Gerda woke up and immediately wished she hadn't. Hadring 'cooked' again. Which meant he burned her fish to ashes and expected her to thank him for it. Damn it! She only caught the one.
Well, she'd have to either go and catch a new one, or risk it and swallow the burned mess.
Or she could get Balagog to make something for her. She grinned.
Luckily for her, she entered the common room at exactly the same moment as Balagog's cellar door opened. She took it as a sign of mercy from the Divines.
"Good morning," she greeted him with a smile. "Did you sleep well?" Gerda asked but then immediately blushed as she recalled her own dream. Thankfully Balagog seemed too preoccupied with looking at her 'breakfast' to notice.
"What… is that?" he asked, horrified.
"Proper Nord cooking, at least according to Hadring," Gerda replied dryly. "Did you not try it first, before you decided to make your own meals?"
Balagog looked at her, shocked, "No, I never tried it. I decided to cook for myself before I even arrived here."
Gerda couldn't help but tease him a bit, "So you must know how to cook really well. Men who know how to cook should be treasured," she grinned. Then she decided to turn an old cliché on its head - it seemed to fit their situation, "The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach."
And there it was – Balagog was blushing again. She was quickly becoming addicted to his blushes. She should stop doing this before it led to something neither of them was ready for right now.
She decided to get back on topic of her breakfast, "Please, don't leave me at the mercy of Hadring's cooking," Gerda begged, only partially in jest. If she had to eat burned fish and half-rotten-half-green potatoes one more time, she'd crack someone's skull. Most likely Hadring's.
Balagog hesitated, unsure if he should open up more than he already had. Strangely, it was Hadring himself that made up his mind for him, as he just entered the room, bearing an armful of blackish frozen carrots.
"I'll make some vegetable soup to go with the fish!" Hadring exclaimed with a wide grin as if he was chosen to cook for the Emperor himself.
Balagog took one look at Gerda's face and quickly turned away to hide his smile. His amusement faded, though, when she turned to him with a desperate, pleading look.
"I'm not certain I should," he tried to get away from her pleading looks, but couldn't think of a reason that would sound the slightest bit believable.
Gerda decided to push a little more. She laid a hand on his shoulder. Balagog tensed a bit and gave an inscrutable look out of the corner of his eyes. Time to open up a new Oblivion gate, Gerda thought as she said in a flirty voice, "I'd really like to taste something of yours."
Balagog's cheeks went completely dark. This was the strongest blush she saw on him yet. Even stronger than the one from yesterday.
Was that too much? That was her being subtle…
Well, they didn't call her Power Bash for nothing.
"I… very well, I'll make something for you," he seemed eager to put some distance between them. Or run away from her, Gerda couldn't tell which. But as she got a tasty meal out of it, she decided not to test her luck and withdrew her hand from his shoulder.
Yet in that moment, Gerda was struck with the absurdity of the situation. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she was watching an experienced warrior try to seduce a shy maiden.
Well, she might be an experienced warrior, sure, but Balagog as a blushing virgin? She threw a glance in his direction - he was still looking away and blushing. 'No, surely not...'
But the notion stuck.
Gerda was so deep in thought she barely noticed when he left to gather ingredients to prepare her breakfast. What shook her out of her thoughts was the smell.
She licked her lips and looked at him. Delicious.
She could get used to this.
-balablob-balablob-balablob-
- The next day-
"Then you add the… yes, like that. Now pick the spice and gently add a pinch. Yes, that should be enough," Balagog was a really good teacher.
Gerda had no idea her suggestion of sharing meals and cooking duties would end up like this.
She merely thought it would be nice to pay him back somehow for those meals she pushed him into preparing for her yesterday; she didn't expect cooking lessons out of it.
When she mentioned her skills were unfortunately little better than Hadring's, Balagog hesitated for a bit, then offered to teach her some basics.
Not that she complained about the lessons. Balagog was pleasant company even when he was trying to 'keep his privacy', but when he was in his element? Gerda couldn't get enough. She loved listening to that gentle, cultured growling. Encouragement never sounded better.
'Hah, if my mother ever tried to teach me this way, I might have listened,' Gerda thought as she stirred the soup.
"Thank you for this." She smiled over her shoulder at him; a smile he hesitantly returned. "You know, I never knew food can taste that good. It's a shame I never learned properly." Men might have noticed her then, before she became the Dragonborn, a hero and savior of the world. Where would she be now, had she chosen a different path all those years ago? Gerda frowned a bit in thought.
