3rd First Seed
Jehanna, Town
It was the first day for several days where it had not rained heavily, and the sun had broken through. There was still a chill in the air, and despite the brief break in the clouds— the threat of squall remained up above, and the scent of rain still lingered. It had soaked through the stone walkways and into the brick of the houses and shops that lined the town.
One such place where that scent could not be found, was the flower market of Jehanna. Come rain or shine, it opened every fifth day without fail, and even today - amongst the dreary, and mist strewn streets - carts and trolleys were set up in their rows, sellers tending to their wares. Through the middle of the aisles, a woman walked slowly, her head turning this way and that to peruse the offerings. She took her time, the heels of her laced leather boots falling softly on the stone beneath her feet. Velveteen trousers in black, striped with white provided plush warmth from the chilling kiss of the early morning, and she hugged a matching cloak around her torso and arms. The white fur lining of the hood draped perfectly over her dainty shoulders, and across her collarbones.
The woman was the height of sophistication - barely blending in with the people around her in their simple linen aprons and petticoats. Even her presence carried her higher than the other men and women in the row, in fact she barely acknowledged them. It was as though this market was her own street, and she was free to enjoy it at whatever pace she desired.
Her scent trailed behind her like a ghost. Sweet vanilla, bright orange, the softness of lavender and just a hint of the biting warm spice of peppercorns, as alluring and distinctive as any of the flowers in their boxes and vases. She came eventually to a stall which held her attention, picking up a huge bouquet of wildflowers, all in varying shades of blue. From a powder blue, through to cornflower, azure, and then to the almost black of midnight.
Raelynn Deserine held the bouquet out and remarked upon it with a gentle smile — the world around her, again, did not exist, or it did and it’s existence was merely for her… She was drawn to the thistles in the centre of the arrangement. So unique, so sharp, surrounded by the ultimate defence and yet it bore the most stunning colour in its strands of petals.
“Beautiful, don’t you think M’lady?” Said the seller, thumbing over his apron with a smile at her - gazing into as much of her grey eyes as he could from his vantage point.
Raelynn brought a thumb to her lip and nodded slowly. “Quite…” she replied after further examination. “I’d like them, but more thistle in the arrangement…” She wasn’t sure why she found herself so drawn to the thorny wild flower she’d paid little attention to in the past, but when she observed it today, she found a beauty within that she simply couldn’t resist.
The florist took the bouquet from her, and got to work with her request while the Breton lady further mused on the correct order for the rest of her morning tasks. She still had certain items to procure…
An Imperial man in riding clothes, his black hair still damp from the mists outside Jehanna and his boots splattered with mud, also slowly perused the stalls and wares, unsure of what exactly he was looking for. He enjoyed flowers, sure -- he even grew roses in his garden back home -- but he found that he was devoid of inspiration on what to buy today. His face was therefore set into a scowl more fierce than he actually felt and the shopkeepers whose advice he could have used avoided speaking to him… or even meeting his dark gaze. In his hands the man carried a letter and he ran his thumbs and fingers over the parchment obsessively while his eyes scanned the flowers, and his brow furrowed even deeper.
My love,
First things fist: I have arrived in Jehanna safe and sound, and continue to find myself in good health and prosperity. The country here is beautiful and verdant, and the people sophisticated and kind. I believe that you would like it here.
A fortuitous turn of events has led me to a merchant’s business by name of Deserine that may be able to help me in my quest. Just as I cautioned, however, mithril is rare and expensive and the merchant is not willing to part with it without adequate compensation. I find myself in their employ in the meantime, working to build up enough credit to obtain the mithril I need. Things are going well, and I suspect I will not be gone longer than the months I estimated before leaving.
I have also made a friend here. He is a Nord by name of Fjolte Soriksen. A true man of the wilds, large and loud and very, very friendly. We work together for the merchant sometimes, and other times we make merry and I spend my evenings in laughter. I should like to invite him to our home, should he ever find himself in Cyrodiil, so that he might meet you. Please let me know if that would be appreciated.
My love, I miss you. Every day my longing for you grows greater. I hope that you are well. I shall endeavor to bring you the most beautiful flower in all of Jehanna when I return. Accompanied with this letter is a sample of the floral beauty on offer here. Please give our families my warmest regards.
Forever yours,
Gregor
With a slow and frustrated sigh, Gregor looked up at the sky, hoping that the sun would break through the clouds and banish the shadow that hung over his soul. It did not answer his call and he forced himself to return his attention to the sea of colors, the only brightness in the otherwise dreary day. That is to say, until his eyes fell on a woman in black and white, similarly perusing the markets. His breath caught in his throat. The letter weighed as heavy in his hands as an anvil. That she should find him now, of all moments. Were the gods taunting him? He was fixed to the spot, unable to speak or to turn and walk away.
And so the gods taunted her too, upon turning her face to carry along her way, she saw him there. Dampened and with just enough dirt on his clothing to suggest heavy travelling, or scaling of the wild roads. Something recreational and calming, a show of the noble masculinity that was at rest within him. Raelynn said nothing at first, turning her eyes away — as if to feign that she had seen him in the first place. It had been over a week since they’d… Since their evening together.
Since Gregor had left her in their bed, to save their being caught. She was immediately reminded of waking alone, pained, and lonely the next day. That had been the first day of heavy rain. Raelynn had been forced by the vicious weather to stay in the Manor for one whole day longer. A torturous day, when all she wanted was to be alone and to process everything - she had instead been confronted with servants, with Lord Desena, and with Hugo.
After a moment of deliberation, she realised she couldn’t ignore him. If nothing else, it was simply rude. With her bouquet in arms, she walked slowly to Gregor. He was the blockage in her path, the environment around her would cease to be solely hers again until she made right with the Imperial. She approached with as warm of a smile as she could bring out upon her countenance. Harsh weather like this agreed with her, she felt powerful in it — and it was hard to tone that down to friendliness.
“Mr Mercurius,” she smiled, dipping her chin and lowering her head in polite curtsy to him. “A pleasure to see you this morning…”
He swallowed. There was no getting around it now. But the more he looked at her, the more he found that he no longer wanted to. The things they had done were inexcusable -- Gregor knew that. He had lingered after the ball for hours only to ambush Raelynn alone in her chambers at night, with a single purpose. He had forgotten and betrayed all of his wedding vows. She was a poison, anathema to his life and all of his duties, and yet… seeing her like this, her smile, her piercing eyes, Gregor remembered why her hold over him was so strong. At first he had been surprised and a little hurt that she hadn’t called upon him, and with time that hurt had turned into guilt as he remembered his wife back home. Had they both crossed personal boundaries that night?
“My lady,” he said and returned her smile with one of his own before dipping into an Imperial curtsy himself. “The pleasure is all mine. It’s… been a while. I trust you are well?”
“I am today,” she answered frankly, indicating to the scene around her. “I’ve been holed up inside from the rain. This fresh air has been, well, a breath of fresh air…” Raelynn smiled, blinking slowly at the Imperial. There was a certain awkwardness and she didn’t know why. The things they’d done to one another, there shouldn’t be any at all. The Breton decided she didn’t want to think about it.
