Rorikstead
"Wait here, morsel. Rorikstead is just down this hill." Arnbjorn jumped off Shadowmere's back and began to remove his clothes. "Look at all the solders down there. Something is up."
"Don't you think they would object to a wolf slinking around? They might figure you're responsible for carrying off chickens or… lambs and kill you." Nessa jumped off the horse. "Why don't you let me go see what's up? I'm quite stealthy and if I get caught I can make up some story."
Arnbjorn looked up from unfastening his laces. "Because you're our secret weapon, Nessa. We don't want your face to be recognized. Particularly if those are Imperials, and I suspect they are."
She watched him undress, forcing herself not to look away. "Be careful, Arn."
Arnbjorn turned to look at her, she looked genuinely concerned. "I will be, bit. A kiss for luck?"
"A kiss?" she asked, her cheeks turning pink.
"Aye, for luck."
"I suppose. For luck." She drew closer to him, trying to forget the naked man she was about to kiss was Astrid's husband. She pursed her lips and bussed him on the cheek, right next to his mouth.
He growled and wrapped an arm around her waist, firmly planting his lips on hers. He was in danger of proving her right in her assessment of Nord men, so he let her go nearly as suddenly as he had seized her. "I'm sure my wife taught you better than that. She'd be disappointed to know her lessons didn't take. Ah well." He shrugged and turned away, about to transform into a wolf, but she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Woof, I can kiss better than that, it's just that… Why do you even want to kiss me? I thought you loved your wife."
"Ah, bit, that's good to hear. We can discuss the whys later. Do you want to try again, or should I go face whatever fate has in store for me unkissed?"
She frowned at him and drew nearer. He didn't come closer this time; he made her initiate the kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him gently at first. Over the course of this week of traveling together her curiosity had grown. Astrid had been with him for ten years, there must be a reason why. Why did he seem interested in her? Why had his arm, and then both arms, snaked around her as they rode on Shadowmere? It had become clear that it wasn't just the sudden cold weather as they traveled through the higher elevations.
So she really kissed him, like she'd kissed Astrid. Softly at first, then her tongue tentatively exploring his lip, finally she took his bottom lip into her mouth and let it pass through her teeth. He made a soft noise and one arm went around her waist, his other hand splayed over the back of her neck. He was gentle, restrained even, but she could sense he was holding back. He pulled her tighter to him and opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. She leaned into him and her hands crept up to his hair and she entwined her fingers in his white mane.
Then it was her that made a little noise. She hadn't meant to, it just escaped without permission. That made Arnbjorn chuckle, a deep sound that rumbled through him like a saber cat purring.
She pulled her head back just enough to break the kiss although their lips were barely separated. "Do you approve this time?"
He smiled at her and pecked her on the forehead. "I do, bit. I do." He let go of her and stepped away. "Take Shadowmere and hide in the trees off the road. I'll be back as soon as I figure out what's going on."
Nessa watched him transform into a wolf and grimaced again at the painful contortions. The wolf turned to look at her with something almost like a smile on his muzzle. He barked once and ran off through the woods along the road.
That kiss had been sweet. The wolf mulled over markedly unlupine thoughts of the human girl as he skulked into the village of Rorikstead, just after sunset. He had always understood the source of his wife's obsession with Nessa. She thought of Nessa as herself when she was younger, younger even than Nessa, and far less worldly. There was something rather vain in that attraction, like looking in a mirror and making love to a younger version of yourself.
This time together was his plan to see if, perhaps, he and Nessa together could win back Astrid, but first he had to see if they could bond. If they couldn't come together as lovers, then there was little hope they could sell the idea to Astrid. He had warmed to the idea over the course of the trip. Nessa had been shy and tentative at first, but lately she'd been speaking her mind more freely. He enjoyed seeing her confidence growing and didn't mind the occasional barbed comment she delivered. Astrid may be in love with her sweetness and innocence, but he found himself drawn to the woman she was becoming. There was that, and then there was her scent. Her very pores exuded a perfume that was entirely her own. That was an import factor for him. Sometimes Astrid teased him that he lived life through his nose and he supposed it was true. Sometimes it took all his self-control to refrain from sniffing her inappropriately.
I'd be a man with two wives, he thought and then he realized that was probably the wrong way to describe such a relationship. It would be more like Astrid had both a wife and a husband. He grinned wolfishly at the thought. There was no question who the dominant partner in their relationship would be; Astrid would be in charge, as always.
Arnbjorn carefully kept to the shadows and crept about the outside of the inn until he saw a pair of soldiers weaving unsteadily as they made their way to the outhouse.
"Captain Valentius says we'll finally see some action. They've found a Stormcloak camp not far from Falkreath."
