Ok, I might not have gotten seven reviews like I had planned. However, I couldn't make you all suffer for this. So here is the next chapter. Took me forever to write it and if I am correct it is the longest of all chapters... I think. Enjoy.

-+-

Five days had passed in the realms of the darkness. Hope had been locked within a box and hadn't seen light since. The Great Dremora, Broga, trained with his armies for the final encounter against Tamerial. Their blades were sharpened and their armor polished thirsting for nothing more then to be soiled once again by guiltless blood. Elizabeth was kept locked away within the Watch Tower for she could only watch from the revered casement as this war began to unfold for its final chapter. Velthada had sat close to Xilivicus' side as his mortal body healed ever so gradually. His transformation had destroyed many of his muscles and left him frail and worthless; surely if Broga forced him to war he would die there just as many other men would die.

Xilivicus' once vivacious eyes now dulled as he sat like a canary within a steel cage. His only light sources were two small torches at either side of the room which were fastened securely onto the wall. His lips ripped apart as he finally opened his mouth after so many hours. His eyelids barely held open as he succumbed to his weariness. Velthada had given him many potions in order to heal his torn muscles and cure his loss of strength. The Spider narrowed her eyes and beckoned the Churl tenderly. His head turned bit by bit and he looked at her with those frozen dead eyes. She leaned down and pushed a few strands of thick ginger hair from his face as she whispered to him, "... are you ready to walk, my brother?"

He turned his eyes to the ceiling and sighed sincerely. His crackling voice had startled the Spider for he had spoken louder then a whisper, "In two more days... I shall be sprinting across battlefields with nothing but a sword to protect me. There is no need to train me, Velthada; I can no longer escape the inevitable."

"Don't speak like that," she scolded while standing tall upon her legs. "Your future is not written in stone, Xilivicus."

"It may as well be," he purred while turning his head away.

Velthada's silver eyes sparked with annoyance. She glared at the table and slammed her hands down upon it. From her palms came a fiery blast and soon the table was engulfed in flames. The room lit up like the morning sky and Xilivicus had disappeared from the inferno and stood a few feet away in a combating stance. He breathed heavily as he glared at his Daedric sister. Sweat drops rolled down his pale slender torso and glistened in the light of the fire. The Spider smirked and shook her head, "... you can outlive this war, brother. You have the determination and the divine aid to do so!" Her smile faded and a shadow of grief overcame her. "Why must you hide within the shadows of your own sadness?"

"Because what do I have to live for?" He questioned with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. "What do I have to look forward to after this war is complete, hmm? The future I see is grim with a Dremora as a master and a dungeon cell as my home. The will to live is perishing more and more by the day."

"Idiot," Velthada spat.

The firestorm ate away at the surface of the table and all contents upon it as the couple stood in silence with conflicting eyes upon one another. Xilivicus' eyes held disarray and impatience. Velthada's eyes held a hidden hope and bravery. The Spider bore her fangs as she snarled; disbelieving, "... you have nothing to live for?"

In stubbornness, Xilivicus stood tall with a sealed mouth. The Spider raised her arachnid abdomen and lowered her torso as she readied herself for a charge. In a moment's notice, she had leapt forward and scooped the Churl up onto her shoulder. Her spiked feet were blurs as she escaped from the room and crawled frantically down the hall. As she came to a bend in the dungeon pathway she road high up onto the wall and continued with her fast-paced pursuit.

Out into the night she had escaped with the Churl flailing upon her back, pleading for her to free him and let him hide within his chambers where he had been for such a long time. Velthada narrowed her eyes and she promptly approached the grand Watch Tower. Her eyes were not set upon the door; they were set upon the wall. Her once moderate trot set into a hastening gallop as she crawled up the side of the wall to the tower's keep which loomed within the heavens. Xilivicus held tightly upon her neck as he could see the ground disappear below him. His eyes blurred in terror and his voice had fell into his belly and vanished like a flame in winter's grasp.

Upon the veranda did the Spider crawl, soon releasing the Churl from her clutches. Xilivicus stumbled forward and leaned upon the wall with a heaving breath. His pupils disappeared in a fiery pit and as he turned to criticize his sister, Velthada had disappeared into the Watch Room with such craftiness it put the Thieves Guild to shame. Xilivicus watched for a moment and quickly pursued his friend in fear of Velthada beckoning the girl of which he wished to disregard.

