Arguments

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ

When Hjar next met her other friends in Skyrim, she was going to ask them what the most awkward moment they'd ever experienced was. Experienced, or even witnessed. She really didn't think that any of them would have anything that could match this.

One by one, the Forsworn followed each other into Cidnah Mine. Men, women, some young, some old, though Hjar had drawn the line at children. Warriors, spellcasters, all bedecked in their 'armour' (not that Hjar really counted it as such) and armed to the teeth.

Thongvor's secret tunnel through the mountain was proving itself extremely useful. Five hundred Forsworn, including thirty Briarhearts, had just entered the city without giving away their presence to those inside.

Of course, that meant that there were now five hundred Forsworn staring down about half their number in fully armed and armoured soldiers.

Thonar had emptied a large number of the caves just to make room for them, but that meant that the already overpopulated mine was now full to bursting. People didn't have the room to sit down, never mind sleep, and the number of warm bodies was making the already musty air feel heavy and humid. Dozens had already tripped and fallen, or cut themselves on rock, some injured quite seriously. The situation was going to explode, soon.

The only question was where, and onto whom.

Hjar stepped out into some of the only empty space in the entire mine. A thin spread of clear floor in front of the main entrance. Right between the two armies.

The Silver-Blood mercenaries and Markarth volunteers stared across at the Forsworn fighters, who stared right back. Both were about as tense as Hjar had ever seen two groups who weren't already stabbing each other; hands on weapons, eyes shifting nervously, waiting for one wrong move to devolve into total chaos.

Faolan's left testicle, this is terrifying…

The Nord forces shifted, and Thongvor emerged from within them, armed for war. He stepped out into the empty space as well, stopping a few paces away from her.

Hjar held out a hand.

Lots of people held their breath.

Then Thongvor reached out and shook it.

She smiled, and turned back to her own forces. "ALRIGHT, PEOPLE!" She shouted. "I've already explained to you how this is going to work, and you've still agreed to come! Now I wanna assume that means you all understand, but we're gonna run it through for you again!"

"Our targets are the Thalmor, and the Imperial remnant that sided with them!" Thongvor spoke up, his booming voice annoyingly carrying much farther than hers.

"We are not harming the city guard! We are not harming the citizens! We are not destroying property! And we are not harming the Forsworn!"

"They're our enemies!" Came one brave voice within his ranks, which was met with a few shouts of assent. "We should kill 'em now!"

Hjar's forces bristled, some drawing their weapons.

Thongvor swiped an arm through the air, roaring "NO! Enough blood has been spilled between us! Any more just gives the elves exactly what they want!"

"We do not ask you to like each other!" Hjar added. "We do not ask you to trust each other! We barely ask you to fight alongside each other! But we do demand that you do not harm each other, and keep your weapons for the people who deserve them!"

"He's a Silver-Blood!" Called one Forsworn. "His family murdered mine!"

"Those bastards are slavers!" Shouted another.

"Kill him and dump his head in the mine!"

Aaaand the tensions were escalating further, screw it now's as good a time as any—

Hjar reached out and grasped Thongvor's hand. "Now I had better not have just heard what I think I heard about my fiancée!"

Everything immediately went very quiet. Thongvor looked across at her in shock (and some other expressions she couldn't quite process), and she tried not to let herself think about how ew his hands are sweaty Margret's hands are never this sweaty—

"I think it's ABOUT BLOODY TIME that we put our country back together!" She shouted, resisting the urge to immediately let go. "And we can't do that while HALF our country is constantly at WAR with the other half!"

"My fiancée is right!" Thongvor spoke up, and by the gods that sounds just as horrible when he says it, hope nobody else notices how badly we both cringed— "It's time to make a choice! Our future could be one of safety, freedom, and prosperity! Or it could be a future of a war that never ends. What do you want? Blood? Or silver?"

"And you'd better make your minds up damn fast!" Hjar backed him up. "Because the attack is commencing right now!"

She let go of Thongvor's hand (thank the gods), and used it to draw Faolan's Redemption. "We're going to go kick down the doors of Underestone Keep, and take back our city! ARE YOU WITH US?!"

At the end of the day, these people really were just spoiling for a fight.

