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In Over His Head	By : MouseyMan Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls Online Views: 1479 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls Online, nor any of the lore/characters/locations from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. (This story is co-authored, but I have sole access to the account.)

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter One
- 1
Yagaritte huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes at her satchel, where her arms were currently buried. Her fingers were reaching for, but not finding, the little bundle of medicinal herbs they were after. A silken strand of strawberry blonde hair, an accidental leaf sticking out of it, fell from her messy bun. She huffed again and pushed it from her face with a puff of air, ignoring the stowaway leaf. She stood, crossing her arms at her chest and staring down, with disdain, at her useless satchel. The medicine was there, she knew it. She had snuck it out of a cavern crawling with winter wolves herself. She had come out unscathed, but the same could not be said for one or two wolves who’d had the misfortune of crossing her path. She kicked it with her booted foot.

“Miss? Have you got the herbs or not?” A fidgeting tradesman asked, looking up at her.

To say Yagaritte was “tall” was like saying mountains are “big” or the ocean is “deep.” It was a true enough statement, but didn’t really cover the scope of what you were trying to convey. She was very close to the limit that people would actually believe their eyes and not question their sanity when they first saw her. She actually lived on a frozen island filled with people the rest of the world already thought of as giants, but even those giants looked up at her.

She was also well aware that most people, especially men, found her somewhat intimidating. She squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest, a silent warning that perhaps the shopkeep ought to watch his tone. She had the herbs for him, that was the end of the story, and he needn't question her as though she were some invalid child who couldn’t accomplish a task as simple as securing a bundle of sticks from a cavern.

The tradesman backed away some, hunching his shoulders down. “I… I… well, please keep looking…” he stuttered, looking over at a gentleman in the corner, and at another, who was by the window looking at a stack of worn Magicka books on a table there. The shopkeeper’s eyes seemed to be silently pleading to both of them to protect him if this giant woman decided she didn’t want to deal with him any longer.

Yagaritte chuckled nervously. “Worry not, I have your herbs,” she said.

Her intimidating looks were deceiving, in a way, as her voice was soft and full, warm and inviting. The tradesman nodded, still eyeing the other patrons carefully.

The young man by the dusty pile of books, who had, up until this point, been surreptitiously pretending he was alone in the room, glanced back at the tradesman, and then toward the looming woman. A small wispy globe of soft luminescence hovered a few inches from his face affording him just enough illumination to decipher the strange runes he had been poring over the last 10 minutes or so, but the moment she had laughed so loud and clear the minor glamour had poofed away with a slight crackling sound. Who WAS that? Her voice was so rich and full, it conjured images of valkyries and feast halls, of warm furs around crackling fires. And her laugh… it was deep and hearty and honest. It was so infectious that he had almost wanted to join in, but had stifled himself at the last moment, as the last thing he wanted was to draw anyone's attention. She certainly had his though.

He had never seen anyone like her in his life. He swallowed nervously. She was paying him no mind, of course, but the fact that there was such a beautiful woman in his presence was enough to get him sweating. He quickly jerked his head back to the table, and picked up a different book at random, burying his face between two pages, willing his heart to slow to a normal pace, because he was sure everybody in the vicinity could hear it.

Yagaritte bent to grab her satchel, and snatched it up, swinging it over her shoulder. She gently brushed passed the tradesman, and made her way directly for the young man at the table of books. She stopped right next to him, and grabbed a enormous stack of books, half as tall as the young man was, and with ease, she gingerly moved it to the floor. Room now on the table, she swung her satchel back of off her shoulder, and unceremoniously upended it over the table. The contents of her bag spilled everywhere. Some small bundles, coins, daggers, vials and other useless trinkets flew across the table, some onto the floor. But… search as she might, the little wrapped package of medicinal herbs was not plainly obvious.

The young wood elf beside her coughed nervously, his heart racing now again, at full speed. He was small, even by Bosmer standards, and he was used to people looking down on him wherever he went. He had felt like a child when he first landed on this frozen island with these giants everywhere, but this woman, she was something else altogether. Even hunched over the table she towered over him, and she was standing so close to him the rather shapely curve of her leather clad hip was all but brushing the side of his shoulders.

She looked down at him, as though seeing him for the first time. She smiled gently. At this close range, he could see that her clothes and armor were dusty, spattered here and there with fresh crimson blood. He hoped it was not hers. The twin daggers at her hips, were also encrusted in blood. That definitely wasn't hers, he thought, gulping silently. He furtively stole a glance upward at her as she was obliviously rifling through her things. Her eyes were a cool greenish blue, the color of the sweet waters off the Summerset Isles, if someone had bottled it in crystal and set it amongst diamonds. They sparkled in the dusty light streaming in through the window, and there was a familiar mischievous twinkle he knew all too well from his years in boarding school.

“P-p-pardon me ma’am...” he finally managed to stammer. “I-- I c--can move if I’m in your way...”

Yagaritte chuckled gently as she looked down at him. It was a hearty sound, one that sounded right at home in her throat. She seemed to be someone who, when not trying to intimidate a tradesman, was easy to laugh. She reached a hand down to his face, her thumb out, but stopped when he flinched. She chuckled again, taking no offense to his reaction, for she was used to it. “You have some…” she trailed off, mimicking on her own face where the young man beside her had dusty smudges on his own.

He blushed deeply, ferociously. He threw the book he was holding away from himself and reached for his kerchief with trembling hands, embarrassed, nervous. He turned from her hastily, and rubbed his face with the piece of cloth, over and over. Yagaritte laughed heartily at this, not in jest, but with a joyful sound. Her whole chest was full of laughter. Everyone in the room seemed to breath a sigh of relief except the gentleman who had his back to her. No, indeed, his face seemed to get even redder still. At this, the tradesman took a step closer to them. “Miss, er… um... I don’t see the herbs…” he said carefully, looking at the mess she had made of his table, and his floor. Truthfully, the herbs were not there.

Yagaritte glanced at him, then again at the pile. “Indeed not,” she conceded, sighing. She shook her head, grabbing her satchel and stuffing her things haphazardly back into it. “One moment, please…” she said, swinging the satchel across her sturdy shoulders and around her back.

Without another word, she went back out of the shop and disappeared down the grimy, muddy street. The tradesman started after her, but stopped at the door, shaking his head. He sighed. She would be back.

The young man stared at the door in bewilderment. The large storm of a woman had vanished as quickly as she had arrived. He wished all at once to see to see her again and to never cross paths with her in the future. It was all very confusing to him. The tradesman, at this point, took his position back behind the counter, willing business to get back to it as usual. The young man tucked the dirty kerchief back into his pocket, searched for, and found, the book he had been originally studying from on the table. A few pages were missing, the rest were smeared and stained… with what, he did not want to know, but that was not important to him. Though he had but a few coins to his name, he knew the value of knowledge, and as small as this book was, it contained information he had yet to know. His sharp mind thirsted for new knowledge, even more than his stomach craved food. Though even as he held it, his rational brain reminded him he would regret this decision later tonight, when his stomach started to growl, hunger gnawing at his insides.