Upon a cushioned sleeping slab did the maiden lay. Her silver locks coiling down upon the floor like a frozen ivy. Her body encased in a thick pelted blanket. Candelabras were beside her bed forcing away the darkness from her innocent body. Xilivicus approached behind Velthada and just as he was to question why they were here; she turned and glared at him. Her eyes were frozen and stricken with a deep heartbroken sadness. "... You have no reason to live, is that it?" She whispered out into the night. Her head turned back to the maiden and tears came to her eyes as she snarled, "... you are so foolish."

Xilivicus stepped closer and as he lifted a hand to place it upon his sister's shoulder, she proceeded forward. Her padded tarsus slid across the ground silently. She lowered her body and placed the palm of a pasty frozen claw upon the maiden's head. She stroked her black fingertips through her silken locks with narrowed eyes, "... for her to live within a peaceful world. For her to live a long and flourished life with the ones she holds dear. For her to remember Oblivion and tell stories about it for many years to come... that is your reason to live."

The candles flickered and Xilivicus walked closer with a furrowed brow and a frozen face. He overlooked Elizabeth and then turned his eyes to the Spider. She looked the worst of them all and softly, Xilivicus purred, "...Velthada..."

"You live," she carried on. "You live... so she may once again live... live in a world where she will not have to worry about monsters like you and I shrouded in the shadows." Her onyx fingertips slid out of the girl's hair and slowly fell upon her abdomen. Her silver eyes fell there for only a moment before lifting back up to the Altmer's soft face. Her black lips parted and she wished that more words would fall from her tongue; though, she could not conjure them to herself.

Xilivicus bowed his head and closed his eyes in shame as he thought about this. He wanted to stay as far away from the maiden so his feelings would not fully develop and plague his mind like wicked barbed vines. As he looked back up he whispered forlornly, "... take me away from this place, sister."

Velthada looked up to him with tears rushing to her eyes causing the silver of her irises to sparkle like diamonds under the golden Colovian sun. "... How can you be so unemotional?"

Xilivicus turned his eyes away ignoring the question rather simply. He hadn't wanted to begin an argument with his sister that would stir the young Altmer maiden. He shook his head slowly but surely. "... Please, just... let me leave."

She hesitated and looked down upon the Altmer wondering why no one had their happy ending. She finally lifted from her legs and crawled over to Xilivicus. The pair walked to the veranda and just as they were to escape into the brisk wintry air, Elizabeth called out from the comfort of her bed, "... Xilivicus...?"

He stopped.

His head pivoted and he glanced back to see Elizabeth pulling the blankets tightly around her as she sat up and tried to peer farther into the darkness. Her eyes weren't as trained as Velthada's or even Xilivicus'. The Spider lowered herself even further and telepathically she whispered into the Churl's head. Her voice echoed across the confinements of his mind and caused him to glance back at his sister. "... Quiet now... she only thinks that she had heard you. She shall lie back down and then we shall leave."

Misery filled his eyes to the brim and caused contempt for his own nature. He had professed his love to this girl many a time and now he was shrouding himself in the shadows allowing himself to become nothing more to her then the darkness itself. His legs were aching as he stood perfectly still in the dimness of the room. The long curved ears of the maiden fell as did her hopes of seeing her dear one. Her eyes lowered and she placed herself once more down upon the sleeping slab. Sleep encumbered her and the Churl made his way to the balcony with the Spider who lowered him down bit by bit and took him back to the shelter of his petite dungeon chamber.

-+-

Standing upon the great fort wall of Cloud Ruler Temple, the Hero surveyed Bruma with frozen eyes. Behind him, the Blades were training with Grandmaster Jaufree. Martin Septim, heir to the throne, sat safely in the walls of the temple with an Arcane University scholar who was helping him decipher an olden book of nonsense. Caldwyn and Orrick had gone off to Bruma to buy themselves uniforms for the war.

The Hero was hunched over the railing with his elbows pressed into the limestone. His fingers twiddled Elizabeth's necklace that he had pick pocketed from Daelon. The divine chiming of the gold against gold did nothing to the Hero. His mind was beginning to warp and his nerves beginning to break. Nothing had ever gotten under his skin like this maiden had. Her beautiful smile... it haunted him. Those sophisticated sapphire eyes captivated and charmed. He clenched his eyes shut to shake the memory from him. Just as he thought he had gotten rid of every thought of her, he saw those fiery tangerine eyes consume his mind. He cringed; startled. That deep purple skin wrapped itself around thin air as if it were a mold. Daedric carvings upon the chest and neck had appeared and gradually, the purple mold turned into the demonic posture of the Churl, Xilivicus.

