Bishop's head was swirling incessantly.
He remembered the blissful morning at The Bannered Mare – the last time he got this shitfaced.
It was so much better when he didn't remember a thing.
This time, the flashes of previous night returned to him constantly.
He went through a myriad of moods throughout the evening. He remembered sulking in the corner of the inn, drinking Dragon's Breath and wistfully thinking on the night he spent there with Aeyrin right before they got to that fucking monastery. He was still a bit, upset that their game got cut short, but to be honest, he couldn't really think of anything more to make her do.
Well, that was a lie, he could think of an endless number of things he would want to make her do.
Like getting on her knees in front of him, those beautiful black eyes looking up, her cheeks flushed with shyness and excitement at the same time… fuck, that was the exact same problem he had that night. Anything he wanted to do would break the promise he gave her.
He remembered watching the singing and dancing villagers hatefully. How dared they have fun while he was pissed off? Who was he pissed off at again? Was it Aeyrin for not understanding him? Or was it himself?
It didn't matter. Pissed off is pissed off.
He remembered suddenly singing and dancing drunkenly with the crowd. Why? He didn't do that. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He watched how a girl got up on a table and danced, quite skillfully, but he caught himself thinking of Aeyrin's drunken song and dance. It was so much worse, outright ridiculous, but somehow it mesmerized him beyond comprehension.
Was it always like that when he liked a person?
He thought for a while when was the last time he actually enjoyed someone's company. Jules, probably.
Come to think of it, he never really enjoyed anyone else's company, ever.
He remembered his cheerful face, his chipper attitude about everything. It was something he found so infuriating about other people, but never him. It was even charming when he did it.
It was the same with her now.
Everything she did, everything she represented, he should hate that – the eagerness and helpfulness, it was so stupid, it got people killed; the shyness and reservations, why would he want that, he got nothing out of it. And worst of all, that fucking religious crap. How he hated that, the twisted zealotry of anyone worshipping those useless Divines. Those damn principles and commands that turned people into mindless slaves to purpose. He knew it all too well – his own family was proof enough. Why wasn't that a fucking red flag? Why? Why didn't it annoy him, or warn him away? Why did he actually come to admire her stupid convictions?
He remembered getting some fresh air, walking across the bridge to the patch of wood where they held their archery competition. He could still see the glass shards glittering on the ground in the moonlight.
Why did he come there? When did he get so fucking sentimental?
She didn't want him around anyways… no… she just didn't understand.
Those fossils warped her head, guilted her into their own way of thinking. Of course she responded to old haughty know-it-alls throwing her disapproving looks, that's what she was used to.
Besides, she would come back.
He left Karnwyr, told him to make sure she was alright, to watch out for her. The old geezers might have been as dangerous as any dragon, once she succumbed to that damn despair, it would be too hard to come back from. Karnwyr could help her keep her spirit up, he always did that for him, there was nothing to worry about.
Besides, she would have to come back with him, she would never send him down the mountain alone, there could have been another dragon around.
She cared about the wolf too much to abandon him.
Did she care about Bishop enough not to abandon him either?
He remembered returning to the inn and seeing that fucking drunkard that bothered Aeyrin the last night they were there.
A thought occurred to him that he kind of was a drunkard that couldn't keep his hands off her that night too. And not just that night, come to think of it. But as present company suggested, if she minded, she would eventually punch him. And he bet it would hurt too. That little thing had impressive strength; he never would have guessed when he met her.
Damn, that drunk had nothing on his face that suggested he was ever punched. That was a problem. He needed to fix that. A shiner or a broken nose would go perfectly with his ugly mug.
Well… a lot happened after that.
He found out that he himself in fact did not look better with a black eye, but that lecher certainly did. Oh well.
Maybe Aeyrin would heal it for him when she got back. Of course she would, even if she came back only to yell in his face, she would still heal him.
Then he saw her.
…
A sudden bark right by his room door interrupted his reminiscing.
That was Karnwyr.
He heard the innkeeper yell to get the mangy beast out of the tavern.
He wasn't mangy!