Captain Valentius? That was one of the Imperials they were contracted to kill in Solitude. Apparently he was on the move. Still, Valentius wasn't that unusual of a name for an Imperial. They couldn't assume it was their target.
"Shut up, idiot!" the other soldier said. "We don't need to announce our plans. This place is crawling with Nords. The Eight only know how many are rebel sympathizers."
Arnbjorn slunk away from the inn and sat down to ponder. The Valentius they were looking for was a brash, young officer, who was used to having his way. He was the spoiled son of nobility and quite used to getting what he wanted. Perhaps if he sent Nessa ahead to the inn, especially if it seemed the Imperials were in their cups tonight. A little bit of her shy flirting and she might attract the attention of the young, cocky captain… A plan began to take shape.
~o~o~o~
Nessa paced. It was ridiculous to worry. Arnbjorn was an experienced assassin and he'd lived as a werewolf for a long time; surely he knew the dangers better than she did. She paused in her pacing and took a deep breath and let her muscles relax. That's better.
But what if some dog gets wind of him and starts to bark. They'll investigate. She began imagining angry farmers and guardsmen with bows. Not all of them were such terrible archers. One lucky shot… She began to picture Arnbjorn pierced with an arrow, not one of her own. They'd descend on him. A swift slash from a bastard sword...
She began to pace again.
She caught herself again and forced herself to stop and breathe. Since when had she become such a worrier? If anything happened to Arnbjorn, she would feel responsible. She'd already accidentally shot him and she still felt guilt over that. It was foolish for him to go alone. It was too dangerous. The images played through her mind again.
She brushed her fingers across her lips, thinking of the kiss. There was a roughness to him, as she had said Nord men had, but he seemed to temper it with restraint. Those massive arms of his could break her in half, but they'd been a comforting, safe presence around her waist as they rode. Just has his body heat had warmed her through the cold, snowy mountain passes. She may have been hasty in painting all Nord men with the same brush. Yes, he was rough, but he had a gentle side, and his roughness suited him.
Does he want me… like, well… that? Maybe he was just toying with her, teasing her into betraying something. But what? She had no secrets. Her thoughts spun again and she started to pace.
Shadowmere came to stand closer to her and watched her. His intelligent red eyes glinted unnaturally in the dark
"Should I go after him, Shadowmere?" she asked the horse.
The horse bobbed his head. The girl was annoying him with her pacing. She should go find her mate.
Nessa stared at the horse for a moment then grabbed his muzzle and kissed him on the nose. "Of course. Thank you for pointing out the obvious, boy." She was already dressed in the soft, supple leather armor favored by the assassins so she wouldn't need to change. She followed the road, but staying well off it, to the village. She had barely left the area when a white ice wolf trotted up to her and grabbed he hem of her tunic in his mouth and tugged her back.
As she watched, he transformed into a human. "I told you to wait," he growled, barely above a whisper. "This place is crawling with Imperials."
She nodded. "I'm sorry. I was worried. And the horse…" she trailed off realizing how stupid it would sound to say the horse told her to follow him.
Arnbjorn barked out a short laugh. "Ah, don't blame it on Shadowmere, girl." He clasped her briefly with one arm and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm touched you were concerned, but you needn't be." He led her back to where the horse stood patiently. "It may well be that our first target is right here, in Rorikstead. I heard them talking about a Captain Valentius but it isn't an unusual Imperial name, we'll have to confirm. That's where you come in."
Nessa cocked her head and looked at him curiously. "All right, what do I need to do?"
"The officers are staying at the inn and, from the looks of it, they're in their cups tonight. You go down there and confirm if this is our man, or not. I'll give you some time to figure it out and try to capture his attention. I will show up later and play the jealous husband. No one will suspect a thing if he dies in a duel over a woman." He untied their packs from Shadowmere. "Leave your weapons and change into something nice."
"Hmmm… I should take a bath, and my dress is going to be wrinkled from being in my bag." She pulled out the blue dress she'd bought in Whiterun and inspected it in the dim light.
"No time for a bath, you smell just fine." Arnbjorn's fingers deftly found the clasps on her leather cuirass and began to unfasten it. "Remember, bit, we're a not-so-happily married couple. We need to be convincing, eh? You carry on with that Imperial captain, and I'll take things from there." He helped her out of the armor, long used to undressing his wife in just such a manner.
She put on her dress and slung her pack over her shoulder. "Do I look all right?"
"Like a wife running away from her brutish husband, I think." He smiled at her and tweaked one of her braids.
She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry about what I said about all Nord men being brutes. There might be one or two exceptions."
He chuckled at her. "It's nice to know you don't think I am one of them."
"Oh no, you are most definitely brutish," she said laughing. "But there's probably a few out there that aren't." She swung the pack over her should and headed for the road. She looked back and waved merrily at him and then ran down the road toward Rorikstead.