"You already took the first step, that is what's important." Balagog seemed intent on engouraging her, "Start here, and some day, you too can be a go... great cook," his smile turned a bit forced. This time Gerda had no idea what triggered his defensiveness. Did he almost let something slip again?
With a start, she realized she truly didn't care anymore. His company was more important than figuring out his secrets.
She smiled at him, "Thank you for these lessons. You know, if I continue like this, I might get to settle down one day." Her gaze turned distant, wondering if there will ever be a man to accept her adventuring nature; someone for her to come home to, instead of the other way around.
She looked back at Balagog. He was looking at her, not saying a thing. She couldn't figure out his expression.
He stepped back a bit. "Give it a few more minutes and it should be ready. You learn fast. We'll make a cook out of you yet." He seemed in a hurry to leave, but she had no idea why.
"I'll see you tonight, all right?" She called after him, hesitant.
He turned back to her and smiled, "If you wish."
-balablob-balablob-balablob-
The next few days passed in a similar fashion. Gerda and Balagog spent most of their time together, either in companionable silence or making small talk. And flirting. Lots and lots of flirting. All coming from Gerda, unfortunately; but then, Balagog didn't say much in general. Probably still trying to protect whatever secret he had.
Both Hadring and Fultheim noticed, but neither commented on it yet. Hadring probably decided not to piss off his only two paying tenants and Fultheim… was probably too drunk to care.
Gerda was slowly but steadily getting more courageous as far as flirting was concerned. Seeing Balagog blush was just so funny. Also, as it seemed he had no idea how to respond, it made him a safe target for her admittedly unskilled and too direct attempts. Most Nords would already be all over her. Most men of other races too, for that matter.
After a particularly fetching blush, she decided to say goodbye to common sense and upped the stakes. "Will you visit my room tonight?" Gerda asked with an inviting smile.
Balagog swallowed and looked away, "Skyrim might be more… free with such things, but visiting a lady's room is not proper. People might get the wrong idea."
"Or perhaps the right one," she answered and leaned in even closer. "If it is something you wish for as well."
"It does not bother you people see me get into your room at night?" Balagog asked her incredulously.
"Not at all. After all, you already got between my legs," she winked at him. "On the first day of knowing me, no less."
"Gerda," Balagog said in that growling voice of his. "Surely there are many Nords who would be happy to have you…" he seemed almost desperate to put some distance between them. Yet he was also unwilling to take a single step back.
"Sure, they'd like to have a strong woman like me," Gerda snorted. "As long as the strong woman in question isn't stronger than them. Or these noble Nords quickly realize that pretty little Breton girls are actually very attractive and exactly what they want." She knew she sounded bitter, but she was way past caring. The hypocrisy of her kinsmen always angered her.
"You… somehow, you see both my sides." She reached out and caressed his cheek. He shivered, closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I am a woman and you notice that. I am also a warrior; something it seems you accept. Or am I wrong?"
Balagog shivered under her caress, then replied, "N-no," he swallowed heavily, "you being a warrior is something to be respected, not hidden." He licked his dry lips.
They looked so inviting that Gerda couldn't help but want to lick them, too. Balagog noticed her gaze and swallowed back a groan.
His face turned so dark she feared the blush will become permanent. He simply nodded in answer to her original question, then rose on slightly shaky legs and went to take his meal in his room.
Gerda watched him leave with a cheeky smirk, then noticed that Fultheim was calling her over. When she sat down next to him, she realized the old drunk decided to share his 'professional' opinion of her private affairs.
"He's mighty nice for an Orc, but he's an Orc." He gave Gerda a half-drunk, half-leering grin. "Take care not to bite off more than you can chew, girly." Fultheim finished his advice laughing, "Or maybe he'd be the biter, eh?"
Gerda didn't know what made Fultheim so sure she was an innocent maid in need of protection. She also had no idea that Hadring or Fultheim were willing to comment. They didn't seem to care until now.
She just gave him a non-committal reply and walked away.
Hm, maybe it was better this way. If Balagog really didn't want or like her flirting, he'll just stay in his room. But if he keeps to their "appointment" in her room, he must be open to her advances. She hoped.
There was something else that bothered her, though. The way he all but ran from a kiss that didn't even happen…
Was he a virgin after all? If so, did she want to be his first?
First times should be special. Gerda learned that the hard way, when she sacrificed her virginity to the greatest braggart she could find so she could gain her freedom from social expectations and become a warrior. She did not want to be the one to take something so precious from another, not if she planned to leave. Eventually.