The knight's eyes ripped open as he had switched from Elizabeth's beautiful haunting figure to this of the monster. His hatred boiled within him and his throat began to constrict. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he began to reminisce upon their fight within the first realm of Oblivion. Yes, he was the dauntless knight who assailed him within the Sigil Keep. It all became clear for him now... the tremendous change of emotions that the Altmer possessed when he had driven his blade into that demon's body, yes, he began to recall.

"... So they had feelings," purred he, "prior to me arriving in Oblivion."

The atmosphere reassured him as the wind began to pick up and toss his scarlet cape that was latched to his steel armor. His gloved hand lifted and harshly shoved past coils of gold as he thought deeper. How long had Elizabeth and this... man... had feelings for one another? Could it possibly be they knew each other before Kvatch was attacked? Surely not, that would be absurd. His paranoia crept into the core of his brain and it began to twist everything that he saw. The bells of Bruma tolled into the air and the Hero heaved a profound sigh as he pushed away from the railing of the wall and walks back down to the temple with a slow and steady pace. The necklace was wrapped numerous times around his fist emitting a soft glow as he walked through the rays of light that fell down upon the temple.

His hands raised and pushed upon the doors of the temple causing them to swing ajar. A few guards glanced over cautiously, half expecting a Dremora to be in the Hero's place. The knight walked forward and with a glance about he turned to the studying Jerald and questioned, "...where is your son, the eldest?"

"Daelon?" Jerald called out into the dimness anticipating an answer. When he had realized that there was not a soul to answer, he continued on, "... He took his horse and left just the other day."

The Hero's eyes lit up and his mind had abandoned those paranoid thoughts as he became intrigued. "He just... left? Where did he go?"

-+-

A very plump velvet carrier fell onto the limestone causing a jingle, for within the container was no less and no more then five hundred golden septims. Before the shrine stood a very restless young Altmer. His once neatly kept hair now fell in coils down around his glistening sun kissed face. His amber eyes sparkling like fire as he looked up upon this, the shrine of Clavicus Vile.

The bag of coins slowly dissipated into a smoke of blackness and a voice rang from the ancient limestone as the statuette of this Prince came to life. A childish laugh echoed around the Altmer as he watched with narrowed eyes and a fluttering heart. Never before had he ever been so near a Daedric shrine. It was forbidden by his father, and for all his life he had obeyed this law; however, now seemed like the perfect time to abolish that law.

An overwhelming rush flooded the body of Daelon as his eyes lifted to that of Vile. His childlike voice whispered through the cracks of the shrine and he spoke enthusiastically to the Altmer, "Well, well, well!" Clavicus had gasped, "Look at this, Barbas! A nobleman stooping down upon the step of my shrine in need of my services! What business do you have with me, mortal?"

"I wish to make a deal," Daelon called up to the shrine.

Clavicus was silenced for a mere moment. That stillness was quickly shattered by his deviant chuckle. Daelon swore that he felt an unseen hand fall upon his shoulder as the voice of the Daedric Prince questioned lightly, "A deal, you say? Why, I believe you have come to the right place! Precisely what did you have... in mind?"

Dark clouds billowed through the sky and Daelon began to feel very uncomfortable before this unholy patron of sin and pacts. There was no time to lose, by the time he returned to Bruma they would be off to war. ... For Elizabeth... he reassured himself, this is for... Elizabeth. "I want you to grant me the strength and wisdom of all of Cyrodiil so that when the time comes to go into Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion, I shall have the power and will to save my sister, Elizabeth Asquerana."

"Elizabeth, you say?" Clavicus gasped, "Why, I know of Elizabeth! The great Scholar of Tamerial, I am told! Mehrunes Dagon won't feel so content when I grant you your wish. Allowing one of his enemies to parade upon the shores of his realm. The cost of such a deal will be great."

"Great it shall be, milord." Daelon bowed before the shrine with a burdensome heart. "In return for your gracious blessing I shall forfeit my soul to you."

"More," Clavicus had demanded simply.

Daelon pulled up from his bow with confused eyes, "More?"

