A/N - I was supposed to get this done earlier, but I didn't. :( I'm sorry. I also rushed a bit at the ending.
Ailkaro - Oh, thank you! It's always nice hearing that I've gotten better in my writing. And I have no intentions of making like a magician and disappearing again, trust me. Too many plot bunnies popped up for me to ignore.
I do not own Oblivion in any way.
Rosemonde had to be dreaming. That was the only possible explanation she could think of. She was escaping from a prison she had willingly put herself in via a secrets passageway in said prison, alongside a killer, the Emperor of Tamriel, and a trio of Blades. There was no way, no possible way any on this could be happening.
And yet it was.
She followed the others down deeper into the ruins, her heartbeat gaining speed. She hadn't known there had been an entire ruin under the city. Was it a remnant of the great Ayleid cities, raised thousands of years before she was born? That seemed to be the case; the White Gold tower was built by the Aldmer, and it made sense that these ruins would be, too. They even looked similar to some of the ruins she had explored back in her youth, before she joined the Guild. Before... She shook her head clear of any welcome thoughts. Where she was didn't matter. What mattered was what was going on.
The Emperor, fleeing from assassins. The Blades, who kept shooting suspicious looks at her like she was about to attack. Ivar, the strange fair-haired Bosmer who had cheerfully admitted to killing a man.
Why couldn't it be a dream? Why did it have to be real?
Captain Renault's shocked cry cut through Rosemonde's thoughts. "Ambush!"
The other Blades barely had time to pull out their swords and move into a defensive position around the Emperor before the assassins attacked, jumping down from a ledge that led into the darkness of the ruins. Their red-and black armor was unfamiliar, but the very sight of it still sent a chill down Rosemonde's spine. The Blades were holding them off, but barely. The captain was especially in bad condition. Damn it!
Rosemonde wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't any good in a fight, at least not without her magic. And even then, she was a mystic. She couldn't rain fire upon the assassins. She couldn't freeze them solid with a thought. Not that either would do much good. With the rusty enchanted cuffs on her, she wouldn't be able to cast anything.
Ivar, meanwhile, wasted no time panicking. As one of the assassins charged towards the group, brandishing a bloodstained dagger, the Bosmer nimbly dodged out of the way, ducking under the assassin's outstretched arm and behind them. He grabbed the assassin and in one swift move, snapped his neck.
Rosemonde blinked. He hadn't been kidding before. He was a killer. Not that she had doubted him before, mind.
"Oi, Rose!" Ivar cried out. "Behind you!"
Ignoring the irritation that bubbled up at the unwelcome nickname, Rosemonde whirled around to see another assassin, swinging a large mace at her. She barely had time to dodge out of the way. Damn! That mace looked like it could crush her skull, easily.
As the assassin whirled around, getting ready to attack again, an idea flitted through Rosemonde's mind. It was a mad idea, yes, but it just might work. She gritted her teeth and, making a wild guess, kicked the assassin in the groin.
The assassin dropped his weapon doubled over, howling in pain. Thank Stendarr for fifty-fifty chances. She didn't hesitate, quickly grabbing the mace. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, before bashing the pommel of the mace against the left cuff. The cuff cracked easily, cutting through the enchantment like a knife through an apple. Pain shot through her wrist and up her arm, followed by an uncomfortable numbness. She let out an involuntary cry of pain, dropping the weapon. As she did, something stirred inside her. Her magicka, no longer bound by the magic of the cuffs, flowed through her veins, wild and free and begging to be let out.
The assassin had gotten to his feet. Rosemonde immediately concentrated her magicka, her fingers tingling with energy. As the assassin lunged at her, she hit him with the strongest wave of telekinetic energy she could muster, throwing him into the nearest wall. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor. His armor melted away, revealing an Altmer in rich red robes. The mace at Rosemonde's feet melted away, too.
It took Rosemonde a moment to realize what she had just done. She gasped and stumbled backwards, eyes wide. No. No no no no no no...
She didn't even notice that the fight had been won until Ivar placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her up. "You all right?" he asked.
"I... I killed him."
"Yes, you did. Nice use of magic, by the way. I've never seen a mage use a telekinesis spell for anything more than flipping shingles." He smirked. "That a specialty of yours?"
She stared at him, aghast. She had just killed a man, and here he was asking about her magic? Was he insane?
No, she reminded herself. He's a killer. Of course he'd be so nonchalant about all of this. Shooting him a filthy look, Rosemonde turned her attention to the Emperor, who look largely untouched. "Are you all right, Sire?" she asked.