With the book tucked under his arm, the young gentleman approached the tradesman, who was leaning back in a chair, his feet propped up. The tradesman eyed him suspiciously. Though at first glance he was dressed as someone of a noble household, it did not take a very well- trained eye to see that he had not changed clothes for several weeks (months maybe?), and there were telltale signs of battle on his suit as well. A rip here, a scorch mark there. Must be another adventurer, he thought, though judging from the staff covered in runes and topped with a dark red glowing crystal slung across his back, he was more of the cerebral type.

“Can I help you?” the tradesman asked, though it came out in way that conveyed “you better have a way to pay for that book.”

With the Nord woman gone, his usual disdainful personality was back with a vengeance.

The young man blushed again, feeling exposed under this man’s gaze. He set the book on the counter and waited in silence. Normally, people would bargain, make deals, anything, to walk out with what they wanted, having spent as little money as possible. Not this man. The tradesman could tell he wasn't good at bargaining. He had no face for bluffing. And while he may be talented in many other facets, this was clearly not one of them. He reached into his outer pocket, fingers reaching for the meager number of coins he had there, tied up within his tiny coin purse. But he felt something different there, something bulkier than his coin purse, something with string wrapped tightly around it. His throat caught, and he looked down, holding his pocket wide. It was a little package, an odd shape, wrapped in cloth and tied up.

It was the medicinal herbs the Nord woman had been searching for. The little bundle must have fallen into his pocket without his knowledge, when she had dumped her bag on the table.

“I…” he stammered, his head snapping up to look at the tradesman, who didn’t seem aware of the young man’s discovery, and he was thankful for that. “I’ve lost my money,” he said stupidly. And before the tradesman’s sneer could turn into derisive words, the young man shot around him and ran for the door, tripping clumsily in his haste to reach for the handle.

Without another word, the second weirdest customer of the day was out in the street, trade ALSO incomplete. The tradesman looked at the only patron left in the shop, and prayed to Zenithar they wouldn’t do the same.

* * * *

Yagaritte dropped her satchel on the cobblestones at her feet, looking up into the summer sun. Though it was indeed summer, there were still patches of snow on the ground and upon the roofs, water dripping from half melted icicles dangling from the eaves. She closed her eyes and warmed her face. It was not cold to her, not even in the slightest. Even though those around her rushed by in lush furs or tattered rags, huddled over to keep warm, she had only her armor and thin boots. She didn’t even bother with her furs this time of year. In fact… the sun was making her a bit warm. She unlaced her deer leather reinforced bodice and unbuttoned her shirt. There, that was better, she thought to herself. The “girls” were getting a bit cramped in there all day anyway. Yagaritte was not just tall for a Nord woman, she was also bustier than most, curvier of hip than most, even narrower of waist then most. The Gods had been kind to her… and then gotten drunk and decided to show off. Not that she thought so, or that she even cared really. Though, she did know how to use it to her advantage when the situation called for it.

And sometimes even when it was just for fun!

She looked toward the west, where the sun was just starting to set. She sighed softly. She had already raided the caves once today, she did not fancy doing it again. She reached into her satchel and pulled a worn map out looking at it intently. There was another cave, slightly further, but perhaps with more abundant herbs, or maybe not so well guarded by winter wolves, she wondered, hopefully. She folded the map back neatly, and tucked it back into her bag. With the sun setting soon, she didn’t want to travel so far, even with the chance that it could be an easier job this go ‘round. And with that, it was decided, she would revisit the caverns from earlier in the day. But first, a snack.

Speaking of snacks…

Her thoughts strangely went back to the snack-size young man at the shop. Yagaritte didn’t recall ever seeing a full adult man as small as he was. Why he barely came up to her… she flushed a bit at what she was thinking, which was a bit disconcerting for her because she didn’t generally flush about anything (unless she was full of drink). He had to be grown to have that much stubble on his chin, didn’t he? He was cute, sure, but just so... incredibly small. She recalled seeing that smudge of dirt on his cheek and instinctively wanting to clean it from his cherubic face. He had probably thought she was crazy.

And anyway, why was she thinking about him at all? Because of her size, she tended to go for men who at least could look her in the eye without being mounted on horseback. But, still, there was something about him… she smiled to herself as she pulled her food from her satchel. “Yagaritte, old girl, you’ve been out in the field toooooo long,” she said, to no one in particular.

* * * * *

The young man pulled the collar of his jacket up as he trudged through the streets, dodging beggars and sweeping shopkeepers. Though his clothing, to the eye not keen on the finer details, was rather elegant, it did not provide much protection against the cold. It would be getting dark soon. The wind was surging from time to time as if to remind him he wasn’t prepared for what was coming. He’d suffered through more than a few nights of this already, now that the rest of his savings had been exhausted by one of the local inns. Already his cheeks were colored a bright pink, and his teeth were chattering.

“Why did I pick such a terrible place to run to?” he asked himself quietly, shaking his head. But in truth, he hadn't picked it. He had simply handed 90% of all the wealth he had in the world to a shifty looking Khajiit who had promised to get him “Soo farrrr from wherrrre you arrrre even you won’t find yourrrrr way baack!”

He forgot to mention he also wouldn't be able to find work, or any source of money, and on some occasions, not even a warm place to spend the night.

They had laughed at him when he tried to join the fighters guild. “On an island loaded with real men who can swing a sword, who's going to hire a midget with a stick!? We’ll call you if we need you to read a book at someone!” He’d wanted to argue with them at that point that THIS midget could burn down the guild hall with THAT particular stick… but had again held his tongue to avoid unwanted attention.

He shook his head at himself again, and looked up, squinting against the setting sun. “Where am I going… WHAT am I doing? Why am I so determined to become involved with that mountain of a woman? With ANY woman for that matter?” he berated himself.

Aside from his mother, he’d never had much luck with any woman, romantically or otherwise. His heart twinged at the memory of his mother, but he pushed past it. It was desperation, he told himself. That and his innate concern for anyone who struggled to survive. She may be a giant, but she did not look like a rich giant. He had no idea what those herbs were worth, but he knew they were worth something to her, and that in itself was enough reason to continue his search.

Had he had a proper soul gem he could have enchanted some semi valuable object as a locator. Then again, if he had a proper soul gem he could have sold it for enough gold to buy a week at the best inn in town and still have money left over. The wind blew a particularly strong gust right up the back of his tailored jacket. He turned toward the now setting sun in a futile attempt to warm himself in its final beams of the day.

That’s when he saw her.

