he didn't get
home. They discussed music, and southern California, and the fact that Tommy
was still together with the girlfriend he'd left behind in LA eighteen months
before. Adam had a twinge of disappointment at that, but Tommy didn't sound
very serious about her and he was practically sitting in Adam's lap by the time
he'd finished the single beer one of the older boys gave each of them, so the
news didn't get Adam down for very long.
None of the guys in the band seemed to have a problem with Adam or with his
interest in Tommy. Willow kept smiling at them indulgently from her spot
between Oz's legs, and Adam thought he might have seen Oz wink in his direction
once or twice, but the light wasn't very good so he was probably imagining it.
The biggest change from San Diego was that no one asked him why he was wearing
makeup, or called him names. Best of all, Tommy wouldn't let Adam leave until
he'd written his phone number on Adam's wrist and extracted a promise that he'd
call. Adam couldn't remember his new phone number to give Tommy in return, but
he had no intention of going back on his promise, so he wasn't all that worried
about not seeing him again.
In the remaining week before school started, Tommy practically lived at Adam's
house. It turned out that Tommy played guitar as well as bass, and he'd bring
his acoustic over and make Adam sing Depeche Mode songs until Neil threatened
to break down the bedroom door and kill them both with a spoon. They watched
movies—Tommy tried to sneak Nightmare on Elm Street in twice, but Adam put his
foot down and put Romeo + Juliet on instead—ate microwave popcorn, and drank so
much soda that Adam's mom asked if he was buying stock in Pepsi. One day Tommy
asked Adam to do his makeup, and when Adam tried to go with subtle—not much
more than Tommy already did on his own, really—Tommy complained and made him
add two shades of eye shadow plus Adam's darkest lipstick, which Adam himself
had only worn to Rocky Horror once.
"I've known you like five days," Tommy said the Saturday before classes
started. "And you're totally like the best friend I've ever had."
Boys, in Adam's experience, didn't put all that stuff out there the way Tommy
did, and he wasn't sure what to say. But he felt the same way, so he nodded and
sat on his hands so he didn't grab Tommy and hug him to death. He still wasn't
sure how Tommy would feel about that.
Adam was still waiting and wondering how Tommy might react to friendly hugs
hello and goodbye when they skipped right over that step to kissing. The first
time was behind the library after school on the one-month anniversary of the
night they met—though that was purely a coincidence, and neither of them
noticed the date until Willow pointed it out months later. They had a project
to do for History, but Mr. Giles wouldn't let them in the library until four
thirty. He was very mysterious about it, too, and they were curious, so decided
to wait instead of just doing it the next day. They sat on a low wall under a
tree, watching people leave to catch their buses or pack into the cars in the
parking lot. Thinking he should probably do something other than watch how the
sun glinted off the white-blond streaks in Tommy's hair, Adam got their text
book out.
"I broke up with Dee," Tommy blurted when Adam tried to ask a question about
the Constitution.
"Oh," Adam said. "Sorry?" He really needed to work on his sincere voice.
"No," Tommy said, picking the nail polish off his thumb. "I mean—" He darted a
look around, didn't see anyone, and dove at Adam, mashing their lips together
for a moment before sitting back and looking at Adam through his eyelashes.
"Oh!" Adam said a second time. Then, "Sorry," again, this time apologizing for
not getting it at first. Before Tommy could repeat his protest, though, Adam
buried his fingers in the shaggy Mohawk at the back of Tommy's neck and tugged
him forward for a real kiss.
Clearly surprised, despite having started it, Tommy grabbed at Adam's shirt to
keep his balance, making Adam choke as it tightened around his neck. They
bumped noses and pulled apart. "I'm usually better at this," Tommy said.
"I'm—" Adam didn't actually know if he was a good kisser or not, as his only
experience was kissing Becky Shulman in a spin-the-bottle game at theater camp
when he was thirteen, and that had barely been a peck on the lips. "Do you want
to try again?"
Tommy put a hand on Adam's thigh and was starting to lean in when he looked
over Adam's shoulder and jerked back. "Yeah," he whispered. "Later, though."
"What's up, Glambert?" a large blond guy in a letter jacket said, walking past
looking like he smelled something he didn't like. Adam had no idea who he was,
though clearly he knew Adam, at least by reputation. But Tommy had kissed him,
and wanted to do it again, so Adam couldn't even muster up any disappointment
that he didn't leave all the bullies behind in San Diego.
Just then, Willow and some of her friends came out of the library. She waved
and smiled, but had a worried look on her face, and with a gesture that Adam
took to mean she'd see them later, she hurried off with the other two in the
opposite direction.
"That's Buffy and Xander," Tommy said. "I'm pretty sure Buffy has superpowers."
"Superpowers." Adam remembered Willow warning him the night they met against
walking anywhere alone after dark or talking to strangers. "Like Batman?" As
soon as the words were out of his mouth, Adam recalled that Batman had gadgets
more than superpowers. He wasn't very up on comic books.
But Tommy didn't call him on it, just said, "Sort of. She doesn't drive
though." He stood and held out a hand to Adam.
Stuffing his book back in his bag, Adam let Tommy pull him up. He wasn't sure
what driving had to do with anything, but he'd learned by now that Tommy didn't
always make sense at first, but often his leaps of logic weren't really leaps
if you paid more attention, so he let it slide. Tommy kept his hand in Adam's
even after they started walking toward the library door, which was now propped
open.
"I used to want to be Robin because that seemed like the best chance I had to
get to drive the Batmobile. But, like, I think only Batman gets to drive it."
The Batmobile. Of course. "You'd look pretty good in Robin's tights, though,"
Adam risked saying. Tommy just smiled at him, which was a huge improvement on
punching him in the stomach. Adam had definitely never met anyone quite like
Tommy before.
Mr. Giles was very helpful, though it was pretty obvious he was only doing it
to get them out of the library quickly. They left laden with four books and a
list of dates Giles gave them as soon as they mentioned their topic was the
Fourteenth Amendment.
"We can finish up at my house," Adam said, hopeful note too obvious in his
ears. The project wasn't due until the next week, and his mom was at work, and
Neil had been spending a lot of time after school practicing piano in the band
room, so they'd probably have the house to themselves.
"Okay," Tommy said, giving Adam a slow smile before nuzzle-bumping Adam's
shoulder with his cheek.
Finishing up what they'd started under the tree, then, rather than their
project. Adam wasn't going to complain about that.
They held hands all the way to Tommy's Pinto in the parking lot, and once they
were moving, Tommy gave Adam heated looks every time they hit a stop sign.
Unable to believe his luck, Adam kept wanting to ask if Tommy was sure about
this, but by some kind of miracle he managed to keep his mouth shut. He didn't
want Tommy to think Adam wasn't sure. Because Adam was sure. Scared, yeah. But
definitely sure.
Adam's luck held, and no one was home when they got there. Nervous, he offered
Tommy a drink, and something to eat, but Tommy just said, "Maybe later," and
gave Adam a look that had Adam wondering how to get air into his lungs.
Once they were in his bedroom, Adam wasn't sure what to do. Were they supposed
to take their shirts off? Kiss standing up? Get on the bed before they did
anything? Was he supposed to lie down, or sit knee-to-knee with Tommy like they
were under the tree? Tommy stood looking at him like he thought Adam would make
the first move, and Adam would have been happy to, if only he knew what the
first move was. Finally, after what seemed like half an hour, Tommy toed his
shoes off and sat on Adam's bed, twining his fingers in Adam's and tugging him
forward.
"My boots," Adam said, reluctantly pulling his hand away from Tommy's.
Tommy didn't seem to mind Adam pausing, though, just used the time to gaze at
Adam from under his eyelashes some more while he moved to lie down in the
center of the mattress. He didn't remove his shirt, so Adam left his on, too,
and once he had his shoes off he climbed onto the bed.
In his head, Adam confidently pulled Tommy close and kissed him, rolling them
so Tommy wasn't crushed under him and Adam could run his hands over Tommy's
ass. In reality he froze, lying on his side about eight inches from Tommy,
looking, but scared to touch.
"I won't bite," Tommy said softly, putting a hand on Adam's wrist, and then
even more quietly, "But you're welcome to if you want."
Adam said something that sounded like, "gnnumff," and let Tommy drag his hand
across to Tommy's far hip. Before Adam could even process how amazing that was,
Tommy was wiggling underneath him, wrapping his arms around Adam's neck and
kissing him. Really kissing him, slow and hot and wet and pretty much the most
amazing thing Adam had ever felt in his life.
It turned out he didn't really need to worry about whether he was good at it or
not, because his brain was short circuiting, and he just acted on instinct. He
opened his mouth when Tommy's tongue touched his lips, and then found his hand
on the back of Tommy's neck, lifting him so he could kiss him more deeply, lick
at his tongue and teeth. Tommy went soft and pliant under him, except for his
dick, which he was grinding up against Adam's thigh. The feeling of Tommy
bending so easily where Adam pushed him made Adam crazy with want, and he
pushed more, sliding a hand up Tommy's arm to his wrist, pinning it to the bed
above his head while Adam shifted so he could rub his own dick against Tommy's
hip.
Tommy started whimpering and thrusting harder, twisting his wrist in Adam's
grip, but before Adam could worry if he should let go, Tommy was trying to push
his other arm into the circle of Adam's fingers.
"God, Tommy," Adam whispered, widening his hold to wrap around Tommy's crossed
wrists and push both Tommy's arms into the pillows. "You're so—"
"Fuck, fuck, just—" Tommy arched his back, exposing his neck, and Adam
remembered what he said about biting.
"Can I—" Adam licked the spot just above where the muscle that started under
his ear curved out to Tommy's shoulder, and when Tommy gasped, Adam fastened
his lips around the spot and sucked gently.
"Yes, oh my god, fuck—" Tommy pressed up into the suction, so Adam used his
teeth, biting down until he felt Tommy shivering underneath him. Tommy was
panting, and making little gasping noises, each one ratcheting up Adam's urge
to bite and suck, to leave his mark.
Adam felt like he was going to cry, or explode, or come in his pants, and was
grinding against Tommy harder and harder, pulling his hair to arch his neck
higher, wrenching keening sounds from his throat. There were so many clothes
between them and Adam wanted them gone, but there was no way he could let go to
do anything about that, so he just rubbed through the layers of cotton
separating them, his thigh against Tommy's dick, his dick against Tommy's hip.
With a leg hooked over the back of Adam's knee, Tommy had enough leverage to
give himself the friction he needed to come, rocking up and up against the
pressure, shuddering so hard when he got there that he nearly bucked Adam off.
The feeling of it, the way he went rigid and then limp, made Adam's stomach
jump and roll deliciously. He let go Tommy's wrists so he could gather him up,
tip them onto their sides, kiss all over Tommy's face, not coordinated enough
to find his lips again.
One of Tommy's hands threaded through Adam's hair, stilling him enough to kiss
him properly, and the other he wormed between them, finding Adam's dick and
giving him something to press against that pressed back. When Tommy's fingers
curled around his length, Adam choked on an embarrassed noise and came, shaking
with the release before collapsing half onto Tommy again.
"Sorry," he murmured into Tommy's neck. He tried to get his elbows underneath
him, but it was kind of a lost cause. "You okay?"
"Mmmm," Tommy said. "Mmmmm mmm mmmmmm." He used the arm around Adam's neck to
pull him even closer.
Adam gave in, just shifting his leg a little to get more comfortable before
relaxing completely, succumbing to the way Tommy was petting his hair,
drifting, blissed out.
 
                                    ******
 
Adam thought they should keep the nature of their relationship secret at
school, but that worked about as well as keeping it a secret from his mom who
had been in the kitchen when they came downstairs that first day. She'd taken
one look at Tommy in one of Adam's t-shirts—which looked ridiculous but was
long enough to cover the stain on Tommy's jeans—and with a giant hickey on his
neck, and figured out what was going on. At the time she just smiled and told
Tommy it was nice to see him again, but after Adam had walked Tommy out to his
car she told her son she was glad he'd found a nice boy, but gave him the same
speech she gave him at thirteen when his dad found him watching gay porn on the
computer, about condoms and water-based lube and being sure you were sure
before going too far. Same as he had then, Adam kind of wanted to die, even
though he knew he was lucky as anything that he had his mom and not someone who
thought he was going to hell for wanting to make out with boys instead of
girls.
In the cafeteria at lunch time, Willow skipped the talk about condoms, but eyed
the bite-mark on Tommy's neck carefully and then asked Adam a bunch of bizarre
questions about garlic bread and sunbathing and the mirror he used to put on
his makeup.
"Is there some kind of rule against hickeys?" Adam asked her. He wanted to ask
her if she was on drugs, but that didn't seem politic.
"You can never be too careful around here," she said. Which didn't exactly make
things any clearer, but she seemed to be satisfied after that, and moved on to
asking Tommy if he'd done his computer homework yet and if he wanted any help
with it.
Tommy hadn't understood why Adam wanted to keep things a secret, anyway. When
Adam told him about the name calling and the pushing and being stuffed into
lockers, he just said, "You won't let that happen," which was ridiculously
naïve. But Adam couldn't bring himself to pull away when Tommy wanted to hold
his hand in the halls or kiss him goodbye when they had separate classes, so he
hoped that the rock-band cool factor, or whatever it was that seemed to protect
Oz from all kinds of flack despite his size and general oddness, shielded
Tommy, too.
It turned out that bullies were not what Adam needed to worry about protecting
Tommy from, and that being attacked had nothing to do with whether or not they
were out at school.
The two of them had been at the Bronze with Oz and Willow, Xander, Buffy, and
Xander's girlfriend Cordelia, and were walking home, when an attractive but
brittle-looking girl with long red hair appeared out of nowhere and got between
them, edging Tommy toward a darkened parking lot with a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey!" Adam said, going to pull her off Tommy. She was much stronger than she
looked. He pushed her harder, which gave Tommy time to dart around her and back
to Adam's side.
"He's pretty," she said. "I want him."
"Well you can't—" Adam started, but he was interrupted by the sight of someone
small and blonde vaulting the fence by the lot and stabbing the woman in the
chest with… a piece of wood.
"What?" he said, but before he could go further, the redhead burst into a cloud
of dust and disappeared. The blonde turned around and was Buffy.
"Hi, guys," she said, like this was totally normal behavior.
"Hey Buffy," said Tommy. "Thanks. That was pretty cool."
"Her superpower is turning people into dust?" Adam's brain was pretty much
running around screaming, but he sounded remarkably calm. And only a tad
incredulous.
"Not people," said Buffy. "Vampires."
Tommy had edged closer and was checking out Buffy's stake. "Not as high-tech as
Batman, but it sure does the job."
"Batman?" Buffy said.
"It's a long story," Adam answered. "Did you just say vampires?"
"Didn't Willow tell you?"
"She somehow forgot to mention that."
"I thought it was a metaphor," Tommy said.
"A metaphor for what?" Now Adam sounded incredulous.
"You know, like, creatures of the night, preying on the innocent."
"That's actually the literal definition of vampires," Buffy pointed out.
"I meant more in the way Freddy Krueger is the boogey man," Tommy said.
Buffy looked from Tommy to Adam, a question in her eyes.
"I have no idea what either of you are talking about," Adam said. "But I'm
pretty sure I don't like it."
"It's not general knowledge," Buffy said, "but Sunnydale is built on a
Hellmouth. There's all kinds of stuff here you won't like."
"That explains a lot, actually," Tommy said.
Adam didn't want to know.
"Vampires, demons, sea monsters, mummies that come to life, that kind of
thing," Buffy continued.
"And Halloween costumes that turn kids into real zombies," Tommy added.
"I don't want to know." What Adam did want was to sit down. So he did, right
there on the curb, not even caring that he was getting his new jeans dirty.
"Hey," Tommy said, sitting with him and wrapping Adam's arm around his
shoulders. "You get used to it. It's okay."
"How is it okay?" But Adam did feel better stroking a hand up and down Tommy's
arm, knowing that it was his boyfriend's head resting heavy on his collar bone.
"We have Buffy," Tommy said, like that one thing mitigated all the rest.
"Come on," Buffy said. "I'll walk you home. I have to patrol that way anyway."
Much as Adam wanted to be the guy who could protect his boyfriend on his own,
vampires and school bullies were not even in the same league, so he wasn't
going to turn down a girl with superpowers and a sharp stick.
                                    ******
Weirdly, Tommy was actually right. Adam did get used to the strange goings on
in Sunnydale. He cornered Willow one evening while Oz and Tommy were at band
practice and made her give him a rundown of everything she knew about the
Hellmouth, which despite being mostly rather horrifying, made him feel better.
Then she explained about the whole Slayer thing, and Buffy, and Giles, and told
him about the other slayer in town, Faith.
"She's not much like Buffy," Willow said, "but she's useful, mostly."
Adam had to believe, after everything Willow had told him, that with regards to
having two super-strong girls instead of one who knew how to fight vampires and
demons, "useful" was not nearly a strong enough word.
"And I guess I should tell you about Oz," Willow said, once she'd exhausted
(Adam hoped) the topic of strange goings on over a Hellmouth.
Adam was expecting the story of how someone as smart as Oz managed to fail to
graduate, or maybe something about how she and Oz had gotten together. He did
not expect to hear, "He's a werewolf."
A few weeks before, he would have been certain she was joking. Which might
explain why he said, "You're joking," even though he was pretty sure she
wasn't.
"No. His cousin bit him." Willow sounded resigned to this instead of totally
freaked out. Then again, she had lived here all her life.
"And this is…" Adam trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say.
"Well it isn't of the good, obviously, but he's got a cage and everything. You
know."
Adam did not know, but that was fine with him. He changed the subject.
"So how did you two get together?"
Willow seemed pleased with the new topic, and Adam enjoyed watching her light
up as she talked about Oz. He hadn't always been the strutting, eyeliner-
wearing, confident-seeming guy he tried so hard to be now, and he could tell
that Willow had had her share of self-conscious days, too. He was queer, she
was brainy, but the why of your difference didn't matter much to kids; they'd
beat you down anyway. Oz clearly made her feel beautiful as well as smart, and
there was something about him that straightened her spine, made her walk tall.
Adam loved Oz a little bit for that. He felt like his smooth transition in
Sunnydale was in large part to Willow's friendship, and he had no way to repay
her, so he was glad someone was giving her the happiness she'd helped him find.
Which, okay, all sounded a little melodramatic when he thought about it like
that, but Adam never thought he'd get a boyfriend at all, much less one who
made him as happy as Tommy Joe Ratliff made him, and Willow had introduced
them, and he could be sappy about it if he wanted to. Even his mother called
him a drama queen, after all.
 
After their talk, Willow and Adam fell into a habit of hanging out when the
Dingoes were rehearsing. She knew a lot about things he knew nothing about,
like demons and witchcraft and computers and math, and very little about things
he knew lots about, like makeup and singing and acting and going to a high
school where none of the teachers turned out to be praying-mantis creatures, so
they always had a lot to talk about. One day they hung out at Adam's house
after school, but his mom got all excited about the whole Jewish thing, and
though she never said anything about how nice it would be if Adam were dating a
nice Jewish girl—and she never would—he couldn't help wondering if she was
thinking it, so after that he and Willow were much more likely to hang out at
the mall or sit in Tommy's car outside Phil and Axel's garage and solve the
world's problems.
The Winter Ball was coming up, and Adam and Tommy went together to rent their
tuxes, but Willow didn't want Oz to see her dress before the dance, so after
Buffy stood her up twice in favor of fulfilling slayer duties, she asked Adam
to come with her to help her find one. She complained his first three choices
were too low cut, and his fourth choice was too short, but she finally let him
put her in a gorgeous purple dress that clung in all the right places and
draped at an angle toward her left ankle. She even let him talk her into
strappy, heeled shoes with diamante buckles. As they were walking through the
mall with the dress bag, a woman at one of the makeup counters spied a ready
mark and convinced Willow she needed a new look for the dance.
Adam wasn't going to argue that Willow would look fantastic with more dramatic
eyes and a great lipstick, but what she ended up with was more horror show than
holiday soiree. Willow blanched when she saw herself in the mirror, but before
she could say anything, Adam thanked the woman and whisked Willow away,
grabbing a couple remover wipes from the next empty counter they passed.
"Never mind," he said, pushing her into a corner and attacking her face with
the wipes. "I'll just have to do it myself. God. Who taught that woman to put
on eye shadow? Boris Karloff?"
"I think I looked more like Marcel Marceau," Willow said, batting at Adam's
hands and scrubbing at her eyes herself.
"Whatever. I'll make you look gorgeous. Not—I mean, you don't need makeup to be
gorgeous." The last thing Adam wanted to do was make Willow feel even more
uncomfortable.
"I know you have a thing for eyeliner." Willow gave him a smile.
Adam thought about Tommy, and how it had felt holding Tommy's chin in his hand
as he smoothed silver shadow over his eyelids, and the way his lashes had
fluttered when Adam told him he could open his eyes, and how gorgeous he was
with his makeup smeared after they kissed and Tommy rubbed his face on Adam's
neck—
"Yeah," he said. "I really do."
"Just because I let you put makeup on me doesn't mean you're getting in my
pants, though."
"Where's the fun in that, then?"
Willow laughed, and let Adam take her home and show her what she looked like
with her makeup done right to match her dress. When the night of the dance
rolled around, Oz couldn't speak for more than a minute after he saw Willow.
Willow's grin made Adam feel almost as amazing as being at a school dance with
his boyfriend.
Not that taking a boy to the winter formal was totally without its problems—a
girl told them they were gross, but scuttled off when Oz growled at her, and
the kid who called Adam "Glambert" that first day he kissed Tommy shoved them
and called them fags, though Mr. Giles escorted him out before Adam even had
time to retort—but all the static was worth it to be on the dance floor with
Tommy, who looked amazing in his tuxedo and fit perfectly against Adam's chest,
swaying to the music, no one telling them they couldn't be there. No one who
mattered anyway.
It felt magical.
                                    ******
Much less magical was the feeling when Adam's mom told him that he and Neil
would be spending winter break back in San Diego with their dad. Not that he
didn't want to see his dad, because he did. Just—not if it meant not seeing
Tommy for two weeks.
"Can't Dad come here?" Adam tried, and even, "Can't we just go for one week
instead?" But Leila wasn't hearing any arguments.
Eber drove up to collect them after work on the last Friday of classes, and
spent the night, which gave Adam a brief moment of hope that his dad could just
stay with them for break after all and he wouldn't have to leave Tommy behind,
but the next morning they drove back down to San Diego without even one last
chance for Adam to say goodbye.
"What's your brother sulking about?" Eber asked Neil, who was sitting with him
in the front. His eyes were on Adam in the rear-view mirror though, like he
really cared and wasn't just making conversation.
"He doesn't want to leave behind his stupid boyfriend," Neil said.
"Tommy's not stupid!" Adam retorted, even though he knew Neil was just baiting
him and it was better not to rise to it.
"All you want to do is like, make out all the time. It's gross."
"A boyfriend?" Eber said. "Is this new?"
Adam heard a tinge of hurt in the words and realized he hadn't really talked to
his dad since they moved; he'd been too busy making friends and spending time
with Tommy, and coming to terms with the whole vampires-are-real thing.
"Yeah," Adam started, not wanting his dad to think he was trying to keep things
from him, but Neil interrupted.
"They've only been like licking each other in the living room for a couple
months, but Adam's been all obsessed with him since August."
"We don't— Neil, just shut up," Adam protested, but he could see the flash of a
frown between his dad's eyebrows before Eber plastered a hearty smile on his
face.
"Sounds like we have lots to catch up on," he said.
"We've all been pretty busy," Adam agreed.
They drove almost ten miles with nothing but the sound of the scratchy mixed
tape to break the silence before Neil launched into a story about Sunnydale's
jazz band and how the piano player was a senior so Neil might try out next
year. Eber asked him all kinds of questions, which broke the tension, and the
rest of the drive felt easier.
 
It was weird being in San Diego but in a totally different place. There were
only two bedrooms: Eber's, and a smaller one that was clearly usually an
office, with trundle beds for the boys.
"You're kidding, right?" Neil said when he saw the beds, which were only about
ten inches apart in order to fit in the room with the desk and bookshelves.
"Lots of brothers share all the time," Eber said. "You'll live for two weeks."
"It's great to see you, Dad," Adam said, glaring at his brother while Eber had
his back turned for a moment. "This will be fine." Adam set down his backpack.
"What's for lunch?" Neil asked, throwing his bag onto the bed by the wall.
"Let's go see what I have in the fridge," Eber said.
Adam didn't follow them, instead looking at the phone on the desk and wondering
if he could get away with calling Tommy before they ate without anyone
noticing. He still hadn't come to a decision when his hand reached out and
starting dialing of its own volition. Tommy picked up on the first ring.
"I've been hoping you would call!" he said.
Hearing Tommy's voice made Adam realize that a little part of him had been sure
that Tommy was glad he was gone, and how stupid that was. "Oh my god, I miss
you," Adam said, letting just how much color his words.
They talked for about ten minutes—alternating ridiculous mushy talk that they
never said in person with news about the drive, and a show the Dingoes were
playing, and how much homework they each had left to do before school started
again—before Eber called from the kitchen that lunch was ready. Adam almost
said, "I love you," but neither of them had said it yet, and he didn't want the
first time to be on the phone. Plus, it was probably too soon, anyway. So he
just told Tommy again that he missed him and that he'd try to call him later,
and went to eat.
 
Adam and his dad and brother had three days of father-son adventures and
catching up, some of which was painfully post-divorce cliché, and some of which
was actually fun, but by the end of it, Adam had had enough for a while. When
on the fourth morning Eber suggested they go to Belmont Park and Neil agreed
enthusiastically, Adam asked if he could just stay at the apartment.
"I've got an essay to write for English," he said, "and I'm kind of tired after
the movie last night." They'd gone to the late show and hadn't gotten home
until almost one in the morning, so it wasn't entirely an excuse.
"I thought we could go as a family," Eber said.
Adam didn't say anything about Mom and the fact that she was part of the family
too, choosing the less inflammatory, "You know how easily I get sunburned
places like that, and if I write the essay today I don't have to worry about it
for the rest of the trip."
When his dad didn't say anything right away, Adam added, "And maybe just you
and I could go do something later in the week; that way we can each have some
time alone with you."
"Nothing too fun," Neil said.
Eber laughed. "Okay Mr. Charming. Today your brother and I are going to have
bonding-at-the-beach time, and you and I can go do something out of the sun and
let your brother go out with his friends this weekend."
"Thanks, Dad."
When the other two took off after breakfast, Adam did actually sit down with
his book and his notes, and managed to write about four paragraphs before he
decided he needed to talk to his boyfriend. He didn't even think about the fact
that Tommy might be sleeping at ten in the morning on a school vacation.
"'Lo?" Tommy said, voice all adorably muffled. Not that Adam mentioned the
adorable part.
"Sorry. You were sleeping. I'll let you go."
"Mmm, no," Tommy said. "Dreaming about you. Talk to me."
Adam didn't know what to say.
"Still there?" Tommy rolled over, or did something anyway that made the sound
of skin on sheets. Adam got thinking about Tommy's skin on his sheets.
"What are you wearing?" Adam asked, genuinely curious, only realizing after the
words were out that it sounded like he was trying to start some corny phone
sex.
"Boxers," Tommy said, voice still low and slurred, and okay, maybe phone sex
wasn't as corny as Adam thought. His dick certainly thought it sounded like a
good plan.
"Was it a good dream?" Adam considered moving from the desk to the bed, but
thought that might be weird.
"Fuck, yeah," Tommy said. "You were on top of me, gonna fuck me, and I wanted
it so bad."
That was not— Adam had no idea what to say to that. They'd pretty much only
done hand jobs so far and Tommy had said he wanted to try giving head, but just
talking about it made Adam shoot, and then he was too embarrassed to let Tommy
try. "Oh!" he said.
Tommy caught the surprise in his voice. "You don't have to do that or anything.
It was just a dream."
"But you wanted me to?" Tommy was so easy about stuff that Adam still worried
about. It was like all Tommy wanted was to be with Adam, and being gay didn't
even matter.
"So bad. Fuck." Tommy's breath hitched. "I have really fucking good wet dreams
about you fucking me, actually."
So, sitting at the desk wasn't gonna work anymore. Adam stood and shucked off
his jeans, lying down on the bed, phone tucked under his ear.
"Was that you getting in bed?" Tommy asked, smile in his voice.
"Yeah." Adam eased his hand into his briefs, adjusting his thickening dick. "I
like the thought of you having wet dreams about me."
"Bet you'd love fucking me," Tommy said, and Adam heard more rustling fabric.
"I'd be so hot and tight around your dick."
Adam whimpered.
"You could open me up first with your fingers, get me all wet, or I could do it
if you want to just watch."
It felt like Adam's face was on fire. He couldn't understand how Tommy could
just come out with this stuff, how he wasn't dying of embarrassment, but Adam
didn't want him to stop. "Have you—" He couldn't finish.
Tommy huffed a low short laugh. "I bought some stuff yesterday. Haven't tried
it yet, but I've been thinking about it for a while."
"Oh my god," Adam said, dick going from half to fully-hard at the thought of
Tommy fucking himself on his fingers.
"I won't—if you don't want—" There was an edge of nervousness in Tommy's voice.
"Oh no, I want. God, I want to see it."
"I'll totally wait for you to get home."
Adam thought about that. And thought about hearing Tommy do it now, the sounds
he'd maybe make, and how it might be less embarrassing the first time if Adam
wasn't watching. "No," he said. "Want you to do it now, on the phone."
It was Tommy's turn to whimper.
"I'm hard thinking about it," Adam said. "Already touching myself." Might as
well go for this if they were doing it.
"Wish I could touch it for you," Tommy said, then, "Shit. I have to—Hang on.
I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere. Maybe get naked. I like you naked." That
was followed by the sound of the phone being dropped on his bedside table and
bedsprings squeaking a little.
Adam wasn't sure how long he'd have to wait, so he tried to keep the phone to
his ear while he took his shirt off, and ended up dropping it on the floor so
it slid under the bed, which meant he had to get down on his hands and knees.
Where he realized that he was on his hands and knees in his underwear in his
dad's spare room about to have phone sex with a boy. A boy who wanted Adam to
fuck him. Who was about to use his own fingers on himself while he talked to
Adam on the phone and maybe told Adam what it felt like. This was both awesome
and terrifying and Adam totally fumbled trying to pick the phone up, pushing it
farther away.
"I dropped the phone," he called, just in case Tommy was back and wondering
where the hell Adam had gone. He heard a giggle coming from the receiver and
was glad he'd said something.
"I dropped the phone," he said again once he'd gotten it back to his ear. "I
was taking my shirt off."
"I still have that hickey you gave me under my collar bone," Tommy said. "I
like to press on it and think about you."
Adam's knees buckled a little at that. "Give a guy some warning," Adam said.
"I'm still standing up."
"Well get back in bed," Tommy said, voice thick with amusement. "I'm all ready
here."
Blessed with a vivid imagination, Adam could clearly see Tommy's bed, Tommy
spread out on it naked, though he'd only been to Tommy's house a couple of
times, since his mom was pretty much always home. He did as he was told.
"Ready how?" Adam asked, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.
"I had to get the stuff, like, the lube?" Tommy said, and Adam realized Tommy
was still nervous, too. It made him feel much better.
"Are you sure—"
"I'm sure," Tommy interrupted. "Go slow and lots of lube, the guy said."
Adam felt a twist of jealousy. "What guy?"
"This guy wrote like a thing on the internet. Anyway. I've got the lube. Are we
doing this?"
Adam squeezed his dick through his underwear. "Yeah," he said.
There was the squelching sound of Tommy priming a pump top and Adam realized he
hadn't just bought a little packet, he'd stocked up. He was serious about this.
"What does it feel like?" Adam asked.
"Nothing, yet," Tommy said. "Give me a minute."
While he waited, Adam pushed his briefs down over his thighs and cupped his
junk, rubbing his dick a little.
"It's slippery," Tommy said.
When Adam had turned sixteen, his dad had a more in-depth talk about safe sex
with him than the one his mother had given him when he was thirteen and they
found out he was gay. There was a bottle of Wet and a box of condoms involved,
and a pamphlet that had a series of pictures of a twenty-something man rolling
a rubber onto a banana. Adam had been extremely thankful that he didn't have to
watch his father doing the banana trick, but it had still been pretty much
completely mortifying. He'd slunk into his room, condoms and lube in hand, and
wondered if his father had been trying to put him off sex forever. He also
wondered if his father had maybe succeeded. But a few weeks later he'd pulled
the lube out of the drawer where he'd shoved it, and used it to rub himself
off. It had definitely been slippery. And good, but not good enough that he
could face buying another bottle once that one ran out. He wondered now if
Tommy had been embarrassed buying it, or if he'd just picked it up like he was
buying a six-pack of Coke.
"Slippery good?" Adam said.
Tommy huffed a small laugh again. "Yeah, good. Not like lotion."
"You've tried this with lotion?"
"Just jerking off. Not—" Tommy took a shuddering breath. "—not this."
Adam pictured Tommy's fingers, long and dexterous, slick with lube, sliding
down past his balls to his hole where Adam had always been too shy to touch.
"Now what does it feel like?" Adam asked.
"A little weird, but not bad weird." A shifting noise again, making Adam
visualize Tommy wiggling down the bed, spreading his legs wider. "Like, things
shouldn't go in there? But, like, it kind of makes me want more, too."
It was harder than Adam had expected not being able to watch Tommy's face while
he did this, and Adam's fingers itched to feel what Tommy was feeling. Adam
reached down and brushed his middle finger against his own hole, but it was
closed tight, and pressing on it just made it tighter, so he jerked his dick a
few times instead. "How many fingers are you using?"
"Just one right now. A little past the first knuckle." Tommy took two deep
breaths. "Yeah. Slow is good. I don't know how you're supposed to fit a dick in
here."
"Don't hurt yourself." Adam was envisioning Tommy breaking his ass forever. He
did not want that to happen.
"I'm being careful. Thinking about your fingers on me like this, rubbing,
moving in and out, and you're kissing me, biting that spot on my neck you like
so much."
"I only like it because you like it so much."
"I do like it," Tommy said. "Wish you were here right now."
"I wish, too."
"This is—I really want you inside me." Tommy's breath hitched. "I think
you'd—oh, fuck. Oh—"
"You okay?"
A pause, during which Adam tried not to panic, and then, "Yeah. Jesus. That was
intense. And, god. If you can do that with your dick, I'm pretty sure I want
you fucking me always."
Adam wondered how mad his dad would be if he hotwired one of the neighbor's
cars and went back to Sunnydale in order to get his hands on his boyfriend's
ass. "Do what with my dick?" Adam asked.
"I don't know. I had my finger all the way in, and I was rubbing—" Tommy
grunted softly like he was lifting a box that was heavier than he expected.
"Damn. Now I can't find it again. But it felt good."
"It's driving me crazy that I'm not there." The need to be with Tommy was
lodged in Adam's chest, and he realized that he was practically drilling the
phone through his skull in an effort to get closer.
"Yeah. I think I want to do this with you." More sounds of shifting came
through the phone. "But I'm totally jerking off right now, and I think you
should too."
Adam thought he could probably manage that.
It didn't take either of them long, but Tommy came first, saying, "Come on,
baby, fuck. Adam, just do it," his voice all ragged, mashing Adam's buttons,
making him jerk his dick faster until he was coming, grunting Tommy's name.
Afterglow via telephone was just not the same, but they did their best, before
Tommy said he'd better shower, and Adam decided he really ought to write his
essay. This time Adam couldn't stop himself saying, "I love you," before he
hung up.
Tommy laughed delightedly. "Good," he said. "I love you too."
It was more than two hours before Adam could even think about starting his
essay again. He just lay on the bed, sheet pulled over his hips, smiling about
the fact that Tommy loved him.
                                    ******
By the end of the first week at his dad's, Adam had spent at least six hours on
the phone with Tommy, and four or five with Willow, but it wasn't until Neil
asked Eber's permission to call a friend in Sunnydale that it occurred to Adam
he maybe should have checked that his dad had a long-distance plan.
Fortunately, Eber's response was that it only cost a penny a minute, so Neil
was welcome to use the phone. This meant Adam could stop picturing a letter
arriving in the middle of January claiming he owed his father seven hundred
dollars.
"Can I call my friend when Neil's done?" Adam asked.
"Your boyfriend?" Eber sounded like he was eager to hear more about Tommy, even
though Adam had already told him pretty much everything a guy would want his
parents to know about anyone he was making out with on a regular basis.
"My friend Willow," Adam answered. "The one whose boyfriend is in the Dingoes
with Tommy?" He'd told his father about meeting Willow, too, trying to make up
for all the talking they hadn't done since the move.
"Oh, right," Eber said. "Of course. Just don't fight over the phone."
Eber was going to work, having taken extra days off around the standard
Christmas holidays so they could all spend time together, but wanting to save
some of his vacation days for Adam and Neil's summer break.
"I'm going over to Jesse's house anyway at eleven," Neil said. "He can talk on
the phone all he wants."
Eber smiled at his youngest. "Say hi to Jesse for me," he said. "And Adam, try
to get some fresh air; don't just spend all day gabbing on the phone."
"I don't gab," Adam retorted, but his dad was right that he was more likely to
spend all afternoon on the phone than wandering the neighborhood.
Willow wasn't home when Adam called at eleven fifteen, but she called him back
just after twelve thirty. Mindful of his father's words, Adam took the portable
phone from the office out onto the balcony, dragging one of the chairs half
into the shade of the balcony above.
"Hey," he said. "How's the Hellmouth?"
Willow tsk'd but caught him up on slayer news—Faith and Buffy had gotten into a
fight over Buffy's ex, Angel, who was a vampire, except good, except evil,
except good, parts of which story Adam had heard before, but none of which he
was exactly clear on—and on the progress of her English essay since they'd last
spoken two days before.
"How are you not done yet?" Adam asked. "I finished mine in a day, and you're
much smarter than I am."
"Oz and I have been—" Willow started, cutting herself off abruptly. "He's
distracting, okay?"
"Good distracting? Or like you've been fighting?"
Willow let out a nervous-sounding giggle. "Good distracting."
Adam and Willow had gotten a lot closer in the last week, the phone adding a
physical barrier that somehow broke down their filters, allowing them to talk
about things they would have been too embarrassed to discuss in person. The
last time they'd talked, the day after his phone sex conversation with Tommy,
Adam had tried to bring up talking dirty as a hypothetical, but had ended up
going into some of the less graphic details about how Tommy wanted Adam to fuck
him, and how even though Adam wanted it too, it was sometimes really
intimidating that Tommy had more experience with sex than he did. Adam had been
out for so long that a big part of him felt like he was the more experienced
one, plus he was taller and used to being the older brother type, and he didn't
even know all the reasons why, but he knew his own silly expectations made it
all worse.
"At least you're exploring the gay sex part of it together," Willow had said.
"Oz has done lots more than I have, but all with girls, so nothing with me is
new to him."
Having heard some from Tommy about Oz's previous hook-ups, Adam was sure the
emotional stuff with Willow was new, but he hadn't succeeded in convincing her
of that. They'd ended the conversation talking about how Adam thought he might
want to get to home plate with Tommy, but was afraid of not living up to
Tommy's expectations, and how Willow wasn't sure she wanted to go that far with
Oz or not.
After that conversation, their overshare filters were totally gone, so now Adam
felt comfortable asking, "Did you do it, then?"
"Adam!" Willow said, mock scandalized.
"Well, did you?"
"No…"
Adam couldn't think what Willow and Oz might have done that was a bigger deal
than going all the way, because all his porn-fuelled imaginings seemed
completely implausible for his friend. "You don't have to tell me if you really
don't want to," Adam said, trying to convey just how desperately he wanted to
know without seeming like he wouldn't forgive her if she didn't stump up the
goods.
"It's just—" Willow said. "I don't want you to think I'm, like, weird or
anything."
Adam couldn't stop the bark of laughter that prompted. "Will, you have met me,
right?"
"Yeah, but—" Willow took a deep breath. "Boys in eyeliner is different from
being—" her voice dropped to a whisper— "kinky."
Suddenly all the porn-fuelled imaginings were back. "Kinky how?" he squawked.
"See? You think I'm a freak!"
"Willow, I think you're awesome. And sorry, but now you do have to tell me or I
will die of curiosity, and you will have to explain to Tommy how you killed his
boyfriend by withholding kinky details." Adam considered that. "Not too many
details, though. You and Oz are my friends, and there is probably only so much
information I should have about your sex lives."
Willow hedged and Adam wheedled, but just when he was about to give up, Willow
burst forth with her story. It was both more and less surprising than Adam
expected.
"I like to hold him down," she said. "Like, really holding him. Being in
control of when he touches me, kisses me." She lowered her voice. "He likes it
too. A lot."
"That's just what I like doing with Tommy," Adam said. "I didn't think it was
kinky, though."
"It's totally kinky," Willow answered. "Power play, exploring dominance and
submission—I looked it up." Of course she had. "Oz keeps apologizing when he
goes all kind of limp instead of pushing back, though, and I can't explain to
him that I like that part. It's a turn on."
Adam knew just what she meant about the turn-on part, but couldn't imagine
Tommy apologizing for getting the way he did when Adam man-handled him. It was
almost like Tommy went to a whole other place sometimes, where the only things
he could focus on were Adam's hands and Adam's mouth. He wouldn't hear the
phone ring or Neil coming home, or anything.
"What's he apologizing for?" Adam asked.
"I don't know. He's Oz. Maybe he thinks I want him to be all manly or
something?"
Adam was pretty sure that Oz didn't think anyone who'd ever met him expected
him to be manly in the sense he suspected Willow meant it, but he couldn't
think of a way to say that which didn't sound like an insult, so he just said,
"Maybe."
"Anyway, it's way more interesting than you'd think, all this power-play
stuff," Willow said. Adam was pretty sure he found it pretty interesting
already. She told him more about the things she'd found in her research and was
in the middle of asking if Adam had ever considered tying Tommy to the bed when
she suddenly said, "Dad's home, better go," and hung up. Which left Adam with a
very clear picture of Tommy tied to his bed, naked, while Adam touched him
anywhere he wanted.
"Divorce fucking sucks," Adam muttered, and, leaving the chair on the deck, he
went inside and took his second shower of the day, not wanting to jerk off in
their room when he didn't know when Neil would be home.
                                    ******
Eber got the boys back to Sunnydale after dinner Sunday night, and they were
back in school Monday morning. Adam missed Tommy at lockers before class
because Neil couldn't find his math book in his pig-sty of a bedroom so they
were late. Adam managed not to kill him only by dint of the fact that Neil ran
to his own locker faster than Adam could chase him. In lieu of Tommy there was
a note stuffed through Adam's locker vents:
       You better be back. I miss you. See you in English.
                                                                 Love T