The Emperor nodded. "Yes, I am fine," he said, looking a little distracted. He looked over at the two Blades. Wait, two? "Captain Renault," he said, "where is she?"
"She's... She's dead, sire," the Redguard said quietly. "I'm sorry."
The Emperor looked wearier than before, if such a thing was possible. Rosemonde had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort him. He was the Emperor of Tamriel. And even if she was worthy of even speaking to him, what would she say? Nothing she could think of seemed adequate.
Before anyone could say anything, however, Ivar spoke up, kicking the crimson-clad corpse at his feet. "So, does anyone know who these pathetic examples of assassins were?" he asked sharply, glaring down at the body in what looked to be disgust. But why would he be disgusted?
The Imperial Blade shook his head. "We think they may be part of some cult, but beyond that, we don't know."
"Well, lovely." Ivar sighed. He glanced up at the Blades. "You're running from what have to be the worst assassins ever, and you don't even know who they are or why they want the Emperor dead? Some guards you are."
The Blade's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean, worst assassins?" he asked.
"Well, think about it," Ivar said. "Their armor and weapons are magically bound to their bodies. Just cast a simple dispel on them and they'd be defenseless. And they just attacked head-on, giving us time to prepare. If it weren't for their numbers, we would have outmatched them easily. A smart assassin would have been alone and shot the Emperor with an arrow while still on the ledge, perhaps while wearing some sort of enchanted jewelry that prevents them from being noticed. He would have been dead before you realized what had happened." Ivar knelt down next to the body and tugged at the hood, ignoring the stares of disbelief and distrust from the blades. "But I don't think they were going for the smart route. They're fanatics, mad with zeal. They'd eagerly die for a chance to fulfill whatever purpose their cult serves... and that purpose seems to be offing your Emperor."
Rosemonde was equal parts impressed and disturbed. She was impressed that he had managed to figure all of that out, no matter how obvious it seemed in hindsight. She was also disturbed because of how casually he spoke of killing and assassination. She was starting to get a very clear idea of why he had been thrown in prison.
"That doesn't explain how they knew we were here," the Imperial pointed out.
Ivar shrugged. "Maybe they magicked it out?"
Magic doesn't work that way, Rosemonde thought.
The Redguard Blade spoke up. "Well, it's too late to go back now. We need to get you out of here, Sire." As he walked over to the door, he glanced back at Ivar and Rosemonde. "Stay here, prisoners. Don't try to follow us."
Rosemonde stared at him, shocked. "But-"
Ivar elbowed her in the ribs before she could finish, glancing at her with an expression that clearly stated shut-up-now-please before turning the the Emperor and his Blades and waving them off.
As she watched them leave, Rosemonde felt more than a twinge of disbelief. She glared at Ivar. "How are you supposed to get out of here now?"
"How am I supposed to get out here? What about you? Don't you plan on leaving?" Ivar asked, raising a fair eyebrow.
"No," Rosemonde said matter-of-factly. "Leaving the cell in the first place was a stupid idea. I'm going back."
"Why?" Ivar leaned against a broken pillar, his green gaze unwavering. "What's up there that's so much better than being free?"
"You don't know me. You don't know what I did. Trust me, I deserve to be in that cell."
"No one deserves to be in a cell, Rose." Ivar replied.
Rosemonde stared at him. Did he not realize...?
But he had a point. As much as Rosemonde deserved to be in that cell, she would be lying if she said she enjoyed it in there. And maybe, if she followed Ivar out of here, she'd be able to start anew. She wouldn't be able to fully put her past behind her, no, but maybe she'd be able to at least try to live a normal life, as if what she had done never happened.
It was shamefully appealing. "All right," she said. "But that still doesn't explain how we're going to get out of here."
Ivar pushed himself away from the pillar and approached the wall, running a hand across it. "There are always secret entrances in ruins like these," he said. "Special glowing buttons, pressure plates... ah-ha!" he exclaimed, stopping. "Or a cavern behind a worn-down, wall! Now, we just need to find a way to break it down..."
"I can take care of that. You might want to move, though."
Ivar look surprised, but moved to the side regardless. Rosemonde took a deep breath, and turned inward, drawing upon all the magicka she could spare. Concentrating, she hit the wall with as much telekinetic energy as she could muster. The wall all but exploded, and she had to duck out of the way to avoid being hit in the head by a chunk of stone.
"By the Unholy Matron!" Ivar exclaimed, jumping back. "What sort of magic was that?"
"Telekinetic magic," Rosemonde responded, falling to her knees and exhaling. That spell had taken a significant toll on her energy. "I'm a mystic. That sort of thing is my specialty."
