I've been writing this on and off since Oblivion first came out. Of course, I've changed it dramatically and my writing skills have improved (hopefully :]), but whenever my mind drifted in this direction or I got an idea while playing, I couldn't help but pick up a pen and jot down everything that entered my mind. I'm very proud of this story since I've poured endless hours into creating scenarios and characters, and I hope you all like it! :3
Enjoy!
Disclaimer; I do not in any way, shape, or form own The Elder Scrolls, or anything affiliated thereof, nor do I make any profit by publishing this work of fan fiction. The copyright belongs solely to Bethesda Studios. I do, however, own the character Lethia Atherayn, as she is my creation.
-x-
A young Dunmer stared at the golden sunbeam that made its way through the wrought-iron bars of her cell window, deep in thought. The warm light rested softly on the azure skin of her face and sent playful rays cascading down her light coral hair, teasing her with their freedom. She closed her crimson eyes and let the warmth wash over her, trying to fight off the cold radiated by the stone floor and walls.
"What amazing defiance; to shine so brightly in such a dark place," she whispered to herself, smiling at the sunlight. A breeze blew in from the window and the Dunmer girl heard the deceptively gentle clink of the rusted shackles suspended from the ceiling as they brushed against each other. The cold stone floor was rank with the smell of rotting and mold, as were the slimy walls, green with moss and other subterranean plant growth she didn't recognize. Everything seemed to be in a terrible state of decay, even the ragged mat that lay atop a spread of hay in the small crevice to her left. The torch that sat in the sconce by the gate behind her burned dimly, casting waving shadows across the blue-green tinted stonework and transforming the dank cell into a foreboding storybook tale of anguish and despair.
There was a small table and a chair made of rotting pinewood with a clay jar filled with stagnant water atop it, as well as a small, cracked clay cup. A small pile of bones sat in the corner beside it, the off-white cartilage picked clean of all flesh by the rats that scurried across the cold stones of the Imperial City's dungeons.
The Dark Elf rubbed her wrists uncomfortably. The rusted iron clamps around them were irritating her soft skin, and had created bloody sores. Her sack cloth pants were stained with the blood and puss from when she tried to clean the open wounds, and her shirt, made from the same material, wasn't in much better condition. Running her fingers through her matted and oily hair, she grimaced at the texture of her once-silky mane. Sighing, she continued the motion, wincing every time her fingers ran through a particularly tangled clump of hair. The guards had confiscated the hairpins that held her usual twisted braid against the back of her head, but that was no reason to let her hair go unkempt. Besides, back in Mournhold, everyone remarked on how beautiful she looked with her hair down.
With a sigh, the girl let her hands fall to her lap, knowing that whatever state her hair was currently in, it was in the best she could manage. Lifting the hem of her shirt up to her breast band, she looked down at her slim form, slimmer than usual due to the lack of proper nutrition. She had been imprisoned for almost two full months, and all she got a day was a jug of stagnant water and a weevil-infested loaf of stale bread. If she was lucky, the prison cook, pitying the half-starved Elf, would sneak in a small morsel of moldy cheese or a rotting apple.
The Dunmer ran a finger down her side, feeling each one of her protruding ribs as the pad of her finger ran along it. She counted each one, wincing every time she got to the fourth and fifth ones. She remembered snapping them when she was thrown against the stone floor of the cell she was in, and receiving a swift kick to her injured side when she asked for a sip of healing potion. The guard came to torment her every day at the exact same time, like he was on some sick, twisted schedule. She preferred to ignore him, choosing instead to remain silent and impassive, and after he grew bored of mocking a stone wall, he would turn on Valen Dreth, her prison mate across the hallway. If anything, the man was much crueler to Valen than he was to Lethia, since he knew he could get a rise out of the old mer. It was cruel and unnecessary, and Lethia doubted that the issue was anything less than racial. Whenever a drunkard or a thief from the races of men was incarcerated, the guard was decidedly kinder towards them than he was to any of the mer or beast races. That miserable excuse for a man... If she could only get her hands on him...
The young girl mentally scolded herself for such negative thoughts and concentrated instead upon the warmth of the sun. Despite his cruelty, the guard was naught more than a man, a creature with faults just as she was. Suddenly, a deep voice behind her started to speak, breaking her from her thoughts.