“My apologies, there has been very little work this last seven days. Fjolte has visited but I’ve had nothing to give him. I think he decided in light of that to go on a retreat into nature,” she smiled with a light-hearted chuckle. “You haven’t been bored, have you?” She asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.
The casual way with which she spoke put him at ease and he laughed while stepping up to her and offering her his arm. “No, no, I’ve kept busy well enough. I went riding today, as you can probably tell, and the days before as well. The guards do a good job of keeping the forest paths clear of dangers so that the local nobles can ride. Did you know that?”
Raelynn took his arm as it was offered, supposing to herself they’d walk for a while now. As she brushed over him, even with the layers of fabric in the way she felt a slight spark of electricity between them. More so than ever before, he was forbidden. “I did not know this,” she said to him with a content sigh. “But, it is strange you should cross my path today— it is for the purposes of finding sufficient riding boots that I am out of my chambers.”
“Really?” Gregor replied with a quirked brow. “Then perhaps we can help each other today. I happen to know of a very fine equestrian leatherworking shop, but…” It was a ridiculous idea. Asking Raelynn, of all people, to help him with this completely defeated the purpose of doing it in the first place. And yet… he could feel the spark of electricity as well. It was exciting because it was so illicit, as were all things with her.
He sighed. “I need a flower. Something beautiful, to accompany a letter for the homefront. I find that I’ve simply no inspiration today.” Gregor gestured over the sea of flowers. “I don’t know what to pick. Would you be so kind as to lend me your feminine eye for a moment?”
His question took her by surprise, and a breath caught in her throat as she considered it.
A letter for the homefront. Raelynn had little notion as to what he meant, and something about the way it made her feel dissuaded her from asking any further questions. “I can… I can lend you my eye, yes,” she said at last with a nod. “Something beautiful…” she mumbled, releasing herself from his arm to walk closer to a stall. She turned back to look at him, “do you… Want for something with a fragrance? A bright colour? Something with longevity?”
“A bright color, I think,” Gregor nodded. “Something that survives being packed and dried and shipped for weeks with its beauty intact. It’s a far trip to Bravil, you see.” He followed her to the stall at a distance with his hands clasped behind his back, the tails of his black coat brushing against his boots softly. “Is there such a flower?”
Raelynn looked down, pressing her thumb to her lip— “I would think that there is only one flower worth sending as a memento of your time here,” she said quietly, making her way down the rows with keen eyes looking out for a particular flower.
After a moment of two of searching, she happened upon them. With great care she lifted one from the metal bucket by it’s long stem, turning back to look at Gregor with it pinched delicately between her fingers. “A Jehanna Stargazer…” Raelynn said, holding out the flower to him. It was a lily, petals white around the edges that faded from pink into a deep indigo - the stamens orange and contrasting to the petals. It was as elegant a flower as any.
He took the flower gingerly between his finger and his thumb and marveled at it for a moment before he said anything. It was perfect. “It’s beautiful,” Gregor said and looked back at Raelynn, a strange mixture of emotions in his eyes -- gratitude, admiration, and something more. He blinked and the usual darkness returned to his gaze. He smiled and bowed his head. “Thank you, Raelynn. This is exactly what I was looking for.”
“One thousand painters could try and one thousand painters would fail to capture it,” she breathed, eyes lifting between the flower and Gregor. It felt nice to help him, to see the way that he looked at the flower, and how that intensity transferred in his glance at her too. She felt a swell of emotion in herself. “To me, the flower makes me think of Jehanna and her cold winters - the icy, shrewd peaks that surround us, and yet beneath even that there is incredible beauty and softness… It’s a beautiful flower, I’m sure the homefront would be delighted by it.” Raelynn smiled, and then she recognised that she had to turn away from him — she busied herself by looking back over the flowers on display, caressing them gently with her fingers. She wanted his touch…
He was surprised by her poetic description. It was a side of her that he hadn't seen yet and Gregor couldn't resist a smile at knowing that there was a sensitive, artistic soul behind those eyes as well. "Well said," he hummed and purchased the flower from the shopkeeper in a short exchange of septims. "I'm sure she will." He'd said the words before he realized and glanced at Raelynn to gauge her reaction. Could they be normal friends that talked about such things? Was this even friendship? Even now there was a spark between them. It wasn't sexual, but it was… affectionate, and intimate in its own way. Once again, Gregor knew that he shouldn't. It felt like a twisting of the knife to acknowledge Briar's existence with Raelynn, after everything.
But the alternative was walking away, and he didn't want that either.
"So, you wanted boots," Gregor said as he rejoined Raelynn's side, the flower now wrapped in paper to protect it as he cradled it in the crook of his arm. "I assume you have a stylistic preference?"
Part of her wanted to walk away. Part of her wanted to take the flower and wrap her fingers around it until it broke… Instead, she did nothing. She did nothing but let that anger sit in her stomach like a huge question. Why? Why did she feel that way when he mentioned her? It was just like the physical strangeness in her body after their intense evening, this was just an alien feeling too - a parasite of emotion she thought she understood, and still she just wanted it to be silenced. To drown it out with all the water of the ocean behind her, or bury it beneath an avalanche. "She will," Raelynn said with a smile and from behind empty eyes.
With a blink, and after swallowing it down she moved on. She allowed him to move the conversation on, she needed him to. "Yes, boots. I'm to go riding. I've never actually…" she admitted nervously, stepping onwards. "I'd like a heel, if that is possible."
“Ah, let me guess,” Gregor said with a knowing smile. It didn’t extend to his eyes either. “Hugo wants to take you riding.” It had been exhilarating and thrilling to take Raelynn under his nose, but now that he was confronted with the evidence of their continued courtship the silversmith found that it annoyed him. Hugo didn’t deserve her.
But who was Gregor to make that kind of judgement? Raelynn wasn’t his, either; her choice of partner was not his business. “A heel should be possible. The soles need an indentation for the stirrups in the middle, but what happens on either side of that is up to the rider’s preference,” Gregor reassured her, trying to force the snobbish lord out of his mind.
"He has a new horse, he'd like for us to ride together," Raelynn explained, turning her face away with a slight smile. As annoying as Hugo seemed -- the thought of riding horses out in the open was deeply romantic, and the Breton had been taken aback by the suggestion. "It's not very often I leave Jehanna," she added before turning her face forwards again. She had nothing to feel so coy about, she was a single woman.
She couldn't help but chuckle at Gregor's advice. It was nice to listen to him talk about something he knew about. He was a practical man, of course he knew these things. "I'm glad it would be possible, I don't think I'd like to be seen dead in a flat shoe… Of any kind. Or ever," her nose turned up and her eyes narrowed. She meant it.
It was his turn to laugh. “Naturally,” he added. “What kind of lady would be willingly subjected to such indignities? We shall have to be very firm with the cobbler, but fear not: a heel you shall get.” Gregor shot her an amused glance.
