Author's Note: First of all, thank you all for the reviews and the story alerts! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy!

Here's the second of the "I'm Not a Chew Toy!" series!

Again, this is unbeta'd so mistakes are mine.

2 Weeks Later, Windhelm

Jordis the Sword-Maiden was nervous as she stood near the giant walls that housed Windhelm. Not the nervousness that came from knowing that a dragon could land at any moment in front of her or the tiny prick of fear when surrounded by a bandit brigade.

This fear came in the form of a letter. A letter urging her to come to Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm as soon as possible. And at the end of the letter, the words "We have much to discuss" and the very elegant signature of her Thane compounded her fear. And as she stood at the gates of the city, amidst her thoughts, Jordis failed to notice a Dunmer in simple clothing walk up to her.

"Excuse me, warrior." She looked at the man. "Are you Jordis of Solitude," he asked.

She looked at the man suspiciously, her hand inched towards her blade. "Why do you need to know?"

"There's no need for that," he said, motioning to her sword, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Malthyr. I work in the Gray Quarter but sometime I do business with the Thane of the region. She asked me to look out for three Nord female warriors who entered the city."

"So M'rasha hired you to be look out?"

"Pretty much."

"Anything else?"

"Nope. Just head into Candlehearth Hall," he pointed towards the large building next to him, "Once you're in, climb the stairs. The other two ladies will be waiting. I'll go and get the Thane."

With that the man darted down a street and around a corner. Jordis followed his instructions. Once inside the building, she climbed the stairs. On the second floor of the inn, a familiar voice pierced her ears and caused her to let out and annoyed sigh.

"Well, look who finally dragged themselves out of their feather downed bed."

'Oh no…'

Jordis turned her head. There, tucked in the corner of the room, away from the other locals, were the two women who had gotten her into all of this mess. Iona was busy nursing a cup in her hands, glaring at the Solitude native. Lydia, on the other hand, had her head on the table and did not even acknowledge the blonde's presence.

The normally calm warrior couldn't help but sneer at the younger woman. She looked down and noticed the cup. "Will that cup stay in your hands or should I take off my armor you ruin it with whatever is in there?"

The Rift native scoffed, placing the cup on the table. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Deciding that was as close as a truce she was going to get, Jordis walked over and sat in an empty chair. The waitress came by, took the empty pitcher on the table and replaced it with a new one. She turned to take Jordis' order but the blonde waved her away. Jordis placed her hands on the table. "What are you two doing here?"

"You got a letter from M'rasha, right? We received one as well. Though you did take your sweet little time getting here. I was starting to think a dragon got you."

Lydia picked up her head and clicked her tongue towards the auburn-haired warrior. "Oh hush up Iona. I live father…fartherer…I live more away from Windhelm and I still beat you!"

Jordis looked at Lydia puzzled, "Is she drunk?"

The Whiterun housecarl turned to the blonde, scowled and pointed her finger angrily at Jordis, "I am not drunk!" Her head then fell back onto the table. "Tipsy, yess but not druuuunk. Don't call me drunk!" She bolted from her seat and leaned over Jordis, still glassy-eyed and so close that the blonde could smell the alcohol coming from the brunette.

"Sit down," Jordis growled. When Lydia did not, Jordis pushed her back into the chair.

The brunette threw her head back and began to laugh, "You'd be drunk too if you…(hic)…knew what she has in store for us." Her laughing died down and once again she placed her head onto the table.

Iona put down her mug, looking at the intoxicated Nord. "And you do?"

"Hello, ladies." Jordis went still. This was the moment she was dreading all week. She turned her head but saw someone she did not expect.

It was not her Thane standing behind her. Instead, a man wearing brown clothing, a leather cap and a sleazy smile stood near the women's table. Jordis sighed and groaned simultaneously. The man grabbed an empty chair and placed it near Jordis' and sat, still leering at the trio. Iona gave the man a look over and curled up her mouth in disdain before deciding to just ignore the man. Lydia kept her head on the table and from her breathing Iona thought the older woman had fallen asleep.

"What are you fine Nord warriors doing, drinking alone," he asked wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's none of your concern," stated Iona.

"I think it is. And it is my duty to see that you three drink with Rolff," he placed a hand on Jordis' armored thigh. She retaliated by smashing her gauntleted hand onto his own causing Rolff to cry out in pain and cradle his now injured hand. Iona let out a chuckle and Jordis just shrugged and gave the man a smile.

