Backstab

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡| 8˂

Xander sat with his back against a wall.

L'laarzen sat with her back against a wall.

Dulurza sat with her back against a wall.

It had been over thirty minutes since Octavia had left, and nobody had said anything yet.

"…Your sister's a bitch." Dulurza was the one to eventually break the silence.

"She's not that bad." Xander protested, without much feeling or intonation. "Oct just forgets she's meant to be nice to people when she's stressed. You should have seen her during the Synod's exams."

"Yeah. That's what being a bitch is." Dulurza pointed out.

"Dulurza!" L'laarzen protested.

"It's fine, both of you." Xander chuckled, waving an arm. "Just 'cos she was rude doesn't mean she didn't have a point. We screwed up."

"Oh, you did."

The three of them looked up at the voice. In the adjacent cell, Mirri uncurled herself, stretching her arms above her head and sighing. "I mean, truly. I'm almost impressed."

Xander glared across at her. "Considering that the Emperor is currently not dead, I'd say you're maybe overdoing it a bit."

"Exactly. 'Currently'." The Dunmer grinned, leisurely getting to her feet.

"You're in prison about to be executed." Dulurza pointed out, not moving. "He's on a boat about to leave the country."

"And we'll see how long both of those last." Mirri started rolling out her wrists. "You really think I'd be here if I didn't want to be?"

"Are you really going to try and convince us you planned for all this to happen?" Xander asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your plan was to try to poison the emperor's body double, get caught, have your buddy assassinate the body double when he's moved to the bolthole, and then get yourself captured so that you can…what, exactly?"

"Don't be silly, boy." Mirri rolled her eyes, and her neck to go with it. "Any plan that needs more than three things to go right is far too complicated to succeed. What we do best is improvise. Isn't that right, traitor? I notice you've been quiet so far."

Xander looked across at L'laarzen, who had been sat silently in the corner of her cell. In the Nightingale garb, she was almost being consumed by the shadows of the room. But when she looked up, her eyes reflected a bright gold.

"Vendil always did have a knack for it." She agreed. "You, however, I suspect have simply been following his orders for the entire job."

"Ah, yes, following orders." Mirri leaned down, reaching for her toes while also bringing her face closer to L'laarzen's. "Maybe you should have learned a little more of that, hmm? Instead of fleeing into the night like a coward?"

"Khajiit had her reasons." L'laarzen answered easily.

"Ooh, mysterious." Mirri leaned back up. "You two know what that means, right? It means she was scared. I'm sure quite what she was scared of, though. Having to fight? The organisation she was a part of?" She paused, and smiled. "Or…were you just scared of settling down? It can't have been coincidence that you picked the honeymoon to clear off. Had your fill of Vendil, then decided to flee before you were forced to live in matrimonial harmony?"

"You have no idea of the matters of which you speak." L'laarzen said, quietly.

"Always thinking so highly of yourself yet in that one moment, it was all too much, hmm?" Mirri chuckled, stepping back and swinging her arms. "Or…oh, now there's an interesting thought. Were you afraid of me? I can understand it, really I can. Younger, prettier. His race. Oh, you must have realised that your grasp on him was slipping, started to worry exactly how long it would take for him to lose interest in you entirely. Well, don't worry. He and I have gotten a lot closer since you left, and—"

Someone started laughing.

At first, Xander couldn't work out who it was. It certainly wasn't a laugh he'd ever heard before; low, dangerous, the kind of laugh you might hear after amusing a Daedra in their home plane.

It took him a few seconds to trace it back to L'laarzen.

"Oh, Mirri." She mused. "Poor little Mirri Ulen. Tell Khajiit, exactly how long did you put off the realisation that you were lusting after your cousin, hmm?"

Mirri twitched. "Vendil's only my—"

"Ah, but L'laarzen is giving you too little credit. Not just 'lust', you are truly in love with him, aren't you?" L'laarzen stood, walking over to the bars between their cells. "A silly little girl, who's head is filled with childish fantasies to distract herself from the fact that she has no visions for her own future. You followed Vendil on his quest for revenge, then you followed him into becoming an assassin, and then you followed him after me. Trailing after him like a lost puppy, desperate for your master to finally give you some attention."

She gripped the bars, leaning closer. "But he never will, Mirri. And not only because you will never see each other again. But because you are beneath him."

