A/N: So I've had this story bouncing around in my head for quite awhile now. I figured I might as well just get it out and write it for my own amusement. I haven't done any real writing in years and I'm too embarrassed to share it with anyone I know so I apologize for the vast amount of errors I know must still be in this.
This character came out of a desire to write a story with the lead developing into the type of character I play in the game, which is really fucking evil. If you're looking for a protagonist with a good heart and lots of redeeming qualities, this is not the fic for you.
Chapter 1 - Jone
Chorrol was once probably a magnificent and beautiful city. The tall buildings made of oak and stone probably did not seem to sag with wear, the paint badly chipped and scuffed, the stones broken and stained by the weather. There probably wasn't a constant mess of broken bottles and bodily fluids on the cobbled stone paths. They probably didn't need to have guards posted outside of every tavern and gate, violence probably didn't stalk the citizens slowly around every dark corner. The streets were probably lively and the people were probably once even happy, but that is not the city she found before her tonight. At least she would like to think it so.
Minerva sat on the windowsill of a drafty abandoned house overlooking the quiet activity of late night Chorrol. A fierce gust of wind came through and chilled her to the bone, her thin cloak doing little to keep her warm. She wrapped it tighter around her and reached down beside her for her bottle. She gazed at the softly illuminated stained glass of the Chapel of Stendarr as she drank deeply, the sickly sweet bitter taste hardly phasing her. As she swallowed she relished in temporary relief as warmth blossomed through her chest and muscles. She had never thought there could be a city more depressing than the Imperial City. She decided here that she was wrong, that she would take the busy hum of the filthy streets back at home where one could fade in a crowd and vanish in an instant. Chorrol provided no such cover, and she knew she needed to leave as soon as possible because of it.
She climbed down from the window and felt herself struggle to keep her balance. Perhaps she had drank too much. She didn't drink skooma nearly as often as she used to but she liked to think she could handle herself better than most, and after her impromptu ride from the Imperial City to Chorrol on a stolen horse ridden nearly to death she had badly needed the relief. She could hardly walk after arriving, her limbs were so numb and sore from the ride and the cold. Hours later she could still feel the deep ache in her legs and through her abs. She took one last sip from her bottle before corking it and slipping it carefully into her satchel. As she exited the run down house she could feel her head swimming.
She began making her way down the back alley that ran behind the house and towards the edge of town. She needed to find somewhere to sleep where she wouldn't freeze to death. The streets of Chorrol were subdued compared to the Imperial City but still held life to them at the late hour. She passed by a few taverns, careful to mind her gait in front of the guards. What was left of them really hovered around these types of establishments. Violence across the Imperial province had exploded in the decades since the Great war, all the cities struggling to deal with the aftermath of keeping a starving population in line with half the force they had had before. No where in Cyrodiil really felt safe anymore. Especially not the Imperial City. Especially not for me.
As she rounded the corner she spotted a softly lit lantern hanging outside a cellar door, and next to it an Imperial man passed out cold on the cobblestone. She only needed to get within a few feet of him to smell how pungent his odor of smoke, skooma and good old fashioned liquor was. He was shivering in his sleep and she wondered how long he had been out in the cold. Stepping over him she gingerly lifted one of the doors and saw light coming from the cellar. Normally she might not have simply walked into an unfamiliar cellar in a strange city but the skooma and the cold had reached her head by now and her caution had waned.
Her instincts paid off as she reached the bottom of the steps to find it was indeed a skooma den as she had suspected. The cellar itself was basic and bare, the floor was still dirt and there were a few especially large barrels at the end of the room. She figured it was probably the cellar of an old tavern. A hearth was lit and the bodies gathered around it barely even moved or acknowledged her presence. They were homeless, all filthy and clothes worn and patched. It probably helped that she looked about as good as they did. She approached slowly, unsure if she should try to greet any that might still be awake or simply try to sit close enough to siphon warmth from their fire without being noticed. She decided on the latter and walked towards the wall when a man spoke up.
"Don't recognize you. Who are you with?" His voice was low and grinding, like he had smoked too much for too long. It was an Imperial man shooting her a hard gaze. He was older, perhaps in his fifties with mostly gray hair.
