Hopefully you'll enjoy!
Morgene loves games. Of course she does, who doesn't? Games are fun, surprising and most of all, unmasking! It tells a lot of people how they react whatever they're loosing, winning, scheming or blindly acting. The Breton remembers when this one time, she, Festus Krex, Babette, Arnbjorn and Veezara played a game. She also wanted Lis to play, but Gabriella wouldn't let the spider join...
The game was about who can carry an egg, on a spoon, from one side of the room to the other. It was so much fun.
Right at the start Arnbjorn just popped the raw chicken egg into his hungry mouth and threw his spoon. Veezara took the slow and steady approach, while Babette used some vampiric magic. Which Festus noticed right away, the two oldest members then arguing. Morgene? She looked at the chaos happily, before egging on Festus to throw some destruction magic. Which sent everyone's eggs flying! Veezara became pissed and the Argonian, the Elder and the vampire fought till Astrid with her husband came between. The sanctuary smelled like smoked, rotten eggs for days. Such a fun family game night that had been!
The Breton giggled at the happy memory.
Now she and Maul shuffled parts of the deck which Vekel the man had brought. She was sure this would be lots of fun and also revealing. The game of deception and chance includes a lot of factors to keep your mind at. Like probabilities, observation and analyzing. And of course demanding skills of speech, sleight of hand and deception. The assassin didn't expect an honest duel, not in the den of thieves where you could loose your gold and pants in a handshake. She couldn't afford to loose her armor though, it was very expensive to get a new one. Nazir is such a greedy giant lichen about money... But a great cook!
"So, just cards. No weapons, no magic," Maul finished mixing up his share of the stack, placing it at the middle of the table. He still had a smug grin on his bearded face: "And no crying."
Also finishing Morgene added and mixed hers into the deck. They both had now shuffled the cards, for fairness. Though during the shuffling you may slip couple of good cards into your sleeves, or maybe leave marks on some cards. The real rule here being, that do not get caught.
"You're smiling," Morgene hummed happily, even as the Nord's grin faltered. It returned when she asked: "Feels like you are confident to win?"
The raven-haired man shrugged and leaned against the table with his arm: "Let's say there ain't many in Riften, who can beat me."
"That's good to hear," the redhead took the deck and started dealing, they both eyeing each other. Tension of a challenge rippling between them in the air.
She really liked this Maul guy. He was firm and sturdy, in body and spirit. She was curious to keep poking the hound, see would under the teeth and barking be something bit more... Fluffier. The exterior told enough about the Nord man: long, crooked nose. Faint scars on his face. Greenish, mossy eyes with clever gleam. High cheekbones and wide jaw, nicely fitting to his tall and strong body which moved like a sabre cat. He was a big guy who could move quickly. He took care of himself, had his long hair in neat ponytail and he didn't smell bad. He had some redness around his eyes, probably left by some disease.
All in all, he was someone who could physically take care of himself and others.
Morgene wanted a man, that fit her mothers' examples: able-bodied but not an oaf. Vicious protector, but plentiful lover. Attractive enough, loyal more.
Now she just needed to know what kind of person Maul was, if they fit together. It was rather easy to find strong men in Skyrim, she had noted. But none had yet been strong enough where it was needed.
"Maybe you'll give enough of challenge then," she added and gave her own confident expression, finishing sharing cards.
"Enough and more," Maul said with cunningness and took his cards.
The game started, between the thief and the assassin, the hound and the fox. First they both played it with experimental attitude, testing their opponents strengths and weakness. How well the other could read you, what telltale signs they had.
"Two maces."
"Luckily I got a nice sword here."
"...You put it picture up, dummy. And that's an axe."
"Oops, clumsy me. But still wins. And hey, only one of yours was a mace!"
"Don't look at the cards! You already accepted my bullshit."
When almost half the deck had been played, things started to be a bit more serious and intoxicated. Nothing better to lube your wits with than some mead. And loosen up your tongue to banter the opponent.
"Honningbrew mead is overly sweet... Like, forest of beehives dunked into a barrel... Think bees can be ghosts?"
"No, and I know what're you doin'. It ain't working."
"...It's not very encouraging that you don't drink this stuff."
"And yet you keep having it."
"Hihi, hey, Maul. If there's a Dragonborn, could there be a... Beeborn?"
"Shut up about the bees already."
"Why? I feel bad for them."
"Of some insects?"
"What? Don't you ever feel pity towards, like, butterflies or spiders?"
"If a spider gets into my room, it can only blame itself when I smash it."
"And butterflies?"
"Same thing."