Adam spent half of first period grinning.
English was second period, so he didn't have too long to wait, but it still
felt like forever. Fortunately, Tommy's locker was on the way from the chem lab
to their English classroom, so Adam pushed through the throngs of students in
the hopes of meeting Tommy there first so he could actually touch him and not
just say "hi" and gaze at him from two rows over. When he turned the corner
Adam caught sight of Tommy's shock of blond hair. Tommy saw him at the same
time and called, "Adam!" breaking into a run, nearly knocking over a small girl
with long black hair on his way past.
Adam thought he might get a hand squeeze, hoped for a hug, but he'd forgotten
that Tommy was not at all like other high school boys, so was completely
surprised when Tommy jumped on him. He almost knocked Adam over, but Adam
managed to throw out an elbow and catch himself on a locker, catching Tommy
with his other arm.
"Hey," Adam said softly into Tommy's hair as Tommy buried his face in Adam's
neck.
"Mss uffn uch," Tommy said, lips mashed against Adam's pulse.
Tommy was getting heavy, but Adam edged closer to the lockers so he could lean
on them and use both arms to hold his boyfriend. "What, baby?"
"Missed you so fucking much," Tommy clarified, pulling away enough to speak
before sucking Adam's ear lobe into his mouth.
That made Adam's knees go weak enough that he stumbled, banging Tommy's
shoulder into a locker door. Tommy didn't let go, though, instead pulling
himself high enough to wrap his legs around Adam's waist, and tightening his
grip.
"Missed you too, so much," Adam reassured him, and then couldn't stop himself
from cupping the back of Tommy's head and crushing his mouth in a kiss.
"Eeeeeew! Get a room!" came a voice from Adam's right, and god he wanted to so
fucking badly. Instead he pulled Tommy closer, hand fisted in his hair,
deliberately sticking his tongue as far into Tommy's mouth as he could.
"Sorry," he whispered, several seconds later, as he used his grip to pull Tommy
back just enough so their noses were almost brushing. "Those people piss me
off."
But Tommy didn't say anything; he was looking at Adam's mouth like he wanted to
devour it, or crawl inside it, Adam couldn't quite tell. Whatever it was, it
was not a look that said, "Please don't choke me with your tongue ever again."
It was a look that made Adam's dick stiffen in the heat between Tommy's legs.
"Tommy?" Adam asked when Tommy didn't stop staring.
Tommy shook his head, a quick snap, hampered by Adam's fingers in his hair. "We
are not going to English," Tommy said, dropping back to the floor.
"We're not?" Adam was horny, but it was their first day back after vacation.
Their long papers were due. They couldn't just cut.
"I need you," Tommy said, hands clenched in Adam's shirt.
Adam couldn't say no to that. He couldn't. But his mouth had obviously spent
more time listening to his father's lectures about the importance of education
than his dick had. "Our papers, though?"
"Fuck." Tommy stepped back, running his own fingers through his hair, making it
stand even more on end. "They're twenty percent of our grade, and I'm already
kind of sucking in that class. Fuck!" He shoved his thumbs in Adam's front
pockets and tugged him into motion. "English only, though. Then I'm fucking
taking you home."
Adam was so not arguing with that.
In his excitement about seeing Tommy, Adam forgot he would get to see Willow in
English. Her face lit up when the two boys walked through the door. Although
the bell was about to ring, people were still milling around greeting friends
they hadn't seen over the break, so Willow jumped out of her seat and ran over
to give them both hugs. Tommy looked surprised at the greeting and blushed,
which made Adam wonder if Willow didn't usually hug him, but felt closer to him
than she had before because of everything Adam had ended up telling her on the
phone. Before he could worry about it too much though, he looked down and
realized that Tommy had some pretty serious wood going on, which Willow
probably mashed against her stomach when she hugged him. Willow didn't seem to
have noticed.
"I didn't finish my paper until yesterday," Willow said, giving Adam a
significant look filled with her delight at everything she and Oz had done
instead. "And it's not very good."
Adam doubted that, but he didn't have a chance to say anything before Willow
was off again.
"You were gone forever, Adam. Which, I've only known you five months, so, kind
of weird that it seemed like that."
Tommy's hand crept into Adam's, and he linked their fingers like he agreed with
Willow about the forever part and wasn't planning on letting go. Not that Adam
wanted him to. But the bell rang then, and they had to get to their seats.
"We'll catch up at lunch," Willow said, heading toward her desk in the second
row.
"No," Tommy said.
"No?"Willow turned around to look at them.
Tommy's cheeks went a bit pink. "We… need to be… a where that is else as soon
as this class is over."
Willow looked at their linked hands—at least Adam hoped it was their hands, and
not the bulges they were both still sporting in their jeans—and then back and
forth between their faces. She smiled.
"Tomorrow, then," she said.
English was interminable, but finally they were dropping their papers on Mr.
Baxter's desk and filing out into the hall.
"Have fun," Willow called as Tommy and Adam headed toward the parking lot,
dodging the hall monitor who was supposed to keep people inside, but was
instead busy flirting with the girl Tommy had almost knocked over earlier.
They started out jogging to the parking lot and were almost sprinting by the
time they could see Tommy's car.
"Your house or mine?" Tommy asked as he unlocked the doors, breathless with
laughing and their run.
"My mom's out all day," Adam said, but it was hard to get past the picture of
Tommy all spread out on his bed, fingering himself.
"My parents are in Santa Barbara for the week," Tommy said.
"Your house, then." No question.
                                    ******
Friday night, first week back at school finally over, and time to celebrate.
Adam wasn't even sure whose party they were at; he'd piled into the back of
Oz's van with the rest of the Dingoes, Devon's latest girlfriend, and Willow,
and gotten out when they stopped. But there was booze and the music wasn't too
bad, and he'd secured a spot on one of the long sofas in the living room, so he
wasn't really complaining. Especially because he had Tommy sitting side-saddle
on his lap and Willow tucked against his right side, he'd had two cups of
something pink which he thought was Cherry Kool-Aid and vodka, and he felt
blissed out and horny.
Leaning forward, he kissed Tommy's shoulder, which was enough to get him to
glance away from the conversation about a new song for the Dingoes that Tommy
was having with Devon, but only long enough to give Adam a wink and a quick
peck on the lips. Then he was back to raving about something he wanted to try
with the bass line. Adam wanted to ask for a real kiss, but Devon was all
enthused and Tommy was leaning forward saying, "Yeah, yeah," only still on
Adam's lap at all because Adam had an arm around his waist.
Adam was just drunk enough that he was worried Tommy would turn him down, which
would be terrible. Instead, he turned to Willow.
"I want a kiss," he complained. "But Tommy's busy."
"Oh, poor baby." Willow patted his cheek.
Which gave Adam an idea. "You could kiss me!"
Willow laughed.
"No, really. Kissing is fun. Friends have fun together. "
"Not that kind of fun." Willow looked skeptical.
"But it's okay; you're a girl and I'm gay."
Willow laughed again, but when Adam didn't join in, she tilted her chin up and
put a hand around Adam's neck. She looked sweet and lickable.
"Yeah," Adam said, lowering his mouth to hers. She tasted like Aveda lipstick,
the same brand Tommy had been wearing lately, but she didn't wait for Adam to
set the pace the way Tommy did. She tipped his head to get a better angle,
sucked on his lower lip for a moment, then licked up behind his top teeth. It
was sexy and just shocking enough that it made Adam want to giggle, more out of
surprise than amusement, and his grip on Tommy's waist and Willow's arm
tightened.
He heard Tommy's surprised laugh at the same time as Oz's drawled, "Hey, can I
have some of that?"
Adam jerked back, nearly unseating Tommy, who had to fling his arm out and
plant his feet on the floor.
"Tommy was busy," Willow said.
"I would have kissed you," Tommy protested, turning around to straddle Adam's
lap, putting an arm around his shoulders.
"I know," Adam replied, white lie totally justified under the circumstances.
"But poor Willow was all lonely without Oz."
"The world does get empty without me," Oz said.
"You guys are all crazy," Devon said. "You know that, right?"
Oz handed Willow a Mr. Pibb, but held the plastic cup with Adam's drink in it
out of reach. "Do you think you need this?" he asked.
"I'm not that drunk," Adam protested. "Your girlfriend is cute."
"She is both of those things," Oz said. But he relinquished Adam's alcohol.
Tommy decided they'd done enough talking and gave Adam his real kiss. He didn't
seem mad, though his grip on Adam's neck was extra tight. But possessive Tommy
was hot, so Adam wasn't going to make a thing out of it.
They stayed at the party another hour or so before someone puked on Devon's
girlfriend's shoes and she decided she wanted to go home. Oz was a gentleman
and offered her a ride, said he'd come back for the others, but they all
decided to leave. Adam was spending the night at Tommy's because his parents
weren't coming back from Santa Barbara until Sunday.
When he'd asked his mom's permission to sleep over at a friend's house, she'd
laughed at him. "I trust you both, and you're near enough to eighteen that I'm
not going to say no, but you didn't imagine I was going to think you meant
anyone but Tommy, did you?"
Adam had felt his face heat up. "Just giving you plausible deniability," he
muttered.
"You're a good son," Leila had said, giving him a one-armed hug.
Now that they were at Tommy's door, though, Adam's mother was the last thing on
his mind. Tommy was still trying to get the key in the lock when Adam got his
hands down the front of Tommy's pants, embracing him from behind, taking
advantage of Tommy's penchant for wearing too-loose jeans and forgetting his
belt half the time.
"Adam!" Tommy protested, but he bucked forward into Adam's hand and then ground
his ass back into Adam's crotch, humming happily when he felt Adam's hard-on,
so Adam ignored him.
When Adam started stroking his dick, though, Tommy grabbed his wrist.
"Key. Door," he said, and Adam let him go. He knew how fumble-fingered he got
when Tommy had his hands on him, and the sooner they were inside, the sooner he
could get Tommy naked without risking any nosey neighbors telling Tommy's
parents he was having sex with a boy. On the front porch.
Adam started unbuttoning Tommy's jeans while he kicked the door shut, quite
pleased with how coordinated he was, multitasking like that.
"Oh my god," Tommy said, laughing. "What were you drinking?"
"Want to be drinking you," Adam said, going down on his knees, tugging Tommy's
boxers and jeans to his ankles in one pull.
"Oh my god," Tommy said again, laugh catching as he grabbed Adam's shoulders.
Monday after English they'd fallen on each other as soon as they'd gotten to
Tommy's house, all frantic kissing and jerking each other off. But after round
three they ate lunch, showered together all slick soapy hands, and while Adam
was drying Tommy's legs, he got over his nerves about sucking dick. He could
tell he wasn't good at it, but he discovered it wasn't something you could
really be bad at either, and he could not get enough of the way Tommy looked,
the sounds he made, while his dick was in Adam's mouth.
Tonight was the fourth time this week, and Adam felt like he was actually
starting to get the hang of it now.
"Fuck, fuck, Adam," Tommy breathed when Adam didn't even give him a chance to
catch his balance before he sucked Tommy's dick almost all the way down. Only
half-hard, it was small enough Adam could do it without choking. And the feel
of it swelling, getting stiffer on his tongue was kind of amazing. Adam hummed
appreciatively, trying to convey how amazing without stopping what he was
doing, but it made Tommy jerk his hips, shoving his rapidly growing cock down
Adam's throat.
Adam pulled off, gasping, tears in his eyes, and started laughing. "Humming
good. Duly noted," he said, cutting off Tommy's apology.
"Yeah," Tommy said, throat and cheeks tinged pink. "It's good."
Adam went back to what he'd been doing.
It only took Tommy another minute or two to come, and for the first time, Adam
managed to swallow it. Making a mess of the bathroom floor or Tommy's sheets
was one thing, but even tipsy and horny as hell he realized spitting jizz on
Mrs. Ratliff's hall carpet was a bad idea.
Tommy dropped to his own knees and kissed Adam hard, clinging to his neck. He
started to push Adam backwards like he wanted Adam lying down, but they were
only a few feet from the front door so there wasn't room. And the burn to have
more of Tommy, to get him squirming and begging, was overwhelming, so Adam
pushed back, half lifting Tommy, whose legs were hobbled by his jeans still, so
he wouldn't just crash backwards. Tommy whimpered nakedly when Adam followed
him down, catching himself on one elbow, his other hand tangled in Tommy's
hair.
"Wanna—god, Tommy, the things I want to do to you."
"Yes," Tommy said, not even a second's hesitation. Adam almost came right then.
Pinning Tommy with his chest, Adam got his hands down between them and his dick
out of his pants, Tommy's shirt pushed up to his ribs. Adam needed to get off
so he could concentrate, too hard and too desperate with Tommy under him, so
fucking willing—he couldn't even think.
Maybe thirty seconds of rutting against the soft skin of Tommy's stomach was
all it took before Adam was grunting into Tommy's mouth, making a mess after
all.
They got out of their shirts and shoes, cleaned up, got some water, and made
their way to Tommy's bedroom.
In the week Adam had been back, neither of them had mentioned that phone call,
but now Adam said, "Do you still have the stuff?"
Tommy was obviously thinking the same thing, because he didn't have to ask what
Adam meant, just reached behind the stereo on the shelf by his bed and pulled
out a bottle of lube.
Adam's mouth went dry and his hands started shaking like when he was twelve
years old and sang his first solo on stage in front of a paying audience.
"You want to?" Tommy said.
"Yeah," Adam tried, but no sound came out, so he nodded.
Tommy held out the lube and Adam took it.
"How do you—" Tommy hooked his thumbs in his jeans, pushing them down without
needing to undo the button. "How do you want me?"
Adam's brain shorted out and he wasn't even sure what Tommy meant. He wanted
him naked. On the bed. Naked.
"Adam?"
And Adam realized. "Wanna see your face, so—"
"Yeah," Tommy said. "Wanna see you, too."
Eyes on Adam—who was just standing there, lube in his left hand, jeans zipped
but not buttoned—Tommy backed up until his thighs hit the bed, then climbed up
onto it, scooting back towards the pillows.
"Are you scared?" Adam asked before he could think about whether or not that
was a good idea.
Tommy made a weird sound—sort of a cross between "no" and "duh."
"You're so amazing," Adam said.
"You're so dressed."
Adam threw the lube at the bed and pushed his jeans off like they were on fire.
When he looked up again, Tommy was running his tongue along his lower lip and
holding his arms out in invitation. Adam was more than happy to kiss him, so
they made out for several minutes until Tommy was shifting his hips restlessly,
digging his nails into Adam's back in a fruitless attempt to bring him closer.
"Want you, Adam. Want you—" Tommy tugged at Adam's wrist, trying to pull his
hand down between his legs.
"Okay, baby. Okay—" Adam said, breathless, pulling his wrist out of Tommy's
grip so he could fumble for the lube. He'd read so much about the importance of
it that he was now terrified of going anywhere near Tommy's ass without it.
"I love you," Tommy said, earnest, like he needed Adam to know this before they
got any further. Neither of them had said it again since the time on the phone.
Adam knew that it wasn't supposed to mean as much if you said it while you were
having sex, but he could tell Tommy meant it.
"I love you too," he said, just as sincere.
Tommy's mouth softened into a smile, corner of his lip caught between his
teeth. Adam hadn't managed to find the bottle without looking, so he sat up,
keeping one hand on Tommy's hip, needing to be touching him. Tommy really was
amazing, legs spread already in anticipation, one hand on his stomach, fingers
brushing Adam's, the other on Adam's waist.
"Been thinking about this so much," Tommy said. "It's fucking distracting
sometimes."
Adam liked that Tommy found him distracting, but worried again that Tommy's
imagination would be much better than Adam could live up to. Which was stupid,
because Tommy seemed to like everything Adam did, and this shouldn't be any
different. He stopped stalling and got his fingers wet, putting the bottle
aside on the table when they were dripping. "Tell me what to do," he said.
Tommy took Adam's hand, smearing his own fingers with the lube, getting both
their hands slippery, then pushed Adam's hand between his legs. "Like this," he
said, rubbing his own fingers against his hole.
Adam followed his movements, stroking the smooth skin of Tommy's crack,
watching Tommy's fingers. Nothing could be hotter than the way Tommy's knees
dropped wider as he pushed a finger up under his balls.
"Wanna see you go inside," Adam whispered.
Sliding his middle finger between the two Adam had circling Tommy's hole, he
pushed against it, easing it in. Adam meant to look at his face, but he
couldn't tear his eyes away from what was happening between Tommy's legs. Tommy
pulled his finger out and Adam pushed his own finger in instead.
"So hot," he breathed, pushing harder, needing to feel more of that heat.
"Slow," Tommy warned, his voice low, and Adam stopped, drawing back.
"Not stop. Just—"
Adam stroked more around the rim, gathering up some of the lube that was
dripping down toward the bed, using his finger to push it inside.
"Yeah," Tommy said. His fingers came down, rubbing around where Adam's finger
disappeared into him. The more he rubbed the more relaxed he got and Adam's
finger started moving more easily. Tommy started making noises, drawing Adam's
eyes finally to his face. His lips were parted, eyes wide, staring at Adam,
until Adam met his gaze, when Tommy let them drop shut. Adam was slipping his
finger almost all the way out and pushing it back in when he felt Tommy's touch
on his knuckle.
"Stop?" Adam asked, hoping the answer was no, because this felt amazing. So
smooth, slick, hot, so inside Tommy, but Tommy said, "No. More," and pushed
too, his finger slipping in under Adam's, almost pushing it out before Adam's
brain caught up and he resisted, letting the pressure take him back in instead.
It was tighter, of course, but hotter too, and the feel of Tommy's finger
moving against his made Adam squirm deliciously. They were in almost up to
Adam's last knuckle when Tommy gasped, his right leg going stiff where it
rested on Adam's thigh.
"Good—ooh, fuck, Adam," Tommy said before Adam could ask what was wrong.
"Keep—"
Adam stayed where he was, letting Tommy push his finger up and in, taking over
the rhythm when he felt Tommy's wrist trembling against the back of his hand.
The gasps Tommy was making got higher pitched, quicker; he was panting, saying,
"Uh, uh, uh."
"What do you—" Adam started.
"More," Tommy gasped, "Another—"
Adam pulled his finger out, Tommy's slipping after it, and pushed back in with
two while Tommy's hand went to his dick, pulling on it hard the way he liked it
just before he came.
"Up," he said when Adam, overwhelmed, didn't move once his fingertips were
wrapped in that tight heat.
Twisting and pushing, Adam fucked his fingers back into Tommy's ass, trying to
hit the spot where he'd been before. He thought he wouldn't find it, but then
Tommy keened softly, so Adam stayed where he was, rocking from his wrist,
breathless, watching Tommy's grip tighten on his cock as he came so hard jizz
hit his chin and dripped down his cheekbone.
Adam kept his fingers inside until Tommy started to shift uncomfortably. "That
was—" Adam said.
"I know." Tommy brushed at Adam's elbow with feeble fingers.
"Really—"
"Yeah." Tommy brushed again, this time pinching enough that Adam figured out he
was trying to pull Adam down to lie beside him.
He wrapped around Tommy completely, mashing Tommy's face into his neck, hooking
his legs as well as his arms around him. Adam was hard—god, so hard—but was
much more desperate to become one with Tommy skin than to come. It took a
minute for him to notice that Tommy was pushing against his chest.
"Can't breathe," Tommy said once Adam loosened his arms. Tommy scooted down a
little so his ear was resting on Adam's collar bone. His thigh was between
Adam's, and he started rocking it a little. "Help you out there?" he asked,
wriggling again so he could get a hand on Adam's dick.
The hand was sticky with half-dried lube, but it was still good enough to make
Adam buck up into it. "Later," Tommy said, thumb tracing Adam's cockhead, "I'm
going to blow you. Need to get my breath back first."
"Nggnh," Adam said, and added his grip to Tommy's, jerking twice and coming,
mostly from the thought of Tommy's mouth on him, something else they hadn't
gotten around to yet.
Adam thought they should probably get a wash cloth. Or at least roll over and
grab some tissues. But that could wait. This was the best slumber party ever,
but Adam was feeling the pull of the slumber part.
                                    ******
January went by in a whirlwind of insanity. The town went nuts, and Adam had to
stop his mom from joining a gang trying to burn Willow and Buffy at the stake;
Willow was constantly running around helping Buffy thwart demon apocalypses;
and Adam and Tommy were having more sex than Adam had imagined he would ever
get to have in his lifetime, never mind a month. Suddenly Leila was asking what
Adam wanted to do for his birthday, and he only had three days left to think
about it.
Not that he had to think very hard about his ideal party, but he was pretty
sure his mom was neither going to spring for a weekend in a hotel in LA for him
and Tommy, nor take Neil and go somewhere else leaving the house empty, so he
needed a plan C.
Plan C turned out to be dinner with his parents, brother, and boyfriend on the
29th itself, and a party at the Bronze Friday night with his friends.
Dinner went better than expected: Eber talked to Tommy about music instead of
embarrassing Adam by putting Tommy through the third degree or telling stories
about Adam growing up; Neil wasn't any more obnoxious than usual, and the book
he gave Adam was really cool; Leila didn't try to tell her sons what they
wanted to eat, and the food was amazing. Even better, his parents were beyond
civil, almost into the friendly zone, but Neil didn't ask once why they'd
gotten divorced in the first place.
Good as the family dinner was, Adam had a lot more fun at the party at the
Bronze. Zeke, the singer of the band playing, was friends with Devon, and
invited Adam up to do a few songs. Adam briefly tried to protest that he
shouldn't have to work on his birthday, but Willow and Tommy both saw through
that and shoved him at the stage. He sang We Will Rock You, Love Cats, and, for
Tommy, Personal Jesus. Everyone was cheering when he took his bow and handed
the mic back to Zeke. Adam liked cheering. He'd really missed being on stage
since they left San Diego, but Sunnydale was not exactly a hotbed of theater,
musical or otherwise.
Even better than the actual party was the after party in the back of Oz's van.
He had a futon mattress that could be rolled up to serve as a seat or unrolled
for lounging, and there were pillows to pad out the rest of the space, so it
was more comfortable than you might expect. They were parked under a
streetlight around the corner from Willow's house, so everything had a yellow
glow, which Adam was pretty sure should make Tommy less attractive, but it
didn't. Fortunately, as soon as they got settled in the back Oz started
nuzzling Willow's neck so Adam didn't feel guilty about pulling Tommy into his
lap and kissing him.
The next thing he knew he had Tommy pinned underneath him and something icy-wet
was dripping down his neck.
"Time to come up for air," Oz said, handing him the beer he'd just shocked him
with, another in his other hand for Tommy.
"Air is overrated," Tommy opined from his back on the mattress. But he took the
proffered drink and propped himself up on one elbow so he could sip it without
spilling.
"Not that watching you is the worst thing in the world," Willow said. Much to
Adam's surprise she had a beer in her hand too. He'd never seen her drink
before. Even in the yellow light he could see her cheeks were flushed.
Oz gave her a sappy smile and pulled her close for a kiss. It was gentle, but
possessive in a way Adam couldn't quite name, and to his surprise, Adam found
he liked watching it. He didn't love romance movies, the porn he watched didn't
exactly feature kissing, and he'd always been afraid of getting beat up if he
got caught spying on kids at school making out, so he hadn't had a lot of
opportunities to find out whether he was a lip-lock voyeur or not. It turned
out he was. It wasn't even as weird watching his friends as he had thought it
might be. It was not as good as kissing Tommy, though, so after a minute he got
back to that.
This time it was Willow who interrupted them. "That," she said, "is really
hot."
Adam looked over his shoulder at her. "Me kissing Tommy?"
"Tommy kissing you." She reached out and poked Tommy's ankle with her toe.
"Sorry, staring, but you're all—" Willow flopped her hand around and then
shrugged. "You should see it, Adam."
Tommy laughed, biting the edge of his thumb the way he did when he wasn't sure
if laughter was the right response, and said, "I'm not making out in my
parents' bed just so we can look in the mirror."
"Ew," Adam agreed. "No. Besides. If I'm kissing you I can't watch you anyway,
mirror or not."
"You'll just have to take Willow's word for it," Oz chimed in.
That gave Adam an idea. "Or you could kiss him and I could watch," Adam said to
Oz.
"Why me?"
"Because Willow likes to watch, too." And Oz hadn't seemed to mind Willow
making out with Adam, but Tommy used to have a girlfriend, and Adam didn't want
to risk Oz getting jealous and fucking up his relationship with his bass
player.
It didn't occur to Adam that making out with his bass player might also make
things weird.
Tommy's fingers crept under the hem of Adam's shirt, brushed his waist. "You
want me to make out with Oz?"
Adam didn't want to see Tommy so much as look at anyone else ever. He palmed
Tommy's cheek, ran a hand down his chest to his hip, and tangled the fingers of
his other hand into Tommy's hair. Tommy was his. But, fuck, he wanted to see
what Willow saw, too.
"Only if you want to."
"I'm not gay," Oz pointed out.
"It would be really hot," Willow said, hand on the side of Oz's neck.
"Kissing boys isn't that different from kissing girls," Tommy said to Oz. "And
you touch your own dick, right? It's not like they want us to fuck."
Adam hadn't really thought about Oz touching Tommy's dick, but suddenly he
really wanted to see that, too. Watch Tommy from head to toe while he writhed
under someone's touch. Maybe hold his arms above his head, still have a hand
free to touch his face— "Definitely no fucking," he said, before he could get
too carried away with his thoughts.
He felt Tommy's fingers tangle in his shirt. "I'll do it for you," Tommy said.
"If you'd get off on watching me."
"Oh god." Adam wondered, not for the first time, if Tommy was actually real, or
if Adam had somehow summoned him from the land of amazing boyfriends using the
power of the Hellmouth.
Adam could hear Oz and Willow whispering, but not what they were saying. He
tried to make out the words, but then Tommy was pulling him close to say right
in his ear, "I have something else in mind for your actual present, but this
can be part of it."
Tommy had already given him five CDs and some really great eye makeup the night
they went out to dinner, which was nicer than the stuff Adam had given him for
his birthday back in October, but they hadn't been together as long then, so
Adam had figured it was okay. He really hoped his other present wasn't anything
Tommy had bought, though.
Adam didn't want to do the gushing thank-you thing, and couldn't think of
anything else to say, so he just kissed Tommy, hard and hungrily, trying to
show him how grateful he felt for everything Tommy was.
"Okay," Oz said. "It's all rock-and-roll, right?"
Tommy chuckled. "Exactly. Rock-and-roll. You can pretend I'm David Bowie."
"That," Oz said, "is not going to happen." But he was crawling up Tommy's body,
so it clearly wasn't a no. Adam rolled so he was out of the way, twisting so
his head was on the pillow next to Willow's ribs. He didn't have a great view
from there, so he scooted back toward the front of the van, dragging Willow
with him. Tommy watched the maneuvering from under Oz's shoulder.
"You two comfy there?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice, even with his
face in shadow.
"Yeah, yeah," Adam said, getting Willow tucked in front of him so he could
watch over her head and they both had a good view.
"This is ridiculous," Oz mumbled.
"No," Willow said, reaching out to touch the small of his back briefly. "It's
really not."
Eyes on Adam's face, Tommy reached up and pulled Oz's mouth down to his. Oz
only hesitated a moment before responding. And, yeah. Wow. Adam could see what
Willow meant.
As soon as Oz started returning his kiss Tommy's head dropped back as he let Oz
take over. Tommy's legs moved with the rhythm of Oz's hips rocking against his
stomach and the hand Tommy had on Oz's shoulder fell up by his face as he slid
it up to the pillow above his head to where Adam liked to hold his wrists while
they were kissing.
"Does he like being held down?" Willow asked, presumably speaking to Adam,
though she didn't take her eyes off their boyfriends.
"Yeah," Adam said breathlessly, wanting to do it, but not wanting to interrupt
or move to someplace with less visibility.
"Do it, Oz," Willow said, in a no-nonsense voice Adam hadn't heard her use
before.
Oz stopped kissing Tommy long enough to glance at her, but whatever he saw in
her face kept any protest he might have made at bay. He moved the hand he'd had
resting on Tommy's ribs to Tommy's wrist above his head. That made Tommy arch
up, something Adam had felt many times but never seen from this angle. He
really, seriously, liked it.
"His other hand, too," Willow said, and this time Oz didn't hesitate. He was
kissing Tommy harder now, too, grinding his hips against Tommy's.
Adam had an arm around Willow's waist and couldn't help pulling her closer
while he watched. As Oz pushed Tommy's hands higher above his head and started
kissing down his jaw, Adam leaned down and sucked Willow's earlobe into his
mouth. She made a soft noise of pleasure so he teased it with his teeth,
stroking up her belly to cup her breast, hoping she didn't mind that his dick
was pressed against her thigh. If she minded, it didn't show in the way she
twisted around so she could kiss his mouth.
A muffled moan from next to them made Adam pause, look up to see Tommy reaching
for Oz's fly, Oz's hand already busy below Tommy's waistband. "Fuck," Adam
whispered, and Willow turned back around. She left her hand tangled in Adam's
hair, however, and he could tell how much she liked what she was seeing from
her grip on the strands.
Adam wanted to ask Tommy what it felt like, wanted to push Oz's hand away and
touch Tommy himself, wanted to bite Tommy's lips, grind against his thigh, but
he just watched Oz lick his neck, jerk his cock awkwardly, try to move so Tommy
could reach his dick more easily.
"Can he bite you?" Willow asked, hushed but eager.
Tommy nodded, made a whimpering noise.
"Bite him, right there, above his collar," Willow directed Oz. "Carefully. No
breaking the skin."
As Oz's teeth made contact, Tommy jerked in Oz's grip, gasped, and his hand
fell away from Oz's cock. Adam reached for it, twined their fingers together,
pulling Tommy's arm to its full reach at his side. Fighting the grip the way he
did when he wanted Adam to hold tighter, Tommy started panting, saying, "Fuck
fuck fuck," like he was close to coming.
"Damn," Oz said, working his wrist faster, trying to push Tommy over the edge.
Adam could feel Tommy getting there, his arm quivering slightly, his
fingernails digging into the back of Adam's hand, and he could see it in the
sweat popping up on his forehead and throat. "Come on, baby," he said. "Wanna
see you. So fucking gorgeous."
Tommy stared at Adam then, pulling on his hand, and Adam leaned over Willow,
probably crushing her a little, to kiss him. When he couldn't stop, he felt
Willow wiggle out from under him and sit up.
They were kissing when Tommy came, so Adam missed watching it, but he was
absolutely not complaining.
Oz looked a little unsure what to do with the mess on his hand, and Adam
wondered for a minute what he would do if Adam licked it off, but this wasn't a
porn movie and he really didn't want to lick Oz, so he was just as glad when
Willow handed Oz an old t-shirt that had been abandoned in the van at some
point. When Oz was done, Adam took it and cleaned Tommy up, still holding tight
to Tommy's right hand. The way Tommy gazed up at him made Adam's stomach
flutter.
"Wanna walk me home?" Willow asked Oz. "My parents are at a benefit tonight."
Oz just nodded, looking dazed.
"He'll be a while," Willow said, winking at Adam. "If you need the van for
anything."
"Yeah," Adam said. Then, remembering his manners: "Goodnight. Thanks for the
awesome birthday party."
"My pleasure." Willow opened the van's door and disappeared, Oz in tow.
"Now for part two of three," Tommy said. "Or maybe it's gonna be four parts.
Who can tell?" He pushed Adam flat onto his back, straddling his thighs, and
started undoing Adam's jeans.
Adam loved giving head. He loved holding Tommy down and making him go pliant
and wanton. He loved fingering him until he came, and pulling his hair, and
leaving bite marks all over his chest and shoulders. He loved it so much that
it never took more than Tommy wrapping a hand around his cock for Adam to come
once Tommy was sated. But that did mean he'd never given Tommy a chance to do
any of those things to him.
Apparently Tommy was tired of waiting for his turn.
"What's part—" Adam started, but Tommy put a hand over his mouth.
"You don't always have to be in charge," Tommy said, and then proceeded to tug
Adam's pants down his hips.
There were maybe two seconds in which Adam considered arguing that he never
said he always had to be in charge, but then Tommy pressed a soft kiss to the
head of Adam's cock, and all thoughts of arguing fled.
"Oh," Adam breathed, and Tommy licked. And licked again. And oh god why hadn't
Adam taken Tommy up on his offers of blow jobs much sooner.
Wanting to see better, Adam flailed above his head for a pillow. Even with his
head propped up, his dick was still in shadow, but just the sight of Tommy's
head bobbing made the grip of his hand and whatever amazing thing he was doing
with his tongue and lips even better.
"Oh my god, Tommy," Adam said, reaching for his boyfriend's hair, needing to
touch.
"'S'okay?" Tommy asked.
"Fuck. Yes. Jesus."
Tommy shot him a look that was half pleased, half shy, and got back to licking.
Adam loved the licking. And, wow, also the sucking. It was kind of insane
having his dick in someone's mouth, with their teeth right there—and Adam knew
how sharp Tommy's teeth were—but it was so good, too. And he loved knowing what
Tommy was feeling, that edge of discomfort, fear that you might choke, wanting
to make it good, and how that made it thrilling and exciting, made you want to
push a little harder.
Even better though, the wet, the heat, the flexing of Tommy's neck under Adam's
fingertips, squeezing pressure where Tommy jerked him, the sounds... Seriously,
blow jobs were probably the best thing ever.
"I'm gonna—" Adam remembered to warn Tommy just in time, and Tommy pulled off,
came up to kiss him, jerking Adam's dick with the perfect twist Adam loved.
"Happy birthday," Tommy said, wiping his hand on the poor, abused t-shirt.
Adam pulled him close. "Hell, yes."
If that was only part two, Adam wasn't sure he'd survive a four-part birthday
present, but he was so willing to try.
"Part three tomorrow," Tommy murmured against Adam's neck as he snuggled in to
wait for Oz to come back and drive them home.
                                    ******
The next day did not bring Adam the third part of his present, because Tommy's
mom decided to clean out the attic and insisted Tommy help. Sunday Adam spent a
couple of hours hanging out with Tommy in the front yard selling the stuff the
Ratliffs decided they didn't want anymore, but there was no opportunity for
them to be alone. Or even to do the flirty eye-fucking thing they liked to do
in the cafeteria at lunch that tended to make Xander scowl and Willow smirk.
Adam kept his eyes to himself, because he still wasn't actually sure if Mr. and
Mrs. Ratliff knew Adam and Tommy were boyfriends. Tommy hadn't said anything
about coming out to his parents, but he hadn't said he hadn't either. Adam knew
they got along, but your parents being cool with you being in a band and
staying out late didn't necessarily translate into being cool with having a
queer son living under their roof.
They were over at Tommy's so rarely when his parents were home that Adam hadn't
been able to tell from Tommy's behavior, either. He didn't hold Adam's hand in
front of them, but even after Tommy knew Leila was all good with the boyfriend
thing it had still taken Adam a while to convince Tommy to be affectionate in
front of her. The kids at school, who were actually likely to beat them up, no
problem. 'Here-have-condoms' Leila, though, Tommy was shy with. That made Adam
think maybe Tommy knew his parents wouldn't be okay with him having a
boyfriend.
The afternoon of the yard sale Mrs. Ratliff called Adam honey, and she brought
him tea when the wind picked up around three o'clock, and she seemed to like
him just fine, but it wasn't like she was unused to boys wearing eyeliner
around her house, and she'd met the Dingoes, including Oz, so Adam was hardly
the most eccentric guy Tommy brought over. No reason to think Adam was a bad
influence if she thought he was just one of Tommy's friends.
Adam decided when he had a chance he was going to ask Tommy if his parents knew
about the more-than-friends thing.
His chance came on Thursday afternoon when they finally had no homework, no
chores, no place they had to be except in Adam's bedroom with Leila at work and
Neil downstairs playing Mario Kart with his friend Mark. Not the best
circumstances for sex, but fine for conversation.
"So," Adam said, perching on the edge of his desk while Tommy got comfortable
on the bed. "Do your parents know you're gay?"
Tommy looked at him, clearly puzzled. "I'm not gay."
The words were ice water in Adam's guts. "You—" He couldn't breathe right. Had
Tommy just been faking it this whole time? Had he been wishing Adam were a
girl? "You're not?" he managed to choke out.
Clearly Tommy hadn't noticed that Adam was white-knuckle gripping the edge of
the desk or that his legs were shaking, because the slightly perplexed
expression on Tommy's face didn't change to concern. "I don't think so," he
said, all calm and cool. "I mean, I'm not grossed out by pussy. I'm like,
totally in love with you and the sex is awesome, but it's not like the sex was
horrible with Dee or anything."
"Okaaay," Adam said. Tommy thought the sex was awesome, and he loved Adam. How
was he not gay then, exactly?
Something must have showed on Adam's face or in his voice then, because finally
Tommy looked at him carefully. "Are you mad?" he asked.
"No." And Adam wasn't mad. Hurt, confused, scared, but not mad.
"You are. You're mad."
"I'm not fucking mad!" Except about being told how he felt.
"It's not like I need pussy or anything. I'm not gonna cheat on you." Tommy sat
up, reaching for Adam's hand.
Adam wouldn't give it to him. "I never said you were going to cheat on me. But,
like, is this just a phase for you or something?" Adam couldn't control his
shouting or the feeling of tears rising up the back of his throat.
"Adam, what the hell are you yelling at me for?" Now it was Tommy's turn to
cross his arms and sulk.
"I just—" Adam had no idea how this conversation had gotten so far off track.
Except he'd clearly worried it would go this way, because he hadn't just
slipped the question about Tommy's parents into casual conversation at school
or something.
"You just what? Thought you'd be a total dick? Act like I treat you like you
don't matter? What did I do? I fucking call you and come over here all the
time, and I drive you around and wanna spend, like, all my time with you— What
the hell else do you want from me?"
"That's—"
"You're the one who wanted to wait to fuck me. That's not even on me, so don't
say it is." Tommy's voice was shaking, his cheeks pale with angry red spots in
their centers.
"Tommy, I never—"
"Fuck you, Adam, okay? Just fuck you." Tommy started to stand, like he was
going to walk out.
No way was Adam letting that happen. He half tackled, half lifted Tommy onto
the bed, wrapping his arms around him so he couldn't get away. "I fucking love
you, okay? I have no idea what is going on with this conversation. But this is
not how it was supposed to go."
Tommy put up a fight, twisting in Adam's arms, shoving at his chest, but Adam
held on.
"Baby," he said. "Baby, shhh a minute."
"I will not shush. Don't shush me. I'm not a baby." Tommy bit Adam's arm.
It hurt, and not in the good way Tommy biting usually hurt, but Adam still
didn't let go. Frantic to keep Tommy here until they weren't fighting anymore,
he rolled until Tommy was completely underneath him, trapped by Adam's superior
weight and height. With not a little difficulty Adam managed to capture Tommy's
wrists and pin them over his head. Tommy snapped and snarled like a caged dog,
and the whole thing was so wrong and so ridiculous Adam started to laugh.
"Fuck you, Adam. Seriously. What the hell?" Tommy was fuming.
"Will you listen to me for two seconds?" Adam edged over so it was just his
hands and one thigh holding Tommy down, so Tommy could escape if he really
wanted.
Tommy lay there placid once he was free to move, though. "Two seconds," he said
warily.
"Jesus. Tommy, I'm sorry." Adam was not always good at apologizing, but he
figured it was worth it this time. "Okay? I'm sorry. It sounded like you were
saying you weren't—I don't know. That you didn't want to be with me. I freaked
out. Okay?"
Tommy glared and when Adam didn't continue, said, "You done?" For all he was
lying there unmoving, Tommy's words still had fight in them.
"For now," Adam conceded, loosening his grip on Tommy so his fingers were just
braceleting his wrists, more comfort than constraint.
"You treat sexuality like it's this bipolar thing. Binary thing. Whatever. Like
you're straight or you're gay and there's nothing in between. There are six
points on that Kinsey scale."
All the blood in Adam's torso rushed to his face, leaving his shoulders icy and
his cheeks on fire.
"I was only saying I'm probably bi, and you totally started yelling at me. I
wasn't saying you're just some high school experiment."
Adam couldn't look his boyfriend in the eye, so he burrowed his face into his
neck, letting go Tommy's wrists completely so he could tuck his hands under
Tommy's shoulders.
"And yes, my parents know, by the way. I'm not ashamed of you."
"I'm ashamed of me," Adam muttered.
"Yeah, well, that's because you're being a freak right now."
"I am sorry," Adam said again, voice muffled against Tommy's skin.
"They thought I was too young to know if I was gay or not, but I reminded them
that I'm eighteen and gave them the same Kinsey speech I had to give you."
Silence stretched between them for a minute, but it wasn't angry anymore. When
it was clear Tommy was done with his ridiculously short tale of coming out,
Adam spoke.
"Were they mad?" Adam shifted so he was resting his head on Tommy's chest and
wasn't suffocating himself.
"No. Not really. Mom likes you."
"Glad someone does," Adam said.
"I like you too, asshole."
"Good," Adam said.
While they lay there, Adam, at least, feeling spent from the argument, Tommy
stroked Adam's hair soothingly. Adam was usually the one with Tommy cuddled on
his chest, and it felt a little weird having that turned around, but he also
liked it.
"Is Neil gonna wig if I kiss you while he has a friend over?" Tommy asked just
when Adam was nearly soothed to a stupor from the head rubbing.
"Neil never has to know," Adam said, and tilted his face up to be kissed.
                                    ******
Adam Lambert was not a pedant, and he was not, as a general rule, prone to
bowing to heterosexist definitions either, but he was eighteen, and while he
considered everything he and Tommy had done so far as sex, his brain had a line
over which one crossed to go from virgin to not-virgin, and it was pretty much
the same line defined by teenagers (and most adults) the nation over.
He was also a romantic. Even so, he didn't actually plan to lose his virginity
on Valentine's Day, because that seemed so cliché: the seduction dinner, rose
petals, a tender deflowering...
It happened anyway, sans seduction and rose petals, which—he and Tommy agreed
later—made it totally romantic and not cliché at all.
There was dinner first. At Tommy's house because Tommy's parents were away
again. (Adam was starting to like Mr. Ratliff's new job that was willing to
expense Tommy's mom on business trips.) They had meatloaf—which Leila made but
Adam cooked—plus salad and baked potatoes, which Tommy was in charge of. There
were no decorations, but Adam did insist on red candles at the table, and Tommy
was wearing his Guns and Roses t-shirt which was mostly red, and they were
feeling festive.
After dinner they tried to watch My Bloody Valentine—or rather Tommy tried to
watch it and Adam tried his best to distract Tommy with a hand job. His best
turned out to be pretty effective, because they hadn't even gotten to the first
dead body when Tommy said, "Fuck this damn sofa. Bed's more comfortable," and
dragged Adam down the hall by the wrist.
They made out for a while, and got naked, and Adam finished the handjob he'd
started in front of the movie, and they made out some more, Tommy writhing and
whimpering while Adam sucked hickeys into his neck and rubbed off in the mess
of come on his stomach.
"Unf, you're heavy," Tommy complained, shoving weakly at Adam's shoulder
afterwards.
Instead of just rolling off him, Adam rolled them both so Tommy was lying full
length on top of Adam, which made Tommy squawk and Adam laugh.
"I can be heavy, too," Tommy said, wiggling, trying to squash Adam down into
the mattress.
Adam laughed harder, crushing Tommy to his chest in a bear hug.
"Hmmpf," Tommy said, but he settled down, pillowing his head on Adam's chest
and idly running his fingers from Adam's shoulder down to his elbow and up
again while Adam rubbed his back.
"Gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that," Adam said.
"Mmm hmm."
"Wake up all stuck together."
"You're stuck with me anyway, Lambert," Tommy murmured, and his hand drifted to
a stop.
Adam figured they could always take a shower later, and let his own eyes shut.
He fell asleep soundly and woke up to Tommy standing over him eating a pudding
pop in a thoroughly lewd and irresistible fashion. He was naked, flecks of
white clinging to his chest and stomach, his half-hard dick hanging heavy
between his legs, his hair and makeup a mess, and his rounded lips covered in
chocolate as he slid the popsicle deep into his mouth and pulled it out again.
"Well, hello," Adam said. "Is this part three of my birthday present?"
Tommy pulled the pop from his mouth but didn't lick his lips, which made it
hard for Adam to concentrate on what he was saying. Something about part four,
and three would come later. While Adam was still trying to parse the words
through his desire to suck the chocolate off Tommy's mouth, Tommy shoved the
treat between Adam's lips and started sucking his dick. All higher brain
function fled.
Tommy's mouth was cool, and the pudding was slippery, and Adam's stomach
lurched downwards as his sleep-soft cock shot to attention. "Mmmmpf," Adam
said, which was supposed to mean something like, Woah, slow down, I just woke
up here, or maybe Please do not stop whatever you do, but how the hell am I
supposed to eat this popsicle while you're doing that, or possibly, Fuck, fuck,
fuck, I love your mouth. Whatever it meant, though, Tommy took it as
encouragement, and started sucking harder.
Adam was fully planning on just throwing the thing in the garbage can next to
Tommy's bed—he had to breathe and a mouth full of frozen pudding was not
helping—but Tommy saw him and grabbed it back, using it like a paint brush on
Adam's most sensitive parts.
"Argh!" Adam said, flailing and trying to leap away from the cold, but Tommy
had a grip on his cock, and a devilish look on his face, and Adam wasn't going
anywhere.
Once he'd covered the top half of Adam's dick with chocolate pudding, Tommy bit
the rest of the pop off the stick.
"You're evil," Adam said, trying to relax his ass cheeks which were still
clenched in shock.
Tommy grinned. Evilly. Of course.
Adam knew what was coming, but it still made him squeak when Tommy started
sucking him again with an icy cold tongue. His poor dick didn't know what to
do—flinch from the cold or swell in the stimulation—and Adam found himself
digging his heels into the bed, gripping the sheets in his fists, thrashing his
head from side to side, his hips rigid under Tommy's palms.
Then, just when the pudding pop was gone and Tommy's mouth started to warm up,
Tommy pulled off and stood.
"What?" Adam squeaked incredulously.
"Shower time. You're all sticky." Tommy didn't even wait for Adam to answer,
just skipped out the door toward the bathroom.
"One of us is going to die," Adam grumped, but he dragged himself off the bed
and followed.
And, lo, the shower was a fantastic idea.
Hot, soapy hands were a perfect counterpoint to iced chocolate lips, and
Tommy's skin all slippery under his palms was almost as good as the hot
friction on his dick. Plus, he did get a measure of revenge pinning Tommy up
against the cold tiles and withholding the shower spray. Though the way Tommy
was moaning and grinding up against him, Adam was pretty sure it wasn't exactly
torture.
Still seeking payback, Adam started teasing at his hole, brushing his fingers
over it, pressing up behind Tommy's balls, back to brushing again, but not
going inside. When Tommy was panting and shifting his hips trying to guide
Adam's fingers, Adam said, "Do you have any condoms?"
Tommy blinked, taking a moment to come back from wherever Adam's fingers sent
him. "I went to the clinic while you were in San Diego."
Adam didn't know that boys could get condoms at a clinic. It made sense,
though. "How many did they give you?"
Shy, Tommy nudged his forehead against Adam's sternum. "I got tested at the
clinic." He rubbed one cheek against Adam's nipple briefly.
Adam wasn't sure that should sound like the most romantic thing ever, but it
did. He tilted Tommy's chin up so Tommy could see the sappy grin on his face.
"You did?"
Tommy's answering smile was wry. "Did you know they can't test for everything
with your blood? There were swabs."
That made Adam shudder.
"I wouldn't have let you suck me if I wasn't sure I was clean."
Adam hadn't even thought about that. He'd wanted Tommy's dick in his mouth so
he'd sucked it. Leila's lectures had focused on actual fucking.
"My mom would probably kill me for having sex without a condom."
Tommy chuckled. "Adam, I love your mom, but I kind of hope you don't tell her
quite that much about our sex lives." Clinching his arms more tightly around
Adam's waist, he added, "Besides. She'd kill you for having unsafe sex. We're
both clean and I can't get pregnant. It's totally safe."
Adam thought for a minute about what it might feel like to be inside Tommy
without anything between them.
"What the hell are we still doing in the shower?" he said.
 
Fingering Tommy was different when Adam knew it was just the prelude for his
dick. It was hard not to just shove all his fingers in at once—now that they
were doing this he wanted to do it—but part of him wanted to go extra slowly,
hung up on the knowledge that first times hurt, and wanting, badly, to not hurt
his boyfriend.
Clearly the second instinct was winning, because Tommy reached down and grabbed
his wrist and pushed Adam's finger in farther, saying, "Don't fucking tease
me."
Adam stopped teasing.
Tommy was on his back, left leg spread wide, right hooked over Adam's thigh
where Adam was propped on one elbow beside him. With his right hand he was
pulling his balls up against his dick and his left was gripping his thigh right
by where Adam's hand moved. Adam had a perfect view down his body, and with a
flick of his eyes could watch Tommy's face, his eyelids fluttering shut as Adam
added a second finger, his mouth opening on a silent moan as he added a third.
They'd done this more than a dozen times, at least half of those in almost this
exact position, but Adam had never watched the flush creep up Tommy's chest to
his face, or paid attention to the way his toes clenched and released.
"You are so fucking beautiful," Adam breathed.
Tommy's flush deepened, and his mouth quirked. "Stop stalling. See if you can—"
His breath hitched as Adam twisted his fingers fractionally deeper. "See if you
can fit another one."
Adam had never tried four fingers. Three always seemed like plenty. Tommy was
the one who was about to have Adam's dick up his ass, though, so Adam figured
he could be in charge of how many fingers they used first.
Easing his fingers out, he sat up, moved to kneel between Tommy's legs, and
while he was there, got more lube. Tommy used his hands to pull his thighs
apart, and was watching Adam intently, lower lip caught between his teeth. His
hole was shiny wet, opened easily when Adam pushed back in with two fingers,
gave to three. Adam went in all the way, rocking back and forth, rubbing at
Tommy's hole with his knuckles, and then pulled out far enough to get his pinky
in.
"Oh, god, oh god," Tommy moaned, rocking his hips, pushing Adam deeper inside.
"So fucking—" His right hand flew to his dick, cupping everything up tight
against his belly. "Fucking fuck me already."
Adam knew better than to ask if he was sure.
The hand he pulled from betweenTommy's legs was slick with lube and Adam jacked
his dick with it while Tommy watched.
"Okay, okay," Tommy said impatiently.
"Okay," Adam agreed, wiping his hand on the sheet and leaning forward to plant
a kiss on Tommy's mouth.
Everything was so slippery Adam had trouble getting his dick to stay in the
right place long enough to push in, but they finally got there. He had to push
a lot harder than he expected, and when the head popped past his resistance
Tommy sucked a harsh breath through his teeth.
"Too much?" Adam asked, trying not to move, or panic.
"It's—jesus." Tommy took a shuddering breath, and another, and the vise around
Adam's dick loosened. "Hurts, but keep going," Tommy said, clutching Adam's
forearm with the hand not holding tight to his own cock.
Adam's head was telling him to pull out if Tommy was hurting, but everything
else listened to Tommy's words and kept moving, driving him into that tight
heat. Tommy was gasping, his grip on Adam's arm practically grinding the bones
together, but he was lifting his hips into Adam's forward motion, and Adam
didn't think he could stop.
The slide out was smoother than the first slide in, and Tommy's grip relaxed.
"Lemme—" Tommy said, halting Adam's motion, and Tommy grabbed his knee and
pulled it up.
Like a key, that seemed to open things up, and Adam slid forward again with
much less resistance. This time Tommy's moan came from his chest not his
throat.
Fucking was not as easy as porn stars made it look, and Adam felt uncoordinated
as he tried to figure out a rhythm. He was thrusting shallowly, scared of
pulling out completely and putting Tommy through any more pain, but his dick
wanted more friction, wanted him to fuck harder, and Tommy felt so damn good
that it was almost impossible not to listen to that. He kissed Tommy again to
distract himself, pressing his hips to Tommy's ass, reveling in the clinging
heat.
Tommy kissed back, sucking Adam's tongue like it was sustenance, releasing his
knee to grab Adam's neck. That reminded Adam that in movies the top often put
the bottom's legs over his shoulders. He wondered if that would make things
easier.
It was awkward getting there, but once Adam got Tommy's legs up, the fucking
went more smoothly. He had a much better angle, and could roll his hips instead
of trying to jerk them forward and back. Tommy's ass was fucking amazing,
nothing like anything Adam had felt before, even better than he'd imagined. He
was staring up into Adam's face, mouth open, jaw working slightly with each
thrust, making little noises that Adam wished he could record and keep forever.
Adam wanted to talk to him, tell him how amazing he was, how good this felt,
how much he loved him, but there were no words, only sensation, motion, the act
of breathing.
And then it was too much, and Adam arched back, his orgasm shaking him from
knees to neck.
Somehow he ended up on his back next to Tommy instead of lying on top of him,
which was just as well, because even Tommy had limits to his flexibility. Adam
knew Tommy hadn't come, and he should say something about that, do something
about that, but he felt like all the muscles in his body had turned to clay.
"Yeah," Tommy said.
"Yeah?" Apparently there were words.
"Yeah, okay."
With a great deal of effort Adam turned to face Tommy, who was still on his
back, legs spraddled, one hand splayed at his side, the other squeezing his
dick. Adam wasn't sure if he meant he was okay, the sex was okay, or just
general okayness was occurring.
"We can totally do that again," Tommy clarified.
"Right now?" Adam was all about doing that again, but he was going to need a
minute. Or an hour.
"Not right now." Tommy started slowly jerking his dick. "Possibly not even
tomorrow. But again. Definitely."
Now that Adam had started moving it was easier to get a hand up to help Tommy
with the whole jerking off thing. Except once he touched his dick he wanted to
taste it, so he kept rolling, maneuvered so he could suck Tommy off. While he
let Tommy fuck his mouth, Adam thought about fucking Tommy's ass, and by the
time he was swallowing he was half hard again. But it was just a pleasant
sensation, not anything he felt compelled to deal with, so he was happy to
nestle it against Tommy's stomach as he cuddled him.
"Guess I'm sleeping in the wet spot," Tommy murmured when Adam was almost
asleep.
"'F'you can move I'll do it," Adam answered, words breaking on a yawn.
"Mmm," Tommy said. "Move tomorrow."
"Sounds good." And then Adam was out, Tommy in his arms.
                                    ******
Chemistry was not Adam's favorite subject, so it was easy to find things to do
that weren't studying for his midterm. As a result, he got a C-minus. He didn't
really care, but Mr. Grogan's policy was to call your parents if you got
anything lower than a C, and Adam's mother did care. Fortunately—as she
informed Adam after telling him how disappointed she was that he hadn't told
her himself and she had to get a call from his teacher—Mr. Grogan also had a
policy that meant you could add a letter grade to your midterm score if you
came in for an extra lab after school every day for a week.
Adam didn't see how this was fortunate at all, because he doubted his mother
could come up with a punishment he wanted to do less than an extra five chem
labs, given she was more about extra chores and TV restrictions than groundings
or allowance docking. Either way, he didn't have a choice. Leila told Mr.
Grogan Adam would be there, so he was expected to be there.
"I would have helped you study," Willow said Monday at lunch when Adam was
complaining.
"I would have too," Tommy said.
"Didn't you get a D in Chemistry?" Oz asked.
"You did help," Adam told Tommy, lifting his chin with one finger and kissing
his nose. "A lot. Just not with studying."
"Chemistry is stupid, anyway," Tommy insisted.
Adam agreed, and he didn't really want to talk about it anymore, so he changed
the subject.
After lunch Adam had History with Tommy, but then they were separated for sixth
period. They agreed to meet at Adam's house after the make-up lab because Tommy
had some errands to run after school.
When Adam got home, Tommy was sitting in the kitchen with Leila. The smile he
gave Adam seemed forced, and he insisted they stay downstairs and eat a snack
when usually he would want to go up to Adam's room, even with Adam's mom there.
"What's up?" Adam asked, but it was his mom who answered, not Tommy, and her
queries about how the lab went didn't answer Adam's question at all.
After a plate of nachos Leila whipped up with some left-over chili, Tommy
finally shrugged and said, "Okay," when Adam asked again if he wanted to go
upstairs.
"Don't have too much fun," Leila teased as they headed for Adam's room. Adam
didn't think that was going to be a problem.
"What's up?" he said again once they were in his room with the door closed.
But Tommy just said, "Nothing." He'd left his guitar last time he was here and
he went and got it, sat on Adam's desk chair looking out the window and started
noodling around with a song Adam didn't recognize.
Two could play at that game, Adam figured, so he got out his English book and
lay down on the bed to read.
They were doing a poetry module for March, and as Adam read, the music Tommy
was playing wove in and out of the words. Not even really noticing he was doing
it, Adam started singing along. Tommy stumbled for a moment and Adam almost
stopped, but the rhythm picked up again so he kept going. He ended the final
stanza on a plaintive high note and Tommy brought his playing to a close with a
flourish.
Adam thought he might get a smile, but Tommy looked at him sadly. "See?" he
said quietly. "We're fucking good together."
It was impossible to sit there and just look at the dejection on Tommy's face,
so Adam went to his knees at Tommy's feet, resting hands on his thighs.
"Of course we're good together. Tommy, you're scaring me. What the hell is
wrong?"
"You could have told me," Tommy said. He was still looking at the guitar, but
at least he was saying something.
Adam was beyond mystified. He couldn't think of a single thing he hadn't told
Tommy in at least six months. "Could have told you what?"
Tommy plucked the G string with the edge of his thumbnail, patted it still and
then plucked the A.
"Tommy?"
"About New York, okay? You could have told me you're leaving."
If his parents were moving him again, Adam was going to have to kill someone.
Or tell them he was eighteen now and wasn't going. But this was the first he'd
heard about moving to New York. "What?" he asked.
"You never said you wanted to be a Broadway star."
"I—" It was true that Adam had dreams of singing on Broadway one day. But it
was the singing that he loved more than anything. And watching the Dingoes play
all these months, he'd started wondering if Broadway was the stage he really
wanted. Mostly, though, he hadn't been thinking much about the future at all;
he was too busy dealing with the present.
And suddenly he realized what this was about.
"Did my mom tell you I got into NYU?"
Still looking down, Tommy strummed the guitar again, and this time it was
Adam's hand that stopped the strings.
"Did she tell you I was going to NYU? Because I never said that. Not to them,
and not to her."
Tommy finally raised his eyes. "She showed me all the stuff, and like what
classes you would be taking and everything."
Adam's fingers tightened on Tommy's thighs, an angry clench, but it wasn't
Tommy he was mad at, so he made his hands relax.
"Mom and I did the whole college tour thing last year. We both loved New York,
and I thought that was what I wanted to do. A lot of it was anything to get out
of San Diego."
Tommy huffed incredulously and snapped, "But life on the Hellmouth is so great
you want to give up the Big Apple? Yeah. That makes sense."
Okay, maybe Adam was a little mad at Tommy. He pushed himself to his feet and
strode across the room. "Yep," he said. "That's exactly it. The Hellmouth." It
was awfully rich, Tommy getting pissed off at Adam for freaking out when Tommy
said he wasn't gay, but feeling totally justified freaking out when Adam's mom
told him something that wasn't even true.
"Well, what, Adam?" Tommy set his guitar down carefully and spun in the chair
to face him. "You expect me to believe that you're just giving up your dreams
of being a big star to stay someplace where you can turn around at any moment
to find your best friend is actually an evil vampire girl from another
dimension?"
"You're my best friend," Adam said.
"I thought I was your boyfriend."
Adam pressed his fingers to his forehead tiredly. "You are my boyfriend. And my
best friend." Then before Tommy could say anything, "But I know that's not your
point."
"I don't even know what my point is," Tommy said, pushing himself from side to
side in the chair with his toe.
"Well my point is that my mom is not who you should be going to for information
about me."
"Sorry," Tommy muttered.
He didn't sound particularly convincing, but Adam wasn't in the mood to fight
about something so stupid, so he didn't call him on it. "C'm'ere," he said
instead, walking back to Tommy and holding his hand out.
Tommy took it and pulled Adam over to the bed, curling up in Adam's arms, face
buried in his chest, thigh wedged between Adam's legs. They didn't talk, or
kiss; Tommy just clung tight around Adam's ribs while Adam stroked his hair and
back.
"Sing?" Tommy said after so long that Adam had been wondering if he'd fallen
asleep.
Adam wasn't sure what Tommy wanted to hear, so he started humming the tune
Tommy'd been playing on the guitar, adding the words from the poem where he
could remember them, just vocalizing when he couldn't. That morphed into a
half-remembered theme song from a TV show he'd watched when he was little, and
that into a sort of medley of songs off Ziggy Stardust. Lying on his side,
chest constricted by Tommy's arm and the press of his forehead against Adam's
sternum, Adam was not singing at his best, but the effort eased the frustration
he was feeling at his mom and Tommy and the stupid Hellmouth this town was
built on. The choir at Sunnydale was better than nothing at all, but they only
performed once a year, so Adam hadn't been on stage except for his birthday
since they'd left San Diego. He needed to do something about that.
Before he could ask Tommy what he thought of maybe trying to get a gig, just
the two of them, at the Bronze, Tommy sat up enough to peer over Adam's
shoulder, and swore.
"Mom's gonna kill me. I told her I'd be home with her stuff before five. It's
almost six."
"Oh," Adam said, trying not to sound too disappointed. He'd been hoping Tommy
could stay for dinner.
Pecking him on the lips, Tommy said, "I'll see you tomorrow at school."
That was very different from Call you later.
 
Tommy wasn't totally ignoring him at school the next day, but he wasn't himself
either. There were no sneak-attack cuddles, or notes in Adam's locker, and
Tommy pulled away first every time Adam kissed him. Usually Adam was having to
push Tommy off in order to get to class on time.
"What's going on with you two?" Willow demanded in hushed tones at lunch time
when Tommy sat on the other side of the table from Adam, his back to him,
talking to Oz.
"I wish I knew," Adam answered.
He didn't find out that day; Tommy passed him a note in history that said he
had to help his cousin out after school and he'd see Adam in the morning at
lockers. It was just signed 'T', no 'love', no 'xx'. When Adam tried to ask him
about it after class, Tommy just tip-toed up to peck him on the corner of his
mouth and said, "Gotta run."
When there was no sign of Tommy at school in the morning, Adam spent the whole
of first period scared he was going to puke. It didn't help that they were
doing experiments with sulfur, which caught in his nose and burned his lungs.
He ran to English, not even stopping at his locker to dump his chem book or
grab his second period folder.
No Tommy.
Adam lasted eighteen minutes before he asked Mr. Baxter for the bathroom pass.
"You just got here, Mr. Lambert." Baxter chided, but he held out the pass, so
Adam didn't see any reason to answer. Scrabbling in his pockets for change, he
ran for the pay phones.
Tommy's mom answered on the fourth ring, just at the point Adam was sure he was
going to get the answering machine and possibly start crying in the middle of
the hall.
"Mrs. Ratliff," Adam said, keeping his voice as normal as possible. "Is Tommy
sick?"
"Oh, no, dear, he's in LA."
Adam's mind flew immediately to Dee. Tommy had decided that he liked fucking
girls better than letting Adam fuck him and had gone back to his ex-girlfriend.
"LA?" he squeaked out. He didn't sound remotely normal.
But Mrs. Ratliff didn't seem to notice. "He went up yesterday to help his
cousin move. They called about midnight; there had been all sorts of problems
and they weren't nearly done. We decided he should just stay until this
afternoon. I thought he might have called you this morning, but I guess they
slept in. You boys, you're always sleeping if you can get away with it."
It all sounded very reasonable. If only Tommy had been actually speaking to him
when he left.
Somehow Adam managed to thank Tommy's mom and hang up without punching the wall
or jamming the receiver through the kiosk. Though he had completely destroyed
half the bathroom pass, which was made of laminated tagboard and vulnerable to
clenched fists.
When he got back to class, Willow took one look at him and started scribbling
frantically on a scrap of paper. A minute later it landed on his desk. Library
after this, it said. It will be okay.
She dragged him down to Mr. Giles' domain when the bell rang, told the
librarian it was nothing he needed to be concerned about, and pulled Adam up
into the stacks. "Tell me everything," she said.
So Adam did. He started with Leila telling Tommy he was going to NYU even
though he wasn't, backed and filled with the fight about whether or not Tommy
was gay, and finished up with Tommy's weird behavior and sudden trip back up to
Los Angeles. The only thing he left out was singing while he held Tommy in his
arms, because that felt too personal. It was just for him and Tommy.
"He didn't have to be such a jerk about the gay thing," Willow said when he was
done. "But really, Adam, bisexuality does exist."
"He wasn't that much of a jerk."
"He kind of was. At least the way you tell it." Willow rubbed Adam's knee
soothingly. "But whatever. What's going on with him now? You said you weren't
decided about New York, so what's his problem?"
Adam still had no idea.
But he was really sick of waiting to find out. Through sheer force of will, and
because Mrs. Ratliff said Tommy wouldn't be back until afternoon, Adam managed
to stay at school through his make-up lab. But from there he went straight to
Tommy's house. Tommy's car was parked out front.
Adam chipped the nail polish off half his left thumbnail (a bad habit he'd
picked up from Tommy without even noticing) waiting for someone to come to the
door. When it opened it was Tommy standing there, wearing nothing but jeans
that were totally falling off his hips, his hair wild and wet like he'd been
toweling it dry before answering the bell
Want made Adam's thighs clench and his knees go rubbery and the certainty that
he'd never have that again made his vision go. He grabbed the door frame for
support and closed his eyes.
The next thing he knew he had a shower-damp Tommy Joe clinging to him like a
limpet, falling over himself with apologies.
This time Adam was not up to multi-tasking, and they ended up on the floor of
the front hall with the door wide open. Tommy sat on Adam's legs, arms around
his neck, kissing his face and throat, still saying he was sorry, and he was
stupid, and something about setting his alarm but it didn't go off.
Adam finally got him to shut up by grabbing his hair in both hands and sealing
Tommy's mouth with his tongue. That lasted until Adam realized Tommy was
shuddering with cold, not just desire, at which point he got them up, got the
door shut, and Tommy down the hall where he could bundle him under the covers.
With Adam, who wasn't going anywhere until he'd figured out what the hell was
going on with his boyfriend.
Before that happened there was more kissing, and Adam getting out of his shirt,
because that was the best way to warm Tommy up, and, well, he wanted to, and
there was some groping and cuddling, and finally Tommy said, "Karl told me I
was an asshole."
"I could have told you that and you wouldn't have had to drive to LA," Adam
said. But he had one hand down the back of Tommy's jeans and was caressing the
back of his neck with the other, making sure Tommy knew that didn't mean Adam
wanted him to go anywhere.
"You can totally go to New York," Tommy said. Before Adam could protest that
again, he added, "And if you want, maybe I could come with you."
"You would do that?" Adam was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt immediately.
"That's the other thing Karl told me. Why should I have to stay in Sunnydale?
Just because I'm not going to college, doesn't mean I have to stay here
forever."
"You're not going to college?" That was— It had never occurred to Adam that
Tommy had no college plans at all.
"It's not really my style." Tommy shrugged. "I want to play music. Not go sit
in theory classes or fucking study calculus or something."
Adam's parents had presented him with many options for his future. Not going to
college at all had never been one of them.
"But the thought of you going off to New York, leaving me here—" Tommy sucked
for a moment on the ridge of Adam's collar bone. "I don't want to stay here
without you."
There had to be more to this story, but relieved that Tommy's freak-out seemed
to be over, and with more to contemplate than he felt up to thinking about with
a half-naked boy in bed with him, Adam decided that making out was better than
talking more about college. At least for the time being.
The sound of the front door closing woke them up about an hour later.
"Shit," Tommy muttered. "Wanna go get some food or something? Don't really feel
like hanging out with mom right now."
Since Adam had eaten the grand total of two bites of a fruit roll-up at lunch,
food sounded perfect.
Over pastrami sandwiches Adam asked Tommy if he wanted to play guitar for him
if they could get any gigs.
"Are you kidding me?" The look on Tommy's face was everything a guy might hope
to see when he popped the question. "Fuck, yes."
"I have some songs," Adam said. "They're not really—" He poked at his potato
chips. "Maybe you want to work on them with me?"
Tommy kicked his foot. "Of course I do, idiot. Have you missed me trying to get
you to sing at every opportunity?"
Adam raised an amused eyebrow. "I haven't missed you trying to get me to blow
you at every opportunity."
"That too." Tommy grinned, and prodded Adam's foot again, this time leaving his
toes resting on Adam's boot. "But I fucking love your voice, man. You should
totally be using it. I'm serious."
"Okay, then. Let's do it."
Too excited to sit around and eat any more, they got their sandwiches wrapped
to go and went back to Adam's house, where Adam got out all his old folders and
notebooks filled with scraps of lyrics and music. He was kind of amazed at how
serious Tommy got. Not that he thought Tommy didn't care about music, but it
was fascinating to see how differently he approached writing versus fooling
around with Depeche Mode and Metallica covers.
By nine thirty they had two of Adam's most finished songs cleaned up, re-
arranged, and about a thousand times better than Adam had been able to make
them on his own.
"You're really good at this," Adam said.
"We're a good team," Tommy corrected. "I can never sing stuff right on my own
to see how the words should go."
"We're so a good team," Adam agreed.
 