Xander was able to see the edge of her smile, and oh boy did it have an edge. "How does it feel, hmm? To know that you are nothing to him but an asset? That he will never return your feelings. Not because he hates you, or because he loves another more. But because you are simply so inconsequential, you do not register in his mind?"

Mirri lunged, hands darting out to L'laarzen's throat. The Khajiit swayed elegantly back from the bars as the Dunmer crashed against them with a snarl, and Dulurza got to her feet shouting "OI! None of that! From either of you!"

"Apologies." L'laarzen said, breathing out heavily. Some of the energy seemed to drain from her, and she leaned backwards against the wall.

"You…okay?" Xander asked her, even as Mirri stalked back to the centre of her cell.

"No, not at all." L'laarzen sighed. "It seems your sister and I have something in common. We both forget to be nice because we're stressed."

"Remind me never to stress you out…" Dulurza grunted, before looking across at Mirri. "Also, you. Mind explaining to me why you've been doing warm-up exercises for the past five minutes?"

"Hm? Oh, right, that." Mirri came out of what looked like a very angry silence to reply. As she spoke she widened her stance, putting her weight firstly on one knee, then the other. "I'm about to try and escape. Want to be ready to take off at a run, so to speak."

"Oh, great…" Dulurza reached to one side and picked her axe up, standing and looking pointedly at the cage. "Alright, any time's good. But I will have to stop you and it will hurt."

"Aren't you considerate!" Mirri turned and moved over to her back wall, started knocking on the bricks.

Xander perked up at seeing the axe. "Oh yeah, I never got to ask. How's that working for you?"

"Great! The enchantment's ridiculously strong." Dulurza twisted it in her hands. "Won't I have to recharge it often, though?"

"Nah, you're fine. It does a partial soul trap on anything you kill with it, snatches some energy back. So long as you kill things that aren't people sometimes, you'll be fine."

"Good stuff." Dulurza glanced back at Mirri. "You okay over there?"

"I'm trying to trigger my breakout!" Mirri explained. "I thought it would be back here, but—" She took a few steps backwards, then jumped forwards and kicked the wall. Nothing happened.

"You know there's just dirt behind there, right? We're underground." Dulurza pointed out.

"Really? Ah, drat." Mirri huffed. "So what do you think he…Oh, hold on."

She let out a high pitched whistle.

Her cell exploded.

Dulurza went flying backwards, slamming into the door of another empty cell and-

"DAMNIT NOT AGAIN!" She roared, blinking against the smoke.

Rapid footsteps approached, and she shook her head to clear it just in time to see Mirri darting past her and beelining for the stairs.

"Preset—gack—exploding spider!" L'laarzen shouted, stumbling to her feet. "Mirri cultivates them, it was one of our favourite tricks!"

The explosion looked to have started on the balcony just above Mirri's cell. It had sent burning splinters everywhere and bent the bars out of shape, allowing her space to clamber out.

L'laarzen and Xander's cell, however, was mostly undamaged.

"I don't have the key!" Dulurza called to them, hesitating to rush over. "Can you pick it?"

"Already did!" L'laarzen pulled Xander to his feet, then simply unlatched the door to her cell. "GO!"

Dulurza didn't need any more prompting, taking off up the stairs after Mirri.

"Get after her!" Xander yelled, following L'laarzen out of the cell.

"No!" L'laarzen shouted back, still running. "Dulurza has her! We go!"

"What? Where?"

"The Katariah!" L'laarzen stopped at the exit, turning to him. "Mirri excels at three things. Swordplay, raising spiders, and timing. If she chose now to escape, that means we need to get to the Emperor now!"

Xander grimaced. "Take Shadowmere!" He shouted.

"What about you?"

"I need my stuff! Don't worry, I'll catch up!"

L'laarzen grimaced, and ran.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ

It was an interesting set of explanations that led to Hjar, Thongvor, Margret, and Kaie creeping through the Hall of the Dead.

Kaie said that she had come across this shortcut when her group had moved to secure the crypt, and with it, access to the Nzchuand-Zel and the base of Faleen's forces. Now, normally, the great cave that housed Nzchuand-Zel's entrance and the Hall was directly connected to both Understone Keep and Calcelmo's Dwarven museum. This should have provided easy access past the outer door, and left them with the keep's much more fragile internal defences to deal with.

But the Thalmor hadn't been willing to part with that. Their alternative, it seemed, had been to completely collapse the section of the cave linking it to Nzchuand-Zel. That was the response they had already taken to the passage Madanach and his lot had used to escape from the mine to the top of the city.

