Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Marethyu, Priapus, Old man of the mountain, Beans
The Celestial Farmer
Chapter 11: Drunk
– Jorgen –
100cp granted, 200cp total.
Huffing, I ignore the message in my mind and get back to work. I'm heading to Whiterun this week, so I want to get this finished before then. Guiding the golems, I work on setting up the large-scale warming runestones at the marked spots throughout Winterhold. Winter is rapidly approaching, the snow is heavier and the nights longer each day, and Winterhold, as the name suggests, always gets hit the hardest in Skyrim. If it isn't blizzards, it's the chilling winds blowing in from the Sea of Ghosts, turning our blood to ice. Even for Nords, it stops any and all movement as we hibernate in our homes.
And when nobody is doing anything, productivity and business freeze as well. I've got too many products that could spoil over the winter to just sit on them, and that means I want Winterhold to handle the winter better than usual. Of course, Korir paid for the materials, but as a Thane, I've got a lot more sway to just do whatever I want if it's in the pursuit of improving Winterhold.
With this, the temperature should remain at the chilly weather we're used to during Fall. I could try to make the place feel like a Summerset summer day, but frankly, we'd hate it. Nords like the cold, when it isn't so chilly that your spit freezes in your mouth. Instead, I'm aiming for a Whiterun Fall for the desired temperature. Cold enough not to disrupt the environment, but comfortable enough that Winterhold won't shut down for three full months.
The men and women of Winterhold greet me with waves and shouts as they see me going about my day. It's nice to see that they don't look so beaten down lately. With the flowing goods from the farm, they're well fed, and their ruin of a city is slowly being fixed up. I've been clearing out the old ruined buildings that have been left abandoned for years. Most of them are too ruined to even be worth using for materials, but the cleared space can be put to use for actual, useful things as the city slowly recovers its economic standing. More importantly, it means they don't have to walk past the physical proof of their downfall every single day.
Honestly, I might have to find a way to make more work around here because apparently, the entire town has nothing better to do than follow me around and watch me fiddle with some stones. I notice several mages near the crowd, though they're keeping their distance from the rest of the residents. They always do.
Ranni did mention that there's a considerable interest in the farm from the College. I hold no grudge against them, but I can't say I overly care for them either. Still, if they want to watch me work, then they're welcome to, I suppose. Ranni herself comes home fairly frequently, as apparently she finds many of her new colleagues irritating, as they constantly bother her when she's trying to work, so she prefers her tower for private study. At least she seems to be enjoying her time with the College, if nothing else. Or maybe she just enjoys their book collection.
Heading into the longhouse, I pause as I look around, scratching my beard. Korir is usually on his throne at this time of day, and his guards aren't here either.
"Korir has been called away," Thaena says, getting my attention. "Jarl Ulfric has called for a meeting of Jarls in Windhelm, and while Winterhold hasn't sworn fealty to his cause…"
"We can't just ignore him, either. Especially now that he's sending guards our way," I finish, snorting. "I was just coming by to tell him that I've finished setting up the warming runes for the city. Unless we get hit with an endless blizzard, Winterhold should enjoy a more tolerable winter this season. If the temperature needs fixing, just send word to the farm, and I'll come by and tinker with it a little."
"Going so soon? You're always in such a rush," Thaena laughs. It's funny, not so long ago she looked at me with distrust and distaste. Now, she's wearing a Nerscylla silk dress as she sits on a bench lined with Popo fur, sipping a drink I made at my brewery.
It was inevitable that, in time, I would turn my attention to making alcohol. Every Nord farmer does it eventually, even if most can't compare with Honningbrew or even Black-Briar Mead. I've made my own spiced mead, and once my fruits are ready to harvest, I'll move on to wine. I have too much raw product, and converting it into trade goods is the best way to ensure that nothing goes to waste.