"Not a lady as short as this one," Raelynn replied - a flash of mischief in her eyes as she placed herself at the centre of the joke. "Where is this leatherworker then? And I… I daresay I owe you for what you did in the vault." She cleared her throat and stole a sidelong glance at him before continuing. "Would you allow me to buy you a meal?"
“By the north gate, strategically located near the stables,” Gregor answered her first question. He raised an eyebrow at her second question and a smirk forced itself onto his face. “I was of the opinion that I was already quite handsomely compensated for that little incident,” he said in a low voice, and then added in his usual volume: “But I wouldn’t dream of turning down such an invitation. I should like that very much.”
"Your compensation remains in my chambers in a coin purse," Raelynn said quickly, stopping in her tracks to look at him dead on. She let her stern words sit in the space between them for a moment before carrying on ahead of him. "Anything else was… A performance based bonus." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a flirtatious expression. It was just too easy fall into that habit, he brought it out of her.
Gregor grinned deviously. “See, I was talking about the dinner that Lord Desena thoughtfully provided for Fjolte and myself,” the Imperial said casually and stroked his beard with his free hand. “But it’s gratifying to know that this
bonus of yours remains so close to the surface of your mind….” He looked at her and nudged her playfully with his elbow.
Raelynn's mouth formed a pout, and she shook her head. Displeased that she'd fallen into his trap of words. She huffed out an almost comically petulant breath and stepped on ahead, placing a free hand on her hip. "Let's get my boots. Less of your jests too," she warned half-heartedly, "or your meal will soon be little more than a slice of bread and ham."
Satisfied at having vexed her with his cleverness, Gregor buried his smirk into his beard and bowed his head, suitably chastened. “Of course, my lady. My deepest apologies,” Gregor said in a dutiful tone of voice. “This way.”
On the way there Gregor made a little detour and paused outside of a courier’s office, itself located near the gates. “A moment, please,” he asked and stepped inside the place. It smelled like horses and hurried men. Gregor found the clerk and managed to arrange a reasonable price for the delivery of the letter and the flower, with instructions that it should be pressed and dried to maintain its beauty for the journey. Once he handed them over he felt lighter immediately, symbolically having washed his hands of the burden of responsibility, and he returned to Raelynn with a spring in his step. The letter would buy him more time in Jehanna and the flower would placate her moody temperament, Gregor knew.
“Thank you for your patience,” he said as he offered Raelynn his arm again. “I hope you didn’t mind.”
The Breton had kept herself busy - or more precisely, a pair of playful young girls had. She was kneeling on the ground when he left the office, taking out select flowers from her own blue bouquet. A hydrangea each for them both, which she had pushed into their hairstyles in a way that made them match. On the brown haired girl, the flower was positioned on the left side, and on the red haired girl it was on the left.
"There now, you can be both be Ladies too…" Raelynn told them. The two young girls giggled before thanking her and skipping away with their heads held high and proud. She watched them before taking Gregor's arm again. "Not at all, you had your own business… I understand that."
His gaze softened as he watched the girls skip away, the flowers Raelynn had given them standing out against the muddy road and the grey stone of the buildings and the sky. Briar had over the years developed difficulty in dealing with children, and when Gregor looked at Raelynn he saw the untapped and untainted motherhood that she still possessed. He was suddenly beset upon by a powerful longing to do this with her every day -- to walk the streets arm in arm with her, if only just to be near her and to see her like this. He forced himself to focus on what they were doing and smiled. “Thank you. You’re a natural,” he said and gestured towards the girls. “Do you have any nieces or nephews, perhaps?”
While walking, she found herself struck at the personal nature of the comment, and the following question. Her face softened in a way that suggested she wasn't entirely sure of how to answer or respond. "No nieces, no nephews. I… I work with children, they get sick too…" Raelynn explained. "It takes a different hand to settle a child than it does to settle an adult." She cleared her throat and tried to recall an example.
"I once was called to the bedside of a young boy, he was terribly sick from the cold and he was delirious and frightened," she said, her voice low and her tone carried importance. "The only way he would let me near enough to touch him was if I read him stories, placated him with grand heroic tales," she laughed at it. "Fairy dust and magic stars…"
“You understand your craft well,” Gregor said with genuine admiration. He looked at her fondly and saw yet another side to her. How many different facets of Raelynn was he yet to discover? He could have never predicted that such a woman would await him beneath the sculpted icy veneer of their first meeting. It was a sobering reminder never to judge a book by its cover. “The children of the world are lucky to have you.” Gregor chuckled. “And some others are too,” he added softly.
Their feet had almost carried them to the leatherworker’s shop, but there was enough time left for one more question. “How would you placate me, if I were angry and delirious with illness?” Gregor asked, part playful and part sincere in his curiosity.
"They don't stay children forever," Raelynn said thoughtfully. "One way or another, they stop believing in that kind of magic and see the world and its people for who they truly are, Gregor." For all of the warmth she'd displayed, there was a bitter sting to those words.
Not wanting to divulge further, she set about to thinking on his question. The Breton sighed and locked eyes with him, was he fishing for a certain answer? What did he want her to say? Raelynn smirked and bit her lip - narrowing her eyes mischievously, "I'd make you tea with honey and fairy dust," she began, wrapping her arm tighter through his and lowering her voice. "I'd bring you bread, cheese, and magic stars," she continued, tilting her head back to direct her words to his ear. "Then I'd tell you stories while combing unicorns wishes through your hair."
The bitterness in her reply surprised him and Gregor let it pass without comment when she obviously wished to move past the sentiment. Her subsequent answer to his question made him smile at first and then laugh in earnest, a rumble of amusement in his chest and the back of his throat. “Well played,” he admitted. “I believe that makes us square. You jest, by the way,” Gregor said in a low voice and looked her in the eye, “but I do believe that would work splendidly on me, as long as you did it.”
"If you were truly angry and delirious with illness, I don't know what I would do." Raelynn said, pleased to have made him laugh at least - and to have jabbed him back for his earlier joke, still it was a reasonable question and she couldn't shake the image loose. In her mind, she pictured him lying beside her by the fireplace after she'd tended to his wounds. How they lay side by side gentle and tired for the first time. Her head turned, almost as if she was reaching to place an affectionate kiss on his shoulder but she thought better of it.
He's not yours."I'll just try my best, if the moment should come… I'll know then." She finished.
“Fair enough,” Gregor said with a nod. He believed her when she said that she would know. From what he had seen, she was nothing if not resourceful and capable. “Strong intuition is all you need sometimes.”
They stepped up to the store, marked by the saddle that hung over the sign above the door which Gregor held open for Raelynn. The interior smelled, predictably, immensely like leather, and Gregor inhaled the fragrance gratefully. It was a smell he had always enjoyed for as long a he could remember, and the way he ran his fingers over the saddlebags on display on their way to the counter made him look like he had almost forgotten that Raelynn was there.
