He decides to dance with Cerni.

"Fuck it - I'm going to dance with Cerni," he thinks, heart already pounding away. Cerni finishes straightening her skirts, and idly glances around. Their eye meet. "Fuck no no no," he glances away quickly. "Gods, what the fuck do I do? Am I just being crazy? Is a dance too far? This dance might be too far...unless we can lie to Halle," he thinks. He looks back at Cerni. She's looking her shoes, and shifts her head slightly. Their eyes meet again, but this time she's the one to glance quickly away. "Damnit Cerni, come on," he thinks. He keeps staring insistently at her, while she shuffles her feet around. Finally, she glances up again, and he nods aggressively as their eyes meet. She purses her lips and does a little shrug before nodding and keeping his gaze. A moment later the musicians sound the first note, and they walk to each other.

"Yur sista I can understand, but tha redhead? What's wrong wit' her?" she murmurs as they come together into the usual embrace, one arm around the other's back, the others clasped.

"I dun like Gwenevi," he says quietly, as the music starts proper and they begin to slowly spin around. "I like you," he thinks, looking down at her. She is charmingly flushed, the sheen of her sweat starting to collect into tiny droplets.

"Maybe yu shuld start," she says. "Wha're we gonna tell ma father?"

"Uhm, we're gud friends?" he says. "Might as well practice lying to Halle," he thinks.

"He'z not gonna believe that."

He chuckles nervously, as they spin around, the faces of the crowd flying past. "He's watching us right now," he thinks. "Do yu hav' a betta' idea?" he says, stumbling a bit over her feet, instinctively glancing down, eyes diverted from his feet to her breasts.

She winces. "We could act mor' drunc," she says. "We uh...buth saw friendly face, or sumthin'. Didja see tha ass in front of me? No one wuld wanna dance with 'im."

"My sista gave 'im that mouth," he says proudly, as Izabel dances by with Heljo, smiling and nodding politely.

Cerni grins. "That makes me like yur sista even more," she says. "Zo that's wha we'll do? Act mor drunc?"

"What else could we do?" he thinks. "Sure, it'll work," he says, stumbling for good measure, only half intentionally. They swing apart widely, narrowly avoiding other dancers before returning to the close embrace.

"It'll hav' to do," she murmurs.

He doesn't remember how long this dance is. "I don't want it to end," he thinks, as they dance around silently now, having fallen into a mutual examination of each other. Cerni runs her eyes up and down him while he does the same, exploring her close up, as much as he can. He marvels at how each strand of her hair seems to be some variation of blonde: gold, wheat, sun, honey, bronze. The way her lips part slightly as she breathes in and out. The scar of an old blemish in the crook of her nostril. The statuesque strength of her jaw. The glint of her necklace around her throat. The thing that he can barely see, far in the distance of her brown eyes, behind endless gates and paddocks, pacing, hungering to get out.

Then the music ends with a final flourish, and they release from their embrace, and slowly move off to the side. Halle is, surprisingly, no where in sight. "Now what?" Domic thinks. He glances over to Cerni, who looks back up at him, confused, wondering, magnetic. A wicked thought pops into his head, and he grins devilishly.

"Wha?" she says, flushing, eyes glancing around.

"Come wit' me," he says, turning away from her, starting to move through the crowd.

"Where? Wha 'bout-"

"Cerni," he interrupts. "Come wit' me," he says, a bit bluntly, voice tinged with impatience, before he reconsiders. She glances down, then back up, seemingly considering his words.

"Alright," he sees her murmur, so quiet he doesn't catch it over the sound of the crowd. They move forward, him leading her, something gnawing at the back of his mind. It's a little thought, trying to make itself heard over competing thoughts: the devilish one he's holding on to, and the one telling him this is a terrible idea. He leads Cerni out of the main room of the tavern, away from the crowds of people.

...

They're on the second floor of the tavern. "Gee, I wonder what happens up here," he thinks, looking down a long hallway of doors, moans and groans trickling out from behind a few closed ones. He looks inside an open door - the room is absurdly bare, containing only a table that is bathed in moonlight from a round glass window. "It'll do I guess," he thinks, walking inside, turning around. Cerni is still outside, looking at him with her big brown eyes, chest heaving slightly. For a moment he considers saying something, but he doesn't, he waits. "It's her turn, it's her turn to fucking decide for once, let's see if she can control herself," he thinks angrily. Part of him wants her to, the devilish thought wants her. The other part doesn't, and if she walks away, he'll shut the door, and get the relief he needs, the relief that will finally bring clarity.