"Issue is, this collapse isn't perfect." Kaie explained, as they approached it. "There's a gap big enough for a person to slip through, leads right into the entryway. They don't seem to have noticed it yet, but once they do, closing it would be trivial."

"Which is why we need a group quiet enough to slip through unnoticed, but skilled enough to make use of the opportunity." Margret reasoned. "Hence, all our eggs in one basket, right behind enemy lines."

"The alternative is trying to starve them out." Kaie pointed out.

"She's right." Hjar spoke up in her lieutenant's defence. "All we need to do is get those doors open. Thongvor, can we do it?"

"Understone's designed to be impregnable from the outside. But the defences are easy enough to operate from within." He answered. "I've seen it done. Unlocking the door's the work of a minute."

"Then let's get it done." Hjar nodded. "Kaie?"

The Forsworn led them up to the great collapsed throughway, and pointed up to the top corner. Hjar could just spot a hole in the rocks.

"More claustrophobia. Perfect…" She sighed, and got climbing.

Kaie went first, checking that the coast was clear. She was followed by Margret, then Hjar, then Thongvor. Once on the other side, they suddenly found they had to be a lot more careful. The slope was shallower, but there was virtually no light. Sparking off a torch would be a terrible idea, however, considering the pair of Silver Hand men stood facing the main door. Behind them was the stairs up to the keep, from which a lot more noise could be heard.

The scramble down the rocks was agonisingly slow, and every loose rock that they unsettled made everyone flinch. But the main door was being rocked by hits with makeshift battering rams from outside, and the echoing booms created were able to mask their sounds.

"Margret, take the far guard." Hjar whispered, as they started padding closer. "Kaie, wait for her to succeed or get seen and take the closer one. Thongvor, you and I will get the doors open. If we're lucky, we should be able to do it before the people inside notice."

"Good plan." Kaie said, as Margret started moving ahead. "But I got a better one."

Hjar opened her mouth—

And Kaie darted forwards, unsheathing Red Eagle's Fury and grabbing Margret from behind, holding the sword up to her throat.

"NOBODY MOVES!" The Forsworn yelled back, as Hjar and Thongvor both started. "Or she DIES! OI, CRIPPLE! GET OUT HERE!"

That last part was directed over her shoulder, as she maneouvred herself so she was holding Margret between herself and her 'allies'.

The Silver Hand immediately heard the shouts, turning to see them, and one rushed up the stairs deeper into the caves.

The people that came out to replace him…

Oh, son of a bitch.

"Oh, son of a bitch." Said Hjar.

"Hello there, Queen of the Hills!" Called Logrolf the Wilful, with a grin. "Did you miss me?"

8˂

L'laarzen was growing to like Shadowmere, but riding straight down a cliff-face on horseback was never not going to be utterly terrifying. She tightened her Nightingale scarf around her face as Shadowmere reached the bottom of the cliff and then started tearing along the docks, hooves clattering at an absurd pace along the wooden boards.

If Khajiit had a septim for every time she'd been forced to chase a man who was on a ship in Solitude harbour, she would have two septims. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that that's happened twice.

But this time, there were no other ships moving about the harbour for L'laarzen to piggyback. The Katariah was alone on the water, and far from the shore. Shadowmere, however, was still beelining for it.

"Ah, horsie?" She asked it. "This one admires your dedication, but perhaps we should turn and make some distance along the shoreline before allowing Khajiit to swim for it?"

Shadowmere did not turn.

L'laarzen gulped as the end of the pier grew closer. She tugged on the horse's reins, to no avail. "Shadowmere? This one would really prefer for us to—No WAIT—"

Shadowmere galloped straight off the edge of the pier.

And kept galloping.

L'laarzen froze in shock as the creature ran on water, barely disturbing the surface of the river as it charged towards the Katariah.

…What?

"You can do that?" She protested. "Xander never said you could do that!"

Shadowmere snorted dismissively.

"Well, alright then!" L'laarzen narrowed her eyes at their target. She gripped the horse's back, then shifted her feet up out of the stirrups, balancing on her feet in the saddle.

"Boost me!" She commanded.

Shadowmere didn't need telling twice. Once it was almost right at the side of the ship, the horse leapt upwards an unnatural height. At its apex, L'laarzen pushed off with her own legs, in a jump that was just barely able to get her over the railing.

She landed in a roll on the deck.

