Prologue

It felt like the walls were closing in on me. Or the bars of my cage were getting closer. No matter what Shout or spell I used, I couldn't change my fate in this moment. Trapped, up in the air; was this my end? Of me, of my life? Was it my destiny to die here in this place? This couldn't be my time; there was still so much to do, places to go that I hadn't seen. I refused to give up; somehow, some way, I would free myself of this prison.

"What do you mean none of you can find her? You're supposed to be the best damn trackers in Skyrim, and I want her back here now!" Ulfric screamed, throwing a glass across the room.

Vilkas and Farkas both growled at the jarl. "We have looked everywhere. There has to be magic covering her trail or her scent; we are at a loss. We need some magical aid to find her." Vilkas swallowed harshly; he hated admitting to Ulfric that they needed help.

"What about the witch? Or the tailor? Have either of them said anything yet?" Ulfric asked.

"Your prisoners have been tortured so badly that they will be lucky to ever speak again; in addition to her mental and physical multitude of wounds, they managed to break her jaw and most of her fingers. She won't be saying anything for a while. Seems to me they broke her jaw to keep her from screaming."

Ulfric snarled, "Yes, well, they have been dealt with." He pointed out a window at the stockade, where the two guards were being punished. He turned to Aela, who stood next to the brothers. "Seek out the alchemist. See if he can fix the elf enough to talk or write."

Aela bowed curtly then slipped silently from the room.

"You do realize that if you had just let her marry me, this never would have happened."

Vilkas snorted. "Doubtful. She would probably be dead instead, leaving all of us to mourn her. Being in your company causes her nothing but harm."

Ulfric clenched his fist angrily, then threw a right hook into Vilkas's face. He went down hard. Vilkas looked up at Ulfric with hatred in his eyes, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His brother growled at the jarl, his eyes fading to black. "Don't even think about it, mutt; you shift and everyone will know who and what you really are. My guards will kill you in seconds. Besides, this is between me and your brother."

Farkas clenched his jaw and stayed silent, fighting the boil in his blood to shift and rip the jarl apart. But Ulfric was right: this was between Vilkas and Ulfric. He had stepped out of the running for Arianna months ago, even though he thought of nothing but her every day, with every breath he took.

Vilkas did not stand for being hit and tackled Ulfric to the floor, pummeling his fists into the ribs of the jarl. Ulfric elbowed Vilkas in the face, bloodying his nose. Fists beat into flesh, the sound of it echoing in the empty hall. No one dared step between the two for fear of Ulfric's wrath. This fight had been building for so long that it had only been a matter of time before it happened. They grappled on the floor until Aela returned with the alchemist Quintus. Farkas spotted the two entering the room and cursed, running to separate them.

"Good thing he sent me to retrieve you; looks like he needs your aid as well as the prisoner." Aela drawled. Quintus and she watched as Farkas managed to separate the jarl and his brother, getting a black eye in the process. Aela shook her head in disapproval of the whole thing. Men could be so stupid sometimes.

Was I suffocating? Or had it just become increasingly hard to breathe? My stomach muscles tightened and I struggled against the bars of my prison. I had never felt this overwhelming panic before. I had always been strong or had quick fingers with a spell or a lock pick to get me out of these situations before. It was as if whoever put me in here knew what I was capable of and spelled everything against it. The bars of my prison were imbued with runes of antimagic as well. There would be no escaping the easy way. I let out a string of curses, angry at my situation, pissed about my fear, and enraged at everyone and everything that had lead me to this situation.

Damn Ulfric.

Damn Farkas.

Damn Vilkas. Damn it, Vilkas, where were you?

A part of me wanted to beat the oblivion out of them all once I was free; the other part of me wondered if I ever would see any of them again.

How had all this come to pass? It had only been days ago since Vilkas had returned home from his hunt of Slovak. We had planned to capture the witch next. Had we found her? Was it she who had sent me to this prison? Suddenly tired, I lay down on the floor of my cell and tried to keep my eyes open.

By the nine I wouldn't stay here. This was no place to die, no way to die. Yet I was so tired; would it be so wrong to rest, just for a little while?