~o~o~o~
The Imperial soldiers were a blessing and a curse for the innkeeper. A blessing, because they paid with handfuls of gold, a curse because his larder was emptying out quickly. When the Nord girl slipped into his inn, he watched her walk the gauntlet past tables and chairs filled with Imperials. A few reached out to grab her, but she skittered away and looked daggers at them. She was pretty, young… and trouble. This was a very bad time for a woman alone to wander into town. It'd be best for all of them if he got rid of her as quickly as possible.
"Sorry, miss, the inn is completely full. Haven't got a room to let," he said when she got close enough to hear.
She dropped her satchel and looked around. "Please, sir. I'm in a spot of trouble. I'll sleep in the stable, if I must. I can pay!"
"Nothing I can do, miss. Sorry. Full up. Best you go elsewhere."
One of the soldiers stood up and came closer. "You haven't got anywhere for the lady? Not even an unused bed in the basement?"
Nessa looked at him gratefully. "I don't mind sleeping in the basement, or the stables. I just need a safe place for the night." She looked down at her feet. "I don't think I could walk another step."
The innkeeper shook his head. "Got skeevers in the basement, lass. Now you best leave. The Imperial army is here and there isn't a spot free in Rorikstead."
Nessa's bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. "All right. Maybe I can find a barn somewhere. But I will have my supper here. I have good coin and I can pay for it. I'm not asking for charity."
"Of course, my dear," the soldier put his hand on Nessa's shoulder and picked up her bag with the other. "In fact, the Imperial army will buy your supper tonight." He pulled her over to a table with eight other soldiers. "Innkeeper, bring the lady some food and ale. Charge it to Titus Mede's account."
"Yes, sir," the innkeeper said reluctantly. He hurried off to find more food and drink for yet another mouth.
Nessa looked around shyly as she sat at the table filled with soldiers. "Thank you, sir. I am in your debt. I thought I would faint of hunger. I have been walking all day with not a bite to eat."
At the far end of the table a soldier sat looking somewhat more authoritative than the others around him. His uniform was fancier and the sword he had propped up against the table was highly ornamented. Nessa judged that he might the captain they were looking for. He had the dark hair and dark eyes and cleft in his chin. He was actually quite a dashing figure. She stole a few shy glances at him and quickly looked away when he finally looked at her.
"What's your name, lass?" the man who rescued her asked.
"My name is Nessa, sir. I'm from Falkreath, originally. May I inquire as to your name?" she asked politely, trying to shift attention from those little details.
"I am Anton, Lieutenant Anton, originally from High Rock, but visiting your fair country of late." He smiled at her.
The innkeeper delivered her meal and ale. She set to it with gusto, trying to look as hungry as she claimed to be. "Thank you again, Anton."
The man at the end of the table watched her talk to Anton and waved over the innkeeper. "Keep the ale coming, man. The emperor is paying for this and I'll see we get our money's worth."
"Yes, Captain. Right away."
Nessa's ears caught the reference to the man's rank. It was certainly looking like he might be their target. She concentrated on her food but stole a sidewise look at him from time to time. When he noticed, she blushed and focused on her food.
"Girl," the captain drawled, "what brings you to Rorikstead? Surely it's dangerous to travel alone. This country is crawling with brigands and traveling minstrels."
She dropped her spoon and hesitantly turned to look at him. "I left my husband, sir. He has a terrible temper and I feared him more than any bandits."
"Goodness, my dear," the captain said, a solicitous smile spreading on his face. "He must be fearsome." He stood up and walked down the table and, in response to a curt head gesture, the soldier sitting on Nessa's other side got up. The captain sat down next to her. "Tell me what happened to make your husband so angry with you."
Shrugging, Nessa picked up her spoon and traced it through her stew thoughtfully. "What doesn't anger him, sir? He might beat me if his meat is too cooked, or not cooked enough. I might have my eye blackened if my hair isn't fixed right or, if it is, he might hit me because I must be trying hard to look nice for someone else. This time though…" She looked up at the captain and blinked her eyes quickly as if blinking away tears. "This time, though, he noticed me talking to the shopkeeper who buys eggs from me." She dropped her spoon again and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shook. "He saw me kiss him."
"Ah, so perhaps he has reason to be jealous?" the captain said.
"The shopkeeper was going to help me escape him, I just kissed him – 'Twas a chaste kiss, I swear it! – to thank him for his help." She sobbed noisily into her hands. "My husband grabbed his big axe and ran after the shopkeeper. I just ran the other direction and I haven't stopped running. He will kill me if he catches me!"
The captain put his hand on Nessa's shoulder and leaned in close. "Don't cry, my sweet. It will make your eyes red and puffy and you're far too lovely to be sad. With the Imperial army here, you will be safe, I swear it on my honor as a captain of the Imperium."