The cheering started. First just on the Forsworn side, spreading from a few voices into a cacophony, then spreading across to the Nords when Thongvor drew his own blade and joined in.

"Your hands were really sweaty!" Hjar shouted in his ear, under the noise.

"Mine? That was your fault!" He shot back.

"Prick!"

They waited a few seconds for the noise to dampen a bit, before Hjar reasserted herself. "REMEMBER! NO KILLING SURRENDERED FOES, NO KILLING EACH OTHER! ZERO DAMN TOLERANCE ON THIS! REMEMBER YOUR ATTACK GROUPS, FOLLOW YOUR FORCE LEADERS! FORSWORN OUT FIRST, LET'S MOVE! FOR THE REACH!"

"FOR MARKARTH!" Thongvor roared.

Hjar turned and charged up the ramp, and the Forsworn charged after her.

"…lright? Oct? Oct? Can you hear me?"

In the haze of Octavia's consciousness, the words managed to filter through and register as important. She groaned, and blearily tried to open her eyes.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy! Hey, you! You're finally awake!" Said something, that then clattered about next to her with a muttered curse. The lights were bright, so Octavia shut her eyes again with a grimace, and tried instead to get her mouth open.

"W…wha…"

"Water? I can get water!" Some more movement, then a crash and a muttered curse, before something was brought over and pressed to Octavia's lips. "Here. Drink."

That hadn't been what she'd wanted, but she drank anyway. She was able to get a few gulps down before worrying she might choke, then reached up to try and brush the cup away. That…worked surprisingly well, given the arm she'd chosen and what it had last been doing.

"What…happened?" She managed to croak out.

"You were attacked." The voice replied. "The Morag Tong attacked Dragon's Bridge, and —"

"I know. I was there." Octavia grunted, and tried to get her eyes open again. Squinting, she was able to confirm that the face matched the voice. "Cassia. Hi. What happened afterwards? Did the commander make it?"

Cassia's face fell, which was enough. But she clarified, "No, he died. If it hadn't been for Dulurza, you would have too."

Octavia's eyes narrowed. "She should have…gone after them."

"Ehe, no. Enough of that from you." Cassia flicked her in the forehead, resting her elbows on the bed. "You were messed up pretty bad. There was a period where I had to run your heart myself while I readjusted all your ribs individually. A lot of rapidly grown new flesh about your stomach, and I had to reset the bones in your left arm and right leg."

Octavia filed the knowledge away, asking "When can I fight?"

"Anyone else, I'd recommend a week of rest to let their body recover." Cassia took in Octavia's look at that, and rolled her eyes. "Factoring in that it's you, I don't want you out of this bed until tomorrow morning at the earliest. You're repaired, but your body's exhausted."

"Perfect…" Octavia wanted to protest, but knew to defer to her sister's judgement when it came to healing. This was the girl who had once prescribed 'a ten minute sit-down and a shot of whiskey' for a man she'd helped survive a heart attack. One did not go under her recommended recovery time.

"So I'm in Solitude." Octavia clarified. "That means Salvarus is in charge, right?"

"Uuuuh maybe?" Cassia shrugged. "Actually, I think you're in charge once you're cleared for duty again."

"Me?" Octavia blinked. "Maro chose me as his interim successor?"

"I mean, yeah. Obviously." Cassia didn't look surprised. "Who else was he going to pick? You're a Meteuse."

"I…see." It was funny. At this point, she'd spent years trying to scheme her way into Maro's position.

And now it was being handed to her. On a plate, beside his severed head.

"They're going to need you, I think. The situation's pretty crazy out there." Cassia continued, moving to start sifting through some vials. "Dulurza came in with your cute operative, Gaius, and apparently spilled the beans on the whole plot."

"What?" Octavia's eyes snapped up.

"Mmhmm. Said she had a contact." Cassia looked back. "The target was absolutely the Emperor, because of course it was, and the baddies were the Morag Tong. They had a plan, but now they're off course."

Oh, no.

"The Emperor." Octavia demanded. "Where is he?"

"Uh, right now?" Cassia shrugged. "I think having dinner? Elisif said all the fancies are getting together and—Whoa, hey! What're you doing?"

