Accidents Happen

Kharnis

"I'm...not sure a healer will be able to help her, my lord."

Hrothgar rolled his eyes and sighed as he pulled the front of his robe over his belly, taking two attempts to tie it closed. Hmmm. I'll have to punish the washwench. She's shrunk my robe again.

"I didn't call you in here to fetch a healer," he said to the guard kneeling over the still body of the chambermaid. "Get rid of her. The usual. Find some place her body won't raise any questions."

The guard stood slowly, shaking his head.

"The slums are lawless, true, my lord. But even that place has limits. Too many bodies show up, and even the city watch will start to ask questions."

"Then find some other place to dump her. A cave, or some hole in the ground. Throw her in the canal, or go find some werewolves and feed her to them. I don't care. That's what you're for. Just get rid of her."

Hrothgar shook his head as the guard picked up the maid's body and carried it out of his chambers. He didn't know what was happening with the Nord women in Riften, but they were definitely of a far inferior stock than what he was used to in Solitude. How did they get so weak here? They break too easily.

Hrothgar sighed heavily again. He wasn't even sure why everyone here made such a big deal of it. Accidents happen. Everyone knew that. And it wasn't like they were important people, anyway. They were barely above the slatterns he bought in Solitude, and certainly weren't as skilled. And more importantly, no one cared all that much that a slattern was beaten a bit, and everyone knew that if one ended up expiring, well, accidents happen.

What's wrong with society today? he thought as he poured himself a full tankard of wine. It's like the fire in the hearts of Nords went out when the Dragon Fires did. We've become weak, and soft. We've become bloody Bretons, or worse: Altmer!

"I swear to the Divines, I'm the last of the true Nords, Wellig," Hrothgar bellowed at the guard when he returned ten minutes later.

"So you have said before, my lord," Wellig said, the sour look on his face betraying his self-disgust at the painful truth.

"And so I will keep saying, until this house realises the true worth of our blood. Now, I take it you've taken care of the disposal?"

Wellig nodded glumly.

"We will keep her in the wine cellar until evening, my lord. When it's dark enough, we'll put her in a sack weighed with stones and put her in the canal."

Hrothgar nodded as he took a drink of his wine, some of it dribbling down his chin and onto his chest.

"Good," he said. "Maybe the fish'll take care of her for us."

"She deserves a proper funeral, my lord."

Hrothgar choked on his wine at that.

"A proper funeral? You make me laugh, Wellig. That's why I keep you around. A proper funeral is reserved for true Nords, not mongrels like her. I think she was part Redguard, what with that darkish skin."

"We're courting disaster, my lord. Should one decide to return and haunt us..."

"That would require a will that none of these wenches possess. If they had, they wouldn't break so easily. You begin to bore me, Wellig. Begone, and start your search for a new chambermaid. A man of my stature shouldn't be without a full compliment of help."

"As you wish. My lord."

Wellig inclined his head, but Hrothgar had already forgotten about him as he drained his tankard dry. Perhaps I should have some sort of standard implemented, he thought. Only full blooded Nords to work for me. It'll be hard to determine, to be sure. These peasants couple like wild animals with each other and anything else that comes along. I wouldn't be surprised if some did couple with animals.

Sadly, time waited for no man, not even a true Nord. Business needed to be conducted, and could not be put off while he searched for yet another worker. Riften depended on his wine imports, and Hrothgar would be damned before he allowed the city to go without due to his personal difficulties. Granted, he would have to dress himself, now that the girl was dead, but truth be told, it wasn't as large a problem as it could have been. She was never very good at dressing him properly anyway, and constantly made excuses for her poor skills by claiming she was "only a chambermaid." What use was she, then? Even a Khajiit could clean his chambers; he demanded more of his servants. They were Nords, damn it. Why can't they perform tasks better than the rest of the world?

Right on time, he opened his shop, and welcomed the first customer of the day. He didn't conduct as much business in Riften as he did in Solitude, but that was all for the good. Anyone could make money in Solitude; it was a sign of the Jarl's faith and confidence in Hrothgar that the Jarl ordered him to Riften to conduct his business. Hrothgar was bound and determined to show these backward provincials in Riften how to conduct business, and bring honour to Solitude while doing it. The Jarl was always a shrewd man, and a subtle tweaking of the nose of Riften's Jarl was a fabulous way to prove the superiority of the Nords of the west without openly insulting anyone.