Statuesque, beautiful, strong. The ripening sun struck her coppery hair and made it shine bright as any precious jewel he had seen before. She had that raw, primal beauty that was only achievable by someone who didn’t care if they were beautiful or alluring. She was leaning against the outside of a clothier’s shop, her bag at her feet. She had a small indiscernible bundle in her hands, and she was taking huge, gulping bites from it. At that, his stomach growled. He had been looking for her for the better part of an hour, but now confronted with her practically glowing as the sun set behind her, he froze.

“Now what? What do I say… what do I do?? What if she laughs at me?” he agonized. That laugh, that deep throated, melodious, enchanting laugh. It had had an almost mesmerizing effect on him back in the shop, strong as any Magicka he’d ever seen or produced. It was what made him glance in her direction. He was standing there debating with himself if he was willing to face her scorn just for the chance to hear that laugh again, when she happened to look up.

Yagaritte smiled when she spotted him, a bit of crumb sticking on her chin. She waved him over. He made a soft sound of disbelief and panic, but moved towards her all the same. He might be shy. He might be nervous, but... he was NOT rude.

“You didn’t buy a book?” she asked him as he slowly shuffled toward her. She noted that his face was red from the cold, and his clothing not properly suited to the climate. Like her, he did not have on a coat. The only difference was, he was clearly suffering for it.

“E-Edovan…” the young man murmured. Yagaritte looked at him quizzically, then laughed, that beautiful, full laugh of hers. She offered him what was left of her meal in one hand, and held the other out, empty, for a handshake. “Yagaritte,” she said. The customs of this man’s home land must be very strange, indeed, she thought to herself.

Edovan took her hand, though his own was trembling, but despite the cold weather, slightly warm (and sweaty?). Yagaritte took it, paying no mind to the state of his clammy skin. Her own hand was warm. Almost hot to him. She laughed again, breaking the shake and pushing the food bundle between his fingers. Edovan took it, cradling it against his chest. As hungry as we was, he was not entirely sure he was ready to accept this stranger’s generosity. Yagaritte paid no mind, and instead bent to sling her satchel back across her shoulders, stretching her arms out wide as she came back up. She stifled a yawn.

It was then that Edovan remembered the little package of herbs in his pocket. He fumbled with the food, but folded its packaging neatly, sliding it gently into the pocket on the other side of his jacket. Who was he kidding? He would eat it without a second thought, the moment he had a chance. He reached into the other pocket and took the bundle, holding it out to her. He didn’t know what he was thinking… what her reaction would be. He only wanted to return her prize to her. He had no idea what to expect, but as he saw the blaze of lightning in her eyes, he realized his mistake too late.

In a flash she had grabbed him by his collar and hoisted him into the air effortlessly. “Why you little thief!” she thundered, as she threw his small frame against the shop wall, feet dangling in midair. “HOW DID YOU TAKE THAT FROM ME!!!” she demanded to know.

He should have been terrified, and in truth, he very much was. The rational side of his brain was ringing all sorts of alarm bells, the logical voice in his head said flatly ”...this is it… this is how you die...” But at the moment, it was being overruled by the more primitive part of his brain, the primal part responsible both for the survival and continuation of the species. For at this moment, the giant woman had pinned him against the wall of the shop with her rather prodigious bosom, and he could feel the warm satiny soft skin of her breast against the bottom of his cheeks on either side of his face. And while it was a lovely feeling, probably the softest thing he’d ever been allowed (or in this case, forced) to touch, he knew it would not end well.

“N-no.. no!” Edovan stammered, eyes flicking back and forth in a panic. He was trying to form words but his brain was in a pink haze, his mind foggy, and he was starting to sink further still into the canyon of her cleavage. “I found them!” he gasped finally, as his face sunk further, somehow. “I-I found them in my pocket!” he mumbled, voice lost amongst her flesh, hoping she would believe him.

Yagaritte looked down at him, as his face had reddened beyond that of just the cold. She was suddenly aware that tiny man’s face was buried in her breasts and that more importantly HE was aware. His voice seemed so strained and muffled that she started to laugh, but stifled it, eyes glimmering like someone who’d found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. This was a true jackpot! She decided to have a little fun with him…

She intentionally loosened her death grip on his collar and straightened her back, pressing into him even more, pushing her chest against his face further, pinning his head back against the stone. She could see the blush reaching now even to his ears. If it were possible, she thought, his whole body... hair, clothes, and all, would blush in embarrassment at this moment. She laughed again, enjoying her power over him. Her anger abated somewhat, she continued to tease him

“What's the matter little mouse? Don’t you find me attractive? Don’t you like my breasts?” she asked, her voice taking on a noticeably sexier tone, husky and heavy.

She knew how to play it, and she knew the answer to that question already. He was practically glowing red. There was the most imperceptible hint of a nod, though he did not look up into her face, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. She wasn’t about to let him go that easily, though. She decided to use this opportunity to gather what information she could, for there is never a better time to do so, than when you basically hold a man’s life in your hands. Or cleavage. Either works, really.

“Good,” she said, slowly leaning her neck down to bring her face as close to his as possible. “Because if you don’t start talking, and giving me answers I like... you… little mouse...are going to drown in them.”

She spoke slowly and deliberately, and the ‘them’ was an obvious reference, even to someone whose brain had all but turned to mush. She smiled, an overly wide smile that was more predatory than friendly, as she bared her perfect teeth.

“I see the large staff you are carrying, you’re some sort of mage, I take it. Did you use magic to take my herbs?” she asked him.

Edovan squeezed one eye open, looking up into her face after a few moments of silence. She was not blushing at all, as though she were used to crushing men to death with her enormous chest. In fact, her eyes had that familiar mischievous twinkle, and he knew that meant danger.

”I found them in my pocket!” he gasped into her cleavage.

Her mouth curled up into a smirk, and her eyes did not stop their twinkling.

“Ohh, nooo...” she teased. “Looks like you're getting heavy... I can barely hold you up…” she said in mock distress, her hands trembling.

She released his collar and placed her hands flat against the wall on either side of him. She held him in place by the sheer pressure of her body against his, but she shifted her angle back ever so slightly so he began to sink again.

Oh, this was too easy! Panic lit his face as he realized how much of a compromising position he was finding himself in.

“No no no, it’s true... y-y-you must have… they must have…!” he trailed off helplessly, his mouth and brain worthless in this particular predicament. He took as deep of a breath as he was able, and tried again. “It must have fallen in my pocket when you dumped your bag on the… mrmmrmmffff!!” The last of his sentence was lost amongst her breasts, never to be found again. She paused at that, biting her lip in thought, her wolfish grin gone for the moment, her face softening just so. It was actually plausible, and something she had not considered. His slow descent halted momentarily.

“So you’ve followed me?” she asked, instead, deciding not to let him off the hook just yet... how else would he learn? Her tongue flicked out and licked at her peachy-tinted lips. That was a move that always drove others insane. “I didn’t know I had a stalker,” she added, as Edovan squeezed his eyes tight again. It appeared he didn’t have an answer for her.

