Above anything else, Larian wanted to know why in Oblivion she was naked.
Never mind the other questions nagging at her mind, such as 'where am I?' or 'what's going to happen to me?'. Never mind 'what happened to Galar?' or 'is my greatsword on this side?'. Right this moment, she wanted to know why she was naked.
She didn't dare call the steel manacles around her wrists 'fashion accessories'. To the credit of whoever imprisoned her, though, she had to admit it was effective; her arms were crossed over her head. She was... well, 'comfortable' was a relative term. At least her arms being crossed above her head wasn't indecent.
The manacles around at her ankles, however, were another deal altogether. She had apparently been forced onto her knees when she was unconscious, and her ankles fastened in place behind her. This meant that she couldn't cross her legs, which, in turn, meant...
"Where is my armor?!" she snapped angrily, not for the first time. She hated feeling so damn indecent. The fact that she was shackled in place in what could very easily be construed as a suggestive position did not help matters in the slightest, either.
Silence met her ears, and she heaved an irritated sigh. They were going to ignore her, then. Again. Even when the peculiar little daedra came by to make sure she didn't die of anything, then feed her... something. She'd likened it to grass at first sight, but it was crunchy. And foul-tasting, but it did serve to eliminate her hunger. She guessed it was food in... wherever she was.
Considering she'd never seen architecture like what she was 'admiring' at present, she guessed it was safe to assume that the column of light, which Derrick had carried her through, led somewhere no one could follow them.
Such as the realm of Clavicus Vile. Even she knew it was a far-fetched idea, and that she was probably wrong - gods, she hoped she was wrong - but it was about the only place nobody could reach her. It would also explain why there were daedra scampered about the corridors beyond her cell, in place of guards. The daedra looked weak, but she knew better than to underestimate even the smallest of them.
She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, trying to force herself to fall asleep. Failing that, she chose instead to examine her cell once again.
For a cell, the material used to build it was... exquisite. She would have guessed white marble - had it not pulsed under her every so often. She wondered if the material was organic... alive. It also felt warm to the touch, further concerning her... but above all else, it felt exactly like stone. There were no sharp corners in her cell; the chamber's walls were flat, but the corners were smoothly rounded. The same held true for where the floor met the walls, as well as the ceiling. The wall to her right was nothing but a window; at first, she'd thought that meant anyone or anything passing by could see her with ease, but in some bored attempts to catch the attention of several daedra as they passed, she assumed they were either ignoring her, or couldn't see her, period. Did such one-way windows exist? She certainly couldn't imagine so, though she could imagine their utility and actually liked the idea. Of course, this also made her paranoid and wonder if the wall to her left was the exact same, except she was unable to see through it while others could see her. It was not a particularly comforting thought.
The cell door was mostly typical; metal bars criss-crossing one another. That was all that was typical about it, though; there didn't appear to be any way to open it. There were no slats that she could see in the door's frame, meaning the door didn't slide up, down, left or right. It also appeared as if the door was not constructed in such a way as to swing inward or outward, as most doors do. There was also no visible lock on the door, nor handle.
It had never stopped the little daedra from climbing through the small holes between the latticed 'door', though, the grass-like food carried along in their tails. As far as she could tell, that was the only way in or out of the cell. Which made her wonder how she'd been tossed in it in the first place.
The corridor beyond the 'door' was much like her cell: that white marble, warm but stone-like material, shaped into flat surfaces but rounded corners. The lighting was what was most peculiar to her, though: candles, hanging upside down, yet still burning as if they were right-side up, on the ceiling. Wax dripped down to the floor, telling her it wasn't she who was upside down... but the wax never accumulated. Once it hit the floor, it seemingly melted away. The candles never seemed to grow smaller, no matter how long they burned.
She closed her eyes and, once again, tried to will herself to sleep. She just wanted whatever was awaiting her to come sooner, rather than later. At the very least, she wanted someone to talk to, someone to ask questions of.
As if on cue, she heard footfalls approaching. She opened her eyes and looked down the corridor, but could see no one. This made her eyes narrow suspiciously. Was it a trick someone was playing on her mind?
"You're awake." The voice came from her left side, and she stared as the wall seemingly split down the middle; rather than fall in half, however, the center of the split was pulled aside as casually as curtains, and a humanoid figure stepped through... wearing a black robe with a hood over his head. He was very lucky she was shackled, or she'd have leapt on top of him, wrapped her hands around his neck, and squeezed until his neck snapped... or he died of asphyxiation.
"Get out," she snarled. True, she wanted someone to talk to... but she would be damned if that someone was Derrick. "But before you do, give me my armor back. Why the fuck am I naked?"