"No one," she responded. She reached into her satchel and pulled out one of her bottles and walked over to him, offering it out. "But I'm willing to share mine if you'll share yours."
He eyed her for only a moment before taking the bottle and nodding at her. She knew he wasn't going to refuse it. Walking back toward the fire she could feel the warmth already seeping into her clammy numbed skin. She took a seat as close to it as she could bare and let the intoxicating mix of the sudden relief from the harsh night air and the skooma she had drank wash over her worn frame. Gods, she was tired. It probably wasn't the safest spot in the city but it was warm and that was all she needed.
"'Ho! Whew!" the Imperial exclaimed after taking a drag off her bottle. The others around the fire stirred slightly at his outburst but mostly stayed in their half-waking states, collapsed all over each other and letting sleep take them again. "That's got a hell of kick to it. You certainly didn't get this from Orell, the piss he sells us." He looked over to her again. "What's a tiny thing like you doin' with this? You don't look like you could handle it."
She chuckled slightly. "I can handle it just fine. I'm the one who made it."
At that he looked rather amused. "You don't say? Fine work." He took another long swig before nudging the woman next to him and handing her the bottle. "You could become a wealthy woman quickly here makin' drink like that. With the shit that gets pushed around here, lots of folk would pay top gold for it."
She took off her cloak and wrapped it around her satchel to form a make shift pillow before laying down, her gray-blonde hair fanning out around her as it came loose from her tie. "You couldn't pay me enough to stay in this shit heap of a city. I thought the Imperial City was bad, but this place is just depressing."
The woman lying next to him sputtered as she drank from the bottle, her eyes widening as she coughed. He chuckled, "Well you got that right. If you aren't rich or part of one of those hoity-toity families you ain't livin' right in Chorrol. They treat us like animals. Any home that was once affordable has fallen to pieces. Half the shops have closed in the last few years. It ain't the same here anymore."
She tried to focus on what he was saying but her mind was struggling to stay awake, her exhaustion and the skooma having a powerful hold on her. "Well I don't plan on staying." She mumbled.
Her eyes closed, she did not see the derisive look he shot her way. "Well then you might be smarter than you look. We'll see soon enough."
She didn't put much thought into his words. Even on the hard dirt floor of the cellar her weakened body flooded with drowsiness, quickly shutting down and pulling her into a deep sleep.
Minerva started at the sound of loud banging at her door and Saraji's harsh voice. "Open up! Don't make me say it twice!"
She slammed the cover of her book shut and rolled her eyes as she got up to answer the door. Saraji seemed to be having a rare day of clarity as she would normally be barely conscious by this time in the evening. Annoyed, she yanked her door open with more force than was necessary. "What?" she snapped.
Saraji's big, green and normally sad eyes burned with anger. Her typically matted tabby fur was unusually clean, as though she had actually managed to fall into a bath that day. "What are you doing? Wasting time on books you've read a dozen times before?" Her gaze went from the book on her bed back to Minerva. "You need to ready yourself, you have work."
She clenched her jaw to try to quell her anger. "I can do whatever I please with my spare time." Why was she even awake? "I'm not in the mood to deal with your customers. Make one of the others take them and I'll make you some more skooma tomorrow."
Saraji let out a humorless laugh. "Don't give me that tone. Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate with me? You must think me an idiot if you think I don't realize how much you've taken advantage of my spells, forcing the other girls to work while you sit back and enjoy yourself. You're my most expensive girl, you need to make up for my lost profits. Have you forgotten who's in charge here, Min?" 'Spell' was a polite way of saying 'rendered unconscious by copious amounts of skooma'.
She could not help but scoff in response. "Oh, how could I? You're such a present and vigilant proprietor of our fine establishment." Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
To her surprise Saraji responded by bringing down her open paw in a harsh slap across her face. Caught off guard she gasped and stumbled back, catching herself from falling by grabbing on to a broken Dibella statue she kept and nearly cutting her hand on the jagged edge of Dibella's arm. Saraji took the opportunity to step inside the room, closing the door behind her.
"Shut up. Listen to me." She stepped closer and her voice dropped to a hiss. "There's a Motierre here. You need to take him."
Minerva's hand covered the inflamed skin where Saraji struck her. "Fuck you, get one of the other girls." She spat.