Nessa took a deep breath and looked up from her hands, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She'd managed to bring forth some from thinking of Astrid and the terrible day she told them they were through. She needed this foppish soldier's name. If this was Valentius, then all was well, if not she was flirting with the wrong man and that could be a disaster.
"Sir, I would thank you, but I don't even know the name of my benefactor." She rubbed away a little tear as it slid down her cheek.
"I am Captain Valentius, in charge of the cavalry of the fifth division." He picked up Nessa's hand and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles. "And at your service, my dear." She was a simple country girl and such gestures were nearly guaranteed to land her in his bed… almost without effort.
The serving girl came by and poured more ale for both of them.
"Bring some brandy, girl," the captain ordered her. "My lady here needs something a little more warming."
Nessa flushed and took a few more bites of her stew. "You are very kind, Captain Valentius," she said quietly, her eyelids fluttering up to peer at him shyly. Now that she was certain he was her target, she needed to push things. She had no idea how long before Arnbjorn would show up. It would help for him to find them doing something worthy of his rage. "I can't tell you how very grateful I am, sir."
A pleased hum came from him. He could think of a number of ways. "A chaste kiss like you gave the shopkeeper would be all the thanks I require." For now. The army would be on the move tomorrow, perhaps he'd take this girl along with them. She would be a welcome change from the usual whores that trailed after the division.
When the serving girl came back with brandy and two glasses he poured some for them both, a more generous portion for her. "Here you are, child. What did you say your name was?"
She looked down shyly. "I'm Nessa, sir." Then she turned her gaze back to him, blue eyes wide. "I don't normally drink strong spirits. I probably shouldn't." At least it wasn't a lie. Nessa had little tolerance for strong drink and she wanted to stay alert.
"Nonsense, my sweet. This is not strong liquor. Take a sip." He held her cup to her lips and tilted it slightly. A bit of the brandy ran into her mouth. It was sweet, made from snowberries and sugar, but it was strong as well.
Nessa ran her tongue lightly across her lip and made a soft noise of approval. "It tastes a bit like snowberry pie." She took the glass from the captain's hand, her fingers touching his a little shyly, but with intent. She took another sip. "Yes, that is warming." The captain was lying, of course. The liquor was very strong.
"Now, as to that kiss, little Nessa…" He moved closer to her on the bench. Actually, Nessa wasn't little at all. She was as tall, perhaps a bit more, as a typical Nord woman. Her figure was slight and willowy, suggestive of her youth. He was attracted by her shy, simple ways. Legate Mallus would be mauve with envy. He'd done nothing but complain all the way to Dragon Bridge about the slatterns following along behind the division. Although… now that he thought of it, perhaps he should present the girl to the Legate, that might actually advance his career, whereas flaunting her in front of his superior... that wasn't his best idea. Well, that's what he'd do then. When the legate joined the division, he'd send him the girl. In the meantime, he could make certain she was adequate to the task of entertaining such an important man.
Nessa blushed and hesitated. "Captain Valentius, if my husband should see such a thing… He is a very jealous man. I would fear for your life."
Valentius pulled himself up with a disdainful sniff. "Madam, I am an officer of the Imperial Legion. My training in swordsmanship is second to none. My family saw to it that I had the finest weapons and instructions in all Cyrodiil. You need not fear for me. I'm sure I can defeat a farmer, no matter how large his axe."
Inwardly Nessa was laughing, but she schooled her expression to be a look of shy admiration. "Is that your weapon, sir?" She pointed to the sword dangling from the belt at his waist. "It seems so small next to the great axe my husband wields." She eyed it dubiously.
Bristling at the comparison, Valentius drew his sword and presented it to the woman, hilt first. "Take it, my dear. Feel its heft. This is no lady's toy, but rest assured that a sword like this is a weapon to be used with skill and swiftness. While your husband is hefting his axe with two hands, I will be already skewering him with my sword."
Nessa didn't bother to tell him she'd seen Arnbjorn wielding his enormous axe with one hand and moving quicker than most swordsmen. It would be much better if the officer underestimated him. Better yet if he was slightly drunk.
The captain took back his sword and resheathed it. "Now, back to that kiss. Where did this shopkeeper kiss you?"
Nessa was enjoying the game of pretending to be more innocent than she actually was. Astrid was right about that. Not all that long ago she probably would have said something this ridiculous: "In his shop." She took another sip of the brandy. It really was quite tasty.
Smiling at the girl Valentius tossed back his glass of brandy and poured himself another. "Stuff 's good. I have to hand it to you Nords. You make a good brandy." He took another good sized swallow and leaned forward. "Now, why don't you kiss me like you kissed that shopkeeper, hm?"
Biting her lip, she looked down at her hands and smiled. The captain reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers.
