She entered the barracks in a fast pace. She was dressed in dark brown leather, with her hair a soft red, and her skin color resembling that of wet sand on a stormy beach. Her posture made her look strong and menacing, especially with one dark hand grasping her sheathed sword and the other balled into a fist. "Bring him in." She barked, her dark voice cold and raspy. Two guards, both dressed in silver and yellow armor and wearing helmets to conceal their faces, roughly dragged in a young man wearing nothing but rags. Earlier he had been kicking and screaming to get away, but after being severely outnumbered, he let his body go limp in defeat. His clothes were bloody and battered, and the guard's hands were clutched so tightly around him that it was obvious they would leave bruises.
"Put him there." She pointed to a rotten chair, and the guards quietly obeyed. They flung him into the seat as if he were just a piece of trash, and he let out a groan from the pain. One of the guards then grabbed a piece of rope, tying the prisoner's hands behind him. He felt locked in place.
There he sat for what felt like forever. He didn't dare look up at the lady Dunmer, and instead chose to look down at his lap. The sweat from his forehead dripped helplessly onto his pants.
"Leave us. You are not to enter unless I knock."
Slowly he tilted his head to the side and watched the guards strut out of the building. What he would give to be any of them. The door immediately locked behind them.
Then there came a grunt from the Dunmer. She had leaned up against a brown pillar that held the stone wall together, and folded her arms under her breast. The man felt a sudden surge of courage that dared him to look up at her. But her carmine eyes quickly pierced his spirit, and he averted them in order to stare at a cup resting on a table.
"You will tell me everything." She demanded finally. The question seemed obvious to her.
He swallowed, "I don't know anything." The Dunmer let out a growl.
"Do not play stupid." She spat, removing her arched back from the wall. Slowly she stepped toward him, getting closer with every word. "You will tell me why the Stormcloaks were right outside our door step. You will tell me why you led them here. And most importantly-" she was menacing now, leaning over him, her back curved down sharply and her words echoing hard into the man's ear, "- you will tell me why you helped us slay them."
He was sweating more than he had been. This must have felt quite amusing to her.
"I will tell you nothing." He mumbled. "You're just a measly dark elf."
Swack! The back of her fist had found it's way straight across his face. He clenched his teeth to hold back a swear.
"Watch your tongue." She warned, walking around to his back. "I think you'll find that I am not as forgiving as the guards here. And I am growing impatient."
The man grew another spout of bravery when she moved away. He looked up at her when she walked to his front. His dark blue eyes could have spouted fire, but the Dunmer met them with her own violent gaze.
"You will tell me everything." She repeated.
"I didn't know they were Stormcloaks."
"Little elf, you are pushing your luck."
The young man grunted. "I am only half elf."
"Oh, forgive me." She rolled her eyes. It was obvious what he was. Another half-bred Nord denying his elven heritage. Typical. Nords were known for such racism.
"So then, little mutt," She grew a vicious smirk when he narrowed his eyes at her, and raised her tone. "How is it that you are in Skyrim but don't recognize a Stormcloak when you see one?"
"They paid me." He leaned back in his chair. "I don't ask questions when coin is involved."
She growled. "So you're a mercenary."
"I did't say that."
"Then what are you?" Her tone began to hint impatience.
"I'm Rorek." His smile grew when she let out another growl. "And you are Irileth right? Now what is a Housecarl doing interrogating a prisoner?"
"I will be the one answering questions here!" she boomed, lifting her leg high and thrusting it right into the center of Rorek's chest. Before he could even react he was pulled backwards, his chair giving way. He let out a yelp when his head smacked on the cold hard ground. The guards outside could be heard giggling like children.
A severe pain could now be felt from his hands, which were now being entangled and mushed under the weight of his body. Irileth leaned over him once more. Her voice was quite low now, and Rorek could have sworn that she was hissing as she spoke. "You will show me some respect, boy. I am not to be toyed with."
He turned his head away from her and tightly shut his eyes. Irileth stood back up, quite pleased with herself. It had been a while since Jarl Balgruuf had assigned her any sort of fun. And she always enjoyed the defiant ones. She was also quite positive that this half-elf was hiding something. He was one not to be trusted.
"I will be back." She announced, clicking her heels and walking toward the door. She banged on the front door and at once the door clicked open. The guards couldn't wait to enter. Once she had left, several guards scrambled into the room and shut the door behind them.
They all began to chuckle to themselves. Hearing Irileth work must have really riled them up. Rorek opened his eyes when he heard them, and he swallowed hard. This was going to be quite a long night for Rorek.