But she still wanted him. She still planned to have him. Did that mean she wanted to stay? For longer than a few days or weeks?
Gerda was startled to realize that her answer was yes.
-balablob-balablob-balablob-
When Balagog entered her room that evening, Gerda noticed he looked… almost scared. That was… not good. Gerda wanted him, sure, but she also wanted him to be comfortable with her. She wanted that look from her dream. The peace she felt when she sat next to him.
This will need some expert handling. 'No flirting, you oaf, or you'll scare him off completely,' she told herself and decided to do something she noticed relaxed him. Something he felt no need to defend himself or his secrets against. She talked of her adventures.
But which one? In those few years she spent in Skyrim, she had so many. Most of them boring. She usually got to the place she was supposed to be at, killed everything in sight, got the item people asked her to get, then she went back and handed it over.
This time, she would need something a bit… lighter. Funnier. Perhaps… perhaps the tale of her 'engagement' would do.
Gerda waved him closer, "Come, come, my friend," she gestured to the table with two chairs and several mead bottles that she already prepared. "I promise, we won't get all that drunk. I already learned my lesson with Sam Guevenne." She smirked at him.
Balagog lifted an eyebrow at the bottles, then conveniently asked, "Sam Guevenne. Anyone I should know?"
"Oh, I'm sure even I don't truly know who or what that was. But he is tied closely to the tale of my engagement…"
Balagog flinched as if she punched him. He tried to mask it, but was not very successful, "You are engaged?"
Gerda saw her mistake and was quick to reassure him. "Was. For less than four days from what I counted." Now she will definitely have to tell the tale to its end. "Sit down and I'll tell you about that one night to remember."
Balagog cautiously sat down and picked a tankard. Gerda sat next to him and started talking.
„...then my 'fiancé' gave one final mighty screech and fell over dead. Right on top of her bed covered in bloody human bones. As if on cue, several of the Spriggan heads outside fell down too. Aaaand that marked the end of my rather remarkable betrothed," Gerda finished with a laugh.
Balagog chuckled. While she was talking, he had several tankards of mead. His cheeks were slightly flushed. Gerda found it very attractive. As she found most things about him, she noticed. „Oh? How did the search for the staff end then? That was the purpose of the entire pursuit, was it not?"
„Ah, yes, I eventually tracked it down to some Necromancer lair. Call me oblivious, but that was the first time I suspected something was wrong. After I killed them all, a mysterious portal opened almost on top of me and seemed to invite me in." Gerda gave him a wry smile. „I still don't know what Daedra it was, but I knew better than to step through and loose my soul to one of them. "
Balagog seemed troubled. „Some of us don't have the freedom to choose," he said and looked away.
Gerda suddenly remembered his question from the first day. Now she understood what he was really asking.
As a Dragonborn, she was the unwilling target of many Daedric Gods. During their talks, she also made it quite clear she detested being bound or forced into… well… anything. Yet Balagog, as an Orc, was already a Daedra worshipper of a sort. Their patron God was one, after all.
She really was not certain how to handle this. She never considered Malacath a true Daedra anyway, since he cared for and watched over his people as the Aedra did. If she were to have a favorite Daedra, it would be Malacath. She appreciated his loyalty - even after his involuntary change, he stuck by them and they by him. That was hard to find amongst any Gods, be they Aedra or Daedra.
She decided on honesty, as usual. Why hide under a mask, when she was trying to get to know someone? "I believe there is a difference between Daedra worship and evil doings." She sighed and looked down.
"I'm not really the best person to ask. I've had too many Daedra attempt to ensnare me, but I know of several who worship them, yet are good people, doing great things." Aela came to mind, even if that girl was a bit too… savage, for Gerda's tastes.
"As long as the one doing the worshipping doesn't try to kill, rape or steal in the name of 'religion', I have no problem with any Daedra worship." Then Gerda realized something and chuckled, "Actually, the Daedric Gods themselves are often less evil than their human worshippers. I helped Azura get her star from an evil Necromancer who wanted to corrupt it and then helped Meridia rid her temple of Necromancers. Funny how Necromancers were involved both times."
Balagog looked her in the eyes. He seemed a bit confused, "So you follow Azura and Meridia, then? I thought…"
"Oh no, I merely helped them, because it was the right thing to do; something I would have done anyway." She saw where he might be confused about it. "I handed Azura's Star back to her, then left it at the altar - cleansing the Star is her own job. Meridia tried to lock me in her temple until I took her precious sword, but forgot that I'm also a mage." Gerda's grin turned malicious. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve; I'll never have to worry about being locked somewhere again." She waved the whole topic away, "For me, they were nothing more than some beings that needed my help."