"Don't be shy, Nessa," he said, his voice was kind and encouraging.
She leaned toward him and planted a quick kiss on his check and then retreated to her own space.
Valentius laughed. The girl was going to take some work, but it was a job he would enjoy. "My sweet, that can barely even be called a kiss. Your husband must be a monster to take affront from such an innocent peck."
Gratitude shone from Nessa's eyes. "I'm so glad you understand. The man is truly a brute. I never wanted to marry him." She picked up the captain's tumbler of brandy and handed it to him. "My parents made me. I should have run away."
The captain took another sip of his brandy. "Now, why don't you moisten those pretty lips with snowberry brandy and give me a proper kiss?"
She brought the glass to her lips and took another sip. The drink was strong and she was beginning to feel rather warm. She peered into the glass and then dipped her finger into it, painting the brandy on her lips. Oops… that wasn't so innocent. She looked at Valentius and realized he actually was a rather handsome man. Pity he had to die. Then she realized her thoughts were untrue to Astrid… but Astrid had sent her away. Her face showed the hesitancy and doubts she suddenly felt.
Valentius saw her hesitation and pulled her face to his. His lips met hers and he kissed her softly at first, but intensified the kiss quickly.
Nessa felt more invaded than seduced, but she returned the kiss inexpertly, playing her role to the hilt. She made a very soft sound and then pulled away from the captain. "Oh!" she said coyly. She took another sip from the brandy and felt it go right to her face and make her cheeks flush.
"Sweet girl," the captain said as he picked up her glass. "That was very nearly a proper kiss." He lifted Nessa's glass to her lips and tipped more liquor into her mouth as she opened her mouth. "Perhaps I can both teach you to kiss properly and make sure you have a comfortable bed to sleep in tonight, hm?"
Nessa nodded shyly, playing her part to the hilt and hoping that Arnbjorn would arrive soon. She was beginning to feel tipsy and the captain was starting to look even more handsome. He had a very nicely groomed mustache and his leather boots were very shiny black. He was slender, rather like the sword he wore, but tall for an Imperial, maybe even a little taller than she was.
"You can kiss me again," she said, "but I think I like snowberry kisses best." She picked up his glass and handed it to him, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.
He chuckled and took the glass from her, downing the remainder in a quick gulp. "Then a snowberry kiss you shall have." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her body into his and this time there was no hesitation from him. The kiss was a full frontal assault on the fortress of the girl's mouth. He would conquer her just as his cavalry had defeated Ulfric's Nord rabble time and again. Indeed, she seemed to melt against him. A few more sallies like that one and she'd be waving her smallclothes as a flag of capitulation and agreeing to whatever terms of surrender he demanded.
He let go of her suddenly and she gasped for air. "Did you enjoy your snowberry kiss, my sweet?" The other officers were looking at the two of them, some quite enviously, others studiously ignoring them.
She nodded, not quite sure she was lying. "I'd like another one." She picked up the bottle of snowberry brandy and refilled his cup.
He took another deep drink from his cup. The brandy had lit a warm fire within him. He could handle his liquor, but he was starting to feel rather jolly. "I think I might like a snowberry kiss, too." He handed her glass to her. "Do your countrymen proud and drink the entire thing."
Nessa stared at her cup a moment and realized this would take her over the top. Granted, she didn't have to kill the captain herself, but getting drunk wasn't part of the plan. She took a sip but the captain tipped the cup up and she had to swallow quickly otherwise it would overflow her mouth. The sweet liquor burned as she swallowed it. When her glass was empty she slammed it down on the table gasping for breath. The liquor was swaddling her brain in a soft, warm fog.
"Sweet Talos!" she said, loud enough to draw dark looks from the Imperials. Oh, gods damn my tongue! Did I just say that in a roomful of Imperial soldiers?
Captain Valentius drew near to her. "Watch yourself, girl. You're lucky the Thalmor aren't here, but their spies everywhere." He leered at her. "I'd hate for them to arrest you just when I'm getting to know you better."
"Sorry," she whispered. "An old habit, I'm trying to break it." Distracting him from her mistake, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. "You wanted a snowberry kiss, you said." This time she initiated the kiss. She pressed into him as her lips engaged his. She wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him as if she were kissing Astrid. He was nothing like Astrid, of course, but as the brandy burned in her veins she found herself enjoying it. His mustache tickled a little. She imagined for a moment that it was a white mustache, framing Arnbjorn's strong lips.
There was a clatter of hooves outside the inn and she thought she heard a familiar neighing. Shadowmere! She pulled the captain even deeper into her kiss and moaned. "I want you," she said, her breath hot against his ear, as she broke away a moment. Just need a little more time.
