Memoirs of a Madwoman, a novel... by Rebecca Watters Options

[SubRosa]

but you can’t even keep your skirts down long enough to listen.
Youch! And how many skanks have you lifted the skirts of daddy?

He has been sent away and banished from the House of Dementia
In how many pieces I wonder?

Now that was quite the bombshell that Syl's father dropped! Not exactly a surprise, as it was obviously what Alanwen had intended all along. But it is still as devastating as one of her father's physical blows. Syl reacted with the rage I expected, given the circumstances. Too bad she was not able to finish the job on Alanwen before her father got there.

As the title said, now Syl finally has her freedom. But purchased with much pain. I have no doubt that this is not over though. Removing Syl from the palace was an error that I suspect will prove fatal for both her father, and Alanwen. For now Syl will have the opportunity to engineer her revenge upon both. Which I hope will be bloody and final. I am sure it will take a while for her to get there, but it seems as inevitable as the sun rising.



nits:
I wanted to slit her from ear to ear
Did you perhaps mean slit her throat from ear to ear?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 23 2011, 05:37 PM

[Thomas Kaira]

Yes, Syl has finally gotten her wish of freedom, and I for one am glad it came at the price of the loss of her father. If he was willing to choose a morally ambiguous harlot over his own daughter, then if he were my father, I would have nothing more to say to him. A good father always respects the wishes of his kin, and it is obvious Syl's does not. When Syl likened herself to a pet bird, she hit the nail right on the head.

I get the feeling that the next time Syl meets her father, it will be with cold vengeance in her heart.

In the meantime, I look forward to seeing just how much Syl enjoys (or doesn't) her new life outside the palace, as fallen royalty. She had better buckle down, though, because if there is one thing palace life can do to you, it is shelter one from the true evils of life. Syl has only had one experience with such people, but now she must learn to live among them after nearly two decades of protection by her blood status. Mistakes are going to be made; that much is certain at this point. Let's hope they aren't too bad, I don't want to see Syl get hurt.

[mALX]

I find it hard not to feel Syl's father set this up between the two of them - allowing them to go on a two-day hunting trip together where they will be in the same tent? How could he possibly be mad if they did something when he all but threw them together in an intimate setting? He couldn't have expected anything less than her deflowering (had she still been a flower).

Sindorin is acting oddly skittish, too. Why would he be hesitant to ask the father's permission for marriage rather than make it appear like he is just toying with the Duke's daughter's goodies and has no intentions beyond that? It seems the father would be much happier to learn Sindorin wants to marry her than just roll her in a tent.

You have quite a mystery going on in these relationships, intriguing bits of information that reveal tantalizing glimpses but the undertones promise a bigger story than we are seeing - can't wait to find out more !!!! Awesome Write !!!!!

[Acadian]

The first scene was both powerful and poignant.

Syl's imprisonment in her room and seeking comfort through cutting herself is actually fully understandable - testimony to how well you have developed her for us.

'Suddenly I felt as if a wall had tumbled down upon me. The news hit me like a bolt of lightning, and I was stunned. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to slit her throat from ear to ear. She was going to take my Ada away, just as she had been planning ever since she killed my mother. But I was not going to let her. Somehow I had to stop it.'
Syl has a reaction here that is very true to her nature as you have shown us. The violence that followed also seemed somehow perfectly fitting for Syl.

“Get out of my House,” he said, gritting his teeth just to keep from hitting me. “You are not welcome here any longer!”
At this news, I actually found myself saying, "Yes, freedom for Syl at last!" Alas, I see Syl does not feel that way, and again, you make her thinking so very in keeping with her nature, for I overlooked that she does indeed still love her father:
'I let her lead me out, but I felt numb and betrayed. I thought my life was over that day, and a part of it was. I was no longer Ada’s faerie princess anymore. Alanwen had finally won. He was all hers.'

Clearly, this marks a significant turning point for Syl.

[Lady Syl]

SubRosa:Thanks for pointing out that I left out "throat" in that sentence, lol. Sometimes I think faster than I can type...or is it the other way around?

TK:Aww, I'm so glad I've managed to make you care about Syl! It's what I was hoping to do, and that you express your hopes for her not to get hurt is quite touching!

As you said, it seems more than likely that she will end up getting hurt, but suffering has its purpose in life, after all--we can learn from it.

mALX:Actually, they were supposed to be in separate tents... However, it would seem the Duke ought to have known better. Glad you're still hanging in for more! Yay!!

Acadian:Thank you very much, sir! *bows respectfully* I am thrilled to know that my writing is doing that which I was hoping it would do--yours and...all the other comments are certainly testimony that I should indeed continue writing--not just for my own sake, but to add enjoyment and (hopefully, ultimately) learning through an activity that I fear is slowly dying--reading. But still, I feel so inferior to all of you, who are such skilled writers--so to hear you all encourage and praise my writing...I am left speechless, and all I can say is, again, thank you all!



Chapter 7.1—Exiled

Sindorin threw his arms around me the moment he saw me follow Muurine into the house in Crucible that day. “Syl! I cannot believe you are here! How did you get your father to let you come?” When he looked at me again, he saw that I had been crying, and then he noticed the somber expressions on mine and Muurine’s faces. Then he asked, “What happened?”

Muurune sat me at the table and pulled Sindorin aside to quietly fill him in on the details. When they finished speaking, he came to kneel before me, taking my hand, and saying, “Oh, Syl, I…I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t speak. What words could possibly have conveyed what it felt like to be exiled—disowned by my own beloved father? Fresh tears filled my eyes, and though I tried to fight it, I began weeping again. Sindorin pulled me into his arms and held me as I wept, and I was comforted by the warmth of his embrace. But nothing could possibly fill the void that was left in my heart that day. Nothing could heal the ache of abandonment that surrounded me.

******

Muurine was up bright and early the next morning, and she was hardly very quiet, though I think she was trying to be. Although Sindorin and I were together, I slept in Muurine’s quarters, while he slept downstairs on a bedroll he laid out in the kitchen, as it would have been entirely improper for a lady to sleep anywhere but in a private chamber.

Usually Muurine slept late, but this morning she had something on her mind. She went right to it, sitting at her desk and studying her books and her notes voraciously. I was hardly privy to what it was she was so intent on finding, but I couldn’t sleep with her rapid page-turning and absent-minded mumbling. So, I got up and sat in a chair beside her, wrapped in a blanket, and rested my head upon her shoulder. She smiled slightly, continuing to scan the pages of her books; and when she had found what she was looking for she stuck a quill in the pages and turned to look down at me.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “Did I wake you?”

“No, not really,” I replied in a sleepy voice. I yawned a little, then sat up and saw that she was looking at me very curiously. “What is it?”

“Not to pry,” she began with caution, “but I suspect you and Sindorin have…taken your relationship to the next level… Am I correct, or am I just misreading things?”

