He woke with a start. He had heard something. Seeing nothing but stone walls from his prone position, he sat up. The other end of the small room was not stone. It was iron bars. A prison cell.

Oh yeah. That's right.

The Imperial guards had come and put an end to the brawl he'd started last night. It was over something silly... he couldn't even remember what. He'd been drunk of course, evidenced by the headache he was now sporting. But he barely felt it. He'd learned to deal with the pain of hangovers, just as he'd learned to deal with the pain of being orphaned.

That sudden thought brought back a wealth of painful memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Sitting on the edge of the cot, he held his throbbing head in his hands. He remembered, with relief, that something had woke him and he concentrated on that. The focus helped him forget his unpleasant memories. He looked around at the cell. There was no one here. No rats. And it hadn't been the wind jingling the chains on the wall – no breeze found its way into these dark quarters. So what was it?

He had heard something, right?

Probably just the dumb fetcher across the hall. The dark elf had taunted him when he'd first arrived and seemed to really get a kick out of it. It had a familiar feel, though... he was certain that Dunmer had been here the last time he was thrown in prison.

He was always getting thrown in prison. He'd get drunk, pick a fight, and then get hauled away to the slammer where he'd stay for a few days until they'd finally let him go, with a promise that he wouldn't do it again.

He was practically on a first name basis with the Imperial Prison guards... if they'd tell him their names. Which they didn't.

He sighed, stood and went to the door. There were no guards in sight and the rude Dunmer in the other cell was pacing, muttering to himself.

Great. Other than the muttering Dunmer, he was alone. Borrrrring! He preferred when there were guards. There was a woman in particular that he liked to harass. He hoped she'd be the next on duty.

"Finally awake I see, eh, Imperial?"

Crap. The Dunmer had finally noticed him.

"Well, it's about time," the Dunmer continued. "All that snoring was starting to give me a headache!"

He knew the Dunmer was lying. He didn't snore.

"Although, I'm sure my headache is nothing compared to what you must be feeling right now. Oh, yes! Last night when the guards dragged you in, you were so sodden with mead that just the smell of you was making me tipsy! But I'm sure the guards will relieve you of your pain – when they remove your head!"

His head jerked up and he glared at the Dunmer. What in Oblivion was the mer talking about?

"That's right. You're going to die, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarrassment. Best if you just... disappeared."

Then it came back to him. Oh gods...

He remembered. It was vague, like trying to recall a dream even as it faded. But he remembered the fight. The guard. And the blood on his hands.

The headache slammed into him full force then and he felt he might throw up. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold iron bars, grabbing them to keep himself from toppling over. He had been thrown in prison so many times before and always been released within a few days. Not this time.

This time he was here to stay.

Or maybe he would be put to death like the mer said. Either way, he deserved it. A fitting punishment for someone who... did what he did.

The Dunmer, either apathetic to or ignorant of his internal turmoil, continued to heckle him. "Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming... for you! He he he he he he!"

With another glare thrown at the Dunmer, he strained to hear whatever the mer heard. Someone was coming. Multiple someones it sounded like. The voices sounded... concerned. One, he knew, did not belong to any of the guards. It was a rich voice, full of authority, with the ability to be soft and soothing or razor sharp. The voice of one in charge.

His curiosity piqued, he strained harder to make out the words that were being spoken.

"No, they're dead. I know it."

Then a woman's voice, heavily accented. Most likely a Breton. "My job right now is to get you to safety."

"I know this place... the prison?" The authoritative voice again.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Beneath the Legion Compound. We're headed for a secret passage known only to the Blades. No one can follow us through here."

Shock registered on both his face and the Breton's as she stopped in front of his cell. She blinked in confusion, then became immediately upset.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits," she said, clearly irritated.

"Usual mix-up of the Watch, I..." a male Imperial stuttered.

"Nevermind," the woman cut him off. "Get that gate open. Stand back, prisoner! We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Wow. He wasn't thrilled about being executed for his crime, but being struck down because he refused to move aside for these people seemed like a shameful and terribly embarrassing ending.

The Imperial man wasted no time in giving him a command even though he was already stepping back. "You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window. Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt."

As if they really had to tell him twice. Besides, he was too interested in what was going on to get himself killed now. He did as they commanded and placed himself near the wall directly under the window.

The guard unlocked the cell door and marched into his cell with the Breton, an old man, and another Blade, a Redguard man, close on his heels.

"Stay put, prisoner."

He grimaced. The word 'prisoner' had never before held such weight. The Breton woman was talking again and he turned his attention to her.

