Strong drink

“How about a strong drink first?”

Eventually, there wasn’t any fighting at all. The strong drink was something called Black-Briar Reserve, which turned us from pleasantly tipsy into outright drunk. Before long Uthgerd had left the table, loudly declaring she was “going to talk some sense into those milk drinkers at Jorrvaskr,” and stumbling out of the inn.

“I ought to go home,” Carlotta slurred. “Gotta put Mila to bed.”

“I’ll walk you,” I said. “Just to be safe.”

Mila was elated she was allowed to stay up this late, and climbed over the rocks and terraces that hugged the streets of Whiterun. It wasn’t a long walk from the markets to the Wind District, where Carlotta’s modest house was built against the cobblestones of the inner wall.

A fire greeted me as I followed them inside. Carlotta offered me some food while I waited for her to put Mila to bed. My head was spinning as I stared into the fire and stuffed a sweet roll into my mouth, while listening to Carlotta singing a lullaby in another part of the house. She had a lovely singing voice, and for a while I was transported to a time when my mother sang me to sleep.

I was woken up by soft fingers brushing my hair behind my ear.

“I’m sorry,” Carlotta said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” I said. “Your lullaby was quite effective.”

She giggled. “Well, if you’re that sleepy, perhaps you shouldn’t walk back to the Bannered Mare.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand. “My bed’s big enough. If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”

I shook my head, and followed her op the ladder to the attic. Carlotta untied the bodice of her dress and slipped out of it, leaving her standing in a shift of fine linen.

“You need help with that?” She asked, pointing at my mail.

I shook my head and grinned, before throwing off my belt and bending over, causing the hauberk to slip over my head and dropping to the floor. The gambeson was just as easy, untied by a few pieces of leather, which - after removing the trousers - left me too in a nothing but a shift.

We crawled underneath the woolen covers. Carlotta was facing the other way and shivered.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Just a tad cold, as usual. Never truly got used to the climate, no matter how long I’ve been sleeping alone.”

“Do you miss it?” I asked. “Sharing a bed, I mean.”

She shivered again. “Some parts, yes.”

I put my arm around her waist, and pulled her closer, so that her back was pressed against me. “Here,” I said. “I’ll keep you warm.”

She sighed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt so… safe.”

I pressed my head between her shoulder blades, and I knew that for a moment I felt the same.

Maybe it was the ****. I’m pretty sure it was, actually. But at that moment I was back at Bruma again, hiding my tears for a father I’d hardly known, holding on to the only person who’d understand what it was like not to have that. I missed her, Klija, I mean. It hurt like a burning wound that she’d left me behind. She’d filled something within me, which had been ripped out by her departure. And now, even if only for a night, I felt not alone.

Carlotta turned her head and smiled. She had a lovely smile, and the darkest eyes I’d ever seen.

We kissed.

We kissed like it was the one thing we needed to survive, which maybe it was. I think we both knew it would be only this night, and we both decided we desperately needed it. That, or — again — the mead was having its way with us. Either way, our drunk tongues were dancing, wrestling one another, fiercely drinking each other in.

We pulled closer, shivering in our shifts, trembling in excitement. My hands hand moved up her body to her dark hair, running through it as if through the softest silk.

Hers slid downward, under my shift and over my hips. She hesitated a moment.