Saraji narrowed her eyes at her. Slowly, she walked over to Minerva's dresser where a skooma bottle sat on a serving tray. She uncorked it and poured herself a glass. "I do too much for you. I let you believe you are in charge when you are not. I let you believe you are worth more than you really are." She drank it in one swift gulp and continued in a low growl, "Do you know how easily I can replace you?"
Minerva scoffed and turned away from her, knowing it wasn't true. Saraji had invested years teaching her how to brew skooma, along with a lesser known trick of refining sleeping tree sap. It was difficult to get a hold of and incredibly potent, but Saraji loved it. She was more often incapacitated than not and if not for Minerva they wouldn't be moving any of their moon sugar. She preferred it greatly over whoring and usually managed to avoid having to take clients. "Then do it. If it's so easy go find someone else that won't rob you blind or ruin your shit. I bet they'll even run your brothel for you while you're passed out in your own mess!" She hissed. "Make Gianna take him, she'll be glad for it. She loves those high society men."
Saraji's hateful gaze bore into her like hot pokers. "Your body belongs to me. You, belong to me. He doesn't want Gianna, he wants a pretty little Breton girl and he has enough to coin to have you any which way he wants." Anger burned inside of her at her words but she held her tongue. It was clear Saraji was sober enough to make sure Minerva wouldn't have her way tonight.
Saraji walked over to her and took her chin in her paw to look her in the face. She jerked her head back out of her grip before Saraji grabbed her again, harder. Minerva glared as Saraji stroked her cheek with a single claw. "Don't be stupid. This one's important. Motierre, remember that name? His kin sits on the Elder Council. Don't fuck it up for us or be difficult. He'll be the only one you have to take this week. Fair, yes?"
It was more of an offer than she had expected and there really wasn't any use in trying to argue with her when the old bitch still had plenty of fight left in her. She moved out of her grasp once more and went to stand. "Fine. No more after him… I'm holding you to it. Don't get wasted and pretend like you don't remember."
Saraji simply nodded and made her way to the door, caring little for her words and only that she obeyed. "Five minutes and I'll send him in." She closed the door behind her as she left Minerva alone in her room.
Minerva walked over to her dresser and peered into the polished silver mirror, gently primping her hair before she took a deep swig from the skooma bottle. It was a vain attempt to soothe her anger towards the Khajiit. She pushed down the sleeves of her simple blue cotton dress until it fell into a heap on the floor. The breeze from her open window roused goosebumps over her creamy pale skin, and for a moment she stood there staring at her reflection. She let out a deep sigh before dabbing some perfume behind her ears and between her breasts and rummaging in her closet, pulling on a sheer lace robe that hung delicately on her small frame. She took one last swig from her bottle before arranging herself in a seductive pose on her chaise lounge. Across from her sat the mangled statue of Dibella. It had been damaged long ago when a client deep in his cups had thought to show off his battle prowess for her and accidentally struck poor Dibella with his mace, ripping off her flower and arm. Minerva had found it rather amusing and was impressed the statue held up at all. She liked it much more this way, but the shadows cast on it in the moonlight gave Dibella a rather skeptical expression this evening. "Don't look at me like that." she muttered.
The door opened and a well dressed man walked in. He was young and looked to be in his twenties. His hair was ebony and his skin was fair and unmarred. His eyes met with hers and looked her up and down, eagerly taking her in as an impish grin spread across his face. "Fuck," He breathed as he closed the door. "No wonder she keeps you hidden away. Look at you."
She stood up as he made his way towards her, tilting her head back and beckoning him forward. He stood close to her and stayed observing her, his eyes drifting from her face to her thinly-veiled breasts and back again. He reached up and gently ran his fingers through her hair. "It's rather unusual to see a girl your age with hair this color." He brought a lock of hers to his face and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and savoring her scent. Now that he was close to her she could smell the potent stench of liquor, smoke and sweat coming off of him and it was clear to her that he had a long night before winding up at the Cathouse. With any luck she'd be able to finish him quickly and his intoxication would lull him into a fast sleep.
