Chapter XLIV – Men on the Inside

The message was clear.

The second Bishop and Aeyrin read it, they knew what those vague words were about. 'Things may seem calm'. 'Their silence is more dangerous than their threats'. The note was obviously referring to the Silver-Bloods. The two of them were discussing just that – the lack of threats when they entered the city, the strange calm regarding their presence. It was almost unnatural.

And now they knew.

It was unnatural. They should have known that something was wrong.

But they still had no idea what exactly was going on. They asked Hroki about Nepos the Nose and she directed them to a house. The man was some noble or such. Hroki didn't have that much information.

It was a problem. The warning was a problem, but it also came to them in a very shady way and from a complete stranger that they had no information about. Sure, it could really be an offer of help. Or it could be a trap.

The note said that leaving the city would not help. But that could be a lie in order to keep them in here. Or not.

It was frustrating. They had nothing to go on. And their only source of information right now was this Nepos person. Hroki said he was reclusive and nobody knew much about him. Nobody would be able to tell them whether the man could be trusted. Besides, insinuating that they had a conflict with the Silver-Bloods was not very smart either.

They were alone in this. They had no real allies in Markarth. There was Calcelmo, but they didn't really know his attitude towards the Silver-Bloods either. Besides, it was all too complicated. In their efforts to get Bishop and Aeyrin out of the city, the Silver-Bloods even helped get them out of the whole Molag-Bal-in-the-basement mess. It was all confusing. They seemed to want anyone meddlesome out of their sight – that much was understandable, especially after the bounty on Aeyrin was gone. They had no reason to interact and apparently the Silver-Bloods were above petty revenge for no profit. But they were careful and they wanted Bishop and Aeyrin out of their dealings.

But this message made no sense.

Aeyrin and Bishop were left with no other choice.

They stood in front of the house that Hroki had directed them to before. They decided to go unarmored, just like they always did in the city, in order to not raise any suspicions, but they were not helpless. They at least took small weapons to defend themselves in case they needed it. It didn't sound like that would be the case. There was likely no battle waiting for them, just political machination as always.

But oddly enough, after knocking and knocking, nobody answered them.

It was strange. The letter was delivered to them only an hour or so earlier. They even took it with them to prove to some servants or such that they'd been called. But now it seemed like nobody was there. Weird.

"Maybe the door is open," Aeyrin pondered. She felt nervous standing there in front of this man's house. If he was an enemy of the Silver-Bloods, it was not good to be seen there.

"You remember what happened the last time we walked into an open house in Markarth?" Bishop scowled. If there were gonna be any Daedric Princes waiting for him in there, he was gonna be fucking pissed.

"We can't keep standing here and knocking," she shook her head. Some rat would see them sooner or later. They needed to act.

She pushed on the door resolutely and it opened, surprisingly enough. There was no abandoned chamber behind the door though, fortunately, just a long corridor. And it was well lit with Dwemer lights and some candelabras around various planters filled with colorful flowers and ferns. It was well kept. Clearly people lived in this house. It was a far cry from that horrible house where Molag Bal had been summoned.

But nobody was actually waiting in that corridor. It made sense though – they would have opened the door if anyone was there. Hopefully there would be people somewhere in the back of the house.

They closed the door behind them as they continued together, each with a hand on their sheathed daggers. They needed to be ready for anything.

But when they opened the next door, leading into a larger lavish room, they were met with silence again.

If only it was just the silence.

Their steps squelched unpleasantly in the fresh blood pooled on the floor and the sight of several corpses greeted them. Fresh ones. The air was not even heavy with death yet. There was an older man in fancy clothes lying face-first in his own blood and two younger people who looked like servants – one propped against a wall with a gushing stab wound in his stomach and a trail of blood on the wall behind him, signaling his limp dead slide over it; and the second one sprawled across a few chairs, clearly shoved back with her own blood splattered over the wall behind her and her throat slit.

Everyone was dead.

What happened? Did the Silver-Bloods find out about the letter?

Before Bishop and Aeyrin could rouse from the shock, a loud sound echoed from behind them. Someone just entered the house!

The two of them both turned around sharply, only to stare right at the last people they would want to see just then.

Guards.

How did they get here just now? Did all this mess happen in the span of minutes? Was their timing this unfortunate to come just after a murder and right before the guards who were likely called. Or was this not a coincidence at all?