Once I've found the right production method, all I need to do is make some golems to handle that line of production specifically, and I don't have to waste my time doing it myself. Besides, if I know one thing about my kin, it's that they'll pay for good booze over less necessary things like clothes or food.
"There's always more to do, especially when winter is barreling toward us with no signs of slowing down," I admit.
"Aye. I won't miss the winter cold if your stones work like you claim they will. Magic or not," Thaena replies with a small scowl crossing her face. "Still, I won't be such a poor host to one of our Thanes as to send him off into the cold with a pat on the back for his work. I know it's your food and drink I'm serving, but at least let me keep that much pride."
"Fair enough. I can't deny I've worked up a hunger lugging around those stones," I agree after a moment of consideration. We have dinner late at the farm since most of us are busy throughout the day and simply snack during our work. Ciri, Aela and the Companions have gone to find something to test their new weapons on, and Sudi spends her day with the animals. Usually, with Danica helping.
I've noticed that Danica is actually more of a natural with green magic that affects animals than I am, while I'm far better with plants. It's good to have her around to help, since my green magic is one of the few things I can't create a golem to take some of the load off my shoulders. Maybe it's her already impressive skill with restoration magic that is helping her? It isn't unheard of for Priestesses, especially Priestesses of Kynareth, to help heal sick animals as part of their duties. Of course, with the war on, there are too many injured men and women to waste magic on livestock.
Taking the offered seat in their dining room, I watch Thaena busy herself around the place as she brings me a goblet of spiced mead and a plate of Popo meat. It's servant work, but I suppose Thaena is more used to handling matters herself, thanks to the poverty of Winterhold.
"Where's Assur?" I ask, taking a sip as she chuckles.
"On his way to Windhelm with his father. He's old enough to know to keep his mouth shut and not offend the other Jarls, and he's got to learn these things eventually," Thaena explains. "I wouldn't have allowed him to go with a war on before you repaired the roads and fort, but with the Stormcloak guards and Korir's men, they'll be safe enough."
Our small talk continues, but I can tell something is on her mind as she watches me drink. She holds it in, for the most part, but it is only for so long that she can resist.
"Did you truly kill a dragon?" Thaena blurts out, having seemingly abandoned her pursuit of the 'right' way to ask this.
"Barioth did, not me. I just butchered the damn thing," I reply truthfully. She shudders, and I know her mind is on Helgen. It had far better defences than Winterhold, and it is apparently a ruin now. The idea that a dragon was just lurking in the mountains above Winterhold is not an encouraging thought.
"Do you think it was the one that Jarl Ulfric saw burn down Helgen?" Thaena asks, but I just shake my head.
"I sent a letter to him, and his description doesn't fit the one that I've got butchered in my storehouse. This one had brown, smoother scales, while the one he saw had black, spiked ones. It was smaller too," I explain.
"Gods above. As if this war was not bad enough, now we have to worry about dragons?" Thaena asks, wringing her hands together in stress. "Winterhold couldn't survive a dragon attack, could it?"
"As it is now? Almost certainly not. If it was smart and stayed in the air, I doubt the guards' arrows would even reach it," I admit. "I've been thinking about it, believe me. Once I get back from Whiterun, I'm going to have a lot to discuss with Korir. We could use some defensive towers. Walls won't help us against something that can fly, but it wouldn't hurt either."
"Aye. We've never needed them before because we have nothing worth raiding Winterhold for, but even if the dragons don't come here, wealth attracts envy," Thaena agrees as she runs her hand along her silken dress. I made a pair for Korir and Thaena as a gift, because if the Jarl is dressed shabbily, it makes Winterhold look bad by extension. I'll drag this city into its glory days by the teeth if I have to.
I can fight, but as I have repeatedly said, I wholeheartedly refuse the call to adventure. My Leviathan Axe is for cutting wood. My Iron Fist honed body is for building and transporting materials. Dragons? That's a job for Companions, heroes and a very hungry cat. War? Another man's game, I've no desire to spill the blood of my fellow Nords over who gets to call themselves King.