I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t just one of her ways of fishing details out of me which she could use to enrich her gossip with. After all, it really wasn’t any of her business. And besides, I was still tired.

My lengthy silence brought out a sigh from her, and she got up and pushed in her chair. “Never mind…. I’m sorry—I should never have asked, I suppose. I was just hoping, I guess. I would love to see you together… And you know you can tell me anything, Syl—I’m good at keeping secrets, if that’s what you want me to do.”

Yeah, right, I thought with some amusement. She was good at keeping some secrets—but many times she spilled at least to one other person, who would then tell one other person—all of them promising absolute secrecy, only going on to tell one person they believed they could trust. Then before you know it, everyone in town is buzzing about it. Of course, Muurine and her friends meant well—usually, anyway. But the truth was, they were horrible at keeping secrets other than their own, and usually everyone found out about it sooner or later.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I only smiled and got up to get dressed. She watched me walk away for a moment, and then came over to help, as usual.

While she helped me into my clothes, I thought about telling her. I knew she would be excited about it. But I liked keeping it to myself, as so little of my life had ever truly been.

After helping me into my simple black dress, she stopped and took my face in her hand to admire me with tears in her shining brown eyes. “You look so much like your mother. She and I were friends, you know. I met her at court just after you were born, and we became friends very quickly. That’s why she decided to hire me on as your governess, when the first one wasn’t working out very well.”

“The first one?” I asked, having known nothing of having another governess before Muurine.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, thinking back on it. “The first one was your wet-nurse; a Redguard woman with seven grown children, who had served your parents as a chambermaid for years…. I don’t know exactly what it was that made her no longer suitable to govern you, but I remember your mother was very nervous about it. Your father was, as usual, suspicious of her. They never spoke to me about it, but I did over hear him mention something about a secret, if I remember correctly? Hmm…. I never did find out what this secret was, but apparently the woman knew too much about something, and was threatening to expose this secret….”

“What happened to her?”

“Well, she was executed, naturally.”

“Do you know what the secret was about?”

“No. All I know, dear, is that it was a secret that your parents were willing to kill for, in order to keep it from getting out. Every family has secrets, though. I’m sure it’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

I became silent, thoughtful. Muurine was convincing that she knew nothing more than what she had told me about it, but I still couldn’t help but wonder if there was more that she wasn’t telling me. I sat on my bed and watched her as she continued with her studies again, trying to decide if she did know more than she had told me.

Deciding that Muurine had truly told me everything she knew, I got up and went downstairs to see if Sindorin was awake yet. He wasn’t. He was still fast asleep in his bedroll, so I curled up beside him under the covers. He stirred and smiled a little, pulling me close and snuggling, but he was still only partially awake. While I lied there, I still wondered about what Muurine had told me, until I decided that it did no good for me to dwell on it further, and I pushed it from my mind.

******

While we all sat down to breakfast together that morning, a knock sounded on the door. We all looked at each other, and then Uncle Leo rose, straightening his fine silk jacket, and saying, “I’ll answer it.”

We all watched him walk down to the door, and we listened as he answered it. I heard the voice of my father’s Mazken courier, a male named Torzen. “Madgod’s blessings, honored madman. I have here a message from His Lordship, Duke Gelebor, for the madwoman, Syl Camoran. It must be delivered at once.”

“Thank you,” I heard Uncle Leo reply, before closing the door. He soon came back into the dining room, carrying a scroll that was tied with a black ribbon and sealed with my father’s emblem. He held it out to me, saying, “For you, my dear.”

As I took the letter from him, my hand shook. I prayed my father was summoning me to return, and that he had forgiven me. But upon unrolling the letter, I would find that it was even more unpleasant news. I should have guessed it when the courier had referred to me simply as ‘the madwoman, Syl Camoran.’ The lack of my usual title of honor, as well as the use of my mother’s ancestral surname, should have told me right away that I was far from forgiven.

The letter read as follows:

“Madwoman Syl Camoran,

Your crimes against us are most unforgivable. Unless you are willing to offer a sincere apology, and do penance for your trespasses, you are hereby banished from the House of Dementia and forbidden to seek the aid of any courtier or servant of House Dementia. Any who offer refuge to disgraced former members of the court, will be proving themselves disloyal, and will be susceptible to imprisonment and possible torture. May the Madgod have mercy on you.

Lord Gelebor, Duke of Dementia.”

When I finished reading the letter, I laid it on the table and just sat there, staring through it. Not only was I banished from the House of Dementia—now I might as well be banished from the entire city of Crucible. I could hardly believe my father would do this to me, and all because of that wretched woman!

“Syl, dear?” asked Muurine. “What does it say?”

“Read for yourself,” I managed to say, pushing the letter away and getting up from the table. “Madgod be with you all.”

Muurine was shocked when I began heading for the door, and she ran to stop me from leaving, while Uncle Leo picked up the letter and read it himself.

“Syl, where are you going?” Muurine cried, taking my arm to stop me. “You mustn’t leave… Where will you go?”

“Muurine,” said Uncle Leo, holding up the letter. “She has no choice. The Duke has made it perfectly clear…”

“What?” Muurine took the letter and scanned it quickly. Fury crossed her face suddenly and she tore up the letter, throwing it to the floor. “Well, this is what I think of it! I will not turn my Syl out onto the streets! She must stay here.”

“No, Muurine,” I said, shaking my head. “I will not put you at risk like that. I will go. I am sure someone who is not a member of court will take me in.”

Sindorin stood up finally, and said, “I will take you to Ashwood. You can stay with me.”

“Sindorin, are you sure?” I asked.

“I am no longer a member of the court, remember?” he said, walking over to take my hand. “And I would love nothing more than to have you stay at my home.”

While I was not too keen on the idea of leaving Crucible altogether, the prospect of making my home with Sindorin was more than appealing. Of course, I did not want to sound too excited, so I said, “Only if it is not an inconvenience to you.”

“It is no matter at all,” he answered, pressing my hand to his lips. “And I believe you will like it there.”

I smiled faintly, but I was still reeling from the shock of my father’s decision. Muurine, however, was not so ready to let me go. “This is unfair! You cannot just up and leave so suddenly. I’ll not stand for it.”

“Aunt Muurine,” said Sindorin, taking her by the arm, “please do not do anything to further anger the Duke. Syl and I have fallen out of favor with him, and we are lucky that he is being this lenient on us. I should think it unwise for any one of us to push our luck.”

“Sindorin is right, Muurine,” said Uncle Leo. “While I am not in agreement with Lord Gelebor’s decision, it is best for us to simply obey without question. Once he has cooled down some, he may be more forgiving. But for now, we must do as he commands.”

Muurine didn’t want to back down, but she knew that both Uncle Leo and Sindorin were right. She looked at me and held out her arms, and I accepted her embrace. Squeezing me tightly, she said, “I just can’t bear the thought of you being so far away from me. Ashwood is an entire day’s journey from here—I will hardly get to see you.”

