A/N: Forgive the delay, updating may be slow because I have exams right after Christmas...but here's the next chapter, and thanks for the lovely reviews! :)

It took several days' worth of clambering up and down steep roads for the path to finally even out, though even when it did the trees all around still remained as thick and close as ever. On their way they passed the occasional small forest hut, but by and large all signs of civilisation had long faded. Fewer farmers travelled these roads, if any at all, for there were no open fields for many miles. Only woodsmen and hunters crossed the path now and then, dragging cartloads of chopped timber, or hauling a hastily-dressed deer carcass. Lleryn watched these rare passers-by with little interest - his attention was always focused upon the road, the trees, the sky above them. They had been walking for many days now without incident, and yet he never seemed to let his guard down. Margot wondered for what reason he could be so tense - they had not seen a single wild animal, and very few people used this road.

'Bandits,' Lleryn replied, later on that night when she thought to ask him about it. 'These secluded, forested areas are perfect for them. The road running through here is one often taken by travellers since it's sheltered and still mostly paved, but at the same time it is not so heavily used that a string of thefts and murders would draw the attention of the local authorities.' He poked at the fire with a stick, sending a small shower of embers into the air. 'This is how murderers work. They hide in the shadows, tailing their quarry, and make their strike when they are least expected. Then, they reap their reward with no resistance.' His fingers rested upon the hilt of Sanib at his right leg, tracing the designs upon it.

Margot sighed. 'I can't really imagine anyone willing to stay for long in these parts,' she told him. 'The trees make everything so dark, and the cold still manages to reach down to the ground. Even the hunters around here don't look as though they catch much, either.'

He poked at the fire again broodingly. 'I'll be happier once we're out of these woods,' he muttered. 'I'm used to travelling through plains, not thickets...'

When Margot woke the next morning, stirring in the first light of the sun that managed to penetrate the walls of the tent, the realisation that something was amiss came quite abruptly. Blinking and trying to clear her head, she wondered what it could be - was something missing? Was something there that shouldn't be? The trees around were silent. Margot squinted in confusion, wondering if perhaps she was imagining things, and turned over to get up -

A hand grabbed her wrist firmly, stilling her movements. Margot looked and saw Lleryn beside her, wide awake, his crimson eyes open and fully alert. Even through his loose nightshirt the tension in his body was fully apparent. What was happening? She opened her mouth to ask him this, but he quickly clamped his other hand over her lips, silencing her. Margot stared at him in shock, now very awake, and aware that something was definitely wrong. Lleryn leaned forward slowly, and, with a voice that was barely a breath, whispered in her ear: 'There's someone outside.'

Margot felt a chill of fear. Could it be true? Had he perhaps heard something she had not, which had woken him? Perhaps it was just an animal that had wandered into the small clearing they had chosen, curious about their presence...but if that were true, then why was there not the usual birdsong in the surrounding trees? Her heart began to hammer in her chest, and her terrified eyes met Lleryn's. There was no fear like hers in his gaze, strangely enough - it was instead a sharp wariness, a calculating tension that showed through the way he held himself, too...he was going to do something.

Margot watched in silence as Lleryn slid himself from his bedroll without a sound, every movement slow and fluent. His fingers closed around the twin daggers beside him, carefully creeping toward the tent opening. After unfastening it, he peered out for a long, long while; eventually, apparently having seen nothing, he slowly ventured out -

'Halt!' cried a male voice from the right. 'We have you surrounded! Lay down your weapons immediately!'

Margot froze, her worst fears realised, but there was little time to dwell on this for a split second later the tent-ropes were sliced through and the hide-sheets ripped away, leaving her sitting there in her bedroll fully exposed to a circle of gleaming swords.

As Margot sat there blinking and shivering, she soon became aware of the fact that all of the armed men surrounding her and Lleryn were clad in identical armour - military armour, that looked far too polished and well-kept to be Stormcloak. They wore the silver insignia of a dragon - these were Imperial soldiers, then, not common brigands. However, there was no reason to rejoice - the steel blades that were pointing down at her did nothing to console her in any way. There were far too many of them to fight, and Lleryn already had a sword-point to his throat, having just reluctantly relinquished Velms and Sanib.

'State your business here,' growled the soldier whose blade was at Lleryn's neck. 'For what reason have you set up camp in this area?'

'We're travelling! We're just passing through, on our way south!' Margot spoke up, fearing from the look on Lleryn's face that he was about to say something rude. 'We were only stopping here for the night!'

The soldier turned to frown at her sternly, keeping his sword arm up. 'Is that so? Then why, if you are simple travellers, are you carrying a military tent? We have seen plenty just like it at Stormcloak rebel camps! How are we to know that you are not, in fact, Stormcloak spies scouting our position?'

Margot blinked, horrified at the accusation. Of course...what a foolish decision, to sleep under such a tent in an area full of conflict that they wanted no part of...! It was only asking for trouble, and now they had fallen into a bad situation because of it...