Cerni walks in, and shuts the door behind her, walking past him. "Why Cerni why?" he thinks and sighs, angry at her, angry at himself.

"Wha can I du foor yu?" she coos.

"What can yoou do fur me?" he questions. "Yoou wanta know what yoou can do fur me, Cerni?" he hisses, turning to her, advancing. "Fur one, yoou can sthop teasin' me," he gets closer, she retreats, "yoou can sthop blueballin' me," his voice rises, she glances down, mouth open, "and yoou can shtop-" she backs into the table, jumping with a little squeak, and looks timidly up at him. "Who is this?" he thinks, confused. "Where's the Cerni who slices through danger, who charges ahead?"

"Why'd yu stop?" she murmurs, eyes locked to his.

"Because yoou're actin' weird Cerni, yoou're actin' shy - like yoou're scared of me. I'm scared of yoou!" he says blubbers, backing away from her, standing against the wall.

"Yu're scared of me?" she says, suddenly hurt.

"No nuh, came out wrong - your swordplay, whateva'. Not yooou," he says, emphasizing with his hands.

"Oh, right, uhuh gud," she murmurs, looking down, sighing. "It'z uh, a dream, I had, tha's why I wus actin' like that."

"What? I dun unda'stand."

She flushes embarrassedly, then looks straight at him, smiling weakly. The thing he saw in her polished brown eyes has come closer now, past a few gates, and paces, hungering. "Iz a dream, yu actin' roguish, yu uh, orderin' me, usin' me. It excites me," she says, blushing heavily, hands on the table, legs rubbing together under her skirts.

"Oh, uh," he mumbles. The devilish thought has been in control since she walked in, and it's already molding ways it can use her dream. He can feel himself getting hard. "Zo, yoou like it when I command yoou?" he says, walking slowly towards her, heart pounding with nervousness and excitement.

"Um, yez," she murmurs, watching him.

He comes close to her, standing in front of her. She stares up at him, eyes-wide, her chest heaving slowly. "Yu'll tell me if yu wanna sthop?" She nods. "Take off ma breeches, Cerni." She looks down at the front of his breeches, slowly undoes the laces, and pulls them down a bit. His hard, throbbing cock jumps out and stands at attention, ready.

"Do yu wanna fuck me?" she looks up breathlessly, her eyes and tone leaving no mistake that she desperately wants that.

He gulps. "I could, we could do it - but that'd be it, we'd probably never be able to stay away from each other," he thinks. "Dun tempt me, put...put yoour 'ands on tha table," he grunts, and she does. He grabs and starts to stroke his cock with one hand, and reaches out to clasp the underside of her chin with the other.

"I culd do that, I culd stro-"

"Quiet, Cerni, watch," he commands, and she does. He moves closer to her, stroking his cock a bit faster now, its bulbous head almost touching her. "Lift skirt," he murmurs, starting the march to orgasm. She does so obediently, silently, lifting up the front of her skirts, all the way up. She rubs her calves together as she reveals her gartered thighs and panties. He looks down, marveling at them - the front of them are slightly damp.

"Can I touch maself pleaz-" she says, after a minute, or maybe two, of him stroking, her watching.

"No, only me, unly I touch yoou," he says, a bit more forcefully than intended. "This is starting to get to me, have to hurry up," he thinks. Cerni squirms, eyes begging up at him, but she just holds her skirts up, as he runs his hand down her neck, to the neckline of her bodice.{if Cerni's Love = 25} He grasps the top of one of her breasts, and easily pulls it out, kneading it. "Tooo easy," he murmurs. "Shuwin' otha' men? Wha's mine?" he mumbles, pretending to be upset. "Gods did I really just say that?" he thinks, feeling a rush of excitement and a bit of guilt.

"No no no, neva' I neva," she stammers, trembling with nervous excitement, staring wide-eyed at him.{elseif Cerni's Love < 25} He moves his hand down and grasps one of her breasts, kneading it through her bodice. "Shuwin' cleavage, to otha' men?" he mumbles, pretending to be upset.

"No no, unly foor yu, unly yu," she stammers, trembling a bit with excitement, staring at him.{endif} She rubs her legs together again. "Pleaze, Domic, I wanna touch me, pleazeee," she begs.

"No. Watch. Wait til' yoou home," he says, stroking himself a little faster now, kneading her breast a little harder. He does this for a time that seems long, but couldn't have been, enjoying himself, enjoying her body. He can feel himself getting closer now, closer to release.

"Let me touch yu, pleaze, I wanna-" she begs, glancing between his eyes and his cock.