“We will come to visit,” said Sindorin. “We can always stay at the inn.”

Muurine nodded slowly, and I went back to Sindorin. When I leaned back against him, he put his arms around me, and Muurine smiled at us with tears in her eyes. She knew we were in love, and it brought her some joy in this otherwise sorrowful moment. “Oh, come here, the both of you,” she said, holding her arms out to us.

The three of us embraced each other one last time, and then Sindorin grabbed our cloaks and we headed out into the cold, rainy morning, to begin our day-long journey down to Ashwood as exiles.

[mALX]

Something is decidedly odd about Sindorin. He wakes up to a woman he is in love with snuggling him in his bed and merely stirs a little ... hmmm. Add that to him not stepping up and asking the Duke for her hand in marriage - oh yeah, Sindorin has some secrets of his own I'll bet. I wonder what they are, lol.

Syl not doing as the Duke bid and returning to him with an apology - that was probably a decision based in her youth, I was surprised Muurine didn't advise her to take that route. And a secret - one that Muurine obviously CAN keep, lol. A great chapter !!!

[Lady Syl]

mALX: Yes, Muurine does actually have the ability to keep some secrets. When her life depends on it, then she knows very well how to keep her lips sealed....



Chapter 7.2—Exiled

Though I felt a sense of sorrow at leaving the city of my birth, I was excited and giddy about starting a new life with Sindorin in Ashwood—a city which had mystified me since I was a little girl. When we arrived, nobody knew who I was at all. It was such a relief to feel a sense of anonymity, for probably the first time in my life. I began to relax a bit, seeing that I wasn’t being watched so closely, like I always was in Crucible, where almost everybody knew who I was.

Life with Sindorin in Ashwood was wonderful, and for the first week I was unbelievably happy. He was so kind and respectful, and he showered me with love every single day. But it didn’t take long for me to realize I would not be happy in Ashwood for the rest of my life. After the first week, Sindorin began spending a lot of time going out on the hunt, and he would be gone for days at a time, usually only returning home for the weekend. I thought he would want me to go along on the hunt, but he seemed less than enthused when I asked to join him.

“Listen, Syl, I just need some time alone. I am not used to being around anyone this much—I need more solitude. And besides, I would prefer it if you stay here, where you will be safe.”

“I do not want to be your princess in a tower, Sindorin!” I argued. “I can handle myself in a battle just as well as you—I don’t need to be locked away for safe keeping!”

“Please, Syl,” he said, lifting my chin and wiping hot tears from my cheeks. “It is not easy for me to change the way of life I have lived for longer then you’ve been alive. Next time I will let you come with me—but this time I just want to go alone.”

Looking up at him, I let out a sigh. Then I said, “All right. Go, then. I will not stop you.”

“Thank you for understanding,” he replied, kissing me and patting me on the cheek before heading to grab his bow. He stopped before going out the door, and turned back to me, saying, “Please make sure you stay home while I am away, and do not answer the door if anyone knocks. You never know…. I’ll return in two days. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I answered quietly, though I couldn’t look at him. And then he was gone, and I was alone once again.

******

The fireflies were glowing yellow and the sound of rushing water filled my ears from nearby. I was standing in a grove of oak trees and willows, hidden from the sight of unwelcome eyes. Crickets serenaded all around me, and the warm breeze blew softly, caressing my skin like the gentle touch of a lover. I closed my eyes, feeling so at peace in this strange world—for some reason, I felt secure, though I had no idea where I was.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps crunching twigs and leaves on the forest floor, and I turned to see who was coming. My heart leapt when he stepped into the clearing, smiling at me as if I were his greatest joy, and I knew by the look in his magnificent eyes that he loved me. When he drew me into his arms, kissing me with such passion, I nearly melted in the warmth of his embrace.

“Look at them, Syl,” he said to me, his eyes turning upwards, where two massive glowing orbs floated in the night sky. Taking my hand in his, he said, “They are like us—drifting through the endless darkness alone, longing for one another when they are apart, but touching every so often when the fates allow.”

He pressed his lips to mine, but before the kiss was even over, he began to fade until I was left standing alone once again, the pain of our separation too impossible to bear….

When I woke up, I was still alone, in Sindorin’s bed. I shivered from the cold and listened to the rain falling outside, and the thunder cracking as the lighting flashed. Letting out a sigh, I realized it was only another impossible dream….

I was beginning to feel trapped again, with Sindorin being so over-protective of me, and I was certain this beautiful man I kept dreaming about was someone my mind conjured up to fill the ever-growing void in my miserable and lonely life. And yet, something about him seemed so familiar, as if I had met him before.

A part of me felt guilty for betraying Sindorin with this dream man, but I couldn’t help that my soul yearned for him so strongly. It didn’t help that Sindorin was almost never around, and when he was he spent more time repairing all of his hunting supplies in the parlor than he did with me. I cooked for him and cleaned for him, and stayed locked inside the house for him, and the only time he was able to spare for me was when we shared his bed.

One weekend when he came home, he sat in the parlor polishing the tips of his arrows, while I stood in the doorway, aching for him to notice me. When he finally realized I was there, he turned to me, and said, “Oh, Syl… I didn’t know you were standing there. Is something the matter? You look so glum. You hardly spoke to me at dinner….”

Tears began to well up in my eyes, and though I tried to fight it, I couldn’t hold back. “Everything is so different now, Sindorin. You are not the same here as you were in Crucible.”

He leaned back in his wooden chair, the leather of his armor making a scrunching sound with his movements. He let out a sigh and looked away from me, resting his hands on the back of his head, and obviously trying to think of what to say. But then, much to my surprise, he said, “So? Neither are you….”

A tear slipped down my cheek when I closed my eyes, unable to believe any of this. I didn’t even know what to say. I turned my face toward the floor, and said, “You don’t really want me here, do you?”

He sighed again and got up from his chair, saying, “Madgod, Syl, whatever made you say something like that? Of course I want you here.”

“To be your maid? To be the mistress you can return to when you need pleasure? I thought you loved me, but you treat me like nothing more than your personal harlot.”

“Syl, you know that you mean more to me than that,” he said, apparently shocked that I would say such things.

“Do I? Because you sure have a strange way of showing it! You keep me locked up inside this house day after day, while you go out hunting all week long, coming home only to lie with me for a couple of nights before you are at it again.”

“Syl, I…I’m sorry,” he said, seemingly at a loss for words. “This is how I have lived for many, many years, and I cannot just change it overnight. These things take time, Syl.”

“But you’re not even trying!” I cried, desperate for him to understand me. “In Crucible, I was the world to you. But here I am nothing but your slave to do with as you please!”

“I didn’t know you were feeling this way,” he said, sincerely baffled. “If I have made you feel that way, then I’m sorry, Syl. I truly didn’t know….”