"Territorial..."
"You gonna loose this game."
"How so, sweet Maul?"
"Hmp, I know your telltale sings."
"Oh, mean how I've been checking Rune's elbows?"
"What?"
"I bet he can break ironwood nuts with those... I like them roasted. Also, watch, I have four lords!"
Briefing between Brynjolf and Mercer Frey had been a long one. They had discussed about the lead which Morgene had given, the Goldenglow Bill of Sale. It had included some familiar names, but had not given the one they needed: the one behind it all. Because it was clear from the bill, that this wasn't sabotage towards Black-Briars. This had been done to harm the Thieves Guild. Realizing this had angered and worried the two men, they planning their next move against this sudden, invisible enemy. Someone needed to go fine the Argonian, Gulum-Ei, in Solitude and have a talk with the walking leather boot.
The redheaded Breton left the Cistern with sour mood, planning to go and spent rest of the night at the Ragged Flagon. Then in the morning decide who to sent to Solitude. Maybe Vex, she could shake that lizard to spill the beans. Though Gulum-Ei wasn't brave to begin with. So guess either Niruin or Cynric Endell would be enough. They both could be discreet, quick and clean about it, avoiding unnecessary risks.
The guild was really taking it from behind nowadays, no break from constant bad luck... Heh, he was starting to sound like old Delvin. It wasn't that bad, they were still a guild! And after they take care of this little problem, they can focus on to work and strengthen their hold in Riften, then the rest of the Skyrim.
Rubbing his temple the thief stepped into the tavern and noticed something. Maul and the assassin were still on it. Though not playing cards, but... Slapping each other's hands? He walked to the bar, sitting next to Delvin and Niruin. Vekel was cleaning up and ready to close the tavern for the night. But there was always time to serve one last drink for one of his best customers.
"What's happening here," Brynjolf asked, staring with others as Maul went to slap the woman's hands. She yelped and shook them, the Nord laughing and presenting his hands for her next.
"They're playing Slap," Niruin explained, shaking his head: "Such a simpleton game."
"And how did they end up playing that?"
"You know, it's kinda funny," Delvin mused and took a drink, finishing: "We actually don't remember."
The older thief with shaven head recalled the two over there playing the card game normally. With some bantering and what not, ordering drinks at the side. Normal. Then they had played through the deck, with last cards in their hands. But either Maul, or Morgene the assassin, had noticed the other one had cheated...
"Hey that's mine!"
"What is?"
"That card you're holding, it's mine!"
"Really? And where you had this card? Not in your hand."
And to settle that, the two had played one other game. Which lead to another, and Morgene maybe ordered drinks for everyone at one point... Then some other game... And maybe another. Now, they played Slap. Not sure anymore why though.
Maul pulled his hands away in time, Morgene hitting only air. Cursing the woman snarled and coughed: "Best out of ten!"
"Come on," the Nord groaned and rolled his shoulders: "You ain't faster than me, deal with it."
"Yet took you down this morning," she argued and stretched her legs on another chair, both of them gotten comfortable at their table. She had taken off her cloak and he the upper part of his steel armor, wearing a greyish shirt under it.
"I went easy on you," he grunt yet continued the game with her.
"Then don't go easy on me now."
There were empty bottles and couple of plates among the cards, Vekel not wanting to go clean and get mixed into their thing. The Nord and the Breton had already made Delvin to judge one of their games. What was it? Game of Shipwreck? He had to decide, which one had the more working plan: either use a dead log from deserted island to get away, or befriend the ghosts of the people died in that island. Then use the ghosts to- It was a weird argument. Maul saying that they hadn't agreed, that there were ghosts in that island. Only a dead log, stones and some things left by previous survivors.
Delvin had decided Maul's plan was the right one and walked away.
Brynjolf wasn't sure should he be impressed or concerned for Maul continuing this tomfoolery with the woman. Delvin shrugged at that worry.
"Nah. She doesn't seem like stabby-happy crazy. Just likes games it seems. Nothing bad at that, if they just stop at some point."
Maul tried to keep focusing to win the wheezing, giggling silly vixen. She was such annoying one, making him want to wipe that stupid grin of hers and make her... Her... Something else. The Nord maybe was just a bit tipsy, or just tired. He needed to finish this game and get to bed, sleep his head straight.
"Okay, that's enough of playing around," he grunt and took his cards back in hand, after not touching them for so long. "Time to get me that prize."
And the prize was... Something. Something honey- The Bee Statue, yeah yeah, it was still standing on the table. He was gonna win that and give it to Maven! That bitch would be happy and stop snapping at him over nothing.