"The dinner!" Octavia snapped, heaving herself out of bed despite the throbbing in her chest. "Get me there!"

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o 8˂

Shadowmere's hooves clattered on the cobbles of Solitude, forcing plenty of citizens to stumble out of the way to avoid being trampled.

"Might they already be here?" L'laarzen shouted in Xander's ear.

"They almost definitely are!" Xander replied. "But if they'd already hit their target, the city would be on lockdown!"

He guided Shadowmere as best he could, the horse keeping to a (barely non-supernatural) gallop through the market. "The Emperor's definitely in the city! Get to the Blue Palace, my sisters should be there, tell them everything!"

"Did we not already warn Dulurza?" L'laarzen asked.

"That was when we thought the poisoning was off the table, and before we learned about the Gourmet!" He yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. "Go!"

"Going!" L'laarzen leapt off spryly, turning briefly to ask "And what will you do?"

"What I'm best at. Lie." Xander hopped off the horse and got jogging, swinging by a baker's stall.

The man looked up in confusion, only for Xander to toss a small pouch of septims at his chest. When he looked down in confusion, Xander snatched the chef's hat off his head, and left.

There were many ways to categorise lies, but one of Xander's favourites was 'lies you expect to hold up' and 'lies you don't'. If you wanted a deception to last for an extended time, it needed to be well thought out, extensive, backed up by 'evidence' and carefully maintained throughout. If it only needed to last a few hours, or a few minutes…

They can't expect the Gourmet's murder to stay secret for more than a few days, and I doubt they hired another premier chef, meaning they won't be able to pose as him for that long, writ or no. Unless we actually overtook them on the road, they're probably in here.

He fixed the chef's hat atop his head, and narrowed his eyes. Stow your fear of embarrassment, Xander, it doesn't matter what happens to us after, we need to keep the Emperor alive now.

"You there!" He called in his most imperious tone, approaching a familiar guard stood before a side entrance to Castle Dour. "Step aside, the Gourmet requires access to the kitchens!"

"W—What?" The guard blinked. "But I thought—"

"Yes well they don't pay you to think, do they?" Xander reached into his robes and slapped a sealed letter against the man's torso. "Read this if you must, but do not deter me a moment longer, I must go!"

He used the motion to pivot around the guard, grasp the door handle, and push it open.

"Didn't I see you at the wedding the other day?" The guard called after him as he moved.

"Of course you did!" Xander scoffed, before kicking the door shut and leaving the man in a confused stupor.

If he did open the envelope, he would find it contained the College of Winterhold's grocery list from the previous week. But Xander was already storming ahead into the castle.

He was soon in the kitchens, currently empty except for one lady (also in a chef's hat) who was wandering listlessly with a glowing expression.

"You! Chef!" He called. "You address the Gourmet. Is my kitchen prepared?"

"I—I'm sorry?" The woman blinked. "No you're not."

"No I'm not?" Xander replied, looming to his full height and raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no! The Gourmet already came through! The dinner is just about to start!"

Crap.

"And did she put anything in the meal?" Xander asked.

"Pardon?" The woman blinked at him, visibly overwhelmed—

He grabbed her shoulders. "The meal. Did this self-proclaimed 'Gourmet' add anything unusual? Anything you didn't recognise?"

"Well, I, I—I think so? Yes, she put in a, a coin and a giant's toe, and then this one root I didn't—"

"Then get outside and tell that guard so, you fool!" He shoved her roughly aside and stormed past her, reaching a jog up the stairs.

No no no no no no no—

The castle was bigger than it had any right to be, but only one room had sound coming from inside, guards stood on the outside, and a door left open. Given the suspicion with which those two guards were staring at him, Xander doubted bluster would be able to get him in the room fast enough. Fortunately, "Feim!" did, and even as the pair drew their swords and called for him to halt, he was able to walk straight through them and into the room unhindered, to see—

Emperor Pelagius Septim, sat at the top of the table, a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth,

Elisif the Fair, and half a dozen other nobles, sat around the table and looking up at the disturbance,

Dulurza, staring at him in open surprise along with Bolgeir and two other Penitus Oculatus guards,

Some Random Dunmer Woman In A Chef's Hat, who's face was rapidly going pale—

"What is this ridiculousness?" Xander demanded, cutting the etherealness and slamming his palms down on the table, causing the Emperor to freeze. "You would dare have such a meal without the input of The Mighty Gourmet?"