Adam waited until the weekend before he talked to his mom about college. He was
mad enough before then about her telling Tommy he was going to NYU that he
suspected he'd turn it into a yelling match, and he needed her to know that
this was a mature and rational decision.
Even though he stayed calm, she didn't quite agree with the mature and rational
part.
"What do you mean you're not going to college?" she said, voice raised.
"I'm going to sing," Adam said, staying totally calm.
"You can sing in school. That was the point." Lelia tried to match Adam's
tone—thank you psychology classes—but she wasn't very successful.
"I don't want to sing in school. I want to go to LA."
Leila breathed. And narrowed her eyes at him. And breathed again. "Call your
father," she said. "Talk to him about it." She went into the kitchen and
started banging around.
Adam figured there was no point putting off calling his dad. Might as well do
it while he was already upsetting people.
Eber was much calmer than Leila, but Adam suspected that was because he didn't
think Adam would keep arguing after he said, "You're going, and that's final."
But, "Yeah. No," Adam said. "I'm not."
That got him a long-suffering sigh and, "Let me talk to your mother." Adam
handed over the phone and walked out the door, headed over to Tommy's house.
The next day Leila tried pushing the west-coast schools Adam got into instead
of continuing her New York pleas, but he really wasn't any more interested in
Riverside or Santa Cruz than he was in anywhere else. He hadn't gotten into
UCLA, and he tried using that as an excuse—that was the school he really
wanted, he'd take a year off and try again—but his mom wasn't buying it.
"Your dad isn't willing to just give you your college fund, you know. It's for
college, not for bumming around in Los Angeles."
Adam hadn't expected to get all of it, but he had been hoping for at least what
they'd been going to give him for room and board. "Fine," he said, though. "I
don't care. This is what I want to do. If you really wanted me to be happy
you'd let me make my own decisions, not live the life you want for me."
Leila actually laughed at that. "Oh, Adam. Please."
"Please yourself," Adam retorted, wishing he had a better comeback. Fortunately
the phone rang and he could answer it instead of waiting for his mom to laugh
more.
"Guess what?" It was Willow.
"What," Adam said, rather more sulkily than he intended.
"Oz got you and Tommy a gig at the Bronze. Monday night."
All Adam's sulk was gone. "What? How?"
"The owner totally owes him a favor." Willow lowered her voice to a whisper.
"Werewolf thing."
Adam couldn't really imagine what werewolf favors might happen, but that
definitely fell into his rather extensive don't ask category.
"I've got to call Tommy," Adam said.
Willow laughed. "You do that."
Tommy had just heard from Oz and he was as over the moon as Adam. "We've hella
gotta practice, though," he said. "Do you want to come over, or should we do it
at your house?"
Adam glanced at his mom who was sitting on the couch looking at him. "Your
house," he said.
"I'll come pick you up."
They started off in Tommy's room, were banished to the Ratliff's garage at 9:
30, and practiced until midnight, when Mr. Ratliff came and told them he
appreciated that they were trying to be quiet, but they were not succeeding and
it was time for Adam to go home. Adam was feeling confident about the two songs
they'd worked up Tuesday, and not bad about the three additional songs they
gotten done during the week. He'd originally envisioned the songs with a whole
band behind him, and he wasn't sure he loved them pared down to voice and
guitar, but that was what they had to work with, so that's what they were
doing.
"It'll be awesome," Tommy said, two fingers on Adam's jaw, after they'd kissed
goodbye in the car out in front of Adam's house. "Don't worry about it."
"I'm not worried," Adam said, surprised that it was actually the truth.
 
The gig was amazing. Willow was there with Oz and the rest of the Dingoes, and
Buffy, Xander and a lot of other kids from school, too. There was the usual
crowd there to play pool and ignore the music, but Adam thought more people
were into it than there were a lot of nights. And it was totally different
singing his own songs, singing with Tommy, than it was getting up and singing a
few covers with some guys he didn't even know on his birthday. It was a drug.
And with an audience there he could totally hear how the songs were supposed to
sound—what they could do with them if they got a band together. He'd performed
in front of much larger audiences, been on stage longer than their forty-minute
set, but he'd always been doing what a director told him to, speaking and
singing someone else's words. This was a million times better.
Everyone wanted to buy them drinks afterwards, but Adam said, "We'll be back.
Just need to put some stuff in the car," barely giving Tommy time to grab his
guitar before he was dragging him out to the parking lot.
"What—" Tommy said, but stopped asking questions when Adam threw him on the
back seat and swallowed his cock. Adam came in his jeans with Tommy's hands
twisting in his hair and nothing more than the press of the car's frame against
his dick.
"That went well then?" Tommy said once he had his breath back and realized that
he was palming a wet spot not a hard-on.
"Imagine doing that in front of ten thousand people," Adam answered.
Tommy huffed a laugh. "If we did that in front of ten thousand people there
might be indecency charges or something."
"Fuck 'em if they can't take a blow job."
"We were awesome."
"Just imagine it, though." Adam was picturing himself on stage at the Civic
Theater, band at his back, Tommy at his side, singing for a packed audience.
There was a ways to go, maybe, but he wanted to get there.
"Today the Bronze, tomorrow the world?"
"Tomorrow LA, maybe, but we're going to make it. I can feel it." Adam cupped
Tommy's junk which he had just gotten buttoned back into his jeans.
"You've done enough feeling for right now. Let's go before they send a search
party."
Adam held Tommy's chin between his forefinger and his thumb, making sure his
boyfriend was looking at him. "Thank you," he said.
Tommy's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted. Adam had to kiss him. When he
finally pulled away, Tommy caught his gaze. "Thank you," he said.
They went back inside to let their friends buy them drinks.
                                    ******
Everything kind of went to shit after that for a while. The perils of living on
a Hellmouth. There was the irritating night that Oz didn't show up to help Adam
and Tommy figure out how one of their songs would sound with guitar and bass,
that thereafter became the awful night that Oz didn't show because Willow had
gotten kidnapped by the evil mayor, who was also insane, and also immortal, and
also had turned Faith evil. Adam was a little fuzzy on that last part, but not
on how he felt about a girl with a really big knife holding his best friend
hostage.
He was torn for about two days between being furious with Oz for not telling
him until after it was over, and being glad he didn't know until Willow was
safe and right in front of him, manic gleam in her eyes. But then Mr. Giles
pulled him aside and told him why they preferred as few people as possible get
involved with these things, and Oz told him about the horrible giant bugs, and
Xander asked if he'd ever fired a crossbow, and Adam decided that Oz had
probably done the right thing.
Then Willow told Adam what the mayor had planned for graduation.
They fought for almost an hour about how stupid it was to stay (Adam's stance)
and how cowardly it was to leave (Willow's), and then Adam had to have the same
fight all over again with Tommy from the opposite side. It all boiled down in
the end to if you're staying, I'm staying. Adam blamed Buffy, because he had to
blame someone, and he figured she was used to taking the blame by now. Besides,
it wasn't like he was going to actually tell her. He still felt a little
guilty, though, and lobbied hard to get her voted Class Protector at the prom.
The hours Adam wanted to be writing music with his boyfriend, he spent learning
how to use a crossbow and practicing with Tommy to hit a paper bullseye nailed
to a tree behind the school. Xander joined them sometimes, and then, as
graduation day drew closer, more and more people came, with hunting bows and
homemade ones, with slingshots and stakes and staffs. Buffy and Mr. Giles and
another English man whose name Adam kept forgetting circled constantly,
correcting grips and giving advice. They were a rag-tag bunch at best, and Adam
was still totally unclear what arrows were meant to do against an immortal hell
beast, but he was going to do everything he could to get him and Tommy out of
high school alive, so he trained.
 
Not everyone survived graduation day. But Adam's family and friends made it
through, and he didn't actually see anyone human get killed, though he did make
use of all that target practice and managed to dust three vampires with his bow
before he lost it in the melee. Tommy fought at his side until it was time to
run and they ran together. Adam had told his mom and Neil to get out the second
anything started to look weird, and he'd seen them escape as soon as the sky
went dark. He felt a twinge of guilt that he wasn't watching out for Willow
during the fight, but she was fiercer than almost anyone else he knew, and she
had Buffy at her side and Oz looking out for her, too. Besides, Adam could only
focus on Tommy.
It was amazing (or maybe not) what nearly getting killed by a pack of vampires
and a rampaging demon would do for a strained relationship with one's parents.
Leila and Eber were thrilled they still had an eldest son, and were no longer
interested in the least in arguing with him about his future. They even decided
to contribute $300 a month to his living expenses so long as he kept at least a
part-time job.
Willow was staying in Sunnydale with Buffy, and Adam figured Oz would stay,
too, but the morning Adam and Tommy were leaving to go up and spend the weekend
with Karl looking for an apartment he dropped by and said, "Don't suppose you
want a third roommate?"
They looked at each other and Oz added, "I'm mostly looking for a home base.
You can have as much sex as you want, and I've got the wolf thing covered these
days."
Tommy shrugged and Adam gave him a little nod, and said to Oz, "We'll see what
we can find."
 
