Okay so... Shouldn't do it. I'm trying on these other stories. I really am. Kinda. Well my progress is kinda stopped because I need to get my chapters back from my mom's. So I decided until then, I shall write this story in the mean time. Really I'm going to keep on track. Or as good a track as I can keep on. Sorry guys I just got things to do from time to time. But you all get it. So without further ado I give you this story because the thought makes me happy! Oh and before I forget, I know that this story has a lot of opporitunity for slash, it's not. Don't get me wrong, gay sex is pretty hot, but I can't write it very well. So don't think, "Oh hey she's a homophobe because she doesn't like slash!" It's not true. So once again and REALLY this time, Without further ado, I give you the story... or the disclaimers... Which ever comes first (Monty Python Voices "GET ON WITH IT!") RIGHT! MOVING ON...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the character's in this story. I can't even say I own my hero in Oblivion because... Well he belongs to the game! Sneaky buggers! Oh well. And if I owned Alistair... Well you know how he said he could never lead? They get lost, people die, and the next thing he knows he's stranded somewhere without any pants... Yeah I'd be the one to have something to do with that. No details please.

Cellmates:

"Oh look an Imperial in the Imperial Prison," Valen Dreth, a Dunmer in the cells longer than the man across for him, taunted. "I guess they don't play favorites, huh?"

Instead of recieving a look of worry, or sadness, the man in the cell across the Dunmer stayed cool as a cucumber. In fact, at the thought of playing favorites, he smirked. 'Oh those elves,' he thought chuckling inwardly. 'Dumb as a post.'

"Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash," he continued. The opposite man still smirking without fear as he leaned against the wall. "How sad. I bet the guards give you 'special' treatment before the end." That had earned him what he wanted. The opposite man's smirked dropped, quickly replaced by one of puzzlement. The end? "Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarassment. Best if you just... disappeared." The creaking of the doors opening left both men looking in the same general direction. "Hey you hear that? The guards are coming... for you! He he he he he."

His victim just smirked again. "Everyones goes sometime," his dark, rich voice sent unnoticed shivers down Valen's spine. The man before him stood tall and proud, should he be executed, his brother's would know that he did not compromise the Dark Brotherhood, and surely he would reach Sithis' favor. If only to have known that a man gave his life to keep silence. After all, dead men tell no tales.

"... I'm telling you Ludwig," explained one of the guardsmen. The man opposite of Valen could see they were dragging something. Or someone. "This man just fell out of no where! It's like he just dropped in from the sky! It's a bad Omen! A sign from the Nine that if we don't change our evil ways, we too will drop from the sky!"

The second guard, Ludwig, stopped in his tracks and stared at his partner dumbfoundedly. "That doesn't even make any sense you useless git!" He jerked the man they were dragging, recieving a moan in return. "Now it's obvious this man got into a fight, and someone is dead by all the blood on him and his weapons. We sent for a doctor, but they said he wasn't bleeding. Now tell me James, what could that possibly mean?"

James looked thoughtful for a second. Two seconds, then three. The watchful man sighed. "It means he may have killed someone," he answered for the dumb looking guard. 'And I got caught by that,' it made him sigh. 'Perhaps I gave myself too much credit.'

"Heh heh heh," Ludwig chuckled. "Look at that James, the prisoner is a smart one after all. In that case, I'll tell you what, I'm feeling friendly today-"

"I don't need you to be my friend that badly," he warned.

"I'll give you a new cellmate," he jerked the man again. He didn't even respond this time.

"Now," the man folded his arms. "What if he didn't kill any one? What if he was innocent?"

"We can't take any chances," firmly spoke James. "What with the Emperor's sons being assassinated and all." Ludwig jabbed his partner harshly on the ribs. The smirked quickly changed into a full dark grin, assassinated?

"Stand back prisoner," warned Ludwig. "We'll kill you if you try to make a move." The man held up his arms in mock intimidation. But, as he was told, he stepped back towards the window as they opened the cell. Three very possible scenario's came before his eyes as he watched them step in a little closer to drop their newest prisoner in the cell. One, he could try and move quickly, disarm one of the guards and break out but leaving a posibility that he could make a wrong move. Two, he could make a run for it, but that one seemed a lot more complicated than the first as he ran without a weapon. Three, he could simply sit back and watch them leave, waiting for another opporitunity. Option three sounded the best, he cracked his fingers and stretched, but made no move to escape.

They kept their eyes on the conscious prisoner as they carefully locked the bars seperating the men from freedom. Finally, the Dark Brother's eyes looked up at the sky thoughtfully. The heirs of Cyrodil, all of them killed. What could that possibly mean? He wondered thoughtfully before another painful groan took him from his thoughts. He looked down at the man fighting hard with whatever was in his mind. A man of average build and short reddish blonde hair. He layed face down and so the Dark Brother couldn't make out his face and he didn't know if a man who killed the Emperor's son was trustworthy enough to get within arm's reach. Instead, he stayed back and observed before turning his attention to the Dunmer across the hall.