Finding a replacement for the chambermaid proved to be more difficult than he'd anticipated, though. Despite the number of layabouts wandering the alleys of Riften, Wellig couldn't find anyone who was worthy enough to become a part of Hrothgar's household. On the one hand, this was most irksome. Hrothgar was a true Nord, but while he was capable of doing simple things for himself, a man of his stature shouldn't have to. What was the point of wealth and status if he continued to perform tasks better suited for lessers? On the other hand, though, it only proved what he suspected. The Nords were becoming a weak people if there hasn't been even one woman who could measure up to his standards. The mixing of the people were diluting the Nord resolve and strength, and that saddened Hrothgar. He wasn't even sure it was possible to reverse the trend anymore.

Despite his awareness of the difficulties in finding a suitable replacement, that didn't prevent him from occasionally losing control of himself and giving in to the disgust and anger at the weakness of the people of Riften. Fortunately, he had other wenches of hardier stock than the former chambermaid; the washerwoman, for instance, was definitely a stronger woman. If she were more fair she would've easily become Hrothgar's newest favourite. Unfortunately for her, she was also of lesser Nord stock, for she was also incapable of meeting Hrothgar's demanding standards. Still, Hrothgar appreciated her stamina, and allowed her a full day to recover enough before putting her back to work.

But, as much as this was a good way to sate his frustration, it was only a temporary measure. If Hrothgar didn't find someone soon, he would have to look outside of Riften for a replacement. He could imagine that his customers were starting to look upon him with pity, no doubt followed soon by disdain, over the fact that someone of his wealth and importance couldn't even find someone to work for him.

"How can this be possible?" he ranted at Wellig as they made their way towards the docks to claim the latest shipment of wine from Valenwood. "It's been four months. Are you seriously trying to tell me that no one is needing work in this city?"

"Many people need work, my lord," Wellig said, motioning for someone to clear out of Hrothgar's way. "I could not, in good consience, bring them into your employ. They...they simply weren't good enough."

Hrothgar smiled widely, clapping his guard on the shoulder.

"I knew you had Nord blood in you after all, Wellig. You're a good man. The man I hired to look for a replacement while you were delivering my missive to the Jarl was less than useless. Why, he actually tried to bring an Argonian into my home. I don't think I could operate without you, Wellig."

Wellig smiled tightly, knowing that he didn't quite deserve the praise, but having the good grace not to contradict his better.

"There may be a solution, my lord. I know it's unusual, but there's a travelling circus due in town in the next few days."

"So I've heard," Hrothgar snorted, just before barely keeping himself from stepping in a pile of horse droppings. "Gah! Why would anyone just let this lay here? Where are the cleaners?"

"There may be someone within the group who we can hire away. I know it's going to be someone from outside the city, but that may work to our advantage. She won't be tainted by...um, fears that she couldn't measure up to your standards. My lord."

"Very good thinking, Wellig. Although I'm not holding out much hope. These travelling vagabonds rarely have any useful abilities."

Wellig smiled, a tight one that betrayed his dismay at Hrothgar's wisdom.

"You may very well be right, my lord. But even if we can't find someone to hire, perhaps the show itself will be a welcome diversion for you."

"I doubt that. Any troupe that travels in this part of Skyrim is obviously of little importance or renown."

"This one may be different. It's a new troupe, and I have heard from others that they have a new attraction. A dancer. They say she could charm a rabid dog and tempt even the most chaste of priests."

Hrothgar snorted as they arrived at the ship carrying his latest shipment.

"They always say that about the dancers," he said. "What's so special about this one?"

"She's Dunmer, my lord."

Hrothgar stopped, genuinely surprised.

"Really?"

"They say that she is still young, and not so renowned yet, but that will change. Some have said that several Houses of Dibella have begged her to join them after watching her perform."

"A Dunmer, you say?" The possibilities ran through Hrothgar's mind like a herd of stampeding wild horses. "Perhaps you're right, Wellig. Perhaps I do need a distraction. I've been working very hard lately."

"I think it would be the best, my lord."

The next few days went by agonisingly slowly. Hrothgar tried to keep himself as busy as possible to keep his anticipation and eagerness down, but it was hard to do so. Everyone knew what the Dunmer women were like. Their reputation of leaving both men and women speechless with their prowess in bed was legendary. Hrothgar had never had a Dunmer woman before, but he was determined that this would change this week. The things he could imagine she could do, and that he would do to her, put a bounce in his step and a determination to perfect his technique before she arrived. He had to admit, he may have been more forceful with the washerwoman than was normal, but he knew what these Dunmer were like. They were made to experience what Hrothgar liked.

