By the time Ulfric's letter reached Adalla, she'd already lost a lot of sleep worrying. She didn't know what had happened with Mia; she hadn't expected her Akaviri partner to just leave Windhelm, though. So when she read that Mia had been found with life-threatening injuries, Adalla did two things.
First, she broke down into tears. She knew most of it was squarely on Mia's shoulders for being so reckless in the first place, but part of the blame was also on her shoulders. If she'd just... spoken to Mia, if she hadn't slapped her, if she'd just been there for her...
Once her tears dried, Adalla hurriedly assembled a pack and paid for a carriage to Windhelm. She had wanted to make her partner think, to make her realize that putting her life in danger was the problem, not make her do it even more...! She needed to get to Windhelm and, at the very least, be by Mia's side, to let her know that she hadn't abandoned Mia... and, if she was awake, try and vocalize the point she'd tried to make... which she should have done from the start.
The carriage hadn't even come to a complete stop before she jumped out of the back and ran across the bridge leading to the city. The guards outside apparently recognized her, because they moved and opened the gates for her so she could just keep going; she gave them an appreciative nod and continued on her way.
She did not stop until she reached the throne, upon which Ulfric was sitting.
"She's upstairs. I'll get one of the guards to lead you to her."
She gave a nod while he beckoned a guard to guide her, too winded to actually say anything for the time being. He seemed to understand, though, for he gave a nod that suggested such.
Only once Adalla was in Runael's former quarters, during her visits to the city, did she allow herself to sit in any shape, way or form... except she didn't sit so much as she did fall to her hands and knees.
There were two healers tending to Mia's right leg... or what was left of it. Adalla realized, with horror, that it appeared as if several large bites had been taken out of her leg. She wondered, wildly, how she had even survived such a wound. As she looked her partner over, she realized there were other severe injuries... and that Ulfric's letter describing them as 'life-threatening' was completely and utterly accurate. They appeared diminished - she assumed that was owing to the medical treatment of healers - but she could tell they had once been far, far worse.
Mia's right hand was completely gone, a stump where it once was. She could tell from the uneven surface of the stump that it had not been cut off, but possibly... bitten off. She shuddered to think what sort of creature could do that.
There were bandages all around Mia's stomach - and if the small bloodstain just below her heart was any indicator, she had come dangerously close to suffering a fatal blow. Adalla also realized that although the bloodstain on the bandage was small, it had no doubt been much, much larger in the earlier days of caring for her.
There were deep gashes along Mia's left and right biceps - or so the high elf assumed, anyway; there were stitches all along her arm... and there were many, suggesting long gashes, as well. A quick glance at Mia's cheek revealed stitches there, as well.
It was too much for Adalla. This was the worst she'd ever seen Mia look... and it was probably the worst she'd ever look. She had suffered serious injuries before, but nothing like this. Adalla silently pulled up a chair at Mia's left side, sat down next to her, and clasped Mia's remaining hand in both of her own.
This had all happened... when Adalla wasn't there for her. That was not lost on the Altmer. Because she'd made one poor decision, her partner - one of the best adventurers she'd ever seen - would likely never adventure again. Even despite the care she was receiving, there were no guarantees that Mia - the woman she loved - would even live through her injuries... or even wake again.
She released Mia's hand, crossed her arms upon the bed, and rested her face upon her forearms... and wept. There was no heavy sobbing, no sound whatsoever... just silent tears streaming down her face.
Fuck, she thought bitterly.
The good news was that Larian had been right in her assessment. Apparently, nobody had ever thought a prisoner would get the idea to forcibly shift the shackles away from each other, as she'd done. It had not been easy, considering her arms had been crossed over her head, but she'd managed to shift the shackles in the wall so her arms were no longer crossed, then went from there. She'd managed to pull the shackles free of the wall - so while she still wore them, they were no longer holding her in place. With her hands free, it as no difficult matter to unfasten the shackles at her ankles. She was free, if only partially.
The bad news was that she couldn't pull the wall open as Derrick had. The walls felt like stone, true, but her fingers were able to dig, ever-so-slightly, into the material, such that she could actually make an indent. That, unfortunately, was all she could do. There was no budging the wall anywhere. Even the other two walls had the same sort of thing, but they, too, refused to budge.