They ended up in a small one-bedroom place near Plummer Park that had room for
Oz's futon in the short end of the L-shaped living room. Tommy's cousin was
only a mile away and said they could use his garage for band practice if they'd
audition a drummer he just met whose pants he'd very much like to get into. She
turned out to be awesome with her sticks, but Karl had to keep his hands in his
own pants and settle for watching her play.
Adam was happy, and he didn't care who knew it. In West Hollywood, he wasn't
just the gay kid anymore. He was Adam Lambert. He was a musician with a part-
time job at Starbucks, a hot boyfriend who could shred on guitar and rock black
lipstick, and a housemate who had a secret and was prone to taking off at least
once a month. He hadn't exactly hated Sunnydale—which gave him Willow, and
Tommy, and a new dream for himself—but Los Angeles was better. Los Angeles was
the place to make the rest of his dreams come true.
Not that it was as easy as finding a good drummer and someone to play keys, but
it felt like it might be possible to make it in the music business in LA if you
weren't too picky about the venues you started off in and were willing to put
yourself out there.
With Tommy by his side, Adam was always willing to put himself out there.
~~fin~~
End Notes
     Timelines fudged a wee bit to work. Also, sometimes when a show
     runner handwaves logic in his finale, it can be fixed in fan fiction.
     Sometimes more Adam/Tommy takes priority and the handwaving
     continues.
     This story literally would not exist if it weren't for amazonziti.
     She was not only instrumental in its inception, but she was a
     tireless cheerleader, idea-provider, Buffy guru, friend, beta, and
     inspiration.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
n’t mention it. I’m glad you two
get along so well. I should head back to town, face the music. Most likely have
to pay a fine. Doesn’t matter that he deserved it. Come on. I’ll walk you
back.”
She shook her head at her and gazed at the water. “You go ahead without me. I
think I’m going to go for a swim before it gets too cold to do so.”
He frowned at her. “I don’t think you should swim here. It’s too dangerous.”
She laughed softly, “I always swim here. I don’t want to swim near the docks
because of Maul. That would be inviting trouble. If I go to the other shore
there are mercenaries that the owner of Goldenglow hired. This is familiar.
Merryfair Farm is right over there. There are Riften guards right close by.
I’ll be fine.”
Letting her stay here was against his better judgment, but it was better than
the alternative of the docks. “Alright, but don’t stay out here too long. Oh,
the coin from the sale of the gems, you still have it on you, right?” Kirsli
nodded and handed him the heavy pouch she’d had stuffed in her trousers. “I’ll
lock this up for you. And before I forget, Shadr asked me to tell you to stop
by. He had something to speak to you about.”
Kirsli shook her head. “Shadr just wants to grope me, too. Maybe once he sees
Hofgrir’s broken nose, he’ll think twice.”
A noise of disgust slipped from Balimund’s lips. “He’d better learn. I’d hate
to have to hurt him, especially since he seems like a good kid. You didn’t
invite it, did you? Not even unintentionally?”
“No, I did not. He is nice, but not all that interesting. Horses are kind of
dull.” She pushed herself from the ground and headed for the water, kicking off
her shoes as she went.
That was Balimund’s cue to leave. The last thing he needed was to be spying on
her while she was swimming. Besides he had been away from the forge for too
long. Adding the fire salts would help greatly. He started to walk away, but
stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with a smile on his face.
“Kirsli, thank you for the fire salts. I do appreciate them.”
Her tunic flew up over a bush followed by her trousers. After that he heard as
splash and a squeal.
He kept walking. He figured it was time to face the music for his rash
behavior.
~*~
***** What Wrath Hath Wrought *****
Chapter Summary
     Hell breaks loose in Riften when a potent storm hits the city.
Chapter Notes
     I added some additional tags recently. This chapter begins a big
     canon divergence. The muse took control of this chapter and wouldn't
     let go so get ready for a hell breaking loose. I was just kinda along
     for the ride. LOL
     This chapter is un-beta-ed. I was in too big of a hurry to post it,
     so sorry for any boo-boos. I tried searching through but I'm terrible
     at checking my own work.
     Warning for minor character deaths.
Balimund returned to his forge, letting Asbjorn know Kirsli was fine and all
was well for the moment. He did wonder, however, when the guards would show up.
He figured for sure that Hofgrir would have reported the assault. He had
noticed when he passed by the stables that Sigaar was gone and neither the
stable master nor his apprentice was outside. He shook his head, reminding
himself that fretting over it like a fishwife would do him no good. What’s done
is done. He’d deal with consequences when and if they came. For now he had work
to do.
And work he did.
He paused long enough to glance into a woven basket laden with several
different kinds of fish, including a rather mangled slaughterfish when Kirsli
appeared at his side sometime later. Fish, chips and hush puppies would be for
dinner.
A couple hours passed, dusk quickly approaching, before a guardsman did stop
by. It was Sigfrost, whom Balimund had always had a good rapport with. He
explained what had occurred, stating he was merely protecting Kirsli and if
anyone should be fined or arrested, it should be Hofgrir for preying upon a
young girl.
He crossed his arms, “All I’m saying is half the men around here have at some
point treated her as such. She’s still a child. If I have to punch every last
one of them in their faces to make them leave her alone, I will.”
“There are rumors that you-”
Balimund’s angry glare halted Sigfrost’s allegation. He held the red hot piece
of steel up, “Don’t make me shove this where the sun don’t shine, you ignorant
fuck. She’s a young girl.”
Sigfrost held his hands up, backing away a step or two. “I didn’t think you
would, but the rumors do exist.”
“Haelga’s doing, no doubt. She must think since I won’t fuck her then I must
have Kirsli in my bed every night. It’s not true. It’ll never be true. If
Kirsli’s smart, which she is, she’ll get the hell out of this shithole. There’s
nothing here.” He felt a small twinge rip through him. He was here and he’d
miss her, but he knew she deserved more than an old smith, whether she could
see it or not.
“Hofgrir didn’t press charges. From what you’ve told me, he’s guiltier than you
are. Just don’t make a habit of this. The paperwork involved is a big hassle.
And besides, the Jarl would shit herself if we threw the city’s blacksmith in
jail, especially with all the orders she’s placed.”
Balimund laughed loudly, now that all the tension had dissipated. “I delivered
a huge shipment of weapons and shields to her the other day. She finally paid
me for the first three. I’m still waiting for payment on this last order. She
said it would be another few weeks before she had it, but it allowed me to
order ore from a couple nearby mines. I’ll have another complete order soon.
She hasn’t said if there’d be any more after that.”
“From what I understand, the civil war is at standstill at the moment. There’ve
been minor skirmishes, but I’ve heard it all hinges on Whiterun. Jarl Balgruuf
wants to stay neutral. My sister lives in Whiterun and she told me in the last
letter she wrote that the Dragonborn openly declared she’d single-handedly
defend Whiterun against any Stormcloak or Imperial attempt to take the city.”
A wide grin crossed Balimund’s face, “I believe she could do it. She’s one hell
of a spitfire. Did you see what she did to Brynjolf?”
Sigfrost glanced over his shoulder to an empty market stall. “He still hasn’t
come back out here, huh? Serves the bastard right.”
“The Dragonborn, Aria, said she’d return to Riften last time she was here. She
was supposed to bring me some fire salts for the forge, but I haven’t heard
from her since.” Balimund shrugged.
Sigfrost rubbed his chin, “I did hear that Kodlak Whitemane was killed during
an attack on Jorrvaskr so that must have the Companions in a bit of disarray.
With her being a member, that could be the reason why.”
Concern crossed Balimund’s face, tempering his earlier mirth. “Must be it then.
I’ll have to send my condolences to her. Do you happen to know who would be
stupid enough to attack the Companions?”
“No, but some of the guards think it had to be perpetrated by the Dark
Brotherhood. Who else could infiltrate the best warriors in Skyrim and kill
their Harbinger, especially with the Dragonborn as one of their members?”
Sigfrost questioned. “There has been a lot of activity by the Brotherhood as of
late. Old Grelod was killed last night.”
“What?!”
Sigfrost nodded, “Constance came to the keep in a panic this morning. Grelod’s
throat was slashed wide open. The Jarl wanted to keep it quiet. She didn’t want
cause for alarm to spread through town. We’ve all heard the rumors about the
boy who ran away, about his alleged use of the Black Sacrament.”
Balimund rubbed his chin, “I’ll have to tell Asbjorn. I’m sure he’ll want to
make sure Constance is alright. That boy is sweet on her.”
Sigfrost cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. When he noticed Kirsli coming
toward them, he had to stop himself from staring at her. The girl was a beauty
and would be downright gorgeous once she was older.
Balimund had noticed though, “Uh-huh, don’t make me punch you, too. I will.”
Mirth twinkled in the blacksmith’s eyes. He didn’t want to have to hit
Sigfrost. The man was one of the few guards in Riften that wasn’t corrupt.
“Just who are you punching now?” She shook her head as she glanced at the
guardsman.
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” The guardsman wandered away, heading back out
on his regular patrol.
“Did you need something, Kirsli?”
She nodded, glancing up at the darkening sky. Heat lightning flashed behind
iron grey clouds. Thunder rumbled like a herd of mammoth charging across the
prairie. “Looks like we’re in for a hell of a storm. It’s coming across Lake
Honrich,” she commented as black storm clouds joined the grey ones. “I came out
to tell you supper’s on the table.”
Then the sky opened up. Torrential rain poured down in heavy sheets. Kirsli
shrieked and made for the door with Balimund on her heels after he managed to
get the cover over the forge and secure it. Both were drenched by the time made
it inside.
“Where in the hell did that come from?” Balimund barred the door against the
battering winds and rain. He hurried to his bedroom, grabbing a spare blanket
from within the wardrobe. He placed it at the bottom of the door to stop water
from coming in under the jamb. “Close the shutters!”
Kirsli raced to do just that, securing the heavy shutters on the windows. Once
that task was done, she returned to Balimund. She shrieked at the sound of
crackling lightning, and a loud explosion which sounded like it wasn’t too far
away. “I’ve never seen a storm like this before,” she said, fear bright in her
eyes.
“Help me grab our plates and let’s take this downstairs. The basement is the
safest place for us to be.” Balimund instructed. He wasn’t sure how long this
storm would last, but they were better off where they were safest.
Asbjorn gave them an odd look when they came down with their plates. “I
appreciate the delivery, but what’s going on?”
“Are you deaf? Do you not hear that storm?”
He brought the grindstone to a halt, listening for a moment. “Now I do. I see
you both must have gotten soaked, so maybe you should put something dry on
before you catch cold.”
Balimund chuckled. Sometimes the way Asbjorn acted he wondered who the ‘adult’
in the house truly was. Even though he still occasionally called Asbjorn a
‘boy’, he was a grown man in his own right. He had raised him to be
authoritative and not take anyone’s shit. “I had planned on it, but I needed to
help her carry things down here.”
Plus he was ravenous and the food on his plate looked and smelled divine. The
fish and chips were crispy and golden brown. The hush puppies looked plump and
juicy. Still he needed to go back upstairs to grab a couple bottles of ale.
“I am definitely getting out of these clothes,” Kirsli commented as she ducked
behind her partition and opened her wardrobe. She pulled from within a simple
dress, and dry small clothes. She quickly changed, tossing her wet and soiled
garments into a woven basket. She’d had to wash laundry soon. She dreaded that.
Balimund was also back, having donned a dark green tunic and loose tan
trousers, by the time she returned to the small table they’d set up as this
evening dinner table. It wasn’t often they all sat down at once for a meal so
this was a pleasant change of pace. Conversation was light, for the most part.
Balimund wanted to wait until they’d all finished eating to pass on the news
about Grelod. He had a good idea how both Asbjorn and Kirsli would react. He
couldn’t blame either of them. She had turned into a mean old woman. One that
had finally got what was coming to her.
Once he was finished, he pushed his plate away and rubbed his belly. “That was
delicious, Kirs. Fresh fried fish and hush puppies so light and fluffy they
melt in your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything finer. You have
outdone yourself, girl.” His eyes shined bright with pride. She never failed to
amaze him.
She beamed, “Thank you. I followed Marise’s recipe precisely. I’d wanted to
make this for a while. Today was just the perfect day.”
“Damn Kirs, you cook better than women twice your age. I hope whenever I get
married, my wife can cook. If not, I’ll have you teach her.” Asbjorn commented
after wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“Well, if it’s Constance, you won’t have much to worry about. She is a good
cook,” she replied. “I think someone needs to teach you some manners, though.”
“Me? I know my manners,” he retorted, fussing with her.
Kirsli snickered, “I don’t know about that. Your elbows aren’t supposed to be
on the table when you eat and you shouldn’t chew with your mouth hanging wide
open. Plus use a napkin, instead of your shirt.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll remember that next I dine in
the presence of Her Royal Majesty, Empress Kirsli.”
That seemed like the opportune moment to share the news. “I heard some news
from Sigfrost earlier,” Balimund began. “Looks like Constance will end up
running Honorhall on her own now.”
“What?
“How?”
“Old Grelod the Kind was murdered last night. Her throat was slit. Sigfrost
suspects the Dark Brotherhood, says there’s been a rash of unexplained killings
all over.” Balimund said.
“So Aventus pulled it off. When he ran away from Honorhall, he swore he would
hire the Dark Brotherhood to kill Grelod. If anyone deserved it, she did.”
Kirsli tried not to look happy by the news, but she knew she was failing
horribly. “She would beat us for the littlest things and only feed us one meal
a day. She would only let us go outside for an hour each day. Then she would
make us chant ‘Thank you, Grelod. We love you, Grelod.’ I never thought I’d
want to cheer over someone’s death, but hers… yes.”
“Don’t feel bad, Kirsli. She was just as bad when I was there. I think I was
one of the last few adoptions she allowed, though. Of course there were rumors
for years that she was secretly selling children. I doubt there was any truth
to it, but there were a few children who mysteriously disappeared after a
while.” Asbjorn added. He paused for a moment. “It’s a damn shame it’s storming
like hell. It’d be nice to check in on Constance and the children to see how
they’re faring. I know she didn’t care much for Grelod, but for something like
that to happen in the orphanage surely scared her.”
Gale force winds slammed into the house, shaking it. “Damn. I hope those winds
don’t tear the roof off.”
Lightning struck, a loud explosion echoing across the sky. Kirsli screamed,
running for her bed. She dived between the furs, pulling them over her head.
Balimund had to stifle a snicker. It wasn’t funny. Not really. The raging storm
didn’t scare him, but it had him worried. Worried the violent winds would rip
the cover off the forge. Worried about what the city would look like once the
storm passed.
The storm raged for hours unending, long into the night, surely fueled by
something unnatural. What he could not guess. The stress of the day drove him
to bed. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He listened to the winds howl,
slamming the walls of the house. Rain still came down in torrential sheets.
Thunder boomed and lightning struck. He pitied anything caught out in that.
Other thoughts troubled him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do about Kirsli. She was
a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and very young. He didn’t think he had done
anything to encourage her infatuation with him.
Damn, though. That little teasing smile. And her eyes twinkling with mirth. She
usually smelled fantastic. And Sigaar hadn’t been wrong about the way she
bounced when she ran.
Lord and damnation. He was a lecherous old pervert for having those thoughts.
He knew it would be best that she get out of Riften before something happened
that they’d both end up regretting. He’d hate to see her go. As much as he
wanted to deny it, he knew it was true. If only she wasn’t so young.
He stopped himself. Nothing good came from thinking like that. It would get him
into more trouble than he could handle.
He needed a woman… in the worst way. He wanted relief from an ache that a
certain redhead had caused without any strings attached. Haelga didn’t interest
him. None of the Ratway whores interested him. He could take matters into his
own hands, but that held no appeal either.
What was a man to do?
~*~
The storm finally abated sometime during the night and with the dawn, the
citizens of Riften were out surveying the heavy damage the storm had wrought.
The three inhabitants of the Scorched Hammer emerged to the sun shining bright.
While their house had suffered minimal damage and Balimund’s forge none at all,
others were not so fortunate.
The charred remains of Black Briar Manor stood out starkly. The Meadery also
suffered heavy damage, its roof partially torn off. Upon the island in the lake
Goldenglow Estate was a smoldering ruin.
The stalls in the market had been leveled, reduced to splinters of wood by the
force of the wind and rain. Haelga’s Bunkhouse and the Bee and Barb along with
the Fishery, the Pawned Prawn, the Temple of Mara and Honorhall had suffered
light damage, mostly shingles torn from their roofs. Riften Warehouse was a
burned out shell, the bodies of Sarthis Idren and Orini Dral floating amongst
near the canal. Beggar’s Row had flooded, as had most of the homes in the canal
and parts of the Ratway. No one was yet certain of the death toll.
In times of tragedy, everyone lent a helping hand. Jarl Laila left the security
of her keep to survey the damage and see to the needs of her people. Some
however were not interested in such. Maven’s strident voice could be heard
throughout the town as she screamed at Laila, demanding compensation for the
loss of her home and the damage to her business. The Black Briar Matriarch,
Hemming, Ingun, and Maul all stood on the grounds of the temple. Ruin was all
they could see between them and Mistveil Keep.
Lightning had apparently struck the house, waking the sleeping inhabitants.
They all had managed to make it out of the house, with naught but the clothes
on their backs, when the second bolt struck. Maven claimed the lightning
strikes sparked the fire which ignited the roof and consumed her great manor.
Though there were others, members of the guard, who whispered of a dragon
sighting, claimed they’d heard its thu’um thundering across the heavens during
the worst of the storm. Others claimed someone was out for blood. Someone
wanted to ruin Maven Black Briar.
Some claimed if Maven pulled up stakes and left, the city would fall into
further decline. The loss of one of its biggest industry’s would cripple
Riften. Others relished in seeing her gone and would move quickly to fill the
void the Meadery left.
Only time would tell.
~*~
It took months for the city to fully recover and by the time winter had set in,
things were tentatively back to normal. Maven’s misfortune increased as the
destruction of her country lodge and theft of her prize stallion, Frost, was
brought to light. She and her family remained a guest of Jarl Laila in Mistveil
Keep.
But in the days following the massive storm, the death toll was finally
confirmed. Nineteen of Riften’s citizens had lost their lives. Most were
counted among the poor and destitute hiding out in the Ratway. Madesi survived
the flooding of Beggar’s Row, but Edda and Snilf had not. In light of that
tragic event, Madesi moved into Haelga’s Bunkhouse and Beggar’s Row closed off,
by order of Jarl Laila Law Giver.
Sarthis Idren and Orini Dral had drowned, as had Ratway inhabitants Drahff,
Hewnon Black-Skeever, Hefid the Deaf, Knjakr, an ex-Imperial soldier named
Salvianus, and Gian the Fist. There were nine others found, five males and four
females in what the guards claimed had been a skooma den, but they had no names
or information for them. It would be up to Arkay to bless their souls and see
them to a better afterlife.
That much death at once had put a strain on poor Alessandra, who reached out to
other priests of Arkay from neighboring holds. Runil from Falkreath responded
as did Andurs from Whiterun, but Helgird in Windhelm had her hands full with
the Butcher murdering young women.
Cooler temperatures settled in. Most mornings brought scattered snow flurries.
But life continued on. The remains of Black Briar Manor were hauled away and
construction had begun on an even larger manor house where it had once stood.
Rumors abounded of where the money came from to build so extravagantly. It was
the new topic of gossip whenever people met up in town or at the Bee and Barb.
Some said Maven had bullied Laila into paying out a fortune for the damages.
Others claimed she called in favors from the Thieves Guild. She had backed and
supported them long enough. Now it was time for pay up.
Other business owners like Balimund knew it had to have come from the Jarl. He
had delivered one final shipment of weapons to her, only to learn his payment
for it and the one before would be delayed indefinitely due to the storm. He
told her then and there any further orders would require the payment she owed
him for the work already done plus payment in full ahead of time. He had lived
up to his end of the bargain on time, despite the storm and its aftermath. He
expected her to live up to hers.
It wasn’t the Jarl’s fault Maven’s home had burned to the ground during a
storm. It was a disaster, plain and simple, but Maven thought only of herself.
It was a pity the bitch hadn’t perished in the fire.
Aringoth, owner of Goldenglow Estate and supplier of the honey which Maven’s
Black Briar Mead was produced from, had sold the bee farm to an unknown buyer
in the aftermath of the storm. Nothing remained standing on the island. The
house had burnt down as had all the apiaries. The wood elf and his mercenaries
had barely escaped with their lives.
Somehow production resumed at the Meadery once the roof and significant water
damage had been repaired. To hear Maven tell it though, the storm was a
carefully disguised attack against her. And someone would pay for that.
~*~
In the midst of all the rebuilding, Balimund noticed Talen-Jei making the
rounds in the market place, handing something out while he worked a blade on
the grindstone for a wandering minstrel. Kirsli was nearby at the tanning rack,
working some leather. She’d recently expressed an interest in wanting to learn
so he started her on the basics, tanning leather. She hated it most days,
grumbling over the smell. But it kept her busy and kept the foolish thoughts
out of her head.
When the Argonian stopped by the forge, he had a wide smile on his green scale
reptilian face. “Tidings, Balimund. How are you this wonderful day?”
The smith raised a brow. Something had Talen in a chipper mood, “Can’t
complain, I suppose. And you?”
“Quite well, thank you.”
Talen’s smile seemed to go on for days, and it was a pleasant change from the
somber mood everyone had been in as of late. He brought the grindstone to a
stop, examined the edge on the blade then turned his attention back to the
Argonian. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I’ve seen you all
around the market.”
“I have been personally delivering invitations to an engagement party. I asked
Keerava to marry me and she said yes,” Talen-Jei replied. “It’s this coming
Loredas. We’d love to have both you and Kirsli in attendance. Oh, and Asbjorn
as well.”
“Congratulations to both of you. It’s about time you make an honest woman of
her, Talen,” Balimund chuckled. “I’m happy for you. She is a fine woman. I’ll
let Asbjorn know, unless you plan on dropping an invite off at Honorhall. He
spends most his time there with Constance. I do believe there may be wedding
bells in his future, too. He hinted about asking her the other night.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to ask her. In Black Marsh, we have a
tradition of presenting our intended with a special ring. I had the band, but
lacked the three flawless amethysts for the setting. A few months back a woman
was in the Bee and Barb, I’d never saw her before or since, but she promised
she’d get them for me.”
“Was she blonde? Real pretty? Wearing studded armor?”
Recognition flashed through Talen’s eyes. “Yes, that’s her.”
“Her name is Aria. She’s the Dragonborn.”
Talen looked stunned. “I never thought someone like her would take an interest
in something I needed, but the amethysts arrived not long after by courier. I
then had Madesi put the whole thing together. We had originally planned the
party a while back, but it didn’t seem right after the storm hit.”
Balimund tried to keep the emotions from his face. Anger, disappoint,
foolishness. What was it that Kirsli had said that fateful day? Maybe don’t be
taken in by a pretty face next time, huh? If that wasn’t the truth. He’d
learned his lesson. He really wasn’t out much. A suit of armor. The fire salts
Kirsli had gotten for him had been enough to ‘kickstart’ his forge back to
life. They kept it going until he could place an order with his usual supplier.
Still it bothered him that she toyed with him and never meant to follow
through. “Well, I’m sure Kirsli will be excited about going. I think it might
be just what we need to make this place feel not so dreary. Thank you. We’ll
see on Loredas.”
As Talen continued on making his rounds, Kirsli bounded over, having heard
portions of the conversation. “Did he say party? Does that mean there will be
dancing?”
“Yes, Kirs. I’m sure there will be dancing.”
She squealed, “I’ve never been to a dance. Oh I’ll need to buy a new dress.”
He shook his head at her, “Rein it in. You have work to do first. If that hide
is tanned to my satisfaction, I’ll let you run over to Bersi’s after dinner.
That is you don’t spend too much time daydreaming and burn our dinner.”
“Oh, you!” She huffed indignantly. “I have never once burned your dinner. You
just keep it up and I just might. I’ll feed you charcoal.”
Balimund’s laughter boomed loudly. It was so fun to get a rise out of her. She
puffed like a banty hen. He had to admit it took an edge off the sore feelings
left behind by Aria. Never again, he told himself. Never trust a beautiful
woman. And people wonder why he was a still a bachelor. It was less complicated
this way. Not that he hadn’t hoped the right woman would come along at some
point. Ah, but he was better off. He had his work and Kirsli to think about.
Keeping her on the straight and narrow was a full time job.
That had to be enough. Maybe someday it wouldn’t be. But for now, it would do.
~*~
***** A Slew of Suitors *****
Chapter Summary
     Kirsli has her choice of dates for the impending party, but not the
     one she wants. Also Aria returns to Riften.
Chapter Notes
     I took some liberties with Aria's explanation of what happened to the
     Companions. It just made more sense to write it the way I did.
     The dress Kirsli buys from Bersi is from a mod. Also it isn't sold at
     Bersi's store either. More liberties there. But the dress is from the
     Elven_Dresses_by_Naihaan mod.
The tanned hide Kirsli presented him was good quality work. He was quite
pleased with it and told her so. She beamed at his approval. Balimund wasn’t
surprised, though. She was an eager student, hungry for knowledge. Her young
mind was a sponge, absorbing information as fast as it was presented. She had
succeeded in every task he’d set her to so far. It made him even more sure that
she should get out of Riften. She could do anything she set her mind to.
After Kirsli had completed her lessons at the forge and fixed a wonderful
supper, she ran off to look at Bersi’s supply of dresses. She wanted something
special for the dance. She hoped she could convince Balimund to be her date.
Maybe if she worked the ‘it’ll keep everyone else from groping me’ angle it
would convince him. Besides there was no one else in town he’d go with.
The selection of dresses at the Pawned Prawn left much to be desired, but he
had one that was very pretty. It was deep green with a gold embroidered
neckline and belt with flowing lighter green sleeves. She couldn’t believe
she’d find such a treasure here. “Bersi,” she exclaimed. “I want this one!”
“Oh, that one, huh?” Bersi frowned. “Nivenor had it special ordered all the way
from Alinor and then when it got here, she wouldn’t take it because she said it
was the wrong color. If I let that go for anything less than 200 septims, I’d
be losing money. Honestly, girl, I don’t think you have that kind of money.”
Kirsli placed her hands on her hips and stared him down, “Actually I do. Hold
the dress. I’ll be back for it in a few minutes.”
Bersi raised an eyebrow at her as she dashed out of the shop. She returned to
the Scorched Hammer, skidding to a stop near Balimund. She watched him for a
few moments while he worked the bellows, then grabbed a half forged sword. He
pounded upon the metal, shaping it. He seemed to know she was there, for he
glanced up at her. “Do you need something, Kirsli? Thought you were off to buy
a dress?”
“I was, but I didn’t take enough coin with me. I need into my savings,” she
said with a smile.
Balimund nodded, “Give me a few and I’ll be in, alright?”
She dashed into the house and sat by the hearth. The house was quieter now that
Asbjorn wasn’t around as much. She was happy for him and Constance. She smiled
and thought of the Amulet of Mara he’d been carrying around as of late. He also
commissioned a special ring for Constance from Madesi. She thought it was so
romantic. It seemed so many people were getting married. Keerava and Talen Jei
and soon Asbjorn would ask Constance. She’d even heard whispers that Aerin
would finally propose to Mjoll, even though she never knew there was anything
romantic between the two. A part of her couldn’t help but feel envious. She
wanted that…a husband, a family. She knew it wouldn’t happen, though. The one
she wanted didn’t feel the same about her. She could hope, though. Maybe,
someday.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A squeak came from her lips,
“You scared me!”
Balimund chuckled, “Sorry, Kirs. I thought you heard me come in. Let’s get your
gold.”
She followed him into his bedroom where he knelt down at the safe. He worked
the lock, opening it then reached inside and grabbed the pouch she’d given him
months ago. “Oh, Valindor is outside. Said he wanted to talk to you. I bet he
wants to invite you to go to Keerava and Talen’s engagement party with him.”
“Oh,” she sighed. Valindor was nice and cute. One of the few men in Riften who
hadn’t groped her. He just wasn’t what she wanted, though. “Okay.”
She watched Balimund leave the room and counted out the coin she’d need for the
dress. It was an awful lot of money for one dress, but nobody in Riften would
have one like it. She’d surely be the belle of the ball, so to speak. Once she
returned her remaining coin to the safe, she closed it, making sure it was
locked and left the house.
Valindor waited near the forge for her. She approached him, a smile on her
face, “Hello.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “I was wondering would you be my date to the
engagement party?”
Kirsli turned her head away, glancing towards Balimund. She leveled almost
pleading eyes upon him, begging for help.
“It’s up to you, Kirsli. I’ll be closing the shop that night, maybe even ask
someone myself,” Balimund replied. He immediately noticed her glare before she
turned back to Valindor.
“Can I get back to you on that?” She replied. “I’ve never been to a dance
before.”
“Oh sure,” he said as a dejected look crossed his face. “You’ve probably have a
lot of offers to consider.”
He walked away with slumped shoulders. Having to turn him down made her feel
bad, but she wanted Balimund to be her date. She’d just have to convince him.
Maybe once he saw her in her new dress. Heading back to the Pawned Prawn, she
handed Bersi the 200 septims he was asking for the dress and immediately took
it home.
She had to make some adjustments to it. It was too tight in the bodice, for
one. And the waist had to be let out as well. It was obvious it was originally
made for an elven woman. It was a good thing Kirsli was so petite or even with
her adjustments she would have never been able to fit into the dress.
It made her feel pretty.
~*~
The next day saw a steady stream of young men coming by the Scorched Hammer to
ask Kirsli to the party. First it was Ungrien on a mid-morning break from the
Meadery. Balimund hadn’t given her any lessons due to her working on the dress
she bought. He motioned at the door, letting the Bosmer know Kirsli was inside.
When Ungrien left a few minutes later, he had the same dejected expression that
Valindor wore the night before. It was obvious she either didn’t give him an
answer or turned him down.
A little while later, a mage for hire named Marcurio who kept a room at the Bee
and Barb came to call. That one puzzled Balimund. He wasn’t even aware they
knew each other, but still he directed the mage inside the house. This one he
noted was in the house longer than the others had been. It must be because
Kirsli had expressed an interest in going to the College of Winterhold. When
the mage left, he was whistling a tune. Balimund wasn’t sure what that meant.
Had the girl actually chosen a date or was this one just better at hiding it
than the others?
When he went inside for lunch, and asked her if she had accepted someone yet
her vague response was ‘just seeing what my options are.’ He pinched the bridge
of his nose and growled frustratingly, knowing the young swains would keep
bothering him until she chose someone.
“You can’t just string them along. You have to make a choice,” he reminded her,
with a very disapproving look on his face.
Kirsli glared back, “Maybe I’m waiting for the right one.” She bounded down
into the basement to finish the adjustments on her dress.
Teenagers, he thought ruefully, as he wearily rubbed his face. I’m too old for
this. He had no sooner headed back to the grindstone when Tythis approached
him.
“Is Kirsli here?” The Dunmer asked.
“What do you want with Kirsli?” Balimund replied, none too kindly.
Tythis eyed the smith suspiciously, wondering why he seemed so unfriendly
towards him. “I wanted to ask her to the party. Is that a problem?”
Balimund pulled the sword he’d been sharpening away from the grindstone and
stood up, his hands on his hips with the sword still in hand. A very stern look
crossed his face, his eyes narrowing angrily, “You of all people dare to ask if
that’s a problem? After what you did to her? Dangled food in front of a
starving girl, but wouldn’t let her have it unless she let you fuck her. I’d
say that’s a problem, elf. Now get out of here before I shove this where the
sun don’t shine and don’t let me see you anywhere near her. Understood?”
Tythis backed away quickly. He could see there would be no reasoning with the
blacksmith.
Romlyn Dreth was the next to stop by, about an hour after Tythis. What was it
with the elves all coming to ask Kirsli? He didn’t get it. Wouldn’t they rather
be with their own kind? Romlyn fared worse than all the rest. Kirsli turned him
down flat.
Then there was Shadr, another hour after Romlyn. Balimund watched as Kirsli
slapped him and told him to go fondle one of his horses. He tried to keep a
straight face, but knew he had failed. It made him very proud of her.
“I’m going over to Honorhall for a while to help Constance,” Kirsli said as she
dashed off. He groaned, wondering how many more suitors would stop by to ask
her to be their date for the party.
If only she would just pick someone.
~*~
As mid-afternoon waned into dusk another admirer stopped by to ask her to be
his date. One Balimund hadn’t expected. It was Saerlund, one of Jarl Laila’s
sons.
“Pardon me, is your ward Kirsli present by chance?” Saerlund asked, though he
seemed rather nervous.
Though he had grown tired of the constant interruptions because of this party,
he had to bite his tongue on this one. He certainly couldn’t yell at the Jarl’s
son. “No, she is not, my lord. I believe she’s visiting Honorhall.”
Saerlund leveled a haughty look upon Balimund. “Why would she go there?”
The smith replied, “She grew up there. Now that Constance runs the place, she
often helps out with the children. Can I give her a message from you? I’m
rather busy right now.”
Saerlund shook his head, “No, I shall come back tomorrow. I thank you for your
time.”
A mage, the Jarl’s son, almost every eligible bachelor in Riften had been by to
ask Kirsli to this damned party. He shook his head. With each interruption to
his work, Balimund grew even more annoyed. At this rate, he wouldn’t get
anything done.
The next interruption was Grelka. “Excuse me,” she began in her usual
disdainful voice. “I was wondering if you had a date for Keerava and Talen’s
shindig and if you didn’t, would you go with me.”
Balimund had planned on asking someone, but it wasn’t Grelka. “Sorry, Grelka, I
have a date already,” he crossed his fingers and hoped the woman he had in mind
would accept so he wouldn’t be lying.
“Oh, so the rumors are true.”
“No, they’re not. And no, my date isn’t Kirsli. Haven’t you noticed the slew of
men who’ve come through here to ask her to go with them?” He retorted. “You
know, Grelka, you’d be a whole lot prettier if you smiled once in a while.”
Then he turned back to the forge. She hissed in outrage and stalked away, back
to her reconstructed stall. He worked the bellows, rejuvenating the flame
inside the forge. His focus returned to the sword he’d been shaping. It was
turning out quite nice, a piece he could sell in his shop for a good price, but
it was at a critical stage right now. Any more interruptions would surely have
him tossing it into the scrap pile.
~*~
The sound of a hammer ringing against the anvil drew her like a moth to a
flame. It had been a while since she’d been to Riften, since she’d seen him
swing that hammer, the muscles bunching and releasing beneath his tunic and
apron. He was still a gorgeous sight to behold. This time, she reminded
herself, she had to behave. As she stared, from her perch on the wall near
where Brynjolf’s stall once stood, unabashed, he plucked out a red hot length
of steel. She watched his brows furrow, his muscles contracting, before he
slapped the steel onto the anvil. The sword blade he had been shaping had his
full attention. Her eyes lingered on him, watched as his lips moved. She
imagined him sweet-talking the steel, coaxing it into shape with the sound of
his voice and the blows of his hammer.
She focused on his high cheekbones and wide jaw. The heat from the forge and
the soot from the smelter seemed permanently worked into the lines of his face,
so many years of hard labor. His wheat colored hair had been tied back, a few
leather-bound plaits shifted softly at the side of his face. Each smack of his
hammer sent beads of renewed sweat dripping down his chin to sizzle upon the
anvil.
She hopped down from her perch, imagining what he would look like when he was
scrubbed clean and all dressed up. Now was her chance to find out. She closed
the distance between them, clearing her throat as she stopped in front of the
forge.
He didn’t seem to have heard her, didn’t even look away as he shoved the sword
blade back into the fires of his forge before pulling it back out and placing
it back on the anvil. He hammered it into a smoother shape, pleased with how it
is coming along. But whatever was blocking his light was getting annoying.
“Did you need something?” He asked without looking up. “Or are you just going
to stand there blocking my light? And before you ask, no, Kirsli isn’t here
right now. Well, speak up!”
“I’m not here for Kirsli,” she purred. His assertiveness amused her.
“What do you want then?” he groused before he looked up at her at the smiling
woman. This was someone he hadn’t expected to see.
“Have I come at a bad time?”
“Aria,” he breathed, setting the hammer back on the anvil and stepping over to
the blonde-haired Nord standing before him. Seeing her there, a smile on her
beautiful face, made him feel like he’d been gut punched. An array of emotions
coursed through him. He could have lost his forge if it hadn’t been for Kirsli
bringing him the fire salts. He felt swindled, foolish to have fallen for a
pretty face. There were a million things he wanted to say to her, but in that
moment words escaped him.
Balimund's honey brown eyes slowly looked her up and down until he caught her
silvery gaze. There was something different about her now. Something he hadn’t
noticed all those months ago. She was just as beautiful as he remembered but
there was an intensity that thrummed about her. Could it be she’d grown in
power as the Dragonborn?
“Can we talk?” She asked. She had a sincere look upon her face. “I know you’re
busy…”
He nodded. He should at least hear her out. He figured she had come to Riften
for Keerava and Talen Jei’s party. “Give me a few moments to properly cool this
sword and I’ll be in. Just make yourself at home.”
He watched as she walked away, forcing his mind back to the blade on his anvil
and away from the turmoil that threatened to take over. He dowsed the metal in
the trough, hearing it sizzle. He knew he’d have to quench the blade properly,
but for now, this would do.
Once he’d stowed it and a few other pieces he’d worked on that day in a locked
box under his workbench, he made his way into the house. Aria was seated before
the fireplace, flipping through a stack of papers. He made it a point to
thoroughly wash his hands and face before he joined her.
“What are those, if you don’t mind me asking?” He motioned to the stack of
papers.
“Bounties and such,” she smiled at him, “The joys of being Harbinger.”
“Harbinger, is it now? That’s a lofty title. I heard about what happened to
Kodlak Whitemane. You have my sincerest condolences.” Balimund replied as he
reached out to caress her hand.
“It was a terrible time from the Companions. First we lost Skjor. Then we lost
Kodlak. I thought the Circle would tear itself apart in grief but Kodlak’s
wisdom held us together even though he was gone.” She gave him a wan smile. “I
thought for sure Vilkas would be named his successor, but no, Kodlak chose me.”
“We heard the rumors that followed his death, but those never said who was
responsible for attacking the Companions. Personally I think anyone who’d take
on you lot has a death wish. Who’d attack the Companions when the Dragonborn is
one of their members?”
Aria laughed, “Oh yes, they had a death wish. It was the combined efforts of a
group called the Silver Hand and the Dark Brotherhood. One of the members of
the Brotherhood used to be a Companion. In fact, he was a part of the Circle.
He turned over Companion secrets to the Silver Hand. Let’s just say once we had
wiped out the Silver Hand and avenged Skjor and Kodlak, I made it my mission to
go after the Brotherhood. And now they are no more. I shouted the door right
off of their sanctuary with the blessing of the Penitus Oculatus and painted
the walls red with their blood. Even the traitorous ex Companion. He thought he
could best me in combat. I proved him wrong. It’s never wise to piss off the
Dragonborn. I’m a vengeful bitch when I have to be.”
“You wouldn’t be a Nord if you weren’t,” Balimund chuckled, though she seemed a
little bit scarier than she ever had before. “I’m wondering, though, if you
took care of the Brotherhood, who was behind the murder of Old Grelod over at
the orphanage.”
Aria pursed her lips, and exhaled, “That was me. I had heard about the boy in
Windhelm who was trying to call the Dark Brotherhood so I went to see him. He
thought I was one of them. He told me his story, told me about Grelod and the
how horrible she was, and as far as I knew, the Brotherhood hadn’t made a move
to take this kid’s contract. Plus I was searching for them for a different
reason. Now killing an old woman in her bed isn’t heroic or something I’m proud
of, but it was a means to an end. Astrid made the mistake of coming after me
personally. I roasted her alive with my fire breath. From what I’ve heard, the
children are better off now and the world is rid of the Dark Brotherhood. So I
call that a win-win. You probably think I’m horrible now.”
“Not at all. Grelod deserved it. We all knew it. Most people preferred to look
the other way and do nothing about the way she treated her charges. I think
Asbjorn and Kirsli would thank you if they knew, but I’m guessing you don’t
want that getting out so I won’t say a thing,” he surmised.
“Thank you. I’d rather everyone believe that was a Dark Brotherhood hit. I am
Harbinger now. I have a certain reputation to uphold.” Aria straightened her
shoulders and tried to look dignified. “Actually, one of the reasons I stopped
by...” she reached down into the satchel sitting upon the floor and pulled out
a rather large earthen crock. “I believe I owe you some fire salts.”
Balimund blinked at her. He hadn’t expected that. “I had written those off
quite some time ago. Kirsli actually managed to get a hold of some to tide me
over until I could place an order with my usual supplier.”
Aria shrugged her shoulders, “After I returned to Whiterun is when things
started escalating with the Silver Hand. They are a group who has fought the
Companions for many years. Some would even say they’ve hunted us, for reasons I
can’t go into. Every group has its secrets. I sent couriers out with things I’d
promised to various people. I found out not long ago that all of them reached
their destination except one and of course it was the one carrying your fire
salts. Oddly enough he was killed by a mage who summoned a flame atronach. So
whether you need them or not now, here is double what you originally asked
for.” She handed him the crock. It was warm to the touch.
It also warmed his heart. “That’s quite ironic. I should have known that
something went wrong. I didn’t think you were the type to promise something and
not follow through, but I have to admit, at one point when it seemed the forge
was ready to give out, I cursed you for it. I thank you for these.” He placed
the crock in his room where it wouldn’t be disturbed.
“You are very welcome,” Aria smiled. “So how about you take me to dinner?”
His smile matched hers, “Only if you’ll go with me to Keerava and Talen’s party
on Loredas?”
“I’d be happy to. In fact I was going to ask you, but you beat me to it.”
Aria’s eyes twinkled like stars in the heavens.
“Give me some time to clean up and I’ll meet you at the Bee and Barb,” he
smiled, his eyes shining brightly. She had just made his day. He couldn’t
believe his luck. Perhaps there was hope after all.
“I can do that. I need time to get out of this armor anyway,” Aria giggled then
headed for the door.
Balimund took a few minutes to mull over in his mind what had just happened.
Not only did she bring him fire salts, but he wouldn’t have to worry about
asking anyone else to the party, not even the woman he had in mind. Of all the
things he was sure would happen today, this wasn’t even on his list. Not that
it didn’t make him happy, for it had.
Grabbing the crock of fire salts he immediately took them outside and fed them
to his forever hungry forge. It blazed to life. While it was a beautiful sight
to see, he had another beauty on his mind. He whistled a happy tune as he
headed back to the house. Once inside he set up the tub in the basement. He had
to carry in water from the well in the market, but he made quick work of that
and warmed it with a fire spell.
After a quick but thorough bath, he dressed in the finest clothes he owned. The
maroon brocade finery still fit despite the fact he hadn’t wore it in years. He
brushed out his hair, and re-plaited the sides then trimmed his mustache.
Finally he slipped his feet into the shoes that matched the outfit.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date. He knew, though, if he
approached this with the same confidence he put into his work, he’d be just
fine. Still it wasn’t everyday that an ordinary smith had the Dragonborn as his
date. He was looking forward to where this went.
~*~
On his way out, he ran into Kirsli carrying her basket full of foodstuffs.
“Balimund, I have a new recipe I want to try out. Oh, are you going somewhere?”
“Yes, to the Bee and Barb for dinner. So how about you try out your recipe
tomorrow night?” He smiled down at the petite redhead who at her full height
barely reached the top of his shoulders.
Kirsli frowned, looking particularly dejected. “Oh okay. I’ll just rummage
around for something. You have a nice time.” She watched him walk away, heard
the happy tune he was whistling. Who was he having dinner with? She turned away
and went into the house, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to
know.
~*~
***** Dinner with the Dragonborn *****
Chapter Summary
     An evening of fine dining and threats leads to retaliation Balimund
     never anticipated.
Chapter Notes
     I made up the story that Balimund tells about his past. He's probably
     my favorite non-warrior type marriageable character. I've had many
     characters marry him.
     "Dreh ni fus dii bah" is dragon tongue for "Do not force my wrath!"
     Kaan Drem Ov - Kyne's Peace shout (Kyne Peace Trust)
     Aria outfit during dinner is a port from Witcher 3. Yennefer's DLC
     outfit.
He whistled the melody to ‘Ragnar the Red’ while crossing the short distance
from his home to the inn. He had hoped he wouldn’t run into Kirsli, but was
relieved that the encounter went better than he would have expected. He figured
she’d ask a dozen questions and then get mad about him dining with Aria. At
times he was at his wits end about what to do with her. He had tried to
convince her he was too old for her. She had backed off quite a bit, but he
knew her ardor hadn’t cooled entirely. He knew she still watched him, still
hoped for something she couldn’t have. It made him more resolute in his
thinking that she should get out of Riften. Nothing good would come if she
stayed.
He pushed those thoughts aside and made his way into the Bee and Barb. Aria was
sitting upon one of the stools in front of the bar, chatting with both Keerava
and Talen Jei. She looked resplendent in dark blue blouse with black feathers
at the top of her sleeves that left her shoulders bare, a tight black corset,
black skirt and thigh-high black leather boots. Her blonde hair fell over one
shoulder in silky waves that he longed to touch. He couldn’t help admiring her
from afar. She was magnificent.
“There’s my date,” she announced, hopping off the bar stool. She strutted
across the room, as if they were the only two people in the room. “I was
beginning to wonder. Thought maybe you’d stand me up.”
Her grin told him she was teasing. “Never,” he replied. “It’s not every day
that I have such delightful company.”
Talen approached them, “Would you like a table down here or would you prefer to
dine privately upstairs?”
“Down here is fine, Talen,” Aria nodded toward an empty table and smiled.
“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”
“Thank you, my lady,” the Argonian said and directed them to the table. He
handed them each a menu. “Let me know when you are ready to order.”
“Talen, call me Aria, please. We are friends. I get so tired of being ‘my lady-
ied’ and ‘my Thane-d’ and ‘Harbinger-ed’ and ‘Dragonborn-ed’ to death.” She
gently reminded him with a pleading look in her eyes.
He nodded, “Yes, my- Aria.”
She glanced over the menu then turned her gaze to Balimund. “I don’t know about
you, but I think I’ll have the venison steak with a baked potato and a piece of
that jazbay crostata Keerava was talking about earlier. Oh and one of your
specialty drinks, please.”
“Which one?”
“Surprise me,” Aria smiled widely up at Talen.
Balimund handed his menu to Talen, “I’ll have what she’s having, except for the
specialty drink. Just make mine an ale.”
Talen smiled, “I’ll have this right out to you.” The Argonian headed off toward
the kitchen leaving Aria and Balimund alone at the table.
She grinned at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “You clean up real nice.
Who’d have thunk it?”
“Thunk? Is that even a proper word, Miss Dragonborn?” he chuckled, teasing her
right back. A pretty pink blush crossed her cheeks, causing her to avert her
eyes for a moment. She knew she was playing coy, but she had to. Otherwise,
she’d end up doing something she knew she shouldn’t. Farkas had agreed to marry
her and she couldn’t be happier about it.
“I make up my own words,” she quipped. “But what I meant to say is you look
very nice tonight.”
“I’ve been known to knock the soot from the forge off every once in a while, if
I have a reason,” he winked. “Most days I spend from dawn to near midnight
slaving away. My forge, she’s a demanding mistress.”
“Oh, is that why there’s no little woman? Why you’ve never settled down?”
Balimund watched her carefully, gauging her reaction as he spoke his next
words, “Are you applying for the position of little woman?”
Her expression sobered. She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew she would have to
tell the truth, but she didn’t want to ruin the evening. She certainly didn’t
want to lead him on.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he spoke up, certain a woman like her didn’t
spend her nights alone. He figured there was someone in her life, someone
better suited to her way of life. He certainly couldn’t see her settling for a
blacksmith. “In fact, I shouldn’t have asked.”
She plastered a smile back on her face, “No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t tease the
way I do.”
“Who is the lucky man then?” Balimund ventured to ask even though he felt a
twinge of jealousy. It was silly, he knew. This was only the second time he’d
ever met her. He had no claim on her life.
“His name is Farkas. He’s a Companion, one of my Shield-Brothers. He’s the one
who convinced me to join in the first place. Alvor of Riverwood had asked me to
let Jarl Balgruuf know about Helgen and the dragon lurking about because
Riverwood is just a small village with no wall so I headed off to Whiterun. I
made it close to the city, and in the fields of one of the outlying farms is
this giant. At first all I can see is it smashing its club into the ground. I
pulled my crappy bow and fire at its head. I run forward and I see three
warriors fighting it. Aela was a short distance away, firing arrows at it.
Farkas and Ria were at its feet, hacking away at it with their swords. I kept
firing, hoping I wouldn’t hit one of them.”
Balimund leaned in, raptly listening to her tale.
“Finally, it lets out a thunderous roar and keels over. The ground shook under
our feet. I approach, hoping to salvage some arrows from its thick hide. I
didn’t have very much coin. Alvor gave me what he could spare. He made me some
decent armor so I wouldn’t get killed on the way. It wasn’t anywhere near the
quality of work you would produce, but it worked well enough starting out. Aela
comes over and says something like ‘Well that’s taken care of, no thanks to
you.’ Oh that made me mad. I promptly told her that not all the arrows sticking
out of that damned giant were hers and she needed to learn to look before she
opened her mouth. I must’ve impressed her because she grinned at me before she
walked away. Ria followed her, but Farkas stayed behind. He told me not to
listen to Aela, and thought my shots were a great help and that I should join
the Companions. He also said that if I had the moxie to stand up to Aela like
that, I’d probably make a great addition.”
Talen Jei brought their meals to the table, along with their drinks. “Let me
know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Talen,” Balimund spoke up before turning his attention back to her.
“I remember you telling me about the celebration after you’d killed your first
dragon at Whiterun. I bet the Companions were more welcoming of you then.”
Aria shook her head, “Not all of them. Vilkas wasn’t. He and Farkas are twins,
but that is where the similarities end. Farkas is a big overgrown puppy. He’s
very enthusiastic about everything. And I’m definitely not marrying him for his
brains. Vilkas on the other hand is very intellectual, very knowledgeable on
many subjects. He’s fun to argue with, but he doesn’t like being wrong. We
argue a lot. He still calls me whelp even though I’m now the Harbinger.”
“Marriage, huh? Congratulations. It must be in the air,” he took a sip from the
bottle of ale, hoping he’d be able to swallow the lump forming in his throat.
He knew she had someone in her life. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she
was getting married.
Aria nodded. She could tell by the change in his expression that her glowing
report on Farkas wasn’t what he wanted to hear. She hadn’t wanted it to be this
way, but she supposed it was better than the invitation to her impending
nuptials with Farkas showing up on his doorstep. She wasn’t sure why she felt
she owed him an explanation. She knew she shouldn’t have been so forward the
last time she was here in Riften. Shouldn’t have led him on. Shouldn’t have
ever kissed him. That was wrong of her. From what she knew of him, he seemed
like such a good man. It made her wonder why he wasn’t already married to some
lucky woman. “So why haven’t you ever settled down?” She swore she’d poke and
prod at him for an answer until he gave her one.
He sighed, setting aside his knife and fork. “I could say I’ve never met anyone
that held my interest long enough to want to settle down with, but that’s not
entirely true.”
Aria formed her lips into a very provocative moue. “Sounds like that might be
quite the story. Care to share?”
He chuckled, his laugh low and sexy. It hit her in all the right places, making
her think of Farkas. He had a very similar laugh. “I could be persuaded, but
not here.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. She understood his meaning. There were too many
people around listening and it seemed like that tale was rather private. “I
could suggest once we are done with dinner that we go for a stroll by the
lake.”
He winked, knowing she’d understand. “I’d like that, though you might want to
bring a shawl with you. The wind coming off the lake can get chilly, especially
this time of year.”
Their conversation turned toward more neutral subjects. She spun tales of the
jobs she’d completed as a Companion and he entertained her with anecdotes about
events he’d seen while working the forge, or of pieces he’d crafted. He knew
his had to be quite dull in comparison to hers, but she listened just as raptly
as he had hers.
As she finished a particularly humorous tale involving Torvar and a goat, she
noted the redheaded thief she’d shouted into the wall had come into the inn.
She eyed him suspiciously. He wasn’t wearing the blue finery she’d seen him in
that day. No, he wore black leather armor. Guild armor, she surmised. She’d
seen thieves beyond Riften’s walls wearing brown leather armor of the same
make. She watched as he approached Keerava’s counter. She had the feeling he
was up to no-good, and wouldn’t stand for it.
His appearance wasn’t the only problem the Argonian couple faced. At the far
table against the wall, Talen Jei hissed at something Hemming Black-Briar had
just said. “Sorry Hemming, I've no interest in becoming your valet.”
She slid to the edge of her seat, ready to intervene if need be.
Hemming had the nerve to look unabashed as he replied, “What's the matter, I
thought you people were used to indentured servitude.”
This statement made Talen Jei hiss even louder and really put Aria on edge,
“Xhuth! Black-Briar or not, say that again and so help me you're going to need
more than your mother to protect you from me.”
“And what pray tell do you think you could do to him that I couldn’t protect
him from?” Maven snapped, her dark eyes flashing.
Aria pushed herself off her chair, striding over to stand beside Talen, “How
about me, you tired old whore?”
Maven’s eyes narrowed, “And just who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare,” Aria replied, letting the thu’um rumble through her
voice. The whole room shook with her power as she spoke, “Dreh ni fus dii bah!”
Whispers of ‘Dragonborn’ filled the room, as they all stared in awe at her.
Maven had the audacity to roll her eyes, “Do you have any idea who you’re
dealing with, girl? You don’t want to get on my bad side. If I so much as snap
my fingers, the Dark Brotherhood will be at my beck and call. You do not want
me as an enemy.”
Aria burst out laughing, “Oh please, I’m hardly afraid of the Brotherhood. In
fact, Astrid and her little band of assassins are dead. Goes to prove you don’t
want ME as an enemy. I wiped them out. All of them, painted the walls of their
little sanctuary red with their blood. I’m the Dragonborn. I can kill with my
voice alone. Care to test that? Ask your boy over there in the Guild armor. He
knows. Quite the headache I gave ya, right, Brynjolf?”
Brynjolf glared at her. He remembered all too well. Her shout had cracked his
skull and had left him bed-ridden for months. Aria glanced from him back to
Maven then to Keerava, who stood wringing her hands. It occurred to her what
was going on. Hemming had used his insult toward Talen Jei to cover up the
shakedown going on at Keerava’s counter. She stalked away from Talen toward
Keerava. She eyed the situation carefully. She noted the fierce look in the
Argonian’s eyes even as she clutched a handful of septims. A shakedown for
protection, perhaps? She wouldn’t allow it.
“What did he want, Keerava?” Aria asked, rather forcefully as the power of the
Voice still bled into her words.
“I hardly think this involves you, Dragonborn,” Brynjolf interrupted. “Keerava
accepted protection from the Guild long before you ever started coming around,
stirring up trouble. We’ve done our part. She knows she has to pay up.”
“If I were you, I’d scurry back into the Ratway like the vermin you are because
I’m here to tell you she doesn’t need your protection anymore. I’ll protect
her, free of charge. And if you think I won’t hesitate to march down into the
Ratway and exterminate all of you like I did the Brotherhood, then you just
keep pressing your luck because your turn is coming.” Aria replied as she
pulled a blade from inside the cuff of her thigh-high boot and laid it on the
counter.
He cocked an eyebrow. He recognized the dagger. It was Astrid’s Blade of Woe.
He knew he’d have to break the news to Delvin. “The Guild will have its due.
Just remember that.” He sauntered out as casually as he had come in.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Keerava spoke up, “You may have just painted a
bull’s-eye on all our backs. Not that I don’t appreciate it. Ever since the war
started, I’ve been barely keeping this rathole together. I’m lucky the storm we
had a while back only knocked a few shingles loose.”
Aria leaned in close, “Sounds like you need an investor. We can discuss it
later, if you think you’d be interested.”
Keerava nodded, not wanting to presume too much. The Dragonborn had been kind
to them, giving what she had already. “Enjoy your dinner and we’ll talk soon.”
Aria turned away from the counter, heading back to her table. She noticed Maven
and Hemming were gone as well. Good riddance to bad rubbish. She was surprised
Balimund was still at the table. He lived in this city. The last thing she
wanted was to involve him in her grudge against Maven and the Thieves Guild.
She hoped neither he nor his business would suffer any retaliation. He had
nothing to do with this. She took her seat, “I apologize for that display. I
just loathe seeing good people ripped off.”
He rubbed his jaw while eyeing her speculatively, “I knew the Guild had been
bleeding so-called protection money from several merchants for the past few
years now, but they’ve never troubled me. First one who tries will end up fed
to my forge.”
“I believe it,” she said then turned her attention back to her food.
Conversation thereafter had become sparse. She couldn’t help but wonder if that
was her fault. Or maybe she was over thinking things again. The food was
growing cold; best finish it before it became unpalatable.
Once finished, the two of them left the inn behind, heading passed the market
to the gate between the Keep and the orphanage. Aria had accepted his proffered
arm, looping hers through and allowing him to lead her toward the lake. They
leisurely strolled along the rough cobblestone lane, silent at first.
Soon though she coaxed him into an affable if not intimate conversation,
picking up where he’d been hesitant to go earlier. “I know I don’t know you as
well as I’d like to if things were different, but I can spot an amazing catch
when I see one. And you would make a wonderful husband and mate for any woman
so why is it you’ve remained uncaught?”
He slowed, leading her to a shady glen near the banks of Lake Honrich. Masser
peaked out from the clouds to sparkle upon the surface like liquid diamonds
while Secunda waned darkly. The air around them was calm and crisp, with a hint
of winter’s bite. His lips quirked, his gaze falling upon the remains of
Goldenglow Estate, while he gathered his thoughts, “There was someone once.
Nigh on twenty years ago, I was still an apprentice smith. Younger than Asbjorn
and horribly backwards. Ma had passed away when I was a young lad and Da never
remarried. He threw himself into his work. He was determined to make my brother
and me the best smiths in all of Skyrim, in all of Tamriel.” A fond look
crossed his face and he chuckled. “My brother and I were only a year apart, him
being younger. He ran off. He wasn’t much older than Kirsli, and we didn’t hear
from him for years. He still lives down in Hammerfell, runs a smithy. I tell
ya, it’s in the blood.”
“I’ve traveled all over Hammerfell. It’s a beautiful province. I really enjoyed
Stros M’Kai.” Aria laughed. “Pirates can be fun, but very dangerous.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting one,” he
chuckled. “Seems like you’ve been to many interesting places.”
“I have. Most of Tamriel, in fact. I’ve been to Morrowind, Valenwood, Elsweyr,
and Hammerfell, spent several years in Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Black Marsh. I
want to travel to Atmora and Akavir, eventually. Hopefully I’ll get to do so,
but who knows what the future holds. I’m the Dragonborn. The fate of the world
rests on my shoulders,” Aria sighed wearily, fully understanding the heavy
burden she carried. It wasn’t time to get lost in that, though, “But enough
about me. You are stalling.”
She didn’t miss a thing. He would rather listen to her adventures than have to
talk about himself, but she wouldn’t let him off that easy. “I can’t imagine
why my past interests you, but never let it be said I wouldn’t indulge a
beautiful lady,” he chuckled then rolled his shoulders. He watched as she tried
to suppress a shiver. “Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around her for warmth, chuckling into her ear, “Told you
that you should have brought a shawl. The lake does get rather chilly.”
“I’ll know next time, but this is nice.”
“So roughly twenty years ago, a family moved into the farmstead near ours. By
that point it was just Da and me. I watched him grow old before his time. The
healer told me when he died that his heart gave out, but I think it had been
broken since Ma passed. He was never the same person after that. This was years
before I ever settled here in Riften. The Jorgensen family was their name and
they had a daughter named Siv. She was the most stunning creature I’d ever laid
eyes upon. She was eighteen summers in age and had a radiant smile and copper
hair that fell to her waist in waves. Her eyes were green as clover. I turned
to jelly whenever she came around, which she did often. If their cow blessed
them with too much milk or their chickens produced too many eggs, she would
bring them over. I spent more time mooning over her than I did paying attention
to Da’s instructions at the forge,” Balimund laughed as the fond memories came
flooding back. “After a while, I grew out of the awkwardness around her and
looked forward to her company. I fell ass over teakettle in love and decided
she was going to be my wife. Da liked her. She was a fine cook, that’s what won
him over.”
“So what happened?”
He tightened his hold upon her and gingerly tickled her sides, causing her to
buck in his arms. “I’m getting there,” he chastised mirthfully. He gazed off
into the distance before glancing back toward Riften. His tone sobered, as did
his expression. He tried to keep it light and pretend it was in the past, but
the walk down memory lane stirred up things he thought long put to rest.
Balimund cleared his throat, his voice cracking as he began to speak again.
“Bandits happened. They attacked several homesteads, robbing and killing for
the sport of it. Siv and her whole family were dead by the time I made it their
place. Siv along with her mother and younger sister had all been raped before
they were killed. The nearest temple of Arkay was a couple days ride away, so I
buried them behind the burned out remains of the house. I was so angry for a
very long time after that. To the point where I hunted down the bandits seeking
revenge. Granted I wasn’t and to this day, I wouldn’t ever consider myself a
warrior. I can smith a fine sword, but as far as wielding one in combat, that’s
better left to your Companions. They all died by my hand and I felt like I had
avenged Siv and her family, but it wouldn’t bring them back. By the time I had
finally let go of all the rage, my Da passed and I decided it was time to move
on. So I ended up here in Riften, opened my shop, and adopted Asbjorn. Raising
and apprenticing him gave me something to focus my mind on. I could pass on the
skills that had been passed down through my family for generations. The years
just crept up on me and here we are now. That’s all there is to the tale.”
Aria sniffled, blinking back the tears. “I can see why you took Kirsli in.”
“I took her in because it was the right thing to do. I didn’t want to see her
mixed up with Brynjolf and his lot. She’s a good kid. She just needs positive
direction.”
Aria clucked her tongue, “I think there’s more to it than that. She’s a young
lady. You do her a great disservice if you’re treating her like a child. I
don’t know her, but if she’s anything like I was at that age, she’s probably
rebellious and headstrong. You have your hands full.” She pulled away and
looked up into his eyes. “I wonder if she would be amenable to attending a
finishing school. I could easily sponsor her to the one I attended in the
Imperial City.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “She’s talked about eventually going to the
College of Winterhold so she may be interested. I think it would be good for
her. She’s too smart to be wasting her life here in Riften. Perhaps we can talk
to her about it.”
“She’ll need a formal education if she’s interested in furthering her studies
in Magic. Plus the Imperial City is home to the Arcane University and the Mages
Guild. I took courses at the University.” Aria suggested.
The two left the lakeside glen and continued down the lane. She told him about
her schooling in Cyrodiil at Madame Aurelia’s School of Etiquette, and her time
at the University. She spoke her travels through the various provinces she’d
been to. And things that had happened since she had come to Skyrim.
Before the two knew it, they were near Heartwood Mill and a pair of wolves shot
out from the underbrush. She stepped in front of Balimund, calling upon the
power of the Voice, “Kaan Drem Ov.”
The wolves skidded to a halt and whined at her feet. Balimund watched,
mesmerized, as they rolled onto their backs and showed her their bellies. She
had proved she was the Alpha. She kneeled beside them, gave them both a good
rub and sent them on their way. “Those two won’t trouble us.”
He was in awe. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”
“Just be thankful we haven’t come across a dragon then,” she grinned. “I
shouldn’t say that. I don’t want to jinx things. It’s been a nice night.”
“It has been. It’s not every day that a simple blacksmith gets to watch his
date intimidate the Guild and then use the Voice to turn rabid wolves into
puppy dogs.”
Aria lightly smacked his muscled bicep, “Don’t give me that ‘simple blacksmith’
bullshit. What was the first thing you ever said to me? I remember. It was
‘Come to see Balimund work miracles with steel, eh?’ You, my good man, are a
master and I will personally kick the ass of anyone who says different.”
“Even the great Eorlund Gray-Mane, master of the Skyforge.”
“Even Eorlund. Oh, which reminds me…? I have some housecarls I’d love to
commission new armor for. Three, in fact. Would you be interested in forging
the armor for me?”
He came to a halt, staring down at her, “Of course I would. If you can bring
them in Riften, I can make the proper measurements. And I’ll need to know what
kind of armor they want. I’m guessing it’s something beyond simple steel.”
“Oh yes, ever work with dragon bone and dragon scale.” She grinned, “Of course,
I will supply the raw materials. My housecarl in Markarth, Argis, wants dragon
bone armor. My housecarl in Whiterun, Lydia, wants ebony. And my housecarl in
Solitude, Jordis, wants dragon scale.”
“Wow, dragon parts. Can’t say I have ever worked with it, but I’m always up for
a challenge. I’m honored you’d bring this to me, especially when you could
easily just commission it from Eorlund.”
“He actually doesn’t do commissions for non-Companions so I didn’t even bother
asking him. He’ll sell his wares, but custom work, no. Not even for me I bet.”
“That’s his loss and that’s why I aim to prove my work is the best in Skyrim,
even without the Skyforge,” he beamed proudly.
They crossed the bridge at Heartwood Mill and headed up the narrow dirt path
which would lead them past Faldar’s Tooth. Besides the wolves, there had been
no other problems during this after dinner stroll. He wasn’t looking forward to
dealing with the miscreants who called the Tooth their home.
“We might want to be careful up here. Further up is Faldar’s Tooth. It’s full
of bandits and thugs. They keep pit wolves. I caution Kirsli to stay away from
there,” he said. He had left the blade he usually carried at home. Not that
Aria needed his protection. She more than proved she could hold her own with
her shouts alone. Plus she was the Harbinger.
“It should be empty. I took care of them the other day on my way through. I
don’t hear or see anything out here besides us. You’re safe with me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation. Usually it was the
other way around. The man reassuring the helpless female that she was safe, but
he knew well that most women in Skyrim often fought alongside their men. It was
a point of pride. To be in the company of such a strong Nord woman was
exhilarating. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
She squeezed his bicep, testing the strength of his arm, “You are very strong.”
His laughter continued, “Flatterer.”
“I’m trying.” She hastened them passed Faldar’s Tooth, away from the stench of
death and decay. “I’m enjoying the company very much. It is so pleasant to have
an intelligent conversation without ending up in an argument.”
“Then why marry him? It doesn’t seem like you two have a whole lot in common.
You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would be satisfied with the dumb
fighter type for very long.” He knew he was asking a very personal question,
but couldn’t help it. Part of him just couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t
settling for something less than what she really wanted.
She pressed close, “Farkas makes up for it in other ways.”
“Will that be enough when both of you have aged? I know it isn’t my place to
question. You seem happy, but what happens in the future when these other ways
no longer satisfy?” It was a legitimate question. One she may not have thought
to ask. It was only because despite it all, he cared for her, even though she
only ever been around him twice.
Aria licked her lips. There was so much she couldn’t explain. So many secrets
she couldn’t divulge. “Let’s just say it goes further than physical. We are
bonded, mated. We knew from the moment we met. It took us a while to fully
admit it. To ourselves. To each other. To the rest of the Circle. A bonding
like ours is not encouraged amongst the Companions. It’s frowned upon. It’s one
of the reasons Vilkas and I are at odds with each other. That’s all I can tell
you.”
He nodded. “You are luckier than most. We should probably head back to town. I
see the Llanith Farm up ahead.”
Silence fell between them as they made their back to the city gates. He then
escorted her back to the inn. “You should come to dinner tomorrow night. Kirsli
said something about a new recipe she wanted to try out.” He rested his hands
upon her bare shoulders, leaned in, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I’d like that.” She smiled.
“Let’s say 6-ish,” he said.
“Sounds good and thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time.” She planted a
kiss of her own on his cheek and headed for the doors of the inn. “I’ll see you
tomorrow.”
He watched as she headed in, enjoying the view despite knowing she’d never be
his then walked the short distance to his home. He noticed right away the door
was slightly ajar. He pulled it open, his heart pounding as hard as his hammer
against the anvil and peered inside.
The main room was in complete disarray. Furniture had been overturned. The
contents of the cupboard strewn across the floor. His bedroom was in shambles.
The bedclothes shredded and the armoire emptied. The safe door stood wide open.
He ran into the basement, searching for Kirsli but she was missing.
Rage boiled within his blood, pumping through his veins like that beating of a
thousand dragon wings. He ran out of the house, bellowing as loud as he could.
“KIRSLI!”
Someone would pay for this and he had a good idea who to begin with.
~*~
***** Paying Dues *****
Chapter Summary
     The Guild will have its due.
Chapter Notes
     Long Chapter!!!!! This one is EPIC!!!
     There are new characters make an appearance in this chapter and there
     are new tags as well. This story is growing!
     THANK YOU to a very close friend who helped me out with this one. And
     for all the hand holding and encouragement. I don't think this fic
     would have made it without you.
     And THANK YOU to everyone so far who have lurked, read, left kudos,
     reviews, and who are following this story. You are all AWESOME!!!!!
     And lastly, thank you for hanging in there with me. This is supposed
     to be a romance and there hasn't been a whole lot of that as of yet.
     I've never written a slow burn before. I'm more used to writing pwp's
     ... lol... but there is a bit of fluff in this chapter at the end. I
     promise the romance will come though and it will be worth the wait.
Earlier that evening-
Kirsli left Honorhall bubbling with joy. She had a new recipe and a plan. She’d
spent a good bit of her visit at the orphanage behind closed doors with
Constance having a serious girl talk. She sorely needed advice and Constance
was the only woman she could turn to for it, without being judged. Constance
had listened whole-heartedly, letting Kirsli express her feelings, and offered
her honest opinion. Constance could see Kirsli’s feelings were true and not
based off gratitude, but in her heart she also knew her chances of being taken
seriously due to her young age were slim and that made Constance ache for her
over the hand Kirsli had been dealt. To have fallen for a much older honorable
man, she could see no end to the heartache.
Kirsli headed for Marise’s food stand, purchasing the items she knew she didn’t
have in the pantry to make the recipe. This would be wonderful and she knew
Balimund would love it. She planned on dressing in something nice because she
wanted to look pretty. Then during dinner she would broach the subject of the
party. She knew he wouldn’t ask her so she would have to ask him. She just
hoped her she’d be able to persuade him. She knew she had a rebuttal to almost
any objection he could come up with. To top it off after he finished eating,
she planned treating him with a very nice shoulder rub. She knew how very hard
he worked. She knew how sore his long work day made him feel. She would help in
any way she could.
Her brow furrowed when she walked past the forge and noticed he wasn’t there.
It was too early for him to quit for the day. Maybe he was taking a break,
waiting for her to make dinner. If he was inside, hovering around, it might
ruin her plans. She may have to shoo him back to the forge for a while. But it
would be nice if she could get convince him to close shop early and change out
of his work clothes. He looked so nice when she had seen him in just a regular
tunic and trousers.
Just as she reached for the door, it swung open and Balimund stepped out. She
blinked, looking him up and down. He was rather dressed up. She bit her lower
lip worriedly for a second as a red flag went off in her head. This wasn’t
looking good. Only one way to find out, “Balimund, I have a new recipe I want
to try out. Oh, are you going somewhere?”
He flashed a warm smile at her, “Yes, to the Bee and Barb for dinner. So how
about you try out your recipe tomorrow night?”
Her heart sank. A lump formed in her throat and tears stung her eyelids. He was
going without her. He didn’t even invite her. “Oh okay. I’ll just rummage
around for something. You have a nice time.”
He ruffled her hair and walked away, whistling a tavern song. She watched him
walk all the way over to the inn, admiring how he looked in the maroon outfit.
Her eyes devoured him and she sighed. She wished he would get dressed up that
way for her, but he hadn’t. It begged the question, though. Who was he having
dinner with that he’d clean up that much for?
Only once he was out of view did she enter the house. Kirsli set her basket
down on the table, mulling it all over in her head. He had to be meeting
someone, but whom? She had to know. She knew his habits well enough to know he
just didn’t dress up in fine clothes and go to the inn for dinner for no
reason. She knew it wouldn’t be Haelga. She dismissed the owner of the
Bunkhouse immediately. Grelka had been known to make cow eyes at him once in a
while. And the Dunmer food vendor Marise had eyed him favorably from time to
time. She had even overheard her ask Dinya if Mara blessed couples of mixed
races once before. Well, Marise had better not be getting any ideas. There was
also Svana, Haelga’s niece. Svana was a very attractive young woman who worked
in the Bunkhouse and it was rumored she had been having an affair with Sibbi
Black-Briar before he ended up serving time in jail for the murder of his
fiancée’s brother.
Stop it, Kirsli chastised herself. She’d drive herself crazy if she continued
on this path. If anyone could hear her thoughts then they would surely think
her obsessed with him. She wasn’t, not really. She’d just never felt like this
about anyone else.
After kicking herself one last time, forcing herself to snap out of it, she
fixed herself a baked potato and a chicken breast then headed for the basement.
She emptied the water from the tub and stowed it away.
On her way back up to the main room, she spotted a large earthenware crock
sitting on a table near the door. That hadn’t been there earlier. Her
suspicions rose as she picked it up and peaked inside. It was still warm and
the residue inside was from fire salts.
No! No! No! No! No!
Damn! She paced back and forth. Could he be with her? Damn! Damn!
Damn it!
That did it! She really had to know!
~*~
She steeled herself, working up the courage to go over to the Bee and Barb. She
knew she being childish about this. Just do it, she scolded herself as she
paced back and forth in front of the door. You’ll never know unless you go. She
marched over to the cupboard, grabbing the bottle of brandy Balimund kept
stored on the top shelf. She pulled the cork and drank a swig. It burned as it
went down. But this was what she needed. Liquid courage. She needed all the
help she could get. This was stupid, she chided. Pull up your big girl pants
and go. She took another draw off the bottle, feeling it warm her insides.
Putting the bottle back where she found it, she marched out of the house and
made her way to the Bee and Barb. Though the brandy made her head feel fuzzy,
she knew it wouldn’t be a good thing if she just marched right in there. She
had to be sneaky. Yes, sneak a peek from the door. She didn’t want Balimund to
know she was spying on him.
She reached the door nearest to the market and cracked it open a bit. There
seemed to be a commotion going on. The whole place shook, the door threatened
to rattle off its hinges, nearly slipping from her grip. She poked her head in,
quickly glancing around the room. Balimund was seated with his back to her, his
arms crossed. All eyes were on the blonde woman standing near Maven Black-
Briar.
By the Divines, no! NO! Kirsli fought back a sob as her worst fears were
realized. It was that woman. The one who had promised Balimund the fire salts
but hadn’t delivered them… It hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t
delivered them until now. The woman who was known as the Dragonborn. She was
back in Riften and had convinced Balimund to go to dinner with her. Damn her!
Damn him! Damn them both!
Kirsli left the door ajar as she ran back home, tears streaming down her face.
Once inside she shut the door behind her, leaning against it. She screamed,
tasting salty tears. Damn him! How could he? He knew how she felt and it didn’t
matter to him. Yet a woman he barely knew came around, making promises and had
him wrapped around her little finger. She remembered back to that day. Kirsli
had seen him kiss that woman before she had interrupted them.
“He should be kissing me,” Kirsli screamed to the empty room and pushed away
from the door. She grabbed the empty crock and threw it at the wall, a
satisfied rush coursing through her as it shattered. She screamed again,
screamed out all the rage she felt over that woman sniffing around where she
wasn’t wanted as she marched forward and kicked over a chair. Then she grabbed
his chair, tossing it aside. She upended the small end table, watching as the
vase of flowers and the book she’d been reading fell to the floor. The vase
broke, spilling water everywhere.
Water soaked into her shoes, making her toes cold. This sobered her. “What have
I done?” Kirsli whispered as she glanced around at the wreckage she’d wrought.
A sob escaped her. "Mara, Dibella, Kynareth. Divines help me. Don’t make him
hate me!"
Kirsli ran for the door. She needed to think. She needed to talk to someone.
Constance. She headed for Honorhall. She ran blindly, her feet knew the way. On
the narrow bridge that crossed the canal, a hand reached out to stop her
grabbing her by the elbow.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, lass?”
Kirsli recognized that smooth voice. Pushing her hair out of her face, she
turned red eyes and tear stained cheeks upon him. “Leave me alone!” She pulled
away from him and reached for her dagger.
“There’s no need for weapons, lass. I’m not going to hurt you.” He gently
touched her face, wiping away the tears. “It’s a shame to see tears on such a
lovely face and know who put them there.”
Kirsli took a few steps away. “You know nothing about me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, lass. You see, I can help you. That woman stands in
your way of what you want, doesn’t she? Come with me, help me and I’ll see that
your every dream comes true. What do you say?”
An audacious glare crossed her face followed by a smile. She knew his game and
she wasn’t that stupid. She quickly slipped her dagger back into its sheath and
offered her hand to him as if to shake his. Just as he reached for it, she
brought her other hand up, slapping him hard across the face. “Go to hell, you
fucking bastard!”
She scrambled away from him, running as fast as her legs could carry her to
Honorhall and yanked the door open. “Constance, Asbjorn, help me! The Guild is
after me!” She bellowed as she slammed the door closed.
~*~
Maven marched into the Ragged Flagon, fire in her eyes and purpose in her step.
Her watchdog, Maul obediently trotted along behind her. “Where’s Brynjolf?” She
called out forcefully.
Delvin looked up from his usual table as Vekel rushed behind the bar to get
Maven a drink. He brought her a bottle of her Meadery’s finest, Black-Briar
Private Reserve. She turned a baleful eye upon him, “Did I ask for that?” Then
she swatted it out of his grasp.
The barkeep hastened to clean up the mess she had made as all focused on the
angry Maven. Tonilia and Vex glared while Delvin rubbed his jaw, considering
his response very carefully. “He came in a few moments ago. He said he had to
speak to Mercer about the deadbeats.”
“Get him out here! No, get BOTH of them out here! NOW!” Maven demanded.
Delvin nodded and headed for the Cistern. As soon as he was out of earshot, he
breathed a sigh of relief. Someone had pissed off their biggest supporter and
he wouldn’t want to be in that person’s shoes when Maven extracted her revenge.
They had already been reeling from the heavy damage to the Meadery, the loss of
Goldenglow, Black-Briar Manor and her Lodge. Maven had been putting tremendous
pressure on them to produce results. The Breton thief knew she wouldn’t accept
much more in the way of excuses and failure from them before she withdrew her
support and pulled up stakes, moving to more profitable pastures.
He crossed over into the Cistern, heading for Guild Master’s desk, where
Brynjolf and Mercer stood arguing.
“I don’t care what it takes, Brynjolf! Get it done!” Mercer growled as he
hunkered over a ledger, his head cocked angrily at his second-in-command.
Brynjolf rubbed his face wearily, knowing just what... rather who they faced.
He raised his arms, spreading them wide at shoulder level, “And just what do
you suggest when it comes to that woman? I’d relish putting her head on a pike,
but I’d rather not spend another couple months bed-ridden.”
“Did I stutter? Do I have to do everything for you? Think of something. Even
someone like her has a weakness. Target her friends, her family.”
Brynjolf gave a mirthless laugh, “Brilliant, Mercer. Go after the Companions.
We tried that, remember? Arnbjorn gave Delvin information we could pass onto
the Silver Hand, but the Companions wiped them out and she’s their Harbinger
now. She claimed she wiped out the Brotherhood. She showed me Astrid’s Blade of
Woe.”
A loud gasp came from behind them. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the source.
“What do you want, Delvin? Shouldn’t you be getting drunk and pining for Vex?
Or have you decided to make yourself useful?” Mercer growled belligerently.
Delvin frowned, biting his tongue. It wouldn’t do him any good to get on
Mercer’s bad side. “Maven’s here. She’s asking for you.”
Mercer turned his steely eyes to his second, “Take care of Maven.” He didn’t
want nor need to deal with her shit right now.
Delvin clucked his tongue, “Sorry, boss. She demanded both of you.” Then he
turned, walking away quickly. He didn’t want to be the recipient of Mercer’s
wrath. Everyone knew Mercer hadn’t wanted to deal with Maven recently. He had
delegated their dealings with her to Brynjolf since his second had recovered.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Brynjolf followed Mercer into the Ragged Flagon where Maven stood with Maul and
Dirge. Maven turned her scathing gaze upon the Guild Master. “It’s about time
you got here. I have better things to do with my time than waste it in this
garbage heap.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Maven?” Mercer sneered with a
tone dripping with insolence.
The Black-Briar matriarch glared at him then turned her gaze upon Brynjolf.
“What are you going to do about that woman? Are we not in control of Riften?
Are you going to let an outsider waltz in here and make threats? I, for one,
will not stand for it. I want to know if her claims are true. Astrid hasn’t
responded to my last missive. Send someone to Falkreath.”
Brynjolf crossed his arms, “Mercer and I were just discussing this, Maven. I’ll
send Thrynn to their sanctuary. In the meantime, she and the Companions may not
be so untouchable. Thanks to Arnbjorn, we know their secrets. We could drop an
anonymous missive to the Vigilants of Stendarr. Or didn’t you say there’s been
activity in Dayspring Canyon? Fort Dawnguard? We can also target the people she
cares about. I found out she owns a house in Whiterun, Markarth and Solitude.
According to some friends of the guild, she’s been made Thane of the Jarl in
each of those cities. She’ll have a housecarl. Plus did you notice who she was
dining with this evening?”
“The blacksmith,” A satisfied smirk crossed Maven’s face. She turned to Maul.
“I want you and your brother to pay him a visit. Teach him what it means to
hold out on the Guild. If the stubborn oaf refuses, put the thumbscrews on him
and hit him... hard.”
Maul grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Happily, and I’ll be teaching my
little ragamuffin a lesson.”
“Get the message across that the Guild will always get its due,” Brynjolf
replied. “Just don’t kill anyone. Dumping bodies and paying off guards is
expensive, even with them in Maven’s pocket.”
“He’ll pay up, if he knows what’s good for him,” Dirge punched a cupped hand.
Maul nodded, “I’ve been looking forward to this. I’ll teach him to not touch
what isn’t his.”
Maven scoffed, “Stop thinking with what’s between your legs, stupid. Now
begone!”
She watched as Maul and Dirge exited the Flagon before turning back to Mercer
and Brynjolf. “There’s one more thing. I want the money collected from Keerava.
Didn’t Talen-Jei tell you about the family she has in Morrowind. Threaten them.
Or better yet, tell her if she doesn’t pay we’ll make her a widow before she
even gets married. Send Dirge when he gets back from the blacksmith’s place. I
imagine Maul will be busy with that wretched little orphan.”
Brynjolf’s lips quirked, his green eyes flashing, “I doubt it. I caught her on
my way back down here earlier. I had hoped to convince her to come with me, but
she ran off to Honorhall. She’s not happy with the Dragonborn being here
either.”
“Has your silver tongue turned to rust? If you can’t handle an urchin, what use
are you to me?” Maven snapped haughtily. “This had better produce results.
Failure is no longer an option! I will no longer support a beggar’s guild.”
Then she stormed out.
~*~
The market was quiet, not a sole in sight as Maul and Dirge crossed it. It made
Maul wonder whether or not Maven had something to do with it. When they arrived
at The Scorched Hammer, Maul yanked the door open, laughing loudly at the folly
of it not being locked. What fool didn’t lock their door in Riften!
He stormed in, noticing the wreckage spread out before him. Dirge stepped in
behind him, frowning. “Did someone beat us to the punch?”
Maul sneered, “Check downstairs. If you find the girl, let me know.” He watched
as Dirge disappeared before he started rifling through the cupboard, tossing
fresh food to the floor, emptying it completely. He pocketed the bottle of
brandy. The iron-pounder had good taste in spirits.
Dirge came back upstairs, “I found a bed with women’s clothes on it. No sign of
your little piece of ass. There was also strong box with a shitty lock a novice
could pick. It had some coin and nice gems in it. I’ll take it to Brynjolf.”
“Take that room over there and I’ll check this one over here,” Maul growled at
his brother, wondering where Kirsli was. She had to be here somewhere. When he
found her… the things he’d do to her. That fucking iron-pounder wouldn’t want
her once Maul was through with her. No one would. She wouldn’t even be fit the
join the whores in the Ratway.
Dirge poked his head into the dark room, Asbjorn’s old room. It hadn’t seen
much use since Asbjorn spent most of his time at Honorhall. Kirsli had plans to
move into it, but decided it would be best to wait until after Asbjorn and
Constance got married. She didn’t want to presume too much too soon.
The bed was neatly made and the dresser devoid of its contents except for some
dust and lint. “This one’s empty.” Dirge called out. “I bet this one belonged
to that boy of his. The one who shacked up with that ugly bitch at the
orphanage.”
Maul frowned as he entered Balimund’s room. The grey tunic and heavy apron lay
upon the double bed along with smallclothes and other articles of clothing. His
eyes narrowed. He rummaged through them, searching for anything that belonged
to his little ragamuffin. He turned to the tall armoire that stood to the left
to the bed and yanked open its doors. Within were various tunics, but what drew
his eye was a very nice green and gold party dress. He hissed in rage, yanking
it out. Holding it up, he looked it over. It seemed to be her size. That little
bitch…spreading her legs for this fucking old man. He’d teach them both a
lesson they’d never forget. He’d bide his time. Eventually he’d get his hands
on her again and when he did… she was in for a world of pain.
The dress disintegrated in his hands as he tore it to pieces and tossed it to
the floor. Then he tore everything out of the armoire. He drew his knife,
stabbing at the bedding, ripping it shreds. Then he grabbed the lone chair and
smashed it against the wall, throwing the pieces to the floor. The chamber pot
came next, smashed and trampled.
He tore everything out of the dresser, stealing a very nice greatsword that
rested atop the armoire. Then he set his sights on the safe on the floor beside
the dresser. It took him a while, but eventually he was able to get it open and
cleaned everything out it. This would please Brynjolf immensely. The coin in
here would go a long way to satisfy the Guild.
Maul left the room behind and pinned a look on Dirge, “The bitch isn’t here,
but I will send a message to them both. Let’s finish wrecking this place then
let’s get out of here. Leave nothing untouched.”
Dirge grinned. He was only too happy to oblige.
The two man wrecking crew headed for the basement, smashing everything.
Kirsli’s bed was ruined just as Balimund’s had been. Her clothes torn to
shreds. The tanning rack and grindstone destroyed.
Lastly a note was left in the business ledger. “The Guild will have its due.”
Only then did Maul and Dirge exit the house, leaving the door open. Maul didn’t
care who knew the place had been hit. Let it be a lesson to anyone who thought
they were above notice of the Guild.
No one was untouchable.
~*~
Constance rushed to intercept a frantic Kirsli just as she rushed forward,
throwing her arms around and burying her face in the crook of the older woman’s
neck. She sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out all her heartache. Constance held
her tightly, stroking her hair and back, comforting her. She knew what Kirsli
was going through and wished she could ease her pain. She had been there once
upon a time. To be in love with someone and not have that love reciprocated. It
was a bitter pill to swallow. Only she hadn’t been as young as Kirsli.
She let Kirsli cry until the tears dried up then wiped them away. Then she
washed Kirsli’s face and directed her toward her private bedchamber where they
could talk about it. This time Asbjorn followed. He was just as concerned about
her and wanted to help.
Constance handed Kirsli a handkerchief and sat her down, her eyes full of
sympathy, “Tell me what happened, sweetie. What has you so upset and why is the
Guild after you?”
“Brynjolf tried to nab me,” she muttered, sniffling pathetically while staring
down at her feet.
“Brynjolf? Why? Where was Balimund?” Asbjorn asked.
Kirsli snapped her head up, glaring at him. The instant change in her at the
mention of his adoptive father’s name told him something wasn’t right and he
knew then Kirsli had to be up to her shenanigans again. “Kirsli, what happened?
And just what ‘advice’ did you give her earlier?”
Kirsli tried to look innocent, but knew she had failed. “It’s not as bad as you
think. I had a new recipe. I was going to fix a special dinner and … Well I was
going to convince Balimund to be my date for Keerava and Talen-Jei’s engagement
party. But then she showed up and had to ruin things.” Kirsli let out a ‘pffft’
noise and crossed her arms defensively.
Asbjorn’s brow furrowed, “She who?”
“That damned Dragonborn bitch.” Kirsli hissed, angry tears gathering once more.
“She ruined my plans. She brought fire salts and he went to the Bee and Barb to
have dinner with her. I got mad, but it’s stupid that I’m mad so I came here
but first I ran into Brynjolf who said if I helped them, he’d help me get what
I wanted. I told him to leave me alone and I ran here.”
A sorrowful look crossed Constance’s face and she wrapped her arms around
Kirsli once more. “I am sorry that it didn’t work out like you planned,
sweetie. You knew this was a possibility, though.”
Kirsli shook her head, “I could have countered any argument, but that woman
showing back up… I wasn’t prepared for that.”
Asbjorn looked her straight in the eye. “Kirsli, you know I care about you more
than just about anything or anyone, but don’t you think you’re setting yourself
up for unnecessary heartache? I don’t see this romance you envision ever
happening between you and Balimund. Maybe you should set your sights on someone
closer to your own age.”
Constance smacked his arm as hard as she could, “Insensitive much? Why not kick
her a little harder while she’s down?”
Asbjorn rubbed the place she hit gingerly. It stung, but he knew he deserved
when he saw the look on Kirsli’s face, saw the tears welling up in her eyes
again. “I know it hurts to hear me of all people say that, Kirs, but it’s only
because I care for you and don’t want to see you waste your life on this. The
old man has said it’s never going to happen. He’s old enough to be your father.
Hell, he raised me.”
More tears spilled down her cheeks. Why was he being so cruel? He should be
supportive. “He’s not my father. Gods damn it! Stop treating me like a child!
I’m not a fucking child! I lived on my own for months! I got by on my own for
months! I did what I had to do to survive for fucking months when nobody gave
me a damn thing. I worked my ass off for it. I think that makes me an adult,
regardless of my age.”
“And I know that, Kirsli. You are certainly more mature than most of the so-
called adults here in town. I just think you’ve set yourself up for a never-
ending heartache. Truth be told, and hopefully I won’t get smacked again, if I
hadn’t been so head over heels in love with Constance when you moved into the
Scorched Hammer, I may have tried to court you. I’m only 9 summers older than
you. So not as big of an age gap and you are a beautiful young woman.” He
clenched his muscles, preparing for the strike from Constance he knew would be
coming.
“It’s a good thing you put the head over heels disclaimer on that comment. You
would’ve gotten slapped.” Constance chuckled. She knew Asbjorn was trying to
make Kirsli feel better; maybe even take her mind off this.
“I shouldn’t say this. Shouldn’t offer any false hope, especially after what I
said earlier. It was wrong of me to have said that and I apologize for it. I’ve
noticed there are times when Balimund thinks no one’s watching that I’ve have
caught him watching you, staring at you with this mesmerized look, like no one
else in the world exists but you. We men do that, so you can’t say a thing. And
if you do, I will explicitly deny it. I think if you were a few summers older,
the age difference wouldn’t be a problem,” Asbjorn offered, knowing he’d most
likely be scolded for it.
And he was. Constance gave him that look. Kirsli was hurting bad enough. There
was no need for false hope. She wasn’t a few years older. She was still sixteen
summers, though she would say three months shy of seventeen. Age was just a
number. She had been through more in her young life than most experienced in
the entire lives. It was what made her so mature.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Kirsli turned pleading eyes upon Constance. “I need
time to think. And maybe it’d be best if Balimund didn’t know I was angry and
jealous because of her.”
Constance hugged her, “Of course you can. I will always be here for you,
Kirsli. You can use my old room.”
“Thank you, both of you. I appreciate you both.” Kirsli hugged them tightly
before heading toward the room Constance used to sleep in when Grelod was the
headmistress here. She removed her shoes and curled up in the bed, pulling the
warm furs over her.
She didn’t know how she’d explain the knocked over chairs in the main room.
Would he believe it if she claimed the guild was after her? No, she knew it
would be wrong to lie to him. Not after she’d thrown a tantrum like a brat. She
didn’t think she’d hurt anything. The chairs and table would need to be picked
up. She’d have to clean up the broken vase. She would tell the truth and face
the consequences. If he got mad at her, she’d accept it. If he tossed her out,
she knew Constance would take her in. She knew Constance needed a helper
besides Asbjorn, who still worked at the Scorched Hammer. She could work here.
She already helped out. But she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. No, it wouldn’t
come to that.
She closed her eyes, praying to Mara that her fondest wish would come true.
~*~
“KIRSLI!” Balimund bellowed as loudly as he could as he stormed out of the
ravaged interior of his home and business. There was no doubt in his mind who
was responsible for this. It was a Guild hit.
Rage coursed through him as he ran to the Bee and Barb, desperately hoping
someone had seen Kirsli. It worried him that she wasn’t in the house and what
might have been done to her. Who might have put their hands on her? His jaw
clenched tighter and he jerked the door open. He stormed in, his face an angry
visage.
The wreckage before him was bad, but didn’t come close to what had been done to
his own place. At least they hadn’t touched his forge, though. His gaze fell
upon Keerava, Talen-Jei and Aria. “Have either of you seen Kirsli?” He
demanded, stalking toward them. As he neared them, he noticed the slab of meat
Talen held over his eye, suggesting whoever did this had roughed the Argonian
up.
“This is all my fault.” Aria shook her head regretfully. “I shouldn’t have said
a thing. I should’ve kept my nose out of it.”
Talen looked up at her exasperatedly, “Someone should stand up to those
thieving bastards. Don’t you dare apologize!”
Keerava placed her hands on her hips, “What’s wrong, Balimund?”
He stopped for a moment, tried to gather his emotions before speaking and
leveled very angry eyes upon the three people before him. “The Guild hit my
place, too, and Kirsli is missing. Have either of you seen her?”
“No, she hasn’t been in here,” Keerava replied.
Balimund growled menacingly, “Damn it! Who did this?”
Talen removed the beef steak from his face, revealing a fully swollen eye.
“Maven’s thugs, Maul and his brother, Dirge,” he replied.
“Maul?! Talos help that bastard if he’s touched one hair on Kirsli’s head.
He’ll beg for death long before I grant it to him.” He turned to leave,
storming out as angrily as he had come in.
Aria followed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Just what do you do plan on doing?”
she asked. “You can’t just charge off half-cocked after him. You have to think
first. Are you going take on the entire Guild… alone? You could at least let me
help.”
He glared at her, “You’ve helped enough.”
Aria let a bitter laugh slip from her lips, “Oh, that’s rich. Earlier you damn
near applauded me for helping people.”
“Kirsli wasn’t missing earlier. If you haven’t noticed, I’m more than a little
fucking pissed. When I know she’s safe, I may think differently.”
Aria pursed her lips. He was acting very peculiar. So far everything she’d seen
suggested he treated the young woman like a daughter, but his current behavior
made her think there was more to it, especially since he’d told her about his
past. The physical similarities between the two females were uncanny. Both
redheaded, green eyed (though Kirsli had one blue eye) and very pretty. It was
more than just a coincidence. “That’s your prerogative. I can’t stop you, but
let me go with you.”
He stared her down, knowing she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Help me find
Kirsli, then we can deal with the Guild.”
“And if the Guild… this Maul… has her?”
“I kill the bastard.” Balimund fumed.
Aria shook her head, “And then what? You know where that leads. You know that
won’t solve anything. It’ll only make it worse.”
He pushed her against the rough hewn wall of the inn, “Just who do you think
you are? What do you expect me to do? Bend over, spread my cheeks and take it…
from the likes of them? I’ve lived here for many years and never have I been
troubled by the guild. You come along, stirring up trouble and they ransack my
house and rob me blind and you want to tell me where that leads. Oh, I know. I
know better than you ever will, sweetheart.”
He pulled away, his shoulders squared, his back stiff as he marched over to his
forge. He knelt before the workbench and pulled a key from his pocket, using it
in the lock box. From within he pulled the sword he usually carried, strapping
on the belt.
Aria joined him. She wanted to see the mess that had been made of his house.
Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She entered the building, gasping
at the sheer destruction. This was worse than the Bee and Barb. Everything was
smashed, broken, or useless. No wonder he was so angry. And she knew she was to
blame. She would make this up to him, but Kirsli came first.
She exited the house, finding Balimund leaning against the stone wall that
surrounded the market. Besides his sword, he had an ebony war axe on his belt
as well. He held in his hands a length of chain and a sturdy lock. He threaded
the chain through the handles of the door then affixed the lock, securing it
tight until he could deal with it later. For tonight he’d stay at the Bee and
Barb, if they had any rooms available. If not, he’d open the house back up and
see what he could salvage.
“If that cretin didn’t drag her off, where would she go?” Aria asked, trying to
get an idea of Kirsli’s habits.
“The only place I can think of would be Honorhall. Constance and Asbjorn are
there.” Balimund said as they made their way through the marketplace.
“Would you like to check there first or are you hell bent on charging into the
Ratway?” Aria asked. “Where would that cretin take her to if he had her?”
“Maul works for Maven, but as you can see, Maven’s new manor house is still
under construction. The Black-Briar family is a guest of Jarl Laila at the
keep, but I doubt that includes Maul so I’d either guess the Meadery or the
Ratway. I’d say he’d take her into the Ratway. Lots of places to hide down
there.” Balimund replied. He hoped she’d gotten away. He hoped she was at
Honorhall. He couldn’t…couldn’t bear the thought of Maul hurting her again.
“Let’s check Honorhall first. It’s right over here. The stairs leading down
into the canal and into the Ratway are beside it.”
~*~
At the Orphanage he knocked on the door loudly several times. He figured
Constance and Asbjorn had already retired for the night, but hoped his knocking
would wake them. After a while, the door cracked, “Can’t it wait until morning.
The orphanage is closed.”
“Asbjorn,” Balimund spoke up, “Have you seen Kirsli? Maul and his fucking
brother ransacked the shop and she’s missing.”
Asbjorn opened the door wider, “What?! No, Kirsli’s here. She has been all
evening. Come on in… Maul did what now?”
Balimund entered the orphanage, taking a seat on one of the benches in the
foyer, “Just what I said. Maul and his brother ransacked the shop. Tore the
house and everything in it to shreds, cleaned out the safe and I don’t even
know what else… I haven’t made a thorough check. I was far too pissed and far
too worried he’d gotten his hands on Kirsli.” He ran a hand over his face.
Relief flooded him. It was one less thing on his mind.
“She’s sleeping. She mentioned you had gone to the Bee and Barb for dinner, and
didn’t want to be in the house by herself. She and Constance spent the evening
chit-chatting or whatever women do,” Asbjorn rolled his eyes nonchalantly.
“For the love of Talos, I am glad she wasn’t there. They hit the Bee and Barb,
too. They beat up poor Talen and wrecked it too.”
“Why?”
“Extracting ‘protection money’ or so they said. Brynjolf came in while Aria and
I were dining. That’s how all this nonsense began. Aria stopped that shakedown
and apparently the guild didn’t take too kindly to it, so they struck back. The
Guild will have its due, they said,” the blacksmith scoffed. “I can see Maven’s
hand in this. Aria threatened her too.”
Asbjorn looked around, “I thought she came in with you.”
Balimund glanced at the door, swearing under his breath. “She may be the
Dragonborn, but her vendetta against the Guild just may destroy the whole town.
There’s a whole lot of crazy in the woman, and damn if I’m not a fool for
realizing it too late.”
“You know what Kirsli would say, don’t you?” Asbjorn reminded Balimund, his
eyes alight with mirth.
Balimund returned a scowl, “Of course I do. That girl is too smart for her own
damn good.”
“Uh-huh, so do you need a bed for the night? We can put you up here.” Asbjorn
offered.
“No, I’ll be fine, boy. Don’t fuss over me. I would like to check in on Kirsli,
though. Where’s she sleeping?”
Asbjorn showed him to the room, “Let me know if you want my help cleaning up
the shop. You know I’ll help.”
Balimund nodded before opening the door. A candle flickered dimly on the
dresser. It silhouetted her sleeping form. He knelt beside the bed, breathing
out another sigh of relief now that he’d laid eyes upon her. He leaned over the
fur covered straw mattress, resting his forehead against it, and reached out to
caress her arm, gingerly running his fingertips down to her hand. He knew he
shouldn’t. Shouldn’t touch her. It was wrong. So damn wrong.
She rolled from her side and sat up, a startled gasp on her lips. Quickly he
reassured her it was alright, that he needed to know she was alright. A puzzled
look crossed her sleepy features. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed,
caressing her cheek softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep and
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you headed home? I’ll come with you.”
He shook his head. “The Guild hit the house earlier. It’s a mess. I’m thankful
you weren’t there. I’m staying at the Bee and Barb tonight. You should stay
here. It’ll be safer.”
“No, I want to go with you. Please,” she begged, her eyes pleading.
He sighed, knowing she’d follow him if he told her no. That could lead to more
trouble. She could be caught by Maul or his brother or any of the Guild members
and he didn’t want that. He knew he should just be firm with her, ordering her
to stay, but he gave in any way. He nodded, “Come on, Kirs.”
She flashed that satisfied grin she always had when she got her way, and
scurried out of bed. She slipped her shoes on and followed him out, leaving
Honorhall behind.
The city was quiet and the market empty. He escorted her to the inn. The common
room was quiet inside. Talen-Jei had piled the broken remains of chairs
together and had righted the knocked over tables. “Talen, do you have a couple
rooms available for the night?” Balimund asked.
The Argonian looked up, shaking his head. “I have one left, Balimund. It has a
double bed. You’ll have to share.”
He sighed deeply. He was afraid of this, but he knew he’d never convince Kirsli
to go back to the orphanage. “I’ll take it.” Then he handed Talen enough
septims to cover the room.
“Keep your money, Balimund. This one’s on the house.” Talen handed it back. “I
insist. I’m glad you found Kirsli.”
The blacksmith frowned, but knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Talen out of this
so he said nothing.
Kirsli sleepily smiled and yawned, “I wasn’t missing. I was at Honorhall with
Constance.”
Talen nodded, “Let me show you to your room.” He led them upstairs to the
remaining vacant room. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Balimund shook his head, “We’ll be fine, Talen.”
Talen exited the room, leaving them alone. Kirsli yawned again and headed for
the bed. She was usually fast asleep by this time of night. She removed her
shoes, choosing the side farthest from the door. She slipped under the covers
and made herself comfortable. Though she was very tired, butterflies fluttered
in her stomach at the thought that she’d be sharing the bed with Balimund. She
knew nothing would come of it, but it fed her hope that someday she’d have want
she wanted. After all, he had been very worried about her. That had to count
for something. It satisfied her ego.
She watched as he removed his shoes, set the sword and war axe on the bedside
table and sat on the opposite side of the bed. He sighed wearily, rolling his
shoulders. “Tired,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he answered, his head hung. “It’s been one of those days, my girl.
Tomorrow ain’t gonna be much better.”
She slipped out from beneath the furs, crawled across the bed and knelt behind
him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging them gently. His muscles
were tight. He groaned out loud. Her ministrations felt very good, too good. He
knew he should tell her to stop, that it wasn’t right, but he couldn’t. If it
made him a bad person, so be it. “We’ll get through it. We’ll clean up the mess
and go from there.”
Her hands spread out, working deeper while her thumbs pressed down between his
shoulder blades. He moaned, letting her work. “You’re optimistic about it, but
you didn’t see the house.”
She stopped massaging, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning in
close. “Maybe not, but we can’t let them think they’ve beaten us. Or they’ll
come back and think they can do it again. I know you won’t stand for that.
Besides it just shows how insecure they are.”
Balimund let a small chuckle slip from his lips. So many emotions assailed him.
Pride in her. She was so smart, had wisdom far beyond her young years. There
was a healthy amount of desire to boot, but that he had to keep in check. It
wouldn’t be easy with an erection tenting his smallclothes.
His stroll down memory lane hadn’t helped matters either. He hadn’t thought of
Siv in a long time, but it stirred up things in him he’d long thought forgotten
and the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him. “You’re too smart your own good, ya
know that, right?” He had to tease her, add some levity to the chaos of the
night.
Kirsli planted a kiss on his cheek before she scooted away. She knew if she
didn’t she’d make a fool of herself. He’d let her massage his shoulders and
that had pleased her immensely. She slipped under the furs, rolling to her
side, making herself comfortable.
Balimund watched her for a while. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep. By
Mara’s grace, she was so beautiful. He knew it had been a mistake to wake her.
She should have stayed over at Honorhall tonight. He wouldn’t be sharing a bed
with her, even though he knew this would most likely be the only time that
would ever happen. Not that he’d allow himself to touch her. He knew it would
be best if she could be convinced to go to a school somewhere. She needed to
get out of Riften. If she didn’t, he knew exactly what would happen, and he
knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for very much longer.
He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but it had. He had fallen for
Kirsli.
And he knew it would be a disaster if he ever admitted it or acted on it.
***** Starting Over *****
Chapter Summary
     The Dragonborn strikes back!
Chapter Notes
     This one seemed like it took forever to write. RL just kept getting
     in the way.
     I use a mod that gives werewolves different color fur. Like Aria's is
     blonde. Aela's is red. Farkas is still black. Kinda makes them
     unique. It probably isn't lore friendly... But I like it that. I took
     some liberties with Aria's transformation as well, for expedience
     sake. It just better suited what I was going for.
     I posted some screenshots of an older Kirsli to Skyrim Nexus. This is
     what she'll look like in later chapters of this story.
Aria left Honorhall behind. She wasn’t interested in intruding on a touching
family reunion. She figured Kirsli wouldn’t take too kindly to her being there.
It was best she left. Besides she had plans of her own. She jogged down the
stairs leading to the canal, not an easy feat while wearing 3-inch heels. She
headed for the Ratway. She knew she’d find her prey within.
It was rather easy to find the Ragged Flagon. No one stood in her way. The
petty lowlifes that often could be found within these moldering tunnels had
been wiped out by the flood a few months earlier. The decrepit establishment
was dimly lit. She stopped to listen for a few moments. Things were quiet.
Light conversation was being had between a male and a female. She sensed a
total six people by the beating of their hearts.
Aria strode in as if she owned the place. Her face was a hard mask, her
expression unreadable, but cold fury glittered in her silver eyes. She came to
a halt in the middle of the Flagon, turning her gaze to the barkeeper. “Where’s
that ginger bastard? Get him out here now!”
“Not many would come in here makin’ threats. Best ya scurry off while you're
able. The Ratway, well, it has a habit of swallowin' up the uninvited.” The
bald man in black guild armor spoke up from a nearby table.
Aria turned to face him, “I wasn’t talking to you, pops!” She caught a whiff of
a strong scent behind her, could sense a heart’s rapid beating. She whirled
around, spotting Dirge’s attempt to knife her from behind. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”
Her thu’um caused the Flagon to shake as fire burst from her mouth, setting the
thief ablaze. Dirge screamed as flames hotter than the sun consumed him.
Everyone within the Flagon drew a weapon, advancing on her, while Maul ran over
to his brother’s burnt corpse.
“Get Brynjolf out here and I won’t use any more shouts,” Aria demanded. “I am
not someone to be fucked with.”
“We don’t take kindly to threats, don’t matter who you are.” The Redguard woman
wearing a tan sleeveless version of the guild armor retorted as she left her
seat overlooking the water and came close to Aria.
“Ton, I’d step back if I were you,” the barkeeper cautioned.
“Shut it, Vekel! This bitch doesn’t scare me!” The Redguard snapped.
Aria glared at her, staring her down. “You should be afraid. You all should be
very afraid. I’m your worst nightmare. FUS – RO – DAH!”
“Tonilia!” Vekel screamed as she went flying through the air, ragdolling
helplessly until she impacted into the far wall hard, slumping to a heap on the
stone floor. She didn’t move thereafter. The barkeeper raced to her, kneeling
at her side. He touched her, noted the awkward angle of her neck. “YOU KILLED
HER!”
Accusing eyes turned to Aria.
Vekel screamed again. “Tonilia’s dead!”
“This is my final warning. If that ginger bastard isn’t out here in five
seconds, I kill everyone!” The thu’um rumbled through Aria’s voice, causing the
whole place to shake. Plates and cups rattled upon the tables. Bottles fell off
of shelves, breaking as they hit the floor. Candles flickered, making the joint
that much darker.
Brynjolf stepped out of the darkness, coming from the secret passage leading to
the Cistern.
“That’s enough, lass,” he spoke up.
“I’m not your lass, you bastard.” Aria strode toward him, fury in her every
step. “Just who the FUCK do you think you are?!”
Brynjolf stared her down, unflinching as she got right up in his face. “You
come down here uninvited, killing people, and you have the gall to ask me who I
think I am?!”
“I think you and I need to have a little chat. A private chat, don’t you?” She
asked through gritted teeth. “Just the two of us.”
He nodded his head the way he came, “After you.” He followed close behind her,
shutting the secret entrance behind him. He didn’t want anyone to follow them.
He didn’t want any more of his people hurt. “There’s a room to your right. We
can talk in there.”
Aria’s heels clip-clopped upon the stone floor of the hallway. She walked
slowly, her every sense on alert for duplicity. Behind her, Brynjolf followed
at a slow pace. He carefully watched, evaluated her every move. She was a sight
for the eyes, but all he could feel for her was anger. Pure raw anger. Two
people were dead, one he had cared for greatly.
Once inside the room, he turned rage filled green eyes upon her. “I don’t care
to hear what it is you have to say, but whatever it is, say it and get out.”
“Then I’ll make this short and sweet. This is my final warning. Don’t fuck with
me or the people I care about. The hit on Balimund’s place was totally uncalled
for and I will not stand for it! Back off or I wipe you all out just like I did
the Brotherhood. I think I’ve already proved I don’t make idle threats.” Aria
grabbed him, pushed him against the wall roughly and kneed him in the groin
hard.
Brynjolf groaned in pain as her knee connected with the soft globes of his
balls. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore his throbbing balls. “You started
this, lass. You could have said you weren’t interested. You could have walked
away. But did you? No. You used one of your shouts against me.” He raised his
arms to push her away from him. “And earlier you stuck your nose in Guild
business. We simply won’t let that go. Hence, the blacksmith paid for it.”
Aria grabbed hold of his arms, throwing him to the floor. He landed with an
‘oomph.’ He groaned again, kipping up to his feet into a defensive stance. She
charged him, ramming her elbow into his throat while her other fist pummeled
his gut as hard as she could. He grunted from her first hit; felt the wind
knocked out of him from her second. Then she pounced upon him, riding him down
to the floor. Her knee found his groin a second time before she pinned him. “I
aim to finish it if you fuckers don’t listen! I’m done playing around,” she
growled.
Next thing Brynjolf knew he was nose to snout with a snarling blonde werewolf
and that he had lost all control over his bladder. She nipped at his throat,
growling low in her throat. Brynjolf thrashed beneath her, going for his
dagger. Once he had it in his palm, he brought it up, knifing her in the side.
She howled as it bit into her flesh, allowing her canines to sink into his
shoulder. He cried out in pain, drawing the dagger back to stab her again.
Aria howled, slapping the dagger from his hand. She reared up, blood dripping
from her jowls, bloodlust pounding through her veins, and grabbed him by the
throat. Her long claws bit into the tender flesh of his neck. He yelped in pain
as she slammed him back against the wall. “Enough!” She bellowed, sending wolf
spittle flying in all directions, including his face. “I didn’t come here to
kill you, but so help me Talos, I will. I’ll rip your fucking heart out and
show it to you before you die.”
Brynjolf was breathing heavily. His whole body ached. He was bleeding from a
bite wound on his shoulder. And he really didn’t relish her ripping his heart
out. He held his hands up in submission.
Aria backed away, transforming back to a human. “Can we come to an accord?”
He coughed and wheezed, spitting out blood. “What kind of an accord, lass? What
are the terms? The Guild won’t stop doing what we do.”
“They’re simple. Jorrvaskr is off limits. I doubt you want to deal with pissed
off werewolves, especially me. And don’t even think of sending your little
thieves into any of my houses. My housecarls are like me. They don’t fuck
around. You’ll end up with more dead members. And finally, Balimund is to be
left alone. Your beef is with me, not him. You have a problem with me, bring it
to ME. Oh, Maul had better not trouble Kirsli ever again, because I will take
great pleasure in ripping his dick off and shoving it up his ass. That is if
Balimund doesn’t get to him first. Those are my terms.”
“In exchange for what, lass? We don’t bargain. We take what we want, when we
want. Everyone is fair game.”
“No exchange. You do whatever you want with everyone else. I know you are smart
enough to realize you don’t want me as an enemy. Next time I have to come down
here I’ll bring the Companions and all my housecarls with me. The Thieves’
Guild won’t even be a memory. Skyrim will thank me and there is nothing Maven
can do about that because when I’m through with all of you, she will be next.”
Brynjolf exhaled a weary breath. He knew what Mercer and Maven wanted. He knew
what jobs they already had in the works and knew he wouldn’t be able to pull
the plug on them so easily. And he knew how they’d react when they found out
she’d killed Dirge and Tonilia. He just hoped to get away with his hide when it
was all said and done. “I think I’ve had my fill of werewolves. The blacksmith
won’t be troubled by us. You have my word. I’ll do my best to keep Maul away
from the girl. She’s quite a spitfire. Maybe the blacksmith should keep a
tighter leash on the little bitch,” he flashed a lopsided grin. “Perhaps if
she’s barefoot and pregnant she wouldn’t be running around at night.”
Aria slapped him, “That’s beneath you, you ass. Let me clue you in on
something. He isn’t bedding her.” She backed away, heading for the door. “I
think we’re done here.”
~*~
When Balimund awoke the next morning, he was aware of two things. The first
thing was that sometime during the night Kirsli had snuggled close seeking
heat, for she was now pressed close against his chest with an arm slung over
his waist and her legs tangled with his. Her head tucked under his chin as if
she was meant to be there. She felt good, warm, in his arms. The second thing
he was aware of was the aching erection hard enough to hammer nails with in his
pants. He groaned at the predicament he had found himself in and knew he had to
find a way out of it. Quickly.
He pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, and mentally willed his unruly
member to behave. Or to subside. He didn’t need his body behaving like a lad,
not when he swore he wouldn’t touch her. Even though he wanted to. He groaned,
rubbing his face. Maybe if he dunked himself in the cold waters of Lake Honrich
he’d be okay. Fuck, he groused mentally. Just find a woman, one that didn’t
come with strings attached. Sate your need and be done with it, an inner voice
chastised. He knew that wouldn’t satisfy what he truly wanted, though, and it
was driving him crazy.
He leaned back, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Kirsli honey, it’s time
to wake up,” he said softly, giving her shoulder a little nudge.
Kirsli yawned, though she didn’t open her eyes, “Just a little bit longer. I’m
so warm.”
“I know you are, honey, but we have a lot to do today.” He nudged her shoulder
a second time, “Time to face the day.”
One eye popped open, the green one, gazing at him sleepily. “No, let’s just
stay here and sleep.” She rolled onto her back and stretched, the blanket
falling down past her chest.
He looked away quickly, gritting his teeth while trying to suppress a moan as
his erection continued to ache. He needed to get her out of this room. She was
too damn much of a temptation as she was, and she didn’t even have a clue. Or
maybe she did. “Kirsli,” his tone changed. “Get up. Go down to the common room,
order us something to eat and I’ll be down in a few.”
She knew that tone, knew she was pushing the limits of his patience, and rolled
to the side of the bed. She quickly grabbed her shoes, “Alright, grumpy.” She
pulled them on her feet, and left the room, shutting the door behind her rather
hard.
Balimund sighed in relief. He’d gotten her out of the bed, out of the room and
now he could take care of business. He’d rather suffer her displeasure
momentarily than deal with what repercussions that bedding her might bring. She
was a handful to deal with most days, a real spitfire. He couldn’t even begin
to imagine what she’d be like if he had her beneath him, rutting into her. But
the part of him that was throbbing and demanding attention wanted to find out.
He knew he’d be damned if he ever did. And he’d never be able to let her go.
~*~
Kirsli waited patiently for Balimund at the table Talen had showed her to. She
had ordered poached eggs and mutton for both of them as well as an apple
dumpling. For Balimund she ordered ale and herself some milk. She wasn’t sure
what had made him so grumpy that he shooed her out of the room, but it was
rude. She had been sleeping peacefully and she was warm, but he was right about
one thing. They did have a lot of work to do. She hoped cleaning up the house
wouldn’t be as bad as he had made it out to be. Obviously there was more going
on than her little tantrum. Whatever had happened had covered up for what she
had done. She rather would have explained why she was so upset than have to
deal with what had been done.
She was still lost in her thoughts when he joined her. He touched her shoulder,
startling her. She jumped, throwing a glare at him. “Stop doing that,” she
hissed.
Balimund chuckled, obviously in a better mood. “You were staring off into
nothing.” He grabbed the seat adjacent to her, reaching over to ruffle her
hair. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She shrugged, “Nothing.”
He shook his head, “Didn’t look like nothing to me. I saw you make some pretty
serious faces, and that was just on my way across the room.”
“Just some thoughts, nothing earth-shattering. Why do you want to know?” She
rested her chin on the heel of her palm, chewing on the nail of her pinky
finger. “Maybe I’d rather still be sleeping and someone woke me up.”
He laughed softly, “Someone’s certainly sassy. Maybe I should’ve let you sleep.
I wouldn’t be dealing with your lip this morning.”
Kirsli cast a sideways glare at him, “That’s your own damn fault.”
He noted they were starting to draw attention. He leaned over, giving her that
look. He lowered his voice, “Don’t be so loud. People will get the wrong idea
and the rumors will start again.”
Before Kirsli could answer, Talen brought out their meals, setting them on the
table. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
Balimund nodded before he dug in. He was very hungry and there was a lot to do
today. He focused on eating; trying to ignore the whispers he could hear around
them. He was sure they had provided renewed fodder for the rumor mill. If they
wanted to speculate, he couldn’t stop them. Haelga and many of the others would
surely have picked their actions apart, examined them thoroughly and come to
their own conclusions. All of them wrong. He didn’t feel it hurt him in any
way, but it did Kirsli, because ignorant people believed the rumors to be true.
It didn’t matter that he swore he’d never let it happen, not while she was this
young. Not ever if he was truly smart.
Once they were finished, he paid the bill and they left the Bee and Barb,
heading for home. Asbjorn was waiting outside of the Scorched Hammer as was
Aria. Kirsli made a noise of disapproval, her eyes flashing her malcontent. It
was all Balimund could do to keep a straight face. Kirsli’s jealousy of the
other woman was undeniably apparent and he was sure at some point it would come
to a head.
He greeted them both Asbjorn and Aria then removed the lock and chain from the
door, opening the house for them to see. Kirsli gasped in abject horror, racing
in ahead. She cried out as she headed for the basement. Her sobs echoed through
the dwelling, heart-wrenching in their intensity. When she returned to the main
floor of the house, she clutched in her hands what appeared to be nothing more
than rags.
She threw them at Aria’s feet. “The Guild didn’t have reason to trouble us.
This never would have happened had you not stuck your nose into it. Brynjolf
wouldn’t have tried to grab me last night. I don’t think you need to be here so
you should leave and go back to wherever the hell you came from.”
Balimund cocked an eyebrow at Kirsli before he realized what now rested at
Aria’s feet had once been Kirsli’s clothing. They had been reduced to torn
scraps of fabric. He knew why Kirsli was so upset, so angry. She had gone
without for so long, wearing the same dress and boots until they fell apart.
Then he had offered her a better life and her wardrobe had expanded. She often
used the money she earned to buy a new dress, something pretty, and knew it was
because of her past. Now she was reduced again to the clothes on her back. He
wasn’t sure what her reaction would be when she saw the green dress she’d
bought for the party on Loredas. It lay shredded in silken scraps on his floor.
All he did know was she spent a pretty septim on that dress and the rest of
‘her savings’ in the safe had been stolen.
“Kirsli, I understand you’re angry. I would be too, but let me make it up to
you,” Aria offered.
“I think you’ve done enough. We’ll take care of this. You don’t have any
business here,” Kirsli’s tone became a little heated. She stared the older
woman down, unflinching, but her behavior was beginning to concern Balimund.
“Kirsli,” he spoke up, having to use that tone of voice again.
She glared at him, backing off, and left the room. But a few minutes later she
was right back with the remnants of her dress. She threw it at Aria again, this
time aiming at her face. The scraps of green silk hit and fell to the floor.
Renewed tears fell down her cheeks. “Now I don’t have a thing to wear on
Loredas, either. Have you any idea how much that cost me? And where it came
from and there’s no time to get another? You’ve ruined everything, you stupid
bitch!”
“Are you done having a tantrum?” Aria commented. “It’s a good thing you’re a
child because I’ve killed people for less. If you would’ve listened, I brought
several brand new dresses with me because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear
for the party.”
Kirsli stepped close to Aria, fire burning in her eyes, “I’m not a child.” She
drew her arm back, balling her hand into a fist. It connected with Aria’s jaw
with a crack. “And I don’t want your fucking handouts!”
Aria, the Dragonborn, staggered back. She hadn’t been expecting that. Asbjorn’s
eyes grew to the size of saucers as an expletive slipped from his lips.
Balimund groaned, moving quickly to grab Kirsli from behind. His large arms
went around her, lifting her feet off the ground, pinning her to his chest.
Kirsli kicked and struggled to get loose. “She’s got guts, that’s for damned
sure.” Aria moved her lower jaw around and chuckled. It wasn’t broken. It hurt,
but she’d taken harder hits. “Are you done, kiddo? Can we take a moment for
sense to reassert itself?”
Kirsli tried to break loose. She wanted one more crack at Aria. Wanted to kick
her in her perfect teeth, but Balimund was too strong. “Fine. Put me down.”
Balimund set her down to her feet, though his hands lingered on her shoulders.
“I know this was a shock to you, but we’ll get through it and we’ll get you
another dress for Loredas. It may not be as pretty or from Alinor, but you’ll
look pretty in it, and that‘s what matters. You’ll see. So how about we put the
house back together?”
She spun around, turning her angry, tearful eyes upon him. She raised herself
to her tiptoes and buried her face beneath his chin. “I want that one,” she
cried as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
He wrapped his arms around her, comforting her and allowing her to cry. He knew
this hurt. She was so proud of that dress, but moreover it represented the loss
of that much coin. She’d never been able to superfluously spend that much on
any one thing before. She hiccuped, wiped her nose and pulled away. He brushed
her tears away. “I know you want that one and if I could, I’d get you that one,
honey, but we will find you a pretty dress, even if we have to take a trip to
Windhelm before Loredas. I promise you.” Then he placed a gentle kiss on her
forehead.
She sniffled, “I’ll hold you to that.”
Balimund looked around the room. Aria was nowhere to be seen and Asbjorn was
sitting on the floor, stacking up the remains of the chairs. “I need to change
out of these clothes then I’ll be out to help. Kirsli, you can either help
Asbjorn and we tackle up here altogether or start downstairs?”
“Many hands make for light work, so let’s take of things up here then hit the
basement. They tore my mattress to shreds. So looks like I’m taking your old
room, Asbjorn, if the bed’s in better shape.”
“It’s yours, Kirs,” Asbjorn said as he stood up. “I don’t need it. Constance
agreed to marry me. I talked to Maramal this morning before I came over here.
The ceremony is in two weeks. It’ll be a small private wedding. We want you two
to stand up for us, be our witnesses.”
Kirsli squealed, throwing her arms around him to hug him tightly. “Oh, that is
wonderful. I can’t wait to talk to Constance!”
“I’m sure she’ll be looking forward to the ‘girl talk’ or whatever it is you
women call it. All I know it involves a lot of giggling,” he grinned.
“Congratulations, Asbjorn! It’s about time you make an honest woman of her!”
Balimund clapped his adopted son on the back before giving him a hug also. “I
am happy for both of you.”
“That’s what she said,” Asbjorn laughed. “Course, lot of that had to do with
Grelod still bein’ alive.”
Kirsli began to help Asbjorn while Balimund changed into something he could
work in. He found that not only had Kirsli’s clothing been shredded. A good
portion of his had as well, but they missed a few. He found a spare set of dark
wine red blacksmithing clothes in the basement. He wore all but the heavy apron
to work in, for he doubted he’d be at the forge at all today.
While he was in the basement, he took the time to fix his business ledger, and
pry loose a slab of stone on the far wall. It hid his secret safe. He deftly
worked the combination dial, opening it up, and took inventory of the funds
within. It was something he had installed many years ago just in case something
like this ever happened. They would need to refurnish the house. That meant
placing a good size order with Bersi.
Kirsli would also need some clothing, but he planned on taking the trip to
Windhelm on the morrow so they could get her what she needed as well as a party
dress. Hopefully one of the dry goods store’s up there would have something
nice. He knew Solitude was the place to really look for something like that.
There was a whole store of nothing but fine clothes called Radiant Raiment, but
they didn’t have time to make the trip to Solitude and make it back on time for
the party on Loredas.
Once he had counted everything within the hidden wall safe, he locked it all
back up and headed back upstairs. Kirsli and Asbjorn had made short work of
getting the broken furniture into one pile. They had set the tables upright.
Those were two things they wouldn’t need to order.
So far from the main room, they’d need 4 chairs. Kirsli had cleaned up the food
that had been strewn across the floor. She tossed out what was no good, added
what they needed to the list and replaced what could be salvaged back into the
pantry. Unfortunately, Balimund’s bottle of brandy was missing, and many
bottles of their mead had been smashed on the floor. She was very careful
cleaning up the glass.
While they worked in on the living room, he started on his bedroom. He noticed
the greatsword which rested upon the armoire was missing. Stolen, no doubt. The
shredded clothing he tossed into a pile with the ruined bedding. He cursed
loudly. The bed would need to be replaced as well. He cursed. Looked like he’d
be spending another night at the Bee and Barb.
“That bad, huh?”
He shook his head as he glanced over at Aria, “Could be worse.”
“I’m sure I’m probably not wanted here so I’ll make this quick. I caused this
so I’d like to help in any way I can. Brynjolf and the Guild won’t be troubling
you again. He promised me that he’d keep Maul away from Kirsli as well.” Aria
reported.
Balimund raised a wary eyebrow, “What did you do to get him to promise that?”
Aria rubbed the back of her neck, “Well, I beat the shit out of the bastard and
two of their members are dead. One of which was Maul’s brother, Dirge.”
He shook his head in disbelief, “Shit! Has anyone ever told you that you’re
fuckin’ crazy?”
Aria chuckled, “Yeah. It comes with the territory of being Dragonborn.” Then
she handed him a greatsword. “This is yours, I believe.”
“Much appreciated,” he nodded his head at her. “I noticed it was missing.” He
took a few minutes to look the blade over, checking it over for any damage.
Satisfied it was in as good condition as the day it was forged, he placed it on
a weapon rack.
“I’m going to make a short trip to Falkreath. I have a manor house near Lake
Ilinalta that I rarely use. It’s basically a getaway house for Farkas and I.
Jarl Siddgeir sold me the land, but I didn’t bother becoming a Thane of his
court because he’s a lecherous prick. Farkas threatened to kill Siddgeir to his
face if he dared touch me again. It was awful. I’ve never been so uncomfortable
in my whole life. Anyway, my point is I have the raw materials for the armors
for my housecarls stored there. Plus that house is stuffed full of excess
furniture and whatnot. Let me replace what was broken. I owe you. This wouldn’t
have happened if not for me. Oh, and take this for the armor. I don’t know what
you had in mind to charge me, but there’s quite a bit of coin in that purse.”
Aria extended her hand to him, holding the bag of coin.
He rubbed his face. He felt very conflicted. On one hand he wanted to send her
on her way, severing any ties between them. She had caused a lot of damage and
he was sure they hadn’t seen all the fallout from it yet. But on the other
hand, when was he ever going to get the chance to work with dragon bone and
dragon scales. That was a smith’s wet dream. To have three housecarls of the
Dragonborn wearing his work, he couldn’t buy better advertising.
She flashed a questioning look at him, “You haven’t changed your mind about
taking the commissions for the armor, have you? I can bring extra dragon bone
and scale for you to experiment with. I literally have a ton of it.”
He shook his head, “It’s not that, Aria. I want to do the armor commissions.
It’ll be great for my business. I’ll be the only smith in Skyrim working with
dragon parts. It’s just the other…”
She sighed, “I understand, but please don’t hit me. Your little Kirsli has a
temper and she hits pretty hard. I’m still wounded from the fight with
Brynjolf. He stabbed me twice. I’ve got some more healing to do. I just hope
I’m fully healed by the time I see Farkas. He’ll have a fit if he thinks I’ve
started a Guild war. I know Vilkas will. He’ll say it’s more proof I’m not of
the right temperament to be Harbinger and hell, maybe he’s right.”
“Ah, what the hell. I’d have to go through the trouble of ordering all of it
anyway. We’ll work something out, alright?” He cracked a half-smile at her
before accepting the coin purse. He’d have to take the time to count it later.
“It’ll take me a couple days, but I’ll be back in time for the party on
Loredas. I can still count on you as my date, right? Or has that changed?”
“No, that hasn’t changed. Kirsli will have a fit. I think the reason she hasn’t
chosen anyone is because she was hoping I’d take her, but I think it would send
the wrong message. There are enough damn rumors as it is.”
“I know. I had to correct Brynjolf. He made an asinine comment, saying you
should keep her barefoot and pregnant. He deserved being hit for that one.”
Storm clouds gathered within Balimund’s eyes. He cursed loudly, shaking his
head. “I’d have killed that bastard if I were you, for a remark like that.
Fuck!”
“He knows if he pisses me off again that I’m coming for his head and Maven’s
and the whole stinkin’ Guild.” She wriggled her eyebrows mirthfully. “I think
he got the message, though. Well, I’m not getting anything done standing here
and neither are you. So I’m headed off to Falkreath.”
“That works out good for us. I’m taking Kirsli to Windhelm tomorrow. She needs
clothes and a dress so I figure we’ll find more things there.”
“Check at Sadri’s, or with Niranye. Both usually have a decent selection of
goods. If there was more time, I’d suggest Solitude for a dress, since she
wasn’t interested in what I had to offer.”
He rolled his eyes, “I know. I think it’s jealousy, honestly, and I’ve tried
talking to her, telling her what she envisions will never happen, but she
persists.”
“When I get back, I’ll talk to her.” Aria promised. “She may not want to
listen, but she will hear me. I’ll see you soon.” Then she headed out.
~*~
By the time the house was all cleaned up, it was painfully obvious that almost
everything needed replaced. Only one chair that had been in the basement
survived. It was brought upstairs and put with the surviving table. The bed in
Asbjorn’s room hadn’t been ruined, either, so Kirsli would have a bed to sleep
on tonight. She offered it to Balimund instead and said she could stay at
Honorhall. Everything else they hauled outside of town and set fire to. Then he
gave her some coin to go to Bersi’s so she’d have some clean clothes for the
trip to Windhelm.
While she was out buying clothes, he sat in the basement, counting out the
coins from the pouch Aria had given him. He wasn’t sure what he’d charge her
for the three suits. It all depended on how much labor went into making them.
He was sure though that the 5,000 septims within the pouch would more than pay
for the suits, especially since she was providing the raw materials for them.
The pouch had to be enchanted, though. There was no way a normal pouch of this
size would hold that much. He stashed the coin in his hidden safe, except for
enough for dinner. He and Kirsli would have to eat at the Bee and Barb again.
He heard her come back in, rummaging around in her portion of basement. He
glanced back, watching as she took down the curtain and carried a few undamaged
items upstairs. He chuckled to himself. She was already claiming Asbjorn’s old
room.
He followed her upstairs. “How about you get yourself cleaned up and we’ll have
dinner over at the Bee and Barb? Sound good?”
She flashed a huge smile at him, “You’re on!”
***** Windhelm *****
Chapter Summary
     Balimund takes Kirsli to Windhelm in search of a dress.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter gave me no end of troubles. I was beginning to think it
     didn't want to be written. There will be more that happens in
     Windhelm so stay tuned.
     Huge thanks goes out to my good friend alyssacousland for help,
     encouragement and being an excellent beta! Love ya!
     The dress Kirsli buys is also from a mod as well. It can be found
     here. It's called Triss' Dress, inspired by Triss from the Witcher
     series.
After breakfast the next morning, Balimund led Kirsli to the stables where a
carriage waited. Lucky for them, the man driving the carriage wasn’t Sigaar.
The new wagon master was named Bjorlam and he had switched routes with Sigaar
after the incident with Balimund months earlier. Balimund purchased two fares
to Windhelm and soon they were on their way.
Kirsli fidgeted in her seat. A wide smile crossed her face. She had never been
outside of The Rift, had spent most of her life in Riften. Getting to go to
Windhelm, city of Ysgramor, excited her, left her undone with giddiness. She’d
heard stories of the Palace of the Kings and of its current Jarl, Ulfric
Stormcloak. His rebellion against the Empire, to free Skyrim, had the whole
country in the midst of a civil war. Yet neither side had managed  to gain any
ground. It had affected their lives, though, even in Riften. Balimund had spent
countless hours smithing weapons ordered by Jarl Laila which certainly ended up
in the hands of Stormcloak soldiers. And soon she would be getting the chance
to see it.
From the cobblestone road, they turned onto a well worn trail with wagon rutted
tracks in order to skirt Fort Greenwall. Bandits infested the decrepit fort,
making it difficult to pass. The trail passed through a densely wooded area,
which was teeming with wildlife. Kirsli could see foxes and hares, deer and elk
and wolves. Deer and elk grazed on the frost covered grass while the wolves
preyed upon them. She turned her head away, not wanting to watch the wolf pack
take down an elk that’d fallen behind the herd.
Just beyond Shor’s Stone, the wagon trail reconnected with the road and the
wagon turned back onto it. A traveler waited to board the wagon at Shor’s
Watchtower. Soon Kirsli and Balimund were joined by a young farmer headed for
Windhelm to join Ulfric’s rebellion. The young man was brash and boastful,
barely a few years older than Kirsli. He wore the iron war axe at his hip like
a badge of honor. “Ulfric’s got the right of it,” he stated. “I’m a true son of
Skyrim and I won’t lay down my axe until the Empire is driven out and Ulfric is
High King.”
The young man had courage. That was for sure, but it was apparent he’d never
been in a battle before. Balimund hadn’t ever fought in a war, but he knew what
it felt like to take a life. The intensity of the moment, the adrenaline
pumping through your veins, the screams of the wounded and dying, the fear, the
smell of blood and the acrid stink of fire and death. This pup would soon find
out because Jarl Ulfric wouldn’t hesitate to send him and many other young men
and women to their deaths in the name of Skyrim’s freedom.
Kirsli held onto Balimund’s arm, wary of the looks the young man, who had
introduced himself as Thaern, had been shooting her. She rested her head
against his shoulder, focusing on the scenery around them. The wagon was now
descending off the high plateau The Rift sat upon, the steep grade making
passage slow. The horses plodded along, held in check by the skilled wagon
master. Every once in a while, she would motion to something she saw, asking
about a landmark. Many caves dotted the landscape of this area. Some were said
to home to hagravens and creatures from the deep called Falmer.  Most were
bandit lairs.
“Do you remember nothing from your childhood?” Balimund asked. In all the time
she’d lived under his roof, she had never once spoken of where she came from,
who her parents were and what had happened to her father. Maybe she didn’t
remember. It had been ten years. Perhaps the trauma of being dumped at the
orphanage had locked the memories away.
She shook her head. “It’s all fuzzy. I don’t remember much from before. I had
no siblings. It was just me. Mama was a blonde haired woman. I barely can
recall her face. She liked to bake things, but wasn’t very good at it.” A
puzzled look crossed her face. “We lived near Ivarstead, if I remember
correctly. There was a waterfall. Papa fished a lot. He had red hair. Mama
always said I took after him. I don’t remember how he died, but not long after
he’d been buried, that’s when my Stepfather moved in. He was mean to me, didn’t
like me. Said I had to go to Riften. There wasn’t anything for them in
Ivarstead. I remember Mama seemed sad, but I didn’t understand why. I don’t
remember them getting married, though. Of course, I ended up at Honorhall and
you know the rest.”
“I’m sorry, Kirsli. I shouldn’t have asked.” He slipped an arm around her
shoulders, giving her a half hug to comfort her. “You may not believe it, but
things probably worked out for the best this way. Who knows what would’ve
happened to you if they’d taken you with them to Whiterun?”
She shrugged and sniffled. She didn’t want to think about it. “I’d rather be
here.” She turned her gaze back to the scenery. In the far distance she could
see the tundra hot springs that made up part of Eastmarch’s landscape. A dragon
circled about in the distance. She shivered, hoping they didn’t encounter that
thing. The grade of the road had started to lessen, allowing their speed to
pick up. She continued to point things out. “Oh, look over there. The buildings
have golden roof tops. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Those are Dwemer ruins, sweetie. I think that may be Mzulft,” he smiled. Her
enthusiasm was refreshing. She had such a thirst for knowledge. “Last I heard,
there were mages from Cyrodiil investigating it, but that’s been a while back.
Mostly town gossip.”
“Oh, why would mages come here from Cyrodiil to study Dwemer ruins? Don’t they
have any of their own?” She questioned, pursing her lips as her brow furrowed
thoughtfully.
Balimund chuckled, “Dwemer ruins don’t exist in Cyrodiil. They have ruins from
the Ayleid culture, but not the Dwemer.”
“Who were the Ayleid?” The furrow grew. She had so many questions. There was so
much she wanted to know.
“How about I buy you a book on it? Better yet, maybe we should think about you
getting some schooling, especially if you are serious about the College of
Winterhold. You’ll need a formal education, Kirs.” Balimund suggested,
broaching the subject with her slowly and carefully.
“I like the idea. Going to college would be a dream come true, but where would
I get this formal education? Who would teach me? There’s nothing of that sorts
in Riften.” She bit her lower lips, worrying it between her teeth.
“You’d have to leave Riften, and Skyrim, but it would be worth it. There’s
nothing in Riften for you, and it would open up a whole world of
possibilities.” He knew by the look on her face that his suggestion hadn’t gone
over well.
Her eyes flashed, anger building in them. “Leave Riften? Why would you suggest
that? And who put this idea in your head? Let me guess, her name starts with
the letter ‘A.’ Is that bitch trying to get rid of me?”
Balimund bit his tongue, mentally counting to ten. Kirsli was still jealous,
that was obvious. And the way she ran her mouth was starting to get on his
nerves. Despite certain revelations of his own, he knew he had to put a stop to
her behavior once and for all. His jaw clenched. The urge to turn her over his
knee and tan her hide was strong, but he knew it wouldn’t solve a thing.
“Kirsli,” he hissed. “I’ve had enough of the name calling. And furthermore, why
would you think she wants to get rid of you?”
She glanced around the wagon, mindful of the other passenger and of the wagon
master. If they were alone, she could get a few things off her chest, but there
was someone else present. “You know why,” she retorted as she scooted away from
him. She crossed her arms before her chest, huffing indignantly. Her legs were
also crossed, her foot pumping back and forth angrily. She shot a glare at him.
Balimund knew it would make her even madder, but he couldn’t help himself. He
had to laugh at the whole messed up situation. She was glorious when she was
angry, and very beautiful. Fury painted her cheeks with a natural blush no
cosmetic could begin to match. It made him wonder what passion would look like
upon her flawless skin. He shook his head and pushed that thought aside. He
didn’t need to know. Rich laughter slipped from his lips, “Kirs, you silly
goose, Aria is getting married to one of her fellow Companions.”
Her eyes narrowed while her mind chewed on that tidbit of information. Then she
rolled her eyes at him and looked away, huffing angrily. This prompted more
laughter from him. This trip so far had been going so well. He knew he’d have
to talk to her again sometime about the finishing school Aria had mentioned.
That would go over well. Hopefully he could convince her it would be for the
best. He held firm to the belief that she needed to get out of Riften, before
Mara only knew what happened that he would surely end up regretting.
~*~
The roar of a dragon could be heard as they crossed into Eastmarch. The hot
springs stretched out before them, as steam rose from green pools of water.
Skeletal remains of mammoths rose from the sandy landscape. Living versions
meandered across the tundra herded by giants that stood at least twenty-feet
tall.
Kirsli’s eyes grew in amazement as her anger dissipated like dust in the wind.
She had never seen such beasts before. From the side of the road, a bear stood
on its hind legs, roaring out a warning. Not far from it, a sabre cat chased
down large antlered elk. She glanced away again, staring at the road ahead.
There seemed to be three warriors in similar dark armor in the road, fighting
off a pair of sabre cats and a giant. The wagon master drew the wagon to a halt
a fair distance away, waiting for the road to clear. He stood up, pulling forth
a spyglass to get a better look at who was doing the fighting. Once his
curiosity was satisfied, the wagon master sat back down and turned to his
passengers. “Up ahead in the road taking care of those beasts are three members
of the legendary Companions. I used to see them fairly regularly when I worked
out of Whiterun. You won’t find a more talented group of fighters in all of
Skyrim. Their mead hall, Jorrvaskr, is the oldest building in Whiterun.”
Bjorlam handed back his spyglass, letting his passengers get a look at the
Companions in action. Kirsli passed it over, scoffing when he had mentioned the
name ‘Companions’, but Balimund was interested in getting a look at them. All
three were male, the smallest being a Dunmer, who fought with two longswords.
His attacks were fast, a flurry of blows meant to confuse and drain. The second
male in the distinctive wolf armor he’d seen Aria wearing the other night when
she’d come by with the fire salts had blond hair and fought with a war axe and
shield. Even from this distance he could tell those weapons were of Skyforge
Steel make. The Companions didn’t wield anything else. The third male was the
bulkiest of all with close-cropped dark hair and war paint on his rugged face.
He wielded a greatsword as if it was an extension of his own arms.
It didn’t take the three warriors long to make short work of the sabre cats
before turning their attention to the giant, who stomped his feet and slammed
his heavy club down into the earth, shaking the ground around him. Two of the
warriors staggered backwards, but the one wielding the greatsword stood firm,
striking at the creature’s legs with a war cry on his lips. That one was surely
a master swordsman.
Bjorlam set his team of horses into motion once more, hoping to get a better
view of the three Companions taking on the giant. He stopped again a short
distance away, a wide grin on his face. It wasn’t everyday one got to be this
up close and personal watching the Companions battle something.
The giant fell, crashing to the earth with a heavy impact. The three let out
cries of victory before noticing they had an audience. Bjorlam stood on his
wagon, hailing them over. As they neared his wagon, he reached under his seat
and pulled out a few bottles of mead, handing them down. “It’s always a
beautiful sight to watch the Companions do what you do best. Here’s to you,
Farkas, Torvar, Athis.”
The name Farkas caught Balimund’s attention. That was Aria’s fiancée. He wasn’t
sure if he should mention he knew her, but what would it hurt? Maybe Kirsli
would get over her little snit about Aria and maybe things would go smoothly on
Loredas. He hopped down out of the wagon and walked around to the front where
the three men stood, enjoying the bottles of Honningbrew that Bjorlam had given
them. “Hail, Companions. That was some fine fighting. It’s a pleasure to meet
you.” He held out his hand to Farkas. “I’m Balimund, the smith from Riften. I
know Aria.”
Farkas gave the newcomer a once-over, glancing up and down, his brows furrowing
over heavy lidded silver eyes at the mention of Aria’s name. The name sounded
familiar, but Aria had helped so many people during her travels. He thought
pensively. Blacksmith. Riften. That’s where she was headed a few days ago. He
knew there was a reason. “Oh, the fire salts,” Farkas said aloud as it came to
him, extending his hand to shake Balimund’s. “Nice to meet you.”
Balimund glanced over at the fallen sabre cats, “I’d pay good coin for those
sabre cat pelts, if you’re of a mind to bring them to me in Riften.”
Farkas grinned, “Consider it a deal. Is Aria in Riften right now? I think she
said something about a special event for two of the townsfolk she’d helped out,
but I don’t recall when.”
“Loredas. She said yesterday that she needed to make a short trip to Falkreath
to gather the raw materials for three suits of armor she’d commissioned for her
housecarls. You just might surprise her if you show up with those pelts,”
Balimund chuckled.
“I bet it would,” his smile widened. It was easy to see that the warrior was
head over heels in love with Aria. “Don’t tell her.”
Balimund shook his head, “Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing. I have business in
Windhelm anyway.”
Torvar belched loudly before belligerently sneering at the smith talking to
Farkas. “Why would our Harbinger commission armor from you? Everyone knows
Skyforge Steel is the best.”
Balimund raised an eyebrow, chuckling at the man’s rudeness. “She wanted dragon
bone armor made so she asked me.” He wasn’t offended. Far from it really. Aria
had mentioned that Torvar spent more time drunk than sober and often spoke out
of turn.
“Torvar, this is why you’re still a whelp, and why you shouldn’t speak ill of
the decisions of the Harbinger. Besides, you know Eorlund won’t make special
armor for non-Companions.” Farkas reprimanded him in a stern tone.
Torvar bowed his head, suddenly finding his boots interesting. At least he had
the good sense to look ashamed.
Balimund bid the Companions farewell and climbed back into the wagon. Moments
later, they were on their way again. Beyond the tundra was the sleepy little
town of Kynesgrove. It was nothing more than an inn and a mine with a handful
of inhabitants.
The closer to Windhelm they got, the colder it became. Snow flurries danced
upon a frigid North wind. Kirsli shivered. Now she knew why Balimund insisted
she dress as warmly as possible. Not an easy feat considering most of her
clothing ended up as cloth scraps. She burrowed into her coat and snuggled into
his side. He was plenty warm. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders,
accepting her presence at his side. So far it seemed their earlier argument had
been forgotten.
Though she was cold, she was excited about the snow. In all her life she’d
never seen it like this before. She could vaguely remember seeing the snow
covered peaks surrounding the Throat of the World and the Jeralls in the
distance, but to have the snow falling all around her was something new. Tiny
crystallized flakes fell upon her gloved hand. She remembered her Papa telling
her when she was but a little girl that snowflakes were the frozen tears of the
Gods. She was in awe.
Her breath caught in her throat as the wagon descended a short slope and pulled
up in front of the Windhelm Stables. A long stone bridge spanned the White
River leading up to the city gates. Windhelm was the city of Ysgramor, the
oldest city in Skyrim and the oldest continuously inhabited human settlement in
all of Tamriel. She’d never seen anything so grand before. While Mistveil Keep
was an impressive edifice, it paled in comparison to The Palace of the Kings.
It towered above the surrounding buildings. Where Mistveil seemed warm and
inviting, Windhelm’s Palace was stark and austere.
Balimund helped her out of the wagon and together they crossed the bridge to
the city gates. Ornate carvings of three stone eagles rested above the gate,
welcoming visitors with an open maw. Adorning the stone walls were more
carvings, predominantly bears as the symbol of Eastmarch was a great bear.
The atmosphere of the city was as bleak as the sky. Townsfolk wandered about
with weary expressions on their weathered faces. Most seemed to be going about
their daily lives, while others took advantage of the chaos that the civil war
had created to force their opinions down the throats of the less fortunate. One
in particular stood out.
Balimund led Kirsli to the small marketplace in the Stone Quarter. He knew that
one of the vendors Aria had mentioned had her stall there. He pointed it out,
allowing Kirsli to shop while he stopped by the local smithy, casually browsing
the wares on display. He knew Oengul mostly through reputation. The man could
be quite boastful, but his work spoke for itself. They’d met once more than a
few years ago, during his last visit to Windhelm.
One piece in particular caught his eye. He lifted it from where it rested,
examining it thoroughly. The workmanship in it was extraordinary. It was old,
that much was clear, but the blade was as sharp as if it was brand new.
“I don’t allow just anyone to handle that.” A male voice from behind him called
out. “Best to put it back.”
Balimund turned in the direction of the voice. “I know how to handle a blade
with care, Oengul. This one is beautiful.”
“That’s Queen Freydis’ sword. She ruled over Windhelm during the Second Era,
reclaimed for me by the Dragonborn. That one rarely leaves Ulfric’s side
nowadays. It’ll be a fitting gift to present our new High King.” Oengul boasted
proudly.
“The Dragonborn, you say?” Suspicion furrowed Balimund’s brow. As far as he
knew, Aria had claimed she’d never join the Stormcloak rebellion. Something
didn’t seem right. “That must’ve been quite the boon for Ulfric to have the
Dragonborn join his cause.”
“It has been. He’s inspired so many to join Ulfric’s cause. So many who had
been on the fence about the Ulfric’s rebellion have now flocked to Windhelm.
The Dragonborn is a true son of Skyrim.”
“Son? What’s he like? This legendary bastion of Nord-dom.” Now he knew his
suspicions were unfounded. Aria hadn’t joined the Stormcloak rebellion. It was
a pretender claiming to be the Dragonborn. An obvious scare tactic against the
Empire on Ulfric’s behalf. All lies. He wondered if Aria knew. “Is he Talos
incarnated as the stories claim?”
“He’s very tall and broad. He wields a battleaxe like he was Ysgramor. Every
Nord should aspire to be like him. I hear Ulfric’s ready to take Whiterun and
the Dragonborn will be leading the charge.” Oengul beamed. “The Legion or all
of Balgruuf’s men or the Companions couldn’t stop him. It doesn’t bode well for
them, especially since I’ve heard the Companions are neutral about the war.
Ulfric’s not pleased about them not joining his side.”
Balimund crossed his arms, “That’s interesting because I heard the new
Harbinger claim she’d single-handedly defend Whiterun against any attack from
the Stormcloaks or the Imperial Legion. I know her. I’ve seen her fight.”
“But could she defeat the Dragonborn, with the power of the Voice? I highly
doubt it.” Oengul retorted. “Eh, enough of that. What brings you out to the
Rift?”
“My apprentice needed a few things she couldn’t get in Riften,” he said as he
glanced over at Kirsli before replacing the sword.
“Taken on another, eh? Is the boy out on his own now?”
“He’s getting married in a couple weeks, but he still works for me. That one
over there has talent, and she’s very smart. I’ll be thankful for both of them.
The Harbinger commissioned three suits of armor from me, two of which are
dragon bone, for her housecarls. I’ll be busy for a while.” He glanced over,
noticing that Kirsli was walking toward him. “I think she’s ready. Good talking
to you, Oengul. Say if you see the Dragonborn tell him to come down to Riften.
We’d like to express our gratitude.”
“Will do and have a safe trip back. It’s dangerous on the roads.”
Balimund met up with Kirsli, who was wearing a long face. He cocked an eyebrow,
“No luck?”
She shook her head, “No, Niranye didn’t have anything. She said to check
Sadri’s Wares, but she said I probably wouldn’t find what I was looking for
here. I’d need to go to Solitude.”
They made their way to the part of Windhelm known as the Grey Quarter and found
Sadri’s. The Dunmer proprietor smiled at them as they entered the small store.
It looked like it had seen better days, but that could also be said for the
entire Quarter. It was obvious that Ulfric was content to let the dark elves
reside in such squalid conditions.
As they entered the shop, the Dunmer behind the counter called out a pleasant
greeting. “Hello, do come in. A trader dropped by recently with some lovely
pieces, if you'd like to have a look. And all my goods are legitimate, which is
more than I can say for some.”
Kirsli stepped up to the counter, fidgeting slightly. “I’m looking for a dress.
A special party dress. I hoped you’d have something like that in stock.”
He rubbed his chin, “By Azura, I think I might have something. I did some
trading with one of the Khajiit caravans. Let me see.” He walked from behind
the counter, entering the back room. After several minutes of rummaging about,
he returned, a large dress box in hand. He laid it upon the counter, opening it
for her.
He revealed a dark gold brocade strapless dress. Diamonds and pearls adorned a
band at the top as well as the bodice and a skirt. Kirsli lifted it out of the
box, holding it up against her. It was a gorgeous creation, one she doubted she
could afford. She could dream, though.
“You can use the back room to try it on, if you’d like. It comes with gloves, a
wrap, slippers and jewelry.” Revyn commented.
She didn’t waste time grabbing up the contents of the box, taking it with her
to the back room. Quickly she slipped out of her clothing and into the dress.
It fit her well, hugged her curves. The gloves were of the same brocade
material, fingerless and were elbow length. She slid them up, loving the feel.
Then she slipped the matching slippers onto her feet. Finally she added the
jewelry.
She stepped out into the main room. Balimund’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth
going dry. She looked beautiful in it. He fought back a groan.
“How do I look?” she asked. Her eyes gleamed.
He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. She looked stunning. He
shifted, willing a certain part of himself to calm down. “It is lovely dress,
Kirs and you look nice in it, but I think it might be too mature for you. Might
give off the wrong idea.” Especially the ones he was thinking as he eyed her.
The way it hugged her, and enhanced her chest…it reminded him how badly he was
in need of a woman.
“If I might intercede,” Revyn spoke up. “I don’t think it’s too mature for her.
She is a beautiful young lady and deserves to wear such finery.”
Balimund frowned at him. The merchant wasn’t helping. He knew the man was
looking to make a sale.
“I like it. It’s prettier than the other dress I bought. You think I look
pretty in it, don’t you?”
“Yes, Kirsli, you look very pretty in it. All I’m saying is you know much
trouble you have with the men in Riften. What message do you think this dress
will send if you show up at the party wearing it? Maybe you need something that
covers you up more.”
Her eyes flashed fire briefly. “Then you should go as my date and there won’t
be that trouble!”
He shook his head. He knew she was going to say that. He knew she would press
the issue. “You know what people would say if I did. Besides I’m taking Aria.”
She glared at him, “Figures. We came here to find me a dress. This is the only
one I’ve found and I like it. I want this one. I want something nice.”
He bit his tongue, holding in what he wanted to say. It wouldn’t do well to
hurt her feelings. He had to remind himself this was for her and wasn’t about
what he was feeling. “Fine, Kirsli,” he sighed tiredly, rubbing his face.
Hopefully the Dunmer didn’t have an extravagant price on it. “We’ll take it.”
She did a little happy dance while Balimund settled up the bill. It wasn’t as
expensive as he thought it would be, but it was more than he had wanted to
spend. At least they still had coin enough for their meals, a room at the inn
and fare back to Riften.
 