“Gregor, my dear fellow,” the voice of the leatherworker called out and the Imperial looked up to see the now-familiar face of the kindly, older Breton. “Back yet again? Those boots not doing it for you?” His gaze fell on Raelynn and his smile widened. “Or are you my prospective buyer for the day, madam?”
Amused, Gregor smiled at the man. “Luellin, how could that be? These are the finest boots I’ve ever sat astride a horse with and you know it. Modesty does not suit you.”
Luellin chuckled and waved dismissively. “Save your sycophantic jabbering for the gods in the afterlife.”
“Very well,” Gregor said and inclined his head. “Yes, we are here for Miss Deserine, as it so happens. She requires riding boots of her own.
With heel, Luellin.”
On cue, the leatherworker raised his eyebrows and placed a hand on his mouth.
”With heel? Say it isn’t so, my dear fellow! Why didn’t you call ahead to let me know that I would be expecting a
proper lady in my premises?”
Gregor grinned. “Oh stuff it, you.” He turned to Raelynn and whispered in her ear. “I’ll leave you to it. He’s a little eccentric, but you’re in good hands.”
Luellin waited expectantly, a beatific smile on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"My associate is correct," Raelynn began as she stepped up to the counter to greet Luellin, having to consciously tear her eyes from Gregor. "I am looking for some well fitting riding boots."
The store was beautifully set up and arranged, with every surface polished and cleaned down. Nothing was cluttered and she found that the overall aesthetic was pleasing to her eye. Despite it being filled with craft materials, and various wares it was an incredibly relaxing store -- made only more so by the dutiful and kindly nature of the owner.
Her gaze tracked the room, it was warm and inviting and Raelynn almost wondered if it would be a nice place to simply sit and read and wait for the work to be done. With a sigh she turned her attention back to Luellin, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I wonder if you may have maroon leather, perhaps of deer pelt origin. A heel of at least two and a quarter inch. Laces, too. Brown or black lacing." Her finger was pointed out as she listed, very succinctly, her requirements for the boots.
"I am… A novice rider, and the occasion is special so I'd like to impress." Raelynn finished, bringing her hands together and in front of her.
Now that the time had come to discuss business, Luellin listened attentively. "Your ladyship has fine taste in materials," the Breton said. "But perhaps too fine for a novice's riding boots, if I may be so bold. You will need the firmness of the boots to help keep you in the stirrups. Deerskin leather is a beautiful material but it's quite soft. My recommendation would be tough cow hide."
He then smiled. "But I agree with maroon. That will truly make your eyes pop!" he said and emphasized the last word by mining an explosion with his hands.
She appeared disheartened at the thought of cow leather, but relented with a brief shrug. "If that is your recommendation, then I suppose cow hide it shall be." Raelynn wondered how easily they would be to break in, and her lips turned to a thoughtful frown. "I shall need some woolen socks then, or they will be uncomfortable on the ankle. Thank you for your help, Sir."
“I shall go out back and shear the goat straight away,” Luellin quipped with a wink, but he actually invited Raelynn to put her foot up on a little stand so that he could measure her size.
Gregor, meanwhile, meandered through the workshop with naught but his thoughts for company. He quickly came to the realization that he was deeply conflicted. Having spent most of the past week convinced that his actions concerning Raelynn were grave mistakes and that he had crossed a line far beyond moral depravity, it was jarring and unsettling to be back in her company and find himself joking about their sexual adventure without a care in the world. Even Raelynn herself knew that their relationship would ultimately be fruitless, considering her active courtship with Hugo. For her it was much easier to excuse the indulgence, but when it came to Gregor himself, he simply could not parse his behavior through any lens of reason. Hell, she made him take leave of reason entirely.
And he loved it. Gregor wanted nothing more than to surrender totally and absolutely to the effect she had on him, to whisk her away to somewhere private and secluded and alternate between having his way with her and strolling arm in arm through the woods or over the fields. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to take her, to listen to her speak and to whisper in her ear. But he knew what his duties were. He knew where his place was. It simply could not be. And yet, now that he had seen her again, the thought of removing her from his life entirely and returning home to Bravil with the mithril ring in his pocket frightened him too much to contemplate it. He was not ready to return home and leave the dreamlike affair with Raelynn behind. He hated himself for it, and yet he could not deny it. Gregor found a chair by the entrance and sank down on it like an old man, his brow furrowed and the fingers of his right hand endlessly fidgeting with his wedding ring.
Luellin straightened back up and motioned for Raelynn to follow him to the rack of riding boots in the back half of the store. “Maroon, maroon,” he whispered to himself, “a dark and bloody balloon… Ah, yes.” He took two of the display boots and held them up for her to inspect. One was plain but shone like a soldier’s shoes on parade, whereas the other had a matte finish and intricate stitching on the leather. Both were maroon and featured a respectable heel. “Your opinion on these two, madam, if you please,” he said and smiled.
If it were her choice, Raelynn would choose the well stitched pair. The broguing was to die for and a true testament to Luellin's craftsmanship-- but her taste differed to Hugo, and she found herself veering to the option he might admire best. She thought on his words of invitation - replaying them in her mind…
"I have purchased a new mare, I wish to see you ride it. We'll go together."It had hardly been a romantic way to ask, he was a man of few words and was intense about those he did choose to say. He was exactly the kind of noble gentleman that her father would approve of. While she knew the polished boots would be his choice, she still found herself drawn to the other. "May I try them on?" Raelynn asked, bringing a half closed fist to her chin in thought.
“Naturally,” Luellin said and guided Raelynn towards the chaise and mirror used for fitting sessions.
From his seat by the door, Gregor watched them move through the shop. Seeing Raelynn so deep in thought, doing her best to meet the standards that were expected of her, was endearing. Then he felt a pang of pity for her. Hugo struck him as the type to make demands of his woman the same way he made demands of everyone else in the world. Gregor hated that kind of entitlement, and he wouldn’t stand for seeing Raelynn bow to it.
Gregor got to his feet and rejoined them by the chaise. “Anything catch your eye?” he asked Raelynn, hands clasped behind his back and a kindly smile on his face.
As the Imperial approached, Raelynn had finished lacing the polished boots and she stood up, removing her cloak with ease and placing it folded on the chaise. She wore a simple tunic in white silk, and without the weight and darkness of the cloak, she appeared a lot brighter and like more of herself - willowy figure and all. "I like these," she mused as she walked slowly with a sway to the mirror, pointing her toes and moving her feet and legs in such a refined and modelesque manner to watch the boots. Her brow creased and she sighed from her nose.
"I also like the brogued pair, they seem like they'll take a better shape… They're also higher - I like a higher boot," she continued, talking to herself first and those around her second. "There's something decidedly alluring about a boot that skims the thigh… But the polish on these…" While looking at herself in the mirror, Raelynn's eyes caught Gregor's in the reflection, and in that second, her posture softened and she turned around to face him properly. She found herself seeking his opinion… "what are your thoughts?" She asked, biting her lip at the corner. There was little indication in his countenance of what he thought, and that made her nervous… His opinion suddenly meant a lot to her.
