Chapter Two: Worse Off
The stone was hot under Elanniea's feet as she ran for the tower. Sweat poured down her brow as she struggled to keep up with Ralof. She had a height advantage, and her stride was longer, but it seemed that the Nord rebel had more opportunity to run than she did.
The Thalmor did not chase after those who were in their ledger, they hunted them slowly, tipping off guards and whispering in the Jarl's ear. It was much more efficient and much more amusing when the Dominion seemed to come out of nowhere and swoop down upon unsuspecting people. They didn't have a hope in Oblivion of escaping.
Elanniea had only ever seen such tracking once, and it had left its mark upon her. She spent a good four months rotting away in a cell in Cidhna Mine because of it. Ondolemar allowed her one kindness, he ordered her to be locked away, but not to be put to work. The Altmer were above that.
One day, he came to visit. It was the only time he did so, and Elanniea could not deny her foolish hope that he had come to apologize. He had not. Instead, he asked for his ring back, the only gift he had given her. It was not even his to take, it was a sacred ring forged by a High Elf blacksmith. It was supposed to signify loyalty and faithfulness in the coming marriage. It was the final blow to Elanniea's already dented pride.
She didn't look at him as she pried the golden band off of her finger and threw it at his feet. She couldn't stop tears from welling up in her eyes. It hurt too much to move for days after, as a foreign pain in her chest had taken up residence. It did not leave for a long time. Elanniea supposed that it was heartbreak. She decided that she hated it.
The Altmer doubted that there was ever a High Elf lady alive who had been forced to give back her fiancee's loyalty ring. For the hundredth time that day, Elanniea felt sicker than a flea-ridden cur as she launched herself at the wooden door of the tower behind Ralof and slammed it behind her with a thud. Beside her stood Jarl Ulfric, whose gag had been removed.
She leaned against the door as Ralof moved towards one of the other rebels. Suffice to say, Elanniea was surprised at where that was. On the ground was the sobbing Stormcloak woman. A large gash ran down her side that had not been there before. The man took the place of another and hovered over her, holding her pale hand.
"H-He's gone, Ralof. I-I can't believe it." The young woman shuddered, clutching at Ralof's blood-stained cuirass. He squeezed her hand and sighed.
"It's alright, Haema." He said. "You'll meet again in Sovngarde." He shushed her, casting glances towards the Jarl and then to the Elf. It looked as if he was asking permission for her to be there with his eyes. Elanniea turned to look at Ulfric and already found him staring at her. She resisted the urge to glare and draw herself to her full height.
"You are truly not affiliated with the Thalmor?" The king-slayer asked and she nodded. She had made her choice. There would be no grovelling for forgiveness over what she had done. Elanniea believed in second chances, Elenwen and Ondolemar did not.
"That is behind me." She said with a sure look and the Jarl blinked. For a moment, stale silence hung as screams and thuds pervaded the air outside.
"Was that really a dragon, Jarl Ulfric?" Ralof asked in a small voice. "The beings from legend?" The Jarl's mouth set into a firm line.
"Legends don't burn down villages." He replied, pushing the door open to glimpse the chaos outside. He pulled back as a jet of fire was directed at him. "We need to move! Now!" Ralof nodded and gave the woman a kiss on the forehead. He pulled his hand away from her and looked to the other two rebels.
"Get her out. Wait until it is safe and then escape through the south wall." He opened the wooden door a little bit and pointed to the gaping hole that had been blown into the stone. The Stormcloaks' allowed cautious smiles to grace their tired faces as they listened to his orders. He turned and looked at Elanniea. "You, come with me." He grabbed her bound hands again and began to drag her towards the stone steps. "Up, through the tower. Go!" The Altmer complied, sprinting up the stairs.
"We just need to get some of this rubble out of the way!" Another rebel shouted at her, pushing large chunks of rock that blocked their path. Elanniea moved to help him, but Ralof grabbed her shoulder and pulled her backwards. Not two seconds later, the right side of the tower exploded as the dragon knocked it in. It looked around and then opened its mouth, saying a few words before fire engulfed the small space. Elanniea staggered back into Ralof's shoulder as her vision temporarily darkened. There was no was up now.
