IV: Unbound
When Tluldir arrived at Winecocks, she'd been so intent on drinking-then-hooking-up she hadn't noticed a band of minstrels playing music. She hadn't noticed them playing, the whole time, as she talked about her . . . arch enemy? lust-target? She only noticed the band as she strode toward Solitar. They were playing some instrumental traditional Nordic dreck which Lull nonetheless had to admit fit the inn/brothel's environment well. It felt bawdy and fun. Lull imagined that if it had lyrics they would've been about a Nord man killing a bunch of elves and then fucking a dragon. Or maybe fucking a bunch of elves and killing a dragon.
So it was apropos when she went right up to Solitar—several trollops and two uniformed city watchpeople were gathered around him, but none of them stopped her—and the first thing he said to her was, "Ever heard the dumb Nord joke?"
One of Solitar the Naughty's companions left the group as Lull arrived; as Lull approached, another of Sol's companions hopped onto his lap like she owned it: a tall Breton with what had to be the biggest pair of tits in Skyrim. Lull halted. The woman, another trollop, seemed to take a bite of his ear, and then presumably said something. But just as Lull was about to give up and return to the bar, the Breton—tall for a Breton, but still short for anyone else—hopped back off His Naughtiness and strode to the bar like she owned the establishment itself—floor, walls, ceiling, bar, drinks—too. She walked right past Lull, and didn't seem to notice her.
Lull's mind went blank at Sol's question, then the word "No" fell out of her mouth.
"I've heard variations, but here's the constant:" Sol said. Lull didn't understand why all the other people sitting around him weren't talking anymore. Several side-conversations between his . . . whore-companions? whorepanions? . . . ceased, and they all listened to him, looking from him to Lull and back. He looked to a Nord woman in maybe her thirties, wearing next-to nothing and sitting on another Nord woman's lap (that bottom Nord was older, and very nearly appropriately-clothed), and said, "Jyten, will you play the kindly bar-goer, please?"
"Happy to," presumably-Jyten said. She was the one on top. Lull stared at the battle scars and Nordic knotting tattoos on her rather muscled belly, shoulders and arms. Lull still didn't understand what that knotting stuff was, or what any of it meant.
Sol looked back to Lull like he was excited to share this. Grinning, he said, "A blind Cyrodiil walks into a bar not unlike this one, but with only sixty people in it, sits, pays for a bottle of wine and a glass, notices they sat by another bar-goer—" He gestured to Jyten, who bowed at Lull for some reason. "—and says to them—" He looked to Jyten but kept his mouth toward Lull. "—'Wanna hear a joke about a dumb Nord?'" he said. When he spoke in the blind Imperial's voice, he dropped his own Altmeri accent and vocal tics and did a rather good impression of an Imperial on the spot. Caricatured, but what good impression wasn't? Several of the people in his—their?—group, the whorepanions, laughed at that alone.
Jyten giggled but stayed in character—atop the older Nord woman's lap, she made like she was sitting on a stool at a bar. Jyten exaggerated her own Nordic accent as she replied, "Before you tell it, you need to know something."
"Said the fellow bar-goer," Sol said, back in his normal voice. He sounded nearly as cocksure and confident as any Altmer but without the bloated arrogance or masturbatory racial self-importance or entitlement, Lull noticed. She liked that, if little else about him. She liked his lack of haughtiness, and his surfeit of height. And his combat prowess. Three things. Sol looked to Lull and pretended to be conspiratorial as he said, "An astute listener will note that the fellow bar-goer is a Nord. And that, being blind, even a Cyrodiil with no interest in other people's cultures—or who thinks his superior to them—would have to perceive that detail." He sat back up, no longer conspiratorial. "To whit, the Cyrodiil says," Sol said, pantomime-pouring wine into a glass and then smelling the wine as he used his character-voice again: "'What's that?' To which the kindly bar-goer says:"
"For one thing, the bartender is a Nord," Jyten-as-bar-goer-on-a-stool said. The older Nord beneath her put a hand on Jyten's thigh as she spoke, but Jyten didn't seem to notice it, or if she did she didn't mind it. "And so is the doorman," Jyten continued. "The woman on your other side—she's a Nord too." Jyten pointed at various other Nords around them in their real surroundings. "Those two big strappers by the bar—they're Nords. Actually, almost everyone in here is a Nord. As am I," Jyten said, leaning toward Sol.