“Perhaps if you were more concerned about your relationship with me, instead of living your life as you always did in the past, you would have noticed that I’ve been feeling this way almost since the beginning. This isn’t what I had thought it would be. This isn’t what I had…imagined….”

I became silent at this point, as the cold realization hit me. I had been falling for quite some time now, but I hadn’t realized it until it was too late to catch myself. Now there we were, standing before one another in the parlor, but it was as if we were an entire world away from each other.

Finally finding the words to speak, I took a deep breath, and said, “I want to go home—back to Crucible. I can’t stay here anymore, Sindorin, or I’ll just die.”

“But where will you go? You’ll be out on the streets….”

“I’ll find a way,” came my reply. “I just can’t bear this any longer. I don’t want to stay here with you anymore. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t know…maybe I should be happy here with you, but I’m not.”

After a momentary pause, Sindorin looked at me again and nodded, saying, “If that is what you truly want, then I will take you back to Crucible in the morning. I’m sorry, Syl. I don’t know what to say. Perhaps when you’re a little older, you will reconsider your decision and come back to me? I do love you, Syl.”

But it’s not enough, I thought painfully. But I didn’t say what was on my mind, and I just nodded my head slowly and walked back up the stairs. With a heavy heart, I packed my few belongings while Sindorin sat downstairs, staring pensively into the fire. I knew that even though he wasn’t very good at showing it, he did love me, and he did want me to be there. I can’t even begin to express how much I loved him, and how grateful I was for his charity toward me.

The next day, Sindorin escorted me back to Crucible, not wanting me to travel the roads alone. The journey was slow and solemn; neither of us talked most of the way, both lost in our own thoughts. We didn’t really know what more to say, so we were silent.

Because I could not stay with Muurine, Sindorin walked me to the inn, where he paid for two weeks worth of room and board for me. He would have paid for more, if he could have, but I told him I would be fine and I thanked him for all of his kindness.

Before he left, Sindorin took me aside and we embraced. Both of us cried softly as we kissed each other one last time, then said farewell. He whispered in my ear, “Madgod be with you, my sweet little Syl. Take care of yourself.”

My heart broke the moment he walked out the door of my room, but I knew this was for the best. As much as I loved him, I could not be with him—at least not at that point in our lives. Muurine came to visit, and she sat with me for the rest of the day, while I wept with my head in her lap as she gently stroked my hair. I missed Sindorin already, and I felt like the worst person in the whole Realm to do this to him. I feared that Muurine would be angry with me, but she was good and understanding and she assured me that this was for the best—if I was not happy in Ashwood then I shouldn’t force myself to stay there, not even for Sindorin. The hardest part was letting go.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Jun 1 2011, 07:55 PM

[mALX]

The fireflies were glowing yellow and the sound of rushing water filled my ears from nearby. I was standing in a grove of oak trees and willows, hidden from the sight of unwelcome eyes. Crickets serenaded all around me, and the warm breeze blew softly, caressing my skin like the gentle touch of a lover. I closed my eyes, feeling so at peace in this strange world—for some reason, I felt secure, though I had no idea where I was.

What an outstanding paragraph !! I can't help but wonder if the lover of her dreams is Thadon. What I found strange in this chapter was Sindorin's cool acceptance of the break up - while Syl was torn by it, felt bad for hurting him when he wasn't displaying pain. Sindorin has been strange all along, he reeks of secrets and motives below the surface with all his strange actions regarding Syl since she was grown. Intriguing !! Awesome Write !!!!!!

[Acadian]

“Well, she was executed, naturally.”
How very demented! That Muurine said this in a rather blasé manner is testimony to how well you have crafted her for us.

And another mystery! This time about Syl's first governess.

Then Syl and Sindorin went off to Ashwood with such high hopes. Very poignant how things didn't work out there for Syl, and a sad return to Crucible.

Nit: 'While I lied there,'
You want 'lay' here. Lay vs lie can be very confusing and become even more so in the past tense. A correct example: 'Yesterday I lay in bed all day reading. Finally I laid my book on the table and put out the light.' I highly recommend you google 'lay vs lie' and try to get comfortable with the quirky differences.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 6 2011, 12:51 AM

[hazmick]

Blessings of the Madgod! What a wonderful story! It's always nice to see another writer here (and a Bosmer no less! )
I am loving what you have done with the Shivering Isles! I don't get to visit with my Argonain as much as I'd like so it's nice to read your wonderful descriptions of the brilliant madness. You have given a huge depth to characters that I have never really spoken to 'in-game' and for that I congratulate you. I particularly loved the early scene with Thadon and Syl as children in Bliss, Thadon chasing after his chocolate as it floated away made me giggle. The romance between Syl and her lovers was also wonderful to read.

I look forward to future chapters with much anticipation!

This post has been edited by hazmick: Jun 6 2011, 03:09 AM

[Lady Syl]

mALX: Yes, Sindorin is rather detached, as you can plainly see. He does love Syl, but he is a madman, after all, and somewhere in his past lies the reason for his current inability to show more emotion and caring. It's unfortunate, because if not for that, he might have been a wonderful man for Syl to spend her life with. But, alas! it could not be.

Acadian: It probably helps me write the Demented characters with their so very twisted perspective because one of my favorite films growing up was The Addams Family with Anjelica Huston. In fact, Anjelica Huston is, in some ways, my inspiration for Muurine's character--I could see her as Muurine perfectly, though Muurine is more of a mixture of some of Ms. Huston's most memorable roles. I love writing these characters because they are just so very different...

hazmick: How wonderful it is to see a new reader join in Lady Syl's House of Madness! I am so pleased to hear that you are enjoying this rather bittersweet story of Syl's (and Thadon's).



Chapter 8—Dreams of Passion

It was a warm, sunny day in the Shivering Isles, and Thadon wanted to take advantage of the weather. He spent much of the day walking on the palace grounds, or sitting in the Halcyon Conservatory with a good book. He snacked on chocolates while he read, sipping wine from a silver goblet, and dreaming of the far off places in the stories he read. Then he began nodding off, an effect from the greenmote he had eaten with the midday meal wearing off, mixed with incurable boredom, when suddenly a voice called his name.

He opened his eyes, and when he saw who it was, he let out a sigh, and asked, “Is it really time, my Lord? Must I do this right now?”

“It is time,” said Lord Antonius, the tall but portly Duke of Mania. “We must prepare for the feast. This is a marvelous day for you, my boy—the day your destiny begins to take shape. I thought you would be excited about this day.”

“I am,” Thadon responded, “but can’t I have a few more minutes? I was having the most wonderful dream about a childhood friend, and I don’t want to leave it just yet.”

******

Antonius smiled to himself. Yes, Thadon will make a fine Duke one day. He was eager to get Thadon prepared for his future, though the youth did not yet know what his master had in mind. The Duke was getting old and weary, though, from countless years spent eating too much and partying too hard. But, thus was the life of a Duke of Mania—one always had to be the life of the party, and there was a party at the House of Mania every night. When Thadon’s time came to assume the mantle of the Duke of Mania, Antonius knew he would serve the people well, just as he had served him since he was but a small boy. However, at the age of 17, Thadon had another couple years or so before he would be truly ready.

