Chapter 16

In the end, the wedding was a much less private affair than she’d expected. No longer a Concubine of the Mane, there was no need for secrecy. In fact, the little chapel had filled to overflowing with the Mane and all the other concubines in attendance, not to mention the security detail. The diminutive Priest of Mara looked fairly overwhelmed by the “little quiet ceremony” that he’d originally been asked to oversee.

Outside the chapel, she stood nervously with Quill-Weave, while she heard some traditional Khajiit songs being sung within, and she knew the moment was fast approaching.

“Oh Quill, I don’t know how to be a mate! I think I might have jumped into this too soon.”

“Do you love him? Yes? Ra’Jirra, he’s proven his love for you enough in the last few days. These are just pre-matrimonial jitters. It happens to everyone.”

Ra’Jirra looked down at her dress. She wasn’t sure it really should have been such a dazzling white, given her not-exactly-virginal past, but she had to admit it was gorgeous. There were some advantages of being a personal friend of the Mane that she couldn’t deny.

“I suppose you’re right - but it’s different when it’s, you know… me.”

“You’ll be fine. And don’t forget what I said about… you know. Trust me, it is the most efficacious position for fertility. You’ll be knocked up before you know it!”

“Er… yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

“Always worked for me. Feels pretty good too, I might add!”

“Quill!? You’re a mother?” Ra’Jirra asked, astonished.

“Why certainly! You don’t get Hist glands like this without some serious usage! You can come and meet my brood when you get back to Archon.”

“I’ll do that…” Ra’Jirra started, when she heard the wedding march begin. She corrected herself, “...I mean. We’ll do that. I think it’s time.”

“Alright. Go ahead sisters, we’ll be right behind you,” the Histess said, and her two sisters entered the chapel ahead of them.

Ra’Jirra gulped hard, breathed in deeply and exhaled. She looked up into the eyes of the Histess for reassurance. The calm reptilian face kissed hers. And then they walked in together, Khajiit and Argonian.

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It was late afternoon when the ship sailed out of Torval. All had gone exceptionally well, all things considered. Ms. Ponsonby’s tears had been a bit unexpected, but Ra’Jirra had been pleased that Queue hadn’t felt too slighted that she had taken Quill-Weave as her Maid of Honor instead. If Ra’Jirra had been required to catch Dar’Amon when he nearly fainted at the altar, well - worse things had been known to happen at weddings.

And now, at long last, they were alone in private.

“So, how does it feel to be a married woman?” Dar’Amon asked as he stowed their luggage.

“Actually, pretty good,” she replied, trying to get the flowers out of her hair. “So where are you taking me, my husband?”

“Oh, you’ll find out in the morning… or, maybe early afternoon. I don’t plan to sleep a lot tonight.”

She laughed and hugged him. “Nor I, stud! Now, can you help me out of this damned dress?”

“I thought you’d never ask! Gods! How the hell does this thing open?”

10 minutes later, he’d finally figured it out and she stepped out of the gown. Dar’Amon was much faster in removing her undergarments, pausing only as he kissed certain parts. As for himself, he was appropriately attired for their honeymoon in seconds.

“So, Khajiitmother - ready to get started on your future clan?”

“I see you certainly are! Quill-Weave suggested we, er… well… like this…” she said as she positioned herself appropriately on the bed.

“Oh gods! Yes!” Dar’ Amon squeaked, and their honeymoon began in earnest while the ship rocked gently across the ocean outside.

Hours later, exhausted and spent, she considered if she should crawl out from under her husband who had fallen asleep. But he felt good and she thought about her future. The Hist were still there, in the back of her mind, but quiet and dormant - as if knowing when not to intrude. So she stayed there a while, before finally sliding out from under Dar’Amon and padding quietly across the floor to don the flimsy concession to modesty that her nightgown afforded. Then she walked out to the deserted deck. Some sailors were, of course, still awake, and perhaps some might have eyed her appraisingly, but they left her in peace.

She walked to the rail and looked at the moon over the waves behind the ship. The breeze was warm though, and felt good as it dried her overworked body. Wherever they were heading, at least it was warm.

She turned around and looked up at the sails and the crow’s nest, far overhead, and thought of Ropes. Far above, she saw an Argonian sailor looking down at her. The sailor looked a lot like her dead friend, she realized. As if on queue, the sailor began singing a bawdy song, the words sometimes lost to the sea breeze and the distance to the crow’s nest, but she chuckled at the punchline and sang along quietly to the ribald chorus as she returned her focus to the sea behind her.

Finally she returned quietly to her love-nest. She awoke Dar’Amon and they continued the night’s festivities before she finally slept herself, dreaming of her new life in Argonia with her amorous lover. It would, she decided, be glorious.

Though it was late morning, they did manage to rise before noon.

“Oh! Dar! I feel like I’ve been riding a horse for days!” she exclaimed when she stood up from the bed. “What did you do to me last night?”

“Only everything!” he laughed, then groaned when he stood too.

“Yeah, you too huh?”

“I… might have sprained something,” he said.

“I hope nothing too serious, we’ve got a lot more of that to do for the next month!”

Dar’Amon grinned. “I’ll survive,” he said, and they dressed hastily.

And then she opened the cabin door. She knew instantly where she was. The smell of Rihad was like nothing else in the world.

“I found a couple of friends of yours!” Dar’Amon said happily while her mouth still gaped. “They told me how much you loved this city! Look, they’re waiting for us on the dock.”

Below she saw Inspector Trudal and her former lover, Ko’Manir waving to them.

“This is going to be a very, very interesting honeymoon,” she thought, but smiled broadly and stepped down the gangway into the stinking hellhole of Rihad.

The End.