A/N: So, I put a warning in the 11th chapter but this is where things get implicatedly icky and a bit adult. I can't prepare you past that but I have warned you

I grasped the straw of my cell, digging through it, hoping I'd find a way out. To no avail. Shivering in my still damp rags, I stopped and buried myself in the straw instead for warmth. It wasn't much better but at least I wasn't chained to the wall. Grier had decided it wasn't necessary anymore. She was probably right. When they'd dragged me down, I'd fought tooth and nail. When they they put me back in my cell now, I could barely hold my head up. I was exhausted, admittedly. Through the bars in my cell, I could see the trough and visibly cringed, using my sapped strength to turn away from it. I wished I hadn't. I wished I'd saved my strength. Because as I resettled amongst the straw, the door above creaked open, the sound sending pure terror with its cold, double edged blade straight into my heart. I froze, imitating the stillness of sleep as best I could. I could hear the sound of gauntlet meeting the cell bars and felt eyes on me, fighting the urge to shudder, to reveal that I was awake. All my control went out the window when I heard-

"Halfling."

Bendu had come for me.

(GENERAL)

"And these," Lilith said, handing Brynjolf her daggers.

"Lass, I've got a sword," he said.

He didn't want to make her mad, taking the weapons anyway.

"Something was wrong," Lilith said.

She looked pretty damn dramatic, standing in the cold wind of Winterhold, looking past the city and college, as if she could see Solitude. Brynjolf suddenly realized just how terrifying she could be.

"The taint of a Daedric champion hung over the Hold," Lilith went on. "And it was so dark."

She shivered and her husband moved to wrap her in his arms, to share his warmth. Brynjolf watched the pair for a second before he began fiddling with the daggers.

"Those are silver," Lilith informed him, cuddling into Farkas. "Enchanted by fire."

"What do you expect me to run into?" Brynjolf asked.

Lilith's eyes seemed to glow a more vibrant violet and her head cocked as if someone was whispering secrets into her ear, someone who wasn't her husband. Someone who probably wasn't even there.

"Everything," was Lilith's response.

She withdrew from Farkas's grip, approaching Brynjolf. He tensed but she wrapped her arms around him in a platonic hug.

"Bring her back," she whispered.

"I will," Brynjolf swore.

Lilith stepped back, her eyes toned down now. She was smiling, though it was weak, as if she knew something bad would happen. Or was happening. Her eyes went to the sky as she whistled. Brynjolf followed her gaze, watching as a dark form emerged from the snow and wind. He remembered this dragon, the one that had taken them to Whiterun not too long ago. He smirked, almost wanting to make a joke but chose not too. Best not to anger the dragon he was going to spend hours with.

"Thank you, Odahviing," Lilith said.

The dragon spoke, his voice a rumble, in a tongue Brynjolf had never heard. Then his reptilian eyes swung to Brynjolf.

"Come," was all he commanded.

The dragon hadn't landed, lifting into the air without his thief rider. Brynjolf glanced at Lilith who smirked his way.

"Run and jump," she instructed.

Brynjolf almost hesitated until he remembered what was at stake.

"When I get her, where do I bring her?" he asked.

"Odahviing knows," Lilith assured him. "Trust him."

(SYRA)

No pretense now. As soon as Bendu was in my cell, I was on my feet, not so foolish as to back myself into a corner. Bendu didn't seem to care as he stepped closer. He left the door open, foolishly, and that would be my way out. We stared at each other, neither moving. Until...he did. He lunged for me and I dodged to the side, hurrying for the door. I almost made it too, except Bendu, last second, grabbed my hair, yanking me back. I may have been taught never to panic but I did now, fighting wildly, wasting precious energy on desperation. I screamed, for all the good it would do me, kicking. Bendu buried his nose in my hair, sniffing deeply. His chuckle was a bell in my ear.

"Can you really fight me?" he asked.