"Then you shall have me, my dear," he whispered back, gloating in victory about his conquest. He kissed her once more, his hand working through her braids to grasp at her hair. One more kiss to seal the deal and then…
The door to the inn crashed open suddenly. "Where is my wife?" A deep, angry voice rang out. "Nessa! There you are, worthless whore." He strode across the inn to Nessa and grabbed her by the braids, pulling her to her feet. "I'll make you pay for this, woman. You give me an Imperial brat, I swear I'll drown you and it both."
Nessa shrieked, fearing her hair would tear out. Arnbjorn was terrifying. His face was a mask of rage like she'd never seen before. He let go of her hair long enough to slap her hard. Even so her face stung and she suspected she would have a bruise for a few days. She staggered up against the wall and held her cheek, cowering in fear as she imagined a defenseless woman would. Did he have to slap me that hard?
A dozen Imperial soldiers rose and laid their hands on their swords. Captain Valentius did too. "Unhand that woman, you Nord savage. She's under the protection of the Imperium now."
Arnbjorn barked out a fierce laugh. "This woman is my wife, you prancing Imperial. I'd like to see you stop me."
The Imperials advanced on Arnbjorn menacingly.
"Really," Arnbjorn said, laughing, "does it take all of you to stop a single Nord farmer from taking his rightful wife home?"
Ness looked desperately at Captain Valentius, her eyes begging him to intervene. "Please. I don't want to go with him."
Valentius swaggered up to Arnbjorn, walking not quite as crisply as he normally did. "I will challenge you for her." His voice was cold and precise. "Isn't that the way you people do it? You fight one another like rutting rams. Well, sir, I will fight you for her."
Arnbjorn sneered at him. "To the death?"
Valentius's blood was fired with lust for the girl, ambition, and snowberry brandy. The fellow was big, like all Nords, but big simply meant slow. Most likely he was ignorant and entirely untrained as well. It'd be a matter of a few moments and he'd run this brute through. "To the death," he said, agreeing.
"Captain Valentius…". Another Imperial soldier got up and spoke quietly to him. "Do you think this is wise? You've been drinking."
Valentius looked at the other soldier coolly. "Come, Lieutenant, the man is a farmer. I hardly think there's any cause for concern." He drew his sword. "Be my second, Casius."
Casius shrugged and nodded. "All right. Killing him now just means one less for Ulfric to recruit."
Arnbjorn snarled. "Come on, Imperial. Let's get on with it." He drew his axe off his back. He glanced quickly at Nessa and saw her cowering at the edge of the inn, shooting meaningful looks at the captain she'd been kissing. She was playing her part well.
"Not inside! Good sirs, please. I implore you, take your fight out of doors." The innkeeper rushed up, nearly interposing himself between the combatants, but decided against it when he saw the furious snarl on Arnbjorn's face and the cold, fury on the captain's.
The captain gestured at the soldier's standing, ready to seize the Nord at his command. "You men, bring torches. I'll put this savage down outside." He turned his back on Arnbjorn, showing his disregard for the Nord, and strode outside and stood in the middle of a clear area. He cut through the air a few times with his sword and limbered up.
Arnbjorn came next. Valentius noticed his lumbering, brutish gait and the inexpert way he seemed to carry his axe. He was a rube, indeed. A half dozen of his countrymen followed, and Casius, all holding torches so they could see well enough to fight. Even so, the moon was up high enough to light their way well enough. Finally, Nessa came out of the inn and stood by the door. Valentius smiled at her. She'd surely be grateful when he dispatched her husband. This night was turning out better than he'd hoped, all things considered. She clasped her hands together and he could see her lips move in a prayer. How sweetly pious she is.
May your gods take you, Valentius. May Talos guide you to victory, Arnbjorn, she whispered to the gods, should they be listening.
"Are you ready, Nord?" the captain asked, standing with one hand on his hip and his sword in a neutral position before him.
The Nord growled something under his breath and for a moment the captain believed he saw a strange gleaming in the man's eyes. A trick of the light, he reassured himself.
"I am ready," Arnbjorn said.
"We fight!" Captain Valentius snapped his sword into the classic ready stance and slowly circled the Nord.
Arnbjorn made a scuffling feint with his feet and a low growl in his through. The Imperial overreacted, jumping back. He watched the ridiculous man with the skinny sword and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing. He pulled his axe back to the side and waited for the man. As he predicted, the Imperial tried to charge Arnbjorn, but the assassin quickly reversed his grip and with the hilt of the weapon blocked the attack.
"Well done," Valentius said. He danced out of the way as Arnbjorn cleaved the space where he had been standing a moment ago.
"Save your compliments for your gods, Imperial. You'll be meeting them tonight," Arnbjorn replied. He rushed at the captain and his axe met the sword as the captain tried to lunge at him. His axe swung up, catching the sword, and nearly pulling it from the man's grip, but the captain retreated a few steps and got his sword free. The Imperial was looking a little shaken by the attack.