***** Lies *****
Chapter Summary
     An argument with Balimund lands Kirsli in a dangerous situation.
Chapter Notes
     I have to express my undying gratitude to alyssacousland for her
     help, wonderful beta skills and for all the encouragement that keeps
     me going. Love ya dearly!
Chapter_Fourteen:_Lies
The interior of the Candlehearth Inn was warm and the smell of fresh baked
bread beckoned an inviting atmosphere. Many of the townsfolk gathered in the
Great Room around a central fireplace, listening to the harmonic verse of the
Dunmer bard exalting the virtues of Jarl Ulfric’s rebellion and of the
Dragonborn.
Upon finding an empty table, a rather attractive barmaid came by to take their
order. Kirsli frowned, briefly flashing angry eyes while Balimund flirted with
the voluptuous blonde.
“Ugh! Could the wench possibly wear less?” Kirsli scoffed, displeasure
darkening her eyes.
Balimund let a chuckle slip. Kirsli’s jealousy was very evident. He knew he
should put an end to it, but some part of him enjoyed it.
“She’s here to entice the men into drinking more. I happen to appreciate it.
She is quite beautiful.” And he had been without for far too long.
Kirsli sneered at him followed by a rather disgusted noise.
“You know if you roll around with skeevers, you’re bound to get fleas.” Her
eyes flashed again. “Isn’t that what you usually tell Haelga? This wench isn’t
any different.”
He shook his head, leaning in. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. His
teeth clenched. The jealousy had gotten old and he’d be damned if he put up
with any more of it.
“What is it to you what she does? How is it any of your business to look down
your nose at her? Who are you to judge her? You don’t know what her life is
like, what she has been through.”
She glared at him. He was right and they both knew it. She crossed her arms,
huffing indignantly, but said nothing further. She really just wanted to head
back to Riften, but the plan was to spend the night and return in the morning.
The rest of the day couldn’t pass quickly enough.
~*~
 The only room the inn had available was small, with a single bed. It was
barely big enough for one person. Balimund didn’t want to think about sharing
it. Not with Kirsli. It would surely be his undoing. So when the offer of a
nightcap came from the tavern wench, Susanna, he quickly accepted. She was
clearly interested in more than just drinks. 
And he was more than happy to oblige.
The one not happy about the arrangement was, of course, Kirsli.
She closed the door, shutting them in the room together. Her mind worked
furiously as she tried to form her thoughts into a valid argument against it.
Unshed tears stung her eyelids. She fixed a sensual gaze upon him, beckoning
him to take what she was offering.
“You don’t need to go with that woman. You don’t even know her. There’s nothing
she can give you that I can’t.” Kirsli began. She leaned against him, brazenly
running her fingers down his chest. “No one back home will ever know, either.
Let me take care of you. Please.”
Somehow her boldness didn’t surprise him. He had known all her protests and
glares were leading up to this. She was right. No one back home would know, but
there would be plenty of gossip. Exactly what he wanted to avoid.
But he couldn’t.
Wouldn’t.
He knew it had to end here.
Make the cut. Quick. Clean.
And pray to the Divines it was the right thing, that it didn’t hurt her too
badly.
He placed his hands on his hips, leveled upon her a stern look. “I’m only going
to say this once. So get it through that thick head of yours. What you want is
never going to happen. It’s not your age, girl. You just aren’t what I’m
looking for in a woman. You’re not blonde. And you’re a tad too much on the
scrawny side. I prefer a much more voluptuous woman. I want a woman I don’t
have to worry about breaking during sex. I’ve never been particularly gentle.
You’re also far too clingy.”
The dam broke. Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked. Balimund hated seeing
them. Hated knowing he had been the one to put them there. But it was for the
best. She’d thank him in the long run.
“We both know once would never be enough for you. You’d tempt fate and before
you knew it, you’d end up with child. Quite frankly, I’m not looking to settle
down, not with you. Not with anyone. Have you honestly not considered why I’m a
bachelor at my age? It’s by choice.”
His hard stare cut through her, sharper than any blade he had ever forged.
“Just don’t take it personally. I’m not saying you aren’t beautiful, because
you are. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. I’m saying what I’ve said
before. Don’t offer yourself up like a tart. You’re better than that.”
Kirsli tasted bitter tears. She didn’t want to believe what she heard, not out
of him. He had never been that cruel. Not to her. But the seriousness of his
expression, the censure in his voice, and the stiffness of his posture spoke
volumes.
She hastily wiped her tears, backing away from him. “And you are fucking in
denial. Do you think I don’t know how you watch me, especially when you think
no one notices? Tell your lies. Lie to yourself. Lie if it makes you feel less
guilty for wanting what you think you shouldn’t want. Lie with that whore. Get
your fill, but don’t you dare come whining to me for a potion when you end up
with crotch rot!” She yanked the door open and angrily stormed away, leaving
the inn behind.
Fury and no small amount of hurt coursed through her. Let him have that whore.
She knew what he was doing. She scoffed. His actions were so transparent. Did
he honestly think she didn’t see right through him? Damn him. She wasn’t about
to put up with it. However much she enjoyed residing in the same house as
Balimund, she knew it was time for her to move on. Move out of the Scorched
Hammer. He could fix his own meals and keep his own house clean. She was done.
Constance was in need of an assistant at Honorhall. Kirsli hoped she could
convince her to hire her on. She would need the help, especially after she
married Asbjorn and the two had a child. Kirsli knew Constance wanted one. So
did Asbjorn. He wanted to pass on the skills he learned from Balimund.
It all came back to him.
~*~
Kirsli wandered around the Grey Quarter for a while before making her way to
the docks. These ones were nothing like the ones in Riften. The cold bite of
the northern wind hit them the hardest. Half a dozen boats were moored here,
bobbing forlornly in the frigid water. Most of the workers were Argonian, doing
menial labor the Nords would not.
She found a quiet spot near one of the warehouses and hunkered down, trying to
escape the biting wind. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Balimund or that
wench right now and she was sure he wouldn’t come looking for her here. If that
meant staying away from the inn, then so be it. It wasn’t like she didn’t know
hardship. She did, all too well. It was here that she let the tears fall again,
pouring out the pain from that brutal rejection.
She never thought she’d hear those words from him. She never thought he’d be so
malicious. Whether it was the truth or not, he could’ve let her down easier.
Maybe she’d just pushed too much. This wasn’t the first time. Maybe he finally
got tired of making her understand.
Still she knew what she had felt when she was wrapped up in his arms just a
couple nights ago. She knew what she had felt when she awoke in his arms. He
was hard, fully aroused. She’d bet everything she had that he would not have
shooed her out of the room that morning if she were older. She was certain he
would’ve bedded her. He could lie all he wanted, but she knew better.
~*~
As dusk fell, she left the docks, wandering back into the Grey Quarter. She
loathed to admit that it hurt even more that he hadn’t come looking for her. He
always had before. Guess he was too busy bedding that wench.
She passed through the gates. She wasn’t sure where she would go now. She had
seen some kind of cornerclub next to Sadri’s. Perhaps she’d head there. She had
a small amount of coin in her purse; hopefully it would be enough to rent a bed
for the night.
Just inside the gates stood a child, no more than eight or so, holding a basket
of flowers. She shivered uncontrollably within the threadbare coat she wore,
which looked to be far too small for her. Her eyes were sad. Her cheeks and
nose were red from the cold. Her patchwork dress looked as if it had seen
better days.
Truth be told, it probably had. Kirsli knew what this little girl was going
through. Only Riften was a good bit warmer than Windhelm. Kirsli had also been
older.
She stepped forth, “Would you like to buy some flowers? Please.”
“Let me see what you have,” Kirsli replied, smiling at the girl. She peered
into the basket. It held several red and blue mountain flowers, nightshade and
lavender. “I’ll take them all.”
Kirsli gave her 10 septims.
“Why are you begging out here? Where are your parents?”
The little brown haired girl turned sad hazel eyes upon Kirsli. She sneezed and
sniffled.
“They... they're dead. My mama died when I was little... I... I don't remember
her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day, he left and...
didn't come back. I'm all alone... I... I try to sell flowers so I can buy
food. It's not much but... what else can I do?”
She was an orphan, alone on the streets of the coldest, snowiest city in
Skyrim.
“What’s your name?”
“Sofie.”
Kirsli smiled warmly at her. “My name is Kirsli. I lost my papa when I was a
few years older than you are. I was sent to Honorhall in Riften. I’m surprised
you haven’t been sent there, too. I could take you there if you’d like to get
out of the cold and not have to worry about buying food. Constance will take
good care of you.”
Sofie shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “No, I’ve heard that’s a
horrible place. No one wants to go there.”
Kirsli tried to give her a hug, but she squirmed away. “It used to be a bad
place. That was because of old Grelod. She was mean, but she died. It’s better
now. Constance is very nice. I help her sometimes. You could go with me back to
Riften and I’ll take you to meet Constance. I know you’ll like her. Besides, it
would be better than this.”
Sofie looked around, a scared look in her eyes. She really wanted to get out of
the cold. Would love to have a real home again. She missed her papa so much,
but even she knew she’d probably die if she stayed here. Reluctantly she
replied, “I’ll go to Riften with you, to Honorhall.”
“Let’s get you something to eat.”
Kirsli led her to the New Gnisis Cornerclub. The mood was just as frosty inside
as it was out in the cold. The Dunmer barkeep sneered at her, his hate of the
Nords obvious.
“Another damn Nord,” he scoffed. “I’m sure you’ll be more at home at the
Candlehearth, not here.”
“This little girl needs something to eat and I have coin to buy it,” Kirsli
retorted, her eyes flashing angrily. She wasn’t used to such rudeness from an
elf. Not even Tythis. “Or is my coin not good enough for you?”
His eyes flicked over Sofie. He’d run the little girl out into the cold before
when she had no gold to pay for her meal. It was a terrible thing to do to a
child, but he knew the Nords wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to a Dunmer child
begging in one of their establishments or on their streets.
Kirsli slammed several gold coins down on the counter. “She’ll have hot soup,
preferably with vegetables if you have them. And warm milk.”
The Dunmer glared at her. “I do have the right to refuse service, but I’m sure
you’d be like the rest of the Nords in the gods-forsaken city and complain to
the Jarl.”
Kirsli really wanted to scream at him, but that wouldn’t endear him at all. She
calmed her voice and flashed him a small smile. “I’m not from here. I live in
Riften. I just here on a day-trip and it’s not been a good day. So I really
don’t appreciate your attitude. I’m not like the people here. Growing up, I was
an orphan so I know what she’s going through. Besides I have nothing against
your people.”
Revyn Sadri walked up to the counter and stood beside her, “Calm down, Ambarys.
She spent a great deal of coin in my shop today. Bought that gold dress I
thought I’d never sell.”
Ambarys nodded his head at Revyn before serving the little girl. The barkeep
then collected the gold coins she had placed on the counter.
“Thank you,” Kirsli said to Revyn.
She made sure Sofie finished all of it then escorted her back out into the
cold, telling her about the room at the Candlehearth that they could sleep in.
As they made their way back, something peaked her interest and she stopped.
It was Calixto’s House of Curiosities.
“I wonder what curiosities he has. Shall we see?”
Though it was late in the evening, and she expected the shop would probably
close soon, she guided Sofie into the shop.
A middle aged man wearing an embroidered red and purple tunic greeted her
warmly.  
“Welcome to the House of Curiosities! I offer a brief tour for a few coins, or
you can simply browse at your leisure.”
Kirsli smiled, “I think we’d like a tour. How much do you charge?”
“Five septims, but the wonders I present are well worth it.” She handed him the
gold, noting her coin purse was getting lighter. She’d have to save what she
had left, at least until she was back home and gathered the rest. “Splendid! If
you'll just follow me, I'll tell you tales and show you wonders such as you've
never seen.”
"My sister and I inherited a modest sum of money. We decided to travel and seek
out whatever adventures we could find. As we journeyed across Tamriel, we
encountered tales of exotic and wondrous artifacts. We decided to collect as
many as we could. My sister passed away some years ago, so I settled down here
and opened the House of Curiosities. I think she would be happy to know that
our collection has brought smiles to faces both young and old."
Calixto got up out of his chair and escorted Kirsli and Sofie to a nearby
shelf.
"These tools were found in a crypt outside Windhelm. They belonged to the
ancient Nords who dwelt in Skyrim before the days of the First Empire. Most
scholars believe that the Nords of old used these implements to prepare their
dead for burial. What macabre mysteries would these tools reveal if they could
but speak?"
They moved out onto another shelf. He cleared his throat.
"Here is the Book of Fate, discovered in a secret room in the Arcane
University. The writing in the book describes the destiny of its reader, so the
words change from one person to the next. Some see only blank pages, and nobody
knows why. Perhaps some of us are born with no destiny, or maybe the blank
pages signify an imminent death."
Kirsli’s curiosity got the best of her with this item. She wondered how it
worked and she was more than a little curious about her fate. What would happen
to her? Should she leave Riften behind for an education? She wanted to study
the arcane, wanted to go to the College of Winterhold. She knew magic was
anathema to mostly all Nords, but she couldn’t help but want to unlock its
mysteries.
Picking up the book, she flipped through its pages. Her brow furrowed as the
book showed her a dock, a ship and what looked like a potion bottle. None of
that made any sense to her, but perhaps in the future it would become clearer.
 