"Sorry. I thought I saw a cockroach," she explained, "Must have run away."

Suddenly, Rolff's demeanor changed. "Think you're clever," he sneered, "Don't you, bitch?"

Lydia chose this moment to pick up her head and glance at the annoyed blonde. "Ahh…Jordan?"

"Jordis."

"Whatever," she pointed at Rolff, "Did this man say he wanted us to cut off his hand?"

Jordis rolled her eyes and was about to correct the drunk when an evil idea formed in her head. She turned and smiled at Rolff. "Why yes Lydia, I believe he did."

Rolff gulped as Lydia unsteadily rose to her feet and unsheathed her sword. She pointed it at the man. "Thas what I thought. Come little man. Let's see if I can do this tipsy." Rolff, realizing he was injured, had no weapon on him, and that a very drunk woman with a sword was coming after him, made the surprisingly intelligent choice and bolted from his seat and out the nearest door. Lydia watched the man flee the inn, re-sheathed her sword and plopped back down in her chair with a frown.

"Aw. I'm sad now." Lydia closed her eyes and again placed her head back on the table. And for a moment the scene at the inn resembled any regular night. The Dunmer bard pulled out her lute and began strumming the first notes to "The Dragonborn Comes" while other patrons listened and cheered and drank to their hearts content. And for a moment, everything was calm.

But just for a moment.

Suddenly, Lydia jerked her head off the table and towards Iona, an angry scowl on the brunette's face. Iona noticed the frown and raised an eyebrow, "What? Is there something on my face?"

"You threw a cup at my head."

"Well y-" Lydia's sudden punch knocked Iona out of the chair and onto the floor.

Everyone in the inn went quiet once Iona hit the floor. Lydia swung her head towards the stunned Jordis and growled. "And you hit my thane in the eye!"

Before the blonde could move, she found herself tackled to the floor with the brunette on top of her. Jordis could only cover her face while Lydia began throwing punches at her head.

"She's my thane," another voice rang out. Iona jumped onto Lydia's back and wrapped her hands around the brunette's throat, trying to bring the crazy drunk down. The Whiterun housecarl roared and began flailing around, attempting to get the smaller woman off her back. "Get off me, ya skeever ass!"

The inn's other patrons darted out of the way as Lydia spun around wildly trying to knock the extra weight off. When the flailing failed, Lydia turned and smashed the still clinging Iona into one of the inn's walls. Iona let out a groan and she slumped off of Lydia and onto the floor, holding her head.

Lydia smirked but the smile quickly disappeared when she felt something collide with her head. She turned and snarled at the now standing Jordis who was holding the handle to a broken jar. "That. Hurt." She began swinging slow hooks at the Solitude native. Jordis was able to duck the sluggish punches and soon was able to catch one of Lydia's arms. She started to pull it behind the drunk's back. While Jordis struggled with Lydia, Iona knocked the cobwebs from her head and slowly got to her feet.

Jordis called out to the other woman, "Get her other arm!"

Iona stumbled towards the fighting pair and grabbed the other thrashing arm. But Lydia was not one to be taken down lightly, especially when she was drunk. Lydia wrenched her arm out of Iona's grip, grabbed her auburn locks and yanked back. Iona let out a scream and began trying to get Lydia off of her. Lydia then pulled the woman's head down and smashed her armored knee into Iona's face, effectively putting Iona out of commission.

It wasn't until Iona was out cold on the floor did someone from the crowd run out to search for a guard. Lydia elbowed Jordis in the face and staggered away. She turned and pulled out her sword, pointing it at Jordis.

"You, come here." Jordis was able to pull out her sword just as Lydia struck. The ensuing fight was pretty one-sided with Jordis on defense, blocking Lydia's erratic swings as they danced around the inn while patrons dove under tables and took shelter on the staircase. And then Jordis started pushing back, hoping she could catch the brunette off balance and then take her to the floor. They were near the stairs when the complete opposite happened. Lydia suddenly ducked down and swept the blonde's legs with her own causing Jordis to fall over and before she could get up, the brunette kicked her in the face, knocking the blonde unconscious.

Lydia crouched down and poked the woman with her sword and looked around at the stunned crowd. "She's my Thane. Get it right."

