Tweaked/Fixed as of 19-08-2015

Important warning before you read this. It is graphic in the torture department in my opinion, so you have been warned.

I shan't spoil too much, but I hope I meet up with the standards of the expectations you may or may not have.


The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 14

Malborn's fingers nervously drummed against the mug of ale he held while he stayed on the lookout for this…contact of Delphine's. He saw a handful of familiar faces in the Winking Skeever of Solitude, but this was the capital of Skyrim and despite the civil war, it had been as busy as ever, and the city was teeming with merchants, diplomats, politicians and Imperial Legionnaires.

"Malborn, is it not?" He jumped in his seat and his head shot to look over his shoulder to see the Dark Elf behind him, who stood leaning against the wall. The Wood Elf had specifically sat down where he had so he could see everyone come in and out, yet, he hadn't seen the Dark Elf enter or approach. Save for the dim glow of his red eyes and the shimmer of his golden earrings, the Dark Elf was nearly invisible as the shadows seemed to embrace him.

"You're the one she sent?" He swallowed, nervous and regarded him. This guy was trouble. No doubt about it. "I hope she knows what she's doing…"

The Wood Elf cast a nervous glance back at the Inn and its guests. No one had seen him or the Dark Elf talk. Nor had anyone followed him here, and nobody paid the two elves any heed, if they could even see the other.

"Let's make this quick." The Dark Elf's eyes narrowed. "Can you get me in or not?"

"Not while you're armed to the teeth like that." Malborn snorted. "They'd pick you out at the entrance. It's heavily guarded, and I make no exaggerations."

"I'm aware, I've taken a gander at the place." With his foot, Ganir shoved a leather bag under Malborn's seat. "Make sure you don't get it anywhere near the fire. The rest should be taken care of."

"It should be, if you don't muck it up." Malborn was hesitant to even pick the bag up, but he lifted it over his shoulder. What in the names of…What was in this thing?! It smelled weird…
"I don't know what you and her are planning, but I hope you know they doubled the guard because of the last incident."

When no response came, Malborn looked behind him. The Dark Elf was gone and nowhere to be seen.

What did I get myself into?!


Evening had fallen, along with another bloody load of snow. Elenwen scowled. As fine as the food had been and as exquisite as the wine was, she was itching to be done and over with these trivialities. While she hadn't let on, the arrival of Lord Exarch Taurmillan Highal had been sudden and unexpected. It unnerved her. She knew better than to try a superior's patience by prying, (and it was saying something she felt intimidated by him) but she knew that something big was going on.

First dragons, then this Lord Exarch appears for the College…She took a thoughtful sip of her wine. Ancano would no doubt eventually break, whether it was by Rulindil's hands or her own, and she very much preferred it to be at her own hands before getting rid of him.

She had barely listened to Maven Black-Briar from Riften, but nodded and smiled. "But of course, Maven, we understand the pressing needs for such matters to be handled accordingly," she agreed. Auri-El knew to what, however, but it completely lost her interest as she looked past the black-haired woman and spotted quite the interesting sight.

A Dark Elf, clad in exquisite dress-robes befitting a Redoran Council Lord. He was handsome, for a Dark Elf, with a trimmed beard, moustache and long, pitch-black hair bound in the traditional Dunmer style. His face was gaunt, with prominent cheekbones and sunken cheeks. His red eyes seemed to bore holes in her when their eyes met and it gave her an unexpected chill.

Interesting…I've seen you before…

The Dunmer gave Razelan a curt nod before walking away.

Auri-El, Razelan...She grit her teeth. He'd better not have offended a guest…again.

She joined the mysterious Dark Elf and when she came close, her nose caught the alluring scent of the Telvanni Bug Musk he wore.

"A most pleasant evening to you, good Sir, I believe we have not yet been introduced properly. I am First Emissary and Ambassador Elenwen." He regarded her disdainfully with his piercing eyes, but shook her hand nevertheless.

"Serjo Mathendis." He stared holes into her very being, and finally let go of her hand.

"I see…" She stared him down just as hard. Who was he? "I am quite sure it must have been quite the journey for you to grace me with your presence. What brings you all the way here, actually? I-,"

"What? What do you mean you refuse to serve me Arenthian Red?! Do you even know who I am you scrawny little sandworm?!" Razelan bellowed.

Fucking…Razelan. Elenwen grit her teeth.