He ushered them to another shelf.
"Ah, now here is an item out of legend. This is Ysgramor's Soup Spoon. Now, I
know what you're thinking - this is no spoon, it's a fork! Nobody can eat soup
with a fork! Well, my friend, you did not know Ysgramor."
Kirsli flashed an incredulous look at him. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“No one alive can say they knew Ysgramor. He’s been dead a long time.”
A lopsided smile crossed his weathered face, “You are a smart one.” Then final
stop on the tour was on a nearby table.
"Don't let this innocent-looking flute fool you, for this is the Dancer's Pipe.
Legend holds that the Dancer's Pipe has won wars, toppled empires and changed
the very course of history. None know its origins, but the stories say that men
who hear its music are compelled to dance uncontrollably, no matter the peril.
To activate this strange power, one must only speak the magic words, which
are... Oh my, I very nearly got us both into a nasty predicament, didn't I?"
Calixto stepped aside, gesturing to the door.
"And with that, the tour is over. I thank you for your patronage, and I hope to
see you again soon!"
Kirsli smiled placidly, “And you are welcome. It is a most interesting
collection. Have a good evening.”
“Oh, I will.” A curious look flashed through his eyes briefly. “I will.”
Calixto knew he had just found what he was looking for, especially since
Susanna proved to be most elusive. He had almost cornered her a few nights
before. And this evening she seemed to have male company. But the girl who just
left his shop could prove to be a worthy replacement. She looked like she had
strong joints, which would surely contain some exquisite tendons.
He would follow her, but he’d have to scare away the little girl. He would get
this one alone.
Soon.
It wouldn’t be much longer.
~*~
“Can you take me to the Hall of the Dead, please? My mama is buried there and I
want to say goodbye to her one last time before I go to Riften.” Sofie turned
pleading eyes upon Kirsli.
There was no way Kirsli could refuse that request. “How about you lead the way
because I don’t know where the Hall is located?”
Sofie beamed at her, “I’ll show you.”
The skies were overcast. Not much moonlight shone through, making the city
darker than usual. Despite the fact that there were a few streetlamps here and
there, it lent a touch of foreboding. Kirsli shivered. She didn’t like it at
all, but she didn’t want to disappoint the little girl. Besides, she was in no
hurry to get back to the inn. She didn’t want to see Balimund with that wench.
Hopefully the old fool would have sense enough to do his business elsewhere.
She really didn’t want to hear their moans of pleasure. That would be too much.
The Hall of the Dead was closed for the night, but that didn’t seem to bother
Sofie. She simply led Kirsli to a small tombstone outside in the small
graveyard. Kirsli gave Sofie the time to say her goodbyes. She kept her
distance, but kept a watchful eye on the little girl.
~*~
With her attention on the child, it made it easy for the one who had been
stalking her to sneak up on her. He grabbed her from behind, one hand clamping
over her mouth while his other arm snaked around her waist, holding her tight.
Kirsli screamed. It came out muffled as the hand was pressed tight. She felt
her feet leave the ground as someone picked her up. She kicked and struggled.
Her mind raced furiously. She’d been through this before with Maul. Fight him
off. Get loose enough to scream for help. She knew she couldn’t reach her
dagger yet, but she knew of one thing that might work.
She focused her mind for a moment. It wasn’t easy as her attacker jerked her
around. Dipping into the well of her magicka, she bought her arm up, casting a
flames spell at the hand which covered her mouth. He growled as the fire
scorched his flesh, allowing her to scream louder. Her legs flailed, kicking
harder. He grunted as her boot connected with his knee. Then came another blast
of fire, this one more concentrated, hotter. It blistered his skin.
He let go. She screamed as loudly as she could. “HELP ME!”
His hands snaked about her throat and he squeezed. She would be his.
“Sofie, run! Get help!” Kirsli managed.
He gripped her chin, wrenching her neck as if he was trying to snap it. Then he
could drag her off to his lair, and take the tendons and marrow he still needed
to complete his masterpiece, his opus.
As scared as she was, her fear didn’t dampen her magicka. She dipped deep into
that pool. Fire wreathed both hands. She brought them up to his face, and let
go of the spell. He screamed out as fire licked his skin, scorching his eyes.
Immediately he let her go. She grabbed her dagger from its sheath at her belt
and slashed at him. Her strike hit him, opening a gash in his tunic and drawing
a line of blood.
“You’ll pay for that, girl. You will die and my sister will be reborn from your
flesh.” He blathered on, most of it incoherent. “Star-scrying to the edge of
the ice-mind… look to the lights where the souls dance… revealing the time when
a spark will revive when the rotted unites under most skillful hands.”
Kirsli wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She also wasn’t sure why the man
from the House of Curiosities was attacking her. She just hoped help would
arrive. Where were all the damn guards? She’d seen plenty patrolling about the
city earlier. Just like the ones in Riften, she scoffed. They were never around
when you really needed them.
She wasn’t sure what to do. If she stayed here until help arrived, he could
possibly overpower her. Her magicka wouldn’t last long and she wasn’t very good
with her dagger. On the other hand, if she ran he may not follow her. Or he
might get away and then some other girl might fall victim to his ravings.
Kirsli backed away, tripping over a tombstone. She threw her dagger at him,
cursing as he deflected it easily. She had fire which she threw at him with
both hands.
A clamor of heavy boots sounded on the stairs leading down into the graveyard.
Kirsli screamed out for help again. With the arrival of the tall ebony armored
man followed by a couple Windhelm guardsmen, Kirsli’s attacker fled toward the
houses of Valunstrad. The ebony clad warrior gave chase, following him to
Hjerim.
However, Calixto didn’t make it inside the empty house. He was cut in two by
the battleaxe the ebony clad man wielded. He left the corpse on the doorstep,
knowing the guardsmen would want to search it.
Returning to the graveyard, he leveled a knowing look upon the guardsmen. “I
think that was the one Viola has been calling The Butcher. Hard to believe it
was Calixto, though. I always thought him odd, but I never thought he was a
killer.”
Kirsli sank down on one of the marble graves. She shook uncontrollably. Tears
flowed freely down her face, dripping off her chin.
She had survived.
~*~
The man who rescued her introduced himself as Kristof, though most of the
guards called him Ice Veins. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and was very
attractive. His face was unlined, suggesting he was probably somewhere in his
twenties. His hair was shaved on the sides, with multiple small braids on the
top. The rest of the length flowed down over armored shoulders to his waist.
He led her to the palace after giving the guards orders to take the body to
Helgird at the Hall of the Dead. The man really didn’t deserve to be entombed
next to the cities’ honored dead, but that would be up to Ulfric to decide.
“Ice Veins, I thought I gave you something to do. Why do you bring these
children before me?” Ulfric demanded. He stared down from his throne at the man
who had become indispensable to his cause. Thin lipped displeasure shone on his
handsome face.
“Begging your pardon, my Jarl, but the Butcher is dead. I caught him in the act
of attacking this young woman here.” Kristof bent down on one knee before
Ulfric, adopting a dutiful posture.
“The Butcher? How can you be sure?”
“When he grabbed me, he was babbling about his dead sister. He recited some
kind of verse.” Kirsli spoke up. She met his gaze boldly before glancing down
at her to her feet.
“Who is he?” He had a perturbed look on his face. He leaned forth, his eyes
boring into Kristof.
“Calixto Corrium, my Jarl. What would you have done with his body?”
Ulfric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The families of his victims will demand
recompense. Have his home searched thoroughly. I want undeniable proof he was
the Butcher. If it is true, his body is to be taken to the Bloodworks and
burned, as befits a murderer.”
Kristof brought his fist to his chest, saluting Jarl Ulfric before he started
to walk away.
“Before you go, Ice Veins, see Jorleif for the posted reward for capture of the
murderer. You’ve earned it.”
Kristof inclined his head, “I may have been the one to kill the man, but I
believe the reward goes to her.” He motioned at Kirsli. “She fought him off
with weapon and fire, giving us the chance to rescue her. She is one brave
young woman.”
Ulfric turned his attention to Kirsli. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in
my city before. What brings you here?”
Kirsli licked her lips nervously. She wasn’t ready for the full scrutiny of the
Jarl.
“My name is Kirsli. I’m from Riften,” she replied softly. “I’m just visiting. I
needed to buy a special dress.”
He eyed her curiously. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“I did, but I didn’t think I’d end up almost killed. I thought Riften was
dangerous.”
“Did you come alone?”
“No, I came here with Balimund, the smith from Riften. I’m his… ” What should
she call herself. His ward? Cook and housekeeper? Apprentice. Someone who
longed to spend a lifetime at his side as his wife. She scoffed inwardly. That
would never happen. He claimed to not want her, but she was sure he had lied.
She had felt his arousal more than once. Even if all it was only physical she
knew it existed. But that wasn’t something she could blather to the Jarl. “I’m
his apprentice. He’s training me to be a blacksmith.”
“Where was he that he wasn’t around when you were attacked?”
Kirsli shrugged nonchalantly. She didn’t want to put her pain on display for
the Jarl. He didn’t need to know Balimund had turned her down in order to bed a
tavern wench. “At the inn. I wanted to see more of your city so I went out for
a walk and found her. She’s an orphan. What I did not expect to find was a
serial killer.”
A small smile flirted with his lips before he pressed them into a thin line.
His eyes hardened. “My men have been stretched thin with the war. It is
unfortunate that your impression of Windhelm will be forever colored by this.
Considering you were able to fend him off long enough for Ice Veins to arrive,
I commend you and offer you a place amongst the Stormcloaks. We have a need for
brave souls, true daughters of Skyrim such as yourself.”
One of the large palace doors flung open. Balimund came rushing in, his eyes
wild with panic.
“Kirsli!”
His voice boomed through the hall. He hustled his way up to her, grabbing her
shoulders. He looked her up and down, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of
the bruising on her neck. “Who did this? Are you hurt?”
Kirsli snorted. Now he was concerned about her. He hadn’t seemed too concerned
about her welfare when he neglected to look for her. Oh no, he was more
concerned with bedding the wench. Her teeth clenched. She pulled herself from
his grasp. There was a part of her that longed for his hands on her, but not
because of something like this.
“I’m fine, as you can see.” She tried to keep her composure, even though every
bit of her wanted to send him back to the wench he’d been with. She clenched
her jaw, hissing at him softly. “You stink of that whore!”
Balimund shook his head. He knew she wouldn’t let it go. She was just as angry
as before. Even more so he suspected since it led to her being attacked. He
knew she wouldn’t let him forget it.
“Are you the blacksmith she is apprenticed to?” Jarl Ulfric asked. He eyed them
both carefully, taking note of their body language.
His response was terse. “I am.”
Ulfric rubbed his chin, still sizing up the situation before him. “She is the
kind of fighter I am looking for to join my army. She’s young, full of zeal and
courage. With the right training, she could go far, maybe even become like Ice
Veins, one of my trusted officers. Surely seeing Skyrim free of Imperial rule
is worth the loss of an apprentice?”
Cold fury flashed through the blacksmith’s eyes. He may spend his days pounding
out weaponry that ultimately end up in the hands of Stormcloak soldiers, but he
would not see Kirsli as one of them. He already gave enough.
Balimund looked about the room, his gaze halting upon a familiar looking war
axe hanging off the belt of one of the guards within the hall. He motioned to
the guard. “Hand me your weapon, son,” he spoke up, walking a half dozen paces
over to the man stationed near one of the room exits. “I’ll give it back.”
The guard glanced from the man before him over to Jarl Ulfric, who slightly
inclined his head, then back at Balimund. He offered up his weapon, allowing
the smith to make his way back to Ulfric’s throne. He displayed it for the
Jarl, pointing to an engraving in the steel. “This is my mark. My blood and
sweat are poured into every weapon I forge. I think I give enough to your
cause. I will not give up my apprentice.”
An impressed grin graced Ulfric’s face. “Then consider yourself fortunate you
are Jarl Laila’s smith and not mine. You do good work. Keep it up and when I am
the High King, you shall be rewarded for your contribution to Skyrim’s fight
for freedom.”
Kristof came out of the nearby war room, holding in his grasp a good sized
pouch. He handed it to Kirsli. “The reward for the capture of the Butcher. You
should have it. And perhaps you would grant me permission to call upon you.”
Her throat went dry. “I would like that.”
A satisfied smile crossed her face. A very handsome man who wasn’t very much
older than she had just expressed an interest in her. It was a pleasant end to
a difficult day. Furthermore, two could play the game.
***** Gravitas *****
Chapter Summary
     Kirsli and Balimund have a serious heart-to-heart talk. Fluffiness
     ensues.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter was hard to write... I had so much trouble with it. I
     had so many ideas and none of the ones I thought would make it into
     the chapter actually did make it. The muse took off in a whole
     different direction. I think it turned out so much better!
     Inspiration for the chapter came from the song "Gravity" by Papa
     Roach. Hence, the title Gravitas (which means seriousness, solemnity
     in demeanor or treatment; importance).
     Special thanks to my lovely beta, alyssacousland, who kept after me
     to finish this chapter. For all the chats, the words of
     encouragement, and just being there.
     Comments are appreciated!
Chapter_Fifteen:_Gravitas
~
You love me You hate me
You kiss me You break me
You lifted me up just to watch as you dropped me
You promised me – looked me straight in the eyes
No matter what you say – I don't know the truth from the lies
I held you up like I always do
I forgave you for your sins and I carried you through
No matter how hard we fall
We always knew
You will bleed for me, and I will bleed for you
~ Gravity – Papa Roach feat. Maria Brink ~
~*~
Kirsli stowed the reward money in a small pack then headed for the palace doors
with Sofie trotting along behind her. She just wanted to return to the inn.
Sleep would be nice. She really didn’t want to listen to any excuses either, or
anything else Balimund had to say at the moment. It did surprise her, however,
when he followed her back to the inn.
Once in the room he’d rented for the night, Kirsli ushered Sofie into the small
bed. The little girl looked as tired as she did. This was probably the first
time in some time that she’d actually had a bed to sleep in. Kirsli didn’t
mind. She knew she could help keep Sofie warm.
Balimund joined them in the room. The expression on his face suggested he
wanted to talk to her, but there was nothing he had to say that she wanted to
hear at the moment. She seemed content to ignore him. He could tell by the way
she climbed into the bed and turned her back to him.
The presence of the little girl made him curious. Where had she come from? And
just what did Kirsli intend to do with her? If the little girl was an orphan
then the best thing for her would be to go to Honorhall. Hopefully she’d find a
new family. According to Asbjorn, there had been several adoptions since
Constance had taken over running the orphanage.
He exited the room for a short while. When he returned he had a cot. He placed
it in front of  the door, blocking entrance or exit. If anyone wanted to get at
Kirsli, they’d have to go through him first. The attack on her angered him. He
hadn’t been there to protect her. All because he had chosen to take care of his
needs for once. He knew what she would say when and if they talked about it.
Fought about it, more than likely. She never would’ve been out at night in an
unfamiliar city if he had taken her up on her offer. Yet he knew had he done
so, things would be much worse. He just hoped she would see that… once she
calmed down.
He wasn’t counting on it.
~*~
Breakfast proved to be a silent affair. When she did speak to him, her
responses were short and clipped. Much to his surprise, she repaid him back the
gold he had spent on the dress from the reward she was given. When he had said
it wasn’t necessary, that he had wanted to buy the dress for her and he wanted
her to keep the gold, she shot him a look that silenced his protests. It was
more than obvious to him she wasn’t having any of it.
Once breakfast was done, they stood up to leave and since Sofie had turned into
Kirsli’s shadow, grabbing at her tunic anxiously at times, Balimund followed
behind them to the carriage which would carry them back home. He still wanted
to talk to Kirsli about the little girl. Hopefully she would answer him in more
than monosyllables, but the feeling in his gut told him otherwise.
He had been harsh to her. He knew that. What he had said had cut deep. It was
for her own good. He didn’t know how else to convince her. She could do better,
be more. He still believed she’d thank him in the long run.
If only he could convince himself of that as well.
She was too smart. She saw right through him. She knew he had lied. It was his
fault. He had given her too many mixed signals.
By the grace of Mara, I hope she forgives me…someday.
He stole one last wistful look, burning into memory how she looked in this
moment. His beautiful Kirsli, in full bloom. He’d hold onto it, keeping it
close to his heart. He had a feeling what returning to Riften would bring. He
wasn’t looking forward to it.
It was for the best.
He shook off his melancholy and paid the driver the fare for the ride back to
Riften. He noted how she sat as far as she could from him, on the opposite
bench, keeping the little girl close. They talked amongst themselves. Mostly it
was Kirsli pointing things out to Sofie, who couldn’t contain her excitement at
seeing so many new things.
Passing by the tundra, Kirsli pointed out one of the large lumbering tundra
dwellers. “Look at that, Sofie.”

