The sickly sweet scent hit his nose first, the aroma of dragon's breath conjuring so many pleasant, hazy memories of well-wasted evenings. He smiled as he inhaled, before frowning sharply, frustrated he could enjoy none of those pleasures for the moment. Once this was over, he had a lot of catching up to do.

Edwistyr pushed open the door to the low class establishment on the coast of Lainlyn—The Toad and Ogre Tavern—with a grimace, displeased at the sweat laden heat, the dank gloom, and the tuneless drunken singing of a bawdy song about a very sinful rogue. This was not the sort of place he cared to frequent, at least, not unless he had the right kind of company to go along with it.

He stepped in, moving quickly to the side to avoid crashing into a giggling serving wench, wondering how it had come to this. Somehow everything in his life suddenly changed, almost as if the world turned upside-down in the span of a few missing hours. He instinctively touched the back of his head, reassuring himself of the smooth flesh underneath the tousled waves, no bump to be found.

He still had no idea how he'd come to wake up lying in the salon in Wickton Manor, his head aching beyond any hangover. He had only the vaguest recollection of meeting with Cerisse, the proposal not going well, and then...he woke up in immense pain on the tiled floor of his cousin's country estate. That was the first memory he had, the start of this strange sequence of events.

Straightening his clothes, he moved further into the throng, glancing around in search of his contact. With every grey head he saw he couldn't help looking twice, wondering if luck would deliver him next to Theodyrick. The man's chamberlain was just as perplexed as Edwistyr as to what had happened to his cousin. According to the ugly fellow, his master had gone out in a rush, leaving no instructions as to his expected return. Edwistyr waited a week in the quiet old house, the first couple of days in a painful fog of recovery, fully anticipating Theodyrick to walk in at any moment, snapping out commands in his grumpy voice in preparation to return to Wayrest.

Except he never came back, instead the very dangerous looking agents of the bank showing up at the front door, inquiring about Lord Wickton, wishing to discuss some irregularities in his accounts. Edwistyr, passing himself off as a dimwitted servant, managed to send them away. Mildly concerned his irregularities were the cause of the questions he'd left under cover of night, journeying to Wayrest in hopes of finding further information there.

He spent his time moving over pitted roads, staying in lousy inns, thoroughly exhausted by the time he reached home, glad things would return to normal. Only they hadn't, nobody having heard a word about Theodyrick, his cousin's townhouse cold and empty. Returning to his own place he caught sight of the waiting men—big, brutish, and unmistakably in the employ of bankers—lurking near the front door. In the only piece of luck he had since waking up with a head full of pain, he managed to avoid them, turning to his many friends for a place to sleep and a way to keep out of sight.

His gold running out, his friends' patience wearing thin, he finally broke into Theodyrick's townhome, looking for something valuable to sell, as well as any hints as to where his cousin had disappeared. Sitting on the table in the entranceway, under a vase of dried, rotten flowers, he found answers to one half of the puzzle.

Ysausa, that unassuming woman, had left a scathing note for her husband, written just after his departure from Wayrest. While her tales of her affair with her decorator—as well as details of her clever schemes to siphon off their gold in payment to said decorator before running off with him, leaving Theodyrick alone, broke, with nothing but the ugliest home in Wayrest in consolation—were entertaining, they hadn't helped Edwistyr in the slightest. Though he had to admit he felt a grudging respect for the woman as he put the note back, surprised by her ability to come up with such a devious scheme. Perhaps she hadn't been colourblind after all.

A beautiful Redguard walked by, catching his eye, bringing an admiring smile to his lips. It was always the women in his life who turned out to be the most helpful, one of his married lovers providing him with a way to escape his predicament, pointing him in the direction of a rundown tavern near the docks of Wayrest, a place it was rumoured could make a man disappear. By that point it was the only option he could see, other than ending up languishing in prison for debts, so he quickly pursued it. The grumpy Redguard running the place hadn't proved very friendly, but he agreed to help for a surprisingly small amount of gold.