The two guards promptly saw them across the corridor, standing there in a pool of blood. This was going to be a pain to explain. Especially since this was not their first problem with the law in Markarth. And Bishop didn't even know if he had gotten into trouble for trying to rob that temple which he had no memory of! This was bad.

"Don't move!" One of them bellowed and both men rushed across the corridor to enter the main chamber. When they saw the bloodbath there, the guards let out a shocked gasp in unison.

"We were just as shocked as you are," Aeyrin quickly tried to explain. "We just came here."

"We didn't do this," Bishop piped up. Fuck, he had no hopes of the guards believing them. Maybe some witnesses could confirm they just entered. But… the corpses were so fucking fresh. It wouldn't rule anything out.

"Shut up!" One of the guards hissed. "Hands behind your backs. Now!"

"Listen, please, this is just a misunderstanding," Aeyrin tried to calm them down desperately.

"I said hands behind your backs!" The guard repeated, but Aeyrin continued insistently without obeying.

"Look at us, we're not even dirty from the blood. You can see it would have been everywhere," she gestured towards the splatters all over the place. There was no way the killer could escape that. "And our weapons are clean and… I'm sure someone saw us standing in front of the house just now."

"What the fuck did I tell you?" The man seemed fed up, despite her reasonable arguments. He stepped towards her and yanked her by her wrists, pulling her hands back forcibly. At the same time, the other guard did the exact same thing to Bishop. It was no use. Even if they managed to get out of their grips, they would never be able to fight off fully armed and armored men who were ready for it. Their best bet was still to try and talk.

"Why the fuck would we even kill these people? We didn't even know them," Bishop growled. He couldn't help but try and yank himself a bit out of the grip, but his efforts were mostly for show and half-hearted. He was kind of worried about what would happen if he managed. The guards were fucking aggressive.

"Then what are you doing here, if you don't know them?" The guard holding Aeyrin at bay smirked.

"We got invited. We don't know why," Bishop promptly responded. "I even have that fucking letter. In that pouch," he inclined his head towards one of the pouches on his belt. The guards shared a look after his words and the one holding him kept his wrists in his with only one hand. Bishop could escape him now if he wanted, but it was best to try and make him see he had the wrong guys.

The guard reached into Bishop's pouch and pulled out the letter. Hopefully it would help.

"What letter?" He suddenly smirked as he reached with his hand towards a lit candelabra near him. The letter quickly caught fire at that.

"What the fuck?!" Bishop yelled and Aeyrin wasn't far behind with the complaints.

"Hey! You can't do that! The Jarl knows us. If we tell him you destroyed evidence…"

"I am so tired of that yapping," the man behind her back growled and she felt him shift his grip on her hands. Unfortunately for her, his hands were large and he had no trouble grabbing both her slender wrists with only one. His free hand went promptly to cover her mouth and to muffle her words.

The moment his palm covered her lips, a wave of panic rushed over her. It was becoming pretty obvious to her lately that this tended to awaken some bad memories in her. She couldn't help that feeling. She had been forcibly silenced so many times before. The images came to her mind instantly – of Mercer, Thongvor, Thorn, Ulfric, and any other time she had felt completely helpless and scared out of her mind. Thorn seemed to have been the last straw for her. Ever since then, she couldn't stand the feeling. Her gut clenched in discomfort and she felt like her whole body got covered in cold sweat. She wouldn't even let Bishop gag her anymore during their time together when they needed to be quiet. Somehow, despite how different it was, it still brought her to this panicked state.

This was different too. Ineffective. It wasn't the same thing everyone else did – silencing the Dragonborn by gagging her. This was almost a gentle gesture in comparison. She could make sounds, she could still breathe. But at that moment, it still felt the same. And she couldn't help it. The panic was stronger than her rational mind just then.

She pulled herself away as much as she could, shifted her head enough so that she could take action that her body practically forced on her in her panic. And once she felt she could open her lips, she bit down on the man's hand. Hard.

"Aaah! Fuck! You bitch!"

The guard yelled out and let go of her instantly. She could feel his blood in her mouth. Did she really bite that hard?

It only took a second of confusion and she felt the back of his armored hand connect with her face, delivering a painful slap. A sharp ache spread through her entire face and she stumbled, falling onto the ground as she lost footing from the intense pain and shock.

"What the fuck?!" Bishop yelled out and he tried harder to free himself from the guard's grip.