"Why shouldn't you be?" he responded with a chuckle. "Such a lovely body... you take great care of yourself." He stepped closer to her, and she felt the anger melt away instantly; in its place, fear. He could rape her if he so chose, and she was powerless to stop him. Well, she could still move somewhat; when he reached out to touch her cheek, she moved her head so his finger brushed her lip instead. Then she opened her mouth, lunged forward, and bit down as hard as she could on his finger. She refused to let go, but felt a sudden stinging sensation across her cheek; her head swam, too. Her jaw fell slack, and she was faintly aware of him withdrawing his hand from her proximity. It took her a brief moment to realize she'd been slapped.
"Get out," she repeated, this time quietly. "If I'm to die, I'd rather die without seeing your face again."
"Death? No. Death is not your fate." Derrick examined his finger briefly, then clamped his other hand over it; she wondered if she'd caused bleeding, and dearly hoped so. "You have a greater purpose than to be simply killed."
"Joy." She sighed and rubbed her sore cheek against her arm as best she could. "Where in Oblivion are we, anyway?" She decided it was time to get some answers.
"Vile's realm. It's here that the portal into Tamriel will be finished; everything's in place on the other end."
"You mean the columns of light," she muttered.
"Mhm."
"You never told me about the one at Mount Anthor."
"You never needed to know."
She glowered at him, then spat in his face. She felt remarkably pleased when he scowled and wiped it off with the back of his sleeve.
"Why am I here, then? What is my... purpose?"
"You will be the portal's anchor."
Those words made her eyes go wide and elicited a gasp from her throat. She'd read the book, knew what an anchor was when it came to gate-creating terminology.
"Traditionally, sigil stones were required to anchor portals... but eight years ago, Vile, thanks to some unsuspecting help, managed to slip into Apocrypha, Hermaeus Mora's realm. It was there that he discovered an alternate means, forgotten and clearly forbidden knowledge, of opening a portal. One where reserves of untapped magicka were tapped into, creating eternal beacons; one where those beacons had the strength to pierce the barrier that protects Tamriel from Oblivion. He got as far as discovering the anchor before Hermaeus Mora forced him out of Apocrypha... but over the past eight years, he has managed to piece together everything he did learn."
"If he doesn't know the whole process, then why-"
"Because he does know it now. He sent me into Apocrypha to retrieve the book and burn everything else I saw. You should know." He crossed his arms and smirked at her. "You delivered the Black Book into Apocrypha directly into my hands."
She felt her stomach twist into a knot. She had thought Vile was lying to her... had she realized it was the truth...!
"Mehrunes Dagon anchored his portals into Tamriel with sigil stones - long considered the proper way. The problem with that, however, is that the sigil stones were inanimate objects... and could be taken from their place. Thus, the anchor was removed, and the portal collapsed. This is how the Hero of Kvatch closed the Oblivion Gates during the Crisis. Vile, however, plans to use you as an anchor, to carve the necessary runes and sigils into your flesh. His mightiest servants will then guard you, the anchor, and all that will remain is for me to open the portal from this end."
Her face had likely lost all of its color. She felt cold chills run up and down her spine, felt her skin crawl as her part in all of this was revealed.
"In return for my service, Vile will uphold his part of our deal. He will grant me - and one other I choose - eternal life." Derrick uncrossed his arms and squatted down in front of her, so his face was level with her own. "Guess who the 'one other I choose' will be? In way of thanking Vile for his gift-"
"Don't you dare," she whispered, mortified. "Don't you dare make me immortal, you piece of cow shit... I will not accept it..."
"This isn't about whether you want it or not," he chuckled, standing upright. "This is about your necessity to Vile's plan. It won't do if you suddenly die, many years later, to old age and his portal into Tamriel collapses. This way, he will never have to worry. He'll have a living, breathing, eternally living 'sigil stone'. Any would-be heroes who come in to kill you, even should they get past the servants, will find themselves facing an impossibility." He turned back to the wall, dug his fingers into it, and parted it once more. "Now, you'll excuse me. There are still other steps to take before you're... I'll say 'inscribed'."
Her disbelieving stare followed him as he left her cell. Even when he was gone, she continued to stare at the wall he'd left through.
Eternal life, in unwilling service to Clavicus Vile as a... a sigil stone? She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge it as a possibility, but she somehow knew it to be true. It was worse than death, far worse. Death, in comparison, seemed quite inviting and like a relief than something to fear. This 'anchor' business... that was something to fear.
She strained against the manacles binding her wrists, trying to get them to budge even slightly. He had parted the wall; surely she could do the same with the wall behind her...? She had to escape before Vile's cruel plot came to fruition.
