"A bow? Really, in this space?" Ondolemar asked, crossing his arms. I licked the sweat from my upper lip, knees trembling as I kept my conjured bow taught and trained on him. I steeled my spine, keeping a sure grip on the glowing lavender arrow. He stepped closer and I matched him, stepping back until my elbow grazed the dewy stone of the Understone Keep walls. A smile flickered over his lips, his eyes glittering in the dark of his hood.

"Don't thieves usually use small deadly blades, not big cumbersome bows?" he pressed, moving to block the exit from his chamber. I glanced around the room, a bead of sweat crawling down the curve of my spine. I was trapped, a Justiciar wizard blocking my only exit. "Not so cumbersome I can't stick an arrow through your heart," I warned, meeting his golden green eyes.

"A thief, an archer, and a mage. Tell me, what could someone so cultured be looking for in my bedchambers?" he sneered. I pressed my lips together, my arms beginning to tremble from the effort of keeping the arrow drawn. There wasn't a choice in the matter. We either fought in this cramped space or I played along until I found a way out of this. All I needed was a moment to slip through his fingers and I could get out. My first mistake was forecasting my choice in my eyes, my second was letting the arrowhead lower just a fraction, and it was all he needed.

His elven mace knocked the bow from my hands, splitting into the skin of my knuckles. I cried out and tried to move back, to gain enough room to conjure a dagger, but my shoulders met stone all too quickly. The Justiciar dropped his mace, clattering metal ringing through the room, before slamming his arm against my throat, pinning me to the wall. I gagged, blinking back tears as I focused on my spell, but froze as lightning crackled just a finger's breadth from my nose. Ondolemar bared his teeth in a feral smile, our faces lit in the vile light of his magic. Reluctantly I let the magic dissipate from my palms, attempting to hide the fear knotting my stomach with a glare at the high elf.

"One more time, Sosile, what were you looking for?" he questioned, eyes lit with pent up energy. The Justiciar spent his days pacing the great halls of the Understone Keep, his hands clasped behind his back as he forced himself to let his guards deal with any heretics. The Justiciar had been craving any reason to rip someone apart, the incessant boredom and repetition of his life driving him to near madness. He pressed his arm into me, soft creaks of cartilage sending small shots of pain darting through my neck. I gulped past my suddenly dry throat, trying to scrabble back as the Justiciar seemed to teeter ever closer to the brink of burning me alive.

"Food," I wheezed, trying and failing to keep the tremble from my lips, "I'm so hungry," I croaked. His lip pulled back, exposing sharp white teeth as he viciously searched my eyes. The pressure on my throat increased for a moment before suddenly releasing, sending me to my knees where I coughed miserably. "You expect me to believe you broke into a Thalmor Justiciar's private quarters for something as common as food."

"Look at me, Ondolemar," I gestured at my loose clothes and gaunt face. The way my bones seemed to nearly break through the skin, the dark pressed in shadows around my eyes. I was closer to falling dead from hunger than by his magic. The elf looked me over, a growl ripping from his chest as he flexed his fists.

"Did you get lost in this miserable Keep? The kitchen is in the direct opposite direction," he stood over me, frowning. The snapping purple and white disappeared from his fingers, giving me only a small comfort.

"So is the Jarl's room. After the cook got killed by the Dark Brotherhood there hasn't been less than ten guards choking that end of the Keep," I snapped, voice sore and rasping. The Altmer snorted as he crossed the room, scooping up his mace and holstering it to his hip before taking a seat at a small table. He sat with his knees wide, resting his cheek against his knuckles as he leaned on the hard stone Dwemer furniture. I remained seated, rubbing at the red friction marks blossoming over my skin and pulsing a weak healing spell over split knuckles. I glanced at the door. Ondolemar was seated as far from it as I. He chuckled when I slumped my shoulders, kneading my sore muscles and staring haughtily at the floor.

"Smart girl. Now come over here," he waved his hand towards the chair opposite him. When I didn't move he brought a ball of fire into his palm, clawing his gloved black fingers over the molten flame. I threw up my hands and climbed to my feet using the aid of the wall, my legs trembling with the effort of lifting my emaciated form, before crossing the room and plopping down in the offered seat. We faced each other, my hands gripping the frayed edge of my cloak, while he crossed his arms over the stone.

"Tell me, Sosile, what has brought about your current state of near death?" he asked conversationally, pouring himself some Cyrodilic brandy. We hadn't seen each other since I'd taken care of Nimhe and helped him out with incriminating Ogmund nearly a year ago. Then I'd been healthier, firm with lithe muscles and sporting soft skin that wasn't held taught over my bones.

"The short end of things? Attacked by bandits and stripped of all my possessions. Then Falmer attacked the bandits and took some of us down into their caves," I rubbed my face with both hands, callouses scraping my dry skin. "Took a few weeks but I got out. This was the closest city; I should've just broken into that abandoned house instead of coming here. I wasn't thinking straight." My shoulders slumped as I slapped my thighs, blinking up at the Justiciar. The atmosphere was decidedly less deadly with the elf nearly slouching against the table. The monotony of his daily routine perhaps made my appearance an interesting waste of time. For the moment.

"I imagine that would have trimmed down on those enormous thighs of yours," he said offhand, making me roll my eyes. I had never had fat thighs. "Here," he pushed a bowl of apples and plate of bread and cheese towards me. My back stiffened and my dry mouth felt the smallest bit wetter. I looked between the food and the elf, itching to eat something besides chaurus chitin for the first time in what could have been an entire season. Ondolemar flapped a gloved hand at the dishes and I didn't waste time, ripping into a loaf of bread and in the same mouthful crunching a bite of sweet apple flesh.

I feasted with both eyes trained on the Justiciar, mopping trickling apple juice from my chin away with the back of my hand as I stuffed more cheese and bread past my lips. No one, especially not a Thalmor Justiciar, would feed me and not expect something in return. He grimaced openly at my manners, leaning away and resting his hands on his legs as I continued to messily tear into the meal.

"Are you going to turn me in?" I asked, looking around for something to drink. He pushed a bottle of jazbay grape juice at me and I uncorked it with my teeth, greedily guzzling the tart sugary drink. Ondolemar leaned on the table, resting his chin in his hand.

"Take it as my thanks for your help with incriminating Ogmund," he stated. If I weren't so focused on not choking I would have called him out, knowing that he was going to hang this incident over my head if the opportunity ever arose. Ondolemar wasn't the worst mer I'd ever encountered, in fact he'd been rather pleasant for a supposed racial supremacist, but he wasn't a good mer by any measure. When I gulped down the last of the juice I didn't waste a moment getting to my feet and nearly running for the door. A hand shot out to grab me but I dove into a forward roll, bursting through the doors and charging for the exit. Behind me angry shouts rang out, the hiss of his guards unsheathing their glass swords accompanying the bellows. I launched over piles of rubble, my full stomach proving a hindrance but not so much that I couldn't lose the Thalmor guards in the dark and chaotic architecture of Markarth.