I couldn't but I wouldn't let him know that. So I bit him. It did little to him, maybe angered him a bit since he threw me against the wall, pinning me there. He lifted me so that our waists were level and, I suspected, for ease of access. I could feel him already poking me and I struggled, clawing at his face with my nails. Or the dirty stumps that had been my nails. He grunted at them as they cut him, grabbing my arms and pinning them above my head. I struggled, I will admit that, but my neglect while in Greir's care was too much. Bendu used that to his advantage, more skillful than I thought as he slid his free hand up my shirt. His hand found my breast, sending sharp aches of cold from his gauntlet. I cried out, struggling against his hold. He was merciless, turning my weak body against me with such ease. I didn't even noticed when he'd released my arms, giving me freedom to fight back. Freedom I didn't take. Because even though he disgusted me, my body was drawn to his warmth.

"Good, Halfling," Bendu whispered, relieving me of my shirt with a quick, tearing sound.

As soon as his mouth neared my breast, I bit him, savagely. He responded by slapping me, the gauntlet leaving behind a ringing in my head as he dropped me to the floor.

"Fine," he snarled. "If that's how you want it."

He moved faster than me, yanking at my pants. They tore as well, freeing my legs more and revealing parts of me I wanted Bendu to have nothing to do with. I drew back, kicking him in the face, breaking his nose and scurrying out of reach as he blindly grabbed for me.

"Bitch!" he hissed.

His eyes found me, just as I crossed the doorway from the cell. I could hear him behind me, felt his fingers briefly touch my waist before a strong current of wind took him away from me. I good heard the cries of a man dying but didn't know yet what he was dying from. Not until Dyre stepped from the shadows that seemed to follow him, his red eyes taking in the mess of me.

"Dyre," I whispered as he approached, body like a cat's.

I didn't get another word in. With his vampire speed, he pinned me, silencing me with a kiss I couldn't break, no matter how hard I tried.

"Dyre,no," I managed when he drew back to give me air.

"Syra, hush," he whispered.

His eyes took me in, every trace of Dyre gone by a hungry and enraged animal that was over me ready to devour me. And devour he did, his fingers forcing me legs apart. For Dyre, there was no foreplay, only the act itself and he secured his grip on my legs, somewhere in all this unfastening his armor enough that he could hold himself in his hand. Fight as I might, I was no match for a vampire. He smiled at me, his fangs glinting in the dim light.

"Together again," he said.

And then he entered me, far bigger than I remembered and after so long celibate, it felt as though he was tearing me apart. And he didn't seem to care, taking his own pleasure with every thrust. I dug my fingers deep into the floor, holding in screams as he did. For Bendu, I would have screamed endlessly for someone to stop him. For Dyre, I would do the same, if only my rescuers never found out he was my brother.

(GENERAL)

Greir, so recently still human, was still on a human schedule. She had a human routine. Not so much human but a living routine. One that had stuck when she'd awoken a vampire. As was usual for her, when she was alive, she ran her fingers through her hair with a dagger, evening it out. She preferred it short. She remembered Syra's long hair, smirking at the ridiculous length. So much easier to hold. As always, she finished just as the sun reached the halfway part of her room. Didn't matter, she moved easily in the sun, pacing as she waited for Bendu.

And kept waiting. The Thalmor had been late before, true, but as she waited, longer still, dread bloomed in her heart.

"Atrith!" she roared. "Find me Bendu!"