It had seemed excessive to Neria. Throwing her into a cell, simply because she'd disappeared from Windhelm for a week? Even when she tried explaining that it had not been her intention and presented Sanguine's artifact, Ulfric didn't want to hear a word of it.
So, instead of a comfortable bed and the freedom to move about, Neria was instead in a cramped cell, and would remain there until Ulfric had further use for her.
Fortunately, she wasn't alone. Nadine, while not sharing the cell, was directly next to her. The two had talked about much, particularly Larian's past.
According to the Redguard, Nadine had been part of a bandit gang situated in High Rock fifteen years ago. One day, they'd come across a lost little Breton girl. The girl had been terrified to see them, and tried running away; Nadine tried to convince the leader to let her go, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. He ordered the rest to chase the girl down. When she was surrounded, the girl begged for mercy, offered everything she had on her back. The leader didn't care, and ordered her killed. Hearing that her life was about to end, the Breton girl made a desperate plea: she offered to join them. She said she knew a lot about various towns and cities, and that she could get the bandits in and out without much bloodshed or trouble with the guards.
It succeeded. The young Breton girl, calling herself Larian Ravell, came to live with the bandits. She served them in the exact capacity she said she would, getting them to valuables, food and the like with the greatest of ease. The leader, who had initially distrusted her, eventually came to respect her and even like her; when she was fourteen, he apologized to her for his earlier attitude toward her and formally welcomed her into their 'family'.
Of course, not even Larian's knowledge of city layouts kept them safe forever. Guards gradually began to notice patterns: a young girl comes into the city or town, visits shops on the pretense of shopping, then leaves with supplies; the very next day, every single one of those shops is cleaned out of goods and coin. Word circulated quickly, and a guard trailed an oblivious Larian back to the bandits' lair.
When the bandits set out to strike a town one evening, there was an entire legion of guards waiting for them. Many fell in the fight that ensued, the leader among their number. The surviving bandits fled east, never sticking to one place for too long. It had been Nadine's idea to flee into Skyrim, where High Rock's justice couldn't reach. Several more bandits fell before they reached the border and crossed into the homeland of the Nords.
From there, they traveled south to the Reach, where rumors of Breton natives lived and under the pretense that they could join them. The Bretons of the Reach, however, were not hospitable, and killed several of the bandits from High Rock; they began to search for a safe place they could hide out. They found such a place at an old Nordic surface ruin that, according to travelers Larian met on the road, was known as Four Skull Overlook.
Their new home was less than optimal, but they made do. Caravans crossing the Reach made prime targets for supplies and the like - but they quickly learned they were not the only ones raiding the caravans. The Bretons of the Reach - the Forsworn - trailed the bandits back to their hideout at Four Skull Overlook after one such raid, and from there, a seemingly endless conflict between Bretons of differing origins broke out.
The conflict lasted for years, and ended when the few surviving bandits - Larian, Nadine, Galar and a few others - decided to take their chances elsewhere in Skyrim. It had been heart-wrenching for them to split up - they'd lived as a family, after all, for several years - but they promised to meet up again somewhere, someday, and reform the band.
Of the survivors, it seemed as if Larian, Nadine and Galar has actually survived to the present day. Galar had obviously become a Stormcloak in gratitude to them for saving his life. Nadine had been reunited with Larian for a time, but left to die at the hands of the Falmer by Derrick. Larian herself had allegedly chosen to run with a couple other gangs after they'd abandoned the Reach... but, well, the rest was pretty obvious. In recent months, she'd challenged bandit leaders everywhere and assumed command of every last gang in Skyrim, becoming something of a 'bandit queen'. Under her guidance, the bandits became more coordinated and deadlier, most certainly giving even the most hardened fighter reason to pause when they encountered a single bandit on the road, for fear there were several more waiting in ambush - which was apparently a favored tactic of Larian's.
Neria still couldn't believe it, herself. Her sister had been alive all this time, living as a bandit... no, doing whatever it took to stay alive. She thought back to the headstone, back home, which had been erected fourteen years ago, when guards were certain Larian Ravell was dead.
"You love her," Nadine commented.
"Of course I do," Neria replied softly. "No matter what she became - or what she becomes - she's still my sister... our parents died six years ago, when the family home burned to the ground. She's... all I have left, and I'm all she has left, as far as family goes."
"Excuse me," Nadine said.
"Oh, sorry. I meant blood family," she mused. "The Ravell line." She leaned against the wall opposite the cell door and closed her eyes. "Do you love her?"