Sofie’s eyes widened in awe, “What is that?”
“That is a mammoth. Can you see its tusks? The giants carve symbols into them.
I found a mammoth tusk once and gave it to Madesi. He’s an Argonian merchant in
Riften who makes the prettiest jewelry.”
Sofie’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Why did he need a tusk? Is it jewelry?”
Kirsli laughed softly. “No, silly goose, tusks are made out of ivory and Madesi
told me he could use it for the inlays on his amulets. Do you know what an
amulet is?”
Sofie shook her head. “What is an am-u-let?”
“A special kind of necklace that is often enchanted with magic.” Kirsli
concentrated for a few seconds, drawing from her magicka. She produced a small
flame in her palm. “Like this.”
Sofie’s eyes grew as large as saucers as she stared at the fire, “Can you teach
me to make fire?”
Balimund kept his smile to himself, but he was beaming on the inside. “Where
did you find the little girl, Kirs?”
Her eyes flashed. Oh, now he asks.She wanted to ignore him, pretend she didn’t
hear him.
“Begging.” She crossed her arms. “In the cold near the Grey Quarter.”
He rubbed his chin, his gaze softening. “Are you taking her to Honorhall? It
would be best. You of all people know how rough Riften can be on the innocent.”
Kirsli rolled her eyes at his platitudes. Did he think her stupid? Or
heartless? Of course she knew what Riften was like. She sneered in response,
her words coming out in a hiss. “No, I thought I’d toss her to the Guild.”
“Kirsli!”
Anger painted her cheeks a bright shade of red. “Do not ‘Kirsli’ me in that
tone! And quit treating me like a child. I’ve had enough of it. Sofie and I
were talking. You didn’t need to stick your nose into it!”
Balimund pressed his lips into a thin line of disapproval. With one brow
arched, he pinned a glare upon her. Yes, she was angry. There was a time and
place for everything. Now wasn’t the time to air their dirty laundry.
He looked away, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to argue with her, not here.
The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence. For him, at least.
Kirsli and Sofie chatted softly amongst themselves, though Kirsli made several
furtive glances his way. He had noticed, though. He could feel her eyes upon
her. He glanced her way and she quickly looked away, hiding the soft doe-eyed
expression.
As soon as the gates of Riften came into view, he was ready to jump out of the
wagon. He needed to put some space between them, if only for a little while.
The inevitable blow up was coming. He could feel it in the pit of his gut.
~*~
Constance welcomed Sofie to Honorhall with open arms. She hugged the little
girl and told her everything would be alright, then ushered her off for a warm
bath and had a clean dress, new shoes and a hot meal ready for her when she was
finished.
Sofie beamed a smile at the other children, who were all eager to meet her. Out
of the ten children that lived in the orphanage before Kirsli had come of age,
only Aventus, Hroar, and Runa remained. There were, however, new faces. Two
sisters, Britte and Sissell, had come to Honorhall recently. Their father had
died when a dragon attacked Rorikstead.
There was also a boy from Dawnstar, Alesan, whose father had been a sailor.
Alesan ended up alone when his father had succumbed to a fever. He did odd jobs
around the inn and for the ship captains who docked in Dawnstar, but it was
never enough. He was always cold and hungry at the end of each day. Salvation
had come in the form of a kind traveling merchant who brought him to Honorhall.
Before Kirsli left Honorhall, she hugged Sofie and promised she’d see her soon.
Then she headed straight for the Scorched Hammer. Her stomach felt uneasy. She
could feel it in her gut that something was about to happen. Nervous energy had
her shaking. She clenched her fists tightly to stop it. She knew Balimund would
more than likely have a thing or two to say to her. She wasn’t sure she was
ready for it, but she had to face it.
~*~
“We need to talk.”
The seriousness of Balimund’s expression left no doubt in Kirsli’s mind of what
was to come. She nodded then excused herself long enough to change her clothes
and splash some water on her face. She was stalling, delaying the inevitable.
Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest.
Just get it over with.
Butterflies danced in the pit of her belly. She wasn’t sure why she felt so…
anxious. She wasn’t the guilty one, wasn’t the one who should apologize for her
actions.
Or maybe she should.
Perspiration broke out on her upper lip.
Just get it over with.
Maybe it won’t be that bad. Maybe it would be. She’d never know until she faced
it. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, desperately trying to calm her
nerves. It was just Balimund… who meant everything to her. Any condemnation
from him would be too much to bear.
She found him sitting in front of the hearth, staring blindly into the flames.
With no other place to sit, she perched herself on his lap and wrapped her arms
around his shoulders, just as she had done so many times before. She then
buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. His
arms came around her, gently stroking her back.
“What are we going to do, honey?” His voice was soft and contrite. “You’re
killing me. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Kirsli sniffled, desperately holding the tears at bay. “Why did you lie to me?”
He sighed deeply. He knew she would ask that. He thought he’d be prepared to
answer. He thought wrong.  “I thought it would be for the best. You deserve so
much more than what I could give you. You should have the world laid at your
feet.”
“Humphf,” she scoffed as she looked him straight in the eyes. “I don’t want the
world.”
You are my world. Why can’t you see it?
He touched her face, caressing her soft skin. He knew his hands were rough, and
tried to be gentle as possible. “You think you don’t, but you have no idea what
is out there. At least consider schooling. I want you to follow your dream to
go the College of Winterhold.”
“That’s not the only dream I have.”
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as several emotions assailed him.
Pride. Admiration. Love.
Despair. Longing.
Disbelief.
Doubt.
“Kirsli… honey… You don’t know what you’re asking. I care too much for you. I
don’t want to hurt you.” He captured her chin in his grasp and ran his thumb
across her supple lips. Need tore through him.
He was a fool to lead her on.
Yet he’d be an even bigger one if he let her get away.
Her dual colored eyes glittered with unshed tears. An ache filled the center of
her chest. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me more than you already have. You run
hot one minute and cold the next. It’s so confusing.  And I don’t know why? Why
you felt you had to say what you said. Why you lied to me.”
She hiccuped as the tears spilled down her cheeks. He brushed them away, hating
himself for causing them.
“I still believe you deserve better. You could be more. As for why I said what
I did… I thought it would push you away, convince you to back off. Instead it
nearly got you killed. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.” His voice
cracked and he looked away, adding guilt to the growing list of emotions he
felt.
She licked her lips, “I shouldn’t have been out on the streets that late. I
should’ve known better. I just couldn’t bear being around the inn knowing that
wench had what I wanted, what I practically begged for.” More tears slipped
down her cheeks. “You didn’t mean what you said, did you?”
He shook his head, “No, Kirsli. You are perfect the way you are and in a few
years, I imagine you will be utterly breathtaking. You could have any man you
wanted.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing the long strands
away from her bruised neck. He skimmed his fingers over the marks made by the
Butcher’s stranglehold and imagined just how scared she must have been. “I
doubt you care to hear it, and I won’t blame you if you get angry, but that
whole evening all I could think about was you.”
Kirsli frowned. “Even during…”
“Especially during.”
She growled in outrage and punched his shoulder as hard as she could. He let
out an ‘oof’ of surprise followed up by an ‘oww.’ “Then you shouldn’t have
turned me down. And you shouldn’t have told me I wasn’t what you wanted. And if
it falls off, don’t come crying to me!”
He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. She was a glorious spitfire.
“Honey, I apologize for hurting you, but even if I hadn’t made plans with
Susanna, I still would’ve said no –” She started to interrupt him, but he
placed a finger over her lips, shushing her softly. “Just hear me out. Nothing
would’ve happened last night for the simple fact that I would rather wait until
you are older, even if it’s a few years. I want you to experience life, see
what’s out there and then if you still feel as you do now, we can make a go of
it… whatever itis. Sound fair?”
Kirsli shifted her position, moving from sitting across his lap to straddling
it. She gazed into his eyes, noting the sincerity in them. He meant what he
said.This wasn’t a lie. “Sounds fair,” she replied then rested her head on his
shoulder. She wanted so much more, but this would suffice for the moment.
He embraced her, holding her tightly. He didn’t want to let her go. She felt so
good in his arms. It had to be enough for now.
And in that moment, hope reigned supreme.
~*~
Aria arrived back in Riften a couple hours later, bringing two wagon-loads of
furniture and home furnishings with her right up to the door of the Scorched
Hammer. Balimund recruited Asbjorn and an off-duty Guardsman Sigfrost to help
him, Kirsli and Aria unload and get it all into the house.
It took them a while to get everything in place, but when it was finished
Balimund barely recognized the house he’d live in for many years. She had
included woven wall hangings, wreaths, and lace doilies along with all the
furniture. He and Kirsli both were gifted with feather beds. She brought a
small dinner table with four ornately carved chairs. There was a fine china
dish set, the likes of which a Jarl would use. Not to mention the silver tea
set. She had replaced the ruined grindstone in the basement with a new one, and
had set up a small shrine to Kynareth on a table in the main room. Aria had
even brought him a new safe with an heavy duty lock so he could replace the one
that had broken into.
Finally she gave him a large chest of raw materials, dragon bone and dragon
scale, ebony and gold ore with a list of what she wanted for each housecarl.
Full suits of armor, helms, a greatsword plus a longsword, war axe and shield
made to match the armor.  She also promised that she’d bring Lydia to Riften so
he could take her measurements for the armor as soon as her business in Riften
was finished.
Balimund now knew why she gave him the amount of gold as she had for the
commissions. There would be a hell of a lot of work involved. He was eager to
work with the dragon bone, however. It would give him an edge over all the
other so-called “best smith” in Skyrim.
~*~
Before Aria left and headed back to the Bee and Barb for the night, she sought
Kirsli out. Finding her in the basement scrubbing dirty laundry in a basin,
Aria softly cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I thought we could have a little chat.”
Kirsli glanced up at the Aria, a soft snort taking the place of the soft tune
she had been humming.
“You probably think that you don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but all
I ask is that you listen.”
Kirsli nodded reluctantly, pushing away from the tub full of warm water, lye
soap and scrubbing board.
Aria took a few steps toward the younger woman, “I know you don’t like me, and
I can’t say that I blame you. It’s obvious to me that you think I’m going to
steal what is yours. Rest assured, I won’t. I think of Balimund as a friend, a
good friend, and I’d like to be able to call you friend as well.”
“On our way to Windhelm, we saw a few of the Companions fighting a giant.
Balimund said one of them was Farkas, your fiancé.” Kirsli commented softly.
“He saw Farkas? He didn’t tell me that,” Aria made a face. She missed Farkas
very much and couldn’t wait to return to Whiterun. She wanted to hold him tight
and kiss his handsome face before she dragged him off to a bed.
“I think he was with Athis and Torvar.” She flashed a thoughtful look.
Aria nodded, “Yeah, those are the whelps that Farkas usually takes out hunting.
Vilkas prefers taking Ria out, but lately it’s been Ria and Njada. Or Njada
will go hunting with Aela.” She let loose a wistful sigh. “You probably aren’t
interested in hearing about the Companions.”
Kirsli bobbed her head from one shoulder to the other, “They sound interesting.
Watching them fight that giant and some sabre cats certainly was exciting.
Makes me wish I knew how to fight. It would have come in handy when I was
attacked last night in Windhelm by a madman. They called him ‘The Butcher’
because he had killed a few other women.”
“A killer in Windhelm, you say?” Aria raised a finely sculptured brow and
rubbed her chin. “I recall Vignar talking about that a while back. He had said
a daughter from both the Cruel Seas and the Shatter Shields had been victims;
that both families had lived in Windhelm for generations. I think Vignar was
hoping the Companions would look into the matter since none of the city’s
guards had a clue who was behind the killings. It’s no secret Vignar supports
Ulfric’s side. I have cautioned him in the matter of his allegiance, reminding
him the Companions are to remain neutral in the war. Ah, listen to me ramble
on.”
Obviously Kirsli’s hint had flown right over Aria’s head, or maybe the
Dragonborn had intentionally ignored her. She was determined, however. One way
or another she’d learn how to defend herself. “So do the Companions teach
unskilled warriors how to fight? Train them to be better.”
“Definitely, even the members of the Inner Circle train every day. It keeps our
skills sharp.”
It was now or never. Besides it couldn’t hurt. Maybe even build some good
rapport. “Balimund gave me a dagger for protection, but I really don’t know how
to use it. Could you show me? I want to be able to defend myself.”
Aria gave her a wide smile. “I can, but there are a few things you need to
learn first. Knowing when to fight is as important as knowing how. Learning to
defend yourself is all well and good, but when you’re in a real fight, a life
or death fight, you can’t second guess yourself. It’s either you or them. And
on top of that, taking a life, whether they be innocent or not, is serious
business. Once it’s gone, it’s not coming back and it’s a mark on your soul.”
Kirsli’s expression sobered as she struggled to understand the gravitas of what
Aria had said. She knew there was a whole world of wisdom in those words. There
was much that Aria had experienced as the Harbinger and as the Dragonborn.
“Balimund has said the same thing to me before, the knowing when part.
Especially when I stray too close to Faldar’s Tooth.”
“You really should listen to him. The wisdom he’s gained has come from life
experience. There is no better teacher than that. We can train a little bit
tomorrow morning. Furthermore, I’ve heard you are interested in the College of
Winterhold. I can help you get there if you’d like.”
Kirsli eyed Aria speculatively. “How so?”
“I can sponsor you to a finishing school, the very same one I went to, in the
Imperial City. Once you graduate from finishing school, the possibilities are
endless, if you do well. You could enroll in the Arcane University, or the
College of Winterhold. Then if you’d like, you have a standing invitation to
join the Companions. I think we would benefit from having a mage around. But
that is only if you are interested.”
“I’ll think about it, the Companions part. I would, however, like to know more
about the school.” Her face lit up and her interest piqued. There was so much
she wanted to hear.
“The school is called Madame Aurelia’s School of Etiquette.”
Aria beamed. She had her. Hook, line and sinker…
~*~
Balimund decided to take both Kirsli and Aria out for supper at the Bee and
Barb. It had been quite the day so far and knew a fitting end would be to spend
it with two women he greatly cared about. Talking to Kirsli had taken a great
weight off his mind and chest. He felt happier getting it out in the open.
She was happier as well. When she smiled it was breathtaking. He knew it would
all work out for the best. She was now considering attending the finishing
school Aria had spoke of. And the two of them were getting along well.
Something was right for once.
Talen-Jei placed their meals on the table, bidding them a pleasant evening.
Just as Balimund was about to tuck into his food, he noticed Farkas step into
the inn’s common room. He smiled knowing Aria was in for a surprise. He didn’t
want to ruin it for her.
The Companion made it halfway across the room before Aria turned around in her
seat. She squealed and hopped out of her seat, meeting him in the middle of the
room and throwing her arms around him. “FARKAS!”
He lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around, before bestowing a
passionate kiss upon her. “I missed you, love,” he murmured against her lips.
“Where’s your room?”
Aria grabbed up her plate and drink then led Farkas upstairs. It was very clear
to both Kirsli and Balimund they wouldn’t see Aria for the rest of the night.
Balimund leaned in, “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”
Kirsli grinned, chuckling softly. “You won’t hear me complain.”
He covered her hand with one of his, caressing it softly and this time he
didn’t care who saw or heard them. Let the gossips wag their tongues. He was
through pretending.
***** Fulfillment *****
Chapter Summary
     Kirsli gets what she wants.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter I have to label NSFW, for underage sex, lots of heavy
     petting and frottage. Oh, and also fluffiness.
     I also want to say thank you so very much to everyone who has read,
     lurked, commented and given kudos, who have taken this journey with
     me and Kirsli. I appreciate all the comments and the kudos. Feel free
     to leave me feedback. Let me know if you are enjoying the story so
     far, what you like, what you don't like and anything I could do to
     make the story better.
     Special thanks go out to my best friend and awesome beta
     alyssacousland for all the encouragement and for always being there!
     Love ya!
Chapter_Sixteen:_Fulfillment
After Kirsli and Balimund finished their meals, he escorted her home. It had
been a long tiring day on many levels and all he wanted to do was relax. He
also knew they’d be just as busy tomorrow, which was Loredas. Keerava and
Talen-Jei’s engagement party would be held at the Bee and Barb in the evening.
Before then he planned to get a start on Aria’s commissions. He wouldn’t spend
the whole day at the forge, just a few hours in the morning and early
afternoon.
He knew he’d have to speak to Aria. With her fiancé present in Riften, he
figured he wouldn’t be her date to the party. That freed him up to take Kirsli,
which he knew would please her. Kirsli had mentioned Aria had promised to spar
with her in the morning. He could talk to her then. Hopefully Farkas had
brought the pelts. He would have Kirsli cure them as another lesson. They could
then be turned into very nice fur cloaks, which he could sell for a decent
profit.
Once he’d locked the house up for the night, he took a seat in front of the
fire to relax. Kirsli joined him, sitting on his lap. He flashed a smile at her
as he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his shoulder,
sighing softly.
“What’s on your mind, honey?”
Kirsli shook her head before yawning, “I think the day has caught up with me.
That feather bed is calling my name. I just don’t want to get up.”
“That could be a problem, Kirs.”
“You should carry me.”
He chuckled, “I see how you are. What do I get if I do?” He had to tease her.
It was probably wrong, but he just couldn’t stop himself.
Kirsli rolled her eyes mirthfully. They twinkled in amusement.  She tossed his
words back at him. “Is that how it is? I see how you are.” She nuzzled her face
against his neck, planting a kiss just below his ear.
Desire coursed through him. He bit his lip to stifle a moan. Teasing her was a
bad idea. He wanted what he couldn’t have too much.
She seemed to know what he was thinking. “Fine, you don’t have to. I guess
that’s why I have legs and feet, to walk there on my own. And here I was about
to offer you a massage.”
Balimund stood up, lifting her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
He placed her on the feather bed then sat down on the edge. “Make you a deal,”
he winked. “I’ll let you sleep here in my bed with me tonight if you rub my
shoulders. Sound fair?”
“Oh, so that’s why you carried me in here, huh? Is that your nefarious plan?”
Kirsli giggled as she wiggled her eyebrows. She did want to sleep beside him
again. What she didn’t want was to sound too eager. That always got her in
trouble.
Balimund let loose a boisterous laugh. “Nefarious?” The laughter sobered after
a few moments. “Ah, honey, I would never take advantage of you. You know that.
What can I say? Having you next to me the other night felt good. It felt
right.”
Kirsli’s heart pounded in her chest, sending her blood racing willy-nilly, only
to settle into a pool of heat in her loins. She gazed at him with that soft
doe-eyed look in her eyes. There was so much she wanted, that she dared to hope
for. That he had allowed her to be this close and wanted more in the future was
more than she had ever expected. It made her want more now. It made her bold.
She pushed herself to her knees, kneeling behind him, and rested her hands on
his shoulders. “Let’s get this tunic off of you then. It’ll be easier for me to
work.”
He raised an eyebrow, mirth dancing in his eyes as he held in a laugh. “If I
said that to a female, I’d end up getting slapped for my trouble.”
She giggled, “Well, I won’t slap you.”
Balimund let loose the laugh he’d been holding and removed his tunic, tossing
it onto the small dresser nearby. He positioned himself face down on the bed,
groaning softly as she straddled his buttocks. What he wouldn’t give to be on
his back with her straddling his hips?
Kirsli went to work on his back, kneading his shoulder muscles, working out the
knots before moving down his back. He let out a grunt as she found a few tight
muscles between his shoulder blades. But it felt wonderful as she worked her
lower palm into his flesh, relieving the ache.  She moved lower still, down his
spine to his hips, finding more tightness in his lower back. She worked them
out, but not without eliciting more grunts and groans from Balimund.
Her ministrations, however, caused another ache. He bit his lip, groaning, as
his cock had hardened to the point where he swore he could hammer nails with
it. Not that he’d want to, though. He’d be more inclined to pound it into her.
He gritted his teeth, willing it to go down.
Kirsli, who had been listening to his every noise, guessed what was going on.
She pressed her body flush to his back, brushing his hair back from his ear.
“Let me take care of you,” she murmured softly.
Balimund closed his eyes, moaning softly. Her offer put him in a difficult
position. As much as he wanted to say yes, he knew it would be wrong. She had
to keep pushing. He knew she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted.
“Kirsli, we−”
“Shhh, I want to. It’s what we both want. Just let me take care of you. It
doesn’t have to go any further than that.” The softness of her voice and the
sincerity in her eyes made him believe her.
She slipped from his back, allowing him to roll to his side. He propped up his
head with his hand, watching her like a hawk. She licked her lips, moving
closer to him, as butterflies fluttered in the pit of her belly. It’s just
Balimund, she repeated over and over in her head. She had been so self-assured
a moment ago. Now she wasn’t so sure what she should do. She’d had a couple
bastards sate themselves upon her body, but this went beyond anything she’d
experienced.
“What’s wrong, Kirsli?” He murmured. He noticed her hesitation. “You don’t have
to do this. I’ll be fine.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, “I want to. I just… I don’t know
what you like.”
It warmed his heart and aroused him even more that she wanted to please him.
“Ah, honey.” His voice dropped an octave to a low purr. He grasped her hand,
bringing it up to his lips, and planted a kiss on the back of it. “It can wait.
Let’s just get some sleep.”
Disappointment flooded her features. She thrust her lower lip out in a pout.
Her petulance only served to arouse Balimund further. He groaned aloud,
shifting his position until he lay flat on his back. Kirsli knew if anything
was to happen, she’d have to let go of her uncertainty. She closed her eyes and
inhaled a deep breath. Then she went for it.
She pulled her tunic over her head, tossing it to the floor then she wiggled
out of her trousers, throwing them to the floor also. She straddled his thighs
and rested her hands against his shoulders. As she leaned in, her long hair
fell around her like a curtain. The ends brushed his chest, tickling it softly.
Balimund groaned, feeling like he was about to explode.
Kirsli quivered, her nipples hardened like dagger points. Wetness soaked her
smallclothes, tingling and leaving her breathless. She bucked her hips,
grinding into his erection, eliciting a moan from both of them.
“Kirs,” he managed through the heavy panting. “Lift up, sweetie.”
He knew he wouldn’t last long. He had wanted this too badly and had denied
himself for far too long. He swore, though, the next time would be a whole
different story. He’d have her beneath him, writhing and screaming, fingernails
shredding the bedding from the passion pumping through her.
She obliged him quickly, allowing him to push his trousers down his hips. Once
he had kicked them off, she settled back into position. Only their smallclothes
separated bare flesh. He caressed her as gently as he could, running his hands
up and down her back before settling on her hips, directing her movement. She
writhed against him, her breath coming out in gasps. Her nails dug sharply into
his shoulders. He hissed at the pain.
His cock jerked, ready to burst out of his smalls, nudging against her thighs.
He thrust up against her, drawing her down to his chest. He captured her lips,
bestowing upon her a passionate kiss. He parted her lips, letting his tongue
slip inside. She tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back.
He removed her breastband, tossing it aside. Her bare breasts sprang free and
his piercing gaze dropped to them. Growling, he licked his lips and grasped the
soft spheres with a gentleness that made her feel cherished. His work worn
hands curved around her pale flesh, his thumbs flicking over the pink nipples.
They tightened to hard points and gooseflesh rose on her creamy skin. He wasted
no time, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples. The tip of his tongue
traced it lovingly, then he sucked it into his mouth. She reveled in the fact
that this man, who made her ache with a mere glance, now sucked on her
sensitive nub. She cried out, feeling her wetness soak her smalls. Her heart
beat so hard and so fast, she feared it might burst through her chest.
Never before had Kirsli felt like this. She shuddered from head to toe as
passion surged through her body. He continued licking and sucking her nipple
until it became so sensitive that every swipe of his tongue sent waves of
pleasure through her entire body.
“Balimund,” she cried, writhing against him. Boldly, she ran her hand down his
body, moving it between them and slipping inside his smallclothes. She closed
her fingers around his cock.
Balimund moaned as an expression of pure pleasure filled his handsome features.
He buried his face in her cleavage as his member pulsed in her hand. Kirsli
stroked him, marveling at how long and thick he was. She could barely get her
fingers around him. His cock jerked in her grasp. He panted, murmuring her
name.
He rolled her flat on her back, putting her beneath him before ripping her
smalls off of her as well as his own. He settled into the juncture of her wet
thighs, hooking her legs over his shoulders. Kirsli slipped her hands up his
arms, her fingers digging into the thick muscle of his biceps. She could feel
him trembling, the thick muscle that ran from his shoulder to his neck
twitching beneath her calves. His chest heaved, the solid wall of muscle
grazing the hard tips of her breasts with every breath.
Balimund grunted and groaned. Kirsli panted and moaned. Their bodies pressed
together in a sweaty dance that pushed all rational thought from their heads. 
Kirsli’s flesh was swollen, her engorged lips and sensitive clit grinding
against Balimund’s thick cock. She had never felt such pleasure before, her
need spiraling out of control. He captured her lips, sucked on her tongue, the
shaft of his cock rubbing her clit as he rutted against her. She jerked, and
stiffened, as pleasure peaked, her nails drawing blood.
He kissed her roughly, his tongue invading her mouth. His hips pistoned, his
cock rubbing against her more vigorously. Heat raced through his veins like
fire, scorching him, urging him to take more. Balimund ground against her,
beginning to shake in her arms. “Kirsli, honey,” he murmured. “I’m gonna …”
He cried out then, his hard body shaking and trembling with the force of his
orgasm. At the gush of his seed against her belly, Kirsli moaned loudly. Her
eyes slammed shut as stars fell behind her eyelids. She held him tightly,
feeling him shudder.
The room was silent but for the sound of their harsh breathing. Balimund held
most of his weight off of her with his forearms, but Kirsli could feel him
shaking with the effort. She kissed the hard line of his jaw and he groaned.
“Honey,” he whispered as he lay on his side and drew her against his chest.
“Hmmm,” she murmured softly, snuggling against him.
“If this keeps up, you may be the death of me,” he chuckled as he pulled the
blankets over both of them then closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.
~*~
When Kirsli woke the next morning, she was alone in the bed. She rubbed her
face, feeling disheartened to not find Balimund next to her. She had hoped to
wake up still in his arms. She pushed herself into an upright position, softly
moaning at the tingle emanating from her nether parts. The night before had
been so glorious she wanted a repeat this morning. He’d finally kissed her,
touched her in the most delicious ways. And she had done the same to him.
Nothing could be better than that… Well, almost nothing. There was much she
hadn’t experienced with him.
And as much as she wanted to be a lay-about, she had too much to do today. Aria
had promised to teach her a few things about fighting. She also wanted to visit
Sofie. Not to mention getting ready for the party this evening. A frown crossed
her face, dampening her excitement. She still didn’t have a date. She supposed
she’d have to finally pick from one of the men who’d asked her, providing any
of the offers still stood.  She didn’t want any of them, though.
She perked up as she heard footsteps coming into the room. She rested against
the headboard and pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts. A smile broke out
on her face as she saw Balimund. He sat on the edge on the bed beside her. He
was holding a tray full of food.
“Good morning, honey,” he said softly. “I thought you might like breakfast in
bed.”
Kirsli gazed down at the plate he’d brought her, feeling warmth course through
her as he placed a kiss on her brow. Her mouth watered at the sight of the bowl
of porridge and snowberry scones before her. She dug in, humming at the taste
of cinnamon and nutmeg in the porridge. Her eyes lit up and her smile widened.
“I love it.”
“There is also a bath waiting for you downstairs. We probably should’ve cleaned
up last night before falling asleep, but I was too tired to move.” Warmth
filled his eyes as he watched her eat.  “I’m not going to second guess what
happened. I regret nothing. It was beautiful. You are beautiful. I guess it
took me longer to see what you knew all along.”
“So I won’t say I told you so,” she snickered, pride shining in her eyes. “I
will say, however, I was a little upset when I woke and you weren’t beside me.
This makes up for it. It’s delicious.”
He smiled, “I wanted to treat you. You’ve taken such good care of me since you
moved in here. It’s the least I can do, sweetie. Besides I want this to be a
wonderful day for you. That said, would you do me the honor of being my date
for the party tonight?”
Kirsli’s face lit up brighter, “Yes!” She dropped her spoon and threw her arms
around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. She drew back, pursing her lips,
“But what about Aria?”
He chuckled, “I spoke to her a little while ago. We agreed it would be for the
best if we broke off the date. Farkas is escorting her. And there is no one
else that I’d rather have at my side, honey. Just you.”
Kirsli’s heart soared with happiness. This was the best day of her life… so
far… and she didn’t want it to end.
~*~
Balimund outfitted Kirsli with a suit of studded leather armor he’d made
specifically for her and gave her a beautifully crafted elven dagger he’d also
made. She squealed when she laid eyes on the pieces, hugging and kissing him.
Aria met up with Kirsli at the forge, dressed in her wolf armor. Farkas was
with her, wearing his wolf armor as well. “Jarl Laila is graciously allowing us
to use the keep’s training yard for this morning’s lesson. Of course that could
be because I just purchased Honeyside and filled her coffers with a large sum
of gold. So why don’t we get to it?”
Farkas cleared his throat, gaining Kirsli’s attention. "I hope you brought a
weapon with you. We can teach you, but know this. The weapons you have are
real, and we will always use real weapons for your training. You cannot learn
how to fight when you don't have to fear getting hurt."
Aria started by showing her the basics, working her through weapons forms. Then
she showed her how the dual wield the daggers, as well as a dagger in one hand
and a spell in the other.
Aria and Farkas put her through her paces, instructing her on the proper way to
block, parry and feint.
“You’re doing great, Kirsli.” Aria nodded approvingly. "Now, what I want you to
do is practice with the training dummy over there. It's not as easy to hit as
it seems. Try to land ten solid blows on it."
"I’ll do my best!" Kirsli beamed, and moved to stand in front of the practice
dummy. She gripped both her daggers in her hands, testing the feel of their
weight. They didn't feel too heavy for her or too light. She focused on the
combat form before her, and her mind flickered through a series of images until
it came to rest on one particular image.
She swung with all her might, envisioning Maul standing before her. The blade
sliced through thin air, missing the dummy by mere inches. She growled in
frustration and tried again to no avail.
What am I doing wrong?
"Focus, Kirsli, focus." Aria shouted from the sidelines. "Harness your fury and
direct it into your strike. You are far too easy to read. You are projecting
your aggression and if you were facing a real opponent, he would be able to
guess your next move just by reading your body language. Now try again."
Kirsli sucked in a deep breath and stood before the dummy. She tried her best
to follow Aria's words and swung her dagger. To her surprise, she landed a
solid blow against it. The impact of the strike rattled her momentarily, but
she recovered quickly.
"One!" Aria called out, beginning the count. Kirsli swung again, hitting the
dummy, causing a chip of wood to fly off. "Two!"
It took several more minutes and many cries of frustration before Aria had
counted to "Ten!"
Kirsli sucked down in deep breath as she walked over to Aria.
"Perseverance, Kirsli. Stick with it and you will garner the results you want.
You did well. That was no easy task." Aria praised her. “We can train again
tomorrow morning. Maybe if you feel confident enough, you can spar against one
of us.”
"Thank you," Kirsli replied, favoring her wrist. There was a lot more to
learning how to fight than she wielding a blade or magic. It was much more
physically demanding than she ever would’ve guessed, and yet warriors like Aria
and Farkas made it look so easy. “I’d like that.”
“Good. It’s a pleasure to teach.” Aria smiled. “If you’d like, I can come over
before the party and help you fix your hair. I also have cosmetics as well.”
“I would like that.” She stowed her daggers then skipped off, heading back for
the Scorched Hammer. She changed out of her armor, dressing in a pair of
trousers and a tunic. She then headed to Honorhall to look in on Sofie.
The little girl fit in nicely, playing jump rope in the small yard with Britte
and Sissell.
“I know it’s only been a day, but how’s she doing?” Kirsli asked Constance
quietly as they watched all the children play in the yard. While the girls
jumped rope, Asbjorn was busy with the boys building a fort.
“She’s settled in quite well. After she’d eaten and bathed, she immediately
started playing with the other girls. They played with their dolls for most of
the evening.” Constance replied. “I’m glad you brought her to me. The thought
of her being out in the cold… No child should have to go through that.”
“I’m glad I found her. I knew she’d be better off here.”
~*~
A couple hours before the party began Aria met Kirsli at the Scorched Hammer,
bringing with her a knapsack. “Now let’s get you ready for this shindig. When I
am done with you, that handsome smith out there won’t know what hit him.”
Aria took her time, brushing out Kirsli’s silky red hair, twisting it into a
sleek chignon. From her pack she removed a silk and lace set of smallclothes,
complete with garter belt and stockings from Kirsli to wear beneath her new
dress. “A lady should always have pretty underthings,” she wiggled her eyebrows
suggestively, eliciting a grin from Kirsli.
She helped Kirsli into the underthings before artfully applying the cosmetics
to enhance Kirsli’s natural beauty. Then assisted her getting into the gorgeous
gold dress she’d purchased in Windhelm. Lastly, she slipped into a pair of
dainty shoes with a small heel and added the jewelry that matched the dress.
“You are so pretty. Balimund won’t be able to peel his eyes from you.” Aria
predicted. “I hope you have a great time tonight. Now I have to get ready. I’ll
see both you and Balimund at the Bee and Barb. Afterwards, both of you are
invited over to Honeyside. We can, perhaps, have a few drinks on the back porch
overlooking the lake. It’s a pretty view.” Then she left the Scorched Hammer,
whistling a happy tune. She had a good feeling about tonight.
~*~
“You ready to go, Kirsli?” Balimund called out from the front room.
She drew in a deep breath, willing her heart to stop racing. She was ready, had
eagerly anticipated his reaction. She opened the door, stepping out.
His breath hitched in his throat. “Kirsli honey, you are a vision. So
beautiful,” he murmured before lowering his lips to capture hers. The soft kiss
lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Kirsli sank into his embrace, loving
the feel of his strong arms surrounding her. He groaned against her mouth and
pulled back. “We’d better go before I get too carried away.”
His reaction was everything she had hoped for. Nothing could dampen her spirits
tonight. She had everything she had ever wanted.
~*~
***** Celebrations *****
Chapter Summary
     Kirsli and Balimund attend Keerava and Talen's engagement party. Aria
     and Farkas tie the knot.
Chapter Notes
     Wow, this chapter practically wrote itself. The words just flowed...
     It is also NSFW for underage sex. If you'd rather not read the smut,
     just skip over the scene at the third break.
     A screenshot of Kirsli in her party dress can found here.
     Huge kudos to alyssacousland for all the help and encouragement and
     awesome beta skills!
Chapter_Seventeen:_Celebration
Kirsli accepted Balimund’s proffered arm, allowing him to escort her across the
short distance from the Scorched Hammer to The Bee and Barb. Outwardly she was
the epitome of poise and grace, but on the inside she was a mess of nervous
energy. At the door of the inn, she sucked in a deep breath.
Balimund took notice of her demeanor. “It’ll be alright, Kirsli.”
“I know it will. I, I just… don’t know how to dance. It’s not exactly something
taught in an orphanage.” Her voice was soft, unsure.
“I’ll show you how. It’s easy to learn. You’ll be fine, sweetie. C’mon, let’s
have a good time.”
She pushed aside her anxiety, and flashed a brilliant smile. “I guess I should
remind myself that I’m with you.”
He opened the door, ushering her in with a rather possessive hand placed on the
small of her back. Most of the townsfolk were already there. Well, the ones
that had been invited. Kirsli glanced around the room. The Black-Briars, save
Ingun, had not been invited. Nor had Brynjolf. The Snow-Shods were present, as
was Mjoll and Aerin, looking rather happy together. Bolli and Nivenor were
present, currently conversing with Drifa and Bersi. Haelga preened from the arm
of Hofgrir. Haelga’s niece, Svana had come with Shadr. Brand-Shei, Grelka,
Romlyn, Marise, Valindor, Tythis, Ungrien, Wujeeta, and Madesi all mingled
around the room. Dravin and Synda Llanith had come as had Leonara and Addvild
from the Snow-Shod Farm.
Aria and Farkas stood near the happy couple, Keerava and Talen-Jei, who were
dressed up in their finest clothing. It seemed Keerava was showing off the ring
Talen had given her, the very same one Aria had supplied the amethysts for.
Entering the inn behind them was Jarl Laila. Accompanying her were her two
sons, Harrald and Saerlund as well as her steward, Anuriel and housecarl, Unmid
Snow-Shod.
Kirsli’s face brightened when she caught sight of Constance and Asbjorn
standing near the bar. She grasped Balimund’s hand, leading him over to them.
She immediately hugged Constance. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Constance returned the hug. “Look at you, Kirsli. You look amazing. And that
glow,” she cast a sideways glance at Balimund. “It’s about time.”
Balimund grinned happily. He knew the gossips would have a heyday with this
little tidbit. He could care less what they said at this moment. Both he and
Kirsli were happy.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to make it,” said Kirsli as she leaned
against Balimund’s side.
Constance smiled. “Ah yes, we thought we wouldn’t because it would the children
without supervision, but as it turned out, my friend, Unna, who is a member of
the Riften Guard, was off-duty tonight and volunteered to watch them for us. We
can’t stay very long, but it’s nice to be able to get out once in a while and
mingle with other adults.”
Asbjorn nodded in agreement. “Between helping her with the kids and helping out
at the forge, there hasn’t been time for much else. This is a nice diversion.”
Balimund chuckled, “Welcome to adulthood, son. Wait till you get married.”
“As if you would know,” Asbjorn shot back with a grin, elbowing Balimund.
Balimund rolled his eyes at his adopted son’s jab, “All in good time.”
Asbjorn smirked, his eyes flicking over to Kirsli, “Just don’t make her wait
too long, old man.”
Balimund laughed loudly, “I might be old, but I can work circles around you,
pup. Whenever, wherever.”
Kirsli and Constance glanced at each other, snickering, “Men!”
Balimund grinned at Kirsli. “Cheeky lass,” he quipped. “Let’s go mingle, shall
we?”
~*~
As the party hit full swing, toasts were made to and by the happy couple and
the dancing commenced. Both Kirsli and Balimund had no shortage of dance
partners, though most were only interested in finding out what was going on
between the pair. The questions were met with vague answers, keeping the
gossips guessing, and most likely fabricating wild stories. There were a token
few who knew the truth, though they were mum on the subject.
When he wasn’t dancing with Kirsli, or anyone else, he couldn’t take his eyes
off of her. He watched her every move, pride shining in his eyes. There was
warmth also. And desire. She was the most beautiful woman in the room and
everyone knew it.
She returned to his side after a dance with Farkas, grinning ear to ear. “I
know a secret,” she chimed in a sing-song voice.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, “And what might that be, honey?”
She made a smooshy face, wrinkling her nose, and giggled, “If I tell you, it
won’t be a secret.”
He flashed puppy dog eyes at her, “I can keep a secret.”
“You’ll find out later.” She giggled. “Dance with me.”
“Let me check my dance card.” He held his hand up in front of him, pretending
to be checking a list. “Ah, you’re in luck. Looks like I’m free for this go-
round.”
He escorted her to the middle of the room as the minstrels began to play a slow
song. They were joined by many couples, but Balimund only had eyes for Kirsli.
He held her close, leading her in the slow waltz. He twirled her around. It
made her feel light-headed. Sometimes she missed a step, and giggled at her
folly. At least she didn’t step on his toes.
When the dance ended, he escorted her to the refreshment table and handed her a
glass of Arenthia Red. She sipped it slowly, her head swimming from the wine
and the dancing. After she finished her drink, she grasped his arm and led him
back to the dance floor.
This song was more upbeat, allowing them to dance the Allemande, followed by a
minuet. Then there was a Round, in which everyone joined in.
Afterwards, Kirsli excused herself for a moment. She needed some fresh air.
“You are the talk of the town. You know that, right?” Aria said as she joined
her. “I tell ya, if looks could kill.”
Kirsli shrugged, “Let them be jealous. I don’t care one bit about any of them.”
“Good for you. I’d feel the same way if I were in your shoes, Kirsli. Balimund
is quite the catch.”
Kirsli chuckled, “As if you aren’t getting married to an equally great catch.
Farkas told me the secret and I am so thrilled for you. So what made you to
decide to get married tomorrow?”
“We had planned to have to ceremony in Whiterun, at Jorrvaskr. A friend of
mine, Erandur… he’s a priest of Mara that I helped awhile back… he agreed to
marry us. We still plan on having that ceremony, but when Farkas showed up here
last night I told him I didn’t want to wait any longer. That I wanted to marry
him now. Maramal agreed to do the ceremony first thing tomorrow morning. I hope
you’ll come. Both of you.”
“I’m sure I speak for Balimund when I say we wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Kirsli hugged Aria tightly. “Thank you, Aria. I know I haven’t always been nice
to you. I couldn’t see past the jealousy I felt. I want to apologize for my
behavior, for hitting you after those assholes wrecked the house. It wasn’t
your fault.”
Aria smiled, her eyes alight with happiness. “I don’t hold any of that against
you. I understand perfectly. I’d have done the same if I had been you. In fact,
I have in the past. We aren’t all that dissimilar. He’s a good man and I’m
happy for you.”
Kirsli smiled. She glanced up, noticing Farkas standing at the door. He joined
them, wrapping his arms around Aria. “There you are, love.” He planted a kiss
on her cheek then nodded his head toward Honeyside, “I’m ready to go home
anytime you are.”
“Is that a hint, Farkas?” She chuckled, snuggling back against him.
“Yeah, the only way I could make it less subtle would be to toss you over my
shoulder and carry you off.”
“That would be something.” Aria laughed. “Maybe it would give the gossiping
bitches something to talk about besides Kirsli and Balimund. I think they’d be
positively scandalized.”
Kirsli giggled at the picture in her head, “No, they’d be positively
scandalized if Balimund tossed me over his shoulder and carried me off. I think
that would set Riften on its ear.”
“Wouldn’t it, though?” Aria quipped. “Feel free to join us at Honeyside. We
were, after all, planning a nightcap on the back porch. I have just the thing
for it, too.”
“I’ll go get him and we’ll be right over.” Kirsli smiled and headed back inside
the inn. She made her way across the room, finding Balimund standing by the bar
with Hofgrir. She noticed right off his stony expression, his lips drawn into a
thin line. There seemed to be a problem.
Balimund crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t see how that’s any of
your business.”
“You broke my nose. You could at least give an honest answer to my question. Or
would you prefer to be called a hypocrite?” The stable master charged, pointing
his finger at Balimund.
Balimund rolled his eyes, “Takes one to know one. That still doesn’t make it
any of your business. I’ll tell you one thing, though. If you ever touch her
again, I’ll do more than break your nose.”
Kirsli rested a hand against his arm, her gaze flicking over both of them.
“Aria and Farkas have headed over to Honeyside. She said we could join them at
any time. So how about we go?”
Balimund smiled at her, “Sounds like a plan, honey.”
With a parting glare at Hofgrir, Balimund led Kirsli away. They stopped to say
their goodbyes to Keerava and Talen-Jei, expressing their congratulations one
last time. Then they headed for Honeyside.
~*~
Aria broke out the Spiced Wine, pouring them all a glass. Kirsli raised her
glass, proposing a toast. “To your impending nuptials tomorrow. Here’s to many
years of happiness.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Aria smiled as she drained her glass. Farkas, Kirsli and
Balimund joined her.
“Is that the secret you wouldn’t tell me?” Balimund cocked an eyebrow at
Kirsli.
“Yep!”
Balimund wrapped his arms around her, gingerly tickling her sides. She giggled,
bucking in his arms. “I’m happy for both of you. We’ll be more than happy to
act as your witnesses.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Aria replied.
“Yeah, we’d be honored if you were there with us.” Farkas added.
Balimund gazed out at the lake, “I’m glad you bought this place. It’s been
empty for years now. It’s good to have you owning it, and not someone from the
Guild or one of Maven’s toadies.”
“The Jarl said she’d bestow the title of Thane on me if I completed a certain
task for her. I guess there’s a skooma operation going on in Cragslane Cavern
that she’d like to see shutdown. She had hoped with Sarthis dead that would
take care of the problem, but as she feared, someone else stepped in and took
over the operation. She fears it’s all linked to the Guild. She is well aware
of my vendetta against them, and hopes to root out who’s behind it all.”
Farkas frowned, shaking his head. “And I say you’re playing with fire, love.”
“She’s had some of her spies infiltrate the operation, as gamblers. Not only is
it a skooma operation, but they have pit fights involving wolves. Much like the
one’s at Faldar’s Tooth. It’s abhorrent. They need to be shut down.”
“And you won’t hear me disagree about that. I just think you need to let this
feud with the Thieves’ Guild rest. It’s already cost us Kodlak. I don’t want to
lose you, too.”
Aria cupped his face with her hands, “You won’t, my love. I’m the Dragonborn,
remember? It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that rabble to take me down.
We’ve fought much worse.” She kissed him softly then glanced back at Kirsli and
Balimund. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. Have some more wine and enjoy the
view.”
Kirsli rested her head against Balimund’s shoulder. With the heels on, she
could easily tuck her head in the curve of his neck. “Go on. We’ll find
something to preoccupy ourselves with.” She winked at Aria. It was nice to have
Balimund all to herself for a moment. No crowds, no prying eyes, no
gossipmongers. Just the two of them with the light from the two moons dancing
upon the surface of Lake Honrich.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling against him. He kissed the
crown of her head before lifting her chin. He captured her lips, kissing her
tenderly. He wanted more, deepening the kiss, urging her to open her mouth
under his insistent lips, their tongues meeting. The kiss that he planted on
her was a kiss that shook her to the core. It wasn’t particularly hungry or
passion filled, but soft and sweet - the kind of kiss lovers, who cared deeply
for each other, shared.
Kirsli loved being held in Balimund’s strong arms. He was so big and solid,
even smelled good too – manly, and just plain sexy.  “You don’t think that
they’ll miss us if we just head home?” She ran her fingers through his hair.
She had plans of her own in mind.
“I doubt it, honey. Shall we?”
~*~
“I need to wash off the cosmetics off my face. Give me a few minutes?”
Balimund nodded at her, watching as she headed into her own room, before he
entered his own. He smiled as he thought of the night’s events. It felt good to
be with her in front of everyone they knew. He figured by now most had guessed
what had taken place between them. It mattered not what they thought.
He had wanted to wait until she was older, but he knew without a shadow of a
doubt what would happen once they climbed in bed. He wanted her, needed her.
There was no denying it.
He slipped out of his finery, stripping down to bare skin. He then sat on the
edge of his bed, waiting for her to join him.
And much like when he saw her earlier in her gown, his breath hitched in his
throat, his mouth dry and his erection hardening.
She came to him with her hair brushed out, the length of it covering her bare
breasts. At her waist she wore a silk and lace garter belt with garters
attached to silk stockings. The delicate creation framed a mound of red curls.
He licked his lips, unable to take his eyes off of her. She was so beautiful.
She blushed demurely under his gaze, as pale pink colored her skin. He pushed
himself up from the bed, holding a hand out to her. She accepted it and moved
into his embrace. He captured her lips, bestowing upon her a needy kiss.
Balimund lifted her into his arms and placed her on the bed.  Lovingly he
stroked her body, running his hands down her supple skin, caressing her flared
hips before dropping lower to skim across her belly. His fingers skirted the
top fringes of her mons before sliding upwards to trace the rounded curves of
her breasts. He plucked her nipples, listening to her sharp intake of breath.
Slowly he teased her, arousing her until he felt her blossom under the sensual
movements of his fingers.
He caressed her, softly whispering sweet words. He covered her body completely,
taking her mouth in a passionate kiss. Kirsli writhed beneath him, her small
body sparking a white hot flame against him. Balimund moaned, encouraging her
to touch him. She wrapped her arms around him, plunging her fingers into the
thickness of his hair.
His mouth moving lower, he burned a trail of heat down her body. She writhed as
he nipped her tender nipples. How glorious it felt as he sucked each before
moving lower still, seeking her hidden treasure.  He molded his hand against
her mons, separated her lips then explored, thrusting his fingers into the
heated cleft he found within.
As if of their own volition, her hips bucked in time with his probing fingers
as she moaned loudly. Capturing her mouth, he kissed her hotly, his tongue
snaking in then out as he plundered her moist channel.
Fleetingly as he broke the kiss, he glanced down at her half-closed eyes and
pouting lips. His heart soared at the sight. Her flushed appearance served to
magnify her beauty. He knew the Divines had truly blessed him. Continuing his
passionate exploration, he attacked the taut bud of pleasure, nestled within
her downy curls, with intense longing. He ravaged her senses, sending wave
after wave of pleasure careening through her. Kirsli cried out, her moans of
pleasure bouncing off the walls, creating a cacophony of splendor. Relentlessly
he took her higher, pushing her senses to the limit. He brought her to a heart-
stopping climax, reeling over the crescendos of bliss. Kirsli screamed, raking
her nails down his back while her body shook from the aftershocks of passion. A
hiss slipped from Balimund's lips before he pulled away, rising to his knees.
His cock swelled, throbbing as it reached full size. Kirsli opened her eyes
then gasped. He murmured soft words, drawing her into a seated position as he
cradled her head against the swell of his chest. His member loomed powerfully
against her flushed skin. She eyed it curiously as a blush crept into her
cheeks. Kirsli watched as he grasped her hand, guiding it to his throbbing
length. It was soft as velvet yet hard as steel, hot to the touch, she moaned
as he ran her hand up then down the hard length. He tossed his head back,
moaning loudly, "Feel what you do to me," he groaned with a strained voice.
There was no mistaking the look of sheer pleasure on his face. Balimund drew
back the hand that covered hers, letting her explore him. She fondled him with
exquisite care until his body jerked with absolute need of her. He groaned low
in his throat, feeling his passion grow. Balimund pulled away; coaxing her back
upon the blankets then cradled his body between her slick thighs. He touched
her, plundering her core until she writhed, exploding a second time.
"Balimund, I need you!" Kirsli exclaimed, her voice raspy, sensuous.
Momentarily ignoring Kirsli's impassioned plea, Balimund sought the sweetness
within the juncture of her thighs. He slipped a finger inside her, bringing her
to a hip jerking frenzy with his coaxing ministrations. Then he guided his
shaft to her quivering sex, pushing into her wetness. Her wet walls clenched
around his steely length, caressing exquisitely, as he thrust deep. He stoked
the fires of her passion; his long strokes intensifying. His urgency to please
her rocketed as he felt her hips move with his… synchronized.
Reaching down, he wrapped her legs around his waist, lowering his hands beneath
her bottom, pulling her into his deep, tender strokes. A cry of pleasure shot
from her lips. With each thrust, he took her higher, spiraling upward in a
heady exodus of soul bonding rapture. Suddenly, her world exploded sending her
flying across the heavens as she cried out.
Balimund's own cry of release mingled with hers; he collapsed atop her,
shuddering as his violent climax battered her channel.
They lay silent for what seemed like an eternity. He cuddled her, shifting to
her side as his embrace enveloped her. She sighed softly, snuggling in his
warmth. "I love you," she whispered.
"And I love you,honey,"he replied.
Kirsli snuggled closer, sighing happily as she closed her eyes. Her dreams were
full of wonder, hopeful visions of getting everything she wanted. The heart of
the man she loved, a home and eventually, a family.
~*~
The next morning, Kirsli surprised Balimund with breakfast in bed. They
snuggled together, feeding each other bites of food. It made for a glorious
morning. And it had only just begun. They dressed in their finery once more,
though Kirsli left her hair long, letting it flow down over her shoulders. She
washed her face one more time, removing any leftover makeup. Part of her wished
for some kohl to line her eyes with, though. She liked how she had looked with
it on.
They met up with Aria and Farkas outside of the temple. They were both beaming
with happiness.
“I trust everything is well?” Balimund spoke up, referring to last night’s
discussion.
Farkas smiled, “There’s nothing to worry about, friend. We worked it out.”
Aria giggled as she leaned against her husband to be, “Everything is perfect.
Though, I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to walk this morning.”
Balimund chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t need to know that, but I’m happy
for you.” He had to laugh, though. Kirsli had expressed something similar this
morning, claiming she felt boneless. To her credit, she remained quiet, but
flashed a certain look at Aria.
“I don’t know about you, but I am so ready to do this! C’mon, Farkie, let’s go
get hitched!”
Once inside the Temple of Mara, Kirsli and Balimund sat in the very first pew
while Aria and Farkas took their places before the altar. Maramal joined them,
standing in front of the statue of Mara. He cleared his throat before beginning
the ceremony.
“It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over
us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one
another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life
at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the
union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in
this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship.
Farkas, do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"
Farkas leveled a loving smile upon Aria as he took her hands in his, “I do, now
and forever.”
“And Aria, do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her rosy cheeks. She squeezed his
hands, “I do, now and forever.”
"Under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be
wed. I present to the two of you with these matching rings, blessed by Mara's
divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together."
Aria and Farkas exchanged rings, slipping the gold band onto each others'
fingers.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest smiled.
Farkas swept Aria into his arms, lifting her feet off the floor, hugged her
tightly and planted a passionate kiss on her upturned lips. He held her against
him lovingly, whispering words of love against the mouth he had just kissed.
Both of them thanked Maramal and headed, arm in arm, to the door. It was time
to start their honeymoon.
As Kirsli and Balimund followed them out, Maramal stopped them at the door. “It
is always wonderful to see love blossoming. I would be most pleased to perform
a wedding ceremony for the two of you, when you’re ready, of course.”
Balimund raised an eyebrow, “Is it that obvious?”
“If one knows what to look for, yes. I am a priest devoted to the Goddess of
Love. Her light tends to illuminate all the loving couples within her fold. It
was plain to see the moment you both walked into the temple. You have been
truly blessed by her divine grace. I look forward to sanctifying your union.”
The priest explained.
“So Mara wouldn’t be displeased by the fact that I am so much younger than
Balimund.” Kirsli ventured in a soft voice.
“No, not at all. Mara believes that the spark of a union comes from inside us.
Love is ageless, transcending all. It is a beautiful gift to be shared with one
another. You are fortunate to have found each other, to recognize the love you
feel with each other,” Maramal replied.
“Thank you, Maramal. We’ll keep in mind what you’ve said.”
~*~
***** Crucible *****
Chapter Summary
     Crucible- a difficult test or challenge or a place or situation that
     forces people to change or make difficult decisions.
Chapter Notes
     Warning: This chapter isn't for the faint of heart. It contains
     graphic content that is NSFW. Graphic rape and violence toward women.
     Also more graphic violence and character death.
     Huge thanks to alyssacousland for being the bestest best friend and
     beta reader. For all the encouragement, hand holding, and chats. I
     wouldn't ever want to do this without her!
Chapter_Eighteen:_Crucible
Balimund stripped out of the fine clothes he had worn to the wedding and
reached for the clothes he worked in. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he
noticed Kirsli entering the room. She lounged on the bed, watching him. He
noted she had also changed clothing also, putting on a pretty blue and white
dress.
He bestowed upon her a warm smile. She bloomed under his gaze, slipping off the
bed and into his arms. “I kept telling myself it would be better to wait until
you were older, but it seems I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he murmured
softly against her hair. “What Maramal said has me thinking about the future.”
She went up on the tips of her toes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders,
“Same here. It’s odd to find acceptance from a priest and not from people
who’ve known you for years. That’s their problem and not ours. We have found
happiness, and if they can’t be happy for us, then to Oblivion with them.”
Balimund grinned, “Damn right. Though, we really need to take a good look at
the future, Kirsli. I still want you to go to school, experience life, and not
give up on your dream. I’ll always be here for you. Nothing will change what I
feel for you.”
She hugged him as tightly as she could. As much as she loathed the thought of
being apart from him, she knew he was right. It just meant she’d have something
good to come home to when her schooling was done. She looked up into his eyes –
By Dibella, he had sexy eyes, bedroom eyes,  eyes that smoldered and left her
aching and weak in the knees – and smiled. She licked her lips, “I want to go
to the school Aria told me about. There’s so much I want to learn, but –”
“No buts –”
The look she gave silenced his rebuttal. “Hear me out first before you cut me
off. We weren’t very careful last night. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know
where babies come from. I’m not saying it’ll happen, but it is a possibility.
I’ll be more careful. I can brew a potion that’ll suppress fertility. Hafjorg
will help me.”
“That is a valid point, honey. We’ll both be more careful. I can say I got too
carried away last night, but that doesn’t change the fact I should have
considered it since I’ve been the one expressing how you should go to school
and not settle down yet.” He held her tighter, lifting her feet off the floor.
It brought her to eye level with him. “But say you do end up with child, I
won’t abandon you or it. I meant what I said last night. I love you, Kirs, and
I would be the happiest man alive to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Good to know,” she planted a kiss on his cheek then sighed. “I should probably
let you get some work done. Didn’t you say you wanted to work more on those
commissions for Aria?”
He nodded in affirmation, “I started work on the ebony war axe yesterday. I
plan to finish it and start on the ebony longsword and shield. I have the sabre
cat hides Farkas brought me that I want you to cure. I had planned on making
them into cloaks.”
She grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “Well I had planned on going over to
Honorhall to help Constance. I’ll send Asbjorn to cure the hides.”
Balimund shook his head, “No, Kirsli, there are other things I need Asbjorn to
do. You get the hides. I’d appreciate if you started on them today.”
“Okay, I will, but then I’m heading over to the orphanage.”
It surprised him that she didn’t argue with him or try to get her way. He
kissed her softly, set her to her feet and headed out to the forge.
~*~
Kirsli spent the next several hours salting then scraping the hides, removing
fat, flesh and tissue. Then she rubbed them down with oil to soften them. Her
next step was drying them on the rack. She took one on the tanning rack outside
and the other on the rack in the basement. She’d be able to smoke them
tomorrow.
At that point she washed up, fixed a late lunch for Balimund. When it was
ready, she headed out to the forge. His focus was on the war axe, shaping its
blade. He glanced up at her when she placed her hand on his forearm. She kissed
him on the cheek, “Lunch is on the table. I’m heading over to see Constance.
I’ll be back after bit. Be thinking about what you’d like for supper.”
“Pie,” he grinned, winking at her. She chuckled as she walked away. Oh how she
loved that man.
Constance had sent the children out to play while she balanced the books. She
sighed as she entered the numbers. Things were tight, not as bad as it had been
while Grelod was still alive, but she’d have to be careful. Donations had been
steady for a while, and it helped that there weren’t as many children as there
had been before Grelod died. She wanted to make sure she could provide her
charges with the kind of care they deserved. She hadn’t liked it when Grelod
watered down the milk or only fed the children once a day. It had disheartened
her to be party to that. She had promised the children those things would never
happen again.
She set the ledger aside when she noticed Kirsli standing in the doorway to her
office. “What’s wrong, Constance?” Kirsli asked. She had been standing there
for a few minutes, noting the worry on the other woman’s face.
“Just finances. It’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” Constance replied
then hopped out of her seat. She led Kirsli to the trestle table where the
children ate their meals. “I had hoped you’d stop by. You have to fill me in on
what happened with you and Balimund? You are still glowing. I hope it was
everything you ever hoped for.”
“And then some.” Kirsli chuckled as a blush covered her cheeks. “He told me he
loves me. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear that?”
“Oh, Kirsli. I am so happy for you,” Constance smiled, wrapping her up in a
hug. “He is a good man.”
“Aria and Farkas asked us to be there with them for their wedding. It was
beautiful. I have to tell you what Maramal said to us after the newlyweds
left.” Kirsli leaned in and repeated the earlier conversation.
Constance joined Kirsli in a squeal. “I think that settles it then. How soon
are we going to be hearing wedding bells? Oh please tell me you’ll want me and
Asbjorn to be there for you like you will be for us next week.”
“You will be, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon. We are going to wait.
I am going to a finishing school for a formal education, because I want to
attend the College of Winterhold. Aria even said going to this school could
help me get into the Arcane University, if it was something I was interested
in. “
“That’s in Cyrodiil, the Imperial City, oh Kirsli…” Her eyes went wide, her
brows disappearing into her hairline. “I miss Cyrodiil sometimes, but I could
never give up what I have here. The children and Asbjorn… You have a chance to
make your dream come true. I am so happy for you.”
“I am looking forward to it, but moreover I am happy knowing when I’m through
with school, he’ll be here for me. That doesn’t sound selfish, does it?”
Kirsli chewed on a fingernail, fidgeting in her seat.
“No, it doesn’t. It sounds to me that he is thinking about you. It shows how
much he cares.” Constance took hold of Kirsli’s hands. “You’re lucky to have
found that. I get the feeling he’s waited a long time for this. So I imagine he
feels you’re worth it.”
Kirsli got up from the table. She nodded her head. “This morning when we woke
up, he told me about Siv, someone he really cared about when he was younger.
She died before he could ask her to marry him and since then he’s avoided
getting close to anyone. It explained much.”
Constance nodded in agreement. “I remember when I came to Riften years ago to
work here. He spent just as much time working at the forge as he does now. His
dedication to his craft and to raising Asbjorn right was and still is
admirable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more talented smith. It warmed my
heart when I learned he had taken you in. I knew then you’d be alright. I had
worried so about you, being on your own on the streets of this hellhole of a
city.”
Kirsli pursed her lips, trying not to think about all the bad that had happened
to her while she was on the streets. “I was lucky.” She shook her head. “I’d
rather not relive any of that. Balimund promised I’d never have to go through
any of that again. Oh and Aria started to teach me how to fight my daggers
yesterday. It was hard, but I felt so good afterwards. I hope the training
resumes after she and Farkas have their honeymoon.”
Constance glanced over at the mantle clock as it chimed the hour. “I should
probably think about starting supper for the children.”  She entered the pantry
with Kirsli right behind her.
“Oh, what if I was to help you make smoked salmon and baked potatoes? Doesn’t
that sound delicious? I can go to the Fishery and get fresh salmon.” Kirsli
asked, turning away from the shelves  to glance back at Constance. “I think I
may even have to get enough for home, too. I told Balimund to be thinking about
what he wanted to eat, but he gets so wrapped up in his work that he forgets.”
Constance chuckled then smiled at her, “That does sound delicious. The children
will love it. Same goes for Asbjorn. Bolli has been giving me a discount since
it’s for the orphanage. Let me get you the gold.”
Moments later, Constance came back with a coin purse. “This should be enough.”
Kirsli pocketed the purse and headed for the docks.  She smiled, waving as she
passed by Balimund, who was busy at the forge working on one of the weapons
Aria had commissioned to go with the suits of armor. He returned the smile,
waving back. With a dreamy sigh, she kept moving. She didn’t want to spend too
much time at the docks. Just go to the fishery and then back to the orphanage,
she told herself. 
She quickened her pace as she rounded the corner of the Meadery, heading for
the short set of stairs leading to the Fishery. A startled yelp slipped from
her lips as something, someone grabbed her from behind, slamming her into the
rear wall of the Meadery.
“Where ya goin’, ragamuffin?” Maul growled. He pressed into her, his larger
body covering hers. He gripped her forearms, holding her in place.
“Let go of me, Maul.” Kirsli retorted through clenched teeth, struggling to get
free.  She stomped on the instep of his foot, cursing vehemently because she
left her daggers at home.
He gritted his teeth against the pain and retaliated. He removed one of his
hands from her arm, bringing it up and punching her in the mouth. The force of
the blow caused her neck to snap back and bounce off the rough wooden wall. She
cried out in pain. Maul jerked her toward the rear door of the Meadery. Kirsli
kicked and fought, desperately trying to get free of him. She screamed as loud
as she could before he clamped his hand over mouth and nose. She knew what was
coming, knew what he had on his mind. She muttered Balimund’s name, praying
he’d heard her scream and would save her.
Opening the door, he shoved her inside. A lecherous grin crossed his face.
“You belong to me, bitch.”
Maul threw her to the floor before delivering a brutal kick to her ribs. Kirsli
screamed as she felt bones breaking. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her
all the way to the cellar of the Meadery, her cries of pain, cries for help
echoing through the building.  However, Maul was utterly unconcerned about how
loud she was or how much she fought. He knew Maven had all her workers,
including Indaryn, at her house assisting with the reconstruction.
When fire she produced in her hand licked his skin, he let go, delivering
another punishing kick. This one caught her chest, knocking the wind right of
her.
“Fucking cunt! You’ll pay for that!”
He yanked her up from the floor, slamming her back into a wall as hard as he
could. He followed it up with several punches to the face, this time blacking
her eyes and bloodying her nose.
“Stop, please!” She managed before his next punch to her ribs made it difficult
to breathe.
Maul grabbed her dress and yanked, ripping it open from the neckline down. He
tore the ruined garment off her body, flinging it across the room before doing
the same to her breastband. He flashed a lewd leer as her breasts popped free
of their bindings. He groped her pale orbs roughly, pinching her nipples hard.
Kirsli could do no more than whimper. Her whole body ached. Deep breaths proved
to be impossible. She could barely see out of either eye. She tried to draw
upon her magicka to cast another fire spell, but found she had none left.
He moved to her smalls next. He ripped the scrap of cloth away, exposing her
curly red mound. He yanked her legs apart, slamming his fist into her belly as
she tried to kick him. She grunted, crying silent tears. Where was Balimund?
Hadn’t anyone in the docks area heard her scream?
Steel gauntleted fingers invaded her tight channel. He pumped them in and out.
Pain and fear, however, kept her dry. He covered her, sinking his teeth into
one of her nipples, cruelly biting her. “I saw you last night with that fuckin’
iron pounder. I watched the two of you together, watched him put his hands on
you. Did you let him fuck you, ragamuffin? Did you enjoy it? I see the marks he
left on your skin. He may think you’re his little bitch, but he’s wrong. You’re
mine. You’ll always be mine. I swear to you when I’m through with you, he won’t
want you anymore. No one will.”
Maul hastened to remove his steel armor, tossing the pieces aside. Then rolled
her over, forcing her onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her.
Her head lolled limply against the rough plank floor without any strength in
her arms to hold her up. One hand gripped her hips tightly, his fingers leaving
behind dark bruises on her pale skin. With the other, balled into a fist, he
repeatedly clubbed the back of her head and upper back, inflicting more
punishment on her with the force of his blows.
Consciousness waned, plunging her into a world of darkness, a safe haven from
the abuse he visited upon her.
“Fucking weak ass bitch!” He hissed before attempting to shove his cock into
her passage. As tight as she was, the head barely breached her slit. He pulled
out, spitting into his hand. He fisted his cock, slicking the head and shaft,
and tried again. This time he managed to penetrate her just a smidge deeper
before it was too painful to go any further.
Snarling in frustration, he pulled out a second time before leaning down to
spit on her slit. He worked his fingers in and out, just enough to open her.
Then he pushed in for the third time, this time filling her to the hilt. He
held her in place, his hips flush against her ass, before he began to move,
slamming in as hard as he could.
He fucked her hard and fast, snapping his hips against her. His fists
delivering more blows to her head, ribs and back, pummeling her relentlessly.
He grunted as he came, quickly pulling out, shooting his seed onto her upturned
bottom.
He flipped her over, smashing a fist into her jaw while the other connected
with her ribs one final time. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.
He reached for his armor, donning it hastily. He then grabbed up her torn
dress, grinning as he heard the jingle of coins. Fishing one out of the pouch,
he pried open her mouth and shoved the coin down her throat then pocketed the
rest. “There ya go, a coin to pay the ferryman when he hauls your dead ass off
to Oblivion!”
Maul chuckled, dragging her back up the stairs. He stepped out the back door of
the Meadery and tossed her body into the lake below. He moved his hands back
and forth against each other, as if he was washing his hands… free of her. The
insignificant bitch meant nothing to him.
The fish could have her for all he cared.
~*~
The wood elf, Valindor, rounded the corner of the Fishery, humming what in his
mind was an epic rendition of “The Dragonborn Comes.” He stopped dead in his
tracks as Maul came out of the Meadery, carrying a bloody and battered naked
female with long red hair. He heaved her into the water below, smirking as she
sank. Valindor watched, alarm coursing through him, as Maul rubbed his hands
together then went back inside the Meadery.
Valindor immediately dove into the water, swimming down after the body. Dread
filled him as he got closer. Don’t let it be her, he repeated over and over
again, a silent mantra that echoed through his head. Even though she had turned
him down when he asked her to go to the party with him, he felt no ill will for
her. It was more than obvious who she wanted to be with after seeing them
together at the party. The blacksmith was a lucky man to have her.
He wrapped one arm around her body, pulling her to him as gently as possible,
and kicked off the muddy bottom of the lake. He swam to the surface, his strong
kicks propelling him to the adjacent shoreline of Lake Honrich. As he pulled
her up onto the bank, he noticed the Argonian, Wujeeta, had joined him.
He flashed a grave look at her. “She’s not breathing. Let Balimund know and
fetch a healer from the temple.”
He watched as Wujeeta raced off toward the main gate. Turning his attention
back to Kirsli who was turning blue beneath the layer of bruises. Prying her
mouth open, he swiped his fingers inside. He felt the blockage at the back of
her oral cavern and grabbed hold of it. Confusion burrowed his brow as he saw
what it was. A septim? He tossed it to the ground then rolled her to her side,
lightly thumping on her back.
She still wasn’t breathing and he feared she’d crossed over into Aetherius.
Where was that healer? Hurry, Wujeeta, he mentally fretted. Hurry.
He knew he couldn’t save her on his own.
~*~
Constance wrung her hands, hurrying toward the Scorched Hammer. She could see
Balimund at the forge, but Kirsli hadn’t returned. Worry coursed through her.
Please let her be here, she silently chanted. She didn’t want to imagine the
alternative.
Balimund glanced up from the war axe he’d been shaping, his gaze falling upon a
very harried looking Constance, who stood a few feet from him. Apprehension
poured off her in waves. “What’s wrong, Constance? Has something happened at
Honorhall?”
She shook her head frantically, “Is Kirsli here? I sent her to the fishery for
fresh salmon, but she hasn’t returned.”
Balimund tossed the weapon he’d been working on into the trough. He’d seen her
earlier when she’d passed by him, but he’d yet to see her come back. Fury and
fear tore through him, seizing his heart in a stranglehold, mentally
transporting him back to another beautiful young woman he hadn’t been able to
save. He’d be damned if he failed Kirsli.
Wujeeta ran through the market, hysterically calling his name. “Valindor sent
me to get you. It’s Kirsli. He pulled her from the lake. She’s not breathing. ”
His heart plummeted in his chest. Red hot rage filled the void. And he knew…
knew without a shadow of a doubt… what had befallen her.
Maul.
He ran to the city gates as fast as his legs would carry him. Passing by the
stables, he headed for the shoreline, frantically scanning the area for her.
Once he had Valindor in his sights, he ran to him.
“No no no no NO! KIRSLI!!” He bellowed, kneeling at Kirsli’s side. He quickly
catalogued the damage to her body. Her skin was a patchwork of livid bruises,
her face a bloody pulp. “GODS-DAMMIT! WHO DID THIS? DID YOU SEE?”
“Maul. He tossed her into the lake, like she was garbage. I managed to get her
to breathe. I feel a weak heartbeat, but she needs a healer or I fear she won’t
last much longer!”
Balimund’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. “I’LL FUCKING KILL THAT
BASTARD!” He lifted her into his arms, mindful of her injuries, and carried her
to the gates, where he was met by Maramal, Dinya and Briehl as well as Nura
Snow-Shod.
The Redguard priest gasped at the sight of her and ordered Briehl to run ahead
of them to prepare a bed for Kirsli. He knew she had a long recovery ahead of
her, if she recovered at all. Scarcely had he seen injuries so bad outside of a
battlefield.
Once they’d made her comfortable, Maramal turned to Balimund, “I know you want
to be here, but I must ask you to step back for a moment and allow us to work.
I warn you, though, our skills may not be enough to keep her out of death’s
cold hands. It’s something you must be ready for.”
“NO! I refuse to accept that! She can’t die. Tell me who can help her if you
can’t!”
Maramal sighed heavily, glancing over at his wife Dinya. He didn’t want to give
Balimund false hope. It was clear to him that she wouldn’t make it through the
night, let alone long enough for them to bring in help. “The only person I know
is Danica Pure-Spring at the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun. She’s the most
powerful healer in Skyrim.”
Aria stormed into the Temple, “I just heard what happened. How bad is she? How
can I help?”
Balimund turned to her, “How fast can you make it to Whiterun?”
Aria licked her lips as she mulled over his words, “A few hours with aid of a
shout I know. You need Danica, yes? It’ll take longer to get back, though, but
I have a couple swift horses.”
He hated interrupting her honeymoon, but she was the only person who could make
it Whiterun fast enough to save Kirsli.
“Make haste then. Divines be with you, Aria. I owe you.”
~*~
As much as Balimund hated to leave Kirsli’s side, he knew he’d only be in the
way of the priests healing her. Besides he had business to take care of. Rage
and regret boiled beneath the surface. He should’ve taken care of Maul months
ago. Had he followed through on his promise that the two-bit thug would get
what was coming to him when he had said it, Kirsli wouldn’t have had to suffer
what she had at his hands today. This time he wouldn’t make that same mistake.
The bastard was as good as dead.
He left Maramal, Dinya and Nura to do what they could for her, praying it was
enough to sustain her until Aria returned with the Priestess of Kynareth. He
glanced over at the manor house being constructed; noting Maul wasn’t at
Maven’s side. Hopefully that meant the blighter was still at the Meadery. He
headed to the docks.
Balimund found Maul leaned up against the wall of the Fishery, puffing on a
pipe. His hair looked wet and he wore a dark tunic and leather pants. One side
of his face was blistered, suggesting it had been singed with fire. At least
Kirsli had tried to fight back, though he figured it had made the bastard hurt
her worse.
When the younger thug caught sight of him, he tossed his pipe and ran, heading
for the Meadery. Immediately Balimund gave chase, catching him just before Maul
got the door open. He grabbed a handful of hair, jerking Maul away from the
door, and slammed him face first into the rough plank wall.
Maul jerked out of Balimund’s grasp, grunting as he felt some of his hair
yanked out.  He grabbed for the sword at his belt and pulled it out. He swung,
but the blacksmith managed to evade the attack by dodging out of the way.
Balimund cursed aloud, raising a foot to kick the younger man as hard as he
could. He jerked the sword from Maul’s hand, giving it a quick once over. It
was shoddy work, not worth the iron it was forged from. Scoffing, he gripped it
in his hands and slammed it over his knee, exploiting a weak spot. It snapped
in half, then he threw the broken pieces into the water.
Maul blanched, jerking the door to the Meadery open. He ran inside with
Balimund hot on his heels. The younger man raced all the way down to the
basement of the Meadery, frantically searching for a backup weapon. When he
couldn’t find one, he turned to face the blacksmith.
Rage twisted Balimund’s facial features and he lunged at the thug, his meaty
fists clenched tight, but Maul was ready for the attack. A flying elbow
connected the blacksmith's midsection followed up by a pulverizing uppercut to
the face. Fists lashed out and Maul hissed as he was thrown to the ground.
Balimund pounced, straddling his core, punches flying like his life depended on
every ounce of drawn blood from the thug's body.
"I’ll make you pay!"
Maul threw Balimund off, his booted feet catching Balimund in the head. Blood
poured from a gash above Balimund's eye and a split lip as he elbowed Maul hard
in the solar plexus. Maul grunted and caught Balimund in a chokehold and
slammed him down, knocking the wind out of him. The two combatants wrestled
around for several minutes, kicking, punching and slamming each other into the
floor. Balimund broke free of Maul's hold and kipped up to his feet before the
thug could hit again and slugged Maul hard across the face, adding a brutal
kick to the groin. Maul bellowed out loud as his eyes watered. Shrugging off
the pain, Maul in return landed a brutal punch to the blacksmith’s mouth,
splitting his lower lip wider and forcing his two front teeth through the upper
one. Blood ran down his face and Balimund retorted by breaking Maul's nose.
Balimund's muscles coiled, readying another hard slug as he punched him hard in
the stomach and drew back a hard uppercut fast just shy of breaking Maul's jaw,
releasing tangy blood down his five o'clock shadow.
With a feral howl, Maul bullrushed the blacksmith and threw his shoulder into
Balimund's midsection, driving him back to crash into a stack of mead  barrels.
A groan slipped from Balimund as a few of them splintered on impact. He could
feel the embedded wood digging into his muscles. Maul held Balimund there,
landing heavy blows to his middle and groin. Balimund groaned and brought his
knee up hard, connecting with the mouth and chin of the thug. He threw himself
forward, landing on Maul and pinning him down to the floor. Playing dirty, Maul
summoned a ball of lightning to his palm and pressed it to Balimund's face. He
howled in pain and grabbed a handful of hair belting Maul across the face so
hard that sent him reeling. Balimund punched, Maul blocked; he countered,
Balimund dodged. And so the dance of death continued with neither standing
still for long, adjusting and modifying their attack to bring the most damage
to the other.
"As tight as the little ragamuffin was when I fucked her earlier, you must have
an awful small dick." Maul taunted as he landed pulverizing hits upon
Balimund's face, again and again. Pain rang in his ears, and he bit his lip to
keep from showing it. "Is that why you spend so much time pounding away at the
forge?"
The two continued, swinging, blocking, and lunging. And soon they were back to
circling each other. Maul swung once more, but Balimund dodged it and grabbed
hold of Maul, knocking him hard against a wall. Balimund became relentless,
grasping a fistful of hair to slam Maul into the wall repeatedly. Blood bubbled
out from Maul's mouth and nose when he tried to breathe. He felt Balimund's
hands leave and made a move to strike. Maul caught Balimund's arm with his free
hand, slamming his elbow into the side of Balimund's face, and at the same time
letting go, allowing the bigger man to topple onto the floor.
Balimund looked up just in time to roll out of the way and dodge Maul's foot
before it connected with his ribs. Groaning, he sprang to his feet, once more
at the ready, and lunged again, once more meeting Maul's fist. He ignored the
pain and swung with everything he had. The thug quickly blocked and pummeled
Balimund in the ribs with hard, punishing blows.
With blood and sweat stinging his eyes, Balimund let out a bellow and threw a
crushing punch into Maul's bloodied mouth. His neck cracked as his head snapped
back at the force of it. He staggered and went down on one knee. Sparkles of
light exploded before his eyes and he shook his head to regain his equilibrium.
Fury gripped him even tighter and he lunged at Balimund, his fist tangling into
the bloodied blond locks while planting his other fist firmly into his ribs
once more. Bones snapped, cracking grotesquely, and Balimund let out a howl of
sheer pain. Before he could think twice, Maul threw another punch at him,
hammering the already bruised and cracked ribs, but he was quick to retaliate,
despite the pain. He went for the low blow, bringing his knee up into the
thug's groin and before another moment passed, he landed a hard blow to the
gut. Maul groaned and staggered, clutching his balls as he nearly blacked out
from the pain inflicted in such a sensitive area.
"I’ve never had to force myself on a woman in order to get laid." Balimund
retorted as he captured Maul in a chokehold, his massive forearm applying
pressure to the thug's Adam's apple and with his free hand delivered vicious
jabs to his kidneys. Maul grunted, slamming his head back to connect with
Balimund's chin. Balimund grunted and continued pounding his fist into Maul's
bruised flesh.
The thug grunted and snarled, "How did you like my leavings? Bet she ain’t such
a pretty little thing no more."
Balimund ignored the barb and smashed Maul's face into the wall. He grinned as
he heard the sickening sound of bones breaking. Maul let out a roar and kicked
backwards, his boot connecting with Balimund's knee. He heard a grunt and
wriggled out of the hold. He grabbed one of the wooden chairs that sat beside
the table and swung it at Balimund. The sickening sound of the chair hitting
flesh and the coarse expletive that followed filled the room. Balimund groaned
and spat out a tooth.
Maul staggered, clutching Balimund. Both men were winded and breathing heavily.
Balimund dragged him toward one of the vats the mead was brewed in as he
favored his bruised and broken ribs.
Maul headbutted his opponent before slamming both his fists into Balimund's
bloodied mouth one after the other. Balimund groaned and retaliated with a
fierce kick to Maul's middle, causing him to stagger and fall. Balimund
followed him down, once more straddling his core while landing heavy blows to
the head and chest. He refused to give up. He would not rest until the breathed
his last.
On and on he went. Blood coursed from Maul's mouth, nose and eyes. "You’re
fuckin’ dead!" Balimund roared.
All around him stood vats for the mead that was brewed here. Two large boiling
vats stood against the north wall while three large storage vats stood opposite
along the south wall. A fire crackled under each of the boiling vats.
Snarling, Balimund shoved Maul’s head and upper body into the fire, holding him
in place as the flame licked at his flesh, scorching, burning. From his long
hours spent working a forge, he was used to the heat. Didn’t mind the fire.
Maul, on the other hand, kicked and screamed, desperate to get to be acquitted
from this trial of fire.
It was not to be, however. The flame found him guilty, and sentenced him to
eternal damnation. Oblivion take mercy on his soul, for Balimund would not.
oOo
***** Unforgiven *****
Chapter Summary
     And I dub thee Unforgiven.
Chapter Notes
     I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter. Rayvin from
     Worlds Collide ate my muse. Damn diva!
     The title of this chapter was inspired by and comes from the
     Metallica song "The Unforgiven II." It suits the mood of the chapter
     perfectly.
     Tons of thanks and internet cookies go out to my darling and superbly
     talented beta, alyssacousland. She's an awesome writer. I highly
     recommend her work.
     On another note, this fic has reached 100 kudos! I'm so excited. Huge
     thanks (and cake!) to everyone who has read, lurked, gave kudos, and
     left comments! It means a lot to me.
Balimund dragged Maul’s burnt and broken body all the way out of the Meadery to
the market square. At first he had considered dumping the corpse into the lake
like Maul had done to Kirsli, but he decided against it. It was better this
way. Better to have it out in the open.
The townsfolk gasped as he made his way through the square. Cries of dismay and
horror filled his ears. He knew how he must look. He was badly hurt and
bleeding. Every step he took was torture. Hard to breathe was an
understatement, but he forced himself to carry on.
Riften needed to see this. They needed to see that he would not let the
trespasses committed against Kirsli go unpunished. They needed to see true
justice.
However, he knew in his heart what it would mean. Kirsli had been avenged, but
justice was often a two way street.
Several members of the Riften Guard closed in on him, surrounding him as he
continued on, dragging the body to the Black-Briar Manor. Maven rushed forth,
her eyes flashing. Balimund tossed the body at her feet.
“What is the meaning of this?” Maven demanded angrily.
His chest heaving, he stared her down unflinching in the face of her rage. His
own hadn’t entirely subsided. It was all that was holding him together, keeping
him on his feet. Balimund growled at her, his teeth bared. “Keep your fucking
dog on a leash next time. He was warned to stay the fuck away from Kirsli.”
Maven’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed as if she’d been sucking on something
sour. “If you kept the little bitch at home, you wouldn’t have this problem,
now would you?” She gestured to the town guardsmen standing around watching.
“Are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to do your job? Arrest
this man! See that he doesn’t see the outside of a jail cell ever again.”
As they jumped to do her bidding, Balimund held out his wrists, allowing them
to place him in irons. “This won’t stand, Maven. Especially once the Jarl sees
what he did to Kirsli. I’ll be out before you know it."
Several guards, including Sigfrost, escorted Balimund to the keep, bringing him
before Jarl Laila. Usually the Jarl held her composure, but as her eyes fixed
upon Balimund, she gasped. Her eyes widened and her words echoed Maven’s.
“What is the meaning of this?” Concern filled her tone. She looked him up and
down head to toe. “For what reason do you bring our blacksmith before me in
irons when it is obvious he is in need of a healer? I demand to know what has
happened.”
One of Maven’s toadies began to speak. “This man is accused of murder most
foul, my Jarl. Lady Maven called for his arrest.”
Jarl Laila glanced from Balimund to the guard who spoke up. “Who has he been
accused of murdering?”
Guardsman Sigfrost then stepped forth. He didn’t relish seeing a man he
respected jailed or worse, executed, on Maven’s behest, not without the truth
being told first. “Maven’s bodyguard, Maul, but it was not without provocation,
my Jarl. Maul brutally attacked and violated his ward, Kirsli.”
Jarl Laila pinned her gaze upon Balimund once more, “Is this true? Have you
anything to say in your defense?”
As the adrenaline slowed, the pain he was in began to take effect, intensifying
with every labored breath he took. Balimund didn’t know how much longer he
would remain on his feet. He knew he would have to come clean. It might be the
only thing that would save his hide. Though, none of it mattered if Kirsli
didn’t pull through.
“She’s not my ward. She never has been.” He grimaced, feeling his knees begin
to shake. He knew it was only a matter of time before they gave out. “She and I
spoke to Maramal this morning after the Dragonborn’s wedding. We were going to
arrange a ceremony. As it stands now, she may not live through the night. That
bastard beat her, raped her and threw her in the lake and this was not the
first time he’d ever done that to her. If she hadn’t been pulled from the water
by Valindor, she would have drowned.”
The Jarl clenched her jaw, “Normally I would congratulate you on the upcoming
nuptials. I witnessed the two of you together at the party last evening and it
is clear to me that you seem quite happy together. However, I question the
difference in your ages.”
Balimund looked her straight in the eye, his tone unapologetic. “Kirsli is of
age. She’s very mature for her years. Besides, older men have always wed
younger women. It ensures that a man has plenty of sons to carry on his line.
More than that, I love her dearly. She is a very smart, very beautiful and very
talented young woman. It’s a distinct possibility that I will lose her.”
He staggered as one of his knees gave out. Sigfrost grabbed him, supporting him
so he didn’t fall down. “My Jarl, might we continue this at another time? You
yourself have already said he’s in need of healing. What we have here is
clearly a case of defending what is his. Not only his bride to be, but the
break-in of his business as well. That was also carried out by the deceased
earlier in the week.”
“I feel for the possible loss of your intended bride. I understand your need as
her husband to be to avenge her, but breaking our laws isn’t the way to go
about it. He should have been brought before me and accused in a court of law.
I cannot condone vigilantism,” Laila replied.
Balimund scoffed, his swollen and bloody upper lip curling as best it could,
“He would have most likely have walked away with a slap on the wrist and I have
no doubt he’d have done it again. This way it ends once and for all. The day
one of Maven’s toadies or any of the Guild faces true justice will never come,
not as long as she claims she’s the one in charge.”
Heat flushed Laila’s cheeks as she bristled from his tone. She sat up in her
chair, her back straight as an arrow. “I am the Jarl here.”
“Then bloody grow a pair and act like it.” He roared at her, his voice sounding
raspy and pained. “Anytime something goes wrong for her, no matter if it’s her
business or a shipment lost or her fucking manor house burned to the ground by
a storm, she puts the screws to you, crying out her fucking sob story, and you
knuckle under, giving in to whatever Maven wants. You still haven’t paid me for
the last two shipments of weapons I delivered, yet the money went to her.
Should I have come crying to you earlier in the week when my business was hit,
by the Guild mind you, and everything in the house was destroyed or worse yet
anything of value stolen? What would have been your answer? ‘Oh, I appreciate
your work, but our coffers are rather thin at the moment.’ Well I wonder why?”
Laila’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Anger built within them, “I
understand you are angry, but making such baseless accusations is beneath you.
Furthermore, you have gone too far speaking to me in that tone.”
They had not previously noticed the small crowd of witnesses standing close to
the heavy doors of the great hall, but when one emerged and approached the
throne, all eyes were upon him. He was of average height, but his presence
filled the room. Dark warpaint crossed his facial features, giving him a savage
look. Adding to it was the dark wolf armor and ferocity in his silver eyes.
When he spoke, his voice sounded like a growl.
“Begging your pardon, Jarl Laila, I am Farkas, a Companion of Jorrvaskr and
husband to the Dragonborn, Aria. I bear witness to the truth of this man’s
claims. My wife recovered some of his stolen property from Maul and his brother
shortly after both men broke into his home and business.”
“What does this have to do with his accusations of this break-in being a Guild
hit?” She asked as her eyes flicked to the commotion at the door. Maven had
stormed in with Brynjolf on her heels. Behind them came Asgeir Snow-Shod and
the elf who had rescued Kirsli from what could have been a watery grave.
“The recovery was made from the deceased in the Ratway at the Ragged Flagon.”
Farkas said. “I know you are aware of my wife’s vendetta against the Guild. The
two of you spoke of it just yesterday when you offered to make her a Thane of
your court if she carried out a certain task for you. I know if she were here
this wouldn’t be such an issue.”
Laila pursed her lips, eyes flicking from Farkas to Balimund then briefing
glancing over the rest of the gathered crowd. “And where is the Dragonborn?”
Balimund replied, “The services of Danica Pure-Spring, Priestess of Kynareth,
are needed to save Kirsli. She’s the only one with the skill powerful enough to
have a chance. Aria is the only one quick enough to make to Whiterun and back.
She left a couple hours ago.”
The knee that Maul had kicked gave out again and Balimund went down, breathing
heavily. He knelt on the floor, groaning as he nearly blacked out from the
pain.
“My Jarl, I must insist this be continued at another time. This man is in need
of healing. I will personally escort him to the Temple and stay with him.”
Sigfrost helped Balimund to his feet, steadying him as much as he could.
“And will you take personal responsibility if he tries to run away, Guardsman?”
She asked.
“I will, though I do not believe that will happen. His business is here as well
as Kirsli. I do not believe he would willingly leave either.”
“Very well, Guardsman. Take our blacksmith to the Temple. We will continue on
without him. Is there anyone present who will speak in your defense, Balimund?”
Balimund’s eyes flicked from Laila to Farkas, who nodded. “Farkas will, my
Jarl.”
Farkas gently clapped a hand upon Balimund’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry about
anything here. I’ll take care of it. You just focus on Kirsli.”
Balimund inclined his head, ever thankful for his friendship with Aria and
Farkas.
“Then you may head to the Temple. I very much would like to see what has
befallen Kirsli for myself. I will be stopping by when this is over.” Laila
promised before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.
The impromptu trial continued after Sigfrost escorted Balimund out of the keep.
Maven saw his departure as her chance to convince Jarl Laila that her
bodyguard, Maul had nothing to do with the attack on Kirsli or anything to do
with the alleged break-in of the blacksmith’s shop. It was merely a smear
campaign perpetrated by the Dragonborn.
Then Valindor bravely stepped forth. He knew full well what speaking out
against Maven meant, but the truth had to be heard. His hands shook slightly as
he described what he had witnessed and how he had pulled her from the water.
Maven glared, incensed at being made a fool of. The elf would regret crossing
her. The Dark Brotherhood was no longer an option, but there were other ways.
She had other connections. She interjected, vehemently accusing Laila of taking
the word of this elf over hers.
While Laila believed the elf’s story, she also knew Maven was a force to be
reckoned with. The final straw, however, came as Asgeir Snow-Shod came forth,
validating Alcindor’s story. It was well known that Asgeir was Maven’s business
partner. He had put up the money for her to get the Meadery up and running. It
had been a profitable investment, but that didn’t mean he agreed with all of
her practices. He certainly wasn’t willing to look the other way when a young
woman’s life was at stake.
Asgeir had watched Kirsli struggle during her time on the streets. There had
been more than a few times he had given her a few coins because he couldn’t
bear to see her go hungry. He had also made it possible for her to find work on
the Snow-Shod farm. She was a pretty little thing, but it seemed fate had dealt
her a bad hand.
His testimony was cause for Jarl Laila to declare Balimund’s actions just. It
seemed they truly were warranted. Furthermore, she cautioned against
retribution. One death and one life hanging in the balance had sowed enough
discord for one day. She would not see her city turned into a battleground just
because two factions could not get along.
~*~
Jarl Laila was joined by her housecarl, Unmid, as well as Farkas on the short
walk to the Temple. Activity inside was focused on the well-being of their two
patients. Unmid’s mother, Nura, was working on Balimund’s many injuries while
Maramal and Dinya took turns channeling their healing magic into Kirsli’s
unconscious form. It was still unknown, however, if she would make it through
the night. Her pulse was weak and her breathing shallow. They had determined
she had many life-threatening injuries, some of which gave extreme cause for
concern. Magic alone may not be enough. Her survival largely depended upon her
will to live.
Maramal took a short break, not only because Jarl Laila was present, but due to
nearly depleting his magicka. He inclined his head before her. “My Jarl, it is
always a pleasure to have you in our humble temple, but I am afraid this is not
the best of times.”
Laila held her hand up, “As I am aware, good priest. I came to see for my own
eyes the victim of such a vicious and unwarranted attack. How does she fare?”
His solemn expression spoke volumes. “Poorly, my Jarl, but she is young and by
all accounts a fighter. We have been able to determine she has a cracked skull,
multiple broken ribs, a punctured lung as well as multiple other broken bones.
It is in the hands of the Divines now whether she survives. All we can do is
give her as much comfort as we can.”
A grave expression crossed the Jarl’s face as she entered the room Kirsli was
in. She gasped at the sight of the brutally battered young woman. That she was
still alive after the horror that she had been through was a testament to her
tenacity, to her will to live. It was a sobering realization of what really
occurred in her city. She had been aware of how tight the Guild held Riften in
its grip despite its decline in prominence over the last several years, largely
because of Maven. But even then, they hadn’t stooped to doing something like
this. This was monstrous compared to the petty theft the Guild was known for.
Perhaps it was time to stop relying on Maven and actually do something about
the Guild. And she knew just the person who would be eager to assist.
Laila pulled up a chair, sitting beside Balimund. Upon her face was a very
sorrowful expression, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. None one should
have to go through what that young woman had and she could see now that she was
to blame. She had grown lax in her rule, allowing Maven to all but take over.
No more, she vowed. She was the Jarl and she would make amends starting with
Balimund.
“I owe you an apology. I have been a fool, especially to doubt someone as
forthright and honest as you. I should have known you would have not committed
such an act without due cause. I am prepared to make amends. Justice will be
done. You have my word. When you are able, I want you to come to the keep.”
A lump formed in Balimund’s throat. He had not expected to hear those words
from her. While he could see the sincerity in her eyes, something cautioned him
to be wary. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that matters would only grow
worse before they got any better.
It was always darkest before the dawn. From his viewpoint, the dawn was a long
ways off.
~*~
Miraculously, Kirsli made it through the night, though she had yet to wake up.
Aria arrived with Danica near dawn. Though she was tired from the ride, Danica
immediately took over for the exhausted Maramal and Dinya.
Kirsli’s condition was still dire. Since the Civil War had begun as well as the
return of the dragons, the priestess had seen an increase in the need for her
services, but even the worst cases didn’t compare to what lay before her. She
used her healing arts on the most urgent of the injuries, but there was only so
much magical healing could fix. Most of the mending would be up to her body’s
ability to bounce back. She was young and healthy. Danica had faith all would
be well.
As for Balimund, Nura had patched him up to the best of her ability. His ribs
had been bound tightly, as had his knee. The healing she had performed on him
had taken care of the bruises and abrasions. The rest would take some time.
Balimund wouldn’t leave Kirsli’s side. He had orders to see to, but Kirsli was
far more important to him. Aria had already told him to take care of Kirsli
first, that her order could wait a while. She had gotten a message from a
contact about the dragon menace just as she had reached Whiterun and had to see
to that. So it would be a while before she could bring her housecarls to
Riften.
Weeks passed, her injuries were healing, but she had not awoken. Balimund
worried for her. He prayed to Mara and Kynareth, beseeching them to bring her
back to him. To come this far. He couldn’t bear that she might not wake up.
He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t wake. Danica had warned him of
the possibility before she departed for Whiterun. She had done all she could.
The rest was up to Kirsli’s will.
In another turn of events, Jarl Laila not only paid Balimund for what she owed
him, she also extracted restitution from Maven as well. It came with a dire
warning for the Black-Briar matriarch. No longer would she tolerate Maven’s
overstepping her bounds. While she was an important citizen of the city, she
was not its ruler and never would be. Jarl Laila would no longer cater to
Maven’s every whim. She had had her eyes opened and finally saw Maven for what
she was.
If it meant that Maven took her business elsewhere, so be it. Another meadery
backed by the Companions of Jorrvaskr, though primarily Aria, would love to
expand and fill the void such vacancy would create.
As Kirsli’s seventeenth birthday came and went without the young woman waking
it was time to face the inevitable. She may never wake up. It came as a
crushing blow to Balimund. As much as he wanted to remain in denial, to believe
she’d wake up and everything would be fine, he had to face the facts.
Her body had healed, but she was gone.
And it would take a miracle to get her back.
Then Aria came to him with a plan. It would be risky and it might fail, but it
was a chance.
There was nothing left to lose at this point. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he
didn’t try. He gave the go ahead, praying it would bring the woman he loved
back to him.

oOo
...
 