'Oh, Nerevar preserve me...!' Lleryn snapped, appearing far more annoyed than intimidated, his temper flaring. 'I'm Dunmeri, you fools! Do you really think they'd let anyone who wasn't pink-faced and blond join their sons-of-Skyrim-only band? Or didn't you know that they barely tolerate the sight of us? Stormcloak spies, indeed!'

The soldiers glanced at each other, taken aback, some looking rather foolish.

'What about her, then?' the accusing soldier stubbornly persisted, jerking his head towards a still-terrified Margot. Lleryn held his gaze firmly.

'Do you really need to ask?' he muttered. Margot didn't understand, but it seemed the soldier did, for he slowly and reluctantly lowered his weapon, prompting the others to do the same.

'We're fleeing Windhelm,' Lleryn said gruffly, in a tone quite unlike his own. 'We took what we could and left, hoping to find a safer place together.'

Margot saw the soldiers glance from her to Lleryn, then back to her again, the assumption obvious in their eyes, and she realised what they were thinking...what Lleryn was inferring. She found that she did not care much what they thought - let them believe that she was running away with a dark elven lover, if that would help ease their suspicions in any way. Gods knew it was an easy thing to assume, given that she and Lleryn had been found sharing what was barely a single-man tent - though it was really the convincing softness of Lleryn's tone that made everything seem all the more believable. She had rarely heard him use such a gentle voice, so full of subtle hints at intimacy...Margot felt herself redden in spite of herself, the colour in her cheeks all the more intense under the eyes of the soldiers. Self-consciously she reached for one of the sleeping-furs, though it was only when she had draped it over her shoulders that she realised she had picked up one of Lleryn's cast-off tunics instead. She did her best to ignore the looks exchanged by some of the men, instead turning her attention to Lleryn himself, who was now on his feet and allowing Velms and Sanib to be closely examined. The soldier who had questioned him still did not appear entirely trusting of him, but what was important was that there were no longer any swords being pointed in their direction.

'Even if what you say is true, we must still bring you before the Legate and perform a search of your belongings to confirm this,' the soldier spoke. 'Gods help you if we find any evidence of Stormcloak affiliation upon you.' He turned to the others and barked a sharp order, prompting them to gather together all of the packs and gear, even folding up the collapsed tent. Margot had slipped out of her bedroll, stunned, wrapping herself in many layers of furs for decency, and found herself firmly tucked under Lleryn's arm.

'They have no reason to keep us for long, don't worry,' he murmured to her, his head bowed close to hers.

'I certainly hope not!' she hissed back, though she found that she rather liked this loving proximity, even if it was just for show...

'Headed to Riften, then, are you?' The tall Legate, a stern-looking Altmer whose gold-tinged skin was caked in grime, stood close to the roaring campfire, behind which some of the soldiers were neatly repacking Margot and Lleryn's belongings. The search had been very thorough and careful, and when nothing had been found they had been surprisingly polite and even offerred to mend the tent-ropes for them. The Legate also seemed like a rather decent sort, who obviously kept a very ordered camp - Margot had marvelled at the tidy uniformity of the tents, and the polished, well-mended equipment within them. As steely-eyed as he was, there was an intelligent, reasonable quality to the Legate that Margot would not have expected to find in somebody whose life was devoted to war. Perhaps not all soldiers were barbarous and bloodthirsty after all...

'I heard that there's a good temple in Riften,' the Legate was saying. 'And the Rift is certainly more hospitable than these godsforsaken northern parts.'

He looked towards his men, who had finished securing the ties on the two packs. 'Since we have found nothing to indicate you are Stormcloaks, you are free to go on your way,' he told Lleryn and Margot, then beckoned to one of the soldiers, who approached with Velms and Sanib in his hands. 'I return to you your weapons, too - they are truly fine blades.'

Lleryn took back his daggers, making a visible effort to do so gently and not to snatch them. He sheathed them both, smiling. 'They are indeed,' he answered.

The Legate inclined his head. 'Your packs are ready, I believe. You can take them and head on - I apologise again for the misunderstanding. We simply cannot afford to be lax during these times.'

'That's quite alright,' Margot smiled, though Lleryn only managed a vague grumble before steering her away. However, before they could gather their things, the Legate stopped them briefly.

'A word of warning before you leave,' he added in a low voice. 'Citizens of Skyrim are not the only ones to use these roads. The justiciars of the Aldmeri Dominion also operate within these region...and it would be safer if they were not to notice you. I regret to say that the Thalmor are particularly...conservative in their views. Much more so than the Nords, when it comes to racial ideology.' He smiled and gave them a nod. 'I wish you good fortune.'

As Margot and Lleryn left the camp, newly-packed bags upon their shoulders, she thought upon the Legate's words. The Thalmor? It was a name she had heard heavily maligned by the Nords, and associated closely with the Imperials - but if the Nords claimed that the Imperials were on the side of the Thalmor, then why did the Legate warn against them in such a way? Were they a bigger threat than she had previously thought? Suppressing a shiver, Margot followed Lleryn through the trees and down the hill, where the road lay ahead to take them onward.