Edovan tilted his head back as far as he could, to take another breath. He started to struggle a bit, which only made it worse, as Yagaritte’s breasts were a force to be reckoned with, a fact she was well aware of. She let her hand fall down from the wall, setting it on her hip.

“I’m not a stalker, I swear!” he huffed, having gotten his breath back, staring back up at her more boldly than he had done anything since they had first met. She raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe he had a little fire in him after all. As she looked down upon him, she noticed then that he had a rather handsome face. Large slightly angled soft eyes, those sculpted elven high cheek bones. His skin was darker than Nords, but smooth and flawless, and his tousled brown hair still had a particularly well-kept sheen reserved for those of a higher class.

Yagaritte leaned back imperceptibly, giving him just enough room to breathe, but kept pressing against him with her lower torso so he remained at the level he was. She still wasn’t done with him. “Then why are you here?” she asked him, pushing a strand of hair from her face, annoyed. Why did it never stay where she put it!?

Her breasts were no longer pressing in on his face, but still touching, and still far too close for comfort. Edovan diverted his gaze upwards, into her face, which was also beautiful and scary, but somehow less intimidating than her breasts.

“I’m a not a stalker,” he repeated, far more calmly this time. “I just… I just wanted you to have y-your herbs…” he added, holding his hand up again, open. The small bundle was still there, slightly crushed and a little sweaty.

Yagaritte tilted her head, she started to reach for the bundle from his palm, but hesitated. She was suddenly suspicious. That didn’t make any sense. Did he know know their worth? Could it be an elaborate plot orchestrated by the thieves’ guild? But no… what purpose would that serve? She thought back on her many, many past liaisons. There were any number of men, women, angry wives, even angry husbands, who might want to pull a fast one on her. But they would all be here in person, most likely...

Perhaps he was telling the truth after all? But that begged a different question. Why would some foreign man, who only happened to be in same place as her for a brief moment in time, care if she were reunited with her missing herbs?

She looked down at him there, his cute tiny blushing face peaking out from the deep valley of her cleavage. Hmmm, she thought, I see TWO reasons right here!

“You sure that’s all you wanted?” Her voice had gone husky again. Her eyes flashed and the predatory grin was back. “Maybe you really wanted these...” She said, as she pressed her arms together, squeezing his rather pleasing little face even tighter between her peaks. If that’s what he was really after, she might be willing to oblige. But only after she’d had her fun with him, her way. She brought her leg up between his and not so subtly pressed her knee up into the fabric of his tailored breeches.

He was really starting to struggle now, a full on struggle with feet kicking, hands trying in vain to push her away. Not that it made any difference, she was much more powerful than he was. She was enjoying this far more than she should. She hadn’t had this much fun in a while!

“Told you so,” The logical voice in his head flatly intoned. Well, this was the end. The walls were closing in around him, the pressure was increasing, and it was getting darker as his face was buried in flesh, mouth and nose now completely covered and sealed by the soft but heavy mountains rising up around him. His vision was starting to narrow as darkness seeped in slowly around the edges, his mind dimming. He could hear and feel the vibration of the steady thumpthump of her heart. It called him like a drumbeat into the darkness.

He had a half delirious thought that if he died here, they should damn well bury him here, right here in the ivory-pink mountains that had been his undoing. Then, he could hear that melodious laugh for eternity. Feel it rumble through and all around his bones, a warm, pleasurable feeling that would last forever...

“This wouldn't be so bad...“ his lizard brain said.

”Let's just rest right here...“

Logical brain nodded in silent agreement.

It struck him, then, just as the last bit of light was fading, as he had accepted his fate. A jolt of electricity passed across his synapses, instantly snapping him to full awareness. The one thing he could say that might appease the amazon bent on burying him alive in her bosom. Or at the very least, give her pause. The TRUTH. He had wanted to get her her herbs back of course. But that wasn’t the real reason he had been freezing himself, wasting his precious energy on a fool's chase.

Yagaritte was staring down at him as her power trip faded. Oh gods... is he turning blue? She realized then that he was no longer kicking or putting up any struggle, just hanging limply between her arms. But just as she was about to release him (and possibly try to administer a different kind of mouth to mouth), she saw him stretch his head upward one last time.

Edovan took a deep breath and then blurted loudly: “Your laugh!!”

The words hung there in the silence. She stared at him quizzically for a few seconds, her composure a bit shaken. She lowered her leg, tilting her head as she straightened up some. “My… what now??”

“Your laugh… th-th that’s why I followed you…” Edovan said, even as he gasped for breath. His head felt fuzzy, muted, muddled.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her brain was working furiously. Yagaritte knew men, she knew plenty of them, and they were all the same. They all wanted something from her, usually with very little in return. Her praise, her body, a job... some even wanted her to “punish” them, a fate she may or may not oblige, depending on her mood and how much ale or whiskey she may have consumed at a particular feast night. She knew men, alright, and could take them or leave them at her own whim. But this small one was different. He was not some wealthy dilettante, with a thing for tall girls, or lecherous old noble who wanted to keep her for his collection (Long story, that. She still had his best furs as her camping bedroll...). She had determined, within this short amount of time, that this man, this diminutive, shy man, could not have stolen her herbs.

He had never stolen anything in his entire life.

She stared down at him again and was suddenly conscious of two facts:

First, were his eyes always that golden? They looked so big and soft and kind, but somehow tinged with a deep sorrow. One that caused her heart to clench in her chest.

Second, why was she was still all but smothering him with her breasts??

Her heart skipped two beats this time. This was no slimy weasel to be trapped, this... was a perfect, skittish fawn, the kind you never expect to see until you barge into a clearing in the woods... and its just standing there, staring at you like the damn Prince of the Forest… and you exhale... and he darts away into the trees leaving you momentarily breathless... and and yet somehow, changed forever…

Or, at least, for the rest of the day.

For the first time in her adult life Yagaritte didn’t know how to handle a man. It was very unsettling. She wanted to talk to him, find out more about him, but he probably just wanted to get as far away from her as possible now, after she had tried to end his life by breasticide.

She placed her hands at his sides and gently, gingerly leaned back, slowly lowering him till his feet were once again on solid ground. She breathed an internal sigh of relief to see that the color had settled back into his face, no longer red, no longer blue.

She slowly took the package of herbs from his still outstretched hand. She tucked the herbs into her belt to keep them safe, and then gently began to unruffle and smooth out his now rumpled clothing. “You’d better hurry home,” she said, looking back at the sun, which had almost set entirely during their conversation. It would get colder soon, and some unsavory things happened in these streets under the protection of night. “I’m sure your pretty little wife is missing you dearly,” she added nonchalantly.