"I'll make sure he listens," Thaena finally says, letting out a deep breath. "Thank you, Jorgen. I'm not too proud to admit that I was wrong about your… creations. For the first time in our lifetime, Winterhold is actually improving. It isn't back to the peak it once enjoyed, but we're getting there. Step by step."
"This is my home too. Chillbloom has always been connected to Winterhold, and my ancestors lived here before the collapse. We Nords are a stubborn lot, and I want to bring my homeland back to its glory days," I admit with a laugh. The fact is, I know that all this is pointless if all I really want is to maximise profits and business. I could build a train track to Whiterun and use it as a staging point for the entirety of Skyrim and even beyond, leaving Winterhold to its decay.
"Your parents would be proud. Confused, but proud," Thaena says with a small, almost teasing smile. "Shame you don't have a proper Nord woman, rather than that Redguard girl playing house."
"Sudi is a good girl, and she's done a lot to help," I say, my tone warning as she stiffens.
"Of course, as she should since you and Ciri saved her, but Chillbloom is a proper Nord farm and it should have a proper Nord woman, like your mother," Thaena says quickly, not quite apologising or backing down, but then my people have always been less than accepting of the other races. It's doubly true this far north, because quite a few people equate elves with magic and blame the elves for the Collapse. Despite the College being founded by Nords, I suppose it was easier to blame the elven mages within it for the Collapse. In turn, it led to the Nords, stubborn and proud, looking suspiciously on anyone who wasn't Nord.
I just let out a grunt, not quite agreeing or disagreeing. Marriage isn't something I've given much thought to, with all that's been going on, especially with Sudi, Ciri and Aela. I can get away with my antics as a technically single man, but Mara would frown upon me continuing to bed others while I was married.
"I didn't mean to insult your friend," Thaena continues, looking somewhat nervous.
"Then don't do it again," I reply simply, shaking my head. "How have you been enjoying the hot water?" I ask, changing the subject and giving her a reprieve. She lets out a sigh of relief at that, relaxing.
"I have. It's a gift from the Gods to be able to soak in hot water without needing to waste so much time gathering and heating it," Thaena admits with a chuckle. "It's not quite as good as your hot spring, of course, but a daily soak does wonders for my skin. Korir has even stopped complaining about his bones aching, most of the time."
"Bah, he's not old enough to be using that excuse yet," I laugh. "But I suppose politics ages you like no other profession. Better him than me."
"Oh, he can't stand it either, but he won't let anyone else do it. Doesn't trust anyone else to do what's needed for Winterhold," Thaena replies. "Not that it stops him from complaining about the other Jarls. Before, it was because they weren't even willing to acknowledge Winterhold, but how the tide has turned. Chillbloom and your train have put us back on the map, and I'm not sure all the Jarls are happy about it."
"As I said, better him than me. I suspect I'd end up punching the other Jarls if I had to do his job," I snort.
"Oh, that happens once or twice per meeting. Nord politics might still be politics, but we have our own way of doing things, and if a council passes without a brawl breaking out, was anything really achieved?" Thaena admits, pouring me a second goblet of mead and taking the seat next to me. "You know the council is almost certainly about you, don't you? Some are even saying you're the Last Dragonborn. A dragon died at your farm, then all of Skyrim heard the Greybeards call."
"Aye, I know. I heard them, but that mountain air must have stolen their senses if they think I'm gonna drop everything and wander off to see some monks just because some overgrown lizard died," I grumble. "Either Ulfric wants to use the legend of the Dragonborn to stir up support, or he wants to use my goods and creations for his war efforts. I've sworn no oaths to him or Elisif, nor do I intend to get dragged into their squabble."
"I doubt either side is willing to leave it at that. Korir is too proud to say it, but he and Winterhold will likely follow your lead on this," Thaena explains softly, her voice whisper-quiet.