"Be quiet, Cerni," he says, as he stops fondling her breast. "Yu dun listen very well," he murmurs, stroking his cock slowly, savoring the sensations, the sensation of her looking at him.

"I'm zorry, I'll listen," she mumbles, breathing heavily, gripping the table, rubbing her legs.

"Tha's right yu will - now get up." She slides off the the table. "Give me yur panties," he mumbles. She pauses, slack-jawed, and for second he worries he's gone too far, but then she leans down, reaches up under her skirt, and pulls them off for him. He snatches them from her hand. They are silky soft, and warm, and moist. She simply stares at him with her big brown eyes, chest rising and falling slowly. He engulfs his cock with her panties, stroking himself with them. He groans, as the subtle silk tickles his skin, her wetness lubricating him now. "Now listen," he says, feeling himself nearing to the end, his cock twitching, throbbing as the silky folds run over them. "Yu'll be a gud girl, and finish yurself at home, alright?" he says, pushing her back down onto the table, hand clasping her chin, drilling into her eyes.

"Uhhuh," she breathes, blushing furiously.

"And we'll furget 'bout thiss, 'bout us. We wun't do anyting more like thiss, alright?" he says, not wanting to. He's almost there, he starts to clench up.

"Yez," she murmurs, not wanting to.

"Gud," he breathes, and then{if Cerni's Love = 15} he strokes himself once, twice, and bliss is lancing through his mind, as he rolls back his eyes, mouth open in a noiseless moan. He aims and shoots onto the floor, emptying all the buildup of the last few days, stroking it all out with her damp silk.{elseif Cerni's Love = 20} he strokes himself once, twice, thrice, holds it, before bliss tears through his mind and body. He manages to keep a few seconds of electrifying eye contact with her, before rolling them back and groaning. He explodes into the silken folds of her panties, dumping all of his dayslong buildup of cum into them, turning them into a gooey mess.{elseif Cerni's Love = 25} he murmurs: "Now finish me." Quick as lightning, her hand is shoving his aside, grasping him hard, stroking him hard. He grasps her head with both hands, and jerks her close, so she can see, she'll see what's she's going to do to him. Cerni, openmouthed, eyes smothering him with lust, jerks him once, twice, thrice, again! And then ecstasy is barreling through him, he is thrusting and emptying into her silken panties as she strokes him, his jaw clenching, face contorting, trying to keep looking into her amazed eyes, showing her what she does for him.{endif}

Then he releases his hold on her, a wave of relief crashing over him, and{if Cerni's Love = 25} after a moment of feeling him, she slowly cleans off his cock with her panties, now a ruined, cum-filled mess. He sighs, contentedly, happily, as she finishes, pulling her hand away, clutching her panties tightly.{else} after a moment, he tosses her panties back to her. She catches them, clutching them tightly.{endif} "Whow," she mouths, face red as fire.

He catches his breath for a moment. "I'm zorry," he murmurs, clarity finally hitting him. "I shuldn't hav' done that."

"It'z alright, I've got more," she murmurs, seemingly coming down a bit as well, knowing they're finished.

"Yu'll do what I asked?" he says, pulling up his breeches before the thought of it excites him again. A drunken wave of tiredness flows over him, and he stumbles onto the table next to her.

"I hav' too," she says, with a mix of excitement and longing. He watches as she stuffs her panties down her cleavage, the only place she can.

"I'm zorry tha yu're...tha yu couldn't," he mumbles.

"It'z alright," she says, clasping his hand. "I asked yu to. And yu gave me 'nough foor one last dream," she coos, beaming at him, reassuring him. He nods, and they sit in silence for a couple of minutes, composing themselves, before heading out the door.

...

"Fuck," Domic thinks, as he and Cerni run directly into Torjo, coming up the stairs, looking right at them. Before they can explain, or lie, or beg for mercy, Torjo is holding up an open hand for silence.

He sighs, and Domic sees him argue with himself, before losing again. "I didn't see you two come out of that room together," he finally says. "Cerni, you're to walk down the hall, find a door to the outside, return inside through a back door, and mingle in the party. Domic, you're coming with me to talk to Halle, about why you chose to dance with Cerni, and nothing else. You're both going to forget whatever you did in that room, because that was your final mistake. For both your sakes. Now go," he says. Cerni, with a final wistful glance at Domic, scampers away down the hall, while he glumly follows Torjo.

They find Halle chatting with some craftsmen in the main room of the tavern, still loud and packed. Torjo motions him over. "Ah, there you are, Domic, been looking all over for you. Where'd you find him?" he asks Torjo, pebbly eyes fixed on him as he comes within range.