Edovan blushed again, shaking his head fervently (wife!? He’d never even courted a woman before, much less married, or lain, with one...).

Yagaritte laughed at his reaction. She had suspected as much, but she had to be sure. Not that NOT being single had ever stopped her before. Yagaritte was of the firm opinion that if anyone was in a strong relationship they wouldn’t stray, so the fact that someone wanted to stray with her meant their relationship was in trouble anyway. She herself had had many marriage proposals over the years, but had no truck for that kind of folly. If you don’t tie yourself to anyone they can’t cut the cord between you. Still, with someone as pure as this little fawn, she would have at least thought twice before bagging and tagging him!

She adjusted her satchel closer to her body. It wouldn’t do to leave herself open to pickpocketing. And definitely no good for the fool who would try it.

It was time to lay out the bait.

“A strong young man like you, still unattached? What a pity. Well, I must be going now little mouse... thank you, for bringing back my herbs. Maybe I’ll see you around? ” she said, pressing a small coin into his hand, that seemingly came out of nowhere.

With that, she turned abruptly and strode off, heading back towards the town center. She furtively glanced behind her to make sure he was watching and added just the right amount of swing to her hips, not enough to be sent to a brothel, but enough to send the signal she intended.

“Wait... what just happened?” Edovan’s mind raced. One second he was about to blackout in the ample bosom of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the next... she was just striding away!? Did he say something wrong? That he complimented her laugh… really, was that it? True or not, he doubted that was something women longed to hear. Or had she taken a good look at him and decided he was too small to be of ANY use in ANY capacity? He blushed again at the thought.

One thing was for sure, his rational brain still needed to find a source of income, some food, and hopefully a warm place to stay for the night. And the one adventurer who had ever given him more than a passing glance was now quickly disappearing from sight.

“Oh gods, he's right behind me…” she realized. So maybe she didn’t know this man. This was new. He was following her, and that was problematic. Where she lived..was not a place she wanted him to find out about on a first date. She quickened her stride. He wasn’t even making any pretense of tailing her. He was just right there, two steps behind her, looking for all the world like they were traveling somewhere together. She sped up again. HOW was he keeping up? Damned wood elves were faster than she thought.

Her strides were at least three times as long as his own, and he practically had to run to catch up to her, and jog to keep up. She did not stop, and did not acknowledge that he was there, absently adjusting her satchel, or her daggers, or her hair. She headed directly for an inn, a trip she seemed to have memorized. She tipped her fingers at the homely woman behind the counter as she passed through the enormous oaken doorway (it seemed they were quite familiar with one another), leading Edovan into a brightly lit restaurant on the base level of the inn, bustling with patrons and servers.

Yagaritte was frantic. He wasn’t supposed to FOLLOW her. She was executing a long game. He was supposed to go home to wherever he was staying, and then the next day he would ask everyone in town about the giant strawberry blonde with the scary daggers and everyone would say “Oh that’s Yagaritte!” and then she would appear right there in the exact same spot in the setting sun. You know, the one where she tried to smother him?

Hadn’t she nearly killed him?

Why was he RIGHT THERE???

The woman waved a rag at Yagaritte, and then pointed at Edovan. It was unusual for her to be accompanied by someone so… small. Just so very, very small. Yagaritte rolled her eyes and stopped suddenly, causing Edovan, who was far more preoccupied with the hundreds of delicious smells coming from the inn’s kitchen, than with following Yagaritte, to crash into her. “Tsk,” she intoned, putting a hand on his head and pushing him away from her. “Go home little mouse, this inn is the Horny Boar,” she said, turning him back towards the door. “And not a place for you.”

Edovan dug his heels in. “W-w-while it might be true that I don’t care much for boars… least of all lusty ones… I h-have just as much a right to be here as you do..” he said with more than a little conviction, struggling against her grip, trying to turn back towards her. He had had too many cold nights, too many missed meals, and his desperation was driving him to be bolder than he had ever dared before.

Boldness wasn’t breaking her grip on him though, as she palmed the top of his entire head the way a child would palm a ball of string. He could feel her warmth radiating into him.

“Besides… you owe me!” he added, his fear making him… well, fearless.

She had to think of something quick. He REALLY didn’t belong here.

“Do you have gold for a room?” Yagaritte asked, spinning him around abruptly, and with ease. He was but a doll compared to her. She crouched down so that they were face to face, she took his chin into her hand again, as she had done before, and forced him to look into her eyes. “Do you have gold for a meal? Gold to tip this kind woman here?” she asked, waving an arm at the woman behind the bar.

And just like that, his ballooning new found courage he had discovered... deflated, just like that. She had poked a hole the size of some very large thing in his feeble attempt to believe that he might possibly belong in the same room as someone as beautiful as Yagaritte.

She was right. Clearly he had misread the situation. He didn’t know a thing about girls, after all. He’d just assumed since she had actually talked to him, touched him (nearly killed him?), that maybe she might be different. But she didn’t need him to do anything for her… she was a goddess. All his boldness had been stripped away by the harsh reality of her words. He ceased pushing against her hand and just stared down at the muddy floor.

He was just about to turn to go when Margara, the woman behind the counter, laughed. It was not as elegant or beautiful as Yagaritte’s (Edovan was sure nobody’s was, in the whole of Tamriel), but it was kind. “Yagaritte, deary, be kind to this little one,” she said, coming from behind the counter. Her dingy skirts were tied up, kept free of the ground, which was dusty and dirty with the muddy bootprints of a hundred patrons. “Remember, you were in his position once,” she reminded Yagaritte gently.

Now it was Yagaritte’s turn to look defeated. She dropped her head, breaking her gaze from Edovan’s. Margara took Yagaritte’s hand gently and took it away from Edovan’s chin, squeezing it tenderly as she did so. “Do you like sweets, little mouse?” she asked him. Yagaritte stood up and silently went over to the bar, dropping her satchel at her feet as she sat down. Her back was to them, and she ignored them. A barmaid quickly brought her over a pint. Yagaritte took it and chugged it.

Why had she seemed so sad suddenly? And what did the woman mean about Yagaritte having been in his position before? Edovan had to draw his gaze away from Yagaritte, shaking his head to clear it before he looked up. He nodded at the woman, who was smiling down at him. While she was clearly Nord, she was not nearly so tall or well-built as Yagaritte was, and she shared none of her beauty. She gently moved him toward a small table near to the fire, and produced a bit of chocolate from the depths her skirts. “Nibble on this while I fetch you something from the kitchen,” she said.