He stepped back, looking at her again. "And your eyes match. That explains why they call you the silver lady. Saraji says you're from Jode… that's what the Khajiit call Secunda. It's a good gimmick for you. You look the part, a mysterious moon goddess." His smile twisted at the corner of his mouth. "Take it off."
Jone, she corrected silently to herself. She reached up and grabbed either side of her robe with her hands, moving the fabric tantalizingly slow as it fell away and the moonlight lit up her pale skin. "What's your name?" He said softly.
She stepped toward him and ran her hands up his torso. She only came eye level with his chest and craned her neck to look up at him. "Tonight, anyone you want me to be… any way you want me." She said softly. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his in an invasive kiss, his tongue aggressively probing down her throat. It made her stomach turn but she steeled her expression. His hands roughly gripped her breasts and pinched at her nipples with far too much force to be pleasurable, but she hummed into his kiss all the same. It seemed to please him as his kiss grew even rougher and he gripped her tightly around her waist. She pulled herself up to grind her body against him, feeling his cock already hardening in his trousers.
He broke the kiss by grabbing her neck and moving her roughly away from him. "And what if I want you begging?" He suddenly shoved her back with so much force she stumbled and fell hard on the floor at the foot of her bed. Before she could respond to him he was upon her, his legs pressing painfully over her thighs pinning her down as he brought his backhand hard across her face. Her vision flashed white for a moment and she blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned. She struck wildly at him but it hardly seemed to phase him as he wrapped his hands violently around her neck, crushing the air from her throat. Her mind whirled, not expecting it from him, thinking him an excitable boy rather than a man who craved violence. She choked for air and clutched at his arm, trying to pull it off. "Please-" she gasped, but he only tightened his grip. His eyes held a derisive and sick amusement to them. She had been with men like this before but she was always warned and there was always a limit to what they could do to her. They paid a steep price for the privilege, as he most surely did, but this was different. This man felt entitled to hurt her. She struggled against him, hoping all he wanted was a reaction and he would soon let her breathe again.. but his grip only grew tighter, and true panic began to wash over her. Her feigned struggles turned into real fists desperately beating on his face and chest. It seemed to do nothing but anger him and he took one hand from her throat to grab her wrists and pin them above her head in a painful grip. His other hand released her throat and she gasped for air as he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back harshly. "Get OFF of me!" She spat and he released her hair to strike her again.
"Shut up!" He shouted as his free hand moved to fumble with the tie of his pants. "I've already paid for you, I'll do what I want." She looked around for something, anything to help her and saw a silver goblet under her chaise within arms reach. Distracted as he was trying to pull himself out of his smalls she managed to twist away one hand from his grip and grabbed the goblet, throwing the leftover skooma in his eyes. He swore loudly, releasing her arms to rub the drink from his burning eyes. The drink was thick and not coming off easily, and he moved his weight off her legs to move to stand up. She used the opportunity to bring her leg up and as he stood she kicked him as hard as she could in the abdomen. It didn't connect as hard as she would've liked after everything he had done, but he stumbled all the same. With his intoxication hindering his balance, he swayed as he tripped and fell back with a sickening crunch.
It took her a moment to register what had happened. He laid there on her floor, his eyes wide and blank and staring at her ceiling right where her Dibella statue stood. When he remained motionless and silent her blood ran cold. "Oh, no.. Oh Gods, what the fuck did I do?" She crouched down to check beneath his head to see Dibella bosom deep in his skull, crimson running down her body and pooling beneath them. "No, no no no… " A hundred thoughts ran through her mind at once. Gods, she only meant to get him off of her, not kill him! She and the Cathouse didn't need any trouble from anyone with ties to the Elder Council. They would have her head the moment they discovered what happened, and Saraji would likely sell her out the first chance she gets. I have to leave. They'll kill me once they find his body. I have to leave now!