"You—What?" The Dunmer spluttered. "But—I'm the Gourmet!"

"Well if you're the Gourmet," Xander countered, "and I'm the Gourmet…who's steering the dragon?"

The room was completely silent, everyone locked in place.

Then Xander snorted. "Yeah, nah, she's totally an assassin. Just arrest both of us."

And then the room exploded, and the Dunmer yanked a kitchen knife out of her clothing and readied it to throw and Xander reached out with his bracer and fired off a lightning bolt that caught her in the hand and forced her to spasm and drop it and the guards came from behind and grabbed Xander's arms and forced them behind his back and Dulurza had gone and grabbed Elisif and yanked her out of her seat and the Emperor was being similarly hauled away by guards and the Dunmer twisted, breaking the grip of a guard and stealing his sword before being slammed into the wall as that one guard from the entrance stormed into the room followed by an absolutely horrified chef-lady and then the other doors to the room were thrown open and—

"Octavia!" Xander beamed, even as his head was slammed down onto the table and a sword was put to his throat. "You're okay!"

His sister looked absolutely awful, one hand was clutching her ribs, and she didn't even meet his eye, shoving aside one screaming noble with her other arm before launching a bolt of green light at the still-struggling Dunmer, causing her to sag in the grip of the other guard, her eyes fluttering.

Octavia was followed by another two guards and a highly confused looking Cassia, and the Emperor was gone, and so despite the still-ongoing chaos and the very uncomfortable position he was in, Xander started to relax.

His sister finally met his eyes and started walking over. "Okay, so," he began, "I know you normally prefer to move a bit more subtly than this but I did just save the—"

And then she put a hand on his forehead and everything went black.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡|

"Where are we going?" Dulurza asked, one arm wrapped around Elisif's shoulders and the other on her axe as she walked.

"We are going to the Emperor's bolthole until the situation is under control." Said Lieutenant Salvarus, face drawn into a thin line. "You may take your Jarl wherever you feel is best." Salvarus was walking ahead, and behind him, the Emperor had two Penitus Oculatus guards flanking him.

"Oh, so your bolthole doesn't fit four?" Dulurza snarked, eyes darting around the corridors, locking onto every door as they passed it.

"Thane." Elisif bit out, warningly.

Salvarus looked about to turn and reprimand her, but the Emperor raised a hand to forestall him.

"Your loyalty does you credit, Thane." Titus Mede told her, smiling in a politician sort of way. "But I assure you, if these assassins are after me, your Jarl will be much safer anywhere else. Please, regroup with your guards or soldiery. And, yes, it is very stuffy in there."

"It's perfectly alright, your majesty." Elisif said before Dulurza could start complaining, and deliberately slowed down to let the group move ahead.

Dulurza (reluctantly) allowed it, as Salvarus came to one door in particular and unlocked it with a key, before hurrying the Emperor inside and following. The two other operatives stood guard outside the door, as it locked again with a click.

Sighing, Dulurza let her Jarl pull her down a different corridor.

"I'm getting quite sick of having to flee from Castle Dour to the Blue Palace." Elisif remarked, tightly. "This is twice in two weeks."

"Considering just how much trouble you get into, I might have to start demanding higher pay." Dulurza pointed out, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

Elisif looked back at her inquisitively as she pushed a door open, revealing sunlight and open sky.

"Well…" The Jarl muttered, "I suppose I should reward you with a kiss when we get back, shouldn't I?"

Dulurza, quite wisely, kept her mouth shut at that, instead waving down a pair of Solitude city guards.

?

"Okay, this is utterly ridiculous."

Salvarus sighed as his companion strode forwards, undoing some of the outer clasps on the royal garb he wore.

"It's the job, Marco." He pointed out, turning to light some of the torches in brasiers along the corridor.