Edovan took the chocolate gratefully and sat down, unable to believe his sudden change in luck. He reached to pull his staff from his back, and carefully set it against the empty chair beside him. The dark red crystal atop it seemed to come alive in the jumping light of the fire. He unwrapped the chocolate and took a small bite from the corner. It was clear this was from the woman’s personal stash, as it was already half gone. Not that Edovan cared, he was happy to have anything to eat, much less chocolate, which was a luxury he hadn’t been afforded in quite some time. But even as his heart sang with the joy of a promised meal, he couldn’t help but turn back to look at Yagaritte, who was still occupying a stool at the bar. There were now two empty steins in front of her, and she was gulping down a third. Edovan bit his lip, unsure if he should call out to her, or let her be. It seemed she wasn’t suited for company at the moment, for even as he watched her, she irritatedly waved off a man who had taken the empty stool beside her.

She should not be sad, he thought. Even though less than an hour ago she was literally squeezing the life out of him, he felt somehow responsible for her sudden change in mood. Was she sad because of him? Did he need to leave? It made sense if she was penniless once, that just being around him might conjure up all sorts of unpleasant memories from her past. He wanted to hear that full throaty laugh again. See her smile light up the room and make everyone at ease. He was suddenly very conscious of his fine tailored clothing. Ripped and scorched and frayed now, it had clearly seen better days, but it still stood out somewhat. Back when it had been presented to him as a gift by his parents for finishing his third year studies at the Stormhaven Academia Magicka, he was pretty sure the coin used to purchase it could have bought everyone in this inn more than a few night’s stay, with money left over. He knew better than anyone how sudden changes of fortune can affect people. He imagined it was much the same looking back for her as it was for him looking forward. Edovan looked wistfully at the warm fire. Took a long huff of the air scented with hot food, heavy and heady with ale. Well, this had been nice, but there was nothing for it. She was right. He didn't belong here. He knew then what he needed to do.

When the innkeeper returned with large bowl of thick steaming soup and some fresh bread rolls, she found the chair empty. The remainder of the chocolate was sitting on top of a neatly folded but slightly stained and wrinkled silk handkerchief, along with a small pile of meager coins. Margara set the food down on the table, and reached for the coins. Perhaps the young man had misinterpreted what she’d meant? She had no intention of taking his coins. She was a little sad to think he’d slipped off into the night alone, cold and still hungry...

Or at least he had tried to. Apparently he had almost made it out the door, just as Margara spied him again. Unluckily for him, Maraga wasn’t the only one who saw him leaving. He had caught the eye of Bernadette, the most infamous of her… maidens, so to speak. Infamous because though over average size for a Nord woman, she inexplicably had a thing for the smaller patrons of the Boar. Margara clucked her tongue. Bernadette’s “tastes” were a bit too exotic/dangerous for the uninitiated. They had experienced only one real close call so far, but still, it was better to be safe than sorry...

“Where you goin, love?” Bernadette drawled, slipping with the speed of a cobra between Edovan and the doorway, just a moment before he had been able to escape. She pulled him around and looked down into his eyes hungrily as his back went up against the wall. Her scarlet dress was done up in a noble’s fashion, it showed off its owner’s tall and curvy hourglass figure quite well, but was obviously tailored with less fine materials, lacking the minute details of a true noblewoman’s dress. It was a nice charade, but only held up because her dress was usually in a rumpled pile on the floor.

Everything about her was red. From her dress to her long curly hair, the color of a dancing flame. Her lips were painted an obnoxious red, a shade that men usually fell prey to, as it made her mouth extra pouty, and particularly sensual. Her full breasts of course, were as propped up and pushed together as they could be, practically at her throat. They, too, were painted, a rosy tint that matched that of her cheeks. If she had been an animal in nature she would have been trying very hard to attract a mate, or warn of possible danger.

In Bernadette’s case it was an emphatic “both.”

“You’ve only just arrived…” she trilled, biting her lip as she pressed her hips against the top of his chest and hooked a very long shapely leg around him from behind. She slid down him a bit, her hand sliding up his thigh with little reserve. Once again, he was pinned against a wall, at the mercy of a much larger, more powerful woman.

Margara approached Yagaritte and nodded towards the door. “Looks like your little mouse has found himself some trouble,” she said, taking the empty steins from the bartop and dropping them into a basin of soapy water. She propped her elbows up on the bar and watched them silently. That poor boy...

Yagaritte jerked around and found Edovan with Bernadette, the woman practically trying to mount him in the middle of the room. She grinned, then chuckled to herself. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to watch… at least for a little bit. There was little in the world as entertaining as this, she thought.

“I… I…” Edovan stammered, squirming against Bernadette’s advances. He looked past the wide hips of the painted woman, over at Yagaritte, who waved at him as they caught each other's eye. HELP ME! he mouthed. Yagaritte simply shrugged and pointed at her ears, miming that she was unable to hear him, and therefore unable to help.

Bernadette leaned down and put her mouth against Edovan’s ear, her breath hot and smelling of alcohol, with a hint of mint. Her tongue flicked out at his lobe. “Come on, love… don’t be scared,” she purred, bending over him, nibbling now at his earlobe. The hand she had on his thigh moved between his legs, and she cupped him there ever so gently. “I can be gentle… or rough…” she continued, and at ‘rough’ she squeezed his cock through his pants. Edovan’s legs gave way at that, and he slumped downward, sliding slowly down the wall at his back, his face as red as a summer apple and burning with embarrassment. His collapsed moved him from the frying pan into the fire however, as his face was now level with her pubic bone, which was now pressing painfully through her skirt against his nose.

“Ooohh you know JUST what I like…!” she drawled, quickly lifting the hem of her dress with one hand and grabbing his head from behind with the other. She drew him between her legs, under her skirts, and pinned his head to the wall.

From her vantage point at the bar, all Yagaritte could see was Bernadette with her legs slightly apart, grinding her pelvis toward the wall, with a pair of boots, protruding toes first, from under her skirts, and two arms flailing at the sides of her hips. She burst out with laughter at this ridiculous scene, and finally got up from her seat at the bar. She strode over to where Edovan and Bernadette were, pressed against the wall. The shameless woman had already started to moan as she rhythmically rolled her hips in small forward circles with slowly increasing speed.

She tapped on Bernadette’s shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, towering over the other woman. She still had a smirk on her face.

Bernadette slowly turned from the wall to face Yagaritte, careful not to dislodge the hapless little Bosmer still stuck between her thighs, the front of her skirts piled between them. She looked up at Yagaritte haughtily, and scoffed. “I don’t see your name on him,” she said, her fingers still curling into the top of Edovan’s head as she slowly ground against his face. “And he didn’t say no,” she added, grunting as she thrust her hips forward. Which was truthful, but he also hadn’t said much of anything... and couldn't now, even if he’d wanted to.

As if to respond to her statement, Edovan made a quick attempt to disengage, but she deftly hooked her upper leg up over his shoulder, curling her shin around his back possessively, both hands forcing him even further down into the generous gap between her thighs. “Beside, he’s too small for you, but just the right size for what I like,” she cooed. She smiled wickedly up at Yagarrite and gave a sharp upward pull on the hair on the back of his head as she tilted her hips forward. He seemed to somehow recede in to her. Edovan emitted a wet, muffled squeak.