"She's been like a little sister to me, so yes. I was... what, seventeen when we first met her? I thought, at first, that she was just a whiny little baby - I guess she was, being eleven and all - but eventually... well, she proved to be anything but. I came to realize she'd just been afraid for her life - and that's natural for anything that lives. Long as her situation wasn't hopeless, she had no problems hitting someone upside the head to teach them a lesson."
"Like that time she hit the boss upside the head, back in High Rock?" It was a Nord's voice that greeted their ears, and Neria recognized it.
"I remember he was angry about that, but by that point, he loved her like a daughter and couldn't bring himself to hit her back. He definitely learned not to try and steal her apple from under her nose, though, that's for sure," Nadine laughed. A brief moment later, she heard Nadine sigh softly. "What's up, Galar?"
"We've got a plan of action." The words brought Neria to her feet, and she strode for the cell door. She noticed he was standing between the two cells, so they could both see him easily; she saw his expression as grim.
"To save my sister?" Neria asked. Her heart plummeted when he shook his head.
"To disable those columns of light, remove the chance that Vile can get through. Saving Larian isn't part of Ulfric's plan."
"Bastard," Nadine grumbled. "He definitely doesn't care; she's been 'public enemy number one' for a while now, and even though..."
"Yeah. He doesn't care, and said as much. He said... what was it...? 'I don't know where she is, but she is still a wanted criminal. If she's been taken to Oblivion, then it's a fitting place for her to meet her end.' I think."
"He's already judging-" Neria began incredulously.
"Mhm." He glanced toward the corridor leading to the guard barracks, then between them both. "I don't approve. Larian's my family too, dammit, and family looks out for each other, yeah?"
"What are you up to, Galar?" Nadine asked, with a tone that suggested amusement and knowing.
"You're imprisoned for being a bandit, Nadine, so this part's questionable... but you, Neria, are just here because Ulfric doesn't want you wandering. Not fair." He reached into a small pouch at his waist and procured a key. "Even so, what do you both say? Shall we head off and save Larian ourselves?"
"Do we even know where to begin?" Neria asked, heart soaring at the prospect of being able to help.
"The columns of light seem as good a place as any; that Imperial fuck carried her through the one at Mount Anthor. Maybe we can get through, as well... I don't know for sure. Still, better to try and fail than not try and wonder, right?" He stared at the key for a moment, then at Nadine, then Neria. "Listen... if those columns do head to Vile's realm... well, that's Oblivion. There may not be any coming back if we go there. Knowing that... I'm definitely going to try. Will you both have my back?"
"Galar? Just shut up and open my cell," Nadine chuckled softly. "I'd go anywhere and do anything for our little sister - well, mine, considering you and she..." She cleared her throat.
"Thanks, Nadine - both for your help and your discretion." A blush had appeared at his cheeks, and Neria understood why. Then, his gaze was upon her. "And you, Neria? Will you follow Nadine and I into Oblivion to save Larian, if that's what it takes?"
"No, I won't." She paused for just a second to see the look of disbelief flit across his face, then smiled. "I'll take point and charge into Oblivion to save Larian, if that's what it takes."
"Boldly stated," he said, relief washing over his face. "Thank you."
A.N. - Ah, the sisters Ravell.
Larian's finally back in a spotlight, and in quite a bad position... both figuratively and literally. The biggest part of this, for me, was 'how do I make it so Larian's capture was necessary?'. At first, I considered sacrifice, but decided against it; a blood sacrifice is just so... generic. As opposed to, say, carving runes, sigils and other designs into the flesh of someone and infusing the carvings with magic. And thus, the rather grisly and grim idea of making her a living 'sigil stone' was born, and it never once faltered. Add what Derrick's being promised, and she's in for a looong, agonizing life.
Neria - and the readers! - finally learn Larian's past, at least up to her disappearance from High Rock. They also learn what's to be Larian's fate, should she happen to be in Oblivion. Obviously Ulfric's not going to care; she's a criminal, yes, but she's also the one who killed Runael, his friend. Basically, Neria - who would willingly go to Oblivion and back for Larian - needs a jailbreak. No sense leaving Nadine locked up, though... and who better to spring both of them than a bandit-turned-Stormcloak-who's-still-loyal-to-the-bandit-queen? The circumstances are certainly shaping up to become somewhat peculiar - especially so, considering Neria is basically choosing to work with bandits, like Larian did all those years ago. Like sister, like... sister? (Is that even a thing?)
Next three chapters are the last three chapters of Eventide. I may release them all at once, seeing whereas I'll have a single chapter otherwise. Or maybe I'll just leave the final chapter as a cliffhanger and post it a week after Chapters 21 and 22...? (Nah, I'll release 21, 22 and 23 together. Because I'm nice like that.)
-Spiritslayer