"Then Winterhold needs to get strong enough that we can't be bullied by either side, doesn't it?" I muse, rubbing my chin. "I was going to bring this up to Korir once things have settled, but perhaps it's time to upgrade from a Longhouse to a proper keep? I'm sure you saw Ulfric's looks, comparing the Palace of the Kings to this place."
"Do we even have space for a keep?" Thaena asks, watching as I go into my satchel and pull out a map of Winterhold, updated to show the cleared space and covered in markings.
"Aye, we do, but my thought was to build it into the side of the mountain, right here, so it overlooks the city," I explain. "I was also planning to talk to him about constructing a proper temple here. It just ain't right that the only true stone building is the bloody College that acts like it's not even part of Winterhold most of the time. We could build a nice, sturdy stone wall here and here to stop attacks from the South, and I plan to fortify the path through the mountains since I don't want any armies marching on my bloody crops."
"You've put a lot of thought into this," Thaena admits, giving me a strange smile. "But would it be a Temple to the Nine or the Eight?"
"Ain't that the question. I praise Mighty Talos in my prayers, like all proper Nord men, and my gut says to make it a Temple to the Nine, but…" I trail off, scowling. "The Thalmor. If we openly worship Talos, the Thalmor will have all the reason they need to come and interfere here as much as they damn well please, and our only recourse would be to join the Stormcloaks. Fucking elves."
And fucking Ulfric, in truth. The Empire may have outlawed the worship of Talos during the treaty to end the war, but it wasn't enforced at all until Ulfric made such a scene in Markarth. His vocal demands gave the Thalmor all the excuse they needed to move into Skyrim in force, and now their justicars wander our roads abducting Nord men and women as they please. Damn the Thalmor. Damn the Empire for allowing this insult. Damn the Stormcloaks for making such a fuss that the Empire had to let this happen to avoid another war.
I might not want to fight, but if any more Thalmor come sniffing around my home demanding my obedience to their bullshit, I'll toss them into the Sea of Ghosts myself. Well, assuming I get to them before Barioth does.
"Can you start your golems making the wall before you head south? I know Korir might not be back by then, but he'll agree to whatever price you want, I swear it," Thaena asks, her hand resting on my thigh. "Winterhold is so close to returning to glory, but so fragile at the same time. A single attack could see us even worse off than we started. I'd sleep a lot sounder knowing we had some proper defences than a few inexperienced guards and Ulfric's men."
"Between you and me, as the Jarl's wife and Thane, we certainly have the authority to start such a project even without his direct permission," I muse. "And I have the materials, even if I'd have to have the train pick up the stone from my largest warehouse back at the farm. A simple, sturdy wall with a watch tower won't be hard to construct. It'll help to have a watch tower to place any anti-dragon weaponry later as well."
I've built as much in Blackreach as part of my reclamation project. The Falmer are being pushed farther and farther out of Blackreach as I claim more of the underground region and secure it. I could make a much bigger version of the dwemer ballistas that I've been using to protect my underground assets, and work it to only fire on dragons? How effective that would be is up for debate, but it's certainly better than nothing but a bow and a prayer.
"All of Winterhold is in your debt, Jorgen," Thaena says. "I'll send a runner to Korir, letting him know what you're doing. If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word."
"I'm going to go and mark out the spot for the wall. I can start the golems moving the materials today, and have the first bricks laid by tomorrow morning," I say, rising with a thoughtful frown. Security is important enough that I really shouldn't delay it, which also means I should fortify the routes to my farm from both the south and west as well.
"Come back and let me know exactly where you're placing them before you return to the farm, so I can give Korir the correct details," Thaena requests, getting a nod as I grab my coat and head back out. The air is pleasantly chilly as I begin to make the walk, but only until I hit the point where the runestones don't reach and the true winter chill hits me like a troll. The warmed stones of the road save my feet, but it's easy to forget just how cold things really can get when you've gotten used to the runestones.