Valentius was beginning to sweat and his breath was coming hard. This was not going as it should. How could a simple farmer move so quickly?
Arnbjorn saw the question and worry forming in the man's face. He needed to end this fight quickly before the captain voiced his objections. He moved again, a feint, but the captain over responded and slashed the air. It gave Arnbjorn enough time to slash midlevel. The Imperial failed to move quickly enough and the axe cut across his ribs.
Captain Valentius dropped his sword and looked down at his midsection in disbelief. He didn't have time to ponder his demise because Arnbjorn returned from that swing with another. This one connected with his neck and the captain's head rolled neatly from his shoulders, his body crumbling to the ground shortly after.
Nessa gave a little horrified scream. Oh gods, why did he have to behead him? Her own neck ached in sympathy for the dead captain and the horror of Helgen closed in around her. Her display of horror at seeing a beheading just lent reality to the little part she needed to play.
Some of the Imperial soldiers gasped in horror as the captain died. A few went for their weapons, but Casius, the captain's second, held his hand up to them. "No men. It was fought fairly."
Some of the men protested, but none defied the lieutenant.
Glaring around him, waiting for someone to move on him, Arnbjorn paused a few moments before striding to the inn and grasping Nessa roughly by the arm. He whistled loudly and Shadowmere came galloping from out of the dark. He mounted Shadowmere and pulled her up roughly in front of him.
Arnbjorn had a tight hold on her, which was good as she felt quite wobbly. They thundered down the main road through Rorickstead, Shadowmere's feet loud against the hard packed road, but no one came after them. Just as they cleared the edge of the village she moaned. "Pull over, Arnbjorn!"
"What is it?" he asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak.
He barely got the horse stopped when she slithered off and ran to the edge of the road and vomited. The snowberry wine and the dinner came back up.
Arnbjorn ran after her and held back her braids as she threw up again. "You're sick? What's wrong?"
Feeling better after the second heave of her stomach she pulled herself upright and wobbled again, the world twisted around her. "Too much snowberry brandy and… Oh gods, you took his head off." The memory of his head rolling off his shoulders… the head with the mouth she'd just been kissing… She bent double, anticipating the need to vomit again, but nothing came up this time.
Arnbjorn stared at her, a look of bemusement growing on his expression. "Don't tell me you liked him?" The smell of snowberries assaulted Arnbjorn. "Gods, are you drunk, girl?"
She straightened up again and lurched against him, grabbing his grubby farmer's shirt with her hands to steady herself. "He kept making me drink it." She scowled up at her assassin brother and made a stern face like the Imperial. "Make your countrymen proud, Nessa, drink the whole thing," she said, mimicking the Imperial.
"Ah… I wish I had seen that," Arnbjorn said, wrapping an arm around Nessa to keep her steady. "You definitely seemed to be enjoying that kiss I interrupted." He laughed heartily. "The look on your face when I slammed open the door! It was certainly authentic." He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "Well, done, bit. Sadly we can't stop in Rorickstead and enjoy their warm hospitality. There's a lady there that makes the best lamprey pies. We'll go on a little further tonight. There's an abandoned mine we can stay in." He gave her a skin of water so she could wash her mouth out.
"Good," Nessa said. "I don't think I can ride much further." She filled her mouth with water then spit it out.
Arnbjorn helped her back onto Shadowmere, more gently this time. He could see the outline of his hand on her cheek and he laid a finger against it carefully. "I'm sorry about that, tidbit. I had to make it look real."
She sighed and shook her head. "I know. I'll try some healing magic on it tomorrow, otherwise it's going to leave an ugly bruise."
Arnbjorn kicked Shadowmere into a comfortable canter and they rode for several more miles. Nessa dozed off, leaning against him. He held her tightly with one arm while the other arm held Shadowmere's reins. He woke her gently when they finally reached the mine. "We're here, morsel."
The world was still spinning as she slid off the horse. Her legs tangled under her and she fell into the dust on her behind. "Oof! I can't stand."
Arnbjorn laughed at her. "Serves you right for getting drunk. An assassin shouldn't get drunk on the job. Get up and find some torches so we can see our way into the mine."
Nessa got to her feet unsteadily. "You're still a mean, rude woof," she shot back at him. "Laughing at me. Shouldn't do that. Ordering me…." Her voice trailed off in a grumble. She tried to open the pack still strapped to Shadowmere, but her fingers couldn't figure out the fastening. "Blasted woof!" she cursed at him. "You did something to these packs. I can't open them now."
Tugging the saddle off the horse, Arnbjorn laughed at her. "You're too drunk, bit. Go sit, I'll find them."