"Alone upstairs, Captain," Torjo says smoothly.

"Gods bless and guard you forever Torjo," Domic thinks, preventing himself from making any acknowledgement.

Halle stares at Torjo for a second. "Alright...let's go talk," he says, with a smile.

Halle leads Domic to a smaller room of the tavern - evidently where people go to get some peace, or have quiet conversations. There are a few men and women inside, seated at various candlelit tables, talking amongst themselves. "At least I don't have to worry about him murdering me here," he thinks morbidly, as Halle motions to a small table tucked in the corner.

"Please, sit," Halle says politely, his tone demanding immediate obedience.

"Eh, thank yoou, Captain," he murmurs, sitting. "Here goes," he thinks, heart beating quickly.

Halle sits down across from him, regarding him with his dark pebbly eyes. Domic stares back, uncomfortable, knowing what's coming, practicing his part, as Halle seems to skewer straight through to his mind. Finally, he speaks: "Did you enjoy dancing with Cerni, Domic?"

"Well, I uh, unly danced wit' 'er 'cause -" he stammers, heart accelerating straight to the moon.

"Domic," Halle interrupts, leaning forward. "Please, don't insult me by lying to my face. Did you enjoy dancing with my daughter, yes or no?" he says, dangerously quiet.

"I'm dead," he thinks. "Yes, I did," he murmurs resignedly.

"Good, you should have. My daughter is lovely," Halle says, leaning back, smiling a bit, looking him in the eye.

"Maybe not quite yet," he thinks, relaxing a mote.

Halle lightly strums his broad fingers on the table and leans forward. "When I was young, just uh, a bit older than you, I had the good fortune to travel south, far south, to the Sun Coast. I saw many wonderous things there, but one thing I shall never forget. It was at a festival there, I saw a troupe of acrobats, who walked across a rope strung between two platforms that were dozens, or even a hundred, feet high," he says, raising his hand. "Their balance was impeccable, it was said they rarely fell, if ever. The masters of the troupe," he lowers his hand, crosses his arms, and leans back. "Taught children the techniques of maintaining their balance, practicing with lower ropes, a few feet high. If the children fell, there was no great harm done - they climbed back up and tried again, progressing to higher and higher ropes," he says, and pauses for a moment.

Domic nods, keeping Halle's gaze. "I understand," he thinks.

"They did tricks as well: flips, jumps, swings. One trick, a cruel one, which they played on the audience, and which the older, more experienced initiates played on the young beginners, was to pretend to fall," he says, eyes boring into Domic.

"No," he thinks, the tiny seed planted.

"Yes, they would pretend to teeter and fall, catching themselves with their hands or legs, maybe even act as if their grip was slipping."

"She was just?" he thinks, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

"It very exciting, but they always pulled themselves back up, and continued on their way," he says. "I recommend going to see them, if you can," Halle finishes. Domic can only nod, grimacing, trying to fight off the poisonous, hurtful thoughts in his mind. "Now, I think the party's winding up, and you've got muster tomorrow at noon. Let me get a wagon for you and Izabel, so you don't have to trudge home," he says, smiling.

"Thanks, Captain," he murmurs quietly.

Halle loudly snaps his fingers. Domic shudders internally as every single man and woman stop their conversations and turn to them. "Can someone go get a wagon, and another bring some water for Domic here?" he questions them. A man and a woman get up and bow slightly to Halle as they leave. Halle then stands, politely inclines his head, and stomps away, leaving Domic sitting alone at the table.

...

He and Izabel arrive home, having endured a jarring but thankfully short wagon ride back to their home. Izabel is still just as drunk as he is, if in a better mood. “Come ‘ere, Domic,” she asks, calling him from the kitchen. He shuffles into the dark kitchen, where she is squinting at two jars in the poor light. Finally, she hands him one. “Drink – help wit’ ‘angover tomorrow,” she says, popping the lid off hers and downing it. He does the same – it tastes terrible, some bitter, runny sludge. He coughs as she sets her jar down, looking at him. "Yu alright? I'm zorry it tastes bad."

"Yez, fine," he wipes his lips clean.

"How wuz dancin' wit' Cerni? And where'd yu two go, afterwards?" she says, teasingly.

"Nowhere," he says sharply.

"Oh, uh, I'm-"

"I've got muster tomorrow," he says grumpily. "Gudnight," he grunts, and then he stomps upstairs and gets ready for bed. As his eyes shut, and sleep rides towards him, he tries to fight off the poisonous and sickening thought in his head.