***** The Dreamstride *****
Chapter Summary
     The Dreamstride brings Kirsli back.
Chapter Notes
     Special thanks to my best friend and awesome beta for help with this
     chapter. I couldn't have completed this one with her!
It took Aria a week to get to Dawnstar and come back with Erandur, the Dunmer
priest of Mara she’d helped several months prior. After Aria explained what had
happened to Kirsli and confided her suspicions, he agreed with her assessment
and was more than willing to aid her. He gathered the necessary ingredients
he’d need for the torpor. She assured him he’d have access to an alchemy lab
and the needed privacy to brew the potion since it was a secret known only to
priests of Vaermina.
It was early morning when they arrived back in Riften. Erandur immediately
started on the potion, stating he would rest once the ritual was complete. Aria
gave him the time and space he needed while she, Iona and Farkas left the
house. They headed over to Balimund’s, finding him at his forge.
Aria leveled a concerned look at the blacksmith. He looked haggard, dark
circles and heavy bags under his eyes. His face was drawn, his eyes hollow. It
was almost as if he had given up. She hoped he hadn’t, not completely. She
approached him, resting her hand on his shoulder. Sympathy and determination
filled her eyes. “Everything is going to work out fine, my friend. You’ll see.”
A flash of doubt crossed his face before he quickly schooled his features. He
wanted to believe her plan would work, but there had been so much failure. He
nodded his head, not trusting his voice to speak. He dropped the blade he was
working on into the trough of water, quenching it thoroughly before motioning
to the house.
Aria followed him inside, intently watching his every move. It was easy to see
the toll this tragedy had taken upon him. He wasn’t the same person she’d met a
year ago. He was somber and morose. And quiet. Almost like he was locked in a
shell. She hoped this would bring him out of his despair as much as she hoped
the ritual would bring Kirsli out of her catatonic state.
“I conferred with Erandur when I reached Dawnstar and he agrees with me. As I
told you before I left, I believe that Kirsli hasn’t woken up because she’s
been trapped by a Daedric Lord. Vaermina, to be precise. She is the Daedric
Prince of dreams, nightmares and psychological torture. In the simplest terms,
what happened to Kirsli attracted the notice of Vaermina who has trapped her in
a never-ending nightmare. The potion Erandur is brewing is called Vaermina’s
Torpor. With the torpor, you’ll be able to break the cycle by saving her from
what happened.” Aria explained to him.
She took note of the skepticism and alarm on his face. “How will I be able to
save her?”
Aria chuckled softly, “It has to do with how the torpor works. Usually you’re
viewing the memories of another through their eyes. At least when I used it to
stop the nightmares in Dawnstar, I was viewing one of Erandur’s memories from a
time when he was a priest of Vaermina. I believe once you enter the Dreamstride
you can follow her thus saving Kirsli from Maul, so Vaermina will no longer
have a hold on her. And Erandur will be here providing Mara’s grace to ensure
both of you make it out safely. It won’t change what happened. That’s something
she will have to deal with once she’s awake, but she’ll have all of us to help
her through it.”
Balimund rubbed his face with his hands. He couldn’t even begin to wrap his
head around this scheme. “You said before you left this plan of yours was
dangerous and may not work, but you didn’t say why or how. Now you’re telling
me a Daedric Lord is involved and I have to rescue her with a potion. Do you
have any idea how crazy this sounds?”
“All too well, Balimund,” she gave him a hopeful look. “The key to getting her
back is turning the nightmare into a normal dream. You’ve always told her you
will protect her. She can’t break out of it until then. She’s waiting for you.
I think it’ll be clear to you once the ritual begins.”
He nodded his head. “I just want her back. She’s here. I can walk into that
room and see her lying on the bed, but it’s not the same.” His voice cracked.
“You know I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Aria hugged him tightly. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
“Thank you, Aria,” he whispered against the top of her head. He hugged her
back, just as tightly.
She smiled widely, “Anytime, dear friend.”
~*~
Erandur joined Aria several hours later with the potion vial in hand.  He
greeted Balimund and further explained what could possibly happen during the
Dreamstride. Much of it Balimund had already heard from Aria. A skeptical look
still graced the smith’s face.
“What troubles you, my son?” He pushed back the hood of his cloak, bestowing
upon Balimund a sincere gaze.
“I have always lived a simple life. I work with my hands. I produce the finest
weapons. This is beyond anything I have ever experienced.”
“I can tell you still have doubts, but all will be clear soon enough.” Erandur
glanced down at Kirsli’s sleeping form. “I will be here watching over you. If I
sense something amiss, I will use my arts to bring you back. You have but to
drink.”
The dark elf priest extended his hand holding the vial of Vaermina’s Torpor,
giving it to Balimund. “This young woman’s fate rests in that vial. I’ve done
all I can. You must do the rest. I understand your hesitation, but I have faith
this will work. You can bring her back. In fact, you are the only one who can.”
Balimund drew in a deep breath. He licked his lips, uncorking the bottle. His
eyes flicked from Erandur to Aria then down at Kirsli. He spoke in a determined
tone, “I will bring her back.”
He drank all of the torpor, cringing at the taste. It was worse than rotten
eggs and spoiled milk. When the hazy vision cleared, he noted he was no longer
in Kirsli’s bedchamber. Riften’s Marketplace stretched out before him. He could
see his forge and the guards flanking the door that led to the docks. That was
where he needed to go. He walked around the market and stopped at his forge.
Reaching out a hand he touched the anvil he worked on and it felt real - cool
and hard to the touch as always. He quickly walked towards his finished weapons
and chose the best one of the bunch. It had been commissioned by the Jarl
herself for her son, so he knew it would serve him well. He sheathed it, and
proceeded to walk towards the door that led to the docks, which was flanked by
guards. The guards nodded and one of them asked him what he was doing there.
“I’m here on the Jarl’s orders,” he declared in a serious voice. “If you wish I
can bring her out here and she can make you spend the rest of your shift
cleaning out the latrines in the guard barracks.”
“You may pass,” shuddered the guard closest to him.
Balimund quickly opened the door and closed it behind him. It was unreal to be
touching everyday objects and to know it was a dream at the same time. The only
thing he could see as dreamlike was a certain haziness to the landscape. Aside
from that everything immediately in front of and behind him was crystal clear
and as real as anything was in the waking world.
Marveling at this world would get him nowhere so he shook his head to clear it
and advanced on the wooden planks to his first destination. He heard a scream
and rushed forward, recognizing Kirsli’s voice instantly.
“Let me go, you brute! I will NOT let you touch me! I won’t!” Kirsli shouted as
Balimund unsheathed the sword and rushed forward.
Maul let her go, to turn and face his attacker. He jeered at Balimund,
unsheathing his own weapons immediately. “You wanna piece of her? Well, you
can’t have her, she’s mine!”
“Let her go you monster!” Balimund declared. “I’ve killed you in the real
world. I’m not afraid of killing you here!”
Their weapons clashed and Kirsli smiled at Balimund before he managed to slice
Maul’s arm. The thug stepped back clutching his forearm as the blood poured
out.
“I’m not done with you!” Balimund yelled as he moved in to stab him again. But
Maul was ready for him.  He swung his weapon around and brought it down,
thinking to crush Balimund, but Balimund was already gone from the spot,
stabbing Maul’s side in the process.
The thief dropped down on his knees.
“Please, let me live. I prefer to face the Jarl than your blade!” Maul
whimpered as Balimund stood only inches away, his sword raised.
“Did you ask Kirsli if she preferred to leave before you brutally raped and
beat her? Did you ask her if she was in pain? If she needed for you to call the
Jarl to help her? Did you tell her to simply leave and let her live? You
bastard! You will DIE for what you’ve done!”
Balimund stepped forward and stabbed him with his weapon. The sword went into
Maul’s chest, clearly slicing his heart open and the tip appeared on the other
side of Maul’s body. The thief gave a gurgling moan and sank to the wooden
floor, dead.
“Balimund! You came to help me! You saved me!” Kirsli rushed to his open arms.
“I will always save you and love you with all my heart,” Balimund whispered.
“Come back to me, honey! I beg you!”
The whole landscape changed dramatically, and suddenly he was no longer on the
docks, but sitting in a chair in front of Kirsli’s bed. And Kirsli was looking
up at him, her eyes wide open. She smiled up at him and he felt so much
happiness he couldn’t even talk.
“Balimund!” Kirsli whispered holding out her arms.
And the tears Balimund had been holding back finally fell as he rushed to take
Kirsli in his arms, thanking the gods for this miracle.
“Blessed Mara! You’re back, Kirsli honey. You’re back!”
~*~
In the days that followed, Balimund kept himself busy attending to Kirsli and
making her feel safe and protected again. It wasn’t an easy task, but this was
Balimund and if there was something he had in spades, it was patience. Even
though Kirsli was sleeping beside him, he kept his hands to himself and was
always around to help her. He did the cleaning for her and helped her do the
shopping, he was even nearby as he watched her cook with a grin. He was happy.
Kirsli was alive and with him, and that brought a smile to his face all the
time. Even when he was at the forge working. The haggard appearance he had
started to develop was disappearing and a smile was on his face more often than
not.
Erandur stopped by twice to take a look at Kirsli and see how she was faring.
Although she shrank away from him, grabbing Balimund’s hand, she did manage to
thank him both times, her eyes lowering to the floor as Balimund and Erandur
conversed briefly about other things.
Aria had been by Kirsli’s side the first week after she woke up. Kirsli and
Aria became close friends. Soon Balimund managed to finish the armor sets for
Aria’s housecarls, who had arrived in Riften as soon as Kirsli was brought back
from her nightmare. They were fitted into the most gorgeous and strong
Dragonbone armor Kirsli had ever seen. Aria paid Balimund double what he asked
for and although he protested, he took the money when Aria teasingly threatened
to shout him to bits if he didn’t.

During one of Aria’s visits to Balimund’s forge, he brought up the subject of
furthering Kirsli’s studies at the school she’d talked about in the Imperial
City. Not that he wanted to see her go, but he still believed it was the best
thing for her. A bark of laughter slipped from Aria’s lips.
“What’s so funny, Aria?” Balimund asked with a grin.
“We’re deciding her future. Don’t you know Kirsli by now? We shouldn’t do this
for her. She should be the one to decide!” Aria said with a laugh.
“We can talk to her over dinner tonight, if you aren’t busy?” Balimund asked, a
sheepish grin on his face.
“Well, Farkas was needed back at Jorrvaskr. So I could cook some dinner for the
both of you, would that be alright?” Aria asked with a grin. “Argis, Lydia,
Jordis and Iona may have to fend for themselves though. It might be for the
best if I send Argis out of the house. Wouldn’t want to scare Kirsli.”
“That would be more than alright. I’ll tell Kirsli once I go inside to clean
up,” Balimund smiled back.
And so, that afternoon, Balimund closed up shop early and stepped into the
house. Kirsli was washing some clothes in the basement, and he greeted her with
a smile planting a kiss her on her brow lightly. Then he turned and rolled up
his sleeves to wash up, although he was thinking of taking a bath before
dressing for dinner with Aria.
“Kirsli honey, Aria has invited us both to dinner,” Balimund said as he took a
towel to dry himself. “Would that be alright with you?” He turned to look at
her and saw her smiling up at him.
Her eyes brightened. “I would love to. Let me finish up here and change into
something nice.” She hung the clothing up on the lines strung up in the
basement then raced up the stairs as quick as her feet could carry her.
After brushing her hair out, she pulled on a pretty dark red and white dress
and pulled on a pair of matching ankle boots. Balimund joined her a while later
after he bathed and slipped into a simple blue tunic and loose trousers.
She smiled at him, “Asbjorn was just here.”
Balimund raised an eyebrow, “Oh? I hope all is well.”
“It is. Constance wants me to stop over tomorrow. I guess she has something she
wants to tell me.” Kirsli sighed. “It’s a shame I missed their wedding.”
“I know, but you were there… in a sense. I attended. I was in the temple
because I refused to leave your side. I know I’ve said it before and will
probably keep saying it, but I am so happy to have you back.” He embraced her
tightly and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Are we ready to head over
to Aria’s?”
Kirsli nodded. She really hadn’t been out of the house much since awakening
from her catatonic state. She accepted his arm, holding onto it rather tightly.
He led her past the market and the inn to the other side of the canal where
Aria’s home, Honeyside sat. Many of the people they passed greeted them,
offering glad tidings.
Aria greeted them at the door just as her housecarls headed out, opting to have
dinner at the Bee and Barb. All four were dressed in casual clothes. Without
the armor Balimund had crafted for them, they didn’t look as fierce as usual,
though the sight of Argis with his scars and face paint caused Kirsli to press
against Balimund’s side. The smith wrapped his arm around her, quietly
reassuring her that everything was alright.
The house hadn’t changed much since Kirsli had last been in it. Near the door
was the hearth, round dinner table, shelving full of cheeses and produce, and a
stone oven. Further into the room were weapon cases and racks, armor stands, an
alchemy and enchanting lab as well as shelving full of alchemy components and
soul gems. Past that near the ladder leading to the basement was a small
library nook. The shelves were overfull of books and various trinkets Aria had
collected on her many adventures.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Aria smiled genuinely at the both of them.
“Food’s almost done. We can eat in or if you prefer, on the porch since it’s a
nice evening out.”
Kirsli glanced up at Balimund.
“It’s up to you, honey,” he replied as he rubbed her lower back soothingly.
“I’m right here with you.”
Kirsli drew in a deep breath. She really did want to be outside, but she wasn’t
sure if she was ready to look at the docks yet. She knew, however, that sooner
or later she would have to face her fears. Although her heart was racing
frantically, she made her decision. “The porch sounds nice. I remember it being
a pretty view.”
“Then I shall go set the table outside,” Aria stated as she grabbed a few place
settings to take to the porch.
While Aria busied herself with that, Balimund pulled Kirsli into his arms,
holding her tightly. “I’m proud of you, honey.”
She looked up at him with eyes gleaming full of love, “I’m okay. If it’s too
much, I’ll let you know. I’m just so lucky to have you through all of this. You
have been my rock and I know you’ll always be here for me.”
A fond smile crossed his face as his heart filled to the brim with love for
her, “I always will be.”
Aria called them moments later. “It’s all ready, though if you’d rather live in
your own little world, that’s fine too. You’re just so adorable together.” She
winked at them as her voice adopted a teasing tone.
Balimund adopted a lopsided grin, “Says the woman whose husband follows her
around like an overgrown puppy.” He placed his hand on the small of Kirsli’s
back, escorting her out onto the porch.
Aria laughed out loud, “Farkas tries to be a big bad wolf, but he has such a
big heart. Makes me wish he were here right now, but there was business that he
and his brother Vilkas had to take care of.” The blonde Nord glanced out at the
lake, pining for her love. She would see him soon, that much she knew for sure.
“Shall we?”
Upon the table sat a sumptuous repast. Kirsli’s eyes grew large, her mouth
watered and her stomach rumbled. She chose one of the seats not facing the
docks. Balimund sat next to her and Aria chose the empty seat across from her.
They made light conversation while they dined. Once they had finished, Aria
cleared the table, serving pie and coffee. It was then she broached the reason
she’d had them over for dinner.
“Have you given any more thought to the finishing school we’d spoken about
before the attack, Kirsli?” Aria asked quite bluntly.
Kirsli’s eyes grew wide. As panic set in, Balimund placed a reassuring hand
over hers, leveling a glare upon her. “Honey, I’m here. It’s alright.” His
voice was soft and gentle. Kirsli nodded and sucked in a deep breath, releasing
it slowly.
“I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask me that, Aria. I… I want to go. I
– It’s just –“
“I didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did. I’ve been in contact with the
headmistress of the school and she’s accepted you as a student. I was just
curious if you were still interested. Besides, I wouldn’t ship you off to
Cyrodiil all by yourself. I’d go with you to make sure you get settled in
safely.” Aria replied warmly. A smile graced her face.
An incredulous mien graced Kirsli’s lovely face, “You will go with me?”
“Of course I will, sweetie. You are a dear friend and as your sponsor to the
school, it is my honor to be there with you.” Aria placed her hand over those
of Balimund’s and Kirsli’s.
Balimund winked at her, “And I will go with you as well, honey. Asbjorn can
take care of the forge until I get back. I wouldn’t dream of sending you off
alone.”
Kirsli smiled, her apprehension and fear melted away. “I want to go. Knowing
you both will travel to Cyrodiil with me means the world to me. I’m looking
forward to it.”
“Excellent!” Aria beamed. “I will make the arrangements then. I believe it’ll
be quickest to take a ship. I’ll make the inquiries and take care of the fare.”
She caught Balimund’s frown. “Don’t argue with me. I have a friend in Solitude
that owns a ship.”
Kirsli snickered, “You should know not to argue with her by now. You never
win.”
He flashed a mock glower at Kirsli, “Hey! Whose side are you on anyway?” Then
he burst out laughing, knowing they were both right. “Fine, we’ll take the
ship. I leave it all in your capable hands.”
Iona, Lydia, Jordis and Argis joined them a few moments later, each of them
pulling up a stool by the railing of the porch. Kirsli stiffened a tiny bit,
but relaxed as Balimund gripped her hand. It was Aria who chose to address the
issue. “Kirsli sweetie, I know you are still somewhat scared when it comes to
being around intimidating looking men, but Argis would never hurt you. In fact
as a friend of mine, I’m pretty damn sure he’d protect you with his life.”
“I sure would, Kirsli. You have nothing to fear from me.” Argis spoke up. “If I
could ever help you, let me know. I’d be willing to help train you to fight.”
A genuine smile graced her lips, “Thank you. I think I’d like that. Aria and
Farkas started to train me before their wedding. I’d like to learn more before
I leave for school.”
“Then we’ll all help.” Jordis spoke up.
“It’ll be fun.” Iona agreed, “How about sometime tomorrow?”
“Weren’t we going to dragon hunt tomorrow?” Lydia spoke up.
Argis scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Way to dampen the poor girl’s confidence,
Lyd. We can go on a dragon hunt anytime. I think helping her would be better,
but if you want to go on a hunt, go for it. You’d make for fine dragon bait.”
“You don’t have to change your plans for me,” Kirsli shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m going to spend some time with Constance at Honorhall, but I won’t be all
day.”
Jordis tapped her fingers against the wooden railing, “Oh, we could do some
training in the morning, and then go on our hunt in the afternoon. That dragon
has been spotted up on Lost Tongue Overlook for the past several days so it
should still be there.”
“Sounds good to me,” Iona said after she drained her mug of ale, “Argis?”
“I’m in,” he agreed. “Lydia?”
“I bet I can bring it down before you even get your sword out of your sheath,”
the dark haired female quipped back.
“We’ll see about that, sweetcheeks,” Argis guffawed, his one good eye twinkling
with delight. “Are you coming with us, Thane?”
Aria shook her head, “I’m more inclined to shout your stubborn ass out into the
water for calling me ‘Thane.’ You know I hate it.”
Argis let out a bark of laughter, “That’s why I do it.”
“You are a brave man. It was nice knowing you.” Balimund chuckled as he spoke
up.
A lopsided grin crossed Argis’ handsome face, “She won’t shout me across the
lake and we both know it.” He winked at her. “It’s my job to keep her on her
toes.”
“And it’s not like he doesn’t know my name. There was a time when I had him
screaming it passionately, of course that was before Farkas and I were ever a
couple.” She stuck her tongue out and blew him a raspberry. “And yes, if
there’s to be a dragon hunt, I’m going with you.”
“I’m gonna grab another drink. Does anyone want too?” Iona asked as she headed
for the back door of the house. Argis, Jordis and Lydia all asked for another.
Moments later Iona came back out with a concerned look on her face. “I think I
heard something downstairs. Do you want me to check it out?”
Aria rubbed a hand over her face. “No, I will. I might be nothing. But if it is
something, and if it turns out to be what I think it is, we are going to spit-
roast a rat.”
Balimund shook his head, “Are you still having trouble with them?”
“I thought I had come to an agreement with Brynjolf the last time I went down
to the Ragged Flagon and killed a couple of their people. Looks like I may have
to do it again.” Aria gritted through clenched teeth. It made her wonder what
had pissed Maven Black-Briar off this time. Maybe the time had come to deal
with Maven once and for all. She had been putting it off, but if they were
going to break into one of her homes while she was here, that was going too
far.
Of course she wouldn’t get ahead of herself just yet. She’d have to find out
what the noise was that Iona heard.
Balimund pushed himself out of his chair. “This might be a good time for Kirsli
and I to head on home. I thank you for having us over.”
“It was my pleasure. I’ll make the arrangements and let you know when we sail,
but I’m sure we’ll see each other before then. Take care.” Aria hugged both of
them, escorting them through the house to the front door before she turned the
stairs to the basement.
It was time to catch a rat.
~*~
***** Vendetta *****
Chapter Summary
     Aria catches a rat and Brynjolf realizes more is going on than he
     ever imagined.
Chapter Notes
     Warning for character death.
     This chapter pretty much belongs to Aria. She stole the show and ran
     away with it. I needed to start to tie up some loose plot strings and
     this one just worked nicely. It's a little shorter than my usual
     chapters. Hopefully the next chapter will make up for it.
     Shouts:
     Unrelenting Force - Fus Ro Dah - Force Balance Push
     Aura Whisper - Laas Yah Nir - Life Seek Hunt
     Storm Call - Strun Bah Qo - Storm Wrath Lightning
Chapter_Twenty-One:_Vendetta
Earlier that evening
The Breton Guild Master, Mercer Frey, looked up from the note that had just
been handed to him by Thrynn, growling. Maven must be out of her mind to make
such demands. He shouted across the Cistern at his ginger-haired second-in-
command, who had been sitting near Sapphire, their heads close together as they
chatted amongst themselves, “Brynjolf! Get your ass over here!”
Mercer watched as Brynjolf hastened over to his side, a weary ‘what now?’
plastered on his handsome face, “Yes, Mercer?”
“I have orders from Maven, but we are going to have to be very careful about
how this is carried out. I want you to bring me Vex.” Mercer replied, and even
though he glanced sideways at Brynjolf, he didn’t quite make eye contact.
Brynjolf’s brow furrowed. “What’s the job?”
“Fetch me Vex and I’ll tell you both when she’s here. Have I made myself
clear?” Mercer growled through clenched teeth.
Something didn’t seem right, the ginger thief mused as he headed for the
Flagon. Suspicion roiled in his gut and he didn’t like it one bit. It didn’t
take him long to bring Vex over into the Cistern, despite the fact he took a
few moments to caution her that something was up, something that he didn’t
like.
“Good, you’re both here.” Mercer glanced at both of them as he crossed his arms
in front of his chest.
Brynjolf scowled, “What is this about, Mercer?”
Mercer ignored his second’s question as he turned to the equally scowling
blonde standing beside Brynjolf. “Maven is requesting your infiltration skills
for a job, Vex. A certain Thane of Jarl Laila’s court has an object that she
wants to get her hands on. She wants the Blade of Woe recovered, the very same
blade once carried by Astrid. Search the house here in Riften. If it isn’t
here, then we’ll have to break into her other houses, Markarth, Solitude,
Whiterun, and Falkreath.”
Brynjolf protested loudly, “Are you serious, Mercer? You want to send Vex into
the Dragonborn’s home, knowing what she’s done in the past to us? Knowing what
the lass is?”
“According to Maven, no one is home at present because they were all at the Bee
and Barb. Now is the time to do it.” Mercer retorted, his face an angry mask.
“Maven wants this and she won’t accept a failure.”
Vex glared at Mercer then glanced at Brynjolf. “That bitch killed Tonilia for
no reason. It’s about time we got some payback. I’ll find what Maven wants,
even if I have to rip that house to shreds. If it’s not here I’ll head for
Whiterun.”
Brynjolf shook his head, watching Vex leave the Cistern. He had a bad feeling
about this. A very bad feeling. He knew Aria wouldn’t take too kindly to them
breaking into her home, not after Maul had nearly killed the little red-headed
lass.
~*~
After Aria had said her goodbyes to Balimund and Kirsli, she quickly cast an
invisibility spell upon herself and crept to the ladder leading to the
basement. She stilled her breathing, listening carefully, then made her way
down the ladder. She crouched down at the bottom of it, listening again. There
was a noise coming from her bedroom.
“Laas Yah Nir,” she whispered, letting her Aura Whisper shout reveal any and
all life forces that might be in the house.
The shout detected one. The same one who had caused the noise moments earlier.
Aria crept to the doorway, peaking in. A lone figure in the black Guild armor
was rummaging through her safe at this very moment. Aria really didn’t keep
anything valuable in there. She imagined the thief was mighty disappointed to
have gone through all the trouble of opening it only to discover it held a
handful of burned books she’d collected from various Nordic ruins. Aria wasn’t
stupid, though. All of her real valuables were in Whiterun, guarded by the
Companions.
But this invasion of her property begged the question of just what she was
going to go with the thief. She had had enough of the Thieves’ Guild. It was
more than obvious that Brynjolf had gone back on his word. Whoever this was had
come into her home and Aria wasn’t about to forgive such a trespass.
She moved closer, within a few feet, noticing the thief was female with blonde
hair. Aria had seen this woman before in the Ragged Flagon. The burned books
were spread out at her feet. The thief had emptied other strongboxes of their
contents, but it was mostly books and other clutter. No shiny trinkets that
thieves delighted in.
“FUS RO DAH!” Aria unleashed the Unrelenting Force from her throat straight at
the blonde thief, sending her crashing into the back wall a few feet away.
Straightening herself, Aria dashed into a nearby room which held a small forge
and found a length of rope in one of the supply chests. She returned to her
bedroom with it and knelt beside the thief. A cursory check revealed the blonde
was still breathing. Aria quickly tied her up and donned her armor. She dragged
the thief up the stairs, uncaring if it caused any damage. By the time Aria was
done with her, these few bumps and bruises wouldn’t matter.
Then she poked her head out onto her back porch where her housecarls were still
lounging. Lydia was at the far end by herself, drinking from a bottle of wine
while Jordis and Iona each occupied one of Argis’ knees. Jordis and Argis were
kissing while Iona nibbled at his ear and neck. It didn’t take a genius to
realize what the three of them would be doing later. A growl rumbled in Aria’s
throat. Without Farkas here, she wasn’t in the mood to listen to her housecarls
fucking all night.
Interrupting their fun right now, however, would be worth it. Oh, they wouldn’t
be happy about it, but that was what made it fun for her. Aria snickered.
“Hey, caught me a rat,” she called out, “Armor up. We’re gonna roast it.”
Lydia jumped from her seat with an excited shout while Argis groaned. He leaned
his honey blond head against Jordis’ chest, muttering under his breath over
Thane Aria’s bad timing. Jordis and Iona frowned, begrudgingly pushing
themselves from Argis’ lap. They joined Lydia and headed into the house, giving
Argis some time to readjust himself.
When the housecarls were all armored up, though, they made for a formidable
sight. Argis looked every bit of the fierce warrior he was in his Dragonbone
armor. Lydia’s sculptured ebony armor looked more like a catsuit as it fit the
contours of her body like a glove. Iona and Jordis both wore blackened dragon
scale. The process to blacken the scales had caused Balimund no small amount of
headaches, but considering the end result looked so fantastic, it was worth it.
That didn’t mean he wanted to do it again.
Aria dragged the bound thief out onto the porch and down to the small boat tied
to her dock. Then she added a few other things she would need. Her housecarls
joined her. And though Argis grumbled slightly, he took up the oars and rowed
them out the island that Goldenglow had once sat upon. He found a place to tie
up the boat and they all climbed up on the shore.
Aria bade Argis to carry the thief while Lydia and Iona grabbed the supplies.
Once Aria had found the right spot, she quickly dug a shallow pit not more than
eighteen inches deep, long enough to fit a person inside. She lined it with
dried kindling, dumping upon that a layer of fire salts, and set it aflame with
her fire breath. When she had a good layer of coals, she divested the thief of
her armor and rested her on the flame. Then she covered her form with the dirt
she’d previously removed.
It wasn’t long before the thief woke up from being knocked out by the
Unrelenting Force shout, screaming as fire licked her skin. Aria grinned in
satisfaction, even as her housecarls raised their eyebrows at the lengths she
would go. After a particularly loud piercing scream echoed across the quiet
night sky, she pulled the greatsword from her back and brought it down across
the thief’s throat, effectively decapitating her.
A cold, hard glare crossed the Dragonborn’s face. She scooped up the severed
head, its features twisted in horrific death throes. She stuffed it in a burlap
sack, turning to her housecarls. “To the Ratway,” she simply stated.
~*~
The dingy corridors hadn’t changed much since the last time she had entered the
Ratway. Quickly she traversed them with her housecarls trailing behind her. The
Ragged Flagon was near empty, the barkeep the only person in sight. Aria calmly
approached him, knowing full well he wouldn’t appreciate her being here. She
had killed his lover the last time she was down here.
A dark scowl crossed his face, “You have no business here. I suggest you
leave.” Then he returned to sweeping the floor.
“I will as soon as I see your Guild Master.” Aria responded with a sharp tone
to her voice. “Tell him the Harbinger of the Companions requests a meeting.”
She glanced to the right as she picked up the sound of two voices to the right
of her. Under her breath she whispered, “Laas Yah Nir.” Her shout detected two
auras in the corridor leading to the Cistern. She could smell their hearts
beating, knew one of the voices belonged to Brynjolf, the other though… perhaps
the bald headed man she’d seen the last time she was here.
Since the barkeep didn’t seem too inclined to acquiesce to her request, she
would take matters into her own hands. She marched towards the voices, finding
them just inside the small room she and Brynjolf had fought in the last time
she was here.
“Brynjolf,” Aria flashed a wicked grin at him.
The rather frantic yet heated conversation carried out by the two men before
her came to a halt as the ginger haired one looked over at her, frowning, “Yes,
lass?”
“Perhaps you’ll be more likely to carry out my request than your barman was. As
Harbinger of the Companions, I request a meeting with your Guild Master… NOW!”
At first her demeanor was calm then it changed in an instant. Her eyes glowed
silver, her teeth bared menacingly.
Brynjolf had seen it before. His jaw clenched as fear ate at his composure.
There could only be one reason why she was here. He knew this wouldn’t end
well. There hadn’t been any word from Vex. He knew he shouldn’t have let Vex go
alone, but Mercer had insisted. He should have trusted his gut and went with
her, even if it meant defying Mercer.
The ginger thief rubbed his face. He knew Mercer wouldn’t be happy about her
showing up here. Would be pissed if he brought her into the Cistern, but
Brynjolf had to know what happened to Vex. He glanced over at Delvin, noting
the wide-eyed fear in the older man’s eyes. Delvin had been in love with Vex
for years, but the beautiful blonde sneered at his advances.
Brynjolf carefully looked Aria up and down, scrutinizing every inch of her. She
carried nothing but her weapons, but a cursory glance past her revealed four
heavily armored warriors. Her housecarls. He sighed, shaking his head, “Follow
me.”
He and Delvin led her and her housecarls into the Cistern. It was a large domed
area with a water feature in the middle. Aria slowed her steps long enough to
use her Aura Whisper shout, mentally taking count of the number of other
Thieves’ Guild members congregating within the area. Some were sitting at
table, chatting amongst themselves. A few were playing dice or cards. Others
were shooting arrows at training dummies. From what she knew tell, none of them
posed a serious threat to herself or her housecarls. In fact, she was sure she
could paint the walls red just like she had done with the Brotherhood.
Brynjolf approached Mercer’s desk, knowing full well what the Guild Master’s
reaction would be. Heads were sure to roll. He just hoped one of them wasn’t
his. “Mercer, I present Aria Winterbourne, Harbinger of the Companions. She has
requested a meeting with you.”
Mercer’s pinned his steely gaze upon his second-in-command, rage simmering
within them. “Then you should have told the bitch I was busy.” He glanced from
Brynjolf to Aria with a sneer on his curled upper lip, “You are not welcome
here, Harbinger.”
“Is that so, Guild Master? Especially since you were so kind to extend an
invitation.” Aria plastered a wolfish grin on her face, motioning to Argis who
handed her a burlap sack. She dumped the contents onto Mercer’s desk, watching
as Vex’s severed head rolled across the desk, falling to the floor and coming
to rest at Delvin’s feet.
A chorus of startled gasps and cries filled the air. The bald Breton thief fell
to his knees, a wail on his lips, as he stared at the head. His sobs echoed
loudly as he clutched it to his chest. Though disbelief, sorrow and anger
flooded every bit of Brynjolf, he kept his wits about him, calling forth
Sapphire to take the Breton thief into the back where he could mourn in peace.
“The next thief I catch, I’ll send them back to you a piece at a time.” Aria
growled out. “Then it’s your head I’m coming for, Guild Master. From what I’ve
seen, this guild would be better off without you. Obviously your people don’t
matter to you, especially if you are going to keep throwing them at a dragon.”
Mercer sneered at her, “Wolf, more like it, Harbinger.”
Barking laughter slipped from her lips, “You think you are so clever, don’t
you? Just because you’ve discovered a few of our secrets. I may be a werewolf,
yes, but it’s the dragon you should fear more. I’ll roast you alive just like I
did that pretty little thing you sent to die.” Aria crossed her arms in front
of her chest. “I’d love to do it right here, right now, but there’s someone
else who wants to see you dead even more than I do, and I shall not rob that
person the pleasure of putting an arrow through your black heart.”
Brynjolf’s brows went up into his hairline as a bewildered cry ripped from his
throat. Something more was afoot than he ever imagined and he only hoped he’d
discover what before this vendetta or whatever it was Aria had against them
wiped out everything he held dear.
~*~
Brynjolf followed Aria back to the surface, catching up to her just as she
reached Honeyside. “What in the name of Shor’s bones is going on, lass?”
His hand wrapped around her elbow, knowing the act of touching her might cause
her housecarls to move against him. Aria turned to face him, inclining her head
at the four warriors surrounding them. She wordlessly motioned to them to give
her and Brynjolf a moment. Jordis, Iona, and Lydia immediately entered the
house, but Argis lingered behind a little longer. He raised an eyebrow at her,
questioningly, as he glanced back and forth from the redheaded thief to her.
Aria cleared her throat, “Go on, Argis. I’ll be fine.”
Argis gritted his teeth, leveling a glare of warning upon Brynjolf, before he
nodded at his Thane and left them alone to talk.
“Protective lad, eh?”
Aria chuckled low in her throat, “Very much so. It doesn’t matter that I really
don’t need it. It just nice to know he and the others care.” She stretched her
arm out, offering it to him. “Walk with me.”
Brynjolf took her arm, leading her about the city in a stroll. “I need the
truth, lass. I am tired of losing people I care about. I am more than willing
to come to an accord with you.”
Aria pursed her lips. She knew the most recent death had rocked several members
of the guild to the core and yet she knew there would be more. “Tell me why
Mercer sent someone into my house after you and I had a deal that you’d keep
your people out of my business?”
Brynjolf exhaled a heavy breath, guiding her towards the docks. They passed by
Balimund’s forge, though he was not present. He knew this was one of the things
Mercer and Maven would be less than pleased if he told Aria the truth, but if
those two kept throwing people he considered to be family at her, there
wouldn’t be anyone left.
“Maven wants something of yours, however, what she wants it for I couldn’t
say.”
“Couldn’t or won’t,” Aria interjected as they descended the stairs leading to
the docks.
He guided her away from the Meadery, circumventing the Fishery until they
reached the far end of the docks. Aria sat down, dangling her feet above the
water of Lake Honrich. Sitting beside her, Brynjolf mulled over her question.
“I don’t know all the details, lass. Apparently she has her reasons.”
“Then my next question would be what the hell was the thief looking for when
she broke into my house and why the fuck did Mercer or Maven think I would keep
anything of value here in Riften when you lot are here in this hellhole?”
“She wants the Blade of Woe you took from Astrid when you wiped out the
Brotherhood. That’s all I know, lass.” Brynjolf’s voice took on a bit of an
angry edge.
Laughter tore from Aria, shaking her so hard she nearly fell into the water if
it hadn’t been for Brynjolf grabbing hold of her.
He frowned at her laughter, making Aria laugh even more. Tears of mirth rolled
down her cheeks and she grasped for air. As soon as she calmed herself, she
gave him an answer he was not expecting. “Tell Maven I said she’ll have to
climb to the peak of the Throat of the World and convince its guardian to part
with it.”
A curse ripped from Brynjolf’s lips. It suddenly made sense. What she had said
to Mercer about dragons. This wasn’t going to go over well. Not at all. “Lass,
what you said to Mercer earlier, who is it that wants to see him dead?” The
feeling he had that gnawed at his gut returned, more potent than before.
Her expression sobered, her eyes locking with his. “I wish I could tell you,
but you will know everything in due time. I swear it. Honestly Brynjolf, I’m
tired of fighting with you and your people, but that bastard you call a Guild
Master and oh yes, that bitch Maven will not survive the storm that is coming.
If she thinks the worst I can do is burn down her home and put her out of
business, then she has not learned that you don’t fuck with Aria.”
Brynjolf gasped, his green eyes widening in disbelief. “That was you?”
Aria nodded, pride gleaming the depths of her silver eyes.
“How?”
“I am the Dragonborn.” She stated and stood up. She threw back her head, and
raised her arms to the sky above. “Strun Bah Qo.”
The skies blackened to darkest pitch as a torrent of rain, thunder and
lightning erupted all around them, drenching them in an instant. Brynjolf
scrambled beneath the eaves of the Fishery while Aria embraced the storm she
had called forth. She laughed, dancing about until the energy of the storm
faded as quickly as it had begun.
“You are one crazy lass,” Brynjolf shook his head. He still didn’t know what to
make of her revelations, but he knew one thing was for certain. If there was
any hope of saving the guild he had given his life to, it would be by going
against the will of Mercer and Maven.
For whatever Aria and her mysterious partner had planned, it meant everything
he knew was about to change. He only hoped when the dust finally cleared, he
was still alive to see it.
oOo
***** Decisions for the Future *****
Chapter Summary
     Kirsli makes a decision.
Chapter Notes
     Wow it's been FOREVER since I've updated this story. I've had a lot
     of RL issues to deal with and a ton of writer's block and the
     characters decided to not cooperate/not talk to me.
     Then to top it off I discovered the Mass Effect trilogy and Mass
     Effect: Andromeda, so I've been consumed by those four games as well.
     But here's an update.... it's unbeta'ed. Forgive my mistakes. I tried
     to catch them.
     And oh,,,, I made a couple minor changes to the previous chapter,
     Vendetta. The changes have to do with the item that Vex was searching
     for when she broke into Honeyside. Originally it was the Aetherial
     Crown, but I've changed it to the Blade of Woe. There are reasons.
     Also this story and my Dragon Age/Elder Scrolls: Skyrim crossover
     story titled Bird of Prey are now a part of the same "universe", so
     to speak. What the stories share in common is the same Dragonborn,
     Aria. Because I really like Aria.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Chapter Twenty-Two: Decisions for the Future
Upon leaving Honeyside, Balimund and Kirsli strolled through the market on
their way home, but before they reached the forge, she stopped, smiling up at
him. Balimund met her smile with one of his own as well as a quizzical look.
“Let’s go home,” he nodded at the door of the house several feet away.
“Not yet,” she shook her head. “Walk with me.”
Then she proceeded to lead him to the gate nearest Honorhall.
“Anything for you, honey,” Balimund bestowed a smile upon her that warmed her,
sending fissures of heat racing through her and finally settled deep in her
loins.
Kirsli bit her lip, smothering a moan that threatened to slip forth.
Conflicting emotions forced her to look away as a flush painted her cheeks a
rosy shade of red. She loved this man, wanted this man. She knew he wouldn’t
hurt her, not like… But fear gripped her.
Strong arms encircled her, pulling her into a warm embrace. His eyes and voice
were soft, his expression kind as he spoke, “Kirsli honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really. I just have to remind myself you would never hurt me.” She
snuggled into him, soaking up his body heat.
“That’s right. I would not. You mean far too much to me. Come on. You wanted to
go for a walk.” He kept an arm around her as he guided her through the gate and
down the cobblestone road along the lake.
“I was thinking about the finishing school and being so far away from home…
from you. I know I need to go. I know it’ll be a good experience for me, but at
the same time, it’s so scary. I’m terrified.”
Balimund guided her to a small grove of trees near the shoreline. The spot
concealed them from view, but they could still see and hear everything going on
around them. It also gave them a good view of the island Goldenglow had sat
upon. The estate was no longer there and so far no one had rebuilt it.
“Considering what you’ve been through, I’d be concerned if you weren’t.” He
pulled her into his arms, embracing her tightly. “You have always been a strong
and smart young woman. A little fear is natural and is nothing to be ashamed
of. I would imagine you would feel this way regardless. I know I would. You
won’t be alone, though. I’m going with you to get you settled in. It’ll be
interesting to see the Imperial City. Aria said much of it still hasn’t
recovered from the Great War and parts of the city are in ruins.”
Kirsli wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his upper
chest. She felt his lips graze the top of her head. “What did I ever do to get
so lucky?” She mused quietly.
A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, “I ask myself that every day, Kirs. I
don’t know what I’d have done if I had lost you. You make life worth living.”
Heat flooded her, most of it permeating from the man that held her. Kirsli
snuggled into him, soaking it up. It felt so good. She pushed up on the tips of
her toes, moving her arms from around his chest to his shoulders and planted a
soft kiss on his neck.
Balimund clenched his jaw, holding back a moan as he felt his cock harden. He
wanted − no, needed her badly. She was his and it took every bit of willpower
he possessed not to act on his needs. He ached to show her – remind her − how
he felt about her and that not all men were like Maul. She was making it
difficult to hold back, much like she had always done.
“Honey, you aren’t making it easy on me,” he murmured in her ear in a husky
tone. “Then again, I don’t think you ever have.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Her eyes flicked up, meeting his. Mischief danced
within the dual colored depths.
Balimund lifted her feet off the ground, bringing her up to eye level and held
her in his arms, “Never, honey.” She pressed flush against him, drawing her
legs up to wrap around his hips. “Though it begs the question of how far are
you willing to go. Or are you just testing the water, so to speak.”
Kirsli shrugged, “Maybe a little testing. Maybe I want to regain a modicum of
normalcy, of being in control of my life, of not being so scared of my own
shadow and everything else. It’s been hard. I feel like that asshole took
something from me and I don’t know how to get it back. I feel helpless and I
hate it. What I do know is that I trust you.”
“It’ll take time, Kirsli honey. There’s no rush. Come on. Let’s head back
home.” He gently kissed her forehead before setting her down to her feet.
Kirsli smiled, “Home it is then.” She clasped his hand in hers and strolled
alongside him. It didn’t take long before they were back within the city and at
the door of the Scorched Hammer. Once home, they settled in for the night,
playing a game of cards before bedtime.
Though it was a hard decision to make, Kirsli chose to sleep in her own bed
instead of with Balimund. She needed to think about a few things and being
close to him clouded her judgment. The older smith understood.
~*~
Morning brought a clearer picture for Kirsli. She was never going to be rid of
her fear if she continued to let it rule her life. She had so much to look
forward to. Finishing School, perhaps even being accepted to the Arcane
University and after that, there was a life to look forward to with Balimund.
He had been right all along. She’d miss out on so much if she stayed here.
There was a whole wide world out there just waiting for her to experience it.
A big smile graced her face while she cooked their morning meal. Thick slices
of ham, poached eggs and apple dumplings. The delicious aroma filled the small
house, beckoning the older smith from his bedchamber. His stomach rumbled and
he made an appreciative hum as he joined her at the table.
Kirsli handed him a cup of coffee then set his plate down in front of him. The
smile he bestowed upon her made her heart fluttered.
“You spoil me, honey,” he purred, winking at her before he dug into the feast
before him.
“Once I’m away at the school you’ll be back to cooking for yourself so enjoy it
while you can,” she replied before planting a kiss on his forehead.
He watched her as she stepped away from the table, her hips swishing to and fro
as she moved. She had such grace. There was a fire about her. He’d miss her,
had gotten so used to having her here. She permeated every nook and cranny of
his home. Her scent, her influence, her everything.
Balimund chuckled low in his throat, “I know. I might starve or spend all my
coin at the Bee and Barb.”
“Oh, you.” Kirsli rolled her dual colored eyes. “You won’t starve. You can cook
as well as I can.”
He laughed heartily. Watching her get her dander up was worth it. She was a
glorious spitfire. “Have plans for today? Didn’t you say something about going
over to Honorhall?”
“I will later this afternoon, but after I clean up here, I have to meet Aria’s
housecarls up in the keep’s training yard. Jordis sent over a message this
morning. I’ll need my armor and daggers.”
“I stored them in the downstairs safe. I’ll bring them up once I finish this
wonderful meal,” he smiled at her. “I should probably give them a good
onceover. You haven’t worn them since that training session with Aria and
Farkas.”
“You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject. You can say since Maul attacked
me. I think it is past time I put it behind me and got on with my life. I know
it’s not something that’s easy to forget, but I am done letting it have a hold
over me.”
Determination added steel to her voice and in that moment Balimund gazed upon
her with pure love and admiration shining in his eyes. He had never been more
proud of her. He had always known Kirsli was strong, stronger than she gave
herself credit for. She was a survivor. And no matter what the world threw at
her she would overcome it.
~*~
Kirsli ran through the small market, her long legs eating up the distance
between the keep and Balimund’s forge.
“Balimund! Balimund!” Her excited exclamation could be heard throughout the
heart of the city. She skidded to a stop in front of the forge, where the smith
in question diligently shaped a slab of hot molten steel into a work of art.
He glanced up at her, smiling, watching as she bounced up and down. “What is
it, honey?” She had been at the keep’s training yard with Aria, Jordis, Lydia,
Iona and Argis for several hours. She was sweaty and dirty and her armor was
showing some definite wear and tear. Obviously the training had been rather
rough and tumble.
“You should have seen it! I disarmed Argis! Took his sword clean away from
him!” Her eyes gleamed proudly, her smile infectious.
“That’s incredible, Kirsli. I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Pride in her
resonated in his voice, sparkled in his eyes.
“It was so awesome. You know they call him ‘The Bulwark.’ He had his shield up
and had a fierce look in his eyes. Aria showed me a few tricks. She taught me
to dual wield war axes which was difficult at first, but once I became
accustomed to their weight, I didn’t have much problem.” She held up the pair
of ebony war axes that Aria had gifted her. “Anyway, she said the trick was to
feint on Argis’s blind side, then strike, parry, block his sword and use my off
hand weapon to yank his sword from his hand. I tried a couple times
unsuccessfully and ended up losing my axe, but the last time I kept it and he
lost his instead. He looked so surprised when his weapon went flying!”
“I’m damn proud of you, Kirsli honey.”
The jubilant redhead threw her arms around Balimund, planting a sloppy kiss on
his cheek. “I need to clean up before heading to Honorhall. I bet Constance
will think I’m not coming. Oh, have any ideas for supper?”
“How about I take you to the Bee and Barb to celebrate?”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re on!” Then she raced into the house, singing a happy
tune. Nothing could rain on her parade today.
Argis joined Balimund at the forge a few minutes after Kirsli went inside to
change out of her armor. The smith greeted them cheerfully, his eyes still
glittering with pride over Kirsli’s accomplishments.
“Good to see you, Argis.” Then he grinned widely, looking like the cat that ate
the canary. “So I hear Kirsli pulled a fast one on you.”
Argis let out a boisterous guffaw. “She did. Took me by surprise. I didn’t
think she could do it so I stopped taking the sparring matches seriously and
she found an opening and exploited it, which is exactly what I taught her to
do. She is a quick study. She has talent,” the Bulwark related. “Course, she
also had Aria coaching her and feeding her little hints and secrets.”
“I think that’s great… just as long as you didn’t just let her disarm you.”
Balimund leveled ‘that look’ upon the younger man. The look that said ‘you hurt
Kirsli, you deal with me.’
“No, that isn’t the case. She truly disarmed me and I’m not the only one. She
did the same to Jordis. She should keep training. We’ll work with her for as
long as we are in Riften, or until she leaves for schooling.” Argis offered
good-naturedly. He liked Kirsli. She was a sweet girl. Definitely easy on the
eyes. The smith was a lucky man, indeed. “Tell her I said tomorrow same time
and place.”
“Will do, Argis, and thank you… to all of you. I appreciate what you are doing
for Kirsli and I know she would say the same.”
Argis inclined his head as he walked away, allowing the smith to get back to
work. It had been worth it to put a smile on Kirsli’s face, to help her face
some of her fears. So what if they had missed out on a dragon hunt? They could
hunt dragons anytime. By Talos, Skyrim certainly wasn’t lacking in the
overgrown lizards.
~*~
Kirsli cleaned up quickly, bathing and changing into fresh clothes so she could
visit Constance. She left her armor with Balimund. It needed a few minor
repairs. Aria and her housecarls didn’t hold back at all during any of the
sparring. The Dragonborn repeatedly emphasized that no one was going to take it
easy on her in a real fight, therefore neither would they. She had to learn to
defend herself as well as fight. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.
Disarming Jordis and Argis had been satisfying. Neither of them thought she
could do it. They found out she could the hard way.
Don’t underestimate me just because I’m not as experienced as you.
What I lack in skill I make up for in determination and stubbornness.
Just as she reached Honorhall, a familiar ginger haired thief wearing Guild
armor came up the stairs from The Ratway. He crooked his finger, gesturing at
her to come hither. Kirsli eyed him speculatively. She didn’t like it that
Brynjolf was stopping her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. It was
too late to ignore him and act like she hadn’t noticed him. She knew that he
knew that she was aware of his presence.
She sighed and grumbled under her breath. Why couldn’t these people leave her
and Balimund alone? That’s all they wanted. To be left in peace.
“What do you want, Brynjolf?” She eyed him suspiciously, hissing through her
teeth.
“No need for hostility, lass.” He held his hands up in plain view, clearly
trying to show he wasn’t up to no good. “Will you give a message to Aria for
me?”
“Depends on the message.”
“Clever lass.”
Kirsli snorted and glared at him, yanking the door to the orphanage open. She
didn’t feel like playing his game and at this moment she really wished she
hadn’t left her daggers at home. “Are you just here to try my patience?”
“Tell Aria to meet me tonight in the Bee and Barb. Upper floor. She’ll know
what it concerns.” Then he simply turned around and headed back down the stairs
towards the canal.
Weird.
She didn’t even want to know what that was all about and hoped Aria was smart
enough not to get mixed up with the Guild, especially since it had always
seemed like the Dragonborn wanted to take them out. Had something changed?
Kirsli hoped not. Shrugging, she put it out of mind and headed into the
orphanage. The only thing she wanted to concern herself with at this moment was
finding out what Constance wanted to tell her. Kirsli certainly had her
suspicions. It remained to be seen whether or not they were correct or not.
...
Chapter End Notes
     Mwuahahaha.... ends in a bit of a cliffhanger... hehehehe
     What will Constance's news be and the meeting between Aria and
     Brynjolf... a-ha... plot bunnies
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