Her heart beating in her ears she scrambled to her feet and moved a chair over to her bedroom door, barring it under the knob. Gods know it won't keep Saraji out for long once she grows suspicious but it would be better than nothing. She grabbed the first dress she saw and threw it on along with the only cloak she owned. Her satchel hung on the dresser and she quickly snatched it, throwing anything of use on her dresser in the bag. She turned to make her way to the window before abruptly stopping and turning around to delve into one of the drawers. Rummaging through the clothing she quickly found it, a dagger and a belt. She rolled up her sleeve to strap it to her left bicep before concealing it again. With her bag full she stepped over to the window, looking back around her room. She had practically lived her entire life in the Cathouse. It was the only place she knew as home but she had no love for it anymore. She wasn't her own person here, she didn't even have the rights to her own body. Saraji, the other girls… none of them truly cared about her. She fought constantly with the other women. They all hated her and she was certain Saraji did too. The life she had here was empty and meaningless. She thought she would die within these walls the same way she lived, alone and angry. Never could she have predicted the possibility of being hunted, but she could imagine the terrible ways they could dispose of her should his family find her. She couldn't stay here. She looked back to the growing pool of scarlet growing on the floor and studied his blank face for a few moments before quietly slipping out her window.
Minerva woke with her heart racing and adrenaline pumping through her veins. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was, her unexpected nightmare throwing her senses and disorienting her. She didn't expect to be forced to relive the memory so soon. As her mind awakened and she began to process her surroundings and how the chill of the room had numbed her to the bone, the fire having gone out overnight. She shivered looking around and noticed most of the people who were there when she had fallen asleep were now gone, save for a few bodies strewn about the room still deep in sleep or stupor. That's right… I'm in Chorrol.
Through the fading numbness she could feel the deep ache of her body from the combined exhaustion of her long ride from the Imperial City and sleeping on the cold earth of the basement floor, and she stretched her arms out above her trying to relieve some of her tension. As she began to recount the events of the previous night she reached for her satchel, and upon resting her hand on it her stomach dropped. It felt empty and flat. Suddenly awake she ripped the bag open and frantically looked around her immediate sleeping space. Her skooma bottles were nowhere to be found. Damn it! Fucking addicts!
Furiously she kicked open the cellar door and stormed out into the brisk morning air. She kept a quick pace down the back alleys of where she assumed the poorer areas of the city were, searching for the man who had drank with her the night before. Minerva had learned a long time ago that if you allow someone an opportunity to take advantage of you they will do it and if you leave yourself open for deceit you will be played. She felt like a fool for even offering him any of her skooma. It wasn't swill that you could pick up from any shady tavern keep, it was high quality, potent, and delicious compared to most skooma that was produced in Cyrodiil. It was brewed for nearly twice as long as most and Saraji had always procured the finest moon sugar. She could have sold it and bought a carriage to High Rock already had she not indulged. She should have known better, but Gods she was so physically and mentally exhausted by the time she stumbled into Chorrol that she just desperately wanted some relief, to feel warm again.
She rounded a corner and kept close to the building, studying all the destitute citizens that gathered along the walls of the city where there was a sloped grassy dip in the earth. They were slightly obscured until you were upon them having some of the larger trees crowded near the run down buildings. She was a bit taken back by the amount of homeless she had seen in the city considering she had not even spent a full day there yet, and it concerned her that perhaps the bastard would have some friends with him when she found him. If that's the case then there's probably nothing left, she realized, her anger rising.
Her concerns about him having back up flew out the window when she spotted him and her fury heated her body more than the fire had the night before. He sat huddled at the base of a tree, her half empty bottle in his hand and sitting with another man and the woman who had been with him last night. She stormed up to his flank and saw her last two bottles empty in front of them, and threw her leg into his stomach, sending him slamming back against the tree with a choked gasp. He dropped the bottle and as it fell on the grass and his female companion dove for it but Minerva stomped her boot onto her outstretched hand until she felt a few small fragile bones snap. The woman wailed in pain as Minerva ground her boot down and bent over to retrieve what remained of the last bottle. "You fucking bitch!" she screamed. Minerva sneered with disgust and ignored her, and as she turned around she realized the Imperial man had recovered his initial shock and was attempting to scurry away, but he was slow and off balance thanks to the skooma. She quickly reached for one of the empty bottles and brought it down hard over his head, shattering it and sending tendrils of crimson through his hair. Grabbing a handful of his bloody hair she jerked his head back to hiss in his ear, "And where do you think you're going? You better have the gold the make this right or I'll tear your throat apart right here," she punctuated her point by bringing the jagged remains of the bottle neck to the sagging flesh of his throat.
