A/N: Second to last chapter! Woohoo! Hope you enjoy. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Except for Dar'Jazha.
Rating: T for some non-graphic torture and vague sensuality.
For all their speed and relative ease, carriages made for a rough ride. Drogo gritted his teeth as one of the wheels rolled over a stone and the carriage carrying them to Elenwen's reception swayed. Dar'Jazha's ears flew back at the jolt and neither of the two men put much stock in the carriage driver's hasty apology.
"Dar'Jazha does not trust the Thalmor," the Khajiit said, not for the first time since their departure from Druadach Redoubt.
"I'm not sure anybody does," Drogo replied, watching as the Aldmeri Embassy appeared between the trees.
Their invitation to the reception was more than proof that they in turn were not trusted by the Thalmor. They had met various members through the caravan in the past, and they had never shown them much more than a passing interest. Their summons here meant that without a doubt, Elenwen had heard of the reunification of the Forsworn, and likely feared an attack against her people.
The carriage jostled to a stop at the gates and the two men were met by a pair of Thalmor guards. One of them made to reach for Dar'Jazha, but his hand returned to his side as a second carriage approached, his expression bordering on annoyance.
A paunchy Redguard stumbled to the ground and drunkenly wove his way to the gates. "So I'm not the only one who arrived late, eh?" he asked, elbowing Drogo and grinning widely. "Got to find some way to rile these golden skinned devils."
The Thalmor guards didn't seem particularly fond of the address, but they remained stoic nonetheless. "Invitations, please," one asked drily.
Their new companion withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment from within his pocket and handed it over. After a cursory glance, the Thalmor waved him in. At Drogo's side, Dar'Jazha removed their own invitation, but the guards did not so much as glance at it, watching instead as the other guest swayed into the party.
"Khal Drogo of Hammerfell and Dar'Jazha of Elsweyr." Drogo said with growing impatience. "Summoned here by the request of Lady Elewen."
When the door to the hall closed, taking with it a warm glow and the smell of foreign delicacies, the Thalmor turned back. "We know who you are," one of the men replied. "And we're under orders to arrest you both."
Though the frantic twitching of Dar'Jazha's tail suggested that the Khajiit would rather fight the Thalmor than submit to them, the two men went without resistance, under threat of death should they refuse to do so. They were brought through the kitchens to avoid detection by the other esteemed guests, and as they passed through, they heard a rather loud commotion from the great hall.
"By the gods, I think she's fainted! Brelas, fetch some water!"
Drogo caught a brief glimpse as they were dragged away and saw the young Lady Stormcloak crumpled on the ground, looking dazed but unharmed. As the other guests crowded around her, a slight form separated from the back of the group and hastily disappeared into the shadows along the wall, a servant close behind.
"This way," barked the guard irritably, yanking on Drogo's arm and pulling him away before he could make out the darkened figure.
They were led hastily away from the party, and as they approached a second room, they met another pair of Thalmor soldiers, deep in conversation.
"Did you see those robes march in this morning?" one asked. "Who are they with? More of the Emissary's treaty enforcers?"
"No," his companion replied bitterly. "They're high mages, just in from Alinor. I guess Elewen herself is finally getting worried about all the dragon attacks."
"Ah, good. I've been wondering how we were supposed to defend this place from a dragon."
The second guard snorted. "If a dragon does show up, maybe we'll get lucky and it will eat the mages first. Might give us enough time to kill it."
"Mm, I would like to see those arrogant bastards taken down a notch. Always looking down their noses at us lowly footsloggers."
Their cruel laughter ended quickly as Drogo and Dar'Jazha were marched through and the Redguard didn't fail to notice their wary stares. Any man who could tame the Forsworn was a man to be feared, or so it seemed.
Just as they were shoved through the door at the end of the room, another guard appeared at the doorway from which they had come, shorter than most and with his hood pulled down to obscure his features. Drogo felt a strange tug in his gut, but dismissed it as fear, for he had no doubt that their capture would end in torture.
The rest of the march took them through Elenwen's solar and down from there to the dungeon, reserved for the enemies of the Thalmor, of which there were admittedly many.
The crackling of electricity greeted them as they approached the cells, and Drogo could feel his hair stand on end as a tortured scream followed.
"Stop," the voice begged. "Please. I don't know anything else! Don't you think I would have told you already?"
"Silence," one of the soldiers barked. "You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions."
The Thalmor torturer stood calmly at the edge of the nearest cell, his fingertips still sparking with tendrils of magick. "Let's begin again."
"No..." the prisoner wailed. "For pity's sake...I've already told you everything..."
"Master Rulindil," it was the guard that restrained Drogo that spoke, interrupting the interrogation. The mage turned their way and appraised the two prisoners for a moment, waiting for the guard to continue. "These are the two that Lady Elenwen requested. They have been raising an army among the Forsworn, and she believes that their hagravens may be the cause of these dragon attacks."
Rulindil nodded curtly. "Lock them up. I will be with them shortly."
Before the guards could obey, they heard a cry of alarm from a room above, quickly cut short. The Thalmor exchanged worried glances, and Rulindil jerked his chin toward the staircase from which they had entered.
"Take care of them and then go. Lady Elewen may be in danger."