"Quoth the Nord bar-goer, leaning close to the blind Cyrodiil," Sol said.
"So," Jyten said, still in character, "you still wanna tell that joke about a dumb Nord?"
"The blind Cyrodiil clears his throat—" Sol cleared his throat. "—and sounds a tad discouraged as he says, 'Nah, I'd just have to explain it sixty times.'"
Sol's whorepanions burst into laughter, Jyten and the two uniformed city watchpeople included. Sol smiled and took a drink of something dark from a near-empty glass, inclining his head toward Lull. Lull suddenly felt self-conscious and awkward, like a hearth had been brought underneath her, but then she got the joke all at once and involuntarily laughed along with everyone else.
A few of Sol's whorepanions clapped at the joke as he drank what was left of his own drink. He bowed politely at the applause.
The tits—err, woman—who'd left the group as Lull arrived got back, and climbed back onto Sol's lap. She bore gifts: another full drink for him, and one for herself. Gods, but she was beautiful.
"A simple story well told," said one of his whorepanions, a dark elf man. The busty Breton hadn't even noticed Lull yet. The dark elf man was rather scantily-clad. Lull had hired man-whores here on several occasions; if this man was one of the place's whores, she'd never noticed him before. He wasn't bad-looking. Though he seemed rather soft.
"Thank you," Sol said to the dark elf, accepting his drink with a silly amount of cheek-kisses between himself and the busty Breton. They put their arms around each other. Lull knew nothing of Sol's personal life, really, but somehow she felt like he was already her property; the Breton atop him challenged her. Sol looked to Lull and said, "Lady Guildmaster, I suspect you'd like a word."
"I would," Lull said.
The Breton on Sol's lap acknowledged Lull now, and gave her a rather naked look of "You're not even close to good enough for him." Which hurt, somehow.
Sol looked disappointed, perhaps only to no longer have a beautiful woman with silly-large tits draped about him. He leaned close to that woman and said something Lull heard none of. The Breton gave Lull a look of displeasure, but allowed him to help her get back off of him, and then for him to stand. She took his spot. Neither of them spilled so much as a drop of their drinks as they changed places, and left Sol standing. Impressive. He stepped toward Lull.
"Before you say anything—again, I apologize for detaining you for so long," he said. He meant it.
"It's all right," Lull said. "You were just doing your job. Unlike . . . " Lull's eyes wandered to the two uniformed city watchpeople nearby.
"Individual decision," Sol said. "You can't control people. And, I thank you. I wanted to release you at the end of the second day, but—"
"—Didn't," Lull said.
"True but irrelevant," Sol said. "Both Maven and Jarl Law-Giver have very firm, clear standing agreements with me: If I imprison anyone, be they a street urchin or whatever the sitting emperor is called, I am not to release that person without their say-so. And as to you on your second day of jail, I lacked that say-so. Either's. Things in The Rift are so bent that if I'd released you, I wouldn't have been doing my duty. As it is here."
"As a simple city watchman?" Lull said.
"Not quite," Sol said. "Anymore. Though that's the essence of it. I get rotated around, such as to the farmlands, or loaned out on occasion." He took a long pull of his drink.
All of Sol's whorepanions were watching this interaction—especially Lull's part of it—closely. In silence.
"Can we speak at the bar?" Lull said.
"As you wish," Sol said. "May I meet you there in a moment? I have adieus to bid."
"Fine," Lull said and showed her back to him. He went back to his friends. Lull heard one harlot say, "You're not leaving?!"