When the day finally arrived, Hrothgar could barely contain himself. He, along with a good number of the people of Riften, lined the streets to welcome the troupe to the city. He had hoped to see this dancer, but the wagon she was in remained maddeningly closed. That didn't prevent him from feeling as giddy as a boy when he saw the curtain behind a side window part, and a shadow look out as it passed by him.

"Did you see that, Wellig? She looked right at me. I'm sure of it."

"As you say, my lord. Perhaps word of your presence has reached her ears."

Hrothgar grinned widely.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised, Wellig. I would meet with her. Tonight. Arrange it."

Wellig grimaced, but nodded.

"It might prove difficult, my lord, but I'll do what I can."

"I'll accept no excuses. I will meet with her, even if I have to buy the whole bloody circus to do it."

"As you say. My lord."

The troupe's first show opened at precisely sundown. Every seat in the square was filled with citizens, and Hrothgar was there in the front centre row.

"So where is this dancer?" he growled to Wellig after an hour of the usual acrobatics and singing.

"She comes at the end, my lord."

Hrothgar could appreciate the business practice behind it. After all, why give the customers the best part of the service right away when you can milk them for more? That didn't mean he didn't personally resent the blatant manipulation. Bring out the damn wench already!

Even Hrothgar had to admit, the wait was effective. When the ringmaster approached the empty stage, the entire crowd leaned forward in eager anticipation, Hrothgar the most eager.

"We come to our main attraction," the ringmaster announced. "You have all heard of her, and you have all waited patiently. Wait no more, my friends! From the wild lands of Morrowind, from the untamed Houses of the Dunmer, I present to you: Llennis the Dark Temptress!"

All the fires went out, save those by the stage, as the musicians struck up an alien song. Hrothgar could see the curtains at the back of the stage stir, and then a single bare leg appeared. Hrothgar's heart began pounding as he watched the leg lift off the stagefloor, stretch out so that the toes pointed perfectly forward, and then slowly lower itself back down. All at once, the curtains were ripped back, and a gasp came from the crowd. Hrothgar stared in awe at the most breathtaking creature he'd seen in a long time.

Despite the cool night, she was dressed only in thin gauze that flowed like smoke with her movements. She slowly strutted to the middle of the stage, every movement oozing pure sensuality. Hrothgar's breathing quickened just watching her move like an exotic wild animal, his eyes unable to be torn away from her hips as they swayed with every step she took. As the music increased in tempo, she began to twirl, and undulate, and gyrate, moving faster and faster as the music did, until she was a blur of long whipping hair and thin material. Hrothgar's mouth watered as he watched, and when she finished with her leg extended above her head and held there perfectly in balance, he knew then and there that he had to have her. Such balance! Such flexibility! Such possibilities!

"I must have her," he shouted above the cheering and applause of the audience. "Tonight. Now. Arrange it, Wellig. I will accept no excuses."

"I'll see what I can do, my lord."

There could be no other acceptable outcome, and fortunately for Wellig, he was able to arrange it. When the crowd had dispersed, and all the performers were settled in for the night, Wellig escorted Hrothgar to the wagon he observed earlier in the day. His head swam as he saw a shadow pass behind the closed curtains of the window on the side. Wellig knocked lightly on the door, and it was all Hrothgar could do to keep from bodily throwing Wellig out of the way when the door opened.

"I present to you, Hrothgar the Lofty, the most successful vintner in Riften" Wellig said. "My lord, Llennis, the Dark Temptress."

"It isn't often I receive visitors who live up to the name 'the Lofty,'" a smoky voice said from the doorway.

"I more than live up to my name," Hrothgar said, his body practically quivering.

"So I can see. Most merchants are called 'my lord' by their workers only because he ordered them to do so."

Llennis peered around the door to look at Hrothgar, a mysterious smile on her face. There is no doubt this wench knows my influence. She's an ambitious one. What a refreshing change!

"My workers know a powerful man when they see one," he said. "As do you, I see. Leave us, Wellig."

"As you wish. My lord."

Wellig bowed his head to both Hrothgar and Llennis (though he did incline it lower to the wench. Not that Hrothgar could blame the lad for trying to look more closely at the wench's chest) and departed, leaving Hrothgar alone with the elf.

"Your man Wellig is a good man," Llennis said when the sound of Wellig's footsteps faded away. "He certainly went to a lot of effort to contact me. His loyalty to the people he protects is something increasingly rare."