"As I've said," he softly growled. "Everyone goes sometime." Valen didn't seem to care for what the man in front of him said. The thought that the heirs of the Septim dynasty were dead left him wondering who was so powerful that they could kill three heirs? Was it the man laying on the floor who was found covered in blood? The timing was perfect, the chance was small, but if a man that skilled could kill three heirs, plus the bodyguards, he could just as easily kill both of the men in their cells. 'Too easily,' Valen thought as he backed against the wall. The opposite man smiled again. "Afraid to die?" Valen ignored him and sat on the floor. Trying to make himself as small as possible.

The moaning man on the floor finally attempted to open his eyes as they fluttered. A large hand that had been sprawled out on the hard, cold floor reached up to grab the side of his head. "Ugh Maker's breath," he moaned. "Shale if you're going to crush my head could you just do it and get it over with?" His left eye opened to reveal that he was not, in fact, where he thought he should be. Both hazel eyes shot open and he forced himself up, though it was quite apparent that he wished he hadn't. His eyes closed for a breif second before he opened them once more. Realizing this wasn't just a bad dream, he reached behind him for his sword to find that it had gone missing. As did his armor, which was replaced by a thin material and sandals instead of his boots. His sheild was missing causing the man to gasp loudly. "Where-," he noticed a man looking down at him with a raised eyebrow. A taller man with shoulder length brown hair and black eyes. Or at least they looked black, he couldn't tell within the darkened cell. He was dressed the same as himself, with the thin clothing and sandals.

"Easy," the man held up a hand to calm him. "You're in the Imperial City Prison." He knelt to get a closer look at the man. "You must have never left Anvil I take it."

"Where?" Said the man curiosly. Had the Dark Brother not known any better, he would have thought the man was a child with his soft voice and round face.

"Kvatch?"

He shook his head still unsure of what the Dark Brother was talking about.

"Bravil?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Cheydinhal?"

"Never been there."

"By the Nine man," the Dark Brother threw his hands up in the air defeated. "Where are you from?"

"Ferelden," answered the newest prisoner. "Oh Maker! How did I get here now?" 'See this is why I told Melinda I cannot lead! I'm lost, someone is probably dead, and I don't know where the pants I originally had have gone off to,' he yelled in his head.

"Ferelden?" He scratched the back of his head. "I'm not familiar with that place, where is it?"

The newest prisoner furrowed his eyebrows, trying his hardest to figure that out. "Well past the mountains in the Northwestern region is Orlais just past the Waking Sea. To the east is the Aramathine Ocean, to the north is the actual Aramathine. Oh and Highever, that's north as well."

The taller man's eyes widened. "I have no idea of any of the places that you just mentioned."

"I suppose I could be more specific and say Denerim. That's where I live."

"What is your name," the dark man asked.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." The newest prisoner said cautiously. He'd watched his friend take this approach, it seemed to be the safest.

"I asked you first!"

"Oh well since you asked me first I suppose I have to act like a five year old and tell you!"

The Dark Brother growled but finally rolled his eyes and gave in. "Very well," he sighed. "My name is Johnathon. Not John, Johnathon."

"Last name?"

"Not important."

"Oh I see. Well it's good to meet you Johnathon Not Important." The man gave a quick smirk. "I'm Alistair Theirin." He was cautious on giving his last name. If the wrong person had recognized the King of Ferelden, he could have been in a lot of trouble.

"Ha ha ha," mocked Johnathon in false laughter. "Johnathon Not Important. You should try the telling the people your jokes, we could always use another village fool."

"You seem to be doing well enough without me," Alistair frowned. "I thought one ass was enough!"

"Well you were wrong!"

They were interrupted from their arguement when the doors had opened once again. "Baurus! Lock that door behind us!" Said a commanding female voice. It almost reminded Alistair of Melinda the way she lead the party with a tone that left no arguement. Her tone sounded strong and though Alistair didn't quite pick up on it, Johnathon noticed the panick she tried to leave out.

"Yessir," Baurus, whoever he was, answered without question.

"My sons... they're dead aren't they?" Johnathon quickly recognized that voice. It was Emperor Uriel Septim. What was he doing in the dungeon?

"We don't know that, Sire. The messenger only said they were attacked." The female, which Johnathon could not pinpoint answered.

"No they're dead," said the Emperor sorrowfully. "I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety." She persisted. The Emperor and three bodyguards, The Blades, if Johnathon's memory served him right arrived before his and Alistair's cell. The woman leading the party looked rather annoyed as she noticed the two men staring back at her. "What are these prisoner's doing in here? This cell is suppose to be off-limits!"

"Usual mix up with the watch," said another Blade looking rather sheepish. "I..."

