A Little Comfort

The Bosmer was blocked into a corner and he looked about ready to cry.  “I don’t see why my opinion matters.  I… I do f-find you attractive, but I would never offend… I have never said anything that would disparage…”

 

“No one has said anything, Ronthil.  You’re been very good, I know.  In fact, your fine work and diligence has caught my eye.  I like you quite a bit, my dear Bosmer, and I want to know if you would like to be under my protection.”

 

“Protection?”  Ronthil’s quiet voice tested the word, soft and gentle like something fragile but infinitely valuable.  It sounded like something he had hoped for but never dared to think he would receive. 

 

“Yes.  I want you to be mine.  You can of course continue to work under Sadri if you like, but in essence you would answer only to me.  Neither Vingalmo, Orthjolf or any other court politics would concern you except my own.  Any issues you have with the others would be addressed to me, and I will handle them, as will complaints against yourself be brought to me.  You will be my vassal, and no one else’s.  Do you like the sound of that?”

______

 

Ronthil could not believe what he was hearing.  It just sounded too good to be true.  When she’d first called him he’d been terrified that she had caught him looking. For a while his gaze had wandered over the woman who had returned their lord’s daughter and then promptly usurped him.   How could one not be awed by her strength, her beauty… it had made him look, but he most certainly knew better than to get caught. 

 

He still shuddered to think of how irate Fura Bloodmouth had been when she’d sensed his gaze lingering on her, she’d had nothing but disgust that a weakling like him would so besmirch her with his eyes.  He hadn’t meant any harm, hadn’t planned to do anything, but the human-turn had nearly torn him apart in her fury.  Now he knew better than to cast his gaze onto others unless they asked for it.  So needless to say it was shocking to the Bosmer to have this woman, more powerful than any he’d ever known express some interest in him. 

 

It was difficult to believe, made even worse because he wanted to believe it so much.  He’d had similar offers before.  Vingalmo had been nice in the beginning as well.   The Altmer had talked about how his people and the Bosmer were on good terms, said he was the only one he worth his time.  Ronthil had been so happy to have a place, he’d accepted the altmer’s advances readily.  It had been alright at first, until Vingalmo revealed how cruel his tastes really were, and then he’d been even more vicious than before while still demanding his… services. 

 

And now staring at The Lady… the Dragonborn, he didn’t know what to say but, “yes.”

 

The woman smiled and Ronthil looked tentatively at her, his own smile not sure of its welcome. He fidgeted where he stood there, but then the lady’s hand was out, beckoning him closer.  He was scared, but he still wanted to believe in this chance.  The Bosmer was tired, and lonely, and he didn’t want to live like this forever.  So with a slow, fortifying breath Ronthil walked to the tall woman, his heart beating hard. 

______

 

Gods, the Bosmer was cute.  Watching him come to her so slowly, so frightened made her hunger grow, and it was a fight not scare him with the force of her desire.  He was fragile, broken from harsh use, but she’d bet he warmed quite well with gentle handling. 

 

Ronthil stopped right in front of her, shifting nervously under her gaze.  She was gentle when she pulled him closer, drawing the slight Bosmer into her lap.  He looked surprised, even if he allowed her to settle him there.  She kept smiling at him as her hands lazily began to explore the wood elf’s supple body.  The Dragonborn could feel the strong, lithe thighs straddling her tremble with tension but she was patient. 

 

The robes he wore were loose and soft beneath her hands, she could feel the magic of their enchantments warm beneath her fingers.  It felt different than the mer’s own magic shuddering within his frightened form.  She was studying his face from where it was so much closer to her, taking in those fine elven features she found so pleasing. 

 

She sensed his scrutiny as well, knew that Ronthil’s yearning gaze was running searchingly over her.  When her hands worked their way up she found herself carding them through the Bosmer’s hair, finding it remarkably soft.  The way many mer tended to keep it swept back she’d assumed that it was coarser, but it seemed that there was just some product keeping it that way.  “Your hair’s so fine… what’s in it that makes it stick up that way?”

 

The Bosmer seemed to start at the sound of her voice at first, but actually relaxed a little after she’d broken the silence.  “It’s a derivative potion, from Valenwood.  It… uses tree sap,” he whispered the last quietly as those watchful eyes finally drifted closed under her stroking. 

 

“Interesting.” She could feel him relaxing into her, and she smiled at that.  She’d known the lovely creature would do well under a bit of positive attention.  He was supple in her arms, and as she stroked the long line of back and touched his soft nutmeg hair the Bosmer melted.  The Dragonborn made a pleased sound deep in her throat when she felt him rub his cheek against her shoulder.  He was feeling better now, she could tell that.  Such a shame those others had so squandered his eager nature. 

 

“Feeling better?”

 

“Yes, my Lady,” he murmured, even though she still felt some tension in his form. 

 

“You said you wish to please me.  Is that still true?”

 

“Of course, my Lady.”

 

“Then show me, dear Ronthil.”