"Yes, more."

"What more is there to offer?!" Daelon demanded with his nerves beginning to break. The winds rushed about the Daedric Shrine as Daelon looked desperately upon the statue with sorrow beginning to fill the hole within his blackening heart. "My sister means the world to me, Clavicus. I need to save her... what can I offer to you? What is there to possibly offer you?!"

"Another soul," purred the Prince with a soft chuckle. "Within the realms of Oblivion stands a Dremora who has wronged me ever so severely. Upon the day of this war of yours, you shall travel into Dagon's realm and locate this Dremora for me," Vile had said and a black swirl of darkness formed on the step of the shrine. It formed and solidified into a black sword whose gleam appeared to be a very royal purple. Daelon lifted the sword into his hands and looked down upon the rapier. He saw his own reflection and heard the Prince speak to him, "You shall drive this sword through the man's frozen still heart and his soul shall be sent straight to me. Do we have an agreement, mortal?"

Daelon closed his eyes and held firmly onto the sword as he called out, "Yes, milord."

"Well done!" Clavicus cooed with a gentle laugh.

The Altmer rose to his feet and looked up to the statue with a question burning in his eyes, "... what if I cannot collect the soul of this Daedra?"

"Well... then the soul of another shall take his place of course! Someone who is powerful and revered in both your realm and Oblivion's. But that is to the least of our worries, dear mortal!" Vile laughed jubilantly.

Daelon's eyes tapered as he glanced down upon this rapier yet again. His fingertips slid across the smooth texture that felt like ice. The Altmer turned to leave and with one concluding thought he glanced over his shoulder and called out to the Daedric Prince, "... whose is the name of the Dremora of which you want me to kill, milord?"

A twittering cackle came from the essence of the Prince as he thought over the question for a sheer moment. "The Dremora you seek is unique to his kind. His heart... black as the tone of his skin. His eyes are as crimson as the skies of Oblivion." Daelon's eyes grew vastly as within his mind he began to see the swirling hellfire of Oblivion and before that great structured gate he saw the iniquitous figure of the Black Dremora. Those sweltering eyes burned holes into his immortal soul and suddenly Daelon grew feeble. His once firm grasp upon the sword loosened. Clavicus chuckled and questioned, "... will this be a problem, mortal? I am sure that I could quickly cancel the deal and your sister shall be lost to the darkness of Oblivion forever—"

"No," interrupted Daelon, "there is no problem, milord."

"Good then! Very good... now... depart my little follower. You shall get the strength you require and in return I shall get the soul of the Commander of Lord Dagon's armies, just as we have agreed! Good luck, mortal!"

Daelon tied the sword to his belt and quickly had he departed for his white horse. He leapt upon the saddle and with heavy shoulders he grasped the reins and clicked his heels into the side of the horse. As the Altmer road off to the path, Clavicus Vile laughed eccentrically with hidden whispers in his mind; You shall need all the luck of this world and the next! By the time he finds that Dremora and plunges the sword within his heart, he too shall be dying of a fatal blow. In which case, I shall get the reward of both souls. The childlike Prince twittered gleefully as he purred delicately, "Oh, Mephala... what an epic saga this is turning out to be!"

-+-

It was the sixth day.

The blood-spattered sun rose over the horizon only to be blocked by the billowing clouds of Oblivion. The Commander had beaten many of his soldiers until they had feared death no more. His heart was swelled with pride and for once happiness permeated him. He made his way to the Watch Room and as he entered the tower's keep he saw Elizabeth standing near the prominent decorated windows. Her eyes fell over this vast realm as she attempted to inhale its quintessence for when the war came she was certain that Daedric designs and structures were going to be seen far more than what she saw now.

The Great Black Dremora stood aside and merely marveled at the refreshed beauty of the maiden. His long onyx tunic still sheltered her body from his eyes and an extensive Spider-silk blanket had been pulled around her arms as she attempted to preserve her vanishing heat. Broga lifted his hand and pushed a few locks of loose hair from his face as he advanced into the room and approached the maiden from behind. She needed not to worry of his barbaric actions for there were far more important things that loomed on his mind this beautiful Daedric morning.

His deep rich voice beckoned out to her and caught her senses easily. Her ears perked and her head had shifted to a side as she listened to him. "... I suppose that you had slept rather peacefully, Elizabeth?"