"Never mind," she cut him off. "Get that gate open." She looked to the two men with a hardened expression. "Stand back prisoners, we wont hesistate to kill you if you get in our way." Alistair and Johnathon backed as far as they could go by the window once more.

"No sign of pursuit sir," the last Blade informed.

"Stay put prisoners," the once sheepish looking Blade had warned the two men. He had regained his posture and looked intimidating once more.

"Good. Let's go," said the leading lady. "We're not out of this yet."

They stopped before a wall in the cell, both men watched them curiously, wondering what was so important about this cell which surely lead to nowhere. The Emperor stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes caught Alistair's. "You...," He said as though he was surprised to see the younger man. "I've seen you..." Alistair furrowed his eyebrows once again. He could hardly see the Emperor in the dark, and so he wondered how he could have possibly seen each other. The Emperor took a step past his bodyguards so that he was only a few feet away from Alistair who took a step back out of the moonlight pouring in through the tiny window. "Let me see your face..." He ordered. It wasn't a harsh order, but firm. Alistair looked to his cellmate who shrugged. He took the tiniest step forward into the light. With a nod the Emperor confirmed, "You are the one from my dreams..."

Johnathon behind them, bit back a small laugh. Now was not the appropriate time to make a joke.

"Then the stars are right," continued the Emperor. "And this is the day. Gods give me strength." He said towards the heavens. Every time the Emperor spoke, it seemed to have left Alistair more confused than he was when he had arrived.

"What's going on," asked Johnathon. The question was suppose to be directed to the Blades.

"Assassins attacked my sons," explained the Emperor. Johnathon had to give the old man credit on how calmly he was taking everything. "And I'm next." His hand gestured to the Blades behind him. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell." Alistair and Johnathon looked around puzzled. Where in the world would they have an escaped route? Could they walk through walls?

"Why am I in jail," Alistair finally spoke up.

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you in here so that we may meet," Answered the Emperor as wisely as he could. "As for what you have done... It does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for."

"Right," Alistair folded his arms. "Well they could have just said please. I wouldn't have minded just walking in." As for what he would be remembered for, Alistair couldn't help but wonder what that was suppose to mean. He figured being a king would have helped him with that. Not that he particularly wanted to be remembered as the 'Bastard King' but there were worse titles, he figured.

"Who are you," Alistair continued to question. Johnathon looked at him like he had just grown another head. Did he really not know Emperor Uriel Septim? What rock did he just crawl from out of?

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim." He didn't seem to mind that the man had no idea who he was. "By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler." Alistair went back into his memory to figure out where Tamriel was, but drew up a blank when nothing emerged. "You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too shall serve her in your own way." Citizen of Tamriel? Since when?

"What should I do," asked Alistair. He wasn't used to trying to figure these kinds of things out for himself. That's what Melinda and Duncan and just about everyone else did for him.

"You will find your own path," answer the Emperor. It was just the answer Alistair wasn't looking for. If he had said, take these treaties and go build an army, Alistair found he was quite good at that. But to let him out into the open by himself, Alistair just hoped if anything happened, his pants would stay on. "Take care... There will be blood and death before the end."

"Please Sire we must keep moving," The female leader touched the Emperor's arm and lead him towards a wall. Johnathon still wondered how they were going to exit through a wall. It was just wall wasn't it?

"Sounds like another Blight," mumbled Alistair though the Emperor payed no attention. "Great."

She touched a stone and the large stones sank into the ground. Johnathon's eyes were wide as he wondered how he could have missed that. The bricks that once formed a wall opened like a door and lead the Emperor out of the cell and into the tunnels. "Better not close this one," Johnathon's ears perked up at this. "There's no way to open it from the other side." It was his chance to return to the Sanctuary. He knew it was a good idea to stay put and not attack the guards and now it payed off.

Johnathon waited for the party to leave with a certain bubbly feeling in his stomach. The sweet, sweet taste of freedom. Either luck favored him, or the Blades were much more stupid than he had originally thought.

"Where are you going?" Alistair asked.

Johnathon's eyes caught the man behind him. "Out of here."

"What if they catch you?"

"Look," Johnathon said impatiently. "You can stay in this cell to rot for all I care. But I'm not going to. Now I don't know what's in these tunnels and, cannot believe I'm saying this, but could probably use your help. Are you coming or not?"

'If I had a sovereign for everytime I had to break out of a prison for something I didn't do...,' he thought with a shake of his head. "Yeah wait for me." He sighed following his newest leader.

(A/N: Well that's the first chapter for now. Not really sure how I feel about it, but I want your opinion and I'll try to keep up with it. Also, I'm not really sure if I'm going to use any of the side quests, unless any one has a request (i.e. vampires, finding people, fighters guild) just let me know and I'll try to work it in. Also, if this one goes over well I've already got my ideas on the sequel which is going to be Shivering Isles, so don't request that one I'm already putting the ideas together. Okay so that's it and you know the drill. Read, review, and remember: I love you)