Chapter 4

The local village offered very little in the way of bedding, but Amanis was able to procure another blanket and some lovely Khajiiti pillows. He knew he could make do with that. As he rode onward to Woodhearth, he dwelt on Inuel's current despair. He felt so helpless, which had its own irony to it, when he considered.

The "town" was really just another, slightly-larger village, with some Altmer nonsense jammed in the middle. Fetching colonizers.

The Bosmeri tree-buildings were larger, here, built into old-growth trees rather than in pod-form. There was, indeed, a tavern, and they did offer alcohol that was not meat-based. With this information he rushed to his guar. He knew just the thing to lift her spirits.

Bursting through the bone-gate, Amanis shouted into the courtyard.

"Innie! Get your nice leathers on! I'm taking you out on the town!"

He froze in the doorway to the kitchen, seeing a rather large and imposing reddish Argonian. She was sitting at the table with Inuel, whose eyes were still red from crying.

The Argonian was glaring at him, he thought. It was honestly hard to tell; most of them appeared to glare constantly.

"Want me to throw him out, beeko?" she growled.

Inuel sniffed, wiping at her face. "That won't be necessary. Thank you, Xuniarr, I'm actually feeling much better." She rose from her seat, Xuniarr (apparently) following suit. The two women hugged, and then the Argonian stepped past Amanis, tail lashing.

"I'll see you on market day, then," she said, pausing on the path and looking back.

"Yes, bright and early. Stay safe."

Xuniarr scoffed. "Don't worry about me…" she looked pointedly at the Dunmer.

Inuel shook her head discreetly, and the women smiled at one another. The Argonian left through the gate.

Well, that was interesting, but there wasn't time to address it. Amanis shook his head as if pestered by a fly.

"Innie! Come with me. I'm not giving you an option."

She sighed, looking at him with a sarcastic eyebrow raised.

"I mean it!" He doubled down, setting fists on his hips.

Inuel sighed again, looking around the kitchen as if searching for some reason to turn him down. She stood.

"Where are we going?"


Inuel had carefully done her fawn-colored hair, silky straight and combed back, with a lattice of small braids over top, turning her scalp into a domed trellis. She had changed into her favorite blue and pale green dress of Dunmer make, even taking a moment to magically alter her usual wood-grain tattoo to a delicate swirling gold pattern. She completed the ensemble with a pointed hat- to show her Mystic status- jaunty yellow feather stuck in the band.

She paused for a moment in front of her full-length mirror, examining herself for anything out of place. She did a little twirl. She never dressed up anymore.

So why now?

She stared at herself, hard. The window over her decolletage may have been a bit… inappropriate? But how else could she show off the pretty gold filigree on her skin? The sleeves and the skirt were both long and prim. The collar almost touched her chin, for goodness sake. A small amount of revealed flesh wasn't so scandalous, after all.

Amanis had a different impression.

When she emerged from the doorway, he was stricken dumb. He'd never seen her like this; in fact, she looked like a completely different person. He knew the girl with messy hair, wearing either Ashlander or deep-woods Bosmeri garb, usually tattered, always with stains from garden soil or gear grease somewhere in evidence. This, though.

She looked like a woman.

He swallowed hard, grateful he had worn his dress pants, the baggy Dunmer variety that revealed nothing.

"Yeah, that'll do. Too late to fix it now, anyway. You bloody took forever."

He cleared his throat, making a show of putting out his arm for her to take. She laughed, playing along, curtsying and resting her arm in his with exaggerated grace.

He walked her to the open gate and his waiting guar. She laughed again.

Amanis pulled his arm from hers, faking great offense.

"M'lady, you disapprove of my noble steed?"

She shook her head, a hand delicately to her mouth. "Nay, good sir. But I will require assistance in mounting such a noble beast, as my skirts are a fetching nightmare to move in."

He assumed position before the saddle, hands in the form of a stirrup. She placed a hand on his shoulder, stepping on the makeshift step, and swung the other leg over.

"Oh, no sidesaddle? And 'ere I was thinkin' you was a proper lady."

She grinned over her shoulder at him, giving him a rude gesture.

He grinned back, swinging on behind her.

The guar took a relaxed gait, its riders swaying with every step. The sun was setting over the Moors, painting the sky in brilliant shades. Amanis's arms rested on either side of Inuel, though he needed only one hand to take the reins. She took his free arm, tucking it around her middle.

"Just don't want to fall off," she explained.

"Understandable."

He hoped she couldn't feel his heart pounding as she rested against his chest.

They reached Woodhearth just as the sun was beginning to drop behind the horizon.

"A tavern?"

Inuel let herself off the guar, not bothering to wait for assistance.

"I got dressed up… so you could take me to a tavern?"

Amanis sighed heavily as he hopped down, himself.