It was still a ludicrous scene, but Yagaritte had had enough. The little Bosmer had started to make drowning noises. And, she thought, with more than a twinge of guilt, he was already one over his daily quota of being suffocated by strange women he’d barely met.

She reached down and grabbed the back waistband of Edovan’s breeches and with a speed and grace that startled both him and his aggressor, plucked him from her thighs, hauled him up through the air, and brought his body against her own, his back against her front. She put an arm across his chest, the top of his small head safely nestled protectively in the nook between and under her breasts.

“He’s mine,” she said simply, narrowing her eyes dangerously at Bernadette.

Bernadette was momentarily startled by how quick he had disappeared from her still tingling nethers, but quickly adjusted. She rolled her eyes up at Yagaritte, crossing her arms over her chest, standing firmly as he skirts fell around her legs again.

“Why don’t you let him decide,” she dared. This was clearly a contest for her now. They had known each other from around the inn, of course, but they had never had cause to cross paths before, and she was sure no man in the world would choose this massive, clumsy woman over her.

Yagaritte laughed at that, the sound radiating all around Edovan, flesh jiggling atop his head. He was still pressed firmly against her body, the obvious possessiveness with which she held him was a small comfort, and a protection from this woman who meant to... well, he honestly didn't know what she meant to do. Drown him and then rob him? She would have been so disappointed.

“You’re foolish to think he would have part of… WHATEVER it is you plan to do with him,” Yagaritte said, looking down at Bernadette, who, though quite a bit taller than Edovan, was nowhere near as tall as she was. Compared to Yagaritte, Bernadette was all but a dainty little girl.

Bernadette smirked, leaning in towards Edovan. “He knows exactly what I plan to do with him,” she purred, talking directly to him now. She pointed a finger at his nose and then pulled up her skirt in front, exposing her firey red bush, and pointed at her nethers. Then she drew her finger upward against her skin, tracing an invisible line up from her pubis to her pelvis, between her hip bones, and then patted her abdomen. She grinned a wide, wicked grin. As she finished, she licked the side of his face, her hand dropping her skirt and coming up to grab his hair, pushing her fingers through it. Edovan squeezed his eyes closed, equal parts terrified, aroused, and extremely confused. He started the day a lonely man with nary a companion, and now he had two women who were… fighting over his company? One who had tried to kill him already, and one who apparently wanted to try another, even more exotic method. Logical brain was beginning to wonder if maybe he had been better off before. Lizard brain was just thrilled to have breasts on his head again.

Yagaritte flicked her ear, sighing in annoyance. “Off with you, little girl,” she said, as Bernadette recoiled. She reached up and held her ear, baring her teeth at Yagaritte. “Go on. Run off,” she repeated. Bernadette all but hissed and turned away from them, storming passed Margara who had just approached from behind.

“Don’t you harm her face,” Margara warned. Bernadette was one of her best girls, of course, and she liked to keep them in good shape. Yagaritte waved her hand. She was fine, and it hadn’t even been her precious face, besides.

Yagaritte dragged Edovan back over to the table where his dinner was still sitting, only it was starting to get cold. “You’ll eat your dinner,” she told him, pushing him back into the seat and shoving a spoon into his hands. She acted as though nothing had just transpired, as though she hadn't just claimed him as her own. Margara came over and plunked down the coins Edovan had left on the table, she smiled down at him, warm and genuine, and left again without a word, bustling back behind the counter. Yagaritte took the seat across from his and sat down, crossing her legs, and her arms. “Eat,” she repeated, as Edovan stared at her dumbfoundedly, the spoon slack in his hand.

Edovan was at a loss. He grabbed his previously abandoned kerchief from the table and began thoroughly drying his face. His head was spinning, and slightly damp. And the smell of the painted woman was still thick in his nostrils. He still had no idea what was going on, but sitting across from her now, he was still concerned about Yagaritte. First she had been sad… then she said he was hers? Hers how? Admittedly, she could have said it just to scare the painted woman away, though Edovan had no doubt she didn’t need any help in that department. He bit his lip, then started speaking slowly, halting between each word as if he didn't know what the next one would be.

“I… don't… you… and then... but she, and then YOU…” his voice trailed off, but there was specific emphasis on the “YOU” that spoke volumes. He stopped and looked down at the floor, then around the room, anywhere to avoid looking her in the face.

It was then that he noticed that Yagaritte, and Margara, and his attacker (who was already dragging some short Dunmer up the stairs)... were far from the only women in this room. There were dozens of them, scattered all over. All very attractive Nords. as well, though none as tall (or as beautiful), as Yagaritte. Some were dressed regally while others wore outfits he had never even seen before, just strips of cloth with beads! Some were lounging, some talking to patrons. A few were dancing for a group of rowdy Nords in the corner, each with glasses in their hands and eyes on their assets. He’d been so focused on Yagaritte, and then food, and then trying to sneak out, that he hadn't even noticed. The Horny Boar… of course! God's he was thick sometimes.

Yagaritte grinned. “Now you get it?” she asked him, as she saw him look around the room, his face lighting up with realization, then reddening. “You’re a bit on the slow side, aren’t you?” she added, chuckling. Of course, she was only teasing, and didn’t mean any harm by it.

Edovan blushed deeper, if that were possible. “No!” he spurted. He looked down at the bowl of stew in front of him. “...well, maybe a little,” he admitted. “But I was… I was distracted!” he finished, sighing. So now she thought he was a simpleton. Perfect.

Still grinning, Yagaritte leaned over the table and reached to pet his head carefully. “You’re not slow...” she said with as much honesty as possible. As much fun as it was to tease him, she truly didn’t want him to think that she actually believed that little bit of misinformation. Edovan swallowed thickly… that… that had been the gentlest touch she’d bestowed upon him, a hand that was so massive, but incredibly gentle, that he only just felt it atop his head. She made a face, though, as his hair was still damp with Bernadette. She silently wiped her hand on her breeches.

“Yagaritte… why…” he sputtered, putting the spoon down. He was hungry, and it was gnawing painfully at his insides, but he couldn’t let this moment slip by, this was a tender moment, and though he knew next to nothing about her, even he could sense her walls were down, at least momentarily. Yagaritte looked at him, waiting. “Why were you s-sad… earlier…” he finished, not really able to look into her eyes. He was terrified that he would see that sadness there again, and he wasn’t sure his heart would be able to take it.

Yagaritte smiled sadly, and indeed, her eyes lost some of their sparkle. She closed them and exhaled. “When I first came here, I was like you,” she said quietly, looking back up at him now. She reached for a bit of the bread Margara had brought with Edovan’s stew, and held it between her fingers. “I was penniless, I was homeless…” she continued, turning the bread over and over in her hand. She tore a piece off and squeezed it absently between her fingertips. “I was... kicked... out of my home by my father, nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and a pendant necklace from my mother,” she said. “She thought I would be able to sell it for gold, but I couldn’t part with it…” She cleared her throat, reaching absently to the thin silver chain that disappeared into her armor.