He began to stutter and shake violently, "P-P-Please, I have no coin to give! B-But I can find it for you, please, let me go and I'll bring you-"
Her anger flared again and she dug the jagged point into his throat enough to squeeze a few drops of blood onto the glass. "Bring me what? Whatever paltry sum you steal from your friends?" Her grip on the glass tightened, "I should just do them a favor and kill you now, who would miss you? No one, I'll bet," A dark and strangely excited feeling blossomed from her stomach as she drew the glass back, but as she moved to drive it into his jugular a strong hand caught her elbow and kept her restrained, quickly grabbing her wrist below where she gripped the glass and pulling it from her grip.
She turned and saw him, realizing he was the one who had been sitting with them and for a moment her wild instincts turned to him and she nearly went for her dagger, but stopped when she saw his face. She recognized him, vaguely, from the Cathouse. He was a part of a posse of men that would bring shipments of moon sugar to Saraji, a young Nord with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. "Calm down, you're making a scene." At his words she looked around and realized a small crowd of vagrants had been watching them. Gods, what's wrong with me? I nearly killed another man and with a damn audience this time..
He pulled her to her feet and she yanked her arm from his grasp, picking up and corking what was left of her last skooma bottle. She glared at the woman who was curled on the ground still crying before seeing the Imperial man run while he had the opportunity. It made her furious all over again but she controlled herself from chasing after him. She had to be careful, and that meant the bastard was going to get away with his theft for now. Turning back towards the Nord she snapped, "Well I certainly hope you have the coin to make up for their folly if you're going to take up for them."
At that he chuckled and smiled a bit, "Come on darling. You know you weren't getting a damn Septim out of that lot. Let's go somewhere with some privacy and we'll speak of getting your gold."
He motioned for her to follow and she hesitated for only a moment before trailing behind him. She didn't remember much about him, only that he must've been either a new member to their organization or just some hired muscle as he seemed to usually be occupying the lobby with the other lackeys while they visited. The ones who ran the operation would join Saraji in the back room while everyone else enjoyed their fill of drink and whores, and Minerva would watch over them to make sure no one got out of hand with their fun. This one had been quiet but friendly, even so she was surprised he remembered her. Surely there's no way word about me could've reached this far this quickly… right? Suddenly she didn't know what to be more concerned about, retaliation from the Motierre family or from Saraji for running out on her and leaving her with a crime scene. It wasn't like he was out searching for me, she reassured herself. I made a spectacle of myself and he recognized me. He knows I have good product and he wants more. That' all. As she walked behind the Nord she could feel the friction of her dagger strapped under her sleeve, the weight on her skin a comforting presence.
They had walked a few blocks and she began to feel a few drops of rain fall from the dark, gray sky above. She inwardly groaned at the idea of having to avoid getting drenched and freezing again while making her way out of this Gods forsaken city. "Is it much further?" she asked impatiently.
He stopped before a small flight of stairs leading down a discrete back door to a basement of some establishment, a tavern she guessed from the heavy smell of soup and pipe smoke wafting from the windows. He turned back and gave her the same smirking smile as before, "It's right here."
She stopped short of following down the staircase and he chuckled a bit. "Come on, I promise it's not some trap. I wouldn't dare mess with you after seeing you give poor ol' Maurice the business." She glared at him but followed him regardless.
Inside this cellar was much nicer than the one where she had slept the night before. It was rather large, and had multiple rooms off to the sides with large hearths to keep the place warm. There were about a dozen round tables set up but only a few were occupied this early in the day, most of the men gathered at one in the center of the room. There sat a man who she did remember quite well, a middle aged Redguard named Alcor. He sat with three other men over bowls of soup and pipes full of sugared tobacco. When he looked up and saw her he smiled a toothy grin and gestured for her to sit down. "Well, well. If isn't Saraji's favorite kitten," he laughed.
She forced a smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. This was beginning to look like it might turn fortunate for her. Saraji had dealt with many unscrupulous and dangerous men but Alcor had always seemed relatively reasonable considering his industry. She had never seen him get violent in the Cathouse, with the girls or his men. He enjoyed his liquor well enough and seemed to mostly stay away from the skooma despite buying all of Saraji's available product. The sugared tobacco was to be expected, Saraji did buy moon sugar from him after all and mixing it in the pipe was a widely popular vice as it was known to be rather harmless considering the alternatives. His men all eyed her curiously but she kept her expression stony and disinterested, focusing only on Alcor. "It's been a long time Alcor."