At least she could stretch out her arms and legs again - not to mention close her legs for a change. That forced stance had been far too uncomfortable, and for more than one reason. She hugged her knees to her chest and sighed quietly. She just had to wait for... something. Derrick to visit so she could strangle him, a stray daedra to come too close to the latticed bars, herself to nod off and wake up- no, the last one, she didn't want to do. Now, she was afraid that if she did, she'd wake up in that humiliating position again - if not a more humiliating one. She had to force herself to stay awake.
Easier said than done. There was nothing to do. The bindings at her wrists weren't proving so easy to remove as the ones that had held her ankles; she wondered what the difference was. The thought crossed her mind that, since they'd been pulled from the wall, they couldn't be removed; that theory fit with the belief that the cell was made of living material, and meant the manacles would have lived, too. Of course, she didn't hold a lot of faith that the material was actually alive, so she wasn't sure what the reason was. There were only so many songs she could tap out on the soft floor of her cell before she-
Her eyes widened, and her fingers pressed against the floor. It was... soft in the middle, unusually so. She pressed her fingers against it experimentally, and found it far easier to push the material in that spot. She began to poke her fingers around the spot; in the immediate vicinity, it was soft, but the further away she got, the more stone-like it became. If she was judging this right... there was probably something beneath her, like a hole. Would it be big enough for her to fit in, though...?
She wasn't going to sit around, not when she had this possible escape route to pursue. Her fingers dug into the floor once more, and she managed to rip the material open. Utter darkness met her gaze. If it was a hole, it was a very deep one. That... was going to be one painful drop if there was nothing soft to catch her below.
Still, the thought of being forcibly given eternal life as an anchor for Vile's portal was not enticing. Between that and falling to her death... she'd choose 'death by fall'. Without another thought, she swung her feet into the hole, then began to lower herself down. Once her upper body was all that was above the hole, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes - and let go.
A couple seconds after she started to fall, panic set in. She was suddenly regretting making this decision. What if she did die? Gods, she hoped it would be instant... but it would hurt anyway, right? Well, so would being engraved with- She tried to force the conflicting thoughts down, not wanting her panic to escalate any further. Whatever happened would happen.
To her relief, she felt her body sink into something soft. Her fall had been broken, and she was alive. She began to move, to try and dig herself out of... whatever she'd landed in. That was when the stench hit her, and she began to gag. Her eyes were closed, but out of curiosity, she opened them.
The only thing she could think of was bodily waste. It certainly looked and smelled like it... and she was practically buried in a huge pile of it. Her body began to react instantly, and before she could control it, she was vomiting.
That would have made the hole a waste disposal sort of thing. Wonderful.
Once she recovered, she hurriedly pulled herself free. Her feet came into contact with cool, damp stone; her hands began to wipe off as much of the literal shit covering her as she could without smearing it over her. Once she felt she was wiped off sufficiently, she began to look around desperately for anything she could wash herself off with... then instantly dismissed the thought. No doubt these were basically sewers... and thus, any liquid would be absolutely foul.
The only way she could see herself getting through this was to take a deep breath, fight down the urge to retch, and hold it. Then, she'd run, and run, and run... until she needed to take another breath.
Yes, this was definitely Oblivion; of that, she was assured. Only Oblivion would have an escape route into a pile of excrement. At least it had an escape route... for that much, at least, she was grateful.
"Damn Meridia." The words were what woke Neria. "Should have suspected she'd have a problem with me entering Tamriel." The voice was one she didn't recognize, but it did seemingly echo all around her, much like Meridia's had at her shrine. The words themselves told her much about who it likely was and where she likely was.
"Clavicus Vile," she murmured. She opened one eye, preparing herself for a horrendous scene.
She was not, then, expecting to see a countryside plain stretching out before her. The scene was... tranquil. There was grass beneath her and stretching out as far as the eye could see; it was blue, but it looked and felt like grass nonetheless. A quick glance skyward revealed a blend of warm pink and orange, much like a Tamriel sky during sunset. She pushed herself upright to make sure she was seeing things right. Another look revealed a tree with ruby leaves looming directly overhead. A glance at its trunk revealed the first Oblivion-like thing she could think of - a fiery crack at its base, flames licking at the wood... yet despite that, the tree did not burn.