Her response was silence as she simply looked out of the window. Her body became a frozen statuette and Broga had felt an inner peace for her rebellion and expressed hatred towards him was beginning to fail and disappear in the morning's light. The Dremora stepped beside her and as he hunched over to look at her, his black long claw lifted to her chin. He gently pushed her head to his side and looked her deep within those pools of collected tears. Their eyes were rivals; water and fire, peace and fury, crimson and sapphire.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and as she looked into those scorching eyes she questioned, "... why is it that Xilivicus hasn't left the dungeons in so many nights? He has surely healed by now. Is it your own jealousy that holds him in confinement?"

Broga stood to his regular height which towered over the maiden who was nearly two feet shorter then the Dremora. His hand lifted as he pushed more loose locks from his face. His fingertips caressed past the thick component of his jagged black horns and he looked upon the maiden with a grave façade, "It is not I who hold him down there. He hasn't surfaced because he wishes not to surface."

The maiden's brow creased and she questioned, "Why would he subject himself to that prison? I thought at the least he would like to return and tell me that he is alright."

The Commander turned back towards the window and heaved a sigh, "... you have been a wonderful guest in this realm, Elizabeth. Patient and kind," his eyes shifted away as he muttered, "for the most part." As he glanced back to the maiden he contemplated and then told her, "For today, you may leave the Watch Tower and may walk unguided down the paths of Oblivion. All the soldiers shall be in their battle regiments and the mages shall be training with Elder-Xarovica as we prepare for tomorrow. The only place I wish for you to keep away from is the dungeon. If I hear that anyone had seen you in the halls of the dungeon you shall return back to the Watch Tower until the war is over."

Elizabeth's diamond eyes widened as she fully turned to the Commander with disbelief. He looked so strong and wise upon this morning. Just like he had looked when she had first met him. "Travel unguided?" She questioned, "Shall... shall that be permitted by Lord Dagon?"

"More and likely not," Broga grinned with a faint chuckle, "... but officially, I own you and Dagon shall not order around my maiden, no matter how loyal I am to him that is one thing I shan't stand for. You may do as you wish for today."

Elizabeth pulled the blanket tighter to herself as she furrowed her brow and looked up to his eyes. She watched as he observed his homeland with both an exalted affection and an adored familiarity. Within moments like this, the Altmer could see that Broga was not just some villain who only wanted destruction and death. There were things that he cherished and wished to last forever. Possibly, his role in the war was to protect his homeland and to finally end this maddening war between Tamerial and Oblivion. Within the first rays of light she began to realize there were more accounts to this war then just her own.

"Thank you, Broga." Elizabeth whispered lightly off to the Commander. "You may not think of it as much, but freeing me from this Watch Tower is such a blessing."

"Think of it not," he replied while gripping his wrist behind his back. He stood in attention as he continued to look out upon this withering wasteland.

The Altmer nodded and just as she was to turn and rush off to put away her blanket, Broga turned and caught her wrist. The Elf turned back and looked up at him; waiting. The Commander's eyes shifted between her eyes as he told her, "I wish you to be back before twilight. If likely, I would like my last meal before the war to be with you."

Elizabeth remained in silence for a moment as she considered it. Surely, if she objected he would only force her to attend. He had been kind to her these last few days; possibly she could repay his gracious favor by dining with him only once. Her head nodded and she told him, "Of course, sir."

He released her wrist and nodded in comprehension. He turned to the door and began sauntering over. He called back to her, "If you won't mind, I must leave. My regiment is waiting for my arrival. Until tonight, Elizabeth." He slipped from the room and disappeared just like he came.

The Altmer let the blanket fall from her as she stood motionless in the long tunic. She rushed over to her supplies and quickly pulled sandals upon her feet and sheathed a Daedric dagger beneath the tunic. She might be protected by the word of Broga; nevertheless, that did not absolutely indemnify her protection. Eagerly, she sprinted from the room and flew down the stairwell. The freedom felt astonishing and hardly could she believe it as she stepped upon Oblivion's red soil. The wind blew gently upon her face and she wondered where she should start her newborn freedom at.

-+-

The hours of the day had slipped through Elizabeth's fingers like grains of sand. She traveled to Xarovica's tower to watch as he educated them and taught them how to enhance their skills within battles. The Mages did not seem to mind the extra pair of ears as the maiden had sat in on one of the lectures. Soon after, she departed and made her way to the Clannfear farm where a very plump Dremora prepared for her a roasted Daedric delicacy of Clannfear. The Altmer was skeptic; however, after she had tried it she took a rather good liking to it.