"Forgive me, please, Sir!" Malborn had frozen, horrified he had not just upset a guest, but that it most likely would have repercussions for him once the party was over. Elenwen wasn't one to take kindly to a scene.

All heads turned and Elenwen's jaw clenched, but managed to maintain her composure as she paced over to Malborn. "What do you think you're doing?" She hissed, barely audible but to Malborn and Razelan. "Serve him the Arenthian Red. Right. Now." You incompetent mongrel. How dare you humiliate me in front of my guests?!

"Yes, of course Milady Elenwen. A thousand apologies. A thousand apologies to you and Sir Razelan." Malborn's hands shook as he poured the Arenthian Red for him and Elenwen.

"Razelan, I apologize for the misunderstanding. Please, can we just forget about this and enjoy our wine for the eve?" She said to the Redguard, who had calmed down quite fast. She put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the guests again to mingle. She looked for the mysterious 'Serjo Mathendis', but no doubt he'd gone outside to the balcony. She'd have to look for him later once she got this matter settled and smoothed over.


"Are you trying to get me killed?!" Malborn was still pale and stood shaking, clenching his chest with one hand as he felt his heart was about to burst from his chest. He was terrified.

"You told me to cause a distraction, so I did." Ganir said dryly as he angrily stuffed the dress-robes in a barrel. I can't believe I was made to wear this ridiculous get-up! He fastened the laces of his boots and sheathed his daggers before peering into his bag to make sure his supplies were in order, and the surprise he'd prepared. The best for last. He thought with a smirk.

"I need to get back before Elenwen notices I'm gone!" Malborn was clearly growing more skittish by the second and he felt like he was going to throw up. "Come on. Go!"

"Be prepared to run if it goes haywire." Ganir said and he went through the door that Malborn held open for him, locking it shut behind him the moment Ganir had passed.

Now that he was alone, of sorts, Ganir felt that rush again. It had been years, but it was second nature to him and as he snuck further into the Embassy, he left a trail of silent death in his wake as he satisfied his burning hunger for blood and vengeance.

He had just pulled a guard into the pantry after snapping his neck, when he was forced to catch the corpse mid-drop as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He held his breath and his ears perked.

Two. He counted. One in robes. As he heard the familiar rustle of leather like Ancano's robes. The other…A servant? Hrmm…

He grit his teeth as he not only had to hold the dead elf, but also had to make sure the armor didn't rattle of clank. He couldn't exactly afford to have them raise the alarm.

"But I need that money! I earned it. I have my own expenses you know?" Came the man's subservient plea. It made Ganir's skin crawl in disgust. The Thalmor had many eyes and ears across the lands, including humans, like this greasy-haired Nord. Traitor of your own kind…I should gut you.

"Silence!" hissed another voice. "Do not presume, Gissur. You are of use to me but do not forget that you are expendable."

"But Rulindil, no one else brought you such valuable information as I have. I made Etienne talk about the old man, did I not?" Gissur pressed on.

"Don't. Push. It." Rulindil growled. By the rustling sound of clothes and Gissur's gulp, the Thalmor had no doubt grabbed the greasy Nord by the collar of his filthy, ragged clothes. "You'll get your money when we confirm his story, as we agreed."

Ganir then heard another rustle. Rulindil had swiped his gloves clean. Probably disgusted.

"So he has talked!" Gissur sounded triumphant. "I knew it!"

"Everyone talks in the end," came Rulindil's dark and grim chuckle. "Even our new guest will soon find out."

"You mean the rat? Ancano?"

Ganir dug his teeth in the dead elf's neck as his blood began to boil in silent rage and he had to contain himself. They did have Ancano. They had betrayed him. And the more he heard, the more furious he got.

"Yes, I've but just begun. It's quite…amusing to see him fall from grace as I break and burn him bit by bit." Rulindil spoke as if it was the most common daily state of affairs for him…It most likely was. "He has yet to talk though, but all in time."

"I…I could help you." Gissur quipped in a repulsive, crawling fashion. "I'd show 'im!"

"You'd do well to remember your place, human and know that this is a matter for the Thalmor." Rulindil shoved something into Gissur's hands. "Take these dossiers to Her Ladyship's office and be gone."

Ganir pushed himself against the wall as Gissur, swearing under his breath, passed the pantry and walked into Elenwen's office, of which the entry was sided by the statues of eagles, and then left. Ganir slowly and silently dropped the dead guard to the floor and peeked around the corner. He just caught a glimpse of Rulindil who made his way up a separate stairway.

