Chapter Text
The Gray Quarter.
What an insulting name.
Zalyn loathed the place like an insufferable itch. His people, the Dunmer, or what most humans called them, "dark elves", took refuge in the wintry slum of Windhelm, the ancient city in Skyrim. After Red Mountain erupted, many surviving Dunmer fled westward from the purging volcanic fire and ash that continuously ravaged their homeland Morrowind. Alas, Skyrim wasn't the promised land they'd hoped for. It was nothing like Morrowind. There was no winter in Morrowind. No cold, breezy winds either. Zalyn missed the lush-green plains, towering mushrooms, and swamplands back home. In Skyrim, the weather was frigid almost year-round. And worst of all, the land was full of Nords. The barbaric human n’wahs!
The Nords in Skyrim hated his people, as did the Dunmer towards them. They spat at the Dunmeri refugees, called them "gray skins" and to add insult, named their newfound home the Gray Quarter. Sometimes the Nords would empty their chamber pots onto their frostbitten cobblestone streets which reeked up the place. Zalyn spent most of his days in the New Gnisis Cornerclub, a tawdry tavern in the Gray Quarter, working as a doorman and drowning out the pains of his current disposition with a pint of sujamma, a beverage that reminded him of home.
Zalyn's pointed ears picked up a sudden commotion that came from across the room. Curiously, he perked up and saw a Dunmeri with bronze-gray skin and a head full of straggly red hair fondling a young, flaxen-haired Nord woman with hazel eyes and a face full of freckles. He had her straddled on his lap, smothering her with sloppy, drunk kisses.
"I told you to stay away from me," she hissed, her hands shoving his head away.
"Come on now," the mer slurred, unfazed by her rejection. He had one hand groping her bare thigh while the other squeezing her shoulder. "Why must ya be so harsh? I really, really like ya."
Zalyn hated Nords. He wouldn't care if the mer bend her over the table, lift up her skirt, and fuck her in front of him. His seething contempt towards the people of Skyrim had hardened him, made him desensitized to the ongoing affrays between the Nords and his kind. So much was taken from him, so much pain and trauma he harbored over the years left his heart cold, distant. Witnessing one human female being molested by a lustful drunkard wouldn't deprive him of any sleep. The other patrons in the tavern seemed to share the same indifference and went on about their business as usual, while the two barkeeps standing behind the counter spectated nervously from afar.
"I've told you several times before," the woman spat back, spurning the harasser's relentless advances the best she could. "I won't fuck you. Not after the last time."
"You're still mad at me?" he scoffed, his voice louder than before, as he leaned in closer. "I said I was sorry. I promise to be more gentle this time. I'll pay ya more."
The Nord girl recoiled, jerking her head away from him. The heavy stench of sujamma defiled her nostrils.
"I said no," she coughed in protest.
Now flustered, the drunk mer moved his hand from her shoulder and snaked its way into her blouse. The girl squirmed when she felt his greedy hand squeezed her breast.
"Give me what I want, slut," his voiced husked.
'Oh she is in trouble now...' Zalyn was deeply engrossed in the ruction between the two patrons across from him. Oddly enough, if memory served right him right, he could have sworn he had seen the young Nord before. He believed he saw her selling flowers in the market. She had the same blonde hair and wore a blue hooded shawl. He couldn't remember her actual name.
"I'm a whore, not a slut," Whatshername exclaimed.
"Makes no difference to me," The drunk mer grimaced as his hand grasped her neck tight, attempting to choke the air out of her. "Come with me to my place and fuck me, or else I'll fuck ya right here, right in front of these people."
"I said no!" Whatshername cried out. In a fit of fury, she snatched a nearby mug and slung it straight at his face, its liquid contents slashing into his red eyes. He bellowed and leaped out from the chair, forcing the woman off of him.
"Ya fucking cunt!" The drunk mer roared, kicking the table over in a blind rage. Audible gasps from the patrons filled the tavern as their freighted glares were on them. Even Zalyn was surprised. Whatshername franticly scurried up to her feet and ran out the door before her bully was able to nab her. Zalyn saw her smile quite triumphantly as she fled.
"Looks like you lost another bed-warmer, Uulan. You unlucky cur," he sneered, taking a swig.
The drunk mer dried off his damp face with his sleeve. "Shut up, s’wit! I swear, if I ever find that little bitch again, I'll give her somethin’ she won't enjoy. She’ll suffer for this."
"She sure did you dirty there. Best you clean up, because you also pissed yourself a bit," Zalyn motioned his mug like a pointed finger at the wet stain on the crotch of Uulan's pants.
Uulan growled deeply before clearing his throat, humiliated by his fellow mer's mordant comment.
"So, who is she?" Zalyn asked, still apathetic.
"The fuck do ya care?" Uulan cursed harshly, avoiding eye contact as he continued to dry himself down.
The mer shrugged. "Just curious. Never seen her before. You really fancied that one."
"Agne," Uulan huffed. "She's the flower girl from the market."
"Agne, huh? What a stupid name."