The entire top of the Katariah was in chaos, things were on fire, Penitus Oculatus agents were fighting sailors, men dressed like mercenaries and assassins, other agents.

Me'Daro said it was just the three of them, what is this?

But she didn't have time to question it. The door leading into the back of the ship was hanging ajar, and more bodies could be seen inside. L'laarzen sprinted forwards, dodging past the swing of one angry attacker and running into the bowels of the ship.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

'I'll catch up'? Are you out of your mind? You give her the fastest horse in the world that can sprint down cliffsides and you tell her you'll catch up? On foot?

Whatever, one thing at a time. Thoroughly out of breath from sprinting just about the full breadth of the city, Xander stalked up to the guards outside the Blue Palace with a glare.

"Believe me when I say you do not want to get in my way right now." He growled, aware of how it probably looked that an escaped prisoner was going for the Jarl's house with murder in his eyes but hoping he could bluff his way through this one too—

"Not at all, sir." Said one of the guards. He stepped aside, as his partner opened the door and stepped through. "The Jarl is expecting you, come through."

"Oh." Xander blinked. "Well, good."

Despite the late hour, the main hall of the palace was still occupied. More guards were on station inside, looking at him warily. Elisif, with Bolgier on one side and Cassia at the other, was stood at the top of the stairs looking down at him.

"Hey, ugly!" Cassia waved a hand. "You look awful!"

Xander glanced down at himself. Yes, the fact that he hadn't changed clothes since the latest debacle at Winterhold wasn't doing wonders for his appearance. His robes were mucky, creased, and torn, and he didn't even want to know about his hair.

"I need my stuff." He replied, without time to waste on banter. "Oct wouldn't leave it in the prison with the guards, there's Daedric artefacts in there, meaning they're with you."

The fact that he could call out to the Daedra in question and ask went unsaid.

"Bold orders for someone who just escaped Castle Dour's dungeons, where he was sent on suspicion of attempted regicide." Elisif tilted her head. "I should have you thrown back in there."

"But you haven't, and also I wouldn't let you." Xander pointed out. "So?"

"My Jarl!" A shout from the doorway interrupted both, another guard rushing in. "Reports from the clifftop sentries! The Katariah launched as intended, but loud noises and flashes have been spotted on deck!"

Bolgier muttered a curse, and Elisif looked back at Xander. "Dulurza trusts you." She said. "And you saved my city from a dragon. So I suppose you can consider yourself pardoned."

"Can you do that?" Xander checked.

"You're in my city. I can do what I want." Elisif shrugged. "Cassia, get him his equipment."

"Yes ma'am!"

His gear was close by, fortunately, as Cassia had lugged the crate to the side of the main hall. He strapped the staff-sheath to his back, slid in the staff of Magnus, readied and checked his bracer, then drew Dawnbreaker and tied it to his belt.

He paused for a moment, hand straying over Azura's Star and the Wabbajack…before grasping onto Morokei, pulling the mask free.

"Still two Daedric artefacts in that, be careful." He warned his sister, taking off at a jog towards the door.

"I'm coming with you!" She shouted, chasing after him, but,

"No you're not." He retorted, exiting into the street. "Not because I don't trust you, but because the way down will kill you."

"Oh yeah, how are you getting there?" She protested, as he veered off the main road. "It's over a hundred metres down and in the water!"

"I'm going to throw myself off and land on it." Xander answered, flatly, climbing the steps in the side of Solitude's wall. The view of Skyrim from the top was beautiful. The view of Solitude inlet directly below was nauseating.

"Haha, great, you'll need to be a bit further along." She watched as he started running, and then frowned. "But what are you actually doing!?"

"I wasn't joking!" Xander shouted back. He looked down, trying to judge the distance of the Katariah. It was listing somewhat in the water, moving as he watched just underneath the arch.

Oh, Sithis' left testicle this is a terrible idea—

Xander took a deep breath. Then jumped.

Cassia screamed his name as his leap took him over the edge of the wall, sent him flying past the further metre or so of grass beyond it…and then plummeting down towards the water.

His heart leapt up into his chest and he let out all his breath in a scream. He couldn't help it, the air was whipping at his robes and hair and it was dark and he could see the chaos erupting on the ship getting closer with every passing second and come on you maniac pull yourself together he reached up with the mask clamped tightly in his left hand and yanked it down over his face, feeling the magical metal of Morokei seal itself there tightly against the chaos of the wind and he sucked in a breath and spread his arms to either side to try and angle himself a bit better because it looked like he might be about to miss but he didn't have time to think about that anymore so he sucked in another desperate breath and then with all his worth Shouted "FEIM!"