"Oh I'm fully aware of what I'm paid to do, but I'm getting quite sick of the frequency of its necessity." Marco growled, dumping his outer cloak on the floor with a complete lack of respect and also moving to bring life to some of the torches.

Salvarus tried not to get angry at Marco. Tried. He supposed being paid specifically to catch an arrow for someone else could leave a man rather bitter. At least Salvarus was meant to put a shield in front of the arrow, rather than catch it in his breast.

Still, was there not honour in dying for one's Emperor? They can't exactly be picky. Nobody else in Cyrodiil matches his Majesty's likeness so well.

"And why is Titus even here?" Marco was still protesting, finishing the torch and turning around. "Honestly, what's he thinking? We should have set sail on the Katariah the moment Vittoria…died…"

He trailed off.

Salvarus frowned, and turned around to see the problem, only for his heart to leap out of his chest and his sword to leap free of its scabbard into his hands.

There was a person stood in the middle of the room, torchlight flickering across chitinous armour. He had a dagger in each hand, and a mask over his face.

"Well isn't that interesting?" Said the stranger. "Because if you're not Titus Mede, I just got Mirri locked up for nothing."

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ

War was complicated. Hjar could figure that much out from context clues. She may have become rather proficient in small unit tactics over the last few months, but she had no idea how to properly lead an army to victory against another. She'd hoped for Thongvor to be able to do the heavy lifting there, but he was only a little more knowledgeable than her. Most of his experience came from reading about wars as he grew up and following the current civil war as it progressed (and working it out as he went during the current chaos in Markarth).

Fortunately, they didn't plan to run an extended campaign. They were going to have one big fight, and then it would be over, one way or the other.

The plan was very simple: Surge up through the city, defeat any pockets of resistance along the way, meet up at the gates of Understone keep, and then break in and defeat the Thalmor inside. It relied on two main things:

First, their overwhelming numbers advantage over their enemy.

Second, the fact that there was no way in Oblivion the Thalmor would see this coming.

Of course, it was never going to go perfectly. They were essentially charging two separate armies from the lowest part of the city up to the highest part, which came with a whole host of problems. The Thalmor hadn't been able to set up proper defences in the streets, but their agents quickly started popping up on the roofs of buildings to rain spellfire down on the attacking armies. That slowed progress significantly, but liberal use of archery (and the Forsworn's own mages) were mostly able to pin the agents long enough for the forces to push up and overwhelm their positions.

Hjar personally had to rush up to the top of the city's central stone spire to deal with a trio of Thalmor mages that could harass almost anyone in the city. That, unfortunately for them, left them without enough magicka to properly battle her. Or Margret with her, or the old lady that emerged from a door in the cliffside to completely disintegrate the last one with a bolt of lightning.

"Are…you with us?" Hjar asked between pants for breath. The woman was graceful and fair despite her grey hair, and her robes and amulet pegged her as a priestess of Dibella.

"What are your intentions for this city?" The woman asked, calmly.

"Stop everyone in it killing each other." Hjar answered, honestly.

"Hmph. Well, I'm certainly not against you." The woman waved, and went back inside.

Hjar exchanged a shrug with Margret, then continued onwards.

Unfortunately, the Thalmor weren't the only ones causing problems for the battle. Halfway to Understone, Hjar came across a group of Forsworn and a group of Nords arguing very aggressively with each other.

"OI!" She shouted, running over and interposing herself. "What happened here?"

That was when she saw the three bodies in steel plate, bleeding out on the stone. Damnit.

"Your maniacs murdered one of ours!" One of the Nords shouted, brandishing a sword. "What happened to your talk of unity? This is a betrayal!"

"They attacked us!" Retorted one of the Forsworn. "Came down the hill swinging without so much as a word! We had to defend ourselves!"

"ENOUGH!" Hjar shouted, inspecting the bodies. Armour's high quality, furs too; higher than I'd expect. Not all Nords, that one's an Orc, not that that means much, weapons are…Silver?

Thonar had a silver shortsword as well as a steel one. But from what he said, that was a family heirloom. They certainly didn't make them in the mine.

Oh, dear.

"There was no betrayal here!" Hjar insisted, standing. "These three don't work for Thongvor."

