Madness Helps Me Save Myself Options

[Jacki Dice]

Hello again. Thank you all for reading my previous thread, Champion of Madness. As I posted before, I felt the story was in need of a lot of work. First off, titles are one of my weakest points. I have to admit, it took me hours to come up with "Champion of Madness" (sad, I know) but it just didn't feel right, not to mention the fact that it didn't work with the upcoming Oblivion Crisis. Other than that, there were characters issues, plot holes, and world building issues that I felt could only be dealt with by starting fresh, with a better idea of where I was going.

That said, I'd like to welcome you to the revamped version. I hope you all enjoy it ♥

PS....I made a typo in the title... I sure feel silly now -_- Please ignore it.

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Prologue

Wrothken didn't even flinch as a deafening roar erupted from the arena. He remained in his seat at the bar, his head slumped over a cup of tea that had long since gotten cold. He sat listening to the dull buzz of quiet conversations, his ears searching for specific words. He knew he shouldn't. If he happened to overhear something that he didn't want to hear it would send him into an even deeper pit of despair or rage, like when that jerk the other night asked Kirsty if Wrothken's "Uncle Flo" had been in town. Wrothken knew what that implied as did the rest of the bakery. And many people found it hilarious up until Wrothken nearly beat that man to death with a chair.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

He could tell Kirsty was right in front of him. He could smell lavender lingering under the scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, and ham. He heard her sigh softly. He knew she wanted to help. She even tried getting him rip roaring drunk and then taking him to a brothel. Oh, what a fiasco that had been. The drink only magnified his sorrow, causing him to bawl like a baby in the middle of the street and then once he was with the working girl his body wouldn't cooperate, no matter what she did. Though she had shrugged it off, claiming to have seen that a thousand times, it wasn’t exactly something that a man ever quite lived down, drunk or not.

Kirsty sighed again. "You're only letting them win."

Wrothken raised his head slightly. Behind his curtain of Bravil-water blond hair, he saw her tiny hands holding a large knife and slicing up some ham. He brushed the hair from his face and looked up all the way. She was such a mess, but cute in a way. When she opened up that morning she had been wearing a nice, clean turquoise blouse. Now, even though she wore an apron, it was covered in white and brown powder. Her dark brown hair wasn't long enough to braid, so she wore it in a simple ponytail, though as the day went by the short locks that were once bangs escaped. Her cool brown eyes were on the meat, though she occasionally glanced up at Wrothken.

Wrothken stared at the ham. Its scent was suddenly the most captivating thing in the world and his stomach announced it loudly.

"What was that?" Kirsty asked, setting the knife down. The bright blush across his face told her the answer. "What have you eaten today?"

Wrothken shrugged. He hadn't been feeling hungry lately but when he had, the thought of food sickened him. The very act of chewing and swallowing seemed like just too much effort.

Kirsty huffed and set a cinnamon apple muffin in front of him. The crumbly top beckoned him, the sweetness he knew he would find seducing him. Yet the thought of eating turned his mouth sour. Still, if he didn't eat it, Kirsty would probably jump over the counter and shove it down his throat. He bit into it, trying to catch the crumbles before they hit the floor.

"That's better," she said, continuing to chop up the ham. "You look like you've lost weight actually."

Wrothken grunted. Atrea had been pestering him to lose weight for years. He was broad-shouldered and a bit "snuggly," as Kirsty put it. It was almost funny how the pounds began to shed after he caught his intended in bed with another man. A thigh slapper really.

"Great," he finally said. "Now if I could just lose all my body hair, maybe I could win her back."

Kirsty crinkled her nose. "No, don't do that. That's just...weird. Have you ever seen a hairless Nord? It would look off and I bet you’d hate the feeling. And besides," she looked at him, wagging her knife as she spoke. "If you take that girl back, so help me, Wrothken, I will beat you with my rolling pin until the sense comes back in your head."

He believed her. She didn't like Atrea much before but now it was full on hate. The feeling was mutual. Not that she ever admitted it, but he knew Atrea was insanely jealous of Kirsty. He didn’t think she should have been, but he could understand why. Kirsty built herself up from a grape picker for Tamika to a little pastry cart by the markets to an upscale bakery. She was as strong, persistent, and smart as she was beautiful, and Wrothken happened to work late with her most nights. Not that anything happened. He had honor. He was faithful.

"Have you given any thought to my idea?" She asked.