Apart from a few scornful eyes, the inhabitants of Oblivion were not terrible beings. They laughed together and told wonderful stories of heroic Daedra who battled the fieriest of monsters to prove how loyal they were to their Prince. The sun began to sink into the immeasurable ocean of lava being extinguished like a flame in a pail of water. Elizabeth knew that she had to leave before sundown or else Broga would get rather impatient with her. She bid her new Daedric friends farewell and honestly wished them well in their battle tomorrow.

Upon the reddened path did she run to the Watch Tower. She saw the steeple towering into the sky and she used this to tell where she was. The paths seemed bare at such an hour and she was certain that many a Daedra were trying to get rest before their climatic encounter with Cyrodiil in the early morning. Just as she began to contemplate secretly to herself, she came to a halt upon the road. Her muscles stiffened and her eyes widened to some extent.

Xilivicus froze as well upon the road before her. Sheltering his paled body was the heavy contents of Daedric armor. His eyes shifted back and forth for a moment as he prayed more than anything that she wasn't there, but a hallucination. The maiden stepped closer and slowly a faltering smile pulled across her lips as she called out, "Xilivicus..."

The Churl's lips parted; yet, it had appeared no words fell. He stood in utter shock as he saw her walking down the street unaided. Had Broga approved of this? Before he had a moment to react, Elizabeth had leapt into his arms and held him tightly. The barbed spikes that poked into her chest and arms did not bother her, for the joy of seeing Xilivicus could burn away all pain that she felt. Her heart swelled immensely and she whispered softly, "I thought I wouldn't get to see you before the war."

Xilivicus did not embrace her back. He stood motionless as he glimpsed down upon the crown of her head. His brow fell wretchedly over his eyes as he still could not summon a voice to his mouth. Elizabeth pulled away and soon pushed herself up upon the tips of her toes. Her back arched and her neck stretched as she attempted to kiss the brim of his lips. The Churl cocked his head discretely as he wished not to play this charade any longer. The Altmer's thin eyebrows fell over her eyes as she looked upon him with sympathy as she could surely see there was something burdening him. "... Xilivicus... what's a matter?"

"Elizabeth," he croaked gently while stepping away from her. "I have to go train for the war." Without another word he walked past her and down the path to the battle regiment which he would be a part of.

The Altmer turned and a twinge of fear lit within her eyes as she scoffed and a weak smile came to her lips. "... Broga didn't lie, did he? When he said that you chose not to come to the Watch Tower on your own... you didn't wish to see me at all... did you?"

Xilivicus cocked his head and took a glimpse at her from over his shoulder. He could sense the disdain in her voice and he guaranteed truthfully, "... Broga didn't lie."

Elizabeth's chest sheltered a newborn pain as more paranoid worries plagued her mind. Her brow trembled delicately as she sobbed, "... then... then you must be lying..."

The Churl turned fully around with a scowl upon his façade. His structure was heavy with grief as he shook his head lightly and forced her to believe him, "It's hard to look upon you, Elizabeth. I want to be with you—I do, trust me. But," his eyes fell to the ground as he searched for the words. "Even under... this human masquerade I am still a Daedra."

"It doesn't matter to me, Xilivicus!" She exclaimed with aggravation sitting upon her mind and sadness controlling her heart. "None of it matters! ... When this war is over... y-you'll be with me in the renovated Kvatch... as... as my husband."

"No," said he, "I won't."

She froze in place with vast eyes. Her heart had skipped a beat as she could not fully wrap her mind around those words. Her eyes shifted back and forth upon the ground as she whispered, "... what...?"

"When this war is over," Xilivicus told her, "You shall be in Kvatch... and I shall remain within my homeland of Oblivion." He heard her whimper and disagree with him; yet, he carried on, "It was a mistake to lead you on into this, Elizabeth. I wish there was a way I could... but there isn't. I'm sorry." He turned his back and just as he did he was sent flying forward with formidable surges of power passing through his limbs and lastly ending in an anesthetizing stir. He jerked around with spacious eyes as he remained standing in incredulity.

From Elizabeth's fingertips did the spell's blue mist finally disappear as her eyes were alive with scorn and her body was tensed with vexation. She stood to her full height and snarled, "How dare you..."

