"Easy there, Breton." A voice spoke out, but Isobel still couldn't see anything. She could hear some dull clanking and the rustling of water, but was blind to everything. She moaned out, still too stiff for a more complex protest, and struggled against her chains.

Her chains. She was chained down.

And she was cold, she wasn't wearing her Guild armour, rather something thin and scratchy. Her arms and legs were bare, and she couldn't feel any underclothes on. A swift tug revealed that she had been hooded, not blinded, and even though the candle and torch light was soft and warm it still pierced her sensitive eyes.

"Easy now, easy now." The robed Thalmor hushed as she gasped, tossing the black hood onto the table they were sitting at. It was a different elf than before, of that much Isobel was thankful, but she was still chained and trying to fight off paralysis poison in an unknown room with a Thalmor.

She was trying to piece together what all happened before everything went black, her and Etienne were at Meridia's statue... they were shot... what was that one Altmer babbling about?

'...Right now, however, we need more sensitive information...You will give us the location of the man my employer wishes to find, or you and your friend will suffer for it...'

"Where's...where's..." Isobel was trying to form words, but her lips were still too stiff and her mouth was drier than a bone. "Et-...Et-..."

"Etienne Rarnis is in already in his cell, asleep and cared for." The High Elf had turned back to the table, and with her eyes not squinting so hard Isobel could see an assortment of strange looking knifes neatly laid out before him. Some she could recognize, some she saw in the embalming chambers of Arkay priests... Others looked too bizarre and twisted to be made for cutting...

She was chained, in skimpy rags, in an empty room with a Thalmor, who was neatly laying out blades. There was no way this could be happening. This had to be a nightmare.

"The Thalmor who captured you didn't touch you, did he? Sexually? Didn't make any advances?" The Altmer questioned, sharpening his quill with one of his knives. "Inquisitor Horatio has been known to be more... inclined towards female informants. You can rest assured that we Thalmor do not sink so low as to conjoin ourselves to man." He spoke the last word with a tone of disgust, turning towards Isobel in her chair where she could finally see his long, golden face. "Especially in such an uncivilized way. Nor the beast races, nor would we put mer in such a humiliating position. What Horatio has done has been dealt with in the past, and we do not condone his behavior."

He pulled up his own chair and sat down facing her, taking a moment to hold her gaze with his dark, almost black eyes as she struggled to make sense of what he was talking about. Conjoining with man... not putting mer in humiliating positions... inclined towards informants...

"What...what do you..?" It was still too difficult to speak, mostly from the fact that she was now shaking violently instead of being frozen in place. "I...I don't..."

"It's for this reason that I've been placed in charge of your interrogation and Horatio excused. He's good at what he does, no doubt very talented, but he's... unstable. He's been assigned to some other task anyways... something about some Nord..." The Thalmor mumbled, ignoring Isobel's whimpers as he stroked his blonde beard. "You can call me Master Rulindil or Interrogator Rulindil, you must use my proper title when you address me."

"It's...it's just...what..." Isobel continued to quake.

"What we're going to do now is just a basic interview, we have to get to know each other after all. Your friend Etienne has already done his and is asleep in his dorm." Rulindil explained. Isobel tried to look away, frantically scanning the room for anything that could help her, but as she saw the even more macabre torture implements around her and the eerie balconies circling them on the level above it made her feel sick and nauseous with fear.

They had finally found her. She was so scared of the Penitus Oculatus Agents she never thought to avoid Thalmor. There was no other possible reason for her to be captured like this and being prepared for torture...and she had dragged Etienne into it with her. A tiny sob escaped her lips.

"Whatever you want... just let Etienne go. You can keep me... please, just let him go, he's innocent." Isobel begged.

"Hush now, Breton. There is no need to plead for mercy tonight." The statement made another sob choke out of her. "We almost caught one of your thieves a while ago, a Bosmer named Niruin, but he managed to slip away." Rulindi took his quill and dipped it a few times in a inkwell before placing it on the first page of a blank logbook.