[Primarch Mentality] makes it far too easy to plan out the ideal location for a defensive wall, a good distance from the city itself so it has room to grow but close enough to serve its purpose. The mountains provide a good natural defence to the west and the cliffs and seas to the east do the same. This won't stop people from sneaking in, as there are too many ways up the cliffsides to the north and east, but it will make it harder for any unified force to march on Winterhold. Despite the ease of the job, I'll admit that I get carried away with my planning and markings, the sun starting to set, reminding me that I've been at this too long, as I finish up the copy of the map with the future wall added in.
By the time I get back, what little light and heat the sun deigned to give us is long gone, but Winterhold remains lit up by runestone lamps, and the night air is merely chilly rather than fatal. As stubborn as we Nords can be, I'm amused to see that the people of Winterhold are either adapting quickly or simply still entertained by the novelty of my runestones as the streets remain…
Well, not bustling because there aren't enough people in Winterhold for that. Instead, they're merely somewhat active. Given the season and the time of day, that is still a massive change from normal as I head back to the Jarl's Longhouse.
With Korir gone, it's no surprise that the place is all but empty. Their steward, that dark elf whose name escapes me, is nowhere to be seen, but I know Thaena neither trusts nor likes him, so it's expected that he decided to make himself scarce while Korir is away.
Calling out, I receive a response and head to the private quarters where it came from before I pause, mentally sighing at the troublesome sight. I suspected something like this would happen, in truth, as Thaena steps into the room, her hair damp and nothing but a fur wrapped around her body.
"My apologies, Jorgen. I didn't expect you back so soon," Thaena 'admits', wringing her hair. The furs around her body do little to cover her, leaving her long legs and the top of her breasts entirely on display.
Why does the world seek to make my life more complicated?
"It wasn't a difficult task. I've marked out the wall's location, and my golems have begun to move the materials needed for the foundation. Fortunately, this is an easier task than repairing a fort. Building from scratch usually is," I grunt, laying down the map on the table as I consider how to deal with this.
The worst part? I know what has caused this, at least slightly. I'm going to spank Ciri and Aela when I get back. They got drunk at the Frozen Hearth, and according to Ria, loudly discussed my manhood and my talent with it for all to hear. I don't know how Korir and Thaena's relationship is, because while I talk to Korir fairly often, for the most part, Thaena has just lingered around, usually looking at me like I'm going to start spouting tentacles or burst into flames at any given moment, before she softened to magic, but it's either the Dragonborn thing or Ciri's boasting that got me into this mess.
I swear that girl is trouble. I hope she's proud of herself.
– Ciri –
Beaming with pride, she turned to face the others.
"Ha, five! I win!" Ciri cheered, getting a frustrated growl from not only Aela but Ria and Njada at the same time as the bandit fell. These poor fools had been hiding out in the wreckage of a ship that was a little too close to the farm for her to permit their existence.
"We've been over this! Ingrid's kills don't count as yours. You can't claim credit when Ingrid flew off and did all the work herself," Ria argued, Ingrid humming as she flicked the blood away and then slipped back into her sheath.
"In which case, Ingrid got four and she beat Aela's two," Ciri countered, but Aela just shrugged.
"I'll take it, but you don't get to claim victory after just wandering around watching your flying sword do all the work," Aela snorted.
"I did fight! Look, I beat that guy to death with my bare hands! That's got to count for two," Ciri tried.
"He's a wood elf, he only counts for half," Njada cut in, resting her Barioth sword on her shoulder. "Plus, you're in that fancy Barioth armour, so your 'bare hands' are an armoured, clawed gauntlet so that doesn't count either."
"I'm telling Athis you said that," Ciri countered.
"Tell him. He's a dark elf, he's more racist to wood elves than the average Nord," Njada replied with a shrug. "He'd be more offended that you thought he'd be offended."