He had, but he didn't really want to go through with it. "I won't run away," he said quietly. He would rather drop dead than give them the satisfaction of knowing they ran him out of town, tail between his legs.

"I never said to run away," Kirsty said. She glanced back at an hourglass atop the oven. The pink sand was almost all the way at the bottom. She swore under her breath and began chopping faster. "I said take a break. Go on a trip for a while to help clear your head. Maybe meet some new people while you're at it."

"But they'll think I ran away!" He protested. He could imagine them laughing about it after a good romp in the sack. His stomach churned at the thought.

Kirsty set her knife down again, exasperatedly saying, "Who gives a flying guar what they think? They aren’t worth the filth under your boots. Why are you going to let them control your well-being?" She chopped furiously. "Do you really think it’s healthy to just hang around here forever? Or avoid places because you're afraid to run into them?"

She had a point. Kirsty always had a point and she would nag and push and prod until the point was not only seen, but agreed with.

"Where would I even go?"

"Well," she looked at the hourglass. It was empty. She opened the oven and pulled out a batch of flaky croissants. "You're from Bruma. Why not start there?"

Wrothken's slapped the counter. "I'd sooner hunt mudcrabs while skyclad!"

Kirsty laughed a bit.

"I'm serious!" Wrothken said, shoving the rest of the muffin in his mouth. "If I set foot there, my ma will bludgeon me with 'I-told-you-so' until my ears bleed! No way am I going back there like this!"

"Okay," Kirsty said taking out a bread knife. She took each croissant and cut it in half before slathering on creamy butter. "How about the Imperial City? There's lots to offer there. In fact, I'd like to move there one day..." She trailed off for a moment as a slight smile grew on her lips.

He agreed on that point. The Imperial City was the center of everything. A man could make his fortune there just as easily as he could lose it. All kinds of opportunity was found there.

"And I'm not saying forever, either." She continued, placing the sliced ham on the bottom halves of the croissants. "Just a week or two. Just enough time to clear your head."

"But what about you?" He asked.

"I'll be fine," she said as she started to slice bright tomatoes. Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Chop! Wrothken was amazed that she never sliced a finger off with how quick she was with her blade. "If I could get from Valenwood to Skingrad on my own, I'm sure I can handle a few drunken oafs. Besides, it’s just for a little bit. Worst case, I can see if Yyaevannte can come by now and then. He’s not as big as you, but he’s Fighter’s Guild."

Wrothken could see that she wasn't going to let up. As much as he wanted to just go back upstairs and sulk in bed, she would just push it later, over and over and over until he went mad. Women. Why did they have to be such nags?

"Fine, fine," he sighed, getting up. "I'll get my gear then."

"Hold it," she said. "It's not enough to just go. This is a chance for a new beginning. Once you leave those gates, I want you to think of it as the first day of the rest of your life. No thinking of her. No thinking of him. Now, you are going to reclaim your dignity. Just promise me that."

He nodded. He didn't remember ever seeing her so serious before. "Alright, I'll do my best."

"Good! Now, come see me before you leave. I'll pack a lunch for you. And write to me once you get there."

"I will."

"No, promise me. I know how you are. You'll forget the moment you find something interesting. In fact, I'll even write a little reminder for you."



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:29 AM

[Jacki Dice]

haute ecole rider~ I'm actually unsure how to pronounce it :X A friend of mine found out about the fanfic and asked that I name a character after his middle name...and this conversation happened over text message I'll have to ask him how its said

Grits~ Wrothken thinks its cute too when I cook and I come back with flour all over my clothes

SubRosa~ Yyaevonnte was actually supposed to be in the original draft. At one point, he was going to be a resident of the Isles, then a thief that Lilitu takes under her wing, then a friend of Awour's...but he didn't fit proper! So when I did the redraft I added a Breton friend of Kirsty's....but then the light went off and -ding!- perfect place for him!

So Vivica is it? Yum! I like how you juxtaposed Lilitu's erotic dream with waking up to Dolce.