If I get my claws on you, Thalmor filth…But… He glanced in the direction of Elenwen's office where Gissur had gone earlier. First things first.


I couldn't let it happen again…I know you don't need my help or protection…Winterhold will always be a safe haven for you, Ancano…

Her voice kept him sane. Though he had only been here for a few days, Rulindil had been merciless and relentless in his torture methods and it seemed to last for ages until Ancano could finally take no more and passed out. His mouth and throat were parched dry and he was starving for food, though he doubted he could eat anything if he was given any. His body was bathed in cold sweat and burned the fresh lacerations. He could feel the warm blood seep from the wounds. He couldn't feel his face anymore, nor could he think clearly; no doubt an effect from the poison that had been forced down his throat so he couldn't cast in case a silencing spell wore off.

"Let's go over this again, shall we?"

Ancano's stomach churned, but eased in morbid relief as Rulindil occupied himself in satisfying his sadistic needs with the Breton in the cage next to his. The High Elf closed his eyes, wincing and furrowing his brow in concentration to drown out the Breton's shrieks and cries for mercy.

"I swear, I've told you all I know!" Etienne gagged and gasped for air. "His name's Esbern. Weird, old guy. Hides in the Ratway Vaults. It's all I know-AUGH!"

Lightning crackled from Rulindil's fingers and tore at the Breton's body until Ancano heard no more. Was he dead? Rulindil emerged from the cage, wiping the blood from his gloves with a rag he discarded. "Pathetic. Weak…" His lips curled as he glanced at Ancano. "Ah, Ancano...Mighty, noble Ancano of Winterhold…How about we have a little chat again?"

"Even if you find anything, it's beyond your reach… or understanding, for that matter. You'll not hear it from me." Ancano defiantly glared up at Rulindil with what little strength he still had. He was still not sure whether he was defiant out of spite or because he felt a degree of loyalty to Cirilonde and the College. Not that they would ever know…

"We'll see." Rulindil pulled Ancano's head back by the hair. "The Lord Exarch will get to the bottom of it, no doubt. In the meantime, I'll make sure to find out what else you've hidden from us."

He tried to fight it, but as the lightning surged through his body and fire lashed at his flesh, Ancano howled in pain. Rulindil laughed as he mocked and taunted him. Black dots danced before Ancano's eyes and he knew it wouldn't be long before he lost consciousness again, but Rulindil suddenly stopped. Ancano slumped in the chains that restrained him and he struggled to follow what happened, but he heard the clatter of armor. Once…Twice…Thrice…Three guards. Down. Dead. Rulindil had spun around as he heard the spatter of their blood.

Before the Third Emissary could even make to taunt, a red-eyed shadow lunged for him, side-stepped and grabbed Rulindil's arm, tearing it from its socket, but no cries, threats or other sounds escaped Rulindil's lips as a dagger was rammed into his throat, which was ripped out shortly afterwards..

It was Ganir…He had never been so terrified of such a gruesome sight, but at the same time, felt so relieved. She knew…She must have...

"Ancano…" Ganir knelt down before him. The vampire reeked of blood and his entire body was bathed in it. He shuddered to think of the terrible fate that had befallen his victims, but he felt no remorse or pity. They had all turned on him…and for what? "Hey…" Ganir tapped his cheek. "Look up. Can you hear me? Let me get you out those chains."

Ganir caught him once he freed Ancano from his bonds, who had no strength left in his body. He made to speak, but blood spat from his mouth as he burst into a coughing fit. "Ondolemar…" Ancano gasped for air. "Markarth." Cirilonde…Darkness.

Ganir swore, but was relieved to find that Ancano was still alive, but unconscious. After throwing some dirty rags over Ancano to keep him somewhat warm, he threw the High Elf over his shoulder and looked for the hatch Malborn had mentioned. "You had better hang in there." He told the unconscious Ancano. "I went through a lot of effort to get your pompous ass out of this mess."

Logically, no response came, which kind of saddened him. It was a miracle Ancano was even alive given the state he was in. He found the hatch hidden away under a thick layer of straw and he raised it. Azura be praised if I will ever get this stench out my armor…or hair… Reluctant but with caution, Ganir lowered himself down the hatch before dragging Ancano down and slinging him over his shoulder again and waded through the knee-height layer of blood, bone and other vile remains before he got out and walked out through a passage, where he was greeted by the cold night air.