After an eternity waiting in a cramped cellar, then carefully smuggled across the bay in a cramped boat, Edwistyr finally arrived in Morilliton, to come under the care of another Redguard. This man complained bitterly the entire wagon ride about how much he hated to wait. With some terse instructions and a distinct lack of patience he deposited Edwistyr here, at this pit of a tavern in Syrrallao, a dive of a port town. Now, to find this captain, and discuss passage to Morrowind. Edwistyr had a cousin there, on his mother's side, who was doing rather well for himself. With a little help, and the acquaintanceship of some new friends, he was sure he'd be back on his feet in no time. Maybe he'd even get to find out if what they said about Dunmeri women was true...

Stopping in his tracks, trying hard not to think about why the floor beneath his shoes felt sticky, he gaped at the spectacle beside him. A shirtless Dark Elf, eyes closed as if in meditation, sat in a near booth. His companion, a remarkably curvy Bosmer...Bosmerish creature—as the Wood Elves neither possessed such ample charms, nor such delicate features—occupied herself in the most unusual way. She held a caliper, of all things, to the Dunmer's lower lip, tugging it forward to expose the sensitive inner flesh, her delightfully pink tongue tracing sensual patterns on it as she murmured seductively.

Sensing Edwistyr's curious gaze she turned her face towards him, staring boldly at him as she continued her ministrations on the mer. Her shift in position pulled the Dunmer from his trance, the mer easing his lips away from her floral-painted calipers to glare menacingly, the faintest of growls escaping his throat.

"Hey there, sunshine. Something I can help you with?" the mer of questionable pedigree called out as she sank back down into her seat, the movement revealing an absence of arm on her other side where she leant into the Dunmer. She certainly had Bosmer in her, her ears long and tapered, extending far from her head. Several piercings rattled in the tips, a scandalous detail Edwistyr couldn't help noticing, especially when the Dunmer suddenly snapped forward, tugging on one with his teeth, eliciting a throaty gasp from the wanton creature by his side.

"There might be," Edwistyr answered, slipping onto the bench across from them, giving her his most charming smile. He tried hard to ignore the intense dislike in the Dunmer's eye, the mer rather intimidating to behold, with the circle of scars on his stomach, his thick muscles, and his somewhat flattened nose, probably a result of one too many bar fights. Noticing Edwistyr's eyes on him, the mer pulled out a ridiculously tiny silver dagger while raising his lips in a malevolent sneer, before using the tip of it to clean his teeth.

Paying no attention to the mer, Edwistyr leant forward towards the woman, putting as much warmth as he could in his words. "I'm looking for a most talented captain..."

She laughed, a wicked, wonderful laugh, before tucking a wayward black curl behind her ear. No mer had curls like that. "Oh, sweetness, you're looking right at her. Now why don't you tell me what sort of wild ride you're looking for?" She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand, and dipped forward, dazzling him with an abundance of cleavage.

Damn, he liked this creature.

With as much innuendo as he could, he discussed passage to Morrowind, surprised by her boast at how quickly her ship could take him there. Reading between her comments about his accommodation he was positive he'd find himself placed in the captain's own quarters. If her choice of tavern was any indication, she probably had many a pleasurable treasure aboard her ship. This was shaping up to be the most fun he'd ever had at sea.

"How's he paying?" the Dunmer's grumpy question, interrupting a very naughty joke he'd just shared with her, surprised Edwistyr.

"The s'wit's right, honey. My ship don't sail for free," the captain concurred, punctuating her words with a leering wink, safely out of sight of the mer. "You want to plow through the spray, you've got to pay."

"This should cover most of the costs," Edwistyr smoothly answered, pulling the ring from a secret pocket. He held the fat ruby out, the vaguest of memories bubbling up at the sight of it. It was an old piece, stolen long ago after convincing the lover he took it from she'd gifted it to him in a drunken fit of generosity. All he could recall was Cerisse hadn't cared for it. He briefly wondered if those preposterous rumours about her were true, if she really was betrothed to that grey Orc. Surely not—probably nothing more than the gossips telling their usual tales.