When her vision was restored, Ralof again grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the new exit. "See that inn on the side?" He asked, pointing to the thoroughly destroyed building. Elanniea nodded. "Jump through the roof and keep going." She hesitated, calculating the distance. "Go on! We'll follow you!" He said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoisting herself up onto the ledge. She pushed off, falling through the thick hay roof and crumbling onto the hard, wooden floor. Still, she made it. She was safe, for the moment.
Elanniea stood, wishing that she could move her hair out of her eyes. Those damn rebels hadn't thought to untie her. It was enough to make her blood boil. She noticed another hole in the floor of the inn and fell through that, slipping in between two planks of wood and coming to a halt outside again. Behind yet another burning building, an old man crouched. He was looking towards Hadvar, whom Elanniea thought would be dead by now.
"Hamming, you need to get over here!" He called to a little boy. The child ran over to his elder obediently and then to the old man, who wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Everyone, get back!" The soldier shouted as the dragon landed on the ground, letting out another jet of the deadly fire. Hadvar unsheathed his sword and looked back to the Altmer female.
"Still alive, Elf?" He asked rhetorically. "Stay close if you want to stay that way." Elanniea nodded and followed him as the dragon took off again. He led her down a cobblestone path and into a small alley between a house and the courtyard wall.
Elanniea felt herself again being pushed against the stone wall by Hadvar's arm. She almost screamed again as the scaly beast landed right above them, his claws digging at where she stood not a moment ago.
She sent a thankful glance his way, but the solider had already sprinted away. She followed close behind as they reached another pair of gates. Elenwen was there, cowering in fear with General Tullius. Surrounding them were Imperial mages casting wards against the dragon flames. It was so hot, even under her rough-spun tunic, and the intense heat only made Elanniea's anger grow. She moved towards the haughty Thalmor bitch, but was instead faced with General Tullius.
"Run, you idiot!" He shouted at her and she blinked. Hadvar stood to her left, Elenwen to her right. It would be all too easy in this panic to break her neck, the older Altmer hadn't even caught sight of her yet. Elanniea swallowed and turned, running towards Hadvar. She would have her revenge on Elenwen, just not that day.
"Come on, this way!" Elanniea turned her head when she heard a familiar voice as they entered the Helgen keep courtyard.
"Ralof!" Hadvar shouted to the blonde. "You damn traitor! Out of my way!" Elanniea stopped short.
"We're escaping, Hadvar, you can't stop us." There was no other rebels around. The blonde meant him and the Elf.
"Fine!" The Nord solider roared, looking to the Altmer. "I hope that dragon takes you both to Sovngarde!" Hadvar ran towards the Warden's side of the keep while Ralof sprinted towards the entrance. Elanniea had made her choice before she had the chance to think and quickly followed the Stormcloak.
Elanniea resisted the urge to collapse onto the frayed carpet of Helgen keep when she heard the door slam behind her. For a moment, she allowed herself to think about what would happen if the ax had been brought down. Her knees quaked as visions of the decapitated rebel flashed through her mind. She felt a familiar ache in her chest when her thoughts turned to the sobbing Nord woman.
In a brief moment of selfishness, she wished that somebody would have cried like that for her if she had died.
The Altmer shook her head. She was alive, relatively well, and going to see another day. While her escape plans had backfired, she was almost free. Somehow, some way, she would find a way to do all that she had wanted to and more.
"Are you alright?" Elanniea turned to see Ralof standing beside her. He eyed her shaking form suspiciously. She nodded, resisting the urge to speak in case nothing came out. "Very well then, this way." He said, walking down the corridor to the base of the tower.
There was no furniture except for a small table and chair. Collapsed on the ground in front of it wearing Stormcloak garb was a redheaded Nord. Ralof's eyes widened and he rushed forward, kneeling down beside the corpse and looking at it with as much pity and affection as he had with Haema.