Agne ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. She kept running until her tired feet hit upon the doorsteps of the Temple of Talos. Her sanctuary. She rested against the cold stone wall to catch her breath before she entered the temple. That was too close for comfort. If she hadn't bolted out as quickly as she did, that ill-tempered bastard Uulan would have harmed her, or worse. Damned him! He pushed her too far. He forced himself on her too many times until she finally mustered the courage to defend herself. No doubt he's angry, wanting her dead.
Her mind spun with dreadful thoughts of him finding her and killing her as revenge for splashing sujamma in his ugly face. While her transgression felt liberating at first, the thought of that likelihood made her sick after. Uulan's an elf known for his pettiness and cruelty. She knew he would stop at nothing to get his grimy hands around her throat and beat her bloody. She knew the extent of his violence, she knew what he's capable of. She was his victim. She wasn't the first and probably wouldn't be the last. At this moment, he's plotting for her demise. She could feel it in her gut.
No longer she felt safe in Windhelm. She wanted to run away, far away from this drab city, but where would she go?
She didn't want to leave her two step-fathers behind. She loved them deeply and leaving without saying goodbye would hurt them. She felt trapped in this city, trapped in this brumal land shadowed by civil war. Skyrim is the homeland of the Nords, and they're a strong people, but the civil unrest had divided them more than ever. Fear loomed over the land like a thieving, outstretched hand on an unguarded coin purse.
'All because of your worship,' Agne mused, her hazel eyes peered up at the large stone statue of Talos, the Hero-God of Mankind, that stood far back in the Temple. Lit candles scattered around the statue, their dancing flames beckoning any lost soul to his worship.
Taking in the welcoming warmth of the interior, Agne took a deep breath and made her way into the temple. Quiet as a dormouse, she placed herself on one of the wooden pews and slumped her head down in desperate prayer.
Gods, what's she going to do? She didn't want to continue whoring herself for coin forever. She ghastly worried that her fathers would find out about her secret. Unveiling her secret to them would hurt them more, even anger them enough to disown her. She felt like a horrible daughter. She only became a whore in secret so that they could have enough, and sadly, on some days, it wasn't always enough. Selling flowers was just a front, disguising herself as an innocent, maidenly woman in public helped keep the prying eyes of the city guards away from her. Every day she carried a basket full of freshly-picked flowers and waited for a man to come by and offered them sex in exchange for coin. If ever caught by the guards, she'd wind up spending a month or more in a freezing jail cell. But now, they're the least of her worries. Now, she's fearing for her life.
Agne's heart sank in despair, mournful tears welled in her eyes and started to drip down her cheeks.
"Talos preserve me," she whimpered softly.
"Where have you been?" the silver-haired Dunmer asked. It was Endal, one of Agne's step-fathers. His gravelly tone was stern and carried a hint of both annoyance and genuine concern, as should any parent when their child came home late.
"I was at the temple praying. My apologies, father," Agne answered, almost startled, as she closed the door behind her. She greeted him with a tender peck on the cheek.
"You worry me too much, you know that?" he said, his tone unchanged. "It's not safe to wander off alone. Even inside the city's walls is not safe. For a moment I thought something has happened to you. "
"Oh, please stop pestering the poor girl, Endal," a familiar voice intervened. (Thank the gods.) That was her other step-father, Gadesi, who was a Dunmer as well. "You're acting like a mother hen again. She is grown."
"Which is why I'm worried," Endal wagged his finger at his husband. "She has blossomed into a woman. Men her age and older are going to chase after her and want to bed her..."
"Father please!" Agne begged, her cheeks flushing red. How embarrassing to hear these two bickering over her as if she were a small child. It didn't help, unbeknownst to them, that she wasn't a virgin and already had been with men, human and elf, her age and twice over. She knew they meant well, being her adoptive parents and all, but this was humiliating.
Endal and Gadesi turned silent and looked at Agne with concern on their faces. She buried her face in her hands, rocking from side to side.
"What's troubling you, child?" Gadesi broke the silence.
Agne slowly left her head up, frowning, and sniffed, "I...I didn't make any coin today."
That was a lie, but it was a believable lie. It seemed to have worked its magic because Gadesi comforted her with a hug.
"I expected as much. I think it's time for you to change your calling. Come now, my little fawn. Sulking around all day won't do you any good. Dinner is almost ready."
Soon after they ate dinner together. Ash yam soup, one of Agne’s favorite dishes, was served. They ate in silence, which wasn't unusual and Agne rather enjoyed the quietude of dinnertime. Later that night, she laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes felt heavy but she couldn't sleep. Ghastly thoughts plagued her weary mind.
“Hold still, bitch!”
She could hear Uulan’s scurrilous voice echo in her mind. Her neck tightened involuntarily, she could recollect his hands grabbing her by the throat, suffocating her, with a menacing grin on his face. That was his favorite thing to do during sex. He took unearthly pleasure in seeing her eyes roll back and her mouth heave for air to a point of blacking out. He relished it and Agne hated him for it, deeply. If he dropped dead tomorrow, she wouldn't shed a tear.
Damn him to Oblivion.