His body turned ethereal, he spun in midair.

He hit the deck feet-first.

8˂

There were more bodies in the corridors.

L'laarzen didn't stop to check them, eyes darting left and right as she made her way through, trying to keep an internal map of where she was in relation to the hull as she ran and there—

"VENDIL!" She shouted, skidding to a halt.

Vendil Ulen just sighed.

He was stood outside a heavy metal door, working at the lock with a set of tools. There were two more Penitus Oculatus corpses on either side of it.

"Do you recall what I said?" He told her. "About the leaving me alone or being gutted?"

"Vividly." L'laarzen replied. "Step away from the door, Vendil."

He did so, standing up straight and turning to face her. "You know, I am curious about what led to you doing this. You were trying to stop this plot before you even knew I was involved."

"Killing the Emperor is—"

"I know why, sweetheart, I'm asking how."

She bristled at the use of her old pet name. "Khajiit has made friends since arriving here. One requested her help. You know of this one's tendency to find trouble."

"Ah, I see." He nodded. "Good friends?"

She smiled slightly beneath her scarf. "The best."

"That's good to hear." In a motion almost too fast to follow, he had a dagger in each hand. "If you kill me here, how long will it be before you abandon them too?"

L'laarzen's expression soured. "Khajiit is sorry for what she did."

"Pardon?" Vendil replied.

"L'laarzen was wrong, she admits that." She told him. "She should have told you. She swore her vows, and then she broke them. Khajiit was afraid; of the Tong, of reprisal, of what you would think. But mostly of herself. And so she ran, hoping that she could run so far that her mistakes would never catch up to her."

She looked down at the floor. "I was wrong." She admitted. "And I am so, so sorry."

There was quiet, with no sounds beside the rocking of the ship and the echoing combat up above them.

"…And what difference is that supposed to make?" Came Vendil's icy response.

L'laarzen sighed, looking back up at him. It was all the answer she had expected, in truth. All the answer she deserved. "Only that it would be hypocritical for Khajiit to expect any redemption for herself while denying it to you. Surrender or flee, and renounce the Morag Tong. I will endeavour to ensure your survival."

"And if not, you'll kill me?" Vendil scoffed. "Does that not still sound hypocritical to you?"

"Not at all." L'laarzen answered, coolly. "Our past does not alter what is right and wrong. You are trying to kill an innocent man and plunge Tamriel into chaos. L'laarzen will stop you. It is that simple."

"That simple…" Vendil mused. "Well. That does make it easier for me."

And then he was upon her.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

Landing while ethereal was something else, man.

There was no pain, no jolt, no real feeling of force or shifting momentum. Xander hit the floor and then he was standing on it, and that was that. He didn't even need to bend his legs to absorb the impact (though he did immediately slip and stumble to catch himself from the sheer shock of the drop).

I'm either never doing that again or I'm doing that all the time, and I don't know which yet. Wait, Focus, Problems—

Etherealness dropping, Xander took stock of his situation. He was by the wheel on the upper deck of the Katariah, and there were at least four separate engagements going on beneath him. He was planning on how to intervene when he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

Magic.

He threw himself to the left.

A bolt of green light flew through the air where his head had just been, and he spun to see—

"Octavia?" He exclaimed, then swerved away from the next bolt of energy his sister hurled at him. "What are you—" Crap, the mask, "Octavia, it's me!"

"I know!" She shouted, sprinting at him. And that shocked him enough that he didn't even try to stop her planting her right boot in his chest.

The kick sent him flying backwards with a startled cry, and he went right over the railing, landing on the main deck with a grunt and a wheeze. This one, he did not turn intangible for.

What in the—

He blinked upwards, then rapidly rolled to the side as his sister dropped down on top of him, extending a hand flickering with magical energy. He barely got out of the way, then swung his leg up to kick her in the ribs, sending her stumbling away while he scrambled to his feet.

"Then what in Oblivion, Oct?!" He demanded, drawing Dawnbreaker as Octavia got to her feet. "I'm on your side! I'm here to—"

"I don't care!" When Octavia turned to him, it was with a furious glare in her eyes. "I know you don't want to kill the Emperor. I'm sure you've been pushing some very clever plan this whole time that will make everyone happy and let you look very smug. But the big kids are playing, now, Xander, and I am not letting your stupidity ruin everything! Get out, right now, or I will put you out!"

