I manage to suck out the clot and spit it out is disgust, the mercenary's blood is revolting. Beer, sweat, and fear taint the taste of the blood flowing into my mouth. I wipe my mouth with a clean rag, pour a healing potion into the wound, and sew her flesh back together. Her pelt gets in the way of my feeding and sewing, but I manage to push it aside. After I'm done dealing with the clot I sew up a few more wounds, then run my hands down her arms and legs. Her arms are free of clots, but her left leg has a large clot near her ankle. I instantly set to work. A major vein is in her leg, she could die if the clot gets lose and gets stuck again in that vein.

I lean down and tear the flesh open, feeding until the clot is out. I spit the hunk of blood out and notice something, the woman's blood is thinning. I quickly pour a healing potion in her wound, sew her up, and rush down to the dungeons. The prisoners moan when I enter with a bucket in my hand. I pass by each one, sniffing and tasting their blood. I come upon a wood elf who taste just like the khajiit, so his blood won't poison her. I've only done this process three times before, and only one of them lived. I slit the elf's throat and collect the blood in a bucket, resisting the temptation to feed. After it's full I shove a cloth in the dead man's neck and run back upstairs.

The woman appears still so I quickly jam my fingers into her pulse point, sighing in relief when her vein weakly pushes against my force. I hold the bucket in both hands and take a large sip, but don't swallow. I force the liquid to the back of my mouth, lean down, and bite the woman's neck. She moans in pain, but doesn't fight. I force the liquid out of my mouth with force, some of it entering the mercenary's neck. Most of it splatters the khajiit, me, and the floor, but that small amount of blood that does enter her may just save her life. I repeat the process until the blood's gone, then rush back to the prisoners. People give me strange looks due to the blood, but I ignore them.

I eventually run out of prisoners, but by then the woman's blood is back to normal. I sew her neck together and pour some healing potions into her mouth, along with some painkilling potions. The woman should regain consciousness in a few hours, so I go about cleaning. My dress is ruined, the woman's armor is stacked in the corner, and every inch of my floor is now red. I sigh and start cleaning, but stop when Falk comes in. "Yes?". I ask as I wring blood from my rug. "The queen wishes to see the mercenary's armor, is that it?". He asks as he walks over and picks up the armor. When I nod he rushes off with it. All I can do is shake my head as I clean.


Elisif POV:

The armor is mismatched, but I suppose that's normal for a mercenary. She apparently shed her hide armor for metal, but it's not much better. Her leggings are steel, her breastplate iron, her left boot is orchish while her right is dwarven, her right gauntlet is steel plate while her left is daedric, and her helmet is ebony. Her armor is rusted, chipped, and has dents and tears. But the most disturbing item is her helm. It's still black as night, but has a slight dent near the right temple. It's forged in the shape of a snarling wolfish demon, but it has gigantic ram horns. One horn is broken and a few teeth are knocked out, but it still looks fearsome.

The eyes burn red with hatred, and there are small slits so the mercenary can see. The remaining fangs have rust on the tips so it looks as if the demon has just eaten the heart of its enemy. The face resembles a monkey besides the snout. I flip the mask around and see the ears are pinned to the back of the skull, like the demon is angry and snarling from the pits of oblivion. Rust spots the helm here and there, like spots of blood welling on the monster's hide. I'm not sure why she would wear such a demonic helm, but I quickly put the helm on the table. I look at the armor and ask Falk, "Should we repair her armor? She did stop Potema. It's the least we can do.".

Falk looks skeptical as he tells me, "In a few hours she might not need that armor. If she dies, then the repairs would be pointless. And the battle she's currently fighting can't be won with sword and shield.". I see the wisdom in his words, but tell him, "Go ahead and repair it, I won't have the savior of Solitude strutting around in dented armor.". Falk sighs, but takes the armor away for repairs. I sigh and ruffle my hair, but jump when Sybille grabs my shoulder. "The khajiit is waking up and Tullius is running around snarling about some head.". I rise at once and rush out of the room, heading towards the room where the wounded khajiit is.

I'm shocked to see Tullius in the room already, a headsman's axe in his hand. The khajiit is awake, although she looks like she doesn't have the slightest idea what's going on. Tullius sees me and says, "I need to take this prisoner out for execution, when will she be fit to walk?". I nearly stop breathing in surprise and ask him, "Prisoner?". Tullius nods and tells me, "She was a captive at Helgen, but escaped. Now I intend to finish the job.". I furrow my brow and ask him, "What crime did she commit?". Tullius groans and tells me, "Her crimes are numerous, it might take a while to tell you all of them.". When I nod he starts.

"As you know, mercenary armies sprout up like wild. A particularly nasty company make up of purely Argonians and Khajiits prowls High Rock, always willing to help any Breton gain political power if they have the coin to pay. The company was originally only Khajiits, but when their numbers dwindled they accepted Argonians. The army doesn't have a name, but some men call them The Beasts. They have sixteen leaders, each of them are a different subspecies of khajiit. Excluding the Mane, of course. Your friend here is a Cathay-raht, and a leader of The Beast. Her army joined the Stormcloaks, but for some reason she's here. And, about to die.".

The khajiit smiles and says, "That's not a good idea.". Tullius snarls, "Be quiet, prisoner!". I put my hand on the general's shoulder to calm him and ask, "Why wouldn't that be a good idea?". The khajiit pushes herself up and says, "Ulfric Stormcloak is known to hate anybody who isn't a nord, but we still joined him. It was all well in good. The pay was good, he never demanded too much of us, and he let us run wild when we wanted. But then we wanted to enter the city. Not the whole army, just us leaders. We had never seen Ulfric before and wanted to see the man that filled our purses. But the first thing he said to us was, 'Get out of my city.'".

"Well we didn't want to and tried to explain who we were, but he had his guards throw us out. Do you know what a Alfig Khajiit is? They're as tiny as a house cat, but smart enough to understand human speech and they can cast spells better than a Altmer. But they're still tiny, and one of our leaders happened to be a Alfig. He landed on his head and snapped his neck. We took his body and showed it to the guards, we thought they would allow us in after seeing what they'd done. Instead the guard took the body and threw it in the river. We searched for hours, but couldn't find the corpse. The Alfigs with us were in a rage, and so was everyone else.".

"Half of us wanted to attack Windhelm, but we didn't have the numbers. It wasn't because the Alfig died, it was because of the dishonor Ulfric did to us. When we realized we didn't have the numbers to attack we raided a few villages, but the Stormcloaks ran us off. We thought about going back to Elsweyr, but we still wanted Ulfric dead. We kept thinking about what to do, and then it came to us. Why not join the Legion? We change coats all the time, this would be no different. I'm the most reasonable of The Beasts, so they sent me ahead to talk to you. I thought clearing out Wolfskull Cave would be a good start. Well, my queen? Would you like to talk about terms?".

Tullius looks about ready to chop her head off, so I step forward and say, "If you can, follow me.". The mercenary heaves herself up and follows me as I walk to my room. As we walk I swallow back my fear, half afraid she'll be an assassin. But as we walk I grow calmer. The sound of the woman's heavy steps a soothing lull as we walk, the castle a sleeping dragon surrounding us.