"...20th of Evening Star...I can't believe it's the end of Evening Star already, how does Riften celebrate the New Life festival? There's always a gala here but it's usually just a mob of Nord nobility full of mead... Rubbish compared to the Summerset Isles." Rulindil muttered more to himself that to Isobel, continuing to scribble down the date as she shivered. "Now, shall we start at where you were born? What country are a birth-citizen to? And what's your birth date?"

'Shit...' Isobel thought. She was never told her birth country and she doubted the Thalmor would accept uncertainty for an answer.

"Wayrest...in High Rock..." She managed to spit out. "Born on... on the twenty-eighth of Sun's Dawn...twenty-two years ago...in the year one-hundred seventy-nine." Rulindil jotted down her answers before continuing.

"Any other races in your ancestry?"

"No, all Breton."

"And where are your family now? Still in High Rock?"

"No... no, they're all dead... Bandits." The Altmer sighed sympathetically at her answer.

"Typical savages and barbarians... I'm so sorry." He took another few moments before his next question. "Now, what is your name."

A million thoughts reeled through Isobel's head. There was no possible other reason they could be capturing her, it had to be over what happened in Cyrodiil. Whatever Horatio had rambled about looking for the location of a man must've been a mistake, he probably mixed up his investigation with hers. She could tell Rulindil an alias, and pray that he would believe and release her, or reveal her real name and no doubt be dragged back to the Imperial City.

More water pressed against her eyes as she realized that she would never see Brynjolf or any of the Guild again if she surrendered, she couldn't imagine the heartbreak her family would suffer if she went back home only to be executed after all they sacrificed for her.

So when she opened her mouth she gave her aunt's name.

"Abigail Gaercroft-" The backhand made Isobel unable to gasp, she could practically feel the bruise already.

"Your real name, please." Rulindil murmured sinisterly. Isobel clenched her jaw tightly. All her years of torture training flooded in on her. It was always one of the more disturbing aspects of her Guild but prepping thieves to withstand agonizing interrogation was crucial given how large-scale and notorious her Guild was. She was fifteen when Quentin and the Gray Fox started honing her pain threshold, the Thalmor would have their work cut out for them if they wanted to rip her away from the Guild.

"It's Abigail Gaer-"

"Do I really need to dip into my more advanced methods already?" Rulindil cut off briskly. "Normally first nights are so easy, hardly anyone has to get hurt on their first night."

"You wanted my name and I gave it."

"Don't be cheeky, Breton. We knew Niruin's name, we knew Etienne's name, and we know your name... Cooperate and I'll let you go to your dorm for the night unscathed."

Isobel released a shaky sigh, trying to harden herself. She wasn't going back to Cyrodiil, she wasn't going back to the Emperor, and she wasn't going to not fix all the mistakes she made in Riften. Picking out a corner of the dungeon she imagined Gray Fox there, watching her silently.

"Most people call me Abby if that's what you're talking about."

Rulindil promptly stood, sped to the back of Isobel's chair and undid the chains that had locked her into place. He pulled them off her, throwing them to the ground noisily in an irritated fashion. Isobel didn't even have time to react when the High Elf wretched up one of her hands, placed it on the table, quickly grabbed a knife and cut off the tip of her little finger.

Her scream of agony rocked her to her knees, desperately trying to pull away from Rulindil's iron grip as she writhed on the floor. She couldn't see her injury but could feel the hot blood pumping out of it.

"What is your name?!" Rulindil shouted over her wailing, positioning the blade on the next joint of her finger.

"It's Abby! It's Abby Gaercroft-" Another segment gone. Drool was now foaming and dribbling from her mouth as she wept, unable to focus on anything but the piercing pain in her finger.

Gray Fox is watching! Gray Fox is watching you! Be strong for him!

"What is your name?!"

"Abby Gaercroft!" Now her entire little finger was gone and the knife was already ready on her ring finger, it's metal now wet and warm. Isobel steeled herself with a low growl, envisioning the Gray Fox in his corner giving her a look of pride at the way she was taking the pain.

Snot was running across her lips but she could still taste Brynjolf.

"What is your name?!"