He retorted with a sharp tongue, "This is for the better—"

"—for the better of whom, Xilivicus? For us... or for you?" She hissed back while coiling her porcelain hand into a fist. Electricity passed through her knuckles as she prepared herself to send another jolt at him in persuasion.

"Must you blame me for thinking such a way, Elizabeth?" questioned he while walking forward. "I am a man of destruction. Where I walk, hatred and blaspheme follow. You are a woman of virtue. You belong upon a throne with a worthy man by your side. That man is not me..."

"Stop saying that," she screamed at him while tossing her hands down to her sides. Her head bowed and she clenched her eyes shut for a moment as she attempted to calm herself. As she lifted her gaze she said, "I won't leave you here in Oblivion, Xilivicus! I love you far too much..."

"If you claim to love me so much then tolerate my decision." He glared at her and threw his hand aside as he told her, "Tomorrow the Champion of Cyrodiil will come into this realm and beseech that you return to Tamerial with him."

"I won't go," she protested, "I won't go... you can't make me leave Oblivion!"

His eyes were empty as he shook his head and no longer wished to dispute with her. He turned away and began walking once more down the path as he demanded of her, "...return to the Watch Tower, Ms. Asquerana."

"... Xilivicus..." her weak voice called out to him as she stood defeated.

He stopped and bowed his head while answering her call with unwanted words, "... if you love me, Elizabeth, then you must let me go."

The Altmer gnashed her teeth together as her eyes sparkled like diamonds with fresh tears. They slid down her rosy cheeks as she turned and sprinted down the path to the Watch Tower. Xilivicus closed his eyes as his heart laid within his chest and slowly returned to its blackened slumber. He lifted his eyes and embraced the thought of death as he ventured forth to the regiment to train.

-+-

Her heart shredded itself within her chest as her feet became wings and carried her across the sand of Oblivion. Her controversial mind was both soothing her and scolding her for ever allowing herself to be smitten. She was finally upon the path of the Watch Tower and from the dungeon's keeps, which was located quite near, Velthada breeched into the wicked breeze. She witnessed the maiden and her heart quickly seized as she cried out, "Elizabeth!"

The Altmer ignored her as she disappeared within the fortress of her solitude. She stumbled up the stairs loosing much of her vigor as she went. Velthada was hastily sprinting after her beckoning for her to stop. The maiden dashed through the Watch's keep seeing Broga standing near a newly rekindled fireplace. He lifted and with a smile he turned to greet her; however, he was greeted foremost with screams.

"You knew, didn't you?!" She gasped with reddening eyes and a faltering voice as she looked upon. "You knew... you knew he would say t-those things. You bastard, you knew!"

Broga was stunned as he looked upon Elizabeth with compassionate eyes, "... Elizabeth... what are you...?"

"Don't lie to me," she howled at him as her structure weakened and she fell feebly to the floor.

Before she had fell, the black Dremora dashed forward and caught her within his heavily built arms. He held onto her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. Her arms wrapped around his back and gripping into the fabric of his tunic as all the pain and misery from the last days had at last broke their chains and surfaced from the depths of her mind.

Velthada rushed into the room soon looking upon the couple who sat upon the floor. Broga purred soothing words into her ears soon placing his square jaw upon the crown of her head. His once saddened eyes lifted to Velthada and quietly a smirk coiled over his lips and within his eyes lit triumph. The Spider stared defiantly and rather hatefully at him for she realized precisely what had occurred. She jerked away from the door and hastily departed out of her own wrath and gloom.

Broga caressed his long black claws through the Altmer's silver hair as he purred into her ear as she sobbed, "... it's alright, Elizabeth."

Even though her hatred of Broga had subsided to a mere annoyance, she was compelled at this moment to grab onto him and hold him ever so closely. For everyone in this realm had betrayed her in one point of time or another. Even Broga, in his own ways, had betrayed her; however, his betrayal was the least of all or so she had thought.

"D-Don't... don't leave," she begged while gripping tighter onto his tunic with a heavy sob. "P-please... d-don't leave me."

Broga grinned and a shimmer of lust appeared in his crimson eyes as he purred back to her, "I will never... leave you."

He pulled her tighter to his chest as he continued to run his claws through her hair and also upon her heaving back. He chuckled within his mind as he purred to himself; Mission accomplished...

--TBC--

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