"Are you out of your—" Xander cut the insult off. "Octavia, you are injured, there are Morag Tong on this boat, let me and L'laarzen help—"

Purple light glinted around her fingers, and within a second she was holding a bound bow in her hands, fully drawn, pointed at his centre of mass. "Last chance." She warned. "Trust me."

Xander looked her up and down. His hands tightened into fists.

"No." He said.

An expression he couldn't read flickered behind her eyes for a split second. Then it was gone, and she adjusted her aim and fired, and he was moving, darting closer as the purple arrow thunked into the deck where his foot had been.

He drew the Staff of Magnus from his back and fired, the blue-green beam blasting through the air and scything through where Octavia had just been. She dove to the ground and rolled, firing again as she did, but the arrow was absorbed completely by the beam.

Sorry sister, but you're fighting the most effective mage-slayer weapon in existence.

Octavia dropped the bow, freeing her hands, then flicked her palms in the air and vanished. The Staff's beam scythed through the bow and the space she'd just occupied, to no avail. Xander swept it left, right, then cut it angrily, eyes darting about. She's just invisible, I have a point-to-kill beam weapon, why do they always find ways to dodge the—THERE!

It wasn't a sound that gave her away. Octavia had sent Synod scholars into a tizzy when she had worked out how to weave together an invisibility and a muffle spell at the same time; there was no way he could spot her. But again, there was that prickling feeling, like his skin was heating up from a ray of sunlight.

Wait. I can detect magic without an actual spell. Like Tolfdir was talking about that one time. I can do actual Archmage magic stuff, it's about damn—FOCUS, LEFT—

He spun, drawing Dawnbreaker and swinging it towards the magic's source.

There was a clash, and Octavia's invisibility vanished. A bound sword in each of her hands were pressed against Dawnbreaker, their Daedric origin letting them briefly resist the powerful blade.

There was a small flash of surprise in her eyes, then she disengaged and swung in again.

Xander backpedalled, gripping his sword in both hands and desperately keeping his guard up to parry her attacks. He was getting flashbacks to his last duel with Julius, as Octavia battered him backwards, hooked his sword away with one of hers, and…

…Didn't capitalise in time?

Xander lashed out with his fist at the inner elbow of her right arm, forcing her to pull the weapon back with a his, and twisted Dawbreaker out of her blade-lock to swipe up at her, forcing her to jump backwards. Eyes narrowing, he pushed back towards her.

As the momentum of the battle shifted, and Xander started developing an advantage even against Octavia's two blades, he realised a few things.

I'm an adult, I've been fighting non-stop against all sorts of people for months now, I'm fitter than I ever was at the Synod. I'm an inch taller than her.

Octavia's specialties are conjuration, illusion, planning and manipulation. Not duelling. She's a soldier, yes, but from what stories she's told, she relies on her trickery to win situations. Beyond her basic training, Octavia's probably not emphasised her martial skills besides her archery. And she was recently injured.

I'm…I'm a better swordsman then her.

With that thought, he shouted and swung. Dawnbreaker snapped straight through both her failing swords with a flash of light, forcing her to summersault backwards to avoid his following swing. When she landed, it was with a bound battle-axe in her hands. That threw him off for a moment, but he'd fought with Dulurza enough to know how to respond, and Octavia didn't have the physicality needed to use the weapon effectively.

He locked his blade in under the head of the axe, then grabbed and twisted its shaft, yanking it out of her hands. She backed up again, and this time he didn't follow, instead re-drawing the Staff of Magnus from his back. Octavia readied herself and launched another green blast of illusion magic at him. His beam of energy tore right through it and struck her full in the chest.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ

Hjar and Thongvor both drew their weapons, looking tensely at each other and then forwards at the party that had formed to receive them.

Kaie had a blade to Margret's throat and a grin on her face, and was manhandling the reluctant Imperial back towards the others.

Logrolf walked towards Hjar, and from his face, one might think it was the best day of his life. He was dressed in black rags, pulled aside to reveal the stump that remained of his arm.

Heh. Hjar thought, distractedly. I do good work.

Stood beside him was an Elf in Justiciar robes, and it didn't take a genius to recognise Ondolemar, leader of the Thalmor in Markarth. Flanking them was another Thalmor soldier, and a Silver Hand mercenary, and…Oh, of course. It was Urzoga, Logrolf's Orc lapdog.