"You live around here, what were you expecting? There's literally nothing better within riding distance."

She gave him a flat look. He rolled his red eyes.

"Look, next time I'll take you to fetching Summerset, if you like. This is what I can afford at the moment."

Inuel folded her arms, relenting with a nod. She allowed him to escort her inside.

The tavern wasn't very busy. Besides two Altmer soldiers, they were the only patrons.

A single, bored Bosmer bard played a lute in the corner, not bothering to sing. She paused between songs to take a long swig from a flagon as the siblings sat at the same side of an empty table. As with all Bosmeri taverns, there was no bar. Just a keeper of spirits who brought meat and drinks to the tables.

The keeper also appeared lackluster as he took their order. Amanis, knowing a little about Altmer drinks, asked for two tumblers of Isquelian Brandy. Inuel asked for whatever meat was fresh and roasted. Amanis shook his head at her, rolling his eyes.

"What? I'm hungry, and I don't like to cook. If it's about money, I'll pay for it."

"No, no," he replied, "Drinks are first, then meat. In addition, I just thought I'd be the one ordering. That is, if you want a proper date."

"Oh, it's a date?" She raised one brow, grinning.

"Not a proper one, not anymore."

They laughed together, and it was an easy, comfortable sensation. It was like they were kids again, making sport of civilized grown-up customs.

Their drinks arrived, and Inuel brushed tears of mirth from her eye before raising her clay cup.

"To being proper," she toasted.

He tapped his cup to hers, and they both drank.

They chatted happily, side by side, eating little and drinking much. Neither noticed the glares they were receiving from the Altmer soldiers across the room. In fact, the two were so absorbed in animated conversation that they didn't notice the soldier until he was next to their table.

"You, there, burnt elf."

Inuel grinned, retorting, "Who, me? Oh, don't worry, it was a welding accident, but thank you for your concern."

Amanis spat some of his drink, and they both burst into guffaws. The guard looked insensed, but smoothed his brow and focused on Inuel.

"No, not you, him. What are you doing with him, anyway? You're quite fetching for a Bosmer. Were it not for the antlers, I'd have mistaken you for a proper Altmer lady."

She raised her own brows, sitting back. "Why, that would be high praise, if I liked Altmer. At all."

Amanis sniggered behind his cup.

The guard pounded a gauntleted fist on the table, glaring at the Dunmer.

"Your kind aren't welcome here."

Amanis started to stand, but Inuel put a hand on his arm.

"You will have to take that up with the tavern's owner, then. It seems he let us in and served us as if that statement were not true."

They exchanged stubborn glares for a moment.

"How could you sully yourself with such… filth?" the high elf spat, nodding toward Amanis.

Inuel grinned defiantly, then turned to Amanis, taking his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply.

The Dunmer, too stunned to protest, allowed it. When she pulled away, he couldn't stop himself from moving in for another, longer kiss. She couldn't hold back the moan in her throat as he dragged his tongue across her own.

The guard scoffed in disgust, and stormed away.

The kiss continued long after the point where it should have ended. The two drew away, looking at each other in subdued shock.

"Well…" Inuel began, "it seems I've had enough brandy…"

"Yes, I believe I'm half in the bag, myself," Amanis chuckled. "But didn't we show that codpiece a thing or two?"

They laughed together again, but it felt forced. When the laughter stopped, all that was left was tension. They both found their glances returning to the other's lips.

Amanis called for the bill.


After they returned home, the Dunmer was left in the kitchen to change for bed. The drink hadn't been strong enough for all that. He had slipped. He couldn't let it happen again.

He came to his bedroll when called, vowing not to speak until he was more sober in the morning.

He found it difficult to sleep. He kept reliving the kiss, the way she had moaned, even if slightly… She was just there, not even a foot away, and she had kissed him. So brazenly. The kiss was genuine, not put on for show. She didn't have to open her mouth like that…

"'Mani?" Inuel whispered from her hammock. He jolted a bit guiltily.

"Mmm?"

There was a long pause. He thought she might have fallen asleep.

"I don't want to be alone."

His heart hammered in his ears, he swallowed, responded.

"Well, you're not alone, silly. I'm right here."

"No…" she sighed. After another pause, "I don't want to sleep alone."

Amanis's stomach flipped.

He got up, stepping carefully in the dark, gripping a pillow. Carefully, he climbed in behind her, discreetly placing the pillow over his erection before settling down.

"Would… would it make you uncomfortable… could you hold me?" Her voice was small and timid, like it was when she was a child.

He obliged, however, draping an arm over her and squeezing her briefly. She sighed happily, pressing back against him.

"Thank you."

He kissed the back of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. She smelled like wildflowers and fresh sap. She smelled like spring.

They drifted off, both full of longing, a barrier still between them.