A/N: I don't know where this came from LOL Anyway, this is based on two OCs that I randomly drew on my sketchbook one time and then I decided to keep them. However, I don't know what universe to place them in. Originally, I was going to place them in a VN I'm working on called "Siren's Plea" but I'm like, nah. Siren's Plea is too much angst already. Let's put them in Skyrim instead.
Well, I never said I made good decisions...
You're probably wondering if that means this will be a happy fic. I dunno, man. I'm a sucker for angst and tragedy but we'll see. Hehe.
Chapter One: Hunger and Ale
Taking one audible sigh of irritation, the female Breton brushes the loose strands of hair that fell over her gold eyes. Her lips tug down into a frown as her eyes narrow into a glare.
"What do you mean you're charging me extra?" She asks, almost spitting on the man behind the counter. "That's not what we agreed to, Nurelion."
The owner, an elderly Altmer of the alchemy shop named The White Phial, looks at her with indifference and perhaps with slight irritation at her outburst. His apprentice, Quintus, watches their exchange with apprehensive eyes as he senses the fight waiting to break out at any time. He immediately looks away the moment she turns her head in his direction and pretends he has been busy with his task of mixing herbs by the alchemy lab.
"You know how this business works, Charna. You won't find it anywhere else offering it at such a bargain," he tells her breezily. "Unless you wish to look for it yourself?"
She shifts her attention back at the old sickly man, clicking her tongue with irritation. She resists the urge to set him on fire, opting to taking in deep breaths to calm down slightly. She's tired from her journey and in desperate need of a warm bath and cozy bed; she doesn't really have the patience to argue with the shop owner.
Grabbing the pouch of coins she has inside the pocket of her cloak, she throws it on the wooden counter and it lands with a heavy thunk. Nurelion visibly frowns at her lack of manners but she does not give a rat's ass about it, too pissed that she's paying more than what she is expecting to.
"There's easily sixty gold coins there, you arse. That better be enough or I'll burn you into ashes like you deserve, old fart."
Nurelion simply snorts at her derisively, obviously not taking her threat seriously as he crouches down to presumably grab her order. As he stands up, a brown bag is set in front of her and she wastes no time to open it, tugging the string that keeps it closed open. After a quick check inside the bag, she closes it when she finds it of satisfactory and tosses it inside the pack she carries with her.
"At least you got it right this time," she commented, already heading to the door leading back to the marketplace. "Guess this will do."
"Hmph, ungrateful as ever. Hope you get burnt by the sun, brat."
"I'm not the one ready to go six feet under anytime soon, old fart."
She notices the man open his mouth for another harsh retort but never hears it as she slams the door shut. She almost breaks into laughter when she hears the muffled cursing of the old Altmer behind the door. Settling for simply snickering silently to herself – in the case anyone finds her loony – she walks down the few steps and crosses the marketplace. She ignores the stall owners calling out to her, no doubt to fish some coins from her, and makes her way to the local inn called Candlehearth Hall.
Her whole body aches and her belly is already demanding that it be fed immediately. It is fortunate that there isn't a snowstorm upon her arrival at Windhelm though she still doesn't appreciate the cold climate in this city.
The sun has already set and soon, the streets fall into darkness with only torches on the tall walls illuminating the streets.
Charna almost let out a loud sigh as soon as she nears the inn. With a groan, she walks up the steps leading up to the inn and reaches out for the doorknob. The door creaks as she pulls it open and her snow-mucked boots thump on the wooden floorings the moment she enters the building. It is the scent of ale and food that greet her nostrils and, involuntarily, her body relaxes just a bit at the homely atmosphere.
Her feet begin approaching the counter where a middle-aged woman with blonde hair stands, conversing with a tall man garbed in leather armour. Judging by the troubled and frantic expressions on the woman's face, their conversation is anything but cheery.
Charna's eyes move to observe the man she is speaking with. He appears to be some kind of warrior, judging by the lean but muscular body. He has olive skin and long dark hair tied in a low ponytail. Since he has his back facing her, she can't exactly tell how his facial features look like but it is safe to say that he is a Redguard.
"It all seems like a dream…she was just alive a few nights ago. How can anyone murder her in cold blood like that?"
Charna raises an eyebrow upon hearing her words though shrug it away. It's not really her business.
As if sensing the Breton's approach, the blonde woman abruptly halts her conversation with the man she is speaking with. He shifts to face her as well but she's already facing the Nord woman who gives her a shaky smile. The woman is easily taller than her, being a Nord and everything, and garbed in a faded yellow dress stained with what seem to be from food or ale. She resists the urge to make a face at the sight.
Do people not enjoy the practice of bathing themselves or doing their laundry?
"Ah, welcome! This here's Candlehearth Hall. Great room's upstairs, an' there's a bed for rent on the ground floor. So which will it be, lass?" She asks, eyeing the man from the corner of her eyes. The man, seeming to have noticed that she needs to go back to her job, gives a quiet murmur of goodbye and walks away. Charna watches him silently, vaguely aware of how unique his scent smells like.
How curious.
The man disappears to the next floor, bringing her attention back to the middle-aged woman who appears to be the innkeeper.
"I need a room for the night, with a warm meal for the night included," Charna tells her simply. She ignores the obvious attempts of the woman of looking through her hood but she easily avoids her with a slight tilt of her head to the side, the hood falling further down to cover her face.
"That will be seventeen coppers."
Wordlessly, she presses a silver coin on the counter.
"Keep the change," she murmurs curtly.
The woman takes it eagerly, thanking her with a huge grin before she leads her to the stairs leading upstairs. The noise grows considerably louder as they walk to the next floor. Upon arrival on the next floor reveals a lounge area of some sorts, where guests and patrons eat and hang around at while they drink their ale.