A voice cried out from behind Lydia, "You! Stop!" Still from her crouched, Lydia spun in place, stood and punched the interloper in the jaw. The person cried out and stumbled down the stairs.

"M'rasha!" Hearing her Thane's name sobered Lydia and she peered down the stairs. Sure enough M'rasha was lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs surrounded by some of the bar patrons. She made an attempt to go and aid her Thane when a pair of hands dragged her back. She turned to see the faces of two town guards.

"And where are you going?"

Lydia could only bow her head as her stomach fell. "Well, shit."

The cells in the dungeons were cramp and barely fit one person. So Iona didn't understand why the guards would stick the three of them in the same one. She walked away from the bars and sat on the hard cold floor.

"Can't believe I'm in jail," she grumbled, poking her bandaged forehead, "I mean we didn't tear up the place. She did."

Jordis sighed from her spot near the bars and glared at Iona with her one good eye. "Please shut up."

"No, I'm going to be as loud as I want."

"The three of you," the guard on duty yelled, "Shut your mouths or I'll shut 'em!"

Again, Iona grumbled and turned her anger to the other occupant of the cell, "Stupid drunk."

Lydia flinched as she continued to stare silently into a corner. Jordis noticed that ever since she came to, Lydia was quiet. At first she was going to take her vengeance on her fellow housecarl. Then she noticed the heartbroken look on Lydia's face, as if she had just learned that dragons had just killed her family and all of Jordis' rage seemed to die. She tried coaxing the woman to say something, anything but Lydia stayed quiet. So she left the brunette alone and took her place near the cell bars, hoping that M'rasha would come to bail them out.

Just as she closed her eyes to sleep, some murmurings caught her attention. She looked up and saw that the guard watching them was no longer alone. A red-haired man in armor stood next to him. He dropped a large bag onto the small table and Jordis watched as a small amount of gold spilled out. The two had a few more words before the guard nodded and approached the cell.

"You three are lucky," the guard stated, unlocking the cell door. The three women shuffled out and their belongings were returned to them. As they put their armor back on and positioned their weapons, the red-haired man walked up to them. Blind in one eye, the man looked at them, a slight scowl on his face.

"You three. With me. Now."

The four of them walked out of the dungeon and out of the palace in absolute silence. The way their supposed 'savior' had stared at them before, told them he was in no mood for conversation. The women shielded their eyes once outside from the harsh light of the sun. But they had no time to relax or recuperate as the man continued his brisk pace. He led them through the city's residential area and the graveyard.

He stopped in front of the city's entrance and turned to the trio. "My name is Calder," he stated, "I am M'rasha's housecarl."

Iona rolled her eyes. "Another housecarl. Perfect."

Calder gave the Riften housecarl a stony stare and she went silent. "Yes, but unlike you, M'rasha does not need to worry that I will embarrass her."

"Now…" Calder raised his hand to stop her comment.

"No. There is a time to talk and a time to listen. And this is the time to listen."

Iona opened her mouth but then closed it, slightly wary about what the bigger man would do.

Calder crossed his arms, "You started a brawl in the busiest inn in the region. You caused hundreds of Septims in damage. You got yourselves thrown in jail. Those are not actions befitting a housecarl. And because of those actions M'rasha now has to clean up your mess."

Lydia stepped forward, "Is there anyway we could see her? To apologize."

"She doesn't want to see you," he spat out, "Especially when you sent her flying down the stairs." Lydia cringed, casting her eyes towards the ground. Jordis and Iona were shocked. 'So that's why Lydia didn't want to talk.'

Calder walked past them and started down an alley.

"Go home," he commanded as he left, "She will send word when she needs you."

One week later

A weary M'rasha sat at her desk and finished her bottle of wine. To put it plainly, the Khajiit was troubled. Not by the upcoming war or the dragons. Or the fact that the College was running low on soul gems again (She really needed to do inventory).

No, her problem came in the form of three women; Three strong, beautiful and extremely jealous housecarls who wanted nothing but to rip each other apart. Sadly, their lust for destruction only complicated things for M'rasha. Two fights in two separate inns, a very large amount of gold to pay back, numerous reprimands. And thinking about it only made her head hurt. What she wanted was to sleep, a massage or for this problem to rectify itself.

