A/N:Read and Review please! This is just a little snippet of a much greater story. I may or may not continue it but have fun reading it anyway.
Disclaimer: All rights go to Bethesda
The stink of recycled air and the dark of the stone were beginning to get to Ondolemar. This was no life for a Thalmor Justiciar. The absence of sun and fresh air, coupled with his endless pacing to watch for heretics, and you got a living hell for the high elf. The days were long and tedious, spent making his rounds and drinking. Not like a Nord who'd completely drown himself in the barbaric drink of his people, no, simply a mug here and there to offer a bit of comfort in his dreary existence. Little did he know that the arrival of another of his kind was about to change everything.
Just as Ondolemar was completing his 40th march of the day, a clamour below, caught his attention. A figure in hooded black robes was currently arguing with Calcemo. Or rather, he was arguing and she was silently watching him. After a few minutes or so, the old man sighed and handed her a large purse of gold. She inclined her head and turned to head up the steps to the Jarl's throne. As she passed, he managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of a golden eye.
Ondolemar pretended to continue his march, when really he was just trying to figure out who this woman was. He paused in the doorway that lead up to the throne to listen. A strong, melodious voice reached his ears.
"Here is your shield, my Jarl." She presented a large iron shield, which the Jarl's housecarl accepted on his behalf.
"It is good to know there are some people out there who can still get a job done. I told you I would make you my thane and I will keep my promise. But I would like to see who you are, beneath the hood of your garment. As you know, High Elves are not very trusted in Markarth, especially one of your arcane expertise."
"In other words, you just want to see what I look like?" came the slightly haughty reply. "So be it." The woman let her robes drop to the floor, revealing herself to all. She was indeed a high elf with light golden skin and long hair of the palest gold that she had swept back out of her face. Her body was phenomenal. She was extremely curvy with a toned belly, a bust larger than normal for her kind and smooth legs that seemed to go on forever, one of which was on full display by her dress that covered very little and looked to be crafted entirely from snowflakes, that reflected the firelight and gave off the impression that she was glittering.
"Does this form please you, my jarl?" She asked.
"Um, yes! It does. Talk to my steward to purchase a house and here is the blade of
Mar-"
"Keep it. You will need it, but I will not. My magic will more than suffice." She dipped
her head and turned to leave, passing a dumbstruck high elf on the way. She winked at one of his soldiers, causing Ondolemar to frown and stiffen in almost jealousy that she had not noticed him. He quickly stepped forward and addressed her.
"Pardon me, do you know of any heretics in the city?"
"Do I appear as though I do?" she asked, arching a sculpted eyebrow.
"Have you?"
"Yes."
"Good, who are they?"
"Forgive me, but I must be going, Justiciar." She peeked around him and winked at his female escort, making him swell with fury.
"You will answer me or-"
"Or what?" she asked.
"Or I will haul your ass to prison!"
"What are your names?" She asked his soldiers. "Never mind. Just know that if you desire real adventure and a break from your insufferable companion, call me. Your metal would be appreciated."
"Who do you think you are?" Ondolemar roared.
"I think I am Casara, the Dragonborn, Thane of Markarth, Whiterun and Winterhold, the Arch mage of the college and destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood. Who are you?"
The Justiciar paled, but tried to regain his composure. "I am-"
"Pause. I don't care." She looked at his companions. "My offer still stands. If you so wish to join, head to Solitude, Katla's farm to be exact. You, Justiciar are not invited. You show up, you will die." She smiled. "Farewell."
A speechless Ondolemar watched the sparkling high elf depart, her hips swaying seductively before turning to look at his companions. "You know the penalty for treason. Don't even think about it." They bowed stiffly and stood at attention. The trio resumed their march, Ondolemar's head filled thoughts with of the strange high elf who dared to try and turn his subordinates before his very eyes and had the nerve to stop him in the middle of his sentence! It was a good thing he'd quelled any stirrings of rebellion, or so he thought, for when he awoke the next morning, his soldiers and his money were gone.