“Come on,” said Antonius. “You must get prepared. You will be my new steward, and that is a great honor. You have well earned it with your years of loyal service. Rise, Thadon, and take your place within my court.”

Thadon sighed and set his book aside, then got up and stretched. He was taller than most Wood Elf males, but still short compared to most men. Even so, he was well-built and unbelievably handsome, with soft brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and those gorgeous and unique eyes. Even Antonius could not deny that he found young Thadon to be good-looking and rather desirable. And the women of Mania, both young and old, went nuts over him, and he’d had more than his fair share of them already. He was not one to hold back from the things which he desired, but that was part of being Manic—one could never have too much of anything, so they believed. None of them ever held back, and it’s likely that none of them even knew how to.

“All right, Master Antonius,” he said, bowing respectfully. “I am at your service.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” said Antonius, patting him on the shoulder once, as he chuckled to himself.

******

As he followed his master, whom he loved like a father, Thadon couldn’t help letting his mind wander back to his dreams. He wasn’t sure what triggered the dream about Syl, but it came rather unexpectedly. He hadn’t seen nor heard from the girl in several years, ever since that day when she told him never to speak to her again. Though their friendship had lasted so briefly, she had left such an impression on him which he could never explain. He had thought of her from time to time over the years, but she hadn’t crossed his mind since his party days began. After that, he was always too distracted with all the women who were constantly throwing themselves at him to think about childhood friends.

Then all of a sudden, there she was, haunting him in his dreams while he dozed in the garden that day. He had been dreaming of that first day they had spent together, when he’d fallen in the stream and lost his chocolates. It was a rather simple event; but there was something special about that day, and nothing could ever compare to the joy he felt as they had laughed together in the water, soaked to the bone and looking like ragamuffins. He still smiled when he thought of that day, and he let out a long, nostalgic sigh as he pushed the dream from his mind.

******

After the feast that night, Thadon entertained himself with the most irresistible petite blonde woman he had ever seen. She was a Breton woman, with a sweet yet enticing name, Solange, and he had met her just that night at the feast. He knew the first moment he lay eyes upon her that she would be the one he would take back to his room that night. Like most women, she seemed entirely enthralled with him, too, and they hit it off right away.

When they had both had their fill of the party, they wandered off to his chamber together, looking to enjoy each other’s company for the night. They were laughing and playing in his bed, and he was having the time of his life. But then something completely unexpected happened. Thadon stopped suddenly and became still, as a strange vision swept him away…

Out of nowhere, the vision flashed before him of a woman with the most beautiful and mesmerizing smile he had ever seen, gazing at him with such intense blue eyes. He was completely in awe of this woman, and he knew that, whoever she was, he was in love with her. And by the look in those amazing blue eyes, he knew that she was in love with him, too.

She was unbelievably beautiful, lovelier than any woman he had ever seen, with long, dark brown hair that framed her heart-shaped face, and eyes that seemed to penetrate into his very soul. But it wasn’t her beauty alone which drew him to her. There was something else, something much deeper than the flesh, like a connection of the soul.

“I love you, Thadon,” the woman whispered softly to him, before leaning down to kiss him. But just before their lips touched, the vision was gone, just as quickly as it had come, and he was face to face with Solange once again, who looked at him in confusion, as if wondering why he had stopped so suddenly.

The vision had stunned him, leaving him confused and disoriented, and suddenly Solange was not so irresistible to him anymore. He moved away and sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his face in his hands and trying to figure out what in Oblivion had just happened.

Solange watched him curiously, and asked, “Thadon? Is…everything all right? What happened?”

Thadon shook his head and got up, slipping on a robe and pouring himself a glass of wine. He downed the whole glass in one drink, then set it down and leaned on the table with his hands, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not really in the mood tonight,” he said finally. “Just go…. I…need to rest.”

“But, Thadon, what--?”

“Just go, Solange,” he repeated, more forceful and direct. “I said I’m not interested tonight.”

“Was I no good?” she asked, sounding hurt and confused by his rejection.

“No,” he sighed. “It’s not that, it’s just… I can’t really explain it. I don’t know what happened.”

She got up off the bed and came around to him, reaching her hand beneath his robe, and saying, “There are herbs that can help with that.”

Thadon pulled away and held out his hands to stop her. “No, Solange, it’s nothing like that.”

“I can tell,” she said, raising her brow. “So, what’s the problem?”

“Look, would you just leave?” he said, sitting on the bed again. “I told you, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

Solange sighed and begrudgingly started to collect the remainder of her clothes. “Fine,” she said, shortly. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then I’m not interested in you anymore, either. Good-bye!”

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Thadon let out another sigh, running his fingers through his hair, and looked at the vase of flowers on his desk, situated across the room. There was an assortment of various colorful flowers, but he noticed one that was right in the centre of the arrangement. It was the most beautiful flower of all—a rose, red for the color of passion. And at that moment, she was that rose, the fairest of all the flowers.

He got up and plucked the rose from the vase, sniffing at its voluptuous perfume and sighing with delight. Then he sat down and began scribbling voraciously, writing a poem to his lady:

O Lady of exquisite beauty!
A rose cannot compare,
To your elegant and lovely face,
And all that gorgeous hair!

O passion-stirring sentiment!
O fairest of them all!
The echo of that perfect voice
Doth happily still call!

Just wait and see, my Lady fair—
I know we’ll one day meet!
And on that day, the best of all,
I’ll sweep you off your feet!

And then together we shall dance,
With passion and desire!
Our love will burn eternally
And set the world on fire!

******

Ever since that unusual vision, Thadon was haunted by that beautiful dark-haired woman, who came to him often in his dreams while he slept. He would awaken after a dream of her, and sigh in disappointment when he saw that she wasn’t really there. He knew that the vision and the dreams must have meant something, but he wasn’t sure what. He hoped that perhaps the dreams were somehow prophetic—that he would one day meet that striking and incredibly unique wood elf, and that she would turn out to be his destined life-partner.

He had never even considered choosing a mate to whom he would be faithful and devoted. That just didn’t interest him at all—there were so many beautiful women to choose from, and just wanted to sample them all—until that woman began to show up in his dreams. He decided then that if he could only have one woman for the rest of his life—a terrifying thought to most Maniacs—he would gladly choose it to be her. He could see himself being satisfied with only one woman, as long as it was that woman in his dreams.

As Thadon sat in the Halcyon Conservatory one day, staring up at the sky and thinking about his dream lady, he suddenly came to the realization that there was another possibility as to what the dreams were saying to him—although it was one that was much less appealing than the thought of them being prophetic dreams. It was always possible that these dreams were merely symbolic, and that the woman was only an archetype for what he would consider the ideal life-mate. He hoped it was the first option—the prophetic dream. But he couldn’t be sure….

