[h3][center]Matters of the Heart[/center][/h3]
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[i]21st Second Seed, Anvil [s]02:00AM[/s][/i]

After having dinner and wine with Alim, Rhona retreated to her room for the remainder of the evening, keen on staying out of the public eye in case her path crossed with Cezare, and letting herself sober up. Tobias trailed happily behind her. Part of her wondered if Cezare had followed her to Anvil, especially after her brash encounter with him after two years spent diligently traveling. In all honesty, Cezare reminded her of a wolf on the prowl. He would hunt her down no matter what it would take. She crossed the threshold of the rented room, taking in the sight of  the furnishings were simple and few. A wooden framed bed pushed against one wall with a bedside table, where a stout tallow candle sat, like a stoic keeper of the room. She shut the door behind her, sliding the bolt into place, and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the worn plank. When she opened her eyes again, Rhona made her way with care across the floorboards, hearing their protests under her weight as they creaked and groaned. A miniscule flame appeared between her fingertips as she concentrated on drawing her magicka, she lit the chubby candle, watching the fire cling to the wick. Her eyes focused as the flame danced and wavered, growing brighter. The exhaustion consumed her, like the flame glowing, bringing her to sit on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t break her gaze from the dancing candlelight, as if she had slipped into a trance, and even though her eyes were locked on the flame, her mind let down its walls, letting in an overwhelming tide of emotions that caused her throat to tighten. Her eyes began to burn as she struggled to swallow the lump choking her of the ability to breathe. 

[i]Damn it.[/i] She brought the heels of her palms to her eyes, applying pressure to shirk the sensation of crying. Her efforts were wasted. Rhona shook like the last leaf of autumn clinging to a branch in a gusty gale. Sensing something amiss, Tobias approached her, pushing his muzzle against her in his attempt to comfort her. She couldn’t handle the poor goat at this time, and perhaps he sensed that as well, as he took a seat between her feet.

[i]I never wanted this… and Cezare of all people. What did I expect? That I could avoid him for all of these years, and think nothing would come of it?[/i], an anguished sob escaped her, she squeezed her eyes shut tight as hot tears flowed down her cheeks, her hands covering her mouth. No one needed to hear this. And that made her cry harder.

[i]No. Rhona stop this.[/i] she chided herself, but it wasn’t as easy as telling herself mentally. She reclined back onto the bed, curling into a fetal position, she put her thumbs in her mouth, and bit down, trying to give her body a reason to quit crying. Anything was better than this agony, but that didn’t stop the personal attack she slipped into.

[i]I’m nothing but a coward. Look at me. I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this. And I can’t even tell anyone no.[/i] A moan slipped out, one that physically hurt to suppress. Her chest felt tight, and it hurt to breathe, but she didn’t care.

[i]Look at how you’re acting. Why would you ever treat Calen like that? And you have half the damned mind to flirt with Alim? Think of Aurelia, what would she say? It’s been months since she left, and here you are acting as if she never existed. Rhona what the hell is wrong with [b]you[/b]? You’re nothing better than a damned whore without any fucking common sense.[/i] On and on this went, until she had quite literally cried herself to sleep.

[i]Hours later…[/i]

When she woke, the candle had burned low, she knew it was late in the night, but her throat was parched, and she needed something to drink. Her tongue weighed like a mud brick left out in the summer sun, dry and hot, and her head a pounding mess. She moved her stiff legs out from under her, climbing out of bed as if she were an old woman suffering from an arthritic condition on a rainy day. Rhona located the water pitcher on the small table, and much to her luck, it was empty. She contemplated on returning to bed out of laziness, but her bodily discomfort wouldn’t let her. So, she slipped her feet into her boots, and headed downstairs, glancing back once over her shoulder to check on Tobias. He was fast asleep at the foot of the bed. Much to her relief, there were only two people downstairs, the innkeeper cleaning up the remaining mugs from the tables, and a distinct figure seemingly sleeping at the counter. She knew it to be Brynja from her impressive stature alone, she hadn’t removed her armor, and snored softly. 

The innkeeper addressed her on sight, “Is there anything you need lass?”