By the time Lull had secured two stools at the bar, Sol was still saying his goodbyes. Everyone hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. In some sort of jape, the two uniformed guards—who hadn't removed their helms—pretended to do the same. It was so absurd Lull couldn't help but giggle. Despite herself. Sometimes she forgot people other than herself had senses of humor. Lull gathered that the whorepanions were either close friends of his, or all drunk; likely some of both. One of them grabbed a fistful of Sol's ass during the embrace. He didn't seem to mind.
Sol dodged a very drunken, three-person brawl on his way to Lull. She did enjoy his martial prowess, if only that one thing about him. Also his voice and his lips. So, three things.
"Greetings, my lady," Sol said as he reached her, as if he hadn't just walked straight through a fight. He stood waiting for a hand to be offered; Lull gestured to the seat beside her. "I hope your day's gone well." Lull didn't mean that as a slight, though he might've taken it as one. She didn't know the first thing about Altmeri etiquette or table manners, except that they were complicated.
"It's fine," Lull said.
"Do you accept my apology?" Sol said.
"I do," Lull said.
"To seal the deal of that—may I buy you a drink? Of your choosing. Or dinner. Whatsoever you desire. I know not if you've eaten—"
Lull cocked an eyebrow and grinned at the "whatever you desire," said, "I've eaten, but yes, I'll take that drink," and gestured over whomever behind the bar.
She had the good fortune of getting the bar's main tender, its manager really, a stocky Nord called Anina Iron-Belly, who ambled over without hesitation. She had the most wonderful legs, but always hid them from view, either behind the bar counter or with clothing.
"An unlikely pairing," Anina said, nodding at both of them, and smiling at the corner of her mouth, with equal respect—thief-master and law-enforcement—which Lull was almost insulted by. "What'll ya have? First round's on me." She sounded amused at the pair of them.
Lull looked to Sol, wanting him to choose. He didn't want to order for her at all, and didn't even acknowledge it, saying, "I believe the powers-that-be conspired to prevent this meeting."
"Think so?" Lull said, mostly looking over the various drinks on offer.
"Which powers?" Anina said.
"Maven and Jarl Law-Giver," Sol said to Anina. "I do so think," he said to Lull. "I'd be happy to be mistaken. A way I've heard them speaking in the last few days—I'm confident they kept us apart, by design."
Anina grinned.
"Did they giggle and point at you?" Lull said.
"No," Sol admitted. "Though, for instance, they usually both have me within earshot for anything—not so for a few brief moments, of late. Also, everyone on both their staffs has told me so—Anuriel, Unmid, Harrald, Maul. Even Wylandriah."
Lull shrugged, trying to say without words that he should've led with that last piece of evidence.
"I insist you shut up and take my money, for the first round if nothing else," Sol said to Anina. "Rum for me, please," he said, and looked to Lull as he said, "For the lady?"
Lull looked at him surprised before saying to Anina, "Rum. Straight."
Anina raised an eyebrow. "Coming right up."
"Were you showing off with that Nord joke?" Lull said.
"No," Sol said.
"That you could tell it at a Nord bar, with Nord patrons, and get a Nord whore to participate in it?" Lull said.
"Don't say 'whores,'" Sol said.
"Why not?" Lull said.
"Because you say it as a negative," he said. Lull didn't understand. "Anyway Jyten's not a sex worker. She simply likes to dress like that, and people here don't judge her for it. Or the scars."
" . . . Oh," Lull said. "Were either of them whores? Sex workers."
"The one on the bottom works here," Sol said. "But no, I wasn't showing off—I don't care about status or race, or prestige or position, whatever you meant by that. I thought you came here to attack me, so I told a joke hoping to relax you." He smiled. "I see what you say about the Nord aspect of it; I didn't notice that 'til afterward. It was simply the first joke I thought of. Thank you for putting more thought into it than I did, I suppose."
"You're—I wasn't going to attack you," Lull said, interrupting herself.
"That's good," Sol said. "I wondered why you didn't hire someone to kill me. Or assault me."