"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." He told the dead man, closing his eyes. Elanniea was glad to be rid of the blue gaze. They looked like long tunnels with an expertly locked door on the end. There was no way to escape how cold they were.
"H-how did he...?" Elanniea trailed off. She intended to ask how the Nord man had died, but a stare that rivaled the iciness of a draugr from Ralof silenced her. She took in a shuddering breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Behind the guarded walls of her manor on Summerset Isle, Elanniea was a stranger to death. Her position as a Justiciar had not dulled her fear of what lay beyond this life. For the most part, she walked around Markarth, thankful to skip the wails from bleeding prisoners.
Only twice had she been subjected to that. Once, she enjoyed it. A dark room with only a single torch and no weapon save her words made for an entertaining evening. The final time, however, was less of an experience.
Once again, the Altmer shook her head. Being around Nords sent her to that dark corner of her mind where memories spread like an infectious disease. Yet another reason to detest them.
"Here, let's see if we can't get these bindings off." The Nord spoke. Elanniea looked down at her wrists and was shocked to find them still tightly tied. She wondered why they hadn't cut her free earlier.
In a mere minute, she knew the bitter taste of reality. While it seemed her life was worth saving, the damn rebels still didn't trust her. Such a realization made her wince when Ralof pulled out a small dagger from his pocket. She didn't know where he got it from, but the stench of death was on it.
"I won't hurt you." He said, moving closer to her. He gripped her wrist in his rough hand, and with one quick cut, the tattered rag fell to the floor. She sighed as she rotated her joints, rubbing the red line that had been imprinted into her light skin. The Nord looked at her with impatience as he thought of what they could do next.
"Thank you." The look of stern worry on the rebels face softened slightly when she uttered the phrase. It quickly returned however, as he shook his head and looked to the fallen Stormcloak.
"Put on his gear." The rebel ordered, killing the silence. The tone of his voice would have been offensively authoritative in any other circumstance, but given the situation, all Elanniea could do was stare.
"W-what?" She squeaked in a small voice.
"Are you slow as well?" The Nord asked. He voice was filled with barely contained rage, as if the thought of an Altmer wearing Stormcloak garb disgusted him almost as much as it did Elanniea at being ordered to strip.
With shaky hands, the Altmer undid the clasps on his armor, blushing beet-red as she pulled away the blood-soaked fabric until the man was clad in naught but his smallclothes. The blood made the fabric stiff and uncomfortable to hold as Elanniea turned her back. Much to her surprise, the Nord turned as well, keeping his gaze locked on the opposing wall.
She changed quickly, adjusting the straps so that the material no longer hung from her thin frame. Over eight months of prisoner rations had thinned the Elf quite a bit. The fabric was rough and scraped her delicate skin as the prison clothes had. The only difference, she noted, was that the fabric was dark blue. She sighed and supposed she would have to make do as she coughed lightly, signalling Ralof to turn and face her again.
"Alright. We need to get out of here." He said, giving her a once-over, familiar distaste in his eyes. In all honesty, it made his blood boil to see the enemy in his fallen friend's armor. He averted his gaze, finding it easier to bear the haughty Elf when he didn't have to look at her. Instead, he focused on the opposing gate.
While Elanniea was a few inches taller than the Nord, he reached the door before her in a few strides. His hands pulled at the gate handle, and he almost growled like an animal when it refused to budge. He looked towards the door that led out of the keep, but shook his head.
"Gods dammit! There must be a key around here somewhere." He said, turning away from the rusted bars and stalking towards the small table. He turned over plates and tankards, sweeping everything off the surface. The tinware clattered to the floor, making a loud noise that was carried by the rounded stone walls.
"Such anger." Elanniea commented with a smirk on her pale lips. Just as quickly as Ralof had crossed the room, he was beside her again. With a force she did not expect, he pushed her up against the wall, a hand around her throat and a fist raised.