Gregor kept his thoughts to himself until his opinion was solicited, as he had hoped that it might, and then he pointed towards the stitched pair. “That seems like much more your style,” he commented and then nodded towards the polished boots she was wearing. “That suits a different rider. Sober, serious, uptight… pompous… wretched… sniveling... “
Luellin raised a brow.
“Not you,” Gregor said and tried not to smirk. “But that pair -- that is you.” He looked back up at her eyes. “Right? What do
you want?”
As she eyed her reflection, she lifted her head higher - peering down at the boots. What Gregor had said influenced her, but not as he had intended. Could he really gather such an impression simply from the boots? They were only boots after all. She stood taller in the mirror, and a severe expression fell over her features, an ice cold quality took over her eyes and her fingers worked at styling the tunic, tucking it into her trousers in just the right way. "That sounds something like me…" she said. "I don't know what kind of rider I shall be. These boots will suffice, Luellin."
Had she missed the point of what he was saying, or was she just not listening to him? Either way, with the way she looked at herself in the mirror Gregor was more convinced that it was a choice she had made by herself, for herself, and that was enough. Without further comment, Gregor nodded in acceptance of her judgement.
Luellin clapped his hands together. “Splendid. Take them off and I’ll make the necessary adjustments to perfect the fit. You can wait here, I won’t be long.”
When he had bowed out of the store and moved to his workstation, Gregor sat down on the edge of the chaise and let his eyes wander over the selection of boots on display before they ended back on the brogued pair that Raelynn had discarded in favor of the polished pair. He picked up one of the boots and ran his hands over the leather. “This really would look very lovely on you, you know,” he said and shot Raelynn a smile.
Her eyes followed Luellin as he left and as she made her way to sit and put on her original boots. The quiet of the store only allowed for the tension between them both become louder - it was at the edge of the chaise that she sat down. Leaving miles between them, but a powerful spark between. "Most things do," Raelynn said. She gave a prolonged glance to the brogued shoes in his hands. "It wouldn't hurt to try them on too."
He grinned. “That’s the spirit.” Gregor held out the boots for her to take.
Raelynn smiled back and took it from him and leaned forwards to begin the process of lacing it.
"It's comfortable," she remarked, turning her ankle from side to side and swinging her leg over her knee. She definitely enjoyed the feeling of the leather skimming her thigh, and she ran her finger across the height of the boot slowly. "I like this…" she added, tilting her head. "The heel is higher," her toes pointed forwards, accentuating the shape and curve of her leg even more.
"Do you like it?" She asked Gregor, kicking her leg gently over her knee.
He found that he did. The boots were much more overtly feminine and they brought out Raelynn’s legs in ways that the other boots did not. In fact, Gregor was still busy letting his gaze linger on her legs and how far up on her thigh the rim was when she asked him the question and it took him a second look back up at her and digest what she’d said. “Yes,” he said and nodded. “Yes, I do,” he repeated, more vigorously. “The other boots are quite dignified, don’t get me wrong, but these are simply gorgeous on you.”
She hummed appreciatively at his compliment. "You're right," Raelynn said. "I'm going to look rather fetching on horseback in these," she added before turning in the seat to face him. The Breton reached out her hand and placed it briefly on his thigh. "Thank you for your help."
Gregor placed his hand over hers before she removed it and brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You’re most welcome,” he said. “Anytime.”
Luellin returned with the polished boots in his hands and his eyes immediately fell on the stitched boots that Raelynn had put on. He tutted at Gregor. “You’ve made her change her mind, haven’t you? You’re a devil, you are, keeping an old man hard at work…” he lamented and sighed, but there was no malice in it and the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “I suppose it can’t be helped. Don’t you worry, madam, I’ll find a pair of those in your size, just a moment.” And with that, he disappeared again.
"You know, Gregor, I think I shall take both…" Raelynn said with a content sigh, lifting her leg to admire how it looked on her - glancing between the way it looked in front of her, and then how she looked side on in the mirror. The Breton found herself leaning into the chaise only just, running a free hand over her hip as she did so, almost forgetting that Gregor was there. "Do you think he has matching gloves? I do like the feel of leather," she smirked at herself.
He quirked a brow at that. “I suppose he probably does,” Gregor said, but not before he let her forget herself for a moment, his eyes following the trail her hand left over her hips. “And sure, why not both? Then you can choose depending on your mood.” He glanced around the store and let his eye fall on what he was looking for before looking back at Raelynn. “He’s going to love it,” he managed to get himself to say.
Mind made up, she took off the second boot and began to dress herself back once more in her own - the absence of the leather made her frown, she already wanted to be back in the new boots. The Breton couldn't help it, people were allowed their indulgences, and hers was clothing. "It's been a long time since I've been out like this," she said at last, crossing her legs as she sat and waited for Luellin to reappear- the tension simmering again between her and Gregor. "He likes me to look perfect, I shall feel it in those," she smiled.
A few seconds of silence passed. “You always look perfect,” Gregor said softly.
Luellin reappeared with the stitched boots in tow. “This pair, yes?” he asked Raelynn and shot Gregor a warning glance --
no more opinions from you, wise guy."Actually, I'd like to take both today," Raelynn answered as she rose from the seat, taking her cloak over her arm and walking with pride away from the changing area. "The Lady cannot choose…" she remarked with mischief in her eyes and humour in her voice - leaning on the stereotype for Luellin's amusement. She had just made him run around, afterall. "Will that be alright?"
Luellin laughed. “Of course. You are more than welcome to spend as many septims in my humble shop as your heart desires. I shall go fetch the other pair.”
Gregor stepped up to the counter as well and placed a pair of leather gloves on the wood. “And these for me, please.” He looked sidelong at Raelynn.
"They look rather small for your hands," Raelynn said, looking at Gregor.
“You look rather small for my hands too, but that worked just fine, didn’t it?” he replied without missing a beat.
From the back, Luellin audibly laughed again.
Her mouth opened as she gave a sharp gasp and she felt her nostrils flare "Well," she whispered, aware that Luellin had exceptional hearing. "There goes your lunch of Illiac Bay Oysters."
He pretended not to hear her. "You're right, these are too small," Gregor mused casually after having tried on one of the gloves. He smiled innocently at Raelynn before ducking away from the counter to find a larger pair of gloves.
Her eyes followed him as he went, and she gave a smirk behind his back. "I know," she said quietly as he wandered off.
Luellin returned in the meantime with both of her boots, wrapped and bagged and ready for carrying. "That brings us to a total of two-hundred and fifty septims," he announced sweetly.
Gregor returned with a larger pair that fit more comfortably -- matte black leather that went splendidly well with his coat and his boots. "And twenty for you, my dear fellow," Luellin said to him. Gregor nodded and fished the coins out of his purse.
Raelynn too reached into her purse and brought out the coins - able to count them quickly, and pile them even quicker. "Keep the change," she added with a smile, before turning to Gregor, glancing at the gloves curiously. "Are you done?" She asked him with a smile, her mild embarrassment having faded.