She received one of her wishes when a strong pair of hands landed on her shoulders and began to ease the tension out of her weary muscles. M'rasha let out a sigh and leaned into the hands as the scent of burnt wood and apples hit her nose.

"J'zargo, you now you could always switch professions if becoming a wizard doesn't work out."

"You wound me with your words," the Apprentice stated putting more pressure into his massage, "How did you know it was J'zargo?"

M'rasha let out a deep purr. "Right there. I heard you the moment you opened the door. Plus you smell."

The apprentice stopped and sniffed his arm. "J'zargo smells bad?"

"J'zargo smells of home."

J'zargo nodded and continued the massage. "Is M'rasha okay?" She scrunched her face and tilted her head to stare at him. "Why do you ask?"

"J'zargo is not blind. J'zargo sees that the Arch-Mage has been worrying about something but you keep it to yourself." He bent down and nuzzled the back of her hair.

"That obvious, huh?" J'zargo nipped at her neck causing her to let out a yelp and push his head away. "None of that!"

"Maybe J'zargo can help."

M'rasha rolled her eyes. "No sex."

He shrugged. "I did not offer."

She opened her mouth and but then closed it, smirking."Touché." She groaned and let her head loll forward as his hand pressed on an extremely sensitive spot. She glanced up at the younger man and let out another sigh. "Okay, I guess I can tell you."

J'zargo stopped his rub, grabbed a near by chair and sat across from the Arch-Mage with his head in his hand, looking more like a housewife who's about to get the latest gossip. Before she started, M'rasha used her telepathy and grabbed another bottle of wine off the shelf and passed it to the younger man.

"So you know that I am a Thane." The man nodded, uncorking the bottle and pour each person a cup.

"I have these three housecarls and alone, they're fine but together…"

"You can't handle them," J'zargo chuckled and finished his wine. "The mighty Dragonborn can't handle three women?"

"Shut it!" M'rasha went on to give J'zargo details about their behaviors and their fights in Windhelm and Riften.

"And it's driving me insane!" M'rasha she finished her wine and let her head hit the table, "And depleting my funds."

"Do you know what J'zargo thinks? J'zargo thinks your housecarls are not Nords. They are dogs in disguise." M'rasha couldn't help but laugh. But as ridiculous as the idea was, her fellow mage's comments did make much more sense.

"But if they're dogs what does that make me," she asked.

"Isn't it obvious," he laughed, "You are a succulent bone."

M'rasha growled and hurled the mug at J'zargo who easily ducked the projectile. "I am not a chew toy. And that doesn't tell me how to deal with this."

"Well," J'zargo tapped his finger in the goblet and looked smugly at the Arch-Mage, "What do you do when a child misbehaves?"

"You…wait, you're saying to grab them and put them over my knee and…"

Before she could tell the younger Khajiit how insane his idea was, an idea popped into her head. A devious, cruel, delectably wicked idea that caused a giant grin to appear on her face.

Seeing the grin, J'zargo moved the chair closer to his fellow Khajiit. "You have an idea."

"Yes I do."

J'zargo slid off the chair and placed his head on the woman's lap and purred. "Can J'zargo help?"

"No."

He looked up at the older woman pouting, "Please?" He let out a deep purr.

"If you want to help me, send Brelyna and Tolfdir to me. And then go finish your fire scrolls."

He rose from her lap and scowled. "You are a cruel woman."

"Bye J'zargo." She waved at his back as he stomped off, like a child, out the room. She got up from the chair, skipped happily to the bookshelf and began scanning the shelves. Once in a while she would pull a book out and place it on a nearby table. She was pulling out another book when a cough grabbed her attention. She turned to see Brelyna and Tolfdir standing near the side table.

"You called for us Arch-Mage," the Master wizard asked.

"Are you two the midst any projects," she asked, pulling down yet another book. Brelyna looked at Tolfdir and shook her head.

"It seems that Brelyna is free and as for me I just have to finish writing my latest findings and send it to you. Shouldn't take me more than an hour."

She walked over to the two. "Good. Then you can help me with one of mine."

The Dunmer and the Nord looked at each other for only a moment before turning back to M'rasha, small smiles on their faces. "I believe I can speak for both us," Brelyna stated, "And say that we would be honored to assist you Arch-Mage."

The Khajiit placed an arm around each mage and smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."