The captain held out her hand, allowing him to place it on her index finger while taking as many opportunities as possible to gently tease her calloused skin. She brought it close to her face, inspecting it with a grin, before pointedly shoving it in the direction of her companion. The mer didn't flinch, but he did curl his lip in disdain, pausing the motion of his tiny dagger to do so.

"Once we're on board, it'll be all yours..." Edwistyr reached forward, intending to take it back from her, but the Dunmer reacted with a shocking speed, flicking the miniature dagger down to the table, point landing in between Edwistyr's splayed fingers. Taking the hint, he withdrew his hands. "Or you can hold on to it for me."

"It's a start," she murmured, wiggling her finger, allowing the jewel to sparkle back at her in the gloom of the torches. "I'm sure I'll think of something you can do to earn the rest of your keep." The delightful promise in that little word make him smile. This was shaping up to be a fantastic voyage.

Arrangements finalized, they made their way out of the tavern down to the docks, Edwistyr escorting the captain by her one arm, the mer malevolently trailing behind. The jeers and curses of drunken sailors drifted past on the night breeze, masking the rustling of the palm fronds. Her ship turned out smaller than he'd expected, but he wasn't about to complain.

The captain began to bark orders to her crew, preparing them to weigh anchor and set sail. Initial instructions complete, she urged Edwistyr down the hatch, to climb the rickety ladder all the way to the bottom. He did as she asked, finding himself in a narrow hallway in the cargo hold, sturdy walls set with solid doors partitioning the cramped space.

"You sleep down here?" he asked as she dropped down beside him. He stepped back, further into the hall, to make room for her.

"Oh, sweetness, I sleep wherever I please," she answered with a purr, reaching forward to stroke his cheek.

Suddenly his legs crumpled out from under him, an unnatural heaviness pressing his body down to the wooden planked hull. Edwistyr couldn't move, his limbs refusing to function, his head unable to turn.

"I thought you didn't know how to paralyze," the Dunmer gruffly stated as he stepped over Edwistyr. "Any particular cell?"

"Far right," the captain answered, her hand briefly waving in Edwistyr's vision as she pointed. "And it's not paralysis. It's a burden spell."

"Where'd you learn that trick?" the mer asked, his strong hands clutching Edwistyr's arms, dragging him down the hall with no concern for comfort.

"Telvanni friend of mine. Haven't seen her in ages—I'll have to look her up when we get to Morrowind." Edwistyr caught sight of the wicked creature as she stood in the doorway, pointing here and there as she ordered the mer to put him on the hard plank bunk. "Hey, don't damage him too much," she protested when the Dunmer accidentally knocked his head off the wall. "I've got a reputation for quality. It won't do to sell spoilt merchandise."

"I still can't believe there's a market for him," the mer sneered, letting Edwistyr drop. The discussion made his blood run cold. He'd heard of such things, disreputable taverns where pirates kidnapped people, selling them into slavery, but those were supposed to be nothing but rumours...

"He's pretty enough," she replied idly, "if a bit worse for wear. He'll fetch a good price. Y'know, maybe I'll offer him to my Telvanni friend first. She does have a thing for brunettes."

"Do you think she'll have any of that salve for sale? I gave away my last tin," the mer's voice grew muffled as he pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Edwistyr alone in the dark.

He couldn't hear the captain's response, but he did hear her low giggles followed by a sudden, delighted shriek. As she scampered away down the hall the mer called after her. "On this ship you can run but you can't hide, and as soon as I catch you, you can bet your pretty little calipers I'll obey that order right away, you fetching pirate queen."

The mer's heavy footsteps faded away, leaving Edwistyr lying in an awkward position on the unyielding bunk, listening to the slapping of the water against the hull, and the occasional creak of wood overhead. He managed to hold panic at bay for a while, at least, until the faint squeaking reached his ears. No, anything but rats...

What had he ever done to deserve this?

Standing at the bow of the ship, watching the setting sun sparkle off the water, feeling the salt-scented wind gently caress his face, Agronak smiled. This was far better than he'd ever imagined.