"...not out of this yet," she was saying. She marched through his cell with confidence, a warrior who was very sure of herself and her abilities. And certainly not afraid of the man cowering in the corner. Cowering? Was he? Just in case that's what it looked like he was doing, he straightened up. Now his posture was perfectly rigid. He was certain he looked nervous now. But then why shouldn't he look nervous? He was in prison, likely scheduled for execution, and a group of Imperial guards were tromping through his cell – an event he felt he should not be witnessing.

He didn't have long to think about it, though, before the elderly man, decadently dressed, stopped in front of him. Surprise flashed briefly in the old man's eyes and faded just as quickly as he addressed him.

"You... I've seen you. Let me see your face..."

The man came within an arm's reach of him and if he thought he might have looked nervous before, now he knew he really looked nervous; shifting his weight and fidgeting.

"You are the one from my dreams..."

Uhm, okay, yeah, really weird and... disturbing.

"Then the stars were right and this is the day. Gods give me strength!"

Not feeling that he had any right to question this man of authority, but desperately wanting answers, he chanced the question anyway.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Assassins attacked my sons and I am next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell," the man answered. There seemed to be an air of trust about the man. Why he would trust a prisoner with this information made no sense. Maybe he was going senile...

The next question flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Who are you?" The answer was obvious and he berated himself inwardly for his stupidity.

But that old extravagant man answered him without a hint of ridicule; a shocking response for a noble.

"I am your Emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel and you, too, shall serve her in your own way." The emperor smiled at him. He felt that should have given him at least a small degree of hope, but it made him unexplainably uncomfortable instead. His head was starting to spin again.

"I go my own way," he told the Emperor, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his forehead. Swaying on his feet, he wondered if he might actually pass out.

"So do we all," the emperor said. "But what path can be avoided whose end is fixed by the almighty gods?"

"Wait!" he cried out as the emperor turned to leave.

The emperor complied, turning to look back at him with a grandfatherly gaze, full of patience despite the hurry he and his guards seemed to be in.

The brilliant question he was going to ask vanished under the old man's gaze. Instead, he heard himself ask the stupidest question he could've asked the emperor. Aside from the 'who are you' question, of course. Which he'd already asked. He was beginning to feel this day could be going better.

"Why am I in jail?"

"Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done... it does not matter." With a quirk of a smile the emperor continued. "That is not what you will be remembered for."

With that the Emperor and his guards disappeared into a tunnel in the wall.

Wait a minute! he thought. A tunnel? When had that happened?! He decided his mind was much foggier than usual. After all, how could he have missed a secret tunnel opening up right next to him if he wasn't? He rubbed a hand over his face while he thought about the emperor's words. 'That is not what you will be remembered for.' What did he mean by that? He was beginning to think the old man had finally cracked. Emperor Uriel Septim was supposed to be a very sharp and wise man, but it seemed his last words may have been based on pure insanity.

As he thought, he stared at the hole in the wall. The hole... In the wall. Mighty Stendarr! He could escape! Did he deserve to be in this cell? Most certainly. Did he want to stay in this cell? Absolutely not. He baulked for a moment, pondering whether or not this might be a trick that the fates had laid before him. It seemed too good to be true. He did not usually get this kind of luck.

Whatever. He was going for it. He rushed at the tunnel only to stop short as a mean idea popped into his head. With a wicked little smile he stalked back to the cell door.

"Hey! Mer!" he called out to the cell across from him. "Looks like I'll be keeping my head for a while longer! Don't worry; I'll write to let you know what it's like out in the free world."

Grinning wildly, he dashed back to the tunnel under a constant rain of curses and threats from the Dunmer. He ignored them all. They were pretty meaningless to him since he figured the mer wasn't going to get out.

He careened down the tunnel, lost his balance and slammed into the wall. Maybe he should slow down. It wasn't like he had somewhere to be. He wasn't even sure he could go home once he got out. Soon enough the guards would notice he was gone and they would be watching his apartment. They may have already gone to his place to empty it of all his belongings. Freeing it up for another tenant. It was possible that all this fuss with the emperor and his sons might have the Guard busy for awhile and that they might not bother with him at all. But he wouldn't count on it. He decided he would worry about all that later. Right now he needed to pay attention to where he was going. He didn't feel the pain in his head that he knew was still there – he had managed to push the pain back again – but he also knew he wasn't thinking as clearly as he should.

"Okay," he breathed to himself, "slow down, stay upright." He panted, leaning against the wall. Putting his hand over his racing heart, he frowned. He'd barely run at all... why did he feel so winded? It was very unlike him. Although, he decided, he usually didn't run from anything. But he was a fighter and used to exerting himself. Deciding not to worry about it right then, he pushed away from the wall and continued down the tunnel.