Exams are coming up. I'll update when I can. Morrowind belongs to Bethesda and as for Winterbell, I've disowned her. -D

"I have something for you," Winterbell grinned when they arrived back at Arvs Drelen.
Baladas raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"
Winterbell fished through her bag and tossed Baladas the ring.
"Ah, Mezalf's ring," he said, pleased. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten it again."
"You thought I'd forget it twice?" Winterbell asked indignantly.
He chuckled as he walked past her to put the ring on his desk, "I wouldn't put anything past you, Winterbell."
"Is that a compliment or not?" she asked rhetorically.
"You're fishing for compliments now?" He stepped up behind her, "I think I have something you'll like much better."
"Really?"
"Close your eyes."

Winterbell looked at him warily for a moment then folded her arms and shut her eyes. Baladas put a hand on her shoulder and guided her across the room.
"You've done some useful chores for me, and I haven't really rewarded you."
"I think you've done enough to make us even."
"Now, don't be ungracious. Just stand right…there for a moment please."
"What are you doing?" Winterbell felt him move away.
"Just a moment – there, all yours."
Winterbell opened her eyes.

"Uhh, Baladas, I've already seen this." Three feet in front of her was the Dwemmer centurion, steam jetting from its joints.
He shook his head, "I know that, Winterbell. My point is that it's yours now. It will serve you well, and no one else."
"Mine?" Winterbell looked at the construction with new eyes. "Wow," she breathed.

She walked a few steps and the construct followed her, its green optic sensor fixed unwaveringly on her.
"Fold down!" she ordered. It did nothing.
Baladas laughed, "You'll have to use the standard commands. Here," he handed her a sheaf of papers, "that's the manual."
"Stand by."
"Attention."
"Stay."
"Protect."

Baladas perched on the arm of a chair and watched Winterbell play with her new toy, a pleased grin on his face. Zergonipal was dreadfully curious, but had been ordered long ago not to touch the centurion, and so contented himself with sidling up to the construct and then leaping away again when it hissed.

"So you like it?" he asked when Winterbell eventually ordered the machine to fold itself away.
"Of course I do!" Winterbell still looked rather stunned. "But how do I keep it in one piece?"
"Well, theoretically," Baladas stood and wandered over to her, "healing magic should work. I mean, they are magical constructs. Although I must confess I got it working more by trial and error; I could be completely wrong."
Winterbell turned back to the now-inert metal ball, "Hmm…maybe I should just keep it as a butler or something…it's not as if I need its help. Does it do dishes?"
"Uhh…" Baladas was nonplussed. "If they're extraordinarily sturdy dishes, I suppose."
"And where am I going to keep it? I might have to shift those urns into the other corner…"
"Look, if you don't want it I'll take it back!" He reached forward and made a grab for the manual.

"No!" Winterbell protested and hugged the papers against her chest. Baladas laughed and tried to prize her fingers from around them.
"You can't do this," Winterbell gasped with mixed indignation and laughter.
"Can't I?" Winterbell inhaled sharply and stopped dead still when she felt his lips on her neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a sharp tone. He didn't resist when she ducked away from him and regarded him warily.
He folded his arms and grinned at her knowingly, "Oh come on, Winterbell. I think you know how you're acting. And I find it hard to believe that the opinion of some boyish fop could unhinge you to the extent that you don't know what you're doing."
Winterbell raised an eyebrow, "And what exactly am I doing?"
"You are…approaching me with a certain uncharacteristic abandon," his voice lowered, "and I'm not complaining."
All trace of good humour had left Winterbell's expression, "Hmm…" She eyed him thoughtfully.
"There you go again with that odd expression." He laughed again, "You're either planning to kill me or undressing me mentally."

And you're irritating me again, Baladas, she thought. That's a shame, because your Dwemmer toy nearly distracted me, and you all might have got away from me in one piece. Out loud she said,
"Care to find out?"

His eyes widened in surprise as she grabbed him by the collar of his linen shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

"That was…unexpected," Baladas said finally, running his hand through his hair. "But not unwelcome," he decided, as he regained his composure. "Although you seem to have lost your enthusiasm already."

"I don't think this is a good idea." Winterbell refused to meet his eyes.
"Oh, why?"
"I can't do this," she said, more to herself than to the wizard in front of her.
"And just what," steel entered his voice, "did you think you were doing? You see, Winterbell, I have the feeling you haven't been…entirely straightforward about your motives."
"I'm never straightforward about my motives," she declared. "That's the Telvanni way, isn't it?"
"Telvanni are always straightforward about their motives, because they only have two; knowledge and power. But you're playing a different game, I think."
"Oh really?" Winterbell smiled a sharp little smile, "I could say the same about you."
He raised an eyebrow, "Go ahead."
"Well," Winterbell's gaze flicked to the centurion briefly, "if that isn't a gift 'beyond magnificent' I don't know what is."
"Oh, so you think I'm using you to try and correct what was, quite frankly, a disastrous relationship with Drev?"
"You mean to say you're not?"