Brynjolf glanced between the bars of the gate, watching the Thalmor guards troop away. When they were out of sight, he vaulted over the gate, landing as lightly as possible. He covered his tracks, quickly, quietly, and kept moving. He'd quizzed Etienne before Mercer could have him thrown out, learning that the Thalmor kept their prisoners in a separate building. The door to that building was locked. He was on edge. It was too easy so far and he was a good thief but certainly not the best. He did make quick work of the lock, the ease of which leading the furtherment of his discomfort. He didn't linger on it too long, ducking into the building. His blood ran cold at the sound of two voices, speaking from a room hidden to his eyes from where he stood. He sent up a prayer of sorts that his luck would remain as it was and then he surged into the room like a force of nature. He surprised the Thalmor there, knocking the first out easily. The second was aware and put up a fight, his sword cutting at Brynjolf's arm, the pain sharp but fleeting. It wasn't a deep cut but blood welled up. Brynjolf knocked the sword aside, grunting, before driving his fist right into the guard's face. The Thalmor were a force to be reckoned with when it came to magic but physical violence, well, Brynjolf cracked his knuckles as he stepped over the second one, grabbing the keys off the desk he saw. His next stop was a lone door that caught his eye. When opened, it was nice not to waste his lockpicks, he stepped in, looking down at the prison before him. He saw devices of torture that made him flinch, stained with blood as they were. He wasted no time with the stairs, leaping from the small platform he was on. His fall and landing were quiet and graceful. Before he stood, the smell hit him. The reek of a fresh kill that was turning into a rotting corpse. He could practically hear the blood leave him. Please don't let him be to late. Begging and pleading, he hurried forward, ever the silent thief, creeping past the cells to gaze at the body on the floor. The eyes had been gouged out and the tongue lay on the floor beside the Thalmor Wizard. Not Syra. Brynjolf had known the lass was strong and she was of the Dark Brotherhood breed so this level of violence he wouldn't put past her. But had she really done this. And where was she? He retraced his steps, peeking into the cells until he found her. Her cell was unlocked and he opened the door, approaching slowly. Was she really asleep?

"Lass."

Even if she was asleep, it was never a good idea to surprise an assassin. Or a female in general. Brynjolf recalled the weeks Delvin had spent, unable to take a job due to a broken arm he'd received after surprising Vex. Gently, Brynjolf rested a hand on her bare shoulder, the only thing she hadn't been able to burrow into the bed of straw she'd made. Her eyes shot open and she looked at him, her blue eyes unusually dim. Brynjolf could see a dark horror lurking in her eyes that he couldn't remember holding much emotion at all.

"Lass," he said again.

He stopped, unable to continue. Saying he'd come to save her sounded like a lie. Now he could see the bruising on her shoulder and he had a feeling that wasn't the only bruise she had. He lowered his hand, gently grasping her upper arm and pulling her from the straw. She managed a whimper ,at best, but didn't fight him. Brynjolf saw why. Her clothes, rags to begin with, were torn. She must have been freezing. Brynjolf released her and she burrowed back into the straw as he rose. He had seen them, briefly and fleetingly, when he'd entered and had saved the information as a meaningless tidbit. Stacked in the corner of the torture cell were ragged robes carelessly thrown their, some stained with blood. He found the cleanest of them and brought them back to Syra.

"Lass, get dressed," he instructed.

If he had to help her, what other horrors would he find decorating her body? Syra didn't respond, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the wall. Brynjolf fell to his knees beside her.

"Lass, please don't make me do this."

His pleas fell on deaf ears and Brynjolf steeled himself as he reached into the hay pile, pulling her up enough to pull the shirt over her head. He'd undressed plenty of women. Dressing one was a first for him and he tried to do it with as much care as possible. For her part, Syra didn't react much, not even when he picked her up, finally dressed, and started carrying her from the cell. Her eyes were still glazed over and Brynjolf was glad of it, especially as they passed the dead Thalmor. There was some blood under her nails. Despite all his misgivings, now that he had her, he was less worried about being caught. The idea hadn't crossed his mind as something that could happen. Until it did. It came as soon as he stepped from the stifling prison, emerging into the snow that he ran across a Nord. Which was strange in itself. Red eyes gazed back at him. Unnaturally red, especially with a Nord. Brynjolf's eyes widened.

"Vampire," he breathed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The vampire's fangs flashed when he spoke and he took a menacing step forward. Brynjolf readjusted his grip on Syra, drawing one of Lilith's daggers. Now he understood why she'd enchanted it with fire. As the blade glowed, the vampire backed off a step, glaring.

"Syra," he said.

His voice was low and intimate, full of longing as if he cared not for the escape attempt simply because it was Brynjolf she was leaving with. Something in that voice set Brynjolf on edge. He needed to start moving. Now. Slowly, crouched to defend himself, he headed back towards the way he'd come in, praying the vampire didn't follow though there was no chance of that. Those red eyes followed him, their owner's body tensed and ready to spring. He needed something to distract him when the time came. Just when he thought the Divine were against him, a female voice echoed from the Embassy.