The woman, though beautiful, did not seem bright and bubbly like all the women he knew already, which struck him as somewhat odd as he continued to contemplate her in his chamber that night. She was more serious than any of the women he’d ever known, which only made her all that more appealing—she was different, unique. She was unchartered territory, and yet he was sure that there was something very familiar about her. The woman in his dreams was unlike any other, and he longed to find her.

Sighing almost painfully, he thought about her smile—hers seemed more sincere than the smiles of the women in Mania that he knew. It was almost tinged with a hint of sorrow, which he could not understand. But when she smiled at him, it was as if she were seeking reassurance and love—he made her vulnerable in some way, and he imagined it was something that wasn’t normal for her, though he didn’t know why he got that impression.

Jumping up from his bed, Thadon dug out his art supplies and put a fresh canvas on the easel by the foot of his bed. Unable to get her face out of his mind, he began drawing on the canvas with a charcoal pencil, sketching her face with such skill as to appear not to put any effort into his drawing. What he saw in his mind came out on the canvas almost perfectly, and when he was finished, he stepped back and admired his work. She was so beautiful to him…no other woman in all of Mania could ever compare. She was unique—and to him, she was perfect….

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Aug 20 2011, 05:52 PM

[hazmick]

What a lovely insight into the life of the manics and Thadon's early court days. I wonder, does he take chocolate with his greenmote?

I think the young Bosmer is in love! If only he knew who that familiar face belonged to!

Great chapter M'lady.

[Thomas Kaira]

My dear Syl... why must you break these hearts so?

It seems Syl hasn't quite gotten used to the fact that she is no longer royalty. Frankly, her complaints about living with Sindorin seemed like she's been spoiled by being able to live as she wished for most of her adolescent life. But, by the same token, she was also a prisoner of her father's will, so this could go either way.

It is disheartening to see her leave Sindorin, but at the same time, she now knows he is not the one in life she has been looking for. I wonder who is?

And I wonder if she is ever going to get to pay a visit to Cyrodiil, too? I would love to see Masser and Secunda rise in person, myself!

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Jun 10 2011, 01:16 AM

[SubRosa]

7.1
I wonder what this secret was that Syl's wetnurse was executed for learning? Maybe who Syl's real father was? Or real mother was? Interesting...

7.2
I was not surprised at the courier's note of further banishment. I expected as much. I am also not surprised to see Syl's little love-nest with Sindorin quickly become stifling as well. For his own part, I am certain that married life (for even if it is not official, that is basically what it is) is quite a shock for him. Loving someone is one thing. Being able to live with them is something else entirely. Especially when you are used to doing everything your own way.

Syl's dream, and the mystery man in it, now that sparks some ideas. Why do I keep thinking of Thadon? I suppose only time will tell the answer to that.

Now there we were, standing before one another in the parlor, but it was as if we were an entire world away from each other.
I loved how you did the entire scene, but especially this. I have been there and done that myself, and that is exactly what it is like. Well written!

But it’s not enough
This is another excellent realization, and a most basic truth that people can only learn the hard way. Love is not enough. It takes more, and often that is just not there.

[mALX]

This note is copied and pasted on everyone whose story I am having to neglect for a few days - mainly because my eyes are burning too badly to keep looking at the screen :


"I'll be back!" (spoken in an Arnold voice). I haven't had time to read this week - way too much going on, my week has been hectic as H !! When I have gotten any free time my eyes and mind were burned out, lol. I'll be back to read this when I get a bit of a break in the rat-race pace around here. (sorry about that )

[Lady Syl]

This note is copied and pasted on everyone whose story I am having to neglect for a few days - mainly because my eyes are burning too badly to keep looking at the screen :


"I'll be back!" (spoken in an Arnold voice). I haven't had time to read this week - way too much going on, my week has been hectic as H !! When I have gotten any free time my eyes and mind were burned out, lol. I'll be back to read this when I get a bit of a break in the rat-race pace around here. (sorry about that )

Not to worry, mALXie. Thank you for letting us all know.

[Lady Syl]

hazmick:Thank you! And yes, I believe Thadon does indeed take chocolate with his greenmote!

TK:I break these hearts because it gives you an insight to this seemingly terrible person from the game, of course! Unfortunately it only gets worse before it gets better. Must have much pain and sorrow to create the future Duchess of Dementia, after all. But I'll give you a little to look forward to: Through all the misery she experiences, there are little rays of sunshine and happiness that will manage to peek through all the clouds.

SubRosa:Hmm, you may be onto something. Time will only tell, of course. And Sindorin was a learning experience that she had to go through perhaps, to know what the real good thing is when it comes... Soon perhaps?



Chapter 9.1—Desperation

After returning to Crucible, I found that most of my old friends no longer cared for me, now that I was no longer in my father’s favor. Now that I was disgraced, I was nothing to them. So much for true friendship…

Cutter was still friends with me, but she was busier with learning to be a blacksmith, so she didn’t have much time to spend with me. However, she made it clear that she still valued my friendship, and on her free-time she would have me over at the smith shop to hang out together, usually just the two of us.

Sometimes Dumag gro-Shadborgob would also hang out with us, as he was Morga’s son, and also Cutter’s lover at the time. I could never understand her attraction to him, but they seemed very fond of each other then, and he would at the very least try to be friendly. However, he apparently had always had an interest in me, and he had asked Cutter to get me to go to bed with him one time. I was hardly interested, especially since I assumed the two of them were going steady, but apparently Cutter thought it would be fun. She was particularly wild in those days, and she could get me to do just about anything.

Dumag had offered to pay me for it, which I would have turned down in a heart-beat. But my two week stay at the inn was about to come to an end, and I had no money. If I didn’t get the 20 drakes it cost for a room, I was going to be out on the streets the very next night. But Dumag was willing to pay 10 for one time with me, so out of desperation, I agreed. I would make up the difference my own way.

In her chamber at the smithy, I asked Cutter if she would let me drink a couple bottles of wine first, but she vehemently said, “No! Absolutely not! Syl, how can you say you do or do not like it with him, if you’re too drunk to remember any of it?”

I glanced over at Dumag, who was waiting patiently on the bed in his loin cloth. He saw me look at him, and he made what appeared to be a smile. I forced myself to return his smile, and then looked back at Cutter. “All right,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll do it without getting drunk…. But can I at least have just one drink, to get me a little more in the mood?”

“Sure,” she said, handing me the bottle she had only just wrenched from my hands moments ago. I took one drink—one very long drink—and she had to yank the bottle away, so I wouldn’t consume it all. “You cheat!” she said with a snicker.