"Listen, Elf," He said with as much authority as the Emperor. "I have more than earned the right to be angry, and I have no issues with striking anyone of your kind, woman or not." His grip tightened around her pale golden throat, cutting off her air supply. Thin hands found his and tugged against his rough grip, to no avail.
"R-ralof," Elanniea choked. She realized it was the first time she had called him anything but rebel. "Please." It seemed that her submissiveness was enough for him, as his grip on her throat loosened. With a jerk of his wrist, he sent her crashing to the floor, knocking the wind out of her.
"I don't believe for a minute that you aren't involved with the Thalmor." He said, turning away to look for the key to the locked door. "The only reason your alive, Elf, is because I do believe that you have some value to me." Even though she could barely breath, Elanniea gasped and whipped her head up to look at his back. "When we get out of here, It will be very interesting to see just how much your kind want for you."
"What?" She asked. Never in her life had she felt such a betrayal. Perhaps she should have expected it, but alas, she did not see it coming. She assumed that her comment was all that dented his pride, and had intended to apologize. She allowed herself to think about the weight behind his threat; she would be back exactly where she was, so close to death and yet so painfully close to someone she might have loved.
Elanniea didn't want to think of being locked up again, didn't want to think about having an ax above her head. Despite her efforts, a small whimper escaped from her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he hadn't heard her as she moved to stand up. It seemed that luck was not on her side, for the Nord rebel turned with a smirk on his face not a moment later.
"Scared, Elf?" He asked with a poisonous tone to his voice. "What could you have possibly done to make yourself fear your own kind?" Elanniea hardened her gaze, balling her hands into fists beneath the fur gauntlets.
"I'm terrified." She replied. Elanniea realized with triumph that she had taken Ralof aback. She also realized how much she was enjoying her petty victories as of late. "As for my reasons, they are mine, but do you know of Thorald Gray-Mane?" Elanniea watched as the Nord man's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again.
"Why do you ask?" He only received a casual shrug in answer from the Elf. "I've never fought alongside him, no." Ralof admitted, "But he did forge this." His hand went to his belt where a heavy iron war ax hung along with a dagger. "Bloody good blacksmith that one, even better than Alvor." Elanniea wanted to ask who Alvor was, but she wasn't quite finished yet.
"Do you know what happened to him?" She asked and again, Ralof's eyes darkened.
"Dead." Was his reply. Elanniea nodded.
"Yes, of course." She said, turning towards the locked gate. Her hands went to the rotting wood, rattling them back and forth. She heard Ralof move closer to her behind her.
"What are you playing at, Elf?" He asked. The authoritative tone was back, but her fear was not. Elanniea felt a familiar, electric sensation running through her fingertips just before she felt the Stormcloak rebel grab her shoulder. She stiffened and whipped around, hitting him square in the chest with a simple paralysis spell. He fell to the ground, glaring at her and attempting to stand. Elanniea glared right back and put her hands on her hips.
"Listen, Nord." She spat out like a curse word. "I am Elanniea Graythar, ex-Thalmor Justiciar. I can rip a man apart with my words and with my flames." As if on command, the simple destruction spell balled up in her hands, which she held out to him in a threatening way. "The spell will wear off soon. Consider it a warning because the next time you lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands."
She let her hands fall to her sides, and the fire faded away. The uncomfortable heat faded as well, along the with paralysis spell. Despite the danger she knew she was putting herself in, she held her hand out for Ralof to take. He took it cautiously and she helped him up. When he was standing, he backed away from her a bit, but there was no fear in his eyes. Instead, she found malice at being matched and just a little bit of... respect.
Elanniea smiled inside her head, but it soon faded as the sound of footsteps grew behind her. She turned towards the wooden portcullis at her back, her eyes widening. She took a few steps back when the footsteps grew closer and began to speak.
"Imperials," Ralof whispered. "Take cover." She nodded, ducking behind a stone wall and raising her hands. The fire returned as she heard the sound of an opening gate. Elanniea's smile returned as well, on the outside for once. It was time for revenge.