At the confused looks, she kicked one of the bodies over, revealing the cape at its back. And the hood made from a skinned werewolf. "They're not Silver-Blood. They're Silver Hand. The Thalmor have hired their own mercenaries."

Hjar turned to Margret. "Go warn as many other groups as you can, I'll tell Thongvor."

"Does this mean what I think it means?" The Imperial asked.

"It means I have another arm to remove." Hjar replied, flatly. "Go."

Margret nodded, and took off.

Hjar turned back up the hill, then snapped "And what are the rest of you doing? Enough wasting time pointing fingers, we have a keep to take!"

There were more deaths, and more incidents like that one. But over the course of almost three hours (each of which dragged agonisingly slowly), the allied forces were able to push their way up the city to the steps of Understone keep.

There, they were met with a line of Markarth city guard, two-men deep, blocking the entire way forwards.

Standing at their head was Faleen, Calcelmo, and a very irate looking Thalmor soldier.

While the Forsworn and Thongvor's men had been deliberately sent up different halves of the city to minimise incidents, they had now once again reunited, and were engaged in a very worried standoff with the guardsmen. Hjar (already feeling utterly exhausted), had rejoined with Margret and Thongvor, and the three of them approached the line.

"This is all our worst fears realised!" The Thalmor was shouting. "The savages and the rebels have joined forces to destroy this city! You have an obligation to—"

"Shut your mouth." Faleen instructed, dismissively, before looking down at Hjar.

"You did it." Was all she said.

"I did." Hjar replied, before amending "Well. We did."

"Cute." Faleen walked closer, moving down the steps until they stood eye to eye.

"I'm never going to forgive you." She said, quietly. "You know that, right?"

"I do." Hjar replied.

"And the second you start putting my people in more danger, I will drive that sword through your skull." Faleen continued. "Same goes for any one of your psychos."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Hjar replied, trying not to gulp.

Faleen sneered. She glanced across at Thongvor, clarifying "And you're with her in this?"

"Well, we're getting married, so." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, for Yokuda's sake…" Faleen sighed. Then turned around, walking back to her men. "Step aside! Your new Jarl wants access to his keep!"

There was some hesitation, but the guards did as they were ordered, stepping away from the gates. The armies both erupted into cheers. The Thalmor soldier paled, and started very rapidly backing up.

"Men, move back into the city!" Faleen instructed. "I want these streets secure! Keep the civilians safe, break up any more fighting you find! And arrest that poor elf, he looks like he's about to have a heart attack."

The guards dispersed, the armies surged forwards…and ran into the next problem. The gates were locked. Because of course they were. This was one of the most impenetrable fortresses in Skyrim.

"Don't suppose anyone has a Tongue lying around?" Thongvor asked, after a few minutes of bashing and magic failed to even dent the great metal doors.

"One in my mouth, but I'm using it. Why?" Hjar replied.

"I mean someone who can Shout, werewolf, and don't get sarcastic about that too." Thongvor rolled his eyes. "Ulfric Stormcloak was able to bring down the gates of this city with just his voice. Without that, I don't see us getting in anytime soon. Once the Thalmor and their lackeys still inside have rallied, they can start firing arrows and dropping rocks from up above. This could be a problem."

"Ahem!"

Both turned, and saw Kaie standing in the street behind them, sporting an impish grin.

"Did anyone ask for a secret entrance into the keep?" She offered.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| 8˂

Xander woke up in prison. This was the first time this had happened (in Skyrim, at least), and it was a very worrying experience. Once he recalled what events had preceded the moment, though, his worry got even worse.

"Xander? Oh, thank goodness."

As he groaned and sat up, L'laarzen rocked back onto her haunches next to him. "Khajiit has been trying to wake you for hours." She confided, looking at him with naked concern.

"Octavia's knockout spell." Xander grumbled. "Keeps you under for over half a day. If I'm awake, it means she wants me awake. Why'd she…what happened on your end?"

"L'laarzen encountered your sisters already moving towards Castle Dour." L'laarzen explained, sitting backwards once it was clear he was alright. "Khajiit started explaining what was happening, Octavia asked to hold her hand…she woke up in here some time later. Octavia told her the danger was passed, asked more questions, then left. This one was most upset."