“I just needed to fill my pitcher of water, if you’d be so kind.” Rhona said.

He nodded, “Sit it there on the counter and I’ll fill it.” She left it where he indicated, and before she turned to head back upstairs, Rhona paused, and turned back around, her gaze lingering on Brynja. The woman needed a proper rest, she didn’t deserve to sleep downstairs if she could help it. She crossed the room, and stopped beside her, taking in Brynja’s condition. Reaching out, Rhona rested a hand against her back.

“Brynja.” Rhona called, shaking the giant of a woman softly. She didn’t move.

“Hey. [i]Brynja.[/i]” She tried again. This time, Brynja uttered a groggy moan, though she still didn’t move.

“[b]Brynja.[/b] Wake up.” Rhona shook her, harder this time, causing Brynja to lift her head. She turned her gaze to look at Rhona, the expression on her face uncertain who was waking her up.

“What?” She growled, her voice hoarse and scratchy, like sand grating against wood.

“I can’t let you sleep down here.” A smile twitched at the corners of her lips, Rhona settled down on the barstool beside her. 

“I was what?”

“You were sleeping. Do you remember where you are?” At her question, Brynja’s eyes scanned the interior of the room, where she groaned in annoyance.

“Damn it… [i]hic[/i]... I guess you’re right.” Just then, Marius reappeared with the pitcher, and seemingly thinking that the now awake Brynja would need water to help sober up as well, brought an extra pitcher, and two tankards. He offered a smile before disappearing into the kitchen. Brynja accepted the water readily, and drank straight from the pitcher. She set it down, now empty, and turned her attention back to Rhona, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“Gods, you look horrible.” Brynja commented.

“Huh? Oh… I… couldn’t sleep.”

“Mm. By those eyes, you’ve been crying.” A silence came between them, causing Rhona to shift awkwardly.

“Why did you fall asleep down here?” Rhona changed the conversation, honestly, she was far too exhausted to even talk about what troubled her. She filled her tankard with water, relishing in the relief it brought her parched mouth.

“Guess I got too drunk… happens sometimes. I gave Anifaire my room, poor lass. She needs a good rest.” 

“You gave up your own room? Where did you think you were going to sleep after that?” 

“I dunno.” Brynja’s grey eyes were bloodshot, ringed with red, and it appeared she had a hard time adjusting to the dim lighting inside. “So, who’s got you all sad and looking like you have a broken heart?” It was like Rhona couldn’t escape her, she fidgeted with the tankard before sighing. Might as well give her an answer.

“Myself.”

“And what did you do, to yourself?”

“I’m being an indecisive idiot.”

“Is it Calen?”

“How-”

“I watched you on the way up here. You avoided him like he had the Bone Break Fever. So, what happened?”

“It’s nothing. Really.”

“If it’s nothing then you can tell me.” Brynja raised an eyebrow, she didn’t like it when people avoided her questions, or tried to play off their inner turmoil. She could see Rhona struggling to muster up the courage to broach the subject, but she needed to come to terms with it if she were going to move past whatever afflicted her.

“It’s a long story.” Rhona tried again, but Brynja only smiled, there was no escaping her.

“I’m listening.” The two women stared at each other, Brynja unwavering in her attempt to get Rhona to speak her mind, and Rhona fidgeting with even finding the right words to say.

“You’re a tough woman.” Rhona groaned through a strained laugh. She shook her head before sighing, “I’ve been traveling the last two years because I left my husband,” she watched as the smile on Brynja’s face disappeared, “and I had met a group of people on my travels. There was a woman… Aurelia… and we became lovers. We were happy together, until she asked me months ago to leave with her and our friends to Valenwood. For whatever reason… I chose not to go. Not because I didn’t love her, but because…”

“Because you were afraid?”

“Yes. I’ve never left Cyrodiil until then, save for our few trips to Rihad. To me, Cyrodiil was safe. It’s what I knew. And maybe I’m just a coward. I don’t know. But I stayed behind, and when morning came, she was gone. Gone before I had a chance to say goodbye.” Rhona took a sip of her water, “I came back from Rihad, and stayed here to raise funds to travel. When I had enough, I headed for Skingrad. And that’s when…” She paused, her teeth biting into her lower lip, “I crossed paths with my husband.”