"Fine," Morgene yawned, picking up her cards and looked at them for a moment. The two players were quiet a bit longer, until one of them wondered out loud.
"Who's turn is it?"
"How should I remember? Me now, I guess."
"No, you aren't goin' to cheat this time."
"Cheat? Never cheated. And I remember, that you played last time. My turn."
"Yeah? What card did I play then?"
They glared at each other over their hands, neither wanting to end in a situation were the other gets a favorable position. Which meant, that no-one looked at the card played last time.
"Coin toss?"
"This feels familiar..."
They called Brynjolf to toss a septim and solve this problem. The thief, shaking his head, did a small, unnoticeable trick while slapping hand on the landing coin. It landed in Maul's favor.
The Nord laughed, playing a card: "One king."
And it wasn't a lie, she knew it. He was left with one more card in his hand. Morgene in other hand, she had so many that she could fan herself with them. It was a sure victory, Maul just needing to play maybe one or two more rounds. Then he'd go sleep with the reward under his arm.
The woman looked at the card he had played, frustrated look on her face as she kept glancing to her fan of cards. Rubbing her neck and licking her lips.
Chuckling, satisfied to make her finally stop from smirking, the Nord reached for the statue: "It was fun, Morgene."
The Breton grasped the statue as he was pulling it to him: "Who said you won, Maul?" The woman sneered: "Watch."
And he watched, his wrinkled forehead smoothening more and more with every card she put on the stack.
"You see, I got here... You put a king, right? So, I put on it three kings. You can check, if you want. So, the deck falls. And I play again. Which is... A mage, deck falls again, I play. And another mage. Then, oh, four thanes. Deck falls."
And she played like that, either with a mage or four cards of something. Maul stared, dumbfounded. He wasn't the only one. The others at the bar snickered as Morgene kept playing until her last card. Throwing it with picture upside for him.
"And lastly but not least, one mace." Her hand was empty.
The Breton stood up, her arms raised and made a little twirl: "And Riften has a new champion of cards!"
Others clapped and laughed, then raised their mugs as she declared serving one more round for everyone. Vekel sighed, wanting to go to sleep but not turning down the gold. The woman danced more around the table, saying something about Dark Brotherhood ruling and so on. She was snatched by her waist and pulled onto Maul's lap, she staring with surprise at his glowering face. The thieves at the bar tensed, looking closely.
"You tricked," Maul accused, thinking hard: "You did somethin' and fucking tricked me."
Morgene got comfortable on his lap, leaning against him and in friendly voice spoke: "I just figured out your telltales."
He chuckled deeply, trying to understand when she knew to pull what she did. She couldn't had planned from very far. She couldn't had counted the cards, too many lies mixing up the numbers. She couldn't had done anything without him seeing it.
"You dirty little Breton," he gave a sharp, toothy smile. Hand on her hip tightening its hold, she not flinching at his rising bitterness: "You used magic."
"Nope," she lifted and dropped her shoulders, opening her mouth but he grasped her chin.
"You did," he underlined, hearing Brynjolf's tone. "Maul." It was warning, worried and telling to drop it.
A sudden wet, warm feeling against his palm made him let go. She had licked him, moving her jaw tenderly when freed.
"I promise on mine and my parents' graves," she whispers to him, breath tickling his throat and jaw. Crazy words, crazy bitch. Her breath smells like honey, mead, cooked chicken and potatoes. She ate with care and enjoinment, licking her lips for any last taste. Looking under from her browns, the gaze not chilling anymore. Warm, hungry, eating him. He shivers and feels like this morning, wanting to attack her, make her submit before she did something to him.
"I didn't use magic."
Morgene feels so light, so free and so alive. So good. She wants to stay there, sit on Maul's lap. Feel his strong, quickening heartbeat through fabric, skin, muscle and bone. She wants to feel everything of him, under him, above him, inside her. Play another kind of game till she's more part of him than herself. Touch that long hair of his and make him more purr than growl when she pulls it. Feel his beard rub against her skin, leave red burning marks. Look at her with his eyes full of raw emotions and make her drunk by his spirit.
"Liar," he says more calmly yet still tensely, not letting her go and she not leaving him.
The thief and the assassin attack each other. With lips and teeth, tongue and mouth. A drunken, taking and demanding kiss with pulling hands. Everything else is forgotten, when she gets up and he stands up, both leading and following. It's clear what they're going to do, as Maul leads the way with arm over her shoulder, keeping her close and both of them touching and groping.