"You're not 'under arrest', exactly." Said a new voice. Xander looked up, and spotted Dulurza leant against a wall outside the cell.

"You're here?" Xander asked.

"Not by choice." The Orc sighed. "But we don't have anyone else we really trust to watch the dungeons, not after the last person 'disappeared' from here. Not just you, mind; I'm also looking after the 'gourmet' over there."

She pointed to the adjacent cell. Xander (getting real sick of his inability to notice things soon after awakening) looked to see the Dunmer from before slumped behind the bars.

"Mirri." L'laarzen filled in, quietly. "Tong. She was with Vendil at Dragon's Bridge."

"She is almost definitely getting beheaded once she's been interrogated." Dulurza said. "You two, on the other hand, are here to…honestly I don't know."

"Keep us out of trouble?" Xander guessed.

"Hmph. Probably."

"Would certainly explain why they took all our weapons…" L'laarzen groused, fiddling with something between her fingers.

The action drew attention to whatever it was, and Xander squinted. "What's that?"

"Hm? Oh, ah." There was a flash of something shiny and metallic before it vanished, L'laarzen slipping it Gods-know where. "Nothing."

"Fair enough." Xander took a second to process what she'd said, then patted around his person. "Oh, bastards, they took my staves. Oh, bastards, they took my bracer!"

"It's in a crate, back in the Blue Palace." Dulurza pointed, vaguely. "Don't worry, I've made sure it wasn't touched." She cracked a small smile. "Your sister frisked you herself. I think you're in trouble~"

"Uh oh. How much trouble?"

"ALEXANDER MACHIAVELLIUS METEUSE!"

Oh, bugger.

Octavia stormed into the room, shoes clacking on stone, eyes livid.

Xander gulped, and got to his feet. "Oh, hey sis—"

"Are you out of your mind?" She snapped, approaching the door to his cell.

"Am I—Excuse me?" He furrowed his brows, affronted. "Sorry, more immediate problem, why did you knock me unconscious?"

"Because I was quite done with your nonsense for the day." Octavia retorted. "Conspiring with the Dark Brotherhood? Concealing information from me? Scheming with the Emperor's life? I reiterate, have you gone mad?"

"Okay, let's take those one at a time, shall we?" Xander stood up, walking over to her. "Firstly, I am destroying the Dark Brotherhood."

"I destroyed the Dark Brotherhood!" Octavia shot back.

"Well clearly not, because they managed to show up on the doorstep of my damn school!"

"You let them into a college with—"

"They were under control, they still are under control!" Xander protested. "Matter of fact, they're the only reason I know about this mess in the first place!"

"A mess, is it?" Octavia countered. "Oh, I'd quite agree. But why do you think it's in that state, hmm?"

(By this point, L'laarzen and Dulurza had both backed far away from the two. Neither wanted a part of the rapidly brewing sibling argument.)

"It was going to be a mess whatever happened." Xander stated. "I'd say my contribution was fairly positive, considering that, hey, I just saved the Emperor's life back there! A little recognition for that might be nice—"

"No you didn't you stupid boy!" Octavia snapped, with enough vitriol to make him take a surprised step backwards.

"Excuse me? What part of 'stopped the man eating poisoned potage' wasn't clear—"

"It was a body double!" Octavia explained, making his eyes go wide. "And you didn't even save him, because we found him and Lieutenant Salvius in the bolthole half an hour later with their throats slit!"

"What?" Xander blinked. "But…I thought—"

"No, I really don't think you did." Octavia snarled. "For the love of the Divines, Xander, when you found out that there was a plot to kill the Emperor, why didn't you just tell me? How badly did you want to be a hero?"

"Hey don't put words in my mouth!" Xander retorted. "You think I was in this for some grand sense of adventure? I was going to tell you, and then I watched Vittoria Vicci die! I knew if you found out what happened you'd have—"

"Gone utterly overkill? Thrown everyone important in a padlocked cell?" Octavia interrupted. "I'm not an idiot, Xander. I would have quietly had the Emperor shipped away and used his double as bait while moving to stop their plan!"

