Bruma, a little town in Cyrodiil was widely understood as a Nibenese county, but in truth, it was more Nord than Nibenese, due to its close proximity to the Skyrim border. And on account of the terrible cold and discomfort of its location high in the Jerall Mountains. It was always cold and covered with snow, so much so, that they kept the braziers burning in every quarter to prevent the citizens from freezing to death.
By nightfall, a Dunmer in burgundy middle-class clothing had made the steep climb up to Bruma's north gate. Like every Fredas, he made the long journey from Skingrad to the little mountain town through freezing wind and snow. He could not help but shiver in the breeze, heating his uncomfortable cold hands with his fire magic. He was headed straight for Olav's Tap and Tack yearning for something warm to eat and a dry warm place to sit. Stifling a yawn, he pushed the tavern's door open and was met with the constant hum of lively conversations as well as the laughing and hollering of drunken Nords. He made his way over to the counter and ordered something to eat and paid for his room. Olav knew him well enough not to engage in small talk with this grumpy mer. Every week like clockwork he would come by nightfall and order the exact same things, he would never socialise and react angrily to everyone who tried to interact with him. How this mer could be a trader was beyond Olav, yet he shrugged it off and handed the elf his plate of steaming meat.
Alval Uvani hated deviations from his schedule maybe more than he hated people. But today, as he went to his usual seat with his plate in hand, he found it taken. A deep scowl darkened his features even more. A deviation from his routine!
The Dunmer glared down at the small Breton woman, who had the gall to sit in his spot. He recognised her face from fleeting encounters on the street, knowing that she worked here in town. But then again, here everyone knew each other, even regular visitors. Adventurers or Nord coming over the pale pass from Falkreach stood out like a sore thumb. That fact angered Alval even more. She has to have heard of him, she must have known, that he was sitting here every Fredas. Everyone knew and no one ever dared to challenge him as she did. Well, not since he had blasted the last Nord who did so to smithereens. Earned him a stay in the Bruma jail but it was totally worth it. He took a deep breath before hissing:
"That's my table! Move it!"
Her sky-blue eyes met his angry red ones and her smile froze as she recognised the mer. She had already heard of his reputation. Knew, that this Dunmer was not only a regular at Olav's Tap and Tack but probably the most unfriendly being to ever roam Tamriel. Thus far, however, she had not been in his line of fire.
She took a deep breath. Maybe the rumours about him were wrong after all and he was a decent being under his gruff demeanour. Well, judging by his angry scowl that seemed to be unlikely yet the woman decided to give it a try. With a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smirk, she looked at the backrest of her seat and then at the table, as if searching for something. When the gaze of her big blue eyes finally returned to the mer's angry glare, she grinned widely.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't find your name on the seat."
She said in a light tone of voice. The Dunmer straightened a bit, his hands balled into tight fists at his side.
"But why don't you sit with me, seeing that there is no other table free and here is room enough for both of us. Besides, I would welcome some company."
She paused before adding coyly.
"Maybe a bit of friendly conversation would lighten your mood as well?"
The dark elf's glare only darkened as he sucked in air in shocked surprise.
How dare she!
He thought, feeling his fingertips heat up with destructive fire magic. Mari sensed, that he was not taking her little joke well. She could feel the prickle of magicka coming off of him like thousands of ants on her skin. As a healer herself she was quite receptive to the changes in the atmosphere a spell would cause. Fiddling with her fork nervously, she regarded him a bit more carefully. She had actually never seen him use magic, he could bluff to keep his reputation alive. Behind his obvious anger, he looked tired and worn and well past his prime. And she was not to give in to the demands of some grumpy old Dunmer easily.
Despite his raging anger, Alval chose to keep his magic in check, even though he would love to burn her pretty eyes out.
Those eyes,
he mused. They reminded him of someone else. Of another woman, he knew a lifetime ago and he had liberated himself from before he started a new life in Cyrodiil. Maybe it was because of those eyes and the memories they evoked that he swallowed down his anger. At least for now.