“Did you both live in Skingrad?”

“No, no. I lived with him in the City, he must have fled with the other refugees to Skingrad. He… he tried to take me back. I didn’t want to go back with him, so I hit him, and I ran. That’s when I ran into Calen. He helped me hide from my husband in plain sight. Quite literally. After Cezare, that’s my husband, had left… Calen took me to wash up, he had smeared dirt and dung on me, made me look like a Redguard woman needing directions. He was kind…”

“And?”

“And he helped lift my spirits that night. Helped get my mind off the idea that Cezare would come back for me, find me, and take me away with him.”

“Why did you leave him, your husband that is?” 

“Why not? He was an abusive drunkard with a bad gambling habit. He almost killed me one night. There’s no reason a sensible woman would have stayed, regardless of what people said.”

“Fair enough. So Calen. It sounds like he treated you kindly. So why the aloofness? Why avoid him after he treated you with kindness? Did you think about how that might affect him?”

“I… I didn’t want him to end up getting hurt. Cezare knows who Calen is, if he saw him with me, he would kill him. Cezare wouldn’t care. I just didn’t want to see Calen get hurt because of me.”

“So you did what you thought was best. You avoided him to protect him.”

“Yes. That’s why Durantel is teaching me how to protect myself. So that if Cezare comes and finds me, which I know he will since he knows I’m alive, I won’t go back with him. No matter what.”

“And did you tell Calen this?”

“...No. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You chose not to be honest with him?.”

“Mm.” A silence came between them again, each drinking from their mugs respectfully. Brynja set her tankard down and gazed long and hard at Rhona. The woman appeared conflicted, and she could sympathize. Her words reminded Brynja all too much on how she handled Rorik and the death of Iona. Instead of telling him the truth, she swept her dirty secret under the rug, and letting that regret to torment her all these years later.

“But that’s not all of it, is it?” Brynja asked through a soft sigh, she could tell from the way Rhona’s body tensed at the question that the woman had not told her anything. And why should she? Rhona hardly knew her, save for the night on the road that she could barely sleep. She shut her eyes, trying to block out the remnants of the lucid dream she had, the anguished face of Iona lying cold and dead in her arms. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s just… it helps when you let out the things that are bothering you, instead of becoming a fire of self-destruction.” 

“Why is it men make us feel the way we do? Aurelia never made me feel so conflicted.” Rhona sighed, her fingers tightening around the slim handle. 

“It’s not men… it’s the idea of being found attractive. The idea of being loved, desired, and wanted. It’s because their words can be poison to our hearts, and we readily cast ourselves off the cliff and into a raging sea of trouble.” Now it was Brynja becoming the somber one. A hard lump formed in her throat, making it hard to swallow.

Her voice cracked, “...and for what? For a chance to be told we’re pretty? That we mean the world to them? That we’re the only ones that could ever make them happy. Men think with their cocks, not their heads.” 

“Your words couldn’t be more true.” Rhona shook her head, she propped her chin up in the palm of her hand, resting her elbow on the countertop. “I just feel… guilty because I flirted with Alim. It makes me feel like…” She paused on seeing Brynja’s eyes squeezed shut, tiny tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“You want to free that heart of yours from its troubles? Be honest. Be honest with your heart, and with others. I promise you Rhona, you won’t feel so guilty. People don’t deserve anything from you, but it’s nice. And your heart will thank you for it.” That silence came between them again, leaving Rhona wondering what had pained Brynja so much. The giantess sighed, a conflicted smiling crossing her lips as she opened her eyes. “You’d better get on upstairs and get some rest.”

“What about you? You said you gave Anifaire your own room, where are you going to sleep?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“I don’t believe that. Come. I’ll give you my bed, and I’ll take the floor. My back could use the stiffness. You need a proper night’s rest.” Rhona rose up from her barstool, and beckoned to Brynja. She knew that Rhona wouldn’t take for an answer, not with that look on her face.

“Fine.”