"Abby Gaercroft!" The answer came out angry and strong, but she still sobbed when the knife executed her ring finger. The first few drops of blood were starting to fall from the table and onto the stone ground.

"Fingerless thieves are quite useless, Breton... What is your name?"

Brynjolf's kisses... Brynjolf's green eyes... Brynjolf laughing on top of her in Whiterun guard armour...

Brynjolf nearly crying in fury in the Ratways...

There was no way she was going to go the rest of her life without apologizing for hurting him so severely.

"Brynjolf..." Isobel gurgled, her chest starting to ache the more she thought of that night.

"I highly doubt that." Rulindil actually laughed, its mirth dancing in Isobel's ears as she lost another piece of her body. "What is your real name?"

"Is my name the reason you've captured my friend and I?!" Isobel bellowed, the distress bringing her voice to another plateau of shrillness she'd never reached before. Snot, saliva, tears and blood were all dotting the floor, and she didn't know how much longer she could take the torment.

"No, but if you can't answer the most basic of questions what makes you think you can answer the harder ones?" The High Elf answered coldly. "Now, one last time... What is your name?"

"It's Abby!" Isobel spat, but instead of the excruciating sensation she was bracing for, an utterly different one manifested itself. It coaxed a moan of relief from Isobel, she could feel the healing light course through her entire body and not just her fingers.

"I'm not impressed, Breton." Rulindil spoke firmly, but Isobel could barely hear him over the blissful therapy he was giving her, her eyes were nearly rolling back in her head. "Cooperation is getting to be a damn luxury down here, now we have to continue this tomorrow when we could've finished it tonight."

He continued to scold her further, but Isobel couldn't keep listening. It was when he finally let go of her hand that she looked at what damage was done... but there was barely any. The table and her hand were beyond gory, but her joints were fully attached with violent red rings around each knuckle, and they were working. She wiggled her fingers in amazement, marveling at the Thalmor's restoration abilities.

"Don't mistake this as an act of mercy, Breton. We Thalmor have ways to draw things out." Rulindil said deeply as he wiped her bloody hand with a towel. He then took a small vial from one of his robe pockets and uncorked the top. When he pulled the stopper out Isobel could see it was attached to a needle, and before she could do anything Rulindil snatched her arm and stabbed her to the hilt with the potion-dripping pin, causing her to gasp.

"This is just a simple sleeping remedy we use for informants the first few nights. Helps them with the adjustment." Rulindil resealed the vial and returned it in its original place before pulling her up. "You'll find it works very quickly." She was frail, and wobbled slightly, but the Altmer kept a firm grip on her and guided her forward. "I must admit you thieves take your pain well, Etienne didn't tell me your real name and we cut off all five fingers... before reattaching them, of course." Isobel nearly threw up at the idea of Etienne being tortured because of her, he must've also thought they were captured because of her botched job in Cyrodiil was protecting her.

Rulindil led her towards a line of barred cells she hadn't even noticed across the room, pulling her away as she tried to look into each one for Etienne. Taking out a key from his front robe pocket and placing it into the lock of the furthest cell, Rulindil pushed Isobel forcefully in and promptly shut the door and locked it before she could escape.

"Sleep well and remember the pain, Breton. It will be waiting you in the morning." That was Rulindil's version of "good night" and it made Isobel's knees give out from under her. When the Thalmor's shadow was no longer in sight she looked around her new prison.

It was clean, mostly. Blood still stained the wood in some places and it smelled awful. But it was swept and there was even a waste bucket placed in the corner. Isobel nearly jumped out of her skin when she noticed the large Nord man huddled against one of the walls, curled into the fetal position and staring at her with glistening eyes.

She could see the red rings around his knuckles too... and his wrists, elbows, knees, toes and ankles...

The blood rush made everything fuzzy, and her head suddenly collapsed to the wooden floor painfully as if it suddenly weighed a million tonnes. Unable and unwilling to move, Isobel gave into the torpor that was circuiting through her body, her eyes fluttering before they shut completely. She didn't know if the was already asleep and dreaming or if the crackled voice she heard was right next to her when it whispered:

"I hope you're ready for this place."