With a glare that promised pain and death, the Dunmer slowly sat down across from the Breton and started to eat in grim silence. She could feel him stare into her very soul. She looked up from her own meal and held his gaze, though he started to make her feel uncomfortable already. Very uncomfortable. Partly because he was so angry for no apparent reason. But Mari had always found Dunmeri eyes unsettling. She guessed it was because of the red colour she associated with blood and disease. To be honest, she even had problems staring into her good friend's blood-red eyes for too long and he never gave her any reason to fear him. Not like this merchant. This unhappy dark elf made her hair stand on end, the way he just stared at her in silence.
"I...I'm sorry. But there wasn't anywhere else to sit."
She offered, a bit more timidly than she intended to sound and instantly his cold gaze turned into a sneer.
"Shut up woman, or I'll turn your bones to ash!"
Mari Parean straightened and shifted nervously in her seat. That was not the reaction she had anticipated and to be honest he made her more than only uncomfortable. He downright scared her. Mari swallowed drily. There was something dangerous around him. And by the way, he carried himself and his tone of voice she had no doubt that he would just do that. Turn her bones to ash.
Mari resumed eating trying to focus on her food. All she wanted was to get away from him and his suppressive aura. She should have listened to Olav, who had warned her not to sit there.
This will not happen again. Never!
She promised herself. Still, she felt his gaze on her.
Why won't he just look away? Gods, this guy is like an angry dog with a bone. Is he trying to stare me to death?
Taking a sip of her tea, she regarded him over the rim of her mug with renewed curiosity. He was neither a young elf nor a very healthy looking one. Wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes only deepened his constant scowl. Deep dark circles under his eyes gave him an additional tired expression. They also told the Breton woman, that he was outside a lot. All in all, it made Mari wonder what had made him so bitter and angry and unapproachable. Narrowing her eyes a little, her gaze was drawn to a pattern of thin white scars which moved up his neck from under his shirt's collar until they reached the jar line. Those fine white scars were mixed in with his wrinkles as well, making them look deeper than they were. He must have been pretty young when he received that kind of injury, the scars were barely noticeable. It made her wonder.
"If you want to keep your pretty eyes, quit staring!"
Mari jumped a little at the sound of his angry hiss, she hadn't meant to keep staring at him. His eyes seemed to glow with now barely suppressed rage.
"Then quit staring at me, too! It's annoying!"
She snapped back, wondering where her sudden courage came from. Uvani's fork sank down on his plate and one eyebrow wandered up on his forehead. Obviously, he hadn't anticipated her reaction as well.
Oh, a feisty little one. I like that.
He thought, smirking ever so slightly. Mari's gaze, however, fell down on her hands, missing his smirk.
You're so stupid,
she chided herself for her unwanted bravery, whilst trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in her throat. Suddenly she wasn't feeling hungry anymore and all she wanted was to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Without another word she stood up and went over to the bar, almost fleeing his presence.
At the bar she took a deep calming breath, realizing that her hands were shaking. Olav turned towards her with a sympathetic smile.
"Did Uvani scare you? Well, Mari, I hate to say it but told you so."
Mari nodded, accepting the mead Olav placed in front of her with a thankful smile.
"Yeah, I'm sorry for not listening."
She mumbled, sipping at the sweet liquid.
"Don't worry. Just stay clear of him and you'll be fine. He is a loner. And the personification of moody Dunmer."
That made the Breton woman giggle a little. Exactly her thoughts, though "moody" was quite an understatement.
"That's my table."
She said, giving Olav her best Uvani impression. The Nord laughed wholeheartedly.
"You get any closer and I'll turn your bones to ash. Back off!"
Mari continued, earning another laugh from Olav.
"Who does this moron think he is? That stupid Dunmer behaves as if he owns that place! Why do you put up with this kind of behaviour in your tavern Olaf? Why not just kick him out?"
She looked up. Olav was staring at her with a shocked expression. Mari blinked. No, he was not staring at her. The Nord fixed something behind her. A shiver ran down her spine.