"Well, I guess Ingrid doesn't have to pay for her drinks next time we go out. I… uh, don't think it's going to make much of a difference," Ria pointed out. "...I didn't even get one. I can't try out my new mace if you two kill everything before I can even get within arm's reach."
"Be faster," Aela replied simply, unapologetic. Ciri just shrugged, well aware that she was faster than most. Ingrid was faster still. As they continued to bicker, she grinned to herself. The Companions truly reminded her of Kaer Morhen and the School of the Wolf Witchers. One day, she was going to bring them into this world where they'd actually be respected for their work.
As they squabbled, they all froze at the sound of movement, cursing themselves for being so inattentive as they spun and… watched the last bandit flee from his hiding place, running into the frozen wastes to try and get away from them. Ria snorted, but Ciri was already moving as she blinked forward and grabbed the bandit, accidentally pulling him out of the way of Aela's arrow as she kneed him in the stomach and drew Ingrid, slicing off his head as he bent over in pain.
"This one counts!" Ciri added, beaming as Aela let out a disgusted curse and something under her breath that was almost certainly a local slur. Gods, she was starting to love Skyrim. No need to deal with politics or scheming sorceresses, just a world where she could relax and adventure and a farm where she could get every need she had scratched whenever she wanted.
Well, no scheming sorceress beyond Ranni, but since Ranni was scheming a way to lure the Wild Hunt into a trap and slaughter them all, that was the kind of scheming Ciri could get behind.
She wasn't entirely sure what the 'Eye' was, only that Ranni had found it in a burial chamber and hidden it away in her tower.
– Jorgen –
I'll admit, Thaena is a fairly attractive woman. She's not the wild beauty of Aela or entrancing Ciri, but she is certainly not unattractive either. Reaching for the map, her furs slip and expose her left breast entirely, decently large with a perky pink nipple that's already hard, and not from the air.
The issue is simple. She's the wife of Jarl Korir. Even if I didn't respect the Jarl, this would still be a bad idea as he can make my attempts to advance Winterhold far more complicated by digging his heels in out of sheer spite or wounded pride.
I'm not the kind of man to sleep with another man's wife-
Feat Achieved: Fuck Beitild (Leigelf's wife), 100cp granted. 300cp total.
Okay, that happened one time, and I was barely a man at the time. I didn't even have a beard. Besides, I didn't even know she was married to Leigelf since the two can't stand each other. She was just the attractive, if surly, mine owner. My power has a sense of humour, apparently. Lovely.
The point is that sleeping with a Jarl's wife is generally not a good idea when you have a working business relationship with that Jarl. And yet, Thaena is not a particularly pleasant woman. Pleasant to look at, clearly, but she's a bitter and often angry woman, and if I refuse her clumsy attempt at seduction, I could see her making more trouble for me. Who knows what she'd tell Korir, and nothing gets a Nord man's blood running red than the idea of another man sniffing around their woman. Gods know I saw my father beat enough men who let their eyes linger on my mother's… assets too long to know that.
And now I've reminded myself that his final moments were spent tied to a chair as a bunch of other men enjoyed those assets as much as they pleased. Damn it. I never thought I'd be hoping that my father died sooner because the idea of him being alive during that is even worse.
The point is, a scorned, bitter woman is the type to accuse me of whatever she pleases, and while I don't fear Korir or the guards, I could beat them with my hands behind my back, I fear the wasted time and effort that would come from dealing with the aftermath.
[Primarch Mentality] is oddly quiet on this, as apparently, whoever the template for this was, they didn't get into this kind of mess. Then maybe my power has another solution for this mess.
[Highborn] - 100cp, 200cp remaining
The High Elves are the most magically gifted of the races on Tamriel. Not only do they have more Magicka, but it regenerates extremely quickly after being used. Their pure blood also grants them resistance to diseases.
If my power had a face, I would punch it. How fucking dare you. With the power of the Iron Fist, my chi-enhanced reflexes disable it in an instant, before Thaena sees even a split second of elf ears. I would rather die.