"I must surely be dead, and in the halls of Azura to look upon such a vision. You are so beautiful, my dear Dunmer maiden." She turned sharply and saw, through two sets of bars, a middle-aged Dark Elven man smiling softly back at her.
"One of the guards owes me a favor, you know. I could get us put in the same cell. Would you like that?" He asked, cocking his head. It was some wonder that the mer had not noticed Lethia before; Lethia already knew more about the older Dunmer than she cared to. Instead of responding immediately, Lethia chose to further study the mer, as he had entered the small bit of light shed by the torch outside his cell. He was handsome and well-built, despite his incarceration. His hair was more brushed silver than grey or white, and his eyes were the color of freshly spilled blood. His skin was an ash-blue, a stark contrast to Lethia's light completion. Despite the slight wrinkles upon his face, he was quite handsome.
"You should have some fun before the end," he said, not giving the younger mer time to respond. She blinked in astonishment.
"E-excuse me?" She managed, thinking she had heard wrong.
"Yeah, you heard me," he grinned, his light auburn eyes narrowing in malicious glee. "No matter what the law says, no matter what they told you, you're going to die in here! You're going to die!" The young girl's crimson eyes narrowed to thin slits as she glared at the odious Elf. Choosing to ignore his mindless prattle, she turned back to the welcoming warmth of the sun and resumed her previous position in the small patch of light. Valen Dreth was obviously just as intelligent as she first judged; which wasn't very much. Her sharp ears picked up the sound of metal hitting the stone in a rhythmic pattern, just before the loathsome Elf piped up from his cell across the pathway.
"You hear that? They're coming. For you!" With that, the Elf fell into a bout of fiendish laughter as he retreated to the back of his cell.
"Baurus, lock that door behind us," a female voice commanded, which was shortly followed by a "yessir" and a click.
"My sons... They're dead, aren't they?" An old, gravely voice asked, submission in his tone.
"We don't know that, sire," the female voice consoled. "The messenger only said they were attacked."
"No, they're dead," the other voice replied. "I know it."
"My job right now is to get you to safety," the female voice said sharply. "Why is there a prisoner in here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits!" The Dunmer in question turned around and saw five people standing at the entrance to her cell, one of which was a very irritated-looking female Imperial in the most peculiar armor, flanked by a similarly-dressed Redguard and a Nord, an elderly man in expensive robes, and the prison guard, whom the Dunmer shot a glare at, pleased when she saw him shrink under her gaze.
"A usual mix-up with the watch," the guard stuttered as he turned his attention back to the Imperial, obviously flustered by the female's presence. "I-"
"No matter," the Imperial woman snapped. "Get that door open! Stay back, prisoner; we won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way!" The young Elf promptly moved to the back of the cell, pressing her back to the wall furthest from the commotion. As the strange posse flooded through the prison gate, she eyed it hungrily, a million different escape routes running through her head.
"Stay put," commanded the male called Baurus, almost as if reading her thoughts.
"Any sign of pursuit?" The female Imperial asked, shifting her feet and keeping her hand near her sheathed katana.
"No ma'am," came the other man's curt reply.
"Good," the Imperial nodded. "Let's go; we're not out of this yet."
The elderly man, his wispy white hair floating around his head, suddenly stopped moving and stared at the young girl as if in a trance. "You... I've seen you. Let me see your face." He gently elbowed himself through his followers and stood before her, gazing deeply into her eyes.
"You're the one from my dreams," he muttered, half to himself. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day." His voice wavered a bit at the end, but with more conviction, he stood a little taller and said, "Gods give me strength."
-x-
The young Dunmer flopped down, completely exhausted. She leaned back against the cold, mildewed stone and closed her eyes.
"By the Nine, what has this world come to?" She chuckled, listening to the quiet echoes of her voice. "Only a few weeks ago, I was in the great city of Mournhold, going through the motions of daily life, and now, I'm a prisoner in an underground escape route waiting for the Emperor and his guardians to return. Things have greatly changed since I was in Cyrodiil last."