"He's standing behind me isn't he?"
She asked the Nord, but before he could reply, a plate was slammed on the counter next to Mari. It made the slender woman jump, but the warm hand that grabbed her upper arm and yanked her around roughly startled her so much, she let out a little yelp. Wanting to get away from the dark elf she struggled against the mer's grip, but the hand only tightened around her limb and she was pulled in closer. Close enough to feel his body heat radiating off of him. She looked up, his whole face was distorted in rage and his eyes glowed in a dark crimson colour. The scared woman looked away, but his fingers closed around her chin and forced her to face him.
"You dare to mock me?"
He hissed, squeezing her chin just a little bit more. She could feel the tingle of magicka where his fingers met her skin and in an instant, she feared he might burn her face off.
"I...I'm sorry."
She stammered.
"You better be unless you want to feel the consequences. And believe me, they will be most...unpleasant!"
His hand disappeared from her chin and a sizzling ball of fire appeared on his palm. Mari turned her face away from the heat, but he pulled her against his body. He changed his firm grip from her arm and instead grabbed her long braid pulling her head back. Forcing her to look up at him.
"Please...don't."
She whimpered. The flame in his hand changed colour from orange to white as he fed more magicka into his spell, yet did not move otherwise. Just fixed her with his cold stare. A stare that told Mari that he could kill her without a second thought.
"Uvani!"
She heard Olav's stern voice behind them.
"Let her go!"
The heat died away and Uvani turned to the Nord. Olav held up his hands.
"She didn't mean it. Let her go, or I have to call the guards."
The hand disappeared from her face, as Uvani straightened. Without another word, he shoved her out of his way and went to his rented room, slamming the door shut behind him. With shaking knees and hands, Mari grabbed the bar to support herself. Olav bent over the counter putting a comforting hand on the little Breton's shoulder.
"You want to have another drink?"
Mari shook her head.
"No... no. I... I think I just go home."
Olav straightened back up again.
"Now? It's already past midnight! And it's quite the storm outside!"
A small smile tugged on Mari's lips as she put her cloak around her shoulders and tightened it.
"It'll be alright, don't worry. But I need to get some fresh air. That Dunmer scared me good. See you next week."
She headed for the door, but before she left, she turned back to Olav.
"Thank you."
In his room, Uvani sat on his bed and frowned deeply. He had killed for less. Indeed killing was his profession. But now he asked himself, why he had held back, despite being triggered by her attitude. Sure it would have been an inconvenience to go to prison or even deal with the pesky guards, though he could easily pay the crime gold. But this time, he just wanted to scare her, he had never intended to really hurt her. In a tired gesture, he rubbed his hands over his face. Maybe it was just this. Maybe he was just tired, it had been a long journey after all. And a dangerous one. But there was something else. That encounter had conjured memories, he had thought long forgotten.
Those eyes...
He thought, not for the first time today. They reminded him of Tarani. And how he had murdered her. With a sigh and a shrug, he finally stood up.
That ungrateful bitch!
Taking his linen shirt off, he was entertained by the thought that the roads were full of bandits and creatures. Maybe the Breton would die on her way home, he could care less. But again, his thoughts returned to Tarani.
Good riddance to that bitch. May her soul burn in the Void for all eternity!
The Dark Elf smirked as he retired to his bed. He needed a good night's rest, tomorrow he had a long journey ahead of him. And a desk full of contracts waiting for him.
The next day found him on his road towards Leyawiin. His step was a bit less energetic than usual, and he still felt very tired. To his surprise, he hadn't slept well at all. Nightmares had disturbed his rest greatly, nightmares of a woman with big eyes. Eyes that had haunted him in his youth and now came back to haunt him again. Those big eyes stared right into his with a plea to spare her life. He was angry about the fact that a random stranger had such an effect on him. How a pair of pretty eyes could disrupt his routine so much. He growled under his breath, vowing that next time he would unleash his fury on her. And part of him hoped that he would come across a pack of bandits. He needed to hurt someone.