He actually succeeded, but he was instantly met with a swift and hard punch into his own face. Fuck, that hurt! He immediately sputtered blood and staggered back, but in that time, the guard brandished his sword at him. He only briefly noticed that the other guard was already pointing his sword at Aeyrin too, forcing her to stay on the ground.

These men would not listen to reason and they were outmatched.

There was no way around it.

And both of them knew that this time, it would take a miracle to get them out of this mess.

Once more they found themselves in the same precarious place.

They were both chained in the Jarl's throne room, waiting for whatever fate had in store for them. They tried to explain the situation to the Jarl, but he looked… skeptical. They couldn't even ask him to Calcelmo this time. After the strange happenings with Molag Bal, at least the court wizard could be consulted whether their story was plausible. But this time, there was no magic, nothing unnatural to be considered. There were just dead bodies, blood and unfortunate coincidences.

If they were, in fact, coincidences.

It was all so confusing. As if it all had been set up perfectly for their demise. The guards were there right away, ready to destroy the only piece of evidence they had in their defense. And now it all just looked… bleak.

The Jarl listened to them, but he didn't even say anything. And now he was called away by a guard and he was discussing something with someone.

Despite their situation, Bishop and Aeyrin tried to stay as quiet as possible. They could hear the men's discussion if they tried hard, though they could only catch every other word. Still, they hoped it would help them gauge the situation at least a little.

"… can't ask me to do this!" The Jarl's voice was clearer when it reached these heights. He sounded panicked. Who was he talking to? It wasn't the guard anymore and neither Aeyrin or Bishop recognized the second voice.

"… to protect your people…" It was one of the few things they caught from the other person. "… her, don't worry. But we can't guarantee…"

"I just can't make…" the Jarl sighed desperately, but his voice quieted as he spoke.

"… not the only ones in danger…" the other voice mumbled.

It was a short conversation, but it felt like ages. Eventually, the murmuring stopped though and they heard the Jarl's footsteps coming back to them. What was happening? Who was he talking to? And more importantly – what was going to happen to them now?

He stopped right in front of them and soon, two guards marched into the room again. One of them was the one that called the Jarl away in the first place.

"I… I am sorry," the Jarl sighed. What did that mean?

The guard suddenly cleared his throat and the Jarl continued somberly.

"For the brutal murder of Nepos the Nose and his serving staff, you are sentenced to incarceration in Cidhna Mine… until further trials."

"What?! No! We didn't do anything!" Aeyrin instantly panicked. Cidhna Mine? That couldn't be true. She knew that this was how things worked in Markarth, but… Bishop had told her that nobody ever gets out of there. They couldn't do this. The Jarl couldn't do this to them.

He couldn't do this to her. She needed to play this card. She had no choice. She would figure out a way to get Bishop out of there, but she needed to be free to do that.

"You have no idea what could happen if you have me locked in there! The dragons will…"

"Enough," the Jarl shook his head. "You are not above the law."

"She didn't do it," Bishop promptly piped up. They couldn't imprison her. He would figure something out. Or maybe she would find a way to get him out from out here, but they couldn't both be sent there. This was their only option. "I did it. She just went looking for me there. She had no hand in the murders."

Aeyrin gave him a panicked look. If he confessed to this, it would be significantly harder to get him out. But she understood his desperate move. And she didn't dare to try to ruin it with counter-confessions.

"There will be more trials regarding this," the Jarl sighed. "For now, you are both sentenced to the Mine. And that is my final word on this matter." He seemed almost… resigned. Like he didn't want to do this. Like they weren't the only ones with their hands tied. What was going on?

"Take them away," the Jarl gestured and for once, Aeyrin and Bishop were both lost for words. What else could they do? What else could they say?

Soon, a dark sack was put on each of their heads, shrouding them in darkness and hiding their faces. Of course – the people of Markarth couldn't see that the Jarl was dragging the Dragonborn to the Mine, right? Aeyrin was seriously considering making a scene. Yelling and telling the people on the streets what happened, but what would it solve? If they heard that they were murderers, it might just make everything worse. And the Jarl would just spew his 'trials' shit again to placate the masses like he was placating them.

Neither of them could see much under the black bags – only outlines and shapes. But they were promptly led by the guards out of the Keep. The guards did alert them to stairs and obstacles, fortunately. They almost thought they would let them trip and stumble to humiliate them, but that didn't happen.

Soