"This is bullshit."
Dean's face was set in a heavy scowl, one he usually only reserved for the most diagusting, inhuman monsters the Winchesters hunted. Only minutes earlier, he and Sam had used some dumb spell his idiot little brother had found in one of the Men of Letters' musty, old books, and that guy-Sheogorath?-had zapped them here. Wherever here was. The whole thing had basically been a freaking shit show, the two of them duped into coming to this cold, dark, damp little dungeon.
After Sheogorath had disappeared and Dean peeled himself off the stone floor, he had spent the better part of ten minutes cursing with such ferocity even Sam seemed perturbed.
"Look, Dean," his little brother placated, "this isn't what I was expecting either, but if this is what it takes to get Mom and Jack back-"
"We had a perfectly good spell back home, Sam," Dean cut him off. He took the chair from the little table in their cell and hauled it towards the wall, standing on it on tip-toes to try and peer out through their tiny barred window. "Man, I don't even know where we are. All I'm seeing is a lot of stone. No glass in the window, either." He stretched up to wiggle his fingers through the bars. "A little warm out, actually."
"Maybe it won't be such a big deal," Sam continued. Dean glanced over his shoulder, watching as Sam headed towards the bars at the front of the cell. "We can try and catch a guard, maybe convince them there's been a..."
"What?" Dean prompted, but Sam furiously shushed him and tilted his ear towards the corridor. Quietly, Dean stepped down from his chair and beelined to stand next to his brother, ears straining to determine what it was, exactly, Sam had heard.
"...the messenger only said that they had been attacked."
"No. They're dead. I know it."
"My job right now is to get you to safety."
The voices—a woman's and a man's—were accompanied by footsteps, by flickering torchlight growing nearer around the corner. The conversation between the two continued in undertones, and for a moment Dean had half a mind to call out, to try and grab their attention. Only moments later, however, a group of people turned the corner and continued walking straight towards them. Three of them were dressed in heavy-looking metal armor, sheathed katanas hooked to their sides. An old man with long white hair walked between two of them, dressed in extravagent purple robes with a large ruby amulet hanging from his neck. They stopped short in front of the cell, the woman who had been speaking earlier eying Sam and Dean with exasperation.
"Glenroy, what are these two doing here?" she demanded, "this cell's supposed to be off-limits!"
"Unusual mix-up with the Watch," one of the two armored men suggested, and the woman let out a suffering sigh.
"Nevermind, just get that gate open."
"Uh, actually, this is a bit of a mistake," Sam piped up, but Glenroy glared outright at him.
"Both of you, over by the window," he ordered.
"Hey, look, if you need to open the door, why don't you just let us out first?" Dean tried, "we're not supposed to be in here in the first place."
"Over by the window," Glenroy repeated, "stay out of the way and you won't get hurt." Sam quietly took Deam by the shoulder and steered him back.
The guards opened the door, and first the woman entered, hand resting on the hilt of her katana. She eyed the boys deliberately as she passed them, coming to a stop at the wall to the right. For a minute she ran her hand over the stone until her fingers hooked under one, and a second later something began to rumble. Shaking violently, a portion of the wall slowly began scraping towards the side, and Sam and Dean watched attentively as a dark and gloomy passage slowly came into sight.
"No way to open this from the other side," the woman mused, then shot Dean and Sam another glance, "we'll have to leave it open. Emperor, this way." Without further explanation, she took a torch from a sconce just inside the passage and began making her way carefully through the tunnel. Glenroy followed immediately after her. The remaining guard paused to let the old man—the emperor?—through, but before he, too, could disappear down the tunnel, he stopped short, eyes trained carefully on the Winchesters as a hint of surprise took over his face.
"You... both of you...," he mused quietly, falling shortly silent. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.
"Sir," Sam started, but the old man cut him off.
"Neither of you are correct," he said, slowly reaching up to grab his amulet. "Something's wrong... and yet... something about you both feels touched by fate. Come. Walk with us for a while." He beckoned them on, then slowly began to follow Glenroy and the woman down the tunnel. The final guard motioned Sam and Dean on as well, and as the brothers awkwardly rolled with it, he offered them an amused smile.
"Looks like today is your lucky day, guys," he said, "just make sure you stay out of our way." Sam and Dean hurried to catch up with the Emperor.
"Sorry," Sam said as he came to his side, "but who are you, exactly? What's going on?"
"My name is Uriel Septim," the man replied, "and I am your emperor. Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next."
"Well, for a guy with a target on his back, you seem pretty chill with everything," Dean commented. Sam elbowed him sharply, but the Emperor merely chuckled.
"Oh, I have known this was going to happen for a while," he replied, "and I've lived a long life. I consider myself fortunate in that I am aware of how this journey will end for me. I've made peace with the situation." For a second, the woman at the front called for quiet, and the group stopped. They were silent for a minute before they regained their pace. "Might I ask what you two have done to earn your cell?"
"Well," Sam explained, "it's a bit of a strange story." The Emperor laughed.
"Oh, I'm no stranger to odd stories. This is the fourth great catastrophe I've dealt with in my life. Frankly, it's starting to become tedious."
"Well, you see..." Dean nearly reached to grab Sam's arm, to keep him from recounting the experience, but it turned out he didn't need to bother.
"Death to the tyrant!"
All of sudden, there was yelling, and the guard behind them pushed forward as all three of them drew their katanas.
"Protect the Emperor!" The third guard shouted back to them as he charged forward. That was when Dean saw them; dressed in red robes and clad in armor that seemed to have been produced by some eldritch abomination. They clashed with the guards with daggers he wasn't sure they had when his eyes landed on them, but before he could register anything property, Sam was yanking him back. Hurriedly, the brothers positioned themselves in front of Uriel and reached for their knives.
"Son of a bitch," Dean growled when his fingers met air where his blade ought to have been. That's right; in all the confusion, he'd almost forgotten, but they'd dropped their weapons when Sheogorath had forced them. They were defenseless... or as defenseless as a Winchester could be. Almost simultaneously, Sam and Dean raised their fists, and just in time. Unbeknownst to the guards, another assassin had appeared, and he was running right towards them. For a second, his hand glowed with faint energy, and then suddenly there was a knife in his grip.
"More like son of a witch," Sam grunted as he threw himself to the side and sucker-punched the assassin under his arm, where there was a gap in his armor. Dean snagged him by the back of the robes and yanked before he could go down, slamming him into the wall. Uriel, who had an ornate silver shortsword drawn, quickly stepped out of the way as the brothers turned on the assassin and simultaneously kicked out, nailing him straight in the lower back. Sam lunged to snag the knife right out of his hand, but as he tried, it disappeared; seeing an opening, Uriel himself lunged and slid his sword easily through where Sam had punched the assassin to begin with, sticking it right between his ribs. The assassin's body went limp.
"Well done," the Emperor briefly commented, then swiftly turned on his heel towards the other fight just in time to see Glenroy and the third guard finish off the last of the assassins. "Captain Renault?" he called. The third guard shook his head solemnly.
"She's dead, Sire," he announced, and knelt to pick something up off the floor. He came to them holding captain Renault's katana, and wordlessly, he offered it to the Emperor. For a second, Uriel was silent, but then shook his head.
"Let one of the prisoners carry it for now, Baurus," he ordered, "I would expect they would be more useful to us armed."
"Yes, Sire," Baurus replied. He turned to the Winchesters and held the blade to them, instead. "Either of you know how to swing a sword?"
Unfortunately, Sam saw right through Dean's usual rock-paper-scissors strategy again, and Dean did not, in fact, get the cool sword. Sam thanked Baurus as he took the katana's hilt, then turned away from everyone to safely give the blade a few practice swings. Its balance was incredible; he hooked the scabbard to his belt and sheathed it, looking quite pleased.
"What was with those daggers?" Dean asked once the group was moving again, "they just kinda seemed to appear."
"These assassins we're dealing with," Baurus answered, "they seem to be part of some Daedric cult; I wouldn't be surprised if those daggers were conjured." Sam and Dean exchanged glances.
"Conjured," Dean repeated, "as in, magic?"
"I know," Baurus agreed, "we had wards to spot this kind of activity all over the palace, but the last place we thought to worry about was the escape route."
Glenroy led them through a creaking wooden door, taking care to lock it behind them, before they turned down another long, dark passageway. It was the emperor who spoke next, in his deep, calming voice.
"Speaking of the unexpected," he began, "you boys have yet to explain how you came to be in that cell. I am quite interested to hear it."
"Wait, wait, let me guess," Baurus added good-naturedly, "did you guys steal something? The way you picked up on our warding issue like that, you guys must be master thieves, right?"
"No," Sam laughed awkwardly, "nothing really as interesting as that. Ah, you see, we were looking for a certain kind of spell..." Dean had half a mind to elbow Sam even harder, this time, but Baurus was frankly too interested in his guessing.
"Ahh, wizards then. Sorcerers, maybe? From the Mage's guild, right? You try one of those weird teleportation spells from Morrowind, get yourself stuck?"
"Baurus," Uriel chided, though his eyes betrayed his amusement, "let them speak. Glenroy, let's stop here a moment. I'm afraid these old bones can't go as far as they used to."
"Of course, Sire," Glenroy replied. The room they stopped in was relatively spacious, brighter than some of the others they'd already walked through. Uriel took a seat on a collapsed column and beckoned Sam and Dean to sit next to him. Sam took the offer, his long legs nearly bent up to his chest, but Dean hovered on his feet just nearby.
"So you see," Sam continued carefully, "we were looking for a spell to find our family. They... they're trapped somewhere very far away. And we found this old spell in a book that we thought would take us to them, but when we cast it, this guy appeared and... well... offered us help." Uriel pursed his lips and eyed Sam carefully.
"What was his name?" he prompted. Sam offered a hesitant, wry smile.
"He called himself Sheogorath."
And that was why it was probably the wrong thing to say. Dean tensed as Glenroy and Baurus whirled around to turn on them, katanas drawn with their faces twisted in snarls.
"Daedra!" Glenroy spat, "kill them! They might be working with the enemy!"
Sam quickly took to his feet next to Dean, surprised, and the brothers raised their fists once again. Before a single punch could be thrown or sword could be swung, Uriel spoke above them all with booming authority and quickly put an end to it.
"If they were working with the assassins, they would have already struck at us," he said, "the assassins are not agents of the Madgod, they are far too sane for that." There was a silence in which the two guards and the two brothers continued to stare each other down, but it was Baurus who first sheathed his weapon.
"Alright, Sire," he agreed, "I trust you." Glenroy grudginly followed suit.
"Now," Uriel continued as though nothing had happened, "I don't expect Sheogorath was kind enough to offer help out of the goodness of his heart. What did he ask for in return?"
"We're supposed to deliver someone to him," Dean finally admitted, "someone who was supposed to be in that cell, but never made it." Uriel was silent as he mulled those words over, a dark expression taking root in his gaze. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand tiredly over his face.
"The Thief," he said, "the one from my dreams. He was supposed to be in that cell. I have seen his face, but if only I knew his name..."
"Shaazah," Sam offered, "Sheogorath told us to look for someone called Shaazah." Silence fell as Uriel seemed to turn in on himself and consider the name for a long moment. Finally, he sighed once more and looked up, a small, sad smile gracing his face.
"What are your signs?" he finally asked.
"What?" Dean replied, and when Uriel repeated himself he could only squint suspiciously. What sort of bullshit was this? Was the emperor really trying to hit on him while they were stuck down here with assassins on their ass?
"Then let's try this," Uriel offered, "which month were you born?"
"January. Why does it matter?" Except now it was the Emperor's turn to look confused, and so Dean heaved a great sigh and tried to clarify himself. "January, you know? The first month?" That lit something behind Uriel's eyes.
"Ah! Morning Star," he announced, "the Ritual! Yes, I supposed that makes sense... Just the air around you... And you?" He looked to Sam, who tried to follow Dean's lead.
"May," he awkwardly replied, "the fifth month."
"Second Seed. The Shadow." It was another thing Uriel seemed to have to mull over, but he came to a conclusion soon enough. "The signs I read show the end of my path. I suppose, in some sense, I am blessed to know the hour of my passing--to face my apportioned fate, and then fall--but..." He shook his head. "If the Madgod is truly involved in this somehow... I fear the horrors that approach may have a larger impact on Cyrodiil... no, on Nirn than I could have possibly accepted."
Sam had that look on his face; he wanted to ask questions. Dean had to admit, he was curious as well. What the hell was a Cyrodiil? What the hell was a Nirn, for that matter? But before either of them could indulge their respective curiosities, Glenroy announced that they had been sitting for too long, a sentiment with which the emperor agreed. The motly troop took to their feet and began trudging along once again. The walk was a lot more somber, this time.
Dean, frankly, still wasn't sure what to make out of all this; things were happening a little too quickly for his tastes, but he supposed they had worked on much less, before. Still, he just wished things would work out for them. Sam, who was walking ahead, near Uriel, glanced back at him, and then slowly slowed to match Dean's pace.
"This is a little more than we were expecting, huh?" he said, and Dean replied by shrugging one shoulder.
"It's weird, man," he agreed, "the whole thing is weird. This is the last thing we need on our plate right now. Once we get out of here, we need to just bail and find our way home."
"I don't know, Dean," Sam said slowly, "Cyrodiil, Nirn--those weren't countries I've heard of, ever. We might be a little bit further away than we thought."
And maybe that was true, but shouldn't they at least try? Dean still wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew they had more important things to do, more important people to deal with. Sheogorath could find someone else to search for Shaazah.
"Hold up. I don't like the looks of this." The party came to a halt as Glenroy threw up one hand. He made his way forward down the corridor and a flight of stairs to a lower level before they heard him swear viciously. The four of them approached to find a locked barred gate disrupting their route. "It's locked up tight. There's no way we're getting through here."
"What about that side passage?" Baurus suggested, pointing to a corridor mouth not far from them. Glenroy agreed, but frustration and urgency quickly settled in as they tried; it was a dead end.
"We're trapped," Sam noted as Glenroy swore once again, "I saw a few doors back up the stairs."
"Let's go take a look," Baurus added, "you wanna come with Glenroy and I?" Sam agreed. Dean was about to follow the three of them as well, but a hand caught him by the sleeve of his jacket, and he turned to see Uriel eying him strangley.
"Stay with me, please," he said in a manner that was much more telling than asking, and for some reason Dean found himself bending to that authority.
"I don't expect anything to happen while we're checking it out," Baurus added, "but if it does, you're our last line of defense. Protect the Emperor with your life."
And that was that. Dean and Uriel watched as Sam and the guards headed back into the open chamber. When they were far enough away, Uriel took a seat in a decorative alcove carved into the stone with a great sigh. Again, he looked to Dean, then patted the spot next to him, and again, Dean found himself hesitantly obeying.
"I'm afraid we're closing in on the end," Uriel told him, "in all my dreams, all my visions... Every time I searched for the answers in the stars... I never see passed this point."
"You know," Dean replied slowly, "I've been in the same place before. There's always another way. Another answer."
"I've always believed as much," Uriel agreed, "but I suppose, in the end, what fate can be avoided that has been set for us by the almighty gods?"
It was a stupid way to think. Dean wanted to spit that right out; maybe this little escape journey hadn't been long, but Uriel had been moping around like it was the end of the goddamn world, and Dean sure as hell didn't want to put up with it. He wished he was next to Sam trying to find those stupid doors.
"I've been told the same exact damn thing for years," he groused, "that you have to play your role, that fate can't be avoided. That's a load of crap. Look, I know you're not in the best place right now, Uriel, but you can't just roll over and take it."
"It's not my place to. This isn't my first catastrophe, remember. But I'm old, now. Too old to be any sort of force against the agents of Oblivion."
"Oblivion--the hell is that?" Uriel chuckled and, instead of answering, reached up to undo the clasp of the great ruby pendant around his neck. Taking the necklace in one hand, he grabbed Dean's in the other and pressed the pendant firmly into his palm.
"Take this. The Amulet of Kings. Horrors unlike those seen in hundreds of years will befall Cyrodiil in the days to come, and this... The Amulet is the key to everything."
"No." Dean hastily began to press the Amulet back towards Uriel, but he wasn't taking it. He just gently placed a hand on Dean's shoulder with that sad, gentle smile of his. "No, Uriel, we're gonna get you out of here." The Emperor continued like he hadn't heard him.
"When you find the Thief, give it to him. Guide him. Tell him he must take the Amulet to Jauffre in Chorrol."
"You don't need to do this." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean realized there were shouts coming from the open chamber, the sound of metal striking metal, and briefly he worried about Sam, wanted to turn around to see what was going on, but somehow he felt stuck in place, his focus captured by the Emperor's calm gaze.
"He'll need you. I can see it in your eyes, read it in your aura. Without you, without both of you, Tamriel is doomed. Take it, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."
Dean was about to protest again. This wasn't the end. Couldn't be. But then something changed. The light left his eyes. There was blood. A dagger. Something shoved, and Dean lost his balance and he fell. He regained his senses just in time as the lifeless body of Emperor Uriel Septime VII hit the ground.
Amulet still clasped firmly in hand, Dean sprung to his feet. The assassin looked just like the ones before him, red robes, eldritch armor, and a small, bloody, conjured dagger in his hand.
"Today's not your luck day, friend," the assassin sneered, voice like a snake.
"Oh, no, bitch," Dean snarled, "today ain't yours." He ducked to the side as the assassin stabbed at him, danced around slash after slash until he was up in the assassin's zone so he could easily grab him by the arm and quickly snap the bone. The assassin cried out, the dagger shimmering as it disappeared, but Dean wasn't finished. He grabbed the assassin's head and snapped his neck, too, before letting the body fall unceremoniously to the floor.
"Dean!" Dean's eyes shot up as Sam and Baurus ran back into the dead end. They stopped short at the sight of Uriel's body.
"No," Baurus whispered, eyes wide, "we've failed... I've failed..." He dropped to his knees next to the body, and with trembling hands reached out to shut Uriel's eyes.
"Baurus, I tried, but..." Baurus quickly cut Dean off.
"The Amulet--it's not on the Emporer's body!" He took to his feet, whirling around with a wild look. "We have to get it back, if they have the Amulet--!" Dean grabbed him by the wrist.
"Uriel gave the Amulet to me," he explained. He held the Amulet up for Baurus to see, and frankly, Baurus looked exceedingly confused and surprised.
"You?" he repeated, "why? Did he say anything?"
"Only to take it to Jauffre in Chorrol."
Baurus' brow furrowed and he bit his lip. He looked from the Amulet, to the Emperor, then back to Dean and Sam. Finally, he just sighed and shrugged.
"Alright," he finally agreed, "if that's what the Emperor told you, that's what we'll do. "
"Okay," Sam said, "one thing after another, I guess. How do we get out of here, first of all?"
"I can't come with you," Baurus told them, "someone has to stay here and guard the Emperor's body. But it looks like..." He paused, then went to lean over a pile of rubble and through a hole in the wall where the assassin had come through. "Yeah, alright. This looks like it should take you through the sewers. There's some rats and goblins living down there, but," he turned around and flashed the brothers a hollow grin, "the way you two handled yourselves, the way you picked up on their magic so quickly... My final guess iiiiissssss..." He pointed to Sam, then to Dean. "Battlemage, Nightblade. Am I wrong?"
Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Sam shrugged. Sure, Dean thought, what the hell.
"You got us, Baurus," he said, and Baurus tried to laugh. Tried. He gave the two of them a key he promised would get them into the sewers, though unfortunately he demanded Sam's katana back. Sam seemed broken-hearted in relinquishing it. Still, they said their goodbyes, shook Baurus' hand and wished each other luck.
Then, leaving Baurus to stand guard in that dark, dreary place and with the Amulet of Kings securely in Dean's pocket, the Winchester brothers headed forward, unlocked the door at the end of the corridor, and descended into darkness.