"Yes," he replied and lifted the bags with Raelynn's boots with one hand. "Thanks for everything, Luellin," Gregor said to the man, who nodded gracefully and smiled warmly before returning to the workshop.
On their way back to the door Gregor paused when they were in the darkest and least illuminated part of the store, out of sight of Luellin and anyone else. He turned to Raelynn, eyes invisible in the gloom, and wrapped his free hand around her throat without warning, the leather of his glove creaking with his grip.
"How does that feel?" he asked, his voice barely more than a hum.
With that touch, it was almost like every sore point he'd made his mark upon across her body stung all at once. Her eyelids immediately fluttered and she found no words, only a near silent breathy moan in his direction that said enough.
Deeply satisfied by her response, Gregor let go of her throat and hooked a finger beneath her chin, looking into her crystalline eyes and the immediate arousal he saw within. “Good,” he whispered, before turning back around and heading for the door. “To lunch!”
It took her a second or two more to compose herself, to breathe away the instant throbbing ache for him. It would have to stay in the shop, and once she had passed over the threshold and was back into the street, she was grateful for the chilling caress of the misty breeze. "Yes, lunch," she replied - resisting the urge to rub her neck. "What would you like?"
He had to stop himself from blurting out
‘you’. Gregor thought about it for a while and looked around while he did so. “I could go for something sweet,” he said at length. “Pancakes, cheesecake, that sort of thing. You?”
With a smile, she nodded up at him. "Lavender dumplings." Without a second thought, she wove her arm back through his and set with determination in a particular direction. "I know the perfect place, come."
“Lavender?” Gregor mumbled to himself, wary and curious in equal measure about how something edible could be made from the fragrant lilac flower, but more than willing to let Raelynn surprise him all the same. He kept pace with the rapid footsteps of the diminutive ashen blonde rather easily with his own long strides and he wondered what Hugo would think if he saw them like this. Then again, the odds of Hugo mixing with the peasants like this inside Jehanna were probably zero.
“For someone who doesn’t get out much it sure looks like you’re enjoying yourself now, though,” Gregor said eventually, speaking truthfully and wondering why she remained indoors as much as she did.
It was through a back alley that she led him, far away from the grander and more accessible haunts of Jehanna. Down a winding and dark staircase until they came upon a longer path. “I am,” Raelynn replied contentedly, looking ahead, even if she wanted to steal a glance from him. “I’ve enjoyed the turn of events today, but I shall be making up for the lost time later.”
“In regards to work, you mean?” Gregor asked, still curious about the way she ran her business.
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I actually received a missive from my father today,” she found herself admitting — her steps slowing down. “With some opportunities, contacts to be made, other things,” she sighed. “Are you enjoying yourself?” She asked quickly, looking ahead, changing the subject.
“Why the sigh?” he asked, ignoring her own question. “That sounds like a useful message to receive.”
Her chest tightened, and she sighed again as her shoulders dropped. “It’s just a letter. They’re always… Stiff, generic.” Her voice grew quieter, and she turned her face completely, as if simply observing the scenery along the path. “But it is what it is,” she finally said, turning back to look at Gregor with a smile, and the same emptiness behind her eyes as earlier.
The relationship with her father was clearly a sore topic. That didn’t come as a surprise given the events surrounding her engagement to Sir Gaerford, but it saddened him all the same. Gregor thought fondly about his own father and wondered what Hector would make of Raelynn. That thought was immediately followed by a pang of guilt when he remembered how much his old man liked and approved of Briar. Thinking about Raelynn in that way was folly.
“I suppose it is,” Gregor said softly and squeezed her hand in a show of support. “As for your question, yes, I am very much enjoying myself. What are lavender dumplings?”
Raelynn squeezed back, and once again fought the urge to place her head upon his shoulder. A voice in the back of her mind advising her against it. It took a lot to not fight against and defy the voice, but it just seemed that to become intimately comfortable with Gregor now was dangerous ground. The squeeze of she gave him was all longing, and less about acknowledgement.
“They’re pastries,” she answered with a flicker of a smile. “Made by Khajiit, with berries, lavender, soft cheese, and… Moon sugar,” she turned to him - eyes glistening in the midday gloom with something impish. “Not enough to affect you, but they certainly
tingle.”
That lit up Gregor’s eyes. “Moon sugar? Truly?” he asked and whistled. “Now that’s something I’ve never tried before. Not enough to affect me, you say? Hm. Well, I suppose that’s for the best, lest we end up like drooling cats in a corner somewhere,” Gregor mused, amused.
“Oh, unless we stuff ourselves silly we’ll make it home quite fine,” she chuckled back at him, nudging him playfully before taking a corner, to find what was quite frankly, a hole in the wall of an establishment. It was the absolute opposite of The Long Well. The paint was peeling off the walls, and no two chairs were the same. Every table wobbled and every cushion was a different colour to the last.
Regardless of all of those things, the place was full and they were lucky enough to find a seat to begin with. Behind the bar were two Khajiit women in exotic looking dress taking orders and feeding them back to the kitchens. It was a busy establishment that looked as temporary as anything, as if tomorrow they could simply pack it up and move on.
“Take your seat — I’ll order,” Raelynn offered, her eyes sparkling. “What do you wish to drink? I recommend the tea…”
“I’ll have whatever you recommend,” Gregor said as he sat down and looked around. There was a lot to take in in the small, busy shop. From the mismatched furniture to the eclectic crowd of customers -- it was an exotic delight. “Wouldn’t know where to begin choosing anything in here anyway. How did you find this place?”
“Fjolte, actually,” Raelynn smiled. “When he first arrived here, and when he first started working for me, he brought me here.” There was a fondness in her voice that blew through any part of the melancholy that sat around from moments ago. “He told me they made the best cheese fondue, so if you’d like to try that too on his recommendation, it’s on me.”
He rubbed his hands together, getting well and truly excited about the lunch now. “Yes, please. I should’ve known, by the way. This has Fjolte written all over it. Although,” he said and hesitated briefly, “we drank shein based on his recommendation and that was… well, it was a disaster,” the silversmith admitted and he smiled sheepishly. “Either way, I’m sure the fondue will be good.”
“Ah,” she said, motioning knowingly with a point of her finger. “Was that the evening with the farm work by any chance?” Raelynn said, leaving her cloak over the back of her chair. “I want to hear all about it when I get back…” She wagged a finger in his face playfully before heading off through the crowd - weaving through the people carefully. Even in her heels she was still shorter than most around, but she carried herself as if she was the tallest in the room.
She returned only minutes later to resume her seat, sitting with perfect posture directly opposite Gregor. Even in midday, there was a darkened ambience in the place that invoked the illusion that it could easily have been midnight outside. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him, cloaked partially in moody shadows and maybe she looked for just a moment too long before she caught herself, and placed her hands in front of her and looked at those instead. “So… Care to tell me more about the shein? Or is this a no girls allowed to know kind of tale?”