"I'm not!" Arnbjorn was definitely getting on her nerves. Always barking orders at her and telling her she was doing everything wrong. She pushed herself away from the horse and stumbled over to him, ready to meet his rudeness head-on. "I won't have it any more." She jammed a finger into his chest and poked him repeatedly. "You're not to laugh at me or give me orders or… or… kiss me!"
Arnbjorn's brows rose with surprise as she delivered a drunken tongue-lashing. "All right," he said his voice calm and agreeable. "If you insist, I will kiss you." He pulled her to him and kissed her. She melted against him, her arms fastened around his neck and she pulled him to her hard. There was none of the shy hesitancy she'd always displayed before. The snowberry brandy seemed to have dissolved it. She pressed against him and her mouth opened, her tongue exploring his mouth. His hand skimmed down her back, feeling the way her body bent and curved sleekly, until it reached her bottom. He splayed his hand and cupped her sweet firm behind with one big hand. She moaned and shifted against him, as if trying to eliminate the last few fractions of an inch separating them.
"Whoa, bit," he said as her own hand began to snake its way under his shirt. He held her at arm's length and watched her features change from half-lidded sensuality to anger. "You're drunk." He abruptly turned away from her and went back to unloading Shadowmere.
"I'm…," she sputtered angrily, "I'm… Oh, that's just fine for you, isn't it?" She followed him around the horse and gave him an angry push, but that only made him chuckle. "You kiss me just so you can laugh at me, don't you? You think I'll fall for you and then you can toss me away." She shoved him again. "Maybe then the annoying girl who loves your wife will leave. That's what you want, isn't it?"
He caught her arms before she could shove him again. "No, Nessa, it isn't what I want." He sighed with exasperation. Nessa was apparently a belligerent drunk. "I don't want you to leave. I just don't want you to wake up in the morning regretting what you did while you were drunk… if you even remember it at all."
She pushed at him again, not convinced. He was beginning to get annoyed with her. "Bit! Settle down. I need to get our stuff." He grabbed her arms so she couldn't push him again. "Be a good girl and sit."
She slid out of his grasp and sat abruptly in the dust. "Sit down. You're drunk," she said, echoing his orders. It did feel good to sit. The world spun a little less violently. Lying down would be even better. She toppled over and pressed her cheek against the dirt. Better…
"Careful, boy, she's right underneath you." Arnbjorn wasn't too worried about Nessa passing out under the horse. He trusted that the horse wouldn't trample her or piss on her. "Just as well," he said to the horse. The horse bobbed his head as if agreeing that Nessa was an annoying drunk. He went back to unloading the horse and finally found the torches. He lit one and began carrying their gear into the mine. There was a door at the entrance to the mine, but he had the lock open in a matter of moments. He setup a little camp for them and started a fire. Next he went out to bring Nessa in.
She was still unconscious and Shadowmere was standing guard over her when he went out. The horse moved politely out of the way as Arnbjorn gathered her up and carried her into the mine. She woke up enough to say something unintelligible as he laid her out on her bedroll and pulled her dress off. He carefully took off her boots and woolen stockings. He considered for a moment, and then stripped off her small clothes. It couldn't be comfortable sleeping in them, he reasoned. He slept in the nude and so did Astrid.
He stood up and gazed down at her, wondering about the conversation they'd certainly have tomorrow. He could turn into a wolf and sleep on the floor next to her. Or he could ensure their conversation was even more interesting…
He grinned slyly and stripped his clothes off and lay down on the bedroll next to her. He laughed to himself and closed his eyes.
~o~o~o~
Notes: Sorry to leave it there. I really, really wanted to post something by today and I didn't want to hurry through the next part because it's going to be important. So, better to leave it here where an infinite number of possibilities can traipse through your minds. Hopefully I can update soon and at least resolve this. I'm also going to push this chapter out woefully unproofed. Otherwise I have to let it go another day or more.
My thanks to those of you that review! I really look forward to feedback of any sort. I also thank Biff and Zevgirl for their wonderful support and good humor.
A bit of a spoiler for those who haven't played yet: There's a reference to events in the game that take place before this story. Skyrim starts with your character, in this case Nessa, being carted to the village of Helgen by Imperials. She's been caught up in an ambush with Nord rebels including Ulfric, their leader. Presumably in your character's case, it has been a mistake but they don't much care. They're going to execute you regardless. The prisoners are unloaded and being beheaded one by one. Your character is laying his/her head on the chopping block ready to die when a dragon swoops down on the village. At that point you get to escape and start on your journey.
Anyway, this is the reason Nessa gets upset – who wouldn't? – when she sees a beheading. She's perfectly fine with killing in almost every other way, but beheading really gets to her. Plus, it would squick out almost anyone to think the guy you were just macking on had his head rolling around on the ground. At least, that was going through my mind.