"Very good, mortal. It's not often I get... unannounced visitors. To what do I owe the pleasure, on the eve of my visit?"
"I came for my sister," she replied. She pushed herself to her feet, then glanced around for Dawnbreaker. The glowing blade was laying a fair distance to her right; she moved toward the daedric artifact, then picked it up carefully. "And I'm stopping your foolish plot while I'm at it."
"Oh? Well now, that's rather... brave of you to just admit. Not every day someone invades the realm of a Daedric Prince and threatens them. Is it your oath of knighthood that makes you be so honorable, I wonder?" He knew, then, who she was. "Does your honor, then, prevent you from accepting deals?"
"I'm not interested in any deal you want to strike," she shot back.
"Don't be that way, mortal. Come, perhaps we can be civil about all this. Tell me what it is you want, hm? I'm mostly flexible. Mostly. There are exceptions... but anyway. What do you want, mortal? Ask, and I shall see about granting it."
Every fiber of her being told her not to give in, that he could not be trusted. Even so, if she could just get in and out...
"I want my sister back, Clavicus. I want her back in Tamriel... back home, where she belongs."
"Well now, that wasn't so hard, was it mortal? As it stands, mortal, I am open to negotiation on that front."
"I also want you to stay out of Tamriel."
"Hmm... I'll take it into consideration. One thing at a time, mortal. Let's negotiate for your sister, mm? As it stands, I don't know where she is."
"Liar!" she shouted, gaze snapping skyward.
"Come now, I don't! Well... alright, I do. She escaped the cell she was being kept in, and is somewhere in the sewers. She's free of captivity, at any rate. Relatively speaking. Alright, you want her back. I'm willing to accommodate your request... on one condition. You, mortal, must retrieve her."
"What's the catch?" she asked. It sounded far too good to be true.
"My servants will be impeding you, every step of the way. If you can succeed in reaching her, I'll permit you to guide her, unopposed, back to this tree, and she'll go back to Tamriel. Deal?"
There was a catch. There had to be a catch. Neria knew this with all she was, but she could not identify it.
"And... if I fail to reach her?"
"You will either be dead or a prisoner for the rest of your miserable, mortal life. It all depends on which of my servants is the one that strikes you down, in such a case. Oh, and obviously, your sister will remain trapped here, though I suppose that's a given."
She sighed heavily, weighing the pros and cons of it.
"...Deal."
"Excellent! Now, onto the other side of your... request. You know, where you want me to stay out of Tamriel?" A chuckle rang through the air. "No deal, mortal. That is one thing I will fight for to the bitter end. You understand, of course; these opportunities are rare for a Daedric Prince such as myself. Ah, Tamriel... quite the stomping ground..."
"Then I shall find Derrick and take his head off, and deny you the chance," she snapped. "One way or another, Clavicus Vile, you will not enter Tamriel!"
"Bold, mortal. I like you. Now, if you'd turn your attention south... that is, behind you." When she did so, she saw a bizarre structure, seemingly created of white marble... but the corners were rounded. "The only way into the sewers where your sister is hiding lies within that structure. Many of my servants also patrol its halls, and you are very likely to run into several of them. Good luck, mortal."
A.N. - Here we are, my friends... the eve of the end.
As an aside, I DID warn against reading this chapter with a full stomach if you get queasy easily, yes? Yeah, Larian dropping into literal shit was the part I was warning about. That and her throwing up, but still. I hope it wasn't extremely off-putting, but there wasn't much else I could imagine sticking that far below her.
I also DID mention Mia wouldn't likely be fighting again, yes? She's right-handed, so missing her right hand is... pretty huge. As is the state of her leg; she uses it to lead a lot of things, such as a dash, a charge, a retreat... And Adalla? Oh, Adalla. She's not going to forgive herself for this lapse in her own judgment... not anytime soon, anyway, and not unless Mia can find it in herself to forgive the high elf, as well.
Neria, Neria, Neria... it's a deal with a Daedric Prince that started all this madness! What are you thinking?! At this point, she's thinking that if she can save Larian, find Derrick and kill him, she can interfere with Vile's plan. He's been honest with her, too... if a bit vague. Oh, that's right; there's something he didn't share with Neria about Larian...
The end is nigh. Accompany me in its passing, if you like.
-Spiritslayer