"I didn't know you had a body-double!"

"Then you should have trusted me!"

"SHOULD I?" Xander walked closer to the bars, wrapping his hands around them and glaring. "Look at you, 'Octavia Meteuse', so clever, so charismatic, so world-wise. Always have a plan, don't you, and everything always goes your way, except when it doesn't, and you start throwing a tantrum! Like you did after Vittoria, like you always have!"

"Am I the one having a tantrum here?" She demanded.

"You're the one who's thrown two of your allies in a cage." Xander pointed out. "Why are we here? Because, oh, you're just too stressed, and you just can't bear to deal with us right now!"

"You're in that cell because your antics have gotten over a dozen good people killed!" Octavia retorted.

"My antics? Are we blaming the actions of the assassins on me now? If I'd laid the entire plan at your feet you'd have cut me and L'laarzen out of it at the first opportunity, and then you'd have tried to deal with it by yourself, and who knows what would happened!"

"I would have SUCCEEDED!"

Xander barked out a laugh. "Like you succeeded at destroying the Dark Brotherhood? Like you succeeded at stopping this gods-damned civil war after however-many months? You really can't bring yourself to consider that maybe, just maybe, I'm not a CHILD anymore, and that you can trust me to get things done?"

"Oh, of course, there it is." Octavia scoffed. "The whinging of the boy whose magic wouldn't work, coming to the surface. Your insecurities about your own ability got Maro killed!"

"And your guilt over your dead commander is about to do the same for Titus Mede!"

Xander felt the magic in the room spike. It wasn't something he usually paid attention to; the College was constantly saturated with magic and elsewhere in Skyrim there was usually very little of it. He'd only realised magic was something he could feel after interacting with the Eye of Magnus, but it was certainly noticeable now.

Octavia's body thrummed with energy, magic rolling off her in waves like she was about to cast a spell with fury alone. Then she suppressed it, sucking in a breath.

"I will not make that mistake." She answered, reaching up to cradle her injured stomach with one hand. "The Emperor is leaving for Cyrodiil on the Katariah this evening. Once he is safe, I will be back to interrogate this 'Mirri', find out everything she knows, and then possibly tear down the entire Morag Tong if I find it necessary."

L'laarzen finally spoke up. "You expect it will be that easy? Three times now we have had the jump on Vendil's plans and he has outplayed us. 'Run away' is not something beyond him to predict. He will come for you."

"I'm aware." Octavia acknowledged, unmoving.

"And you're fast running out of useful people to protect him with." Xander pointed out. "Who else is on that ship that you can trust?" He leaned forwards. "Let us out. Let us help."

"Absolutely not." She scoffed. "You two are staying in here until the Emperor is far enough away that you can't kill him with your aura of incompetence alone."

"Oct, they might—" Dulurza tried,

"And enough from you." Octavia stopped her before she could continue. "Go back to kissing your Jarl until I need you to kill something for me, alright?"

Dulurza made a strangled noise, and Octavia turned back to Xander. "You have potential, little brother, you really do, but I am not betting Titus Mede's life on your first foray into being actually smart."

"'Actually smart'?"

"Stay. Here. And let me handle this." She turned, and walked for the door.

"Octavia!" Xander shouted, making her pause.

"We can't know what would have happened if I'd left this whole scenario in your lap." He said, in a low voice. "I got myself involved in trying to stop this, and Maro got killed. And sure, you can blame that on me. But if you go out there, and you keep us locked up in here, and then you still fail? That's on you."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"An experimental test, then." Octavia replied. "Alright. Let's see."

The clicking of her shoes slowly faded away as she left the prison.

In the cell next door, Mirri shifted ever-so-slightly.

We have fun here.

I imagine there will be a lot of viewpoints on Octavia's choices here and I eagerly await reading them. But the short of it is that she is keeping L and X way away from any further conflict if she can help it.

Meanwhile in the Reach, the conflict is only building. Now, I do not know how to write wars. My closest experience was in White Eyes, and in Naruto you can basically ignore the war because it only matters which of the superheroes in charge wins their 1v1s. But hey, I did my best.

Next Time: Someone climbs through a hole, someone rides a horse, and someone falls.