A Drink With Bastards

I wobbled down the hallway, stumbling in my heels and ankle length dress. The fluffy skirt did nothing to help my attempts to make it to the dining hall. Men were heard laughing- drinking most likely; awaiting my arrival. I smirked, despite my predicament. If anyone beat me in a drinking game they had a stomach made of led. The corset that was strapped so tightly around my torso choked me, squishing my bust higher over the edge of my already low neckline. The bangs of my hair dangled in my face, emphasizing the flame that burned in it. Red and brown mixed together in a natural way, looking like wood and flame crackling together. Woven murals hung on the walls, telling stories of the past and expectations of the future. All of them including fire. Fire. Fire possesses so much power, so much respect; And not only when it comes to whiskey.

I finally burst through the doors, my heels clicking obnoxiously. “Well men,” I began to walk through the aisles of the tables, ignoring the lack of chatter at my appearance. “I may be a lady, but why not talk and act like a bunch of drunken motherless bastards?” The men all cheered, and I laughed full-heartedly. I sat down at a table, where four men already sat. “Hello gentlemen!”

“Hello, m’lady.” One of the heavier men said gruffly, taking another sip of whatever he was drinking.

“Oh come on now! We’re all bastards in a hall of drunkards! Call me whatever you like, and I’ll return the same courtesy.” He nodded, and I grabbed a half-full wooden cup from the hand of a passed out man. “So,” I took a long swig from the glass, not blinking. “Does anyone want to play a game?”

“What sort of game?” A young man sat next to me, putting his hand on my upper leg.

“The kind of game to see who’s best. In this case,” I grabbed a knife from the table and stabbed it into the bench, catching the man’s sleeve. “We’re talking about drinking, not fucking.” He took the knife out of his sleeve with a smile, which I returned sarcastically.

“Doesn’t matter. By the end we’ll end up doing both.”

“Oh go fuck a wench.” All the men laughed at my comment, and I took another long swig of the bitter tasting ale.

“So, this game…” One of the men continued, holding his cup with two hands in front of him.

“So this game sees who can drink the most without vomiting or passing out. Speed doesn’t have anything to do with it yet, because that gives unfair advantages.”

“I see. So, we all drink whatever we have…”

“No. If we were all chugging wine we’d be here ‘till next spring. We’ll be drinking ale, and if anyone disagrees, don’t play.”

“I hardly find that fair, considering you’re already starting.”

“Then you men better get started.” I smirked into my cup, placing it down smugly.

“Who said I was playing?” The young man asked, taking out a fancy wine goblet and filling it to the brim.

“Who said you weren’t?” I took a small last sip that banged my empty cup down. “Done with round one! Give me another!”

“I thought you said speed didn’t matter?” The fat man asked.

“Speed varies from person to person.” I said slyly. “Now someone get me some damned ale!” A woman wearing a dirty apron and worn down shoes came over with a glass pitcher. As she leaned to pour it, I dropped three silver coins into the pocket of her apron. “For your troubles.”

She nodded gratefully, and poured an exceeding amount. The men all around me filled their cups as well from the woman’s pitcher, and she quickly retreated to refill. My mouth tasted foul already, but the foul taste was so warm and welcoming, so common. It no longer bothered me.

“Round three for me!” I shouted as I was swallowing the last bit of ale, causing me to cough.

“You alright?” The young man asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Keep drinking!” As I kept drinking, it felt as if my corset was getting tighter and tighter, and my dress was getting hotter and hotter. I downed my third cup in one go, not bringing the cup away from my lips. “What number are we going to again?” I asked, my words already beginning to slur, and my mind already becoming foggy.

“You never said.” This was when I realized, I was the only one really drinking. The other men had light mead in their cups and mugs, and it was barely touched. The only one who was drinking besides me, was the young man. He had refilled his wine four times; He knew that I was watching him.

“Holy fuck.” I whispered. The rest of the hall was abandoned, leaving only the seven of us.

“Are you surprised?” He asked, throwing the wine glass at the floor. The sparkling glass shattered, leaving dangerously sharp pieces on the floor. I took a shaky breath, my chest feeling constricted. “You really shouldn’t be. Most of these men know you, they know you wouldn’t want to be called m’lady. I should have this idiot killed, but you didn’t notice, so he has another chance.” The fat man looked to the ground, ashamed of his unnoticed mistake. “So, darling girl, how do you feel about this situation?” He seemed so comfortable threatening me. It’s not like I was a really lady, or anyone truly important. I was just a rich daughter of a dead man who left the doors open for anyone.

“Why me?”

“Isn’t that what they all ask?”

“No, I know but, why me? I’m rich sure, but my riches are open to the public. If someone needs something bought, I buy it. If someone needs shelter, then they can have it. Unless you plan to rape me and have a rich child, what other purpose do you have for me?” The man looked thoughtful, taping his lightly bearded chin with his finger.

“You know, there’s an idea. Originally, I was just going to kill you and take your money, but have a child with you… That makes less people want to kill me, I get a whore, I get rich; not to mention the people love me. My son will do whatever I ask.”

“What if I don’t have a child? What if I throw it in a stream wrapped in a box? What if it’s a girl? What if it is loyal to its mother?”

“Too many ‘what if’ situations, darling.”

“I’m sorry. I suppose I should just put a knife to my own throat then?” I grew less and less confident in my chances as I sized up the men. Five middle aged men against one drunk twenty year old girl. Fuck me.

“That wouldn’t go well for you.”

“Why? I keep my honor, no one steals my riches from me, I don’t get raped by a sick pig, I think I’d win.” I raised one eyebrow awaiting his response, keeping one eye on the other men.

“Sure, but you don’t want to die yet.”

“I can make an exception.” As I said this, I picked up the knife from earlier and brought it to my neck. A flash of alarm went through his eyes, and he nodded to someone behind me. I spun around, holding the knife, to see one of the men smashing his pommel into my face. I fell to the floor, my face pounding and my nose burning. My right hand came to my face, and touched my nose. It was crooked, and dislocated, but not broken. I braced myself, clenching my teeth, and popped it back in place. A quick scream echoed through the hall, and my fingers flinched feeling the movement.

”Well, do you still enjoy that option?” He had a smirk on his face, and it suited him. He looked attractive, yet dangerous. It did him justice. I will bring justice.

“I don’t know. I’m a bit more tempted to kill you, then be killed.” I looked down to the giant dress, and the glass I landed on. A few small pieces ripped into the back of my dress, exposing my corset. The back of my right arm had a shard stuck inside of it, causing a pain so hot it felt cold.

“Do you wish to have a fair fight?” He asked mockingly, picking up my cup and looking inside, before putting it back down- disappointment on his face.

“Be honest, what part of this will truly be fair?” I grunted, trying to sit up as tall as I could.

“Good point.” Then I felt steel go through my back, and out of my chest. Everything went black.