“My little sist--” she trailed off, the look of pain in her eyes doubling, glossing over as she looked beyond Edovan, into the past. She was quiet for some time, contemplative, her hand still at the chain around her neck. She seemed to shake herself free of her memories, her eyes focusing again, gaining back most of their usual devious glinting. “But that’s enough about me,” she said, seemingly slipping back into her usual self. She ripped a huge bite out of the bread and chewed it happily. “Eath your theww…” she said, talking with her mouth full as she waved her hand at his bowl.

He wanted, of course, to ask her more about what had happened... but he also didn’t want her to be sad again. Edovan sat quietly for a few seconds, looking contemplative. Then he dipped his spoon into his stew and stirred it around. Thankfully, it still steamed a bit, and was actually just now at the perfect temperature for eating. He leaned over the bowl and inhaled the aroma. His mouth was salivating in anticipation. He savored the moment. He was just about to take a large scoop of the rich dark broth when he suddenly paused, looked around the room then looked back at Yagaritte. Then he looked around the room again... then back at her. He seemed to be working something out in his head…

Yagaritte laughed heartily as she watched him, his facial expression saying everything that was going on in his brain. “Keep your mind out of the gutter,” she said, completely amused. “I’m an adventurer,” she said flatly. “Don’t get any ideas,” she added, still chuckling.

“Oh… no... I would never…” Edovan blushed again.. but looked secretly relieved. “I mean… you are certainly pretty enough…” his voice trailed off as his logical brain put the steam brakes on the thought lizard brain was about to say out loud. Now an even rosier shade of crimson, he dug into his soup. He started slowly, savoring each bite, but soon was picking up speed with each spoonful. In no time at all, he had downed the entire bowl… and was sopping up the last savory bits with a large hunk of bread when he suddenly paused. “Did you want the last piece?” He looked at her and smiled as he extended the still dribbling bread in her direction.

“Being a good whore isn’t about how pretty you are,” Yagaritte said wisely, as she reached for the bread. “In fact,” she continued, stuffing it into her mouth. “...it’s not about your face at all. It’s about your tits, and your ass, and if you know how to use them,” she said bluntly, knowing that such talk would only continue Edovan’s blushing embarrassment. Which, of course, was exactly what she wanted. She grinned at him. “And for those facts, I would indeed make a great whore!” she exclaimed wolfishly.

Edovan, who was pulsing crimson, just as she suspected he would, looked away from her quickly. Lizard brain had instantly recalled the feeling of her soft cleavage against the side of his face, the huskiness of her voice as she teased him… the warmth of her body against his when she had rescued him from Bernadette’s attention. Suddenly he had a brief vision of Yagarrite’s fingers entwined in his hair as SHE guided his small face down under HER skirts and up into the sweet musky darkness hidden underneath.

“Ye Gods man... what are you thinking?!“ he shivered at the secret thrill of it. Thanks to Bernadette's crash course in female anatomy, he was now intimately familiar with what women were like betwixt their thighs. Breaking himself from his trance, he was filled with confusing feelings.

“D-don’t talk about yourself that way!” was all he managed to mutter aloud, trying to look anywhere in the room instead of at Yagaritte or any of the other women. He didn’t have many places to look.

Yagaritte laughed. “There’s no shame in whoring,” she said simply. While it may not be a noble profession, it was a profession all the same, and afforded many women (and some men), who wouldn’t otherwise have the opportunity, a chance to make their own money, to live an independent life.

“I’ve never done it, but maybe I should give it a try after all, hmmm?” she added lasciviously, biting at her lip. “What do you think?” she asked him, her voice taking on that sensual, husky quality again. She had leaned in toward him as she spoke, her linen shirt somehow had unbuttoned its top 3 buttons to the point her voluminous bust was threatening to spill out. The last fastened button was holding on for dear life. And there was the barest hint of the darker skin around her peaks emerging over the top of the strained fabric.

“Would you fuck me?” She growled, her voice all low and sensuous. She winked.

On that note, a horrified look crept across his face. He got up abruptly and said “Excuse me!” and quickly walked awkwardly to the door of the inn, and slipped out it into the night.

“Really? That’s all it took? Guess I’ve still got it!” Yagaritte said, looking back at Margara with a grin as she crossed her arms triumphantly behind her head. Margara shot her a wink, chuckling to herself.

After less than a minute or so, he re-entered the inn, teeth chattering, cheeks blueish, snow on his boots. By this time it had become something of a scene, so every single eye in the tavern was watching the door when he returned, one hand trying to cover the crotch of his breeches from view. Several of the girls tittered, and the male patrons flat out chortled.

Yagaritte was leaning lazily against the wall just inside the door, her arms crossed over her chest, her feet crossed at the ankles in a relaxed posture, as Edovan came blustering back in. “Are you done making a spectacle of yourself?” she asked him, as she tossed her barely used cloak over his shoulder.

Edovan caught the cloak and flipped it around his shoulders, shivering. Thankfully it was large enough to not only warm him up, but it covered his embarrassment with ease. Not that it mattered, everyone occupying the inn’s tavern was smart enough to figure it out. He wanted to squeeze between the floorboards and disappear forever. But since that wasn’t an option, he looked up at Yagaritte, silently pleading.

“Come on,” she said with a sigh, pushing away from the wall and putting her arm across his shoulder. She couldn’t deny that face, and even though she took immense pleasure from making him suffer, there was a line even she knew she shouldn’t cross, at least in public. “Let’s get you situated,” she said, nodding at Margara, who nodded back, watching curiously.

Whatever Yagaritte planned, Margara was behind her, a hundred percent. Just as she had helped Yagaritte all those years ago, she would help Edovan. She could see the same look in Edovan’s eyes, as she had seen in Yagaritte’s, and that was not a look she would let walk out the door alone.

Yagaritte swung by their table and grabbed her satchel and his staff that he had left behind in his haste, and she steered Edovan towards a stairway that was hidden by a wall off to the side of the room, near the bar. Edovan smiled at Margara as they passed. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Not only had she fed him, but she did it free of charge. Even in his state of embarrassment, his manners were well in tact, and he could not let her kindness go unnoticed.

“You’re welcome, little mouse,” she said gently, giving him that warm, kind smile of hers. As they came closer, she held a small package out, that Edovan recognized as the last bit of chocolate she’d given him earlier. Margara didn’t say anything, only continued to smile as Edovan took the sweet from her hand. With that, she turned back to the bar and huffily shooed a man away as he tried to lean his snowy, muddy boots onto the bar top.
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In Over His Head