Winterbell jumped as Baladas slammed the palm of his hand in the wall above her head. His eyes glittered,
"Hasn't it occurred to you, Winterbell, that I might be intelligent enough to have observed some subtle difference between you and Drev? And despite the fact that news of her death was somewhat of a shock I am more than capable of moving on."
Winterbell looked up defiantly at him, "You could have fooled me."
"Apparently I did," he said with a trace of contemptuous amusement. "Which leads me to wonder, if you're so sure I was using you, why did you go along with it?"
She shrugged, "It's the Telvanni way, isn't it? Although I see I'll have to work on appearing oblivious."
"You'll have to work on your lying as well. I think I see what's going on here – it's quite charming really." He paused briefly to collect his thoughts, and Winterbell sensed that trying to argue or move away at this stage would not be wise.
"Here's this girl, and from where I'm standing you are just a girl, who gets angry because one of her playmates doesn't like her any more. And being the little ball of rage that she is, she decides to take it out on someone." He said all this is in a light, conversational tone, as Winterbell began to wish the floor would open up and swallow her.

"You disappoint me," he said in a somewhat harsher tone, "with just how much you have underestimated me. And I wonder who else you have underestimated, and what kind of trouble this will cause in the future."
"Stop being so melodramatic. Everything was fine until a few days ago."
He sighed, "You're young and inexperienced. I suppose something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, and you should be grateful that it was me you underestimated. I am on your side, remember?"
"You're a Telvanni; you're on your side," Winterbell replied flatly. "And I'm a bit old to be called young."
"Winterbell, when I called you friend I meant it. Yes, you're a little outclassed, but that doesn't mean I can't like you." He tilted her chin up with his finger, "Or more," he added.

"You just said you knew all this was to take out my anger on someone," Winterbell blustered. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I do so enjoy seeing you off-balance and out of your depth occasionally, Winterbell."
"I'll make a note of that," she growled.
He laughed, "You do that." He finally stepped away from her and Winterbell allowed herself to relax a bit.
"Now what?"
"You take the advice I handed to you last time you visited. You go and talk to the boy and you either kill him or convince him to remain on your side. And then, hopefully, I get my favourite back the way she was."
"Do you really think things will go back the way they were?"
"Between us? That is entirely for you to say." He swept into a bow that wasn't entirely mocking.

"I have to go." Winterbell walked over to the top of the stairs and picked up her bag. "Keep the centurion here for now, when I get my tower I'll install him in there. It should make an appropriately intimidating butler."
"Winterbell," he looked at her seriously, "Don't you ever try anything like this ever again. I mean it. Just remember to whom you owe your startling success." His tone slid his words along the knife-edge between advice and threat.
"I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten who I owe and what I owe, and I swear I will see all my debts settled."
"That sounds rather final. Are you planning on going somewhere without telling us, Winterbell?"
"Not yet."

Winterbell made her escape and recalled back to her house, feeling more humiliated than when she had been rejected by the Cyrodil Mage's Guild for the fifth and final time. She knew it could have gone a lot worse, and that she should be grateful for the fact that Baladas didn't take her seriously.

"Some Telvanni I turned out to be," she said morosely to herself. She should have known better than to try and fool Baladas, and Marayan. "I can't do this alone," she finally admitted. Things had to be sorted out before the Grand Council Meeting, she decided. She was getting sick of playing this game.

She knew she was incapable of killing Marayan; he hadn't done anything wrong, although as far as Winterbell was concerned she hadn't either. She couldn't kill him, but if she couldn't talk him around it would be a mistake to let him do as he pleased. Winterbell decided her options were limited to threatening other members of the Guild or Ilmeni, both of which presented further problems.

Winterbell was still considering which plan would be better when she recalled Marayan's diatribe on selfishness.

"What does he expect?" she snarled to the empty room, "It's not something I've been keeping secret. Although…" If she was truly selfish she wouldn't be in this mess, with Baladas or Marayan. She could have bluffed one and removed the other if she had been as ruthless as she told herself she was.

Baladas…could go rot, she decided. Whether or not he was bluffing about being so blasé about the whole matter was irrelevant. She now knew better than to try and second-guess the old wizard. When he had told the story of his exile Winterbell had believed he was trying to show he trusted her – now she was beginning to wonder how much of his version was true.

There was no doubt he liked her, but Winterbell felt she was a recipient of the same detached affection he showed Zergonipal. Maybe in a few centuries he'd consider her his equal. Winterbell was quite confident that she wouldn't last that long – no matter how much magic she absorbed.

Marayan had no axe to grind. If he got involved in this mess it would be for her sake alone, and Winterbell decided that an ally like that would be worth ten powerful mages with their own agenda. Besides, she was getting sick of that sad, hollow feeling she was starting to get whenever she thought of the younger mage.

There was nothing for it; she would have to talk to him. She would tell the truth, she decided, what there was of it that he didn't already know. She wouldn't make any threats either – she had to admit that she didn't think he'd be cowed by them. In the year she had known him the affable mage had changed into something else; something stronger and more relentless.

Baladas could swat her like a scrib, but Marayan possessed the kind of dogged determination that was all too easy to underestimate. Of all her mistakes, that was one that Winterbell vowed never to make again.

She shook the ash out of her hair and strode across town to the Eight Plates; half hoping Maryan wouldn't be in.