Bishop turned to his side, looking over the gold-blond tresses splayed on the pillow beside him, the naked girl curled into a ball right next to him. He got compelled to run his fingers through the hair but stopped himself.
He didn't want to wake her.
He remembered spotting her in the room last night. His breath caught in his throat as the hair shone in the demure firelight. It was like a signaling beacon, he cursed under his breath for being so drunk, but then she turned towards him, a smile playing on her lips.
And the deep disappointment set in.
She was pretty, and she obviously took an interest in him, hanging around all night, drinking with him and giggling merrily.
But it wasn't her.
He remembered his mood getting increasingly morose throughout the night to the point where he didn't care anymore. He remembered keeping her back to him all the way through, pressing her against the wall or keeping her on all fours in a strange attempt not to see face.
He also remembered fixating himself on her hair a lot, keeping his fingers entangled in it most of the time. That's fucking creepy, Bishop. He remembered admonishing himself, but it didn't help.
None of it helped.
At least this time he was sure he didn't promise her anything. He was sure she knew this was a one-time thing. He didn't even know her name and she didn't know his.
No one needed to know.
She didn't need to know.
He got up, ignoring the pain in his head.
There were no more barks at his door but he felt so tense.
Would he see her there when he opened the door? Or did she leave, sending Karnwyr back to him?
He got dressed hastily, grabbing his pack with him.
He fully intended to pretend that this room and the woman within never existed; he only hoped she would give him the same courtesy.
He snuck out finally and closed the door behind him quietly, looking over the common room.
His eyes finally rested on the Bosmer in the corner, the relief in them palpable – luckily she was too far to see his expression. He still didn't know how this was gonna go.
Aeyrin got the urge to greet him with a smile, but the memory of his words quickly replaced it. She wasn't even sure what she came to say.
She was hurt, but grateful at the same time.
She didn't want to part ways, not when it became so obvious that Bishop cared about her. She still couldn't fathom why he would trust her with Karnwyr after he blamed her for what happened at the skooma den. If nothing else, she was hoping they could finally talk. Honestly, for a change, without either of them running from difficult topics.
She watched as Bishop set beside her, his face showing no emotion. She hoped that hers mirrored his, but she wasn't sure she was even capable of that.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence until she finally decided to start.
"Thank you… for leaving Karnwyr with me… I didn't expect that…" she played with her fingers nervously, hoping it was enough for him to start talking, and maybe explain what he was thinking.
"Yeah, well… someone needed to look out for you, before the old fossils sank their claws back in," he snorted derisively, obviously still bitter about what happened – or maybe it was just his usual prideful pretense. She knew that all too well.
"Why did you…" she took a deep breath before continuing, "Why did you say those things?" There was still hurt in her eyes despite of her attempts to hide it. She couldn't shake it, even though rationally, she knew he wouldn't blame her for her chase after the dealers. If he did, he wouldn't have shut up about it.
But it still hurt to hear.
Because he was right – it wouldn't have hurt otherwise. He maybe even did her a favor by saying it out loud. She recklessly endangered those she cared about because of past slights she was never able to let go of. Know the truth. It helped – without knowing her mistakes; she would never be able to avoid them in the future.
Bishop stared at her for a while, likely wondering how to respond, then he shook his head exasperatedly. "Ladyship, did you not see yourself while we were there? It was like watching a ghost. At least…" he sighed. "At least you stood up for yourself to me."
Aeyrin narrowed her eyes at him, his intention finally clear to her. At one point she felt like hugging him and thanking him, but she refused to let him off that easy after hurting her.
"So what? You goaded me? Prodded for a reaction?"
Instead of explaining himself further he smirked at her, his confident attitude etched back on his face.
Did he notice that she was no longer angry? She was such a bad actress. She wanted him to look apologetic at least a little longer. His smirk pissed her off.
"You're here soon," he smirked at her, but she noticed a hint of genuine warm smile behind his expression. "What happened with the geezers?"
Dammit, bad question. It practically admitted that he was right to do that. It made her even angrier. How could that man make her so happy and angry at the same time?