There, Delphine stood waiting for him, seated on the horse cart with the reins in hand, accompanied by a furious Malborn. But when he saw the Dark Elf was drenched in blood, he knew better than to open his mouth.

"Have you any idea that they can be here any minute?!" Delphine exclaimed, swearing and cursing like he'd never heard any Breton woman do. "What were you thinking?!" The fact he just casually looked up to the Embassy without saying anything, only infuriated her more.

"Three…Two….One…"

"What in the-," Delphine and Malborn's eyes widened in horror when an explosion shook the Embassy's walls and a gout of white-hot flame erupted from Elenwen's solar, blasting a hole in the wall. Debris was sent flying everywhere and glass shattered everywhere.

"Hrm…guess I overdid it on the fire salts." Ganir observed dryly. "Oh well, it'll buy us some time."

"DID YOU JUST BLOW UP ELENWEN'S SOLAR?!" Malborn's voice pitched as he bellowed his disbelief. He was dead. He was so, so dead if they ever caught him. No, he'd be lucky if he died.

Ganir obviously wasn't too fussed and he laid Ancano down on the furs in the cart. "Like I said, they'll be occupied for the time being. Let's get going. To Markarth."

She knew they didn't have the time to argue, and Delphine clenched her jaw, still furious with Ganir for taking such a risk. And for who? Some fucking High Elf who was a Thalmor. Ganir made sure Ancano was warm and hidden away in the furs that lay in the cart and then climbed into the empty crate himself. They made it away from Solitude, but once on they reached the deserted roads, far away from Solitude, Delphine halted the cart. It was silent, save for the howl of wolves in the distance. Even from here, the thick, white smoke that emanated from the Embassy was visible.

"I can't go further from this point," Delphine shook her head. "I can't risk it."

"It's fine," Ganir climbed out of the crate and stretched his long legs. He had worse rides, but it hadn't been comfortable. His spine cracked so loudly it made Malborn jump.

"Do you have any idea what danger the both of you put me in?" Malborn had been quiet, but shaking with silent rage. The casual demeanor of the Dark Elf set him off. "I was lucky to get out. Elenwen was furious! I am so dead…"

"And so is Ancano if we don't make it to Markarth," Ganir crossed his arms over his chest. "Think of the Thalmor what you will, but he's not like them." Seriously, did I just say that out loud? Urgh, never mind, I'll punch him when he's better to compensate.

"You'll have to take him there yourself then, Dragonborn." Delphine climbed off the cart. "I'll meet you again in Riverwood…I mean, you did find something, right?"

"You'll hear from me when he's made it." He was angry. He had risked his neck for her 'information'. Granted, he had managed to save Ancano in the progress, his main objective but for so far, after all he'd been through, Delphine had not once repaid or thanked him. Hell, working with her hadn't paid off at all.

"I'll take you," said Malborn. "On the condition that you better help me get the hell out of Skyrim."

"They'll be able to help you. So you better get going." Ganir paid Delphine no further heed. Malborn took the reins and they rode off again. After he was sure Malborn wasn't playing tricks and wouldn't, he climbed into the cart to tend to Ancano. He wasn't much of a healer, but he had brought some potions, anticipating this. It wasn't enough to restore Ancano, but it was enough to buy them time.

You really shouldn't make a habit out of this. He thought. This Ondolemar better be able to help.


Taurmillan stood on a plateau west of Winterhold from where he had a clear view on the College from a safe distance. So this is where you have been. Such a dreadful and dreary place. He scowled, unable to imagine why she'd wanted to come here. It was cold and the people were dense, rude and uncivilized. Sylva was at his side and regarded the surroundings with the same disdain as her master.

"The soul gems have been put in place, My Lord Exarch. At your signal, your men will come forth from the portals to take control of the College." She proudly held her fist to her chest.

He but nodded and that was all she needed to know. She retreated into the shadows that seemed to swallow her and she vanished into the cold night.

One by one, the beacons were lit and illuminated the night sky with purple beams as the portals were activated. Taurmillan's lips curled when the silence was replaced with cries of panic and chaos erupted from the College. He made his way down to the streets of what once was a glorious city that now lay in ruin and little of it remained. As he walked down the street, he saw how dark windows suddenly held the glow of candle-light as the villagers had been awoken by the ruckus and hurried to their windows, if not rush outside, to see what the bloody hell was going on at the cursed college this time.