Gregor squirmed in his seat. “Kind of?” he tried, unsure of how Raelynn would react. He was eager not to relay Fjolte’s adventure with the barmaid to Raelynn, since he was sure that would be seen as a betrayal of trust in the Nord’s eyes. “Well, not really,” he settled on, having decided what to say. “We were one-upping each other with our favorite drinks, as you do. We went from wine to brandy to whiskey and then he suggested shein. I didn’t know what it was, but not one to back down from a challenge I agreed. The bar… tender,” Gregor said tactfully, “tried to warn me but I didn’t listen. Not long after that we were stumbling around on the street, rolling around in the grass, that sort of thing. I may or may not have experienced an… oral expulsion.” Gregor laughed, groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never again.”
Raelynn laughed along with him, trying to imagine the two of them together making a state of themselves. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so drunk in my life,” she commented. Her eyes narrowed in his direction as she sat deep in thought, exhaling slowly. “He thinks very highly of you, you know. I think he quite enjoys having another man around.”
Gregor nodded slowly. “I think the world of him too,” he said. “He’s one of the most honest and benevolent men that I’ve ever known.” The snort that followed had an undeniably cynical quality. “Certainly of better and stronger moral fiber than myself. I feel like I don’t deserve his friendship sometimes.”
“He’s the most loyal person I’ve had in my employ,” Raelynn said. “I don’t deserve him either,” she said honestly, the sight of a Khajiit carrying tea took her attention. The young maiden placed it down with a polite purr and nod at both Gregor and Raelynn.
“Black tea from Torval, this one is proud to serve it…” she said with a smile, pouring out two cups from the teapot delicately. “Your food will be along soon, beautiful guests of our house…” she continued with a bow of her head before slinking away again.
“I’m glad that he met you, Gregor,” Raelynn said quietly after the Khajiit had left, picking up her tea straight after and looking down into the contents instead of into his eyes.
Raelynn’s honesty about herself was surprising and Gregor regarded her with renewed curiosity. There was nothing about her behavior or her bearing that had suggested to him, until then, that she did not think particularly highly of herself. Or perhaps she did think highly of herself, of her intelligence, cunning and skill, and just not highly of her own character. It explained the vulnerability she had shown him in brief flashes.
“I am too,” Gregor said and leaned forward in his seat to place a comforting hand on her knee and pick up his own tea. It smelled deliciously fragrant and strong.
He leaned back into his chair and suddenly blurted out: “Do you think that we are good people?”
Her cup was placed back down onto the table and she straightened up at the question. Her tongue ran over her teeth, her gaze settled on Gregor’s eyes intensely. “Sometimes,” was her immediate answer, and she left the words to hang in the air, to move through the hot plumes of steam that rose between them from the tea pot and their respective cups.
“I do dishonest things to survive. So do you,” she commented frankly. “You have seen but a slight amount of the things I have done. Only what I show you, and there are a lot of skeletons in my closet… As I suspect there are in yours.” If Gregor was to ask a loaded question, a loaded answer he would receive.
Gregor swirled his tea and drank slowly, savoring the taste, watching Raelynn closely through the steam and the gloom of the establishment. She was unapologetic in her frankness about the nature of her business now -- that wasn’t something she saw as a moral weakness, Gregor surmised from the firm tone of her voice. That made sense to him, at least, since it was probably an attitude she had inherited from her father. So was it the way that she treated people that she was ashamed of?
“Fjolte loves you,” he said, ignoring what she suggested about his own closet. He sipped the tea again. It was really quite marvelous. “You know that, right?”
Somewhere behind them, people were laughing and enjoying their own moment, and that joy attempted to float over to their table, but it died in the air. Raelynn rubbed a finger behind her ear. “Yes,” she answered. She did not tear her eyes from his, his deep and dark orbs that were burning as fiercely as her own. “So it seems, did you.”
“I did. It was unmistakable, from the way he spoke of you.” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “That’s why I don’t feel like I deserve him. I really tried, you know. That night after Razul’s party…” Gregor’s mouth curled into a sardonic smirk. “I left because I wanted to be a loyal friend. And a faithful husband, for that matter.” Gregor shifted in his seat and lowered the cup of tea to his lap. His expression had turned serious again -- not accusatory or upset, just the face of a man who wanted Raelynn to listen closely to what he was about to say.
“You are the first and only skeleton in my closet, Raelynn,” Gregor said. “Before I came to Jehanna, I had never been unfaithful or disloyal to anyone, or inflicted harm on anyone who didn’t deserve it.” He waved dismissively. “Dead bandits don’t count,” Gregor added. He inclined his head towards her, not just indicating her but also as a show of respect from a defeated warrior to the victor. “You’re… different. Special.”
He ran a hand through his beard and a slow smile spread across his face. “Irresistible,” he mouthed.
If he had been trying to compliment her, to fan at the embers of whatever it was between them, the ice that came over her expression denied it. Her hands withdrew from the centre of the table, and took hold of her cup. “And what a closet it is,” she spoke, low but severe. Her own head cocked. “I may be the only skeleton in there but you made room for me…” Her jaw clenched and she broke eye contact, staring down at her tea.
“Yes,” he said quickly and held up a hand. “Yes, I did. I make no apologies for my own behavior and my own faults. You’re not some… temptress, who pulled me from the path of godliness,” Gregor explained. “There are… things going on in my life. Problems at home. It’s no excuse, I know, but it’s the reason.” He inhaled sharply and clenched the cup of tea tightly. “I was unhappy. That opened the door to seeing you in ways that I…” He trailed off and sighed, unable to find the right words to finish the sentence. “You
are irresistible to me. Not as a diversion, or an indulgence, but as a woman. Everything about you.” It almost sounded like he was pleading for her to understand. “I’m simply too weak to walk away. But you know what? This,” he said and gestured to the both of them, “doesn’t feel like a mistake to me. Does it feel like a mistake to you?”
“I understand,” Raelynn nodded slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear, letting go of the tea. “Your problems at home,” she repeated, bringing her hand to her chin, tilting her head up. “I’m just the fantasy, where it’s safe to have one. You come here on your quest, with your empty closet and you meet me and you see a challenge,” she shrugged, her nose scrunched. “Have the cold woman, have the friend, be the hero — and then what? You finish your quest and you return home with memories of me under your skin and on your body until you pay it back to your wife in penance, or in flowers…” She sighed, bringing the cup to her lips but it only tasted bitter. She didn’t
feel like understanding him.
“I don’t feel like it was a mistake, but maybe more of it would be.” Raelynn uttered quietly, closing her eyes.
“You’re a cynic,” Gregor said. “That’s fine. I understand. Between your father and what happened with you and Sir Gaerford, you are inclined to see the worst in men. I don’t blame you for that, and I can’t make you believe me. I can only reiterate what I said before. You are not a challenge or a fantasy to me. Have you forgotten that I already have what I came here for? The ring you gave me has enough mithril in it to make a very fine piece with,” he reminded her. His tone was stern but not unkind. “I could return at any time and call the quest a resounding success.”