"Dyre!"

Female it was. Human it was not. It was an animalistic roar of anger and Brynjolf was flooded with dread when another vampire, a blonde with short hair stormed out to join the stand off. But her eyes were for the male vampire rather than Brynjolf and his stolen prize.

"What is it?" demanded the first vampire, eyes never leaving Syra.

"You killed Bendu!" snarled the female.

Bendu? An Altmer name. Was it the body in the cell, eyes gouged out and tongue ripped out? A wave of relief flooded his body. Somehow, knowing Syra hadn't done...THAT gave him a great sense of relief. The two vampires. Now that stole the relief away.

"He deemed himself worthy enough to touch what wasn't his."

A dark smile flickered across that horrible face.

"The men in Skyrim do tend to do that a lot."

Now his gaze zoned in on Brynjolf, the intensity drawing the gaze of the female vampire as well. Her eyes narrowed further.

"Guards!" she barked, more annoyed than ever.

Brynjolf swore inwardly as the guards gathered at her command, not even stopping to catalog the situation. They headed for him instantly, weapons half drawn. It was then Syra decided to return. Eyes still glazed, she turned her head, still resting in the crook of Brynjolf's arm, looking at the approaching force.

"Back," she said, a booming undertone in her voice.

Something distorted the air, Brynjolf could feel a sort of backlash that almost staggered him, and the guards were thrown like rag dolls, weapons scattering. Syra broke from his grip, her weakened legs able to hold her up somehow. He could see a faint glow surrounding her, her hair lifting slightly as she walked, no, she wasn't just walking. She was almost floating. Reaching down, she picked up a discarded bow and a single arrow. She readied it, pointing it at the female.

"Did I not warn you?" she asked, that same undertone giving her the voice of some Divine or Daedric creature.

Brynjolf almost whistled. He was definitely attracted to power. The female vampire smiled.

"Azura," she chuckled. "Oh I should have known. I'm not surprised you'd lie and claim that she would kill me. When it is you."

"It is through her, that I end you."

"Never can trust either the Divine or Daedra," hissed the vampiress.

"Most of us tend to despise the undead," was Syra's, Azura's?, retort.

She let that arrow fly, let it sink into the vampiress's unguarded, unarmed chest, right where her heart would be if vampires had such things anymore. A hiss of pain was all that vampiress let out before she fell to her knees. Her eyes rolled back into her head before she fell to the ground. Next was the male vampire. He was watching her, bored, not at all terrified, as if he didn't believe that he was apparently facing down Azura. The Thalmor guard was starting to rally itself but the two just stared at each other before Syra turned back to Brynjolf, floating past him to the intended portion of gate he'd staked out. Brynjolf cast a glance in the vampire's direction, wary, but followed her.

"Seems you're doing better, lass," Brynjolf remarked, as they climbed over the gate.

What else could he say? It was a miracle she was on her feet let alone that she was scaling gates. She leapt from the gate, landing on her feet before she turned to him, eyes still slightly glazed over, as if she wasn't completely there. He could almost believe he was talking to another being entirely. But that made no sense. Syra's hand reached out, brushing his cheek, smooth against the stubble there.

"We expect great things from you, Brynjolf," she intoned.

He was about to ask her to elaborate but those eyes cleared and Syra's usual blue eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed. Brynjolf was fast, catching her before she hit the snow and lifting her once more, hands no longer occupied by Lilith's enchanted dagger. He'd only taken a few steps when Syra's eyes opened again and she looked at him, weakly.

"You," she began.

Brynjolf smiled her way.

"Calm down, lass," he urged. "The hard part's over."

He hoped. Syra blinked slowly, sleepily even. He expected her to argue, to fight, to insist her put her down and let her walk. Instead, she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes again. Brynjolf heard her sigh as well, the sigh sounding like one of contentment. He'd never swear to it but he was pretty sure. And it made the rescue worth it.