"There you are," the happy voice called out to him, his blushing bride walking over to join him. "I've been looking all over for you. So the potion worked?"

"I'd say so," he answered, tugging her close, "though the lack of lurching helps too."

"I don't think it's possible for a ship this big to lurch," Cerisse murmured, rubbing her hands over the painted railing. "It's rather gracious of them."

"Synderius said they were highly pleased with our work," Agronak answered. "And I know Lilia felt bad about missing the wedding."

"Still, passage home on the finest Imperial barge in the fleet..." Cerisse trailed off, shaking her head. "You do have well-connected friends."

"We have well-connected friends," he corrected, turning her new pet word back at her, "just like we are related to half of High Rock."

It started small, a trickle of relatives arriving early in Tamborne, Cerisse's siblings coming to assist with the final preparations and take advantage of the opportunity to visit. Just as he felt comfortable with the names of the in-laws, nieces, and nephews, a flood of cousins, uncles, and aunts crashed over him in force. By the morning of the wedding, he found himself so overwhelmed with new faces he could no longer distinguish between Alabyval's family, Evie's relatives, and the friendly citizens of Tamborne.

Hopefully the perplexed cheese merchant wouldn't take advantage of Agronak's offer to come visit the family in Crowhaven one day...

"We are not," she huffed, poking him lightly in the chest. "I still don't see how you find it confusing. Besides, you'll get to know them better soon enough. Uncle Albyn and Aunt Mette want to come to Crowhaven once the busy season's over, and we've already had three different invitations to visit my cousins out in Anticlere..."

"Let's wait until we're home before discussing this," he interrupted, scooping her up in a spin. Ever since she confessed she liked it when he did that, he took every opportunity he could to sweep her off her feet. "I'm a bit wary of travel for the moment."

"Really?" Cerisse asked with a coy smile, her hand tracing the contours of his cheek. "Don't tell me the mighty warrior is scared of something. I won't believe it of someone so brave," a soft kiss punctuated the description, "so ra gada," this kiss lingered longer, her voice growing huskier, "so handsome..."

The murmured word drifted away on the sea breeze as her lips remained, warm hands skimming over his shoulders, her breaths deepening...

"Oh, by Dibella, that's so romantic!" Ria's cooing voice shattered the moment. "The sunset, the pose—Dyn! Come see this!"

"Ri Ri, that's my sister you're talking about," Dyn's tart reply floated out from his spot, safely hidden from view around the corner. "Never will anything she's involved in possibly be romantic. Disgusting, horrific, and terrifying, yes. Romantic, no."

"It's safe to come out," Cerisse dryly called, her feet firmly back on deck, mild annoyance in her tone. She rolled her eyes at Agronak, expressing her frustration at perpetually trying to reign in her younger sibling. He knew she hoped Gondyn's first assignment working in the family business—of setting up a small office in Anvil—would temper his tendency to turn everything into a joke. Though he personally felt it wouldn't matter what the man did—he never took anything entirely serious.

Cerisse turned to her sister, expression softening as the young woman joined them by the railing. "You're settled in?"

"Yes, Reesy," Ria answered, hint of petulant child tired of being mothered in her voice. "I have travelled by ship before, in case you've forgotten. I know what I'm doing." She shook her head, sharing a sympathetic look with Agronak, as if to say she understood how bossy her sister could be at times. So far, he found himself unable able to return it in kind. "Tell me again about the Imperial City. Is the prison really so big it has its own district?"

With a chuckle he eased her worries, assuring her most of the citizens were law-abiding folk, and the district was mainly filled with the headquarters of the Legion. He tried hard to hide it—while he encouraged Ria's decision to travel there to seek out an instructor for her voice in hopes of pursuing her dream of becoming a bard, he couldn't help feeling a few reservations about her ability to take care of herself. She'd always maintained a sort of naïve innocence in his eyes.