The irritated Dark Elf sat cross-legged and cursed Barrus and Glenroy, the mysterious Blades that had been accompanying the Emperor, for leaving her amidst the corpses of Mythic Dawn assassins and the other Blade named Renault. Because of her incarceration, none of the strange group but the Emperor trusted her, and as such, she was left behind. The only crimes she had committed in her life were the liberation of one moldy chunk of cheese thrown atop the waste pile outside a guard house, insubordination of a Redoran guard who ordered her to bed with him, and illegal immigration; hardly enough to condemn her to a life-sentence.
Pouting slightly, the young Elf crossed her arms. She had papers at the border to prove she was a legitimate citizen of Morrowind who wanted to immigrate to Cyrodiil to study at the Arcane University, but the guard shredded the papers and attempted to ravage her, failing miserably and receiving a dagger to the thigh. The young mer hadn't wounded him fatally, but he would definitely be crippled for life. Nevertheless, he screamed for backup about an illegal immigrant and the Dunmer was promptly thrown into the Imperial city prison. The girl sighed in frustration over the unfortunate turn of events, rolling her cramped shoulder and shifting slightly.
Suddenly, the wall she was leaning against gave way, the mortar too rotted to hold fast any longer. Amid the echoes of the crumbling stone, she heard the sound of a sewage rat sifting through the wreckage. Springing up, the girl's hand tightened around the Akaviri katana she had temporarily commandeered from the fallen Blade.
A furry black shadow flew at her with a squeak, and in one fluid movement, the Dark Elf caved in its ribcage with the flat end of her blade, killing it instantly. As she knelt to examine the carcass, the Dunmer remembered where the rat had come from and directed her attention to where the crumbling stone wall had caved in. Peering into the inky darkness, her keen eyes adjusted and led her gaze to a wooden door, more than pleased with this new discovery.
-x-
The afternoon sun glared down at the coral-haired Dark Elf as she stumbled out of the sewer grate, shielding her sensitive eyes from the intense rays. The light reflected off the surface of the lake in front of her, almost blinding her with its radiance. Sitting heavily on the edge of the mossy cobblestone entrance, she sighed and flopped onto her back. Fumbling around in the pocket of her recently-acquired iron greaves, she withdrew the brilliant red gem necklace she had tucked in her pocket for safe-keeping. The emperor of the entire province had just been assassinated, but not before entrusting the fate of the entire world in the hands of a young Dark Elven girl.
"How ironic," she laughed, slipping the gem back in its hiding place. "To think that just an hour ago, I was being taunted in prison, and now I'm on a quest given to me by the emperor himself to find his heir. Oh, how the tides have turned."
-x-
Brother Jauffre pretended to study the book before him, his calm facade believable only to those that did not know him well. His sharp mind was running wild, contemplating the current chaotic state of Cyrodiil, and perhaps the whole of Tamriel.
The Emperor's sons Geldall, Enman and Ebel had fallen to the blades of Mythic Dawn assassins, leaving Uriel Septim VII, a fragile, elderly man aged at eighty-seven, to defend the Empire. Jauffre let out a tired sigh.
"Gods preserve us." His tentative prayer was shortly followed by Prior Maborel's quiet voice.
"Excuse me, Brother," Jauffre lifted his gaze to Maborel's, "there's a Dark Elf to see you." With that, the Prior stepped aside and the Dunmer in question game into the old monk's view. She looked young, and she would be beautiful if she wasn't covered in dirt and grime from the road. Her coral-colored hair was twisted into somewhat of a braid and held in place by four long hairpins, and she wore a rusted iron cuirass that looked a dozen sizes too large for her.
"I'm Brother Jauffre," the old monk sighed, not wanting to hear another tale of woe from a tired adventurer. "What do you want?"
"Good afternoon, Brother," the Dark Elf greeted, leaning into a small bow. "I apologize for interrupting your studies, but I do believe what I have to say is of the utmost importance. My name is Lethia Atherayn of Mournhold."
-x-
I do apologize for the weird breaks, but you've all played the game, you all know what happens in the sewers; NOTHING. Well, it does introduce the main plot/quest line, but that's IT. I didn't want to write all that out when it's already been resolved.
Anyway, I hope you liked it! And many thanks to harmoniedusoir for pretty much being my beta for this chapter :) your help is greatly appreciated.