He barked out a laugh between spoonfuls of soup. "Ahh, such a beautiful woman to remember the name of an ugly bastard like me. My dear you're going to make me blush!" He slammed his fist on the table. "Evan! Bring the poor thing some food, look at her she's wasting away."
Her day had been such a torrent a strong emotions from the moment she had awoken that she actually didn't realize how hungry she truly was until then, she hadn't eaten a thing since before she left the Imperial City. As if on cue her stomach growled loudly and her face turned a deep scarlet as the men all broke out in a hearty laughter. She already struggled to be even remotely intimidating, reaching barely over five feet and petite as she was. She hated feeling so disarmed by them so quickly.
Evan, the Nord who had led her there came over with a bowl of stew with a few heels of bread and placed it in front of her. "Don't worry darling, we won't charge you for it," he said with a wink.
"Well of course not," she started, her irritation rising at his comment, "I'm only here to be compensated for my loss anyway, isn't that right?" She stared right at him as she pulled the plate towards her and began to dunk the bread into the stew. "So I assume you're the ones claiming this- what was his name? Maurice?" She took a bite of the soaked bread and relief spread through her at the taste and warmth and she quickly shoved the rest in her mouth. "The one who stole from me," she explained, mouth full.
"Slow down kitten or you'll choke," Alcor said through his chuckles. "Tell me first, what are you doing so far from home all by yourself? Surely Saraji has not sent her favorite on an errand all alone."
She shook her head. "Of course not." After shoveling a few more spoonfuls of stew into her mouth she set her spoon down. "She probably doesn't even realize I'm gone yet, the drunk." She looked him in the eyes before explaining, "We got in a fight.. worse than usual. She struck me."
Alcor stared back blankly, waiting on her to continue. "And? You must think me a real fool if you think I believe you left the Cathouse over a strong hand. I don't believe there's a whore in the Imperial City that isn't slapped around by her Madam, or worse. What really happened?" The mirth in his expression had faded.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not on my face. She has always been careful to only hit my body before. She knew I was sick of her, sick of running the Cathouse for her while she drinks herself into Oblivion. She struck me because she thought I was going to leave for another brothel, somewhere would I would actually be paid my worth and not the scraps she throws us… but she was wrong. I don't want to be anyone's whore anymore. I just want to start over somewhere else, where she won't bother to try getting me back." Well, it wasn't a complete lie. She was tired of being a whore.
Alcor idly puffed on his pipe as he listened. "And where do you want to start over? I can't imagine Chorrol was your destination."
She shot him a grieved look. "Absolutely not, Oblivion take this city for all I care for it. I had actually considered High Rock… I've never been there before."
That made him smile. "Ahh, High Rock. You'd fit right in there, you're a real Breton beauty. Those pompous cunts in court would kill each to get a chance to buy you." Noticing her irritated expression he quickly corrected himself, "Though of course, you're no whore anymore." He grinned at her, "Saraji really fowled up running you off."
"Yes, well. None of that really matters until I get passage out of here or it's only a matter of time before someone drags me back there," she pressed. She glanced over at Evan. "He told me I was to speak to someone about what was stolen from me, to compensate my loses."
"And he would be right, except for your reimbursement." Her heart fell and frustration grew in it's place. "Unfortunately dear no one claims that filthy old man. I won't take responsibility for him and I won't give you gold for nothing. But I might have an opportunity for you that will accomplish both your goals and my own."
"You can get me into High Rock?"
He coughed out his drag of sugared tobacco. "High Rock? Oh no, you'll never get past the border. It's locked up tighter than a miser's purse with all the unrest pouring out from the north. And besides, there's no business there compared to in Skyrim."
"Skyrim?" He must be joking. "Why would I want to go to Skyrim of all places? There's a war going on up there!"
He grinned at her knowingly. "Yes, which makes it an easy place to hide. And for me, a great place to sell my goods."
She gaped at him, "You want me to go to Skyrim to sell your skooma? You must be out of your mind."