"Hello, Logrolf." Hjar called to him. "I did miss you. Literally. that swing was meant to cleave your head off; it's a pity I only got your arm."

"Oh, gloat all you want." Logrolf chuckled. "But I'm the one with the power here. Take one step, and your friend here dies."

"Wait a minute." Margret spoke up. "Am I being damseled? For the love of—again? This needs to stop happening!"

Ondolemar clapped his hands together twice, a smile on his face. "Well done, wretch." He commended Logrolf. "The extra fighters were a boon, but this is even better. We can kill all the leaders of the resistance at once." He looked to Hjar. "I understand that you are a Daedra worshipper. I cannot allow such—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hjar waved dismissively at him. "Kaie, what—"

"Excuse me?" Ondolemar protested.

"I said shut up, this isn't about you." Hjar focused on the other Forsworn in the room. "Kaie, what in Oblivion is this?"

"I'm betraying you." Kaie said, shrugging. "What, did I not make it obvious that this was what I was going to do? You stole my camp, you stole my followers, and now you're refusing to make the Silver-Bloods pay for what they've done. Frankly, you're lucky I didn't do this sooner."

"Poor little Hjarnagredda." Logrolf crooned. "Still making the same mistakes. You simply cannot pick the right people to trust, can you?"

"Is this the one you said my brother worked with?" Thongvor muttered to Hjar, leaning closer.

"Yep." She replied.

"Wow."

"Yeah." She raised her voice. "Glass houses, mister Wilful. How confident are you in your allies? You do know that the Thalmor will kill you the moment you stop being useful, right?"

"Trying to sew discord?" Logrolf chuckled. "A pathetic attempt. Ondolemar and I have our differences, but we both agree that it would be best to save that discussion until after you are dead."

"Is that why you're back?" Hjar asked. "Twice you meet me, and twice you've almost died. You know, you might have been able to survive another decade if you'd just stayed out of my way. And yet, here we are."

"Here we are indeed." Logrolf was still smiling. "Oh, I have missed your bravado. But I think you're out of tricks, little beastie. Your werewolf form won't help you against the weapons our new friends have brought us, and I won't make the mistake of handing my hostage over to you again. Unless you'd like to reveal a heretofore unknown prowess as a Tongue? No? Then I suspect you've already lost."

Hjar surveyed her opponents. Kaie had now backed up behind the others, bringing Margret well out of her reach.

"You waited months, and came back here just to kill me?" She asked. "And then what? The Thalmor have already lost the city. Do you think you can escape before they break in here and slaughter you all?"

"Kill you?" Logrolf laughed. "Do you really think I would be so merciful? Oh, no, no, no."

He took a step closer. "We're going to cut your new fiancée's head off. And then Kaie is going to take it outside and toss it into the crowd of waiting Nords, and declare some nonsense about the people of the Reach finally reclaiming their place."

Hjar's eyes widened slightly, as she understood. When the armies concluded that she had betrayed and killed Thongvor, they would turn on each other like a pack of hungry dogs. All the Thalmor would have to do would be wait for their enemies to kill each other, and then march out and clear up the stragglers.

"I am going to destroy everything you have built here, Hjarnagredda." Logrolf declared with a mad smile. "And then I'm going to slaughter your woman in front of you. Then, and only then, will I permit you to die."

Hjar took two breaths to try and slow her rapidly pulsing heart. Then asked "Could you be any more of a cliché?"

Logrolf laughed, and stepped backwards until he was once again beside Ondolemar. "Fearless to the end, I do enjoy that about you. Refusing to even hint that things might not be going to plan, even as the noose tightens around your throat. Do you have a plan, hmm?"

"Yes, do you?" Thongvor whispered to her.

"You made one critical mistake, Logrolf." Hjar warned. "You've been very clever here, learning from your mistakes, working to pull apart what I've been doing. But you neglected to realise that I've been learning too." She raised an eyebrow. "Last chance to surrender and live?"

"I don't think so, no." Logrolf declined.

"A shame." Hjar sighed. "Because my plan comes to fruition right…now."

Ah, the age old question. 'Does this Disaster actually have a plan, or are they just making things up as they go along?'

Kaie's a dirty treacherous scheming traitor, and everyone else is picking fights with the Morag Tong. Except Xander, who's picking a fight with his sister. Poor Octavia. You ever watch someone make the wrong choice in a roleplaying game?

Next Time: Everyone's just fighting their baddies, what did you expect.