"Wake up!"
Elana rocketed to her feet, wincing. Margaret was crouched over, fearfully, as if she was frightened of a pursuer and also the woman before her.
"You have to get out of here, out of Markarth. Your friend investigated things while I watched you. He took it too far. I don't know what all's true, but the guards have proclaimed him guilty of killing one of the Silver-Bloods, the entire organization under Nepos the Nose, and Eltrys. They've thrown him in Cidhna Mine and they're looking for you as an accomplice. Even as I protest, they're blaming the two of you for the attempted murder of me, an Imperial official."
Maragret kept looking over her shoulder throughout her words, seeming to want to throw Elana out herself, but not wanting to cross a heavily armed and armored Companion.
"Question, who are they searching for?"
"'The traveling companion of Vilkas' is what they're calling you. No description or anything. And no one really saw you when you entered before you got arms full of Weylin and a stomach-full of knife."
"Excellent." Elana bent down, grabbed her helmet off the floor, and settled it on her head. "It's high time the Thane Elan of Whiterun and the Dovahkiin, takes his problems to the Jarl. Do me another favor, Margaret?"
"Anything."
It was Elan who stared at Margaret now, scratched voice and all. "Don't mention what you've seen today."
With an almost roar, Elana stormed her way out of the inn and into Markarth.
"A dragon's rage burns, doesn't it?"
She was storming her way up to the Understone Keep. Guard tried to stop her, but any that were not displaced with a kick or punch were blown away by her Thu'um. She felt as if her throat might bleed, but she kept on walking. The townspeople stood in awe, also partially horrified that their Jarl could have wronged Skyrim's hero so.
The doors to the Keep flew open before her. "Jarl Igmund!" Her voiced carried the threat of raw power down the hallway, and the guards scattered before it. As she raged up the steps to the throne, elves who she recognized as Thalmor appeared from around the corner.
Their leader's lips curled. "What is the meaning-"
"Cease." Elana intoned, all the force she could muster behind the one word. To her surprise, the elf backed off, a look of displeasure yet anticipation on his face.
Satisfied, she turned to the Jarl, who sat warily on his throne, houscarl ready to defend his life.
"Jarl Igmund of Markarth, you have imprisoned an honorable member of the Circle of the Companions in your Cidhna Mine. He has been aiding the investigator from the Empire in her work here. You allowed a warrant to be sent out on me, his 'traveling companion,' for being his accomplice, after I risked death to save the life of an Imperial agent. I am Elan, Thane of Whiterun, member of the Circle as well, and the Divines-Blessed Dragonborn. You have gravely insulted me, my Companion, and your own city. Now tell me why I should not raze your city to the ground this very instant!"
The leader of the elves smiled, leaning back like a cat amused by the actions of mice. She started to snap at him, but focused her anger back at the Jarl.
He stammered, "Dragonborn, I did not know-"
"That is not a good answer. Try again, and know I studied with the Greybeards but am nothing like them."
The steward leapt forward. "What about that people that live in the city, mighty Dragonborn? Would you displace them, risk their lives, for the mistake of another?"
"I hear Solitude is a lovely city," she replied in an even voice.
Before anyone else could speak, the elf stepped forward, "If I may interject, my Jarl. I am rather interested to see just how the Dragonborn intends to tear down a city built of rock into a mountain."
She gave him a calm look. "With pleasure."
There was stunned silence. Elana looked between the three that had spoken. When they made no move, she opened her mouth, stretching her neck upwards, ready to Shout the city apart brick by brick.
"Elan! Companion!"
With a snap of her jaws, Elana looked to the Jarl. "And there is your saving grace."
Vilkas stepped up next to her. "Jarl Igmund, Madanach the King in Rags is dead. Several of his Forsworn allies that were with him in the attempted prison break are dead as well, though two escaped."
"You are the Companion Vilkas?"
"I am," he replied stiffening visibly.
The Jarl shifted awkwardly. "I am sorry for the misunderstanding. The two of you have a full pardon. Please go about your business as planned."
Elana and Vilkas both inclined their heads before leaving the Keep quickly. She glanced at him, still in his prison wear. "Where is your armor?"
"In a bag just inside the keep. I couldn't hear any yelling so I figured I should hurry."
"No yelling told you to hurry?"
He nodded. "From what I know of you, when you yell at me, we're about to fight it out. But when you go silent, well, that's when you pull the most devastating attack you can think of. It's quite effective; I just hate to be on the wrong end of it."
"Fair enough. Get your gear on. We're getting out of this city."
"But what about-"
"I guess I'm not going to get a testing ground first. But there is no way I am staying here longer than I have to. I need to forget this place, and the city needs to forget me."
Vilkas buckled on his armor. "Wise words, those."
A/N: I don't know about you, but I hate "The Forsworn Conspiracy/No One Escapes Cidhna Mine." I actually like the city itself.