Charna catches sight of the Redguard man who was speaking with the innkeeper just moments ago. He's occupying one of the seats, drinking ale while conversing with one of the barmaids. His face is too far for her to distinguish his features. Vaguely, she wonders why she is so curious about the man.
He smells different from the rest, she silently tells herself. But she knows that is not enough of a reason to warrant such curiosity from her.
…She blames it on hunger.
"Here ya go," the woman says, interrupting her train of thoughts. The Nord woman swings open the door of the room she is led to. The woman ushers her inside and she does so wordlessly.
The place appears to be a normal-looking room, no traps or whatsoever.
"If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask us. Enjoy your stay and don't break nothin'!"
The Nord woman turns to walk away but pauses as if remembering something.
"Oh, and a word of warning…"
The Breton raises an eyebrow even though the Nord woman can't see it behind the hood.
"There's been a serial killer lurking around. It's best you be careful."
Charna only nods her head before stepping inside the room. The door clicks shut as the innkeeper steps out, leaving her to her own privacy.
A serial killer on the loose? Since the war, murder isn't an uncommon matter any longer. Besides, she won't be staying in this city for long and in the case she is attacked, she knows how to defend herself.
Dropping her pack by the edge of her bed, she removes her clothing to bathe herself. Half an hour later, she is dressed in clean clothes and considerably feeling much better though her stomach still demands that it be fed. As if on cue, it gives a low growl, making her frown.
How annoying, she grumbles, rubbing her face with a hand. It has been weeks since she last fed and there seems to be decent folks here. The lounge area seems like the perfect place for her to lure someone.
With that thought, she grabs the cloak she had thrown on her bed earlier and throws it over herself, making sure that the hood is covering her face. She exits her room and makes her way to the lounge area.
Upon arrival, the place appears to be more crowded and bustling with more people. There are lots of uniformed men gathered around drinking ale and roaring with laughter. They appear greasy and the type that never bathe.
Charna makes a face at the revolting sight, mentally checking them off from her potential targets list. She's not exactly looking for a tummy ache for the night.
Deciding that tonight will be one of those nights where her patience will be tested, she occupies one of the vacant tables. A barmaid approaches her and asks her if she wants anything and she tells her a bottle of ale will suffice for now. She is instantly served one and she thanks the woman quietly and tosses the appropriate coppers for the drink.
For a moment, she sips on her ale while silently scanning the place with her eyes in search of a target. There doesn't seem to be a sign of Dawnguard soldiers here, much to her relief, but she should not let her guard down. Those pests can actually be smart once in a while.
"Is this seat taken?"
She looks up, almost startled upon the sight of the very Redguard man she encountered since her arrival at the inn. He is smiling at her expectantly as he waits for her response. Vaguely, she finds herself admiring his facial features. He's certainly attractive and surprisingly clean shaven. His eyes are green like emeralds, shimmering with some sort of silent mirth in them. He is no longer donning the armour he was wearing earlier and now dons a simple tunic and pants. He also smells clean, perhaps just having bathe recently just like herself.
He would be perfect, she silently thinks as her eyes trail to the lean exposed neck of his. She can almost taste his blood – oh so warm, sweet…
Realizing that she hasn't responded to his question, she waves a hand on the vacant seat in front of her.
"Go ahead," she tells him.
The man gives her an appreciative smile before pulling the wooden chair to seat himself on it.
"So what's a woman such as yourself doing here by herself?" He asks as he starts a conversation.
"Business," she answers curtly, sipping her ale once again. "What's a Redguard doing in the city of Nords?"
"Business," the man answers, mimicking her answer to his question. She feels her one eye twitching at that but lets it slide.
"I see we have a jester here," she comments as she sets the bottle of ale on the wooden table. It clinks upon contact and is left there as they speak.
The man lets out a chuckle that sounds gratingly attractive to her ears, making her second guess just who is the prey and predator in this situation. The man leans one arm on the table, the other hanging over on the back of the chair he sits on.
"Well, I do try my best…and my remarkable sense of humour usually gets the ladies in bed," he flirts with a grin and a wink.
Charna almost snorts at the unoriginality of his words but manages to stop herself from doing so. If ever, she should be thankful of him for there is no need for her to use her powers to lure this man. He's practically making her job easier for her but persistently pushing himself to her. But she's not one to complain and is nothing but willing to let him take the first step, just as long as she gets to feed tonight.
"Oh? I seriously doubt that," she challenges with a slight tilt of her lips.
The man leans back, holding one hand to his chest as he feigns hurt.
"You wound me, my lady!"
So dramatic, she dryly thinks but maintains that smile on her lips.
"Hasan," the man says, extending a hand towards her. "Your name, my lady?"
She eyes his outstretched hand for a second before taking it and shaking it.
"Charna."
She makes a move to pull her hand back but the man, Hasan, holds it firmly as he dips down to place a kiss on the back of her palm while still maintaining eye contact.
"Such a lovely name for a lovely lady."
Charna tries not to show her unimpressed look. Flirts like this one aren't her type but they're usually the easy targets.
Ugh, I just really want to feed…
She forces out a smile to hide the irritation building up inside her. That and the hunger grows stronger each day and being surrounded by this much food doesn't help one bit.
"Charmer," she tells him, eye twitching when the man refuses to let go of her hand and has, instead, intertwined his fingers with hers.
"Anything for a pretty lady," he says with a toothy grin. "So? What about it? Need someone to warm your bed?"
The smile that comes out of her lips this time is no longer forced. It almost looks like a grin of a predator about to get their prey.
"I hope that humour of yours proves to be quite remarkable as you have claimed."
The man smirks at her with challenge.
"I suppose we'll have to see, hm?"