He spread his arms and his gaze softened while he looked at her. “Why do you think I’m still here?”
“I don’t know,” Raelynn sighed, and looked away. “You’re astute. I am a cynic.” Quickly, her head snapped back to face him, a storm brewed behind her eyes. “But keep telling me about myself, and why I view the world as I do,” she said, brushing her fingers over the wood grain on the surface of the table. “I’m curious,” her eyebrows raised as she waited for his answer.
Aware that he may have overstepped his bounds, Gregor tread carefully when he answered her request. “I believe,” he began, “that you have been frequently disappointed by the men in your life. Even here, in Jehanna, you told me that your dating efforts were fruitless. You feel alone. You’re a very strong woman -- I am certainly no match for you when it comes to your resourcefulness, your ambition and your authority -- but there is another side to you.” He smiled when he recalled the memories. “When you asked me to hold you on Razul’s ship, I saw it for the first time. We connected then and there. The way you talked about those long summer afternoons with your mother on the balcony… I
felt that. You’ve been starved of that kind of affection for too long.” His smile faltered and he looked away. “And so have I. We’re not so different, in that regard. It’s just that our stories have played out differently. Your betrothal ended. My marriage is currently…” Gregor closed his mouth, opened it, and closed it again, unable to say the words until he mustered the courage. “Falling apart,” he finished.
“We can’t have children,” Gregor said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I think it broke her heart. She’s always in pain and I don’t know how to reach her, or how to make it better.” He put the teacup on the table with trembling fingers. “But you… I understand you. I could reach you. And you let me, and it felt
so right…” He took a deep breath and leaned back into his chair, weary and suddenly much older in the half-light of the shop. He clasped his hands across his lap and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”
She had listened to his words, and at one point had looked away — she was unable to watch his mouth form the words that she was hearing. The laughter from beyond their table was silent and only she and Gregor were there now. “I am not starved,” she lied, although it was hidden well behind the veneer she was only just keeping together. “I am not starved because I do not crave anything. Dating is
fruitless because don’t crave affection. I am satisfied with my life,” she stopped, her voice shaking and so she took a long sip of the tea.
“I’m sorry for your wife’s troubles, I am sorry she is hurting.” Raelynn swallowed down something, rising bitterness? Anger? Upset? And once more she turned her eyes to Gregor, soft this time— and her voice a whisper. “Please don’t make me the comparison to her, please don’t.” Raelynn shook her head subtly, she wasn’t sure why her reaction to this topic was to be defensive and difficult. Being confronted with everything only made her reach for the bricks she’d knocked down and rebuild her wall — to see it all as a chip in her foundation.
“Do you want to save your marriage?” She asked, her jaw clenched again as she attempted to regain her composure.
Gregor bit his lip, defeated. He could tell she was retreating from him. Of course she was hurt by the confrontation with the very things that would most likely stop them from developing their relationship any further. If Gregor did the right thing, it would be like everything between them had never happened --
should never have happened. She was protecting herself. “As you wish,” he said and swallowed hard. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m sorry.”
As for her question, he faltered when answering. “I… yes. Or at least, I wanted to. Shouldn’t I?” Gregor asked, visibly insecure and uncertain. “A good man would try.”
Then he suddenly sat up straight and frowned. “I did try. For years, I tried. But it’s like… she wants me to fix things, to make her feel better, but she also pushes me away. I don’t know if this is something I can fix.” Gregor paused and breathed. It was the first time he had ever admitted it out loud. “I don’t know if I can save my marriage,” he said, asserting the thought out loud, looking at a point over Raelynn’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s just… beyond my reach.”
Then fear came over him. He could feel the foundations of his life slip beneath his feet. Gregor grabbed the armrests of his chair with both hands. “But… then… I don’t know,” he whispered and sank back into the chair. “I don’t know.”
It broke her heart to see him stumble so. Any thoughts and preconceptions about Mrs Mercurius were gone, and in the moment Raelynn couldn't remember how she'd imagined the woman to be up until now, up until Gregor had spoken about her. Now she could just see their shattered life. Broken glass that had spilled even under her door - she knew that if she reached out to Gregor, it would hurt her too. She'd made that mistake, they'd made it together.
"I think that it's only fair to all involved that you… Figure that out," the Breton said after a long pause. Fighting back her instinct to embrace him, to invite him home with her to comfort him. She thought of Hugo too, he was a good man, and now he was at risk of being wounded. Together they'd created an environment that was dangerous to step on. "I'm sorry Gregor."
It took a few seconds for the implication of her words to sink in. Gregor looked at her and could feel, like waves rushing into shore, an urge, a deep longing, to speak, to cry out -- to ask her if they could be together if he divorced his wife. But he closed the gate shut on that madness before it could see the light of day. That was not anywhere near the type of burden he had any right to place on her. She was not responsible for giving him a safety net to help him make such a decision. Gregor reminded himself of what he had thought in Luellin’s shop -- he was not entitled to her support. The way she had phrased her statement had left the door open just enough to shine a little light into the darkness of his room, and he would have to make do with that -- but the decision should be made for himself and for Briar, first and foremost.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “It is. And… I’m sorry, too, for dragging you into this… making my problems your problems. You don’t deserve that.” Gregor cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. Knowing that he had a decision to make and that life would continue afterwards, either way, had steeled him a little. “In the meantime, I hope that we can remain…” How on Nirn was he going to phrase this? “Associates,” he tried, but it tasted wrong. “Friends,” Gregor tried again. That seemed better. “Close friends?”
She watched as Gregor chose his words, it was as if Raelynn could see his thoughts moving around behind his eyes. He at least seemed to have composed himself, but inside she was less so. Her chest ached, and her stomach turned in knots with every word he said. She couldn't stay. Raelynn wanted to run out and back home… To tear away down the pathways and over the stone until she reached The Long Well and could absolutely drown her sorrows in the bath - with Shona at her aid.
Raelynn needed Shona. She needed a closed door to sob behind and to be out of the small tavern that was beginning to suffocate her. "I'm sorry," she said, breaking her silence at last. "I really, I have to get back to my work…" Without giving him time to react, she stood from her seat and placed her hands neatly in front of her. "Please, I insist you stay… Eat… Think…" she added, waving a hand over the tea - her own cup had the smudge of her lipstick against the rim. Red, as always.
As she turned to make her way out she paused again, "Oh and Gregor," Raelynn began. "I was not dragged anywhere. I'm not a good person, I walked that path willingly…"
His fear swung the other way. Fear of losing his life became fear of losing Raelynn, but he was frozen to the spot by the weight of his woes. Gregor looked up at her with a heavy heart. “That may be, but I’m glad you did,” he said. “You make my life brighter.”
She regarded him with a sad expression, unsure of how their morning had brought them here. Everything had seemed so perfect until it wasn't. Raelynn picked up her bags and gave him one last look. "Take care of yourself, I'll be… I'll be seeing you." The last of her words were touched with a cracking fragility, that suggested that when she turned her back as was walking out, she may have cried. He would never know.
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