"I must surely be dead, and in the halls of Azura to look upon such a vision," the vile Valen Dreth cooed at her from the cell opposite.
She made no response to him in movement or voice. Her back faced him as she sat cross legged on the floor of her cell, breathing rhythmically, meditatin. She stared fixedly at the light streaming through the cell's small window, blinded by the brightness but unable to face the dark. Meditation was her most common pastime during her imprisonment. There was little else to do other than mark time, which she had no desire to do. She would count the walls, the bars, the straw poking form her mattress each day, how many rats lived with her, the stones lining her imprisonment, but not the days. It had been some time she knew, as the days were becoming longer and she had more time to stare into the bright oblivion. It didn't matter, she would die here anyway.
She hadn't murdered anyone—no one had been arrested for anyway—or done any serious crime to deserve her imprisonment. Or had she? She didn't know, they hadn't told her when she was arrested, and she had learned nothing since. The lack of knowledge didn't torture her; she knew she deserved this punishment either way.
And so she meditated, trying to clear her mind of guilt and fear, trying not to question what had led to her arrest, trying not to question her life in general. Today was easier than most. Valen Dreth was poison masquerading as a Dunmer, but he was also unimaginative. Whatever base insults he was spouting today, she could be sure she had heard it already.
"You are so beautiful, my dear Dunmer maiden…" he said, practically licking his lips. He didn't know how to make her angry, not like M'raaj-Dar who could always get under her skin—
She opened her eyes and heard Valen say, "One of the guards owes me a favor, you know." She clenched her teeth so he couldn't see her react to him, she would not give him that satisfaction. But her pride meant she could not wipe the tears flowing quietly from her eyes. He couldn't make her angry but he could make her remember.
"I could get us put in the same cell. Would you like that?"
She didn't want him, she wanted M'raaj-Dar, she wanted Antoinetta Marie, Gogran gro-Bolmog, Ocheeva, Vicente Valtieri….She sipped her breath so Dreth couldn't hear her crying. Her nose was already clotted with phlegm. She hated crying, she hated losing control of herself. But then again, she had been in control when she looked Antoinetta Marie in the face as she died.
She bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood.
Lost in her pain, she was only dimly aware that Dreth was shouting, "You're going to die in here, you're going to die!"
She could kill him any time she wanted to. They hadn't known she was a caster when they had arrested her, and had taken no precautions. Two lock pick spells and she could grind his vocal chords into the bones of his neck with her thumbs, or burn him alive, or drown him as he watched her enjoying the sweet free air. Or she could draw it out, over the weeks and months as she waited to die.
She did not want him, she wanted her family. But there was only one place she could find them now. And so, she waited.