"Watch the hands!" Delvin gives the warning, before the two disappear into the tunnel towards the Cistern. Brynjolf, in his hand rolling bottle of mead, shakes his head in disbelief and wishes good luck with the she-fox.
Despite he hadn't slept here for awhile, Maul still knows the dark den of thieves like the back of his palms. He slips the Breton woman with him past the sleeping ones and they end into the training room. Far enough, enough privacy and no-one complaining of the sounds. Pile of dusty hay with worn deer pelt is enough. He pushes her down there, starts taking off her armor. Or he tries to. Guild armor has many buckles and belts too, but his nimble fingers are unfamiliar with the brotherhood's one. He curses, yanking and she giggles, catching his hands.
"Let me," she says in hoarse voice, leads him to stand on hands and knees over her. In the dark, the hound listens with excitement as armor is undone.
When Morgene gets the upper armor piece off, he goes to her shirt to tug it off. They both laugh quietly, panting, as they start work both of them off their things. Teasing touches, marking imprints and tasting bites. Till he's only wearing loincloth and she cotton pants, the necklace and simple bra. Then she flips them, thighs against his sides, mouth on his as she moans and feels the beard against her chin.
"Enough teasing," Maul orders and his fingers slip under her waistband. "Time to pay for all the trouble you gave."
He hadn't need to work for a quick fuck like this... For a long time. Whores take the pay, flip their dress and bent. Maybe tease if he's in good mood, wash him dutifully and that's it.
Morgene doesn't give any witty remarks back, she can't. All day talking, singing, sounding. It hurts her throat, prickly burning now and then, making her cough and wheeze. If she would just shut up, she wouldn't suffer so but she decides not. She would make the sounds of living till her throat would give up. All that mead, all that honey helps however, gives a thin layer of smoothness and she can focus more into enjoinment as she plays with Maul. She knows and feels what he needs, what she wants. The Breton starts working her lower part bare, as the Nord keeps holding onto her wide hips.
While focusing onto that for a moment, she starts hearing deep breathing, snoring.
In confusion she lifts her gaze and listens, then she's shocked. He's sleeping, Maul has fallen asleep, still holding onto her. Blinking Morgene straightens up on him, in the dark, and waits for a moment. Even moves a bit to test him. Nothing, he's truly asleep. Realizing this she hardly contains the laughter and coughing as her body trembles from amusement. Then, feeling his body relaxing, his hands sliding against her sides, tiredness lays onto her too.
Putting shirt back on, placing thin felt over them, Morgene settles tightly against Maul's side. Nuzzles against his chest, ear above his heart, her hand gently grasping onto his chest hair and her leg slipping between his. It is warm, soothing and nice. In the cold, stony and smelly place under the city.
She likes Maul, the taste of him, the feeling and sound of his. She hopes this one would be something more. But for now, she happily settles for this moment of simple happiness. Falling asleep with a smile on her lips.
It is too tight. The rope is too tight, its coarseness pressing against her throat, threatening just like everything else around. Her legs tremble and knees buckle but she can't fall, no no the rope! She tries breathing, deep and calm, just like she has been taught. But the rope, the noises around, the smells and everything is too much to stay calm!
"She's just a child!" someone screams, desperate and in pain. Another voice telling to let her go at least, at least her.
Laughing, mocking, spiting. Everyone, they say. Everyone. Even her.
A crack, a yank, at the same time. Squeaking, cheering. She stares but doesn't see the figure. Blurry colors, salty lines on her face. Her feet stumble and she feels the edge, quickly fixing her stand.
Everyone. Even her. Nothingness.
Morgene wakes up, feeling heavy tears and drumming heart. She swallows, sniffles and stays still. Feel of absurdity of who she is, where she is. The darkness threatens to swallow her with growing terror.
Something moves against her, on her, weight pressing her escaping spirit back into the shell of hers. It something mumbles and snores, sleepily and quietly. Arms wrapped around her middle tightening, face nuzzling against her chest. Another living and breathing being. He holding onto her. Keeping her here, with him as he finds comfort from her. Sighing the Breton lifts hand to the man's neck, fingers caressing there. Take hold of the leather band holding Maul's hair and pull it off.
She turns more onto her side, the sleeping Nord settling with her. He holds onto her, possessively and confidently. She feels relief and concentration.
Fingers comb through the long black hair, ears listening the deep breathing and body feeling the hold and the warmth. Other hand grasps onto the black gem, the leather string still around her scarred throat. She's alive, she's here. He's alive, he's here. Everything is okay, safe and here.
Memory of his taste fills her with soft fluttering.