Cerisse certainly worried about her sister's plan, the amount of gentle persuasion she'd employed trying to convince Ria to study closer to her family's home far outstripping Evie's flustered mutterings. However, Ria stood firm in her choice, and after a vent of frustration in which she revealed she wanted to leave some unhappy memories far behind for a while, Cerisse's attitude changed to that of begrudging acceptance. She really did have her loved ones best interests at heart, which was one of the things he adored about her—she hadn't retired her role of protectress with the end of her Blade duties.

Gondyn reluctantly emerged into view, large watermelon tucked under his arm, mischief in his eyes. Seeing he wouldn't encounter any horrific mental scarring, he walked over to tap Ria on her far shoulder, snickering when she turned to look as he leaned against the railing on her other side. "Hear that, Ri Ri? You'll have to watch yourself in the city—no getting into any fights while you're there."

"Dyn." Agronak recognized Ria's tone—it was the same one Cerisse took whenever she wanted the man to stop talking about a certain topic. It was also the one that never worked.

"You'd better warn your friends in the Arena, Aggyronak," Gondyn winked at Agronak's growl. The man, banned from calling him Aggy, somehow managed to hastily say it anyway whenever he called Agronak by name. "My sister's become quite the brawler. We couldn't be prouder."

"Jekosiit," Ria hissed under her breath as she warded off Gondyn's hand, which was attempting to pat her on the head like a pet dog. "You'll muss my hair."

"Ria, what's he talking about?" Cerisse asked, eying her siblings suspiciously.

"You didn't tell them?" Gondyn questioned incredulously. "Ri Ri, you were brilliant! You're definitely the cleverest baby sister I've got."

"I'm the only baby sister you've got," she muttered, smile dancing on her lips, betraying her pleasure at the praise nonetheless. "I've got to give Aggy the credit, though. I couldn't have done it without his help."

"And what did I help you do?" Agronak asked, moving to the side in an attempt to get a better look at her. With the setting sun behind her, she appeared to wear a crown of fire, her face hidden in late evening shadows. Each step he took—without the assistance of wall or railing—bolstered his confidence. Maybe it wasn't that his body disagreed with sailing—maybe it was the sort of ship which made the difference.

"That twit from the mages guild—" Gondyn began, cut off when Ria nudged him with her hip.

"Evoker Bierles," she stated loudly, making it quite clear she would tell the tale, "showed up while I was in Tamborne, helping Cyovta with preparations for the wedding. As soon as he saw me I could tell it was my turn to inherit the Hawkton curse."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cerisse murmured, patting her sister on the arm. "I know how he can be. At least he's stuck in Menevia...he is, isn't he?" Her brow furrowed as a worrisome thought occurred to her. "He doesn't know you'll be near the Arcane University, does he?"

Ria laughed with delight at the question. "I've no idea if he knows, but it doesn't matter." She shook her head, leaning against the railing, her back pressing into the painted wood. "After watching Lyrrya, Wynny, then you fail to drive him off, I finally decided to give it a shot."

"What did you do?" Cerisse folded her arms, unsure whether to start glaring or not.

"Well, he was following me down the street, offering his services—for free—going on about how he'd feel so much better if he knew I was safe and protected. He wouldn't accept I could look after myself, no matter how curt I was." Ria's explanation bristled with remembered annoyance.

Cerisse did glare, but only at the water as she recalled irritating memories. "I can picture it far too well."

"So I asked myself—what would Aggy do?" Ria beamed over at Agronak. "How would a warrior handle it?"

"And how does a warrior handle it?" he asked with a big grin, already amused regardless of her answer.

"I though back to what you showed me," she stood up from the railing, curling her hands into fists, adopting her version of a fearsome stance, "pictured him as a big old ball of inewen dough, then wham!" She shot a fist forward, her punch landing harmlessly against the waiting flat of Agronak's hand. "Wham, wham!" Her knuckles thwacked against his palm, hard enough to leave a mild sting. She had picked up a thing or two—good girl.

"Ria!" Cerisse was scandalized, mouth dropping open in shock. "That's awful!"