Nothing like waking up from a steamy dream to a dog (or these days a very vocal tuxedo cat!) pouncing on you and ruining it


mALX~ Thanks mALX ♥ Though my BHC has nothing on yours!

~~~~~♥~~~~~

Chapter Eleven: Understanding Madness

Atrea stood in front of the arena, watching as Lilitu disappeared down the bustling street. What was a girl like her, who hung out in dumps like the Dancing Minotaur, doing in such a posh place? And the very one owned by Kirsty.... She narrowed her eyes. Lilitu must have had something to do with her stolen jewelry. Now that she thought about it, Kirsty wasn't the type, but everyone knew who exactly hung out at the Dancing Minotaur. There might as well have been a Thieves' Guild banner flying over it.

She wanted to follow her and see if she still had her jewelry, maybe even steal it back, but she was afraid she would be too obvious. She was no thief, after all. Maybe after a few days, when her guard was down, she could find a way to get them back. Instead of stalking, she turned and went home.

She frowned, looking into the messy living room. Remnants of last night's lunch and dinner was still sitting on the coffee table, next to a pile of books. Crumpled papers littered the floor.

The kitchen wasn't much better. A bouquet of flowers, once fresh and fragrant, now smelled sickly sweet and the lightest brush on a petal nearly turned it to dust. Empty bottles were all over the counter, along with pots and pans caked with burnt food.

As usual, she felt the sudden urge to clean so she could entertain friends, but a few minutes into it, she gave up and left for Erissanda's house. She promised herself she would clean later on, though she had made that same promise nightly ever since Wrothken left their house.

Erissanda was home, thank the Gods. Atrea knew that if she had to look for her in the marketplace, she would be out of money by the end of the day. As Erissanda greeted her cheerfully and let Atrea in, Atrea was taken aback by how beautiful her home was. Sunlight bathed the living room from behind white lace curtains. The rose couches were so inviting, as was the wine and food platter sitting on the chestnut coffee table, as if Erissanda had been expecting her.

"Sit, sit!" Erissanda said, pulling Atrea to the couch and taking a seat next to her. "What brings you here? I thought you were going to get your jewelry back from Kirsty!" Erissanda snorted, tucking her brown hair behind her ear.

"You know," Atrea said, taking a slice of cheese onto a cracker. "I don't think Kirsty has it. Could you imagine her sneaking around anywhere? It’s a wonder she doesn't knock around everything in front of her!" She said, cupping her hands in front of her breasts.

Erissanda laughed a little. "Then who has it?"

"I think it was someone from the Thieves' Guild."

"Oh, please! You don't actually believe in that, do you?"

Atrea shrugged. "It's the only explanation I can think of." She sighed, laying her head in Erissanda's lap. "I miss Bacchus. If he were here, no one would have broken in.... or lived to tell about it!"

Erissanda stroked Atrea's long hair softly. "How long is his training?"

"A whole year! Can you believe I'm already getting so lonely? I don't know how much longer I can wait for him!"

"Awww, poor baby!" Erissanda said, starting to braid a lock of Atrea's hair. "Meanwhile you've bedded how many men this year?"

"Just two, thank you very much."

"Two more than I have," Erissanda muttered.

Atrea shrugged. Nothing she could do about that. She turned slightly, looking out the window. A man with an axe walked by the road and Atrea remembered Wrothken's axe still hanging up on the wall. Her heart fluttered, remembering his strong arms...those big hands...broad shoulders...plump, soft lips... She growled softly. Why didn't he fight back? Of course, she knew exactly why and she wanted to kick herself for it.

"What?" Erissanda asked, starting a new braid.

"Oh, just Wrothken."

"That he's vanished off of Nirn without so much as a goodbye or at least getting his dreck out of the house?"

"Not exactly.... I'm just wondering why the hell he had to run off like that instead of fighting."

Erissanda snorted again. "You just wanted to be fought over?"

"No!" Atrea said defensively. Of course that would have been nice, she thought.

"Look, I think it’s pretty obvious. You had dear Wrothken's balls in your purse! What did you expect from a guy like that?"

Atrea stood up and looked out the window. "It's not his fault. It's all mine."

"How so?"

Atrea turned around, her eyes shimmering. "Would you believe that Wrothken used to fight in a dirty pit back in Bruma?"

"They've got an arena up there?"

"Pfft." Atrea placed her hand on her hip. "More like a seedy little tavern with a huge basement. You should have seen it! It was packed full of men betting on people beating the daylights out of each other."

"And Wrothken was part of it?"

"He was a main event!" she looked up at the ceiling. "When I first laid eyes on him it was like someone lit a fire in me. His eyes..." Atrea sighed as she stared out the window. “The thing was, I was too scared of him to approach but one day, he came over to me and you can imagine my surprise when it turned out he was just the sweetest thing.