I smiled and said, “You said I could have one drink. You didn’t say how long it could be.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm to pull me toward the bed. She took a swig of the wine herself, and handed it to Dumag, who accepted it graciously. Watching Dumag drink the wine then, I felt suddenly very modest and shy about this whole thing. Cutter, having noticed, reached around my waist to untie my bodice herself. I felt very awkward, but Dumag grinned. “Mmm, I like that. You two gonna put on a nice show for Dumag before we begin?”

“If you want us to,” said Cutter, much to my shock and horror.

“Cutter! You can’t be serious?”

“Sure I am,” she replied. “Why not? It’ll be fun.”

“I…can’t do this,” I said, shaking my head. “Please, Cutter, let’s just get on with Dumag, or else I want to go home.”

She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. Was she actually disappointed? “Fine, whatever,” she said. Madgod! She was disappointed!

I swallowed hard and came closer to the bed, and Dumag held his arms out to me, saying, “Come on, sugar. Let’s get this on, shall we? I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”

Cutter had turned away, and I was surprised that she seemed so upset that I had opted out of giving Dumag a show. I wanted to talk about it, to find out why, but Dumag was eager, and I knew she probably wouldn’t talk about it anyway.

I’ll admit it wasn’t terrible—lets just say that orcs are rather well-endowed. But when it was over, I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to sleep with an orc again. It just didn’t appeal to me. Cutter went with him after he finished with me, and I took the half-drunk bottle of wine and went to sit in a corner with it, wrapping my black, lace-edged shawl around my shoulders to keep warm. I wanted to go back to the inn. I wasn’t in the mood to party anymore, so while they enjoyed each other’s company, I let myself out.

I was still a little on the drunk side, and I walked a bit unsteadily through the foggy streets. Everything seemed more frightening to me when I was drunk, and though my senses were not as sharp, I felt more alert in trying to focus and get off the dangerous streets. I was starting to wonder if having my father’s Seducer bodyguards follow me everywhere wasn’t such a bad idea, after all, and I wished I could have had them with me that night. Usually Cutter walked me home, but now I was pretty sure she was angry with me.

When I heard a set of footsteps following behind me suddenly, I felt even more worried, and I placed my hand on the small steel dagger Sindorin had given to me, just in case I ever needed to defend myself. If anyone tried to attack me, this time I would be ready.

I was relieved when the footsteps soon faded, as if the person had turned in another direction, and I relaxed. Then all of a sudden I came face to face with a tall, well-built man who looked as if he were up to no good. I nearly screamed.

“Sorry, madwoman,” the gentleman said with an eerie smile. “I did not mean to frighten you. I was only out for a stroll; I love the foggy nights in Crucible. They feel so refreshing, would you not agree?”

I stood there, dumbfounded. Was he seriously trying to make polite conversation with me? Or was there something else, something more sinister, behind it? Honestly, I was terrified, and I no longer had my dagger to protect myself with.

When I didn’t respond, the gentleman smiled. “I can see you are not one for talking. That’s all right.” He looked me over for a moment, then his smile broadened and he raised his brow. “Hmm, I wonder,” he said, thoughtfully. “Would you, perchance, be interested in providing your services to me? I realize that it is quite late, and you were probably done for the night, but…well…I’d be willing to pay very generously.”

Suddenly I realized the man was offering me money in exchange for sex. He thought I was a…a street-walker! I almost laughed. But then…hadn’t I just had sex with Dumag for 10 drakes? And I knew I was in a rather desperate situation, not wanting to be out on the streets, so I put on a smile, and asked, “How much are you willing to pay?”

He pulled out a plain leather coin pouch, taking out a few drakes. Not much, for what he was asking…. But then he tucked the money into his shirt and offered me the pouch that was heavy with coins. I couldn’t believe it. There had to have been at least 20 drakes in there, if not more. I accepted it graciously, and then we went into a nearby alley together, where I gave him his dues.

When the man had satisfied himself, he tied his breeches and walked away, vanishing into the foggy night and I pulled open the pouch to see what I had. I was astounded when I counted 25 drakes, and I had to count it again just to be sure. Now I had enough for one more night at the inn, and a little extra. The thought of sleeping with men I didn’t know was not very appealing to me; however, it gave me a bit of an idea, and I hurried back to the inn to get a couple hours of sleep until the alchemist’s shop opened in the morning.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Jun 21 2011, 04:39 PM

[SubRosa]

Chapter 8
So nice to see an episode about Thadon! I have been wondering how he was faring, and if he was still on the fast track to becoming the next Duke. He certainly has a much better relationship with his Duke than Syl does! I liked the contrast this gives us to the House of Dementia, where torturing people is the entertainment for parties. Where the Duke of Mania is the life of the party. I think I would like the Manic parties better... Although from the glimpse you have given us of what that it is like to be Duke of Mania, I can see how it would wear people out.

So Thadon is dreaming about Syl? How delightful! Then his considering that the woman in his dreams is just a symbol projected by his on unconscious, showed a great deal of self-awareness.

Chapter 9

Desperation indeed. Poor Syl is finding out that life is not so easy without a silver spoon in your mouth. She is going to have to learn to work for a living, and it looks like she started with Dumag! Hopefully she can find a better way to make money than that. Given what happens later during her midnight stroll, I guess not! Still I wonder what that idea was she had at the end?



nits:
Chapter 8
You seem to be head-hopping again in the first part. It starts with Thadon alone, so that section must be from his pov. Then as soon as the Duke arrives, we are in his thoughts. Then near the end, we are definitely in Thadon's head, as we know that Syl is in his thoughts.

Even so, he was well-built and unbelievably handsome, with soft brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and those gorgeous and unique eyes.
Unless you want us to think that Duke Antonius is bisexual, and has a crush on Thadon, you might want to reword this (if he is, and he does, then excellent!) At least, my impression was that this was from the pov of the Duke? Maybe it was Thadon thinking of himself?

You head-hop again at the beginning of the second part. We start out firmly entrenched in Thadon's pov as he thinks about the blond hottie. Then we suddenly swerve into said hottie's head, as we know that she definitely wanted to sleep with him. And it keeps going back and forth as the part goes on.

Chapter 9
Are you going with a septim and a drake being the same coin? I bring it up because many people have them being different denominations, usually with the septim being gold, and the drake being silver (so that x drakes equal one septim).

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 19 2011, 06:21 AM

[hazmick]

SYL! I am shocked! Why did poor Cutter get left out, it seems very rude to treat your host in such a way! A brilliant chapter, it is wonderful to see what goes on in that head of yours/hers. I can only imagine what Thadon would say if he heard about this...assuming that he had not consumed his own body weight in greenmote chocolate and still had the ability to speak

[Lady Syl]

SubRosa:oops! Didn't notice the whole septim/drake thing. I meant for it to be drakes; I'll go back and fix that. THanks!

Pov--that's what I probably struggle with most when writing third person, which is why I think I prefer first person much of the time... thanks for pointing that out. I'll go back and figure out how I can remedy that.

hazmick:Yes, Syl and I have become rather entwined, haven't we? I'm not nearly as naughty as she is, though, lol. Only in my imagination!