"No my dear, you misunderstand me. You left the Imperial City because you were tired of being owned. I can respect that, and would not think to threaten you into becoming my employee." He leaned in towards her. "But you need a favor from me, yes? You need out of Cyrodiil and you don't have the coin nor authority to get past the Empire's security. I'll do this for you, and even throw in a bag of gold if you do a favor for me."
Unease building her in abdomen she pressed him on, "And that would be?"
"The Empire's soldiers are on edge from the skirmishes up north. They've added security to the city's taverns and the bastards arrested my man who was to see my goods over the border. I need someone to take his place and see that my shipment reaches Falkreath. Afterwards, you can walk away from our arrangement with clean hands with no more obligations. Fair?"
She glared at him again, "Is this a joke? You want me to smuggle your skooma into Skyrim?" She gestured to the burly men who sat at the table with them. "You have all these lackeys right here in the city that you know and trust, why not have them do it?" She scoffed, "I mean what do you think I'm going to do on my own if someone tries to ambush me? Hell, when they try to ambush me. Do I look like I'm going to be able to intimidate or fight off a group of bandits on my own?"
He laughed loudly, "Oh, but I heard what you did to poor Maurice and his lady! I wouldn't doubt your ferocity for a moment, kitten. And besides, all of my men are known to the guards here. They will not allow any of us through, the one they arrested was the only one who had a chance. I paid for him to come all the way from Leyawiin to do this for me and such is my luck."
The comment was patronizing and it angered her but she steeled her expression. "Catching a drunkard off guard is a lot different than trying to fight an armored man who wants to kill you. I'm sorry, but this plan is ludicrous. I'll be killed long before I even make it to the border."
"Calm down. You're tough but I know better than to send a little thing like you alone. We've already hired someone to escort the shipment into Falkreath, and I'm sure he'll be competent enough to defend it. We just need someone on our side to accompany him and make sure he doesn't try any funny business. You don't even have to muscle him down, but if you suspect he's trying to skim off the top or steal any business you'll let our contact know, alright?"
At the mention of outside help she could not help but notice his men exchanging looks that ranged between amused and horrified that fed into her growing unease over the situation. "I don't know. I don't feel good about this."
He reached into a pouch on the table and loaded a pinch of sugared tobacco into his empty pipe before passing it to her. "Nothing that's worth having will come easily kitten. I can guarantee you will find no other passage out of Cyrodiil without paying a much steeper price either with your purse or by spreading your legs. You were Saraji's most beautiful girl, do you think it will take her long to try to send someone to retrieve you?"
If all that Saraji wanted from her was her body she certainly would not think she'd bother to send anyone to retrieve her. Her skooma production was what made her truly valuable in the Khajiit's eyes, but she did not want to admit that to him lest he propose something more long term. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed, "Who is he?"
Alcor cleared his throat and straightened up. "Now I must admit, he's an odd one. We've tailed him long enough to know he's deadly but you won't necessarily be convinced when you first meet him. It's part of what makes me so confident this is going to work."
Finally, she took a long drag from the pipe. She could feel the gentle effects of the moon sugar spreading through her torso and down to the fingertips. It was relaxing, but not overwhelming. "I want a satchel of moon sugar, too."
He frowned, "I'm already giving you a sack of gold, kitten. I'm sure you were familiar enough with Saraji's business to know that I only sell the very best, I cannot just give it away."
"Oh, I know. You just expect me to travel with a complete stranger, who I have to trust is going to defend me, on our way up bandit infested roads into a literal battleground. All with a lifetime's sentence of skooma with me!" She handed him back his pipe. "I think you can spare me some sugar for the damn trouble."
He sat back and gave her a stubborn look for a few moments before sighing and reaching into his satchel hanging from the chair. "Very well. You're lucky you're so pretty, you know that?" He said as he pulled out two small pouches and moved to hand them to her.
She quickly pocketed them into her own bag. She was eager to move on and get the hell out of here. The thought of having to smuggle contraband through Legion security was terrifying, and the longer she waited the more she would just dwell on it and let it make her sick. "So, where am I going?"
Alcor grinned that toothy grin at her again. "The graveyard. You'll know him when you see him, trust me."