No, he was not going to win this.
She would get an apology from him.
"Did you mean it?" she asked quietly, ignoring his question. She tried to sound as sad as possible, but it was hard. She knew he didn't mean it. He was right, but he didn't mean to put the blame on her, even if he perhaps should have.
She expected another smug smirk, perhaps Bishop laughing at her attempt at manipulation or him pointing out arrogantly that she already knew the answer.
Instead she startled as he suddenly took her hand in his, his face surprisingly gentle and sincere as he spoke slowly: "It wasn't your fault. We both agreed to go there and we both knew the risks. It could have happened anywhere."
She wondered for a while if he was saying that to set the record straight, or whether he thought she needed to hear that. In the end it didn't matter. She already promised herself she would be more careful with her skooma obsession, but hearing those words still eased her mind.
Suddenly tired of playing games, she moved closer to him, her face flushing as if on command as she quickly pressed her lips against his, locking her hands behind his neck.
Bishop responded eagerly pulling her even closer, one hand on her lower back and the second entwined in her hair, thinking briefly on how different it felt from last night, but admonishing himself quickly.
They got lost in the dizzying kiss for quite a while. Bishop's tongue probed her mouth eagerly, at times withdrawing only for him to lightly bite into her lower lip with his teeth.
Aeyrin's hands wandered to his short hair, grabbing at it with insistence that surprised even her.
His lips moved slowly and teasingly across her cheek towards her ear when a sound of opening door at the other side of the room made her open her eyes instinctively.
Bishop felt her pull back with a sudden start.
He opened his eyes to see her looking across his shoulder, then back at him.
He didn't need to turn around to know what, or rather who, she saw.
This time there was no anger in her eyes, no glint, no fire… only hurt.
Telling her that he was drunk or that it didn't mean anything seemed like the most pathetic thing he could do, besides she probably knew. It's not like he didn't smell as if he bathed in mead the previous night and the black eye likely spoke for itself.
He didn't even spare the girl leaving his room a glance as the telling opening of the tavern door signaled her departure.
He didn't say a word.
Somehow anything seemed like either a cheap excuse or something that would hurt her even more.
Aeyrin was surprised how little anger she felt at the situation.
Would she even have a right to be angry?
Bishop never made her any promises to stay away from other women. She even sent him away the day before; he could have thought they would not see each other again.
But seeing her leaving his room suddenly… it felt too painful.
Did he think they would not return to their previous intimacy? Or was this normal for him? Would he have spent the night with that woman even if they would have been together at that time? He said he would wait for her to be ready… is this what he meant? That he would seek his pleasure elsewhere until she relented?
And why did he kiss her just now, while the girl was still in his room?
No matter how she looked at it, it became increasingly obvious to her that they would never see their closeness in the same way.
Everything they did together, it must have been so trivial to him. She found herself wondering if he ascribed any meaning to their intimacy at all. She knew he liked her, but she only derived that from their friendship.
Rationally, she knew that all that flirting and his constant comments were probably something he did out of habit, rather than genuine affection, but there was still some part of her that hoped that she was somehow special to him, like he was to her.
The silence was excruciating.
She felt like crying but refused to show her hurt so openly to him. She could never treat their relationship casually. It would be easier for her if it stopped.
She forced a weak smile on her face looking him in the eyes determinedly: "Did you want to wash up or eat here? If not, I was hoping we could get back on the road."
She was looking forward to a lunch that consisted of more than stale bread but suddenly she lost all her appetite.
Bishop nodded slowly, searching her face warily, but she willed herself to keep her smile up.
He stood up from the table heading towards the baths, suddenly needing to get away from the tension between them.
He was so preoccupied wondering how to fix this that he almost forgot where he was headed. His thoughts were alternating between a panicked realization that he probably fucked up their relationship with a drunken one night stand and outrage at the fact that this should change things. It's not like they were committed to each other.
He could do whatever he wanted.
He could do whatever he wanted – and he chose this.
He chose this… even though he knew it would hurt her.