Winner Takes All
Droplets of mead sprayed all around as Marieka slammed her mug down on the on the bar in front of her. Those gathered around her cheered; egging her on into yet another attempt to win against the Imperial soldier in front of her.
"Cor…Corpuscle," she slurred. "Gimme another drink!"
The man behind the bar shook his head and groaned as he began to fill another pair of mugs for the two women before him. He had to admit – it'd been quite some time since he'd seen the Winking Skeever in such frenzy.
"It's Corpulus," he muttered as he placed the mug carefully in front of her.
"Ah…yes," she replied. "Cornelious. Thank you."
He shook his head as he looked at her. The Breton's eyes were glazed over completely and she struggled to maintain her balance, despite how her grip on the bar left her knuckles white. The Imperial across from her appeared just as unsteady. Yet the two women immediately wrapped their fingers around their respective mugs and stared each other down once more.
"You…will not…outdrink me…Stormcock," the Imperial stammered.
Several onlookers snorted at the derisive comment.
"You aren't going to let her call you that, are you Breton?" called a voice from the crowd.
"Call me what?" she asked, oblivious to the insult.
"Stormcock," the drunk woman repeated.
"You called me—?" she began, but did not finish. The Imperial lifted her mug to her mouth and with a shocking amount of coherency, Marieka jabbed the palm of her hand under the mug, sending it straight into the woman's jaw and spilling its contents all over her.
As the woman sat there in shock, the Breton jumped unsteadily to her feet and slowly gulped away at her own mug of mead. When she pulled the mug away from her mouth, the Imperial was attempting to stand, cocking her fist back and aiming for Marieka's face. As her hand rushed forward in slow motion, it led her past where her intended target stood and straight towards the floor. She landed hard on the ground and two men watching the battle of wills and steadily decreasing sobriety pulled her off to the side.
The crowd cheered and declared Marieka the winner of the challenge. She stuck her arm into the air and wavered on her feet once more.
"I won! What…what did I win? I want my…prize!" she exclaimed and then promptly passed out.
When Marieka woke, several hours later, she found herself in a rather large, but empty bed. She looked around the room she was in and her eyes fell upon a fair haired woman sitting on a chair in the corner. She was also a Breton by her appearance.
"Who…wait…you're the bard from the Skeever," she mumbled.
The woman nodded. "Yes. Lisette. You're still in the Skeever."
"I…am? Oh…" she said. "Yes. Now I remember. The challenge from the Imperial woman. Did I…win?"
The woman nodded again.
"And what did I win?"
"We…uh…we don't normally have women challenging each other here," Lisette replied. "So…you won a night with me."
"A night with…you?" She was incredulous that the woman would let herself be a prize for such a contest. "Don't you find that...degrading?"
Lisette shook her head. "Not at all. The men are usually so drunk from the contest that they typically pass out and I'm just left with a rather comfortable night's rest."
"So then," she began, looking only slightly nervous, "nothing happened here either. Right?"
"Right. But you can tell everyone it did, if you like. Most of the men want to do that."
"No, I…I think I'd be happier not to spread any rumours," Marieka replied with a chuckle.
"Would make quite the song though," Lisette pointed out. "You are Dragonborn after all."
"You know, rumours in song do tend to sound better. I've never had a song written about me," she mused aloud with a smile growing upon her face. "Besides. I'll just deny it all anyhow."
Lisette smiled back at her, armed with the knowledge that even though she said she'd deny it, the look on her face suggested she probably wouldn't.