"Wellig is well aware that his success is tied to my well-being. As well as my happiness."

Llennis chuckled, and Hrothgar could swear he physically felt it echo through his body.

"And is that why you're here, 'my lord?' For your happiness?"

"My happiness, and more. I would have you. For tonight, and tomorrow, and next month, and beyond."

Llennis' eyes half closed, her lips parting to reveal perfect white teeth.

"You would have me come work for you?" she asked. "And what would I be for you?"

"Anything you wished to be. I don't care what it is."

"This is a very tempting offer, my lord, but I have to admit to some concern. I've heard stories that women who work for you tend to end up leaving your service rather abruptly."

Hrothgar felt his face flush as he looked down at the ground.

"I'm a healthy man, with healthy appetites," he said, shrugging. "Unfortunately, some of the women...well, not all are strong, and accidents do happen."

"So they do. Perhaps we should conduct our...negotiations inside."

Most assuredly. And like all negotiations, I will insist on a sampling of the wares before I buy.

Llennis stepped back from the doorway, and Hrothgar climbed the three steps inside, sealing the door behind him. His breath came as if he had just run all the way home as he drank in the full form of her, so tantalisingly near. She hadn't even changed out of her dancing outfit yet, but she had opened the front of her top, the cloth lazily moving from the breeze that had come from the now closed doorway, giving a teasing glimpse of the treasures beneath. He prayed to the Divines for that breeze to last longer, and be slightly stronger.

"Why, my lord," she said, taking a step backwards and a hand lightly touching the hollow of her throat. "I can assure you I mean you no harm. There's no need for you to brandish a dagger at me."

"What? What are you talking about? I'm not armed."

"Is that so?" Her eyes flicked down and then back to Hrothgar's face. "I do apologise. I simply assumed that could only be a weapon I saw."

Hrothgar grinned widely.

"A mere hint of some of the reward in store for you, once our negotiations are concluded."

"So I see." Llennis turned her back to him, pouring two goblets full of wine. "And speaking of rewards and negotiations, perhaps we should begin with the obvious. My wages."

"Enough to keep you in all the silk and jewelry and finery a wench such as you deserves to be in," Hrothgar said as he accepted a goblet from her. "When you go out into the town, there will be no doubts that you are mine."

Llennis took a sip, her unblinking red eyes burning into him like the embers they resembled.

"A very generous offer. And do you pay all your workers this handsomely?"

"I pay my servants what they're worth, if not slightly more. Those who are willing to do more are paid more."

"And are they paid well?"

"They are capable enough that they can occasionally buy something of some value. If they save their coins wisely."

"Or if they pool their resources. You'd be surprised what services can be bought if enough people agree to pay together."

Oh, you're a subtle one, aren't you? Trying to increase your allowance at the expense of theirs. You're dealing with a master at this game, though, wench.

"I need to know what skills you possess before I name a price," he said after draining the last of the wine.

Llennis chuckled again as she stepped closer to refill his goblet. Hrothgar closed his eyes as he breathed in deep her scent.

"I possess a great number of skills, my lord. Dancing, obviously. Singing, though I don't sing as well as I dance. An extensive knowledge of herbs, and the proper combination of them for the desired effect. Among...other skills."

He knew he was drinking far more than was wise, and the slight swimming in his head told him that. But he'd been drunk before, and knew how much it took to get him there. No, this effect was almost entirely from the wanton creature before him, and he knew that she would be worth whatever price they agreed on.

"And how long have you possessed these skills?"

"Since I was a child. This shocks you, my lord? Not all childhoods are happy ones."

By the Divines, this is perfect! A childhood of depravity inflicted upon her only played into his hands. She'd be that much more willing to give up the life she had now to live one as a noble, even if it was only a pretend life. Her price was going down.

"Then it seems to me that you should be compensated for your sad childhood. Free room and board, and enough of a stipend to allow you to shop at the finest shops in Riften on a monthly basis. With bonuses depending on your performance, of course."

Llennis smiled and held forth a strawberry.

"I believe we can come to an arrangement, my lord."

Hrothgar opened his mouth, letting her place the strawberry in it. He closed his lips around her finger, his heart pounding even harder as she slowly withdrew it.

"There is one further requirement," he said as he chewed what was possibly the most delicious strawberry he'd ever tasted. "You'll have to change your name. Even I can't be associated with someone who's a known travelling dancer, no matter how talented she is."

Llennis laughed.