"Blowing things apart is a mystic's specialty? I thought you lot were all about the detecting life, trapping souls, walking on the surface of water, that sort of magic!"
Rosemonde glared up at him. "Walking on water is an alterer's forte," she said, getting to her feet. Granted, she was no slouch in alteration magic, but she had always found that particular spell to be a bit pointless. Who would possibly need to walk on water? "Don't expect that sort of thing from me too often. It takes a lot of energy to pull that sort of thing off."
Ivar peered into the natural cavern that greeted them. "That shouldn't be necessary," he said, walking into the cavern and looking around. "Hm..."
Rosemonde didn't follow. Doubt still lingered at the back of her mind. It felt wrong. It was wrong, of course. She was breaking out of prison.
"Ha!" she heard Ivar exclaim. She turned to see him prying a rather old-looking bow and quiver of arrows from the hands of a long-dead corpse that could barely be called a skeleton. "Excellent," the Bosmer exclaimed, grinning. "With luck, we should be able to get out of these caverns with relatively little difficulty."
Rosemonde raised a skeptical eyebrow. "The only thing down here are rats, right? We should be fine."
Ivar laughed. "Oh, trust me, Rose. If we're near the sewers like I think we are, there's things far more dangerous than rats in these caves."
Goblins! The caves were full of damned goblins! Rosemonde gritted her teeth and reminded herself to kill Ivar later.
The goblin witch screeched at her, a ball of lightning forming in its deformed claws. Rosemonde barely had time to cast a shield spell before the lightning hit her. While the shield did absorb most of the spell, she didn't have the magicka to block it completely. A dull numbness traveled up her arms, and she fell back, crying out as the back of her skull hit a nearby stalagmite. Her shield remained, but faded. The goblin readied another spell.
Before it could finish casting, though, there was a small shhhnk sound, and the goblin fell, an arrow sticking out of its throat.
"Nice job being the distraction," Ivar snapped, climbing out of the pit in the middle of the cavern room. "Did they not teach you a single destructive spell in that Arcane University of yours? Not a single fireball? Really?" He struggled to his feet, brushing off his clothes.
"They wanted to teach me, but I was a lot more interested in the subtler magics," Rosemonde explained. wincing as she got to her feet. She felt a little worn down from that spell. Protective spells required a lot of magicka. Of course, hitting her head on that rock may have had something to do with it.
Rosemonde knelt next to the goblin witch's corpse, mentally gagging at the smell it gave off. She grabbed its gnarled, carved staff from up off the floor, running an eye over the corpse to make sure it wasn't going to come back to life and bite her. "I never really thought I'd need much in the way of natural destructive spells. I had a staff of fire commissioned right after I joined the Guild." She examined the goblin's staff. The carvings were actually tally marks. If Rosemonde had to guess, they tallied how many kills the goblin had claimed. She didn't want to know what sort of kills. "I'd wager this staff isn't as good as that one, but not many would be."
"Hmm." Ivar turned and started walking further into the caverns. Rosemonde followed, leaning against the staff for support. "You know," Ivar said in an almost insultingly casual tone, "you never did tell me what you did to end up in prison."
Rosemonde glared at the back of his head. "I thought I made it clear that I didn't want to talk about it," she snapped. "Whatever happened to it being my prerogative?"
"Well, I just want to make sure you're not a dangerous spoon thief or something like that, you know? I don't want to be traveling with such a dangerous criminal."
You're one to talk. "It's not that simple," Rosemonde said. "You wouldn't understand."
Ivar turned to face her, a slight smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "You'd be surprised what I can understand," he said. "Come on. These caverns can't go on forever."
It wasn't long before they reached the man-made ruins again. The air was fresher there. They had to be nearing a way out of there soon. Of course, nothing could ever be so easy.
The two of them rounded a corner and came across a ledge that dropped into a large ruin. Nothing too terribly out of the ordinary. "Do you think we'll be out of here soon?" Rosemonde asked, taking a couple hesitant steps towards the ledge.
"Shh!" Ivar hissed, grabbing her shoulder. "I hear something."
"A goblin?"
"No. Get in the shadows and stay still."
Rosemonde was about to object when she heard a voice that belonged to neither her nor Ivar.
"We should find a defensible spot and wait there with the Emperor until help arrives."
She recognized that voice. That voice was the voice of the Imperial Blade.
They had somehow crossed paths with the Emperor and his guards again? How?
It was official. This had to be a dream.
A/N - Reviews and constructive criticism is much appreciated.