"I've been in Riften for eight or ten months," Lull said. "A few days is nothing. And I was guilty."
"I know," Sol said. "It's a best intentions matter. I intended you to be locked up for at most a day. Not more."
"I know," Lull said. "Besides, you helped me see who my true friends are."
"How so?" Sol said. She believed he already knew, without asking, even before he locked her up. A lot of people had visited her, but not one of them had broken her out, or tried to.
"As you said, Maven or Laila could've had me out in an instant. In a word. But they didn't," Lull said. "As for the rest of them—some visited. They all—nearly all—mocked or insulted me. I felt like no one had my back. Supported me."
"So your true friends are . . . " Sol said. It seemed like an honest question.
"Just one person," Lull said, leaning closer to Sol. "You."
His eyebrows went up. He didn't pull back or lean away in the least. "I would be proud to consider you a friend—"
"You are," Lull said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He felt warm through his simple clothing.
He glanced at her hand, then perhaps noticed her cleavage for the first time as he looked back up to her eyes. Hers didn't compare with those of the Breton who'd sat atop him moments ago, but he was still a man. Well, a male. He said, "I don't think I earned that by imprisoning you against your will."
"I was brazen," Lull said. "Any other guard who caught me would've taken advantage, in many ways. By sex or bribe. You . . . showed me the truth. And you were kind. Respectful. I didn't deserve that. But I still got it—from you." She took one of his hands in both of hers and leaned yet closer to him. She saw his eyes check in the direction of the Breton woman. Lull was close enough that she didn't need to raise her voice anymore to be audible over the bar's din.
"Where's your dog?" Lull asked Sol.
"At the watch barracks," Sol said. "He had a long day; before I came here, I took him for a long run, then dropped him off there to rest and be off-the-job for a while."
"Do you like it here? In Riften?" Lull asked. Sol's eyes looked sad.
"Not anymore," Sol said. "Not really." He stared off into the distance, lost in thought.
"I don't either," Lull said. "Anymore." Sol's eyes snapped right back to hers. He'd looked at her before plenty, wary of her movements and motives, but he'd never looked at her as if he had anything in common with her. This new look felt wonderful. "For such a long time, I hugely looked forward to getting here—finally, the thief's capital of majestic Skyrim. But . . . I've always been rather disappointed with it. I'm—" She paused, looking abashed. "I've never been able to put words to this before."
"I've thought about it a lot—precisely this same thing—but I've never wanted to speak with anyone about it," Sol confessed. He made it look easy to admit something so powerful. He truly looked into Lull's eyes, now. He'd never seen honesty in them before. "I have this feeling as if I've been looking for something all my life, and I've never come close to finding it. I'm not sure if I would know if I did, anymore. Now I'm . . . suspended in thought here, meditation. Contemplation. For . . . " he trailed off.
"For the meantime," Lull said, at almost exactly the same instant he thought it.
"Yes," Sol said. He felt himself getting lost in Lull's eyes. She seemed to be doing the same in his.
Anina slammed two pewter steins onto the bar, seemingly right beside Lull's ear for the stun it gave her. Lull took her hands off Sol and leaned back, embarrassed. "Round's up," Anina said. She didn't seem aware of Lull's previous intimate proximity with Sol. "That'll be one septim."
Sol looked to Lull, contrite, and dug into a pocket, saying to Anina, "To anybody else that'd be at least twelve."
"Your money carries more weight than most," Anina said, accepting Sol's one coin.
"Thank you for the drinks and for letting me pay," Sol said to her.
"You're welcome, my friend," Anina said, smiling.
The instant Anina went away, Lull seized her rum stein and imbibed the drink as quick as she could, spilling only a little.
"Are you—" Sol began to say.
"Let's fuck," Lull said, too loudly, as she felt her belly burning, before she could stop herself.
"Any certain positions?" Sol asked, putting an arm around her waist.
"Just bend me over the table and fuck me," Lull said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Or maybe the bed."