[Highborn] disabled.
I am a Nord. A Nord I will remain. I'd sooner throw myself into the Sea of Ghosts than become a fucking knife-ear.
[Sweet Kiss of Death] - 200cp, 0cp remaining.
The raging Oni are deadly for more than their physical power. Some of them can lure men to their doom with little more than a glance or a heated breath, their very beings infused with temptation. Luring humans to indulge in all kinds of ill-advised passions is a talent of yours, charming and seducing easily without even relying on your new abilities. The drink that Oni love so much becomes part of you, allowing you to drug and intoxicate others with just your presence. Just being in your sight can cause thoughts to become heady, gazes lidded and passions awoken. The closer they come to you and the more intimate they get, the more intense this drug becomes. Even those of divine heritage might never escape your clutches if they accept a kiss from you. You gain a willing immunity to it all, both alcohol and charming effects, so long as you want to hold yourself above it all. And should you find things going wrong, you are able to turn any alcohol you touch into a terrible poison, ranging from those that deliver a variety of nasty status effects to such potency that only bones are left behind.
If it didn't say willing immunity to alcohol I would be trying to find a way to kill my power. Turn me into an elf then take away my booze in a single day? No Nord would do anything less than start a blood feud over such a thing.
I asked for an answer, and it gave me the exact opposite as I see Thaena's gaze become dark and hungry from the burst of my new power before I get it under control. I think she was already a little drunk, but now she's both lust and booze drunk from my mere presence as her towel falls entirely.
"You know I didn't ask you to come back for a map you'd already shown me," Thaena finally says, lust clear in her tone. Oddly enough, I got too wrapped up in the work and I did mostly think she wanted me back for more details. I knew she lusted for me because I'm not blind, and her actions made that clear, but I didn't think she'd try to act on it. "As I said, Jorgen… all of Winterhold is in your debt, but we've shown so little gratitude for all your hard work. Korir even joked about how little you were getting paid when your work is worth so much more. My pride demands I repay you for all your work, but gold or praise isn't enough, is it?"
As she steps closer, I consider my options before I make up my mind. I asked for a solution, and it seems I got one, in a way.
"You're right, the baths have been good for your skin," I joke, turning my power back on as her gaze grows heady. My hand comes to her breast, my thumb brushing against her rock-solid nipple as she gasps. "And how do you imagine you should pay me back?" I ask, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
"In the oldest of ways," Thaena responds, capturing my lips as I activate my new power and enthrall her with it. She goes limp in my arms as I step back.
"What are you going to tell Korir?" I ask, watching her almost blank gaze stare past me.
"That you raped me, to drive you and your foul magic out of Winterhold," Thaena responds in a soft trance. "Everyone knows about your endless lusts, and it made Korir jealous. I saw a chance to get rid of you."
Oh, mother fucker.
"You will forget any plans to drive me away. You love the comforts my magic has brought you, more than you hate magic itself. You will encourage Korir to cooperate with me, for the good of Winterhold," I purr into her ear as she stares blankly into space, letting out a quiet moan of agreement.
I've done all this work to improve Winterhold, and this bitch has been sitting there, enjoying all the benefits, while scheming to get rid of me because I'm a little too magic for her tastes? I'll admit, despite my usually calm demeanor, I am less than pleased at the moment as I grab a bottle of my spiced mead from her cabinet and consider what to do next as I down it, making sure this killjoy of a power doesn't ruin my fun.
– Later –
Waking up, I clutch my head in confusion, wondering what the hell happened. Infusing my body with Chi, I purge the aftereffects of what feels like one hell of a bender, and yet my mind remains blank.
I remember being with Thaena, finding out her scheme and then-
Spotting a note, I pick it up in confusion and read slowly.
'You really know how to make a party a wild one, Jor. Hope you find your pants, I think that chick in Solitude has them. Talk soon, Sam.'
…what?