Balagog stared as if he never saw anything like her before. "You… walked away? Just left? They did not strike you down?"
"I'm a bit stronger than your average human," she gave him a mockingly arrogant look. He didn't seem to get it, but accepted it anyway. "Hm, now that I think about it, I helped Malacath, too. One of the strongholds, at least, then I cleansed his shrine of Giants. I didn't accept his hammer, but he seemed pleased with me anyway."
Balagog really didn't know what to say to that. He simply took another sip of his mead. "So, you don't mind… Daedra worshippers, as long as they do not commit evil." He leaned back in his chair. "You are more open-minded than I'm used to." He quietly added, "I like that."
It seemed Gerda was not the only one opening here. Most of what Balagog said until now was… neutral. This was actually the first time he said anything about what he thought or felt. The first time he complimented her.
The feeling of warmth that spread over her chest was unexpected. She felt herself start to blush.
Balagog's lips curled into a small smile. He probably enjoyed turning the tables on her. Usually it was her making him blush, after all.
Balagog handed her a tankard full of mead. As she reached for it, their fingers touched. Heat spread through both of them.
Gerda gently took his hand in her own. Balagog didn't protest; in fact, he seemed glad she took the leading role. As if he waited for her to do just that.
It was moments like these she hated the Nord architecture and the incredible stupidity of people who built Inn rooms without doors. If she tried anything more than this, it would be immediately visible to Hadring. Fultheim would probably come watch too, for good measure.
Gerda reluctantly let go of his hand. She took a long drink from her tankard.
This will be a long night.
After several hours and several bottles of mead and ale, she decided to get them to Balagog's room. Gerda insisted that she can sing and play the lute better than any bard and wanted to prove it, right then.
Balagog smiled and laughed with her as she sung yet another drunken rendition of Ragnar the Red and Gerda couldn't help the warm feelings his attention gave her. She wanted more.
She tried to move closer and kiss him, but her legs just wouldn't obey her. Suddenly, she realized she lied on the stone floor.
Gerda heard Balagog move closer.
"For a strong Nord warrior, you certainly are a lightweight," he smiled fondly.
Gerda barely heard him, since the swimming ceiling was making her nauseous. He moved even closer to her, then she felt herself being gently lifted. The last thing she heard felt the gentle rumble of his chest, before she let herself fall asleep in his arms.
When Gerda woke up, she noticed her room was colder than usual. Then she noticed that her ceiling was solid stone. Finally she turned her head and saw Balagog sleeping in the chair next to... his bed.
'Hmm. I fell asleep and he must have put me in his bed. What should I make of this, I wonder,' she thought, still half asleep.
This scene was oddly intimate. Perhaps even more so than if she found him sleeping next to her.
It reminded her of her own grandparents, how her grandmother always rested at grandfather's side when he was sick. She felt oddly touched by the gesture.
'He really is a sweet man,' was her last thought before she drifted off again. This time she slept till morning.
-balablob-balablob-balablob-
A/N: Explanation about how Gerda escaped Meridia's temple without taking the Dawnbreaker.
Omake: The Mysterious Spell
Gerda sat down tiredly.
Ancano was a pile of dust and the Psijics took the ball of shiny with them. Then they oh so gracefully threw this epic mess onto her lap by naming her Archmage.
Tolfdir agreed before she could say anything about it. Git. Probably afraid he'd be named if he didn't find a scapegoat quickly enough.
With another sigh, she took a look around the room she sat in. The Archmage's quarters.
It still felt wrong to be here. It felt so… lived in. By someone other than her, that is. Aren left his personal items here. She wondered how many of them she will find in the coming months.
Well, no time like the present. Better to get this over with.
She started with some kind of chest full of books. That felt less invasive than the rest of Aren's room.
She randomly tossed a few Apprentice level spellbooks aside. Why the Archmage even had those, she had no idea. He must have known these spells already.
She delved in even deeper. She merely prayed she will not find any Lusty Argonian Maid books in here. That would destroy her image of Aren forever.
At the very bottom of the chest, she found something strange.
It was a single sheet of paper, covered in a strange drawing of a dark rectangle and grayish writing. The sheet only contained two words.
'coc Whiterun'
She muttered those words under her breath.
As soon as she said them, her entire world turned dark and misty. Suddenly, she found herself standing at the bridge near Whiterun.
She looked around in shock. A grin slowly appeared on her face.
'Let Tolfdir deal with the College. I… have some research to do.'