Dar'Jazha growled lowly as he was hastily forced into the next cell over and shackled to the wall, but Drogo stayed silent as he too was locked away. There was far more than simple Thalmor cruelty behind their capture and the torture of their fellow prisoner, he was sure, and he was curious to find out the true motive.
"Start at the beginning," the torturer said evenly as his fellow Thalmor departed to investigate. "If you persist in this stubbornness I will have to—"
"No, wait!" the man cried out. "I was just...catching my breath. Of course I'll tell you again. I don't even know anything..." A trail of blood ran down his temple as he spoke, and his breath came out in rattling sighs. "There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this...'Esbern' that you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. I swear to you, that's all I know!"
"And his name is...?"
"I don't know his name," the prisoner sobbed. "Like I've told you already a hundred—"
His words ended in a scream as Rulindil's fingertips crackled to life once more and the sobbing continued as he writhed in agony.
Drogo looked away as the other man vomited helplessly, and his gaze fell on Dar'Jazha, who smirked slightly and wiggled his paws. In the soldiers' haste to return to their mistress' solar, they had neglected to check the shackles upon the wall, last used on a man far bigger than the lithe Khajiit.
"You know the rules," Rulindil chastised. "Just answer the questions. And where can we find this nameless old man?"
"Like I've said...I don't...know! I've seen him down in the Ratway. Maybe he lives down there, but I can't say for sure."
The Thalmor sighed heavily, but nodded, beginning to turn away. "That will be all for now. I must say I continue to be disappointed in your lack of cooperation. I hope next time you will do better."
The telltale whistle of an arrow punctuated his snide statement, and his eyes widened in surprise before shifting to the fletching that protruded from his chest. A gasping wheeze escaped his lips, but he did not fall, and as his lips began to move, Dar'Jazha slipped from his restraints and took the wizard's head in both his paws, twisting sharply. A sickening crack confirmed his death, and his spell fizzled out in wisps of smoke.
Struggling to twist in his shackles, Drogo tried to see where the arrow had come from, to no avail. His partner, however, turned to the darkened doorway opposite the other prisoner's cell and after a moment, he fell into a deep bow.
"Khaleesi."
Drogo's heart leapt to his throat as Daenerys stepped from the doorway, bow in hand. She wore a set of hooded Thalmor robes, the hood fallen about her shoulders, and her eyes blazed as she looked at the corpse of the Altmer torturer. He could see in her gaze that this was not the first time she had killed.
"Dany..."
The sound of her name broke her from her reverie, and her eyes filled with tears as she met her husband's gaze. Returning her bow to her shoulders, she rushed to his side and hastened to unlock him. She cried as she fell into his embrace, far from the warrior that he had seen only moments before.
"I love you," he murmured into her hair. "Gods, Dany, I love you."
She returned the sentiment in whispers as she covered him with kisses, ending on his lips and melting in his grasp as he kissed her back. When her hand fell absently to his lap, she blushed, but he only kissed her again. Though she was still young and fairly innocent, he was not ashamed of his body's reaction to her soft, warm skin against his once again. She was after all the most beautiful woman on Nirn, and his wife besides.
When her breathing grew labored, she forced herself away, kneeling at his side. "Why are you here? What do the Thalmor want with you?"
"They fear your army," he replied, and her expression shifted to one of confusion.
"My army?"
"Aye," Drogo said softly, brushing his hand across her cheek. "The Forsworn have pledged themselves to their new Khaleesi, for she will lead them home again."
Her gaze grew distant at his words, and after a moment she stood and walked from his cell, searching Rulindil's body until his robes yielded an ornate key. Carefully, she fitted into the locked chest against the wall, and when the lid responded to her touch, she began to rummage inside.
Drogo and Dar'Jazha exchanged a brief glance before joining her. In the chest were rolls of parchment, piled high atop a series of leather bound journals. Daenerys withdrew one and cracked open its cover, revealing the words within.
Thalmor Dossier: Esbern
Status: Fugitive (Capture Only)
Highest Priority, Emissary Level Approval
Whoever this 'Esbern' was, he was important enough to the Thalmor to nearly torture a man to death for information on his whereabouts. And now, it seemed that Dany searched for him also. Not for the first time, Drogo wondered where her life had taken her since their separation.
The report continued:
Esbern was one of the Blades loremasters prior to the First War Against the Empire. He was not a field agent, but is now believed to have been behind some of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades during the pre-war years, including the Falinesti Incident and the breach of the Blue River Prison.
Drogo had heard of the Blades, but not outside of history books, dating back to the time of Martin Septim.
His file had remained dormant for many years, an inexcusable error on the part of my predecessor (who had been recalled to Alinor for punishment and reeducation), in the erroneous belief that he was unlikely to pose a threat due to his advanced age and lack of field experience. A salutary reminder to all operational levels that no Blades agent should be considered low priority for any reason. All are to be found and justice exacted upon them.
"Daenerys..." She continued to read as he spoke. "What are you doing here? Why are you looking for Esbern?"
When she closed the book, she ignored his question, turning instead to the prisoner who had been questioned, and released from his bonds by Dar'Jazha. "Is there a way out of here?"
The young man nodded and gestured toward a nearby trapdoor, barely visible amongst the stained boards of the wooden floor.
"That's where they dump all the bodies. It must be some sort of cave or passageway."
Dany nodded and drew her bow once again, her expression grim. "Come. Once we are safe, we have much to discuss."