Chapter 9.2—Desperation

The very next morning, I went to the alchemist’s shop, hoping to buy the ingredients I needed with what little money I had left. Thankfully, I had just enough to buy what I needed to make that elixir I used to make when Cutter and I would steal money from all those lusty men at the inn. I had every intention of doing that again, at least for a little while, so that I would not be out on the streets.

Muurine was surprised when I knocked at her door asking to borrow her mortar and pestle, and she quickly pulled me inside, looking out to be sure no one saw her welcome me into her house. “Of course you may use my mortar and pestle, dear. You can use anything you need—but what is it for?”

“I…want to make some potions to sell.” Of course, that wasn’t exactly the truth, but I wasn’t about to tell her I was going to use it for a crime spree.

“Come,” she said, “you must be quick. You may use my equipment upstairs in my quarters. Are you hungry? Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” I replied with a slight smile. “I do not wish to put you at any more risk than I already am just by being here. I will be quick, and I will let myself out.”

“Well…all right, then,” she said, hesitantly. “Go on upstairs. But let me know if you need anything.”

I thanked her quickly, and then headed upstairs to get to work. Pulling out my ingredients: rot scale and worms head caps for the paralysis, and alocasia fruit to mask the bitter taste, I worked carefully to be sure I got the proportions just right for maximum effect. When I had finished, I had three small vials of my paralyzing elixir, and I tucked them inside my empty coin purse for safe keeping before slipping out without saying anything to Muurine.

******

When I went back to the inn that night, the proprietor, Sharag gro-Ghoth, greeted me in the same unpleasant manner he always did. He was a rather disgusting man, as were most orcs, in my opinion, and he always stank of sweat and stale beer. I nearly gagged when I came near him, and had to force a smile when I sat down at the bar.

“What do you want?” he asked in a rough voice. “Your stay here expired this morning, so unless you got somethin’ to do here other than loaf around, I suggest you leave.”

“I’m not loitering,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. I scanned the room, scoping for any likely victims in my scheme. There were only a handful of men in the tavern, and none of them appeared to have any of the qualities I desired. Sighing disappointedly, I turned back to Sharag and leaned my elbow on the bar, saying, “I’m waiting for someone.”

Sharag grunted in his usual manner and looked me over suspiciously; and I was pretty sure he was also eyeing my bosom. Disgusting! When I noticed, I shifted myself so that it was not so easily glimpsed from his angle.

“Don’t tell me you’re waitin’ for that other tree-hugging friend of yours,” he said. “I’ve had enough of your little games. Don’t think I ain’t figured it out what you two were up to, and I won’t hesitate to call the guard if you think you’re gonna be doin’ that crap again.”

“I’m not waiting for Cutter,” I said in a snappish tone. “And I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Well then, in that case, can I get you anything? A drink? Some food?”

“I don’t have any money,” I replied.

He looked me over again and smiled. “You don’t need money to pay for things, sweetness. I’m sure you an’ I can work somethin’ out.”

I wanted to vomit! I couldn’t believe the nerve of that pig, and I didn’t bother to hide my disgust. “Ugh! No, thanks,” I replied with a grimace. “You’re not my type.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, in a disgruntled tone. “Let me guess—your type is some Imperial nobleman, or some fancy-dressed tree-hugger like yourself?”

“Do you treat all of your customers so appallingly?”

“Last I checked, honey, you ain’t a customer.”

Having had enough, I got up and found a vacant table in a corner, as far away from that smelly orc as I could get. He stared at me constantly, though, annoyed by my presence—or was it something else? I did my best to ignore him and waited for someone new to show up—just about anyone with a full coin-purse would do, at that point. That’s when my luck seemed to turn around.

A very tall and good-looking Nord walked into the tavern, coming from the guests’ quarters upstairs. He noticed me right away, and he watched me closely while going to the bar to get a drink. I cast him a couple of seductive smiles and poised myself in a provocative manner, letting my sleeve slip a little from my shoulder and pushing up my bust enough to tease him from across the room. After a few swigs from a bottle of mead, he finally decided to come over.

“Hello,” he said, looking me over and extending his hand. “My name’s Hans. Are you alone, or are you waiting for someone?”

“I’m Arwen,” I lied while I shook his hand. I was a little nervous about doing this alone, especially since Sharag was already onto me, but I tried to hide my discomfort and forced a smile. “Yes, I am waiting for someone—you, perhaps?”

He laughed a little, then wetted his lips and eyed me some more, saying, “I would love to join you. Maybe we can move this up to my room?”

“You must have read my mind,” I said in a flirty way, as I took his offered hand and followed him upstairs.

Behind closed doors, he eyed me hungrily and began to advance toward me, but I stopped him, asking, “Wouldn’t you like to have some wine first? I’m rather thirsty.”

He grunted and walked toward the bed, saying, “Sure, whatever. Make yourself comfortable. Pour yourself a glass.”

I walked over to the small wooden dresser which doubled as a table in his small room, and with my back turned to him, I opened the bottle of wine he had there. Filling my cup, I asked, “Would you like some, too?”

“Heh, sure,” he answered. “Pour me one.”

“Sure thing,” I mumbled, smiling to myself as I started to pour him a glass. Moving quickly and carefully, I pulled out one of the vials of poison and slipped it into his cup. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, but as nervous as I was about doing this without Cutter, I was also excited. Until I felt Hans grab me by the wrist and roughly jerk me around to face him.

He saw the vial in my hand and looked down at his cup. Then he narrowed his eyes down at me, and growled, “I knew there was something familiar about you. Only last time you robbed me, you were with a friend. You sneaky little wench!”

He shoved me back against the wall, holding me by the wrists, and continued to glare at me, while I pleaded with him, saying, “Please! I’m only doing it to survive! I need the money, or I’ll be out on the streets!”

“So you thought you could make some money at my expense? I should kill you for trying to cheat me…” He stopped and looked down at my bosom then and smiled. “But I’ve got a better idea. I want what I paid for.”

He started to unlace his pants, still holding me against the wall, but I begged him, “Please! Don’t do this! I won’t do it ever again, I swear! Wait! Just don’t hurt me! Please!”

He stopped for a moment and looked into my eyes. “So, are you gonna come willingly to my bed? If I don’t get a piece of you, I just might turn you into the authorities. You think being locked away in Corpserot Passage is better than being on the streets? Go ahead and give it a try!”

I shook my head, terrified at the thought of going to prison. “No, please! Don’t turn me in!” I went over to his bed and laid back; pulling my skirts up a little, I said, “Do with me as you please. Just don’t call the guard….”

He smiled with the satisfaction of knowing he was getting his way, and then he approached the bed. I was terrified, but at least he kept his word. When he was finished with me, he shoved me out into the hallway and locked himself inside—he wasn’t going to turn me in for stealing from him. I was safe—for now.