"No it's not," Ria retorted, shaking her hands out with a grimace at the discomfort. Her skills may have improved, but she hadn't yet toughened her skin up. "I warned him I could take care of myself—it's not my fault he wouldn't listen. When I last saw him, he was puffing like a slaughterfish out of water, telling me never to come near him again."

"Brilliant," Agronak murmured, echoing her brother's compliment. "I'll have to teach you a few more moves. Too bad I hadn't shown you how to kick..."

"If you're going to be demonstrating, Aggyronak," Gondyn cut in with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling, "maybe you could show me something." He slid the watermelon out from his arm, cradling it in his palms. "I'm still not sure how you handle these things. Did you mean you toss them about to work on your grip?" He bounced the watermelon into the air, green rind landing heavily in his palms with a dull thump. "Or maybe rotate it?" The watermelon began to twirl as he shifted it from one hand to the other, turning it end over end, frown on his lips as he tried to keep it from tumbling away.

"Simple," Agronak growled, snatching the spinning fruit away, the speed of his movements causing Gondyn to gape. "Let Agronak make it clear." Stepping forward, he trapped Gondyn against the railing, the man's back leaning over the ledge as he tried to keep his distance. The Breton's eyes darted to his snickering sisters as Agronak held the watermelon up by the ends, as close as he dared to the man's face. "The twisting is the key."

Loosing a snarl of exertion, he pressed his arms together with as much speed and strength he could muster, at the same time turning the ends of the watermelon in opposite directions. The fruit burst open at the force, a slush of pink, flecked with shattered bits of dark green rind, pouring over Gondyn's shirt. Agronak threw the remainders of the watermelon overboard, aiming so they passed close by Gondyn's ear.

The Breton blinked a few times, his jaw slack. His brows knit together as his mouth began to work, words attempting to form, before being lost to his amazement. Agronak wiggled his eyebrows in return as he stepped back, trying hard not to laugh—Gondyn reminded him of a fish, his lips pursed in a circle, small gwop noises resulting from every aborted attempt at speech.

Between Ria's howling laughter and Cerisse's loud snorts of mirth, Agronak couldn't help chuckling. Gondyn finally regained his wits, flush of embarrassment creeping over his face, frown on his mouth as he ran a hand over his sticky shirt, trying to push off the worst of the mess. Glaring hard, he walked away, trying valiantly to ignore the catcalls of Ria as she trailed after him, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him mercilessly for a change.

"Now, what were we talking about?" Agronak murmured, reaching for his bride, feeling very smug with his victory. He was fairly sure Gondyn would lay off the Aggyronak—at least, for a little while.

"You're a mess!" Cerisse protested, trying to dodge out of reach.

"So?" He grinned as he caught her, pulling her into a sticky embrace. "It's just a little watermelon. I though you didn't mind getting dirty."

"Dirt isn't sticky," she muttered dryly, resigning herself to his hug with a sigh. "Sticky's different."

"What's wrong with sticky?" he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

"Sticky's...well, it's sticky," she shrugged, frowning as she tried to think of how to describe it. "You know, it makes you stick to things."

"Then you shouldn't mind this." He lifted her up, tossing her over his shoulder, making her squeak with surprise. "Since you married me, you're already stuck with me."

"I guess I'm all yours then," she purred, her hands running down his back, taking advantage of her position to pinch as she pleased. "And you're mine."

"Good thing, too," he replied, wiping his free hand on her skirts, sneaking a squeeze in return. "Since neither of us know how to share." Carrying her off below decks, listening to her instructions to turn right, not left, he couldn't help grinning to himself as thought about the way his trip ended.

It didn't matter whether he was on sea, land, or safely ensconced in Crowhaven's study. So long as he had his little nymph by his side, he'd always be on an adventure.

Author's Note: Many thanks to those readers who stuck it out to the end, especially considering my update schedule suffered frequent attacks of forgetfulness. Also, I must again commend Raven Studios for patiently pointing out (over and over and over and over again) my authorial foibles. Be sure to read her stories - they're excellent!