When they saw him, the Winterhold guards ran up to him. "Hold it right there in the name of the Jarl, Thalmor scum! You have no place here-,"

Annoyed that they were in his way, Taurmillan drew his saber. "So your blood it is, then," said one of the guards, but they were no match for the graceful, swift High Elf, who ever so calmly side-stepped the first assailant and beheaded him. Taurmillan then charged forward, gutting the second guard and he impaled the third guard, who made to flee, from behind on his blade. The untouched snow was tainted red in but a matter of seconds and Taurmillan shook the blood of his blade before he sheathed it. After casting a warning glare at those who had witnessed the 'fight', he continued his way over to the College.

In the chaos of the battle that took place there, no one had seen him overlook the battle from the walkway above the gates. It didn't take him long to find who he was looking for and his lips curled. Ah, there you are, my dearest.

She had grown quite strong in the short time she had been here and her spell-casting had become a dance of death. Though his men had the upper hand, Taurmillan had to admit that the pitiful lot of mages, led by Cirilonde and a scrawny old Nord, who had to be the Arch-Mage, Tolfdir, held their ground.

He cast a sideways glance at the Wood Elf, who had seen him right away and joined her Master's side. "Sylva," he said calmly. "Be a dear..."

She nodded and leapt down. Aside from being as agile as a feline, the snow broke her fall. She dove past, under and leapt over the fighting Thalmor and College mages. She rammed the old Nord to the ground and though Tolfdir fought back, punching her in the face, she easily overwhelmed him and held him in a grip with a dagger at his throat.

The moment Cirilonde and the College mages saw their leader had been apprehended, they all backed down and were forced into a corner, huddled together with their wards raised by General Thorelas and his men. "We surrender!" Cirilonde cried. "We yield!" She then yelled in the Altmer tongue. Only then did they relent, but held their arms at the ready.

Taurmillan felt a wicked satisfaction from Cirilonde's horrified expression when he mockingly clapped his hands while making his way over to her. "I commend your prowess and determination, dearest, but I'm afraid that it ends here, lest we need to prove a point, starting with your Arch-Mage."

"Do you know this guy?" Brelyna asked, bewildered though she had no idea what he had said. Onmund's face bore an expression of confusion and betrayal. They all looked at her, questioning. What was going on?!

"Let go of me!" Tolfdir snarled, trying to punch the Wood Elf again. Sylva grit her teeth and sought her Master's permission to kill him.

"Don't hurt him!" Cirilonde's eyes shot from Taurmillan to the Wood Elf.

"Filthy, knife-eared scum!" Tolfdir hissed when the Wood Elf pressed her dagger harder against Tolfdir's throat, drawing blood.

"Stop!" Cirilonde cried. Not Tolfdir. Not him. Taurmillan, what are you doing?! General Thorelas stepped forward and grabbed Cirilonde by the arm and dragged her to Taurmillan. She burst out in rage and disbelief. "What are you doing here? Why are you attacking us?!" Taurmillan but raised his hand as a threat and she was immediately reminded whom she spoke too and she cast her eyes down.

"Your tongue." He hissed with narrowed eyes.

"Taurmillan…" She swallowed and obeyed him. "I beg you…Don't harm them."

"That's better." She winced when he took a firm hold of her chin. "How you disappoint me, my Cirilonde. Must you cross me?"

"I had no intention too. When they attacked, we but defended ourselves!" She was close to tears, fearing what he might do to her and the others. "I would never cross you, Taurmillan. You know I am yours. Please don't harm them. I will come."

"If only your brother had been so wise to know his place and whom he served." He said icily. "But I didn't simply just come to retrieve you to make you honor your engagement to me." His fingers wrapped around her throat. "Tell me, my beloved, where is this artefact that this…Ancano failed to mention to us?"

"Ancano…" Her heart skipped a beat. "…what did you do to him?" His lips curled into a wicked smirk. "What did you do to him?!"

She gasped for air when his hold tightened. "If you are not quick about it, your precious Arch-Mage and the rest of your pitiful friends will follow him in death." He watched her heart break as he had just confirmed her fears and tears streamed down her face. "Let that be a reminder that you. Are. Mine."


Who to hate more after this chapter? Delphine, Elenwen or Taurmillan? Dunno yet.
Fixed the chapter and that damned cursive that keeps acting up for whatever, damn reason.