“Wrothken was just so kind and so very eager to please. Turns out he never really had a girlfriend before me. Well, there was one, but that was only for a week so she doesn't count. I mean, the only thing was, he had a bit of a temper problem, but I figured that if I could get him to get rid of it, I'd have the perfect guy! After all, he really was sweet under all that violent behavior and he spoiled me quite a bit. Soon enough he got out of the pit fighting."

Erissanda poured them both some wine. "Sounds just like your type!"

"Exactly!" She laughed. "I mean, it took a long time. The littlest things would set him off, but all I had to do was cry big, juicy daedroth tears and whimper, 'Wrothken you're scaring me,' and he'd calm down." She crinkled her nose. "Then he'd start to cry. By the Nine that was irritating. That's where I went wrong, though."

"How?" Erissanda asked. "You got him away from those bad influences, you got his temper in check, what could possibly be the problem?"

Atrea sighed. "He lost his spark." She leaned in, lowering her voice even though they were alone in the house. "Before, we used to have the most fiery passion you could imagine. He was rough, demanding, oh by Dibella it was..." She grunted, balling her fists. "But....afterwards..." She sighed. "It wasn't what it used to be, I guess."

"That's normal. All relationships go through that."

Atrea shook her head. "Not like we did. Not that I don't want Bacchus!" She added quickly. "He's gorgeous! And Wrothken put on a little weight when he started hanging around Kirsty. And while Bacchus is perfection in that department, he's nowhere near as good as Wrothken was in bed. Even with the fire doused, at least he was attentive, pleasing."

Erissanda took a sip of her wine. "Then why'd you keep at him for so long? I remember a couple months ago you were trying to figure out how to dump Wrothken and get with Bacchus as quick and as painless as possible."

"I know, I know!" Atrea groaned, burying her face in her hands. "But when Bacchus left for the night, it was wham, bam, thank you ma'am," she said, clapping her hands. "And that was it. With Wrothken, even if it was for just a few hours, he made sure I was taken care of, whether it was leaving me septims or just leaving food out for me. And my gods, can he cook! And he cleaned too! Without me even asking. Not to mention he bathed regularly. Do you know how bad it is when Bacchus came back after exercising? Or even just a romp in the sack? He smelled awful! But good luck convincing him of it," she said, crinkling her nose again. "And maybe he could live off stale arena food and beer, but I certainly will not!"

She leaned on Erissanda. "But why in Oblivion am I even thinking of Wrothken? I made my choice."

"Yeah, but you don't seem very pleased with it. Lack of passion aside, you've got to admit that Wrothken sounds like the better match for you. He's a nice guy."

"Exactly!" Atrea moaned. "I don't want a nice guy! They're so boring! I need a man who will light my fires, pounce me like an animal, who will make me scream! If I only knew what would happen, I could have avoided this mess in the first place."

Erissanda shrugged. "Oh, well. You can't have it all."

A spark lit up Atrea's eyes. "Or can you?" She stood up and began to pace. "You can't change a man, but you can train them. After all, that's just what I did to Wrothken. Well, what if I can untrain him? Find ways to bring back that part of him that I so stupidly repressed." She smiled. "It's certainly worth looking into, don't you think?"

"Sure," Erissanda said. "That is, if he ever comes back."



Kirsty was glad to have Capaneus with her all day. She had been tense, jumping each time a guard entered the bakery for a quick snack, but it was like Capaneus could read her thoughts and he never hesitated to say something to make her laugh. So strange that he was able to put her at ease so quickly.

He even helped her close and before leaving, he bowed and kissed her hand. What a gentleman!

Kirsty had always been too busy to even consider dating and each time she was witness to a horrible break up or its aftermath, she would be thankful that she had avoided such heartbreak. Capaneus, however made her feel so blissful. His compliments, not a single one related to her figure, were wonderful. His jokes hilarious. His very presence was powerful, though he wasn't a large man at all. Even still, a voice deep within her told her that something was wrong.

As she sat in her bathtub, she recalled Dolce's sudden outburst. The previous night when she had been the target of the dog's vicious growls, Dolce was instantly calmed by Lilitu. She had not only quieted, but immediately retreated back to her bed on command. Even the fact that Dolce walked just at Lilitu's side, without a leash, showed that the dog was well-trained. Then again, he did smell a little funny. And Lilitu mentioned that Dolce had been poisoned, she rationalized. Capaneus could remind Dolce of her assailant.

She spent the entire bath trying to give herself reasons not to worry until she realized what she was doing. As she crawled into bed, she simply chalked it up to nervousness about these newfound feelings. However, the voice refused to silence and it carried on until she entered the blackness of her dreams.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:38 AM