"That won't be a problem," she said. "Llennis isn't my real name. It's more of a...stage name, you could say."

"And what is your real name?"

She smiled, and for the first time Hrothgar understood what a mouse felt when a cat smiled at it.

"Lanica."

Hrothgar swallowed hard, and had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"I much prefer this name."

"As do I."

Lanica took a step towards him, and Hrothgar's prayers were answered as her top fluttered off of her to land on the floor behind her. His breath came in short gasps as he drank her in. I haven't been this affected by a woman since I was a boy. You were named well, my pet. You are a Dark Temptress.

"Shall I tell you a story, my lord? One to, shall we say, prepare you for what's to come?"

Hrothgar tried to speak, but no words came out. He settled for nodding. Am I actually drooling? I didn't know how desperately I've been waiting for a woman like this!

"Everyone knows that the Houses of Dibella are renowned for their skills," she said as she slowly straddled his lap. "But few people know that the Houses have skills and knowledge that go beyond what is well known. Oh, the Disciples of Dibella are very friendly, and very eager to pass on their knowledge to anyone who is friendly to them in return."

She shifted forward on his lap ever so slightly, arching her back somewhat to bring her chest within inches of his face. Hrothgar couldn't take his eyes off of them, the pounding of his heart nearly painful.

"And, oh I was very friendly to them," she continued. "And why wouldn't I be? They're a very friendly group, and so eager to save someone as angry as I was. And so, they taught me a number of wonderful and useful skills. Such as subtlety. And patience. And, most importantly for you, an extensive knowledge of elixers and potions that only they are capable of creating."

Lanica leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear.

"Why don't you take a guess as to what some of these potions and elixers do?"

Hrothgar could barely get a breath into him to speak. It took him three tries, and to his horror found he couldn't form any words. What's happening to me?

"No guess, my lord? It's not surprising. After all, it's not very well known what they do. Besides the obvious, well-known activities, of course. They have a wide variety of such potions like aphrodesiacs, each with a differing effect. But there's one elixer..."

She traced a fingertip down his face to under his chin, then forced his head up so he looked into her eyes.

"One is very potent, and mostly tasteless. But does it ever bring out the flavour in wine, or food. And was that not very good wine you had, my lord? It was very expensive, of course, and normally I wouldn't waste it on someone like you, but your man Wellig made such a compelling case that I feel the expense was worth it."

Lanica grinned and tweaked his nose.

"You should feel some gratitude towards him," she said. "Normally, I'd just take a dagger to you and leave you to bleed out into the street. In fact, I'd ensure that any trace of your so-called manhood was removed. But, Wellig convinced me that, as unlikely as it was, there was a possibility of someone caring that you died. A family member, perhaps, who might feel the need to avenge you. Out of honour, if nothing else. He noted that the women in your service had suffered enough, and they didn't need to suffer any more."

Hrothgar could barely feel when she stood up off of him. He tried to rise, but every movement he made sent blinding jolts of pain through his chest and stomach. Poison? But how?

"You look puzzled, my lord. Oh! You're wondering how it's possible that I managed to poison you when I drank the wine, too. It's actually quite a clever elixer. They made it specifically to keep people who are, oh how shall I put this, aggressive from causing harm within the Houses. Believe it or not, there are some who get pleasure only by inflicting pain. The Houses don't like bloodshed within their walls, so they developed this particular elixer. They say that Dibella herself blesses it."

Lanica shrugged.

"They may even be right. You see, the poison only works when the person who has taken it has one specific emotion: desire."

Lanica laughed and stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers.

"And my, you certainly did desire me, didn't you? Can you guess why it's not affecting me? It should be obvious. I, in no way, desired you."

I've got to get help! I've got to get to a healer!

Despite the crippling pain, Hrothgar managed to flop himself out of the chair and onto the floor. But when he tried to crawl to the door, all the strength left him.

"I do like the irony," Lanica said from behind him. "After all, should I have killed you like I wanted to, there would be questions, even if only half-hearted ones. That might have led to awkward answers. But this way? Oh, you were quite obvious in your desire for me. Everyone who sat around you could tell that. And your, how did you put it, appetites, are also well known. No one will question the fact that your heart gave out while with a Dunmer as flexible and energetic as I am. My reputation will actually go up in this town, thanks to you. I'll be known as the Dunmer who is so skilled she can actually kill a man in bed. But you?"

Lanica leaned down to whisper in his ear again.

"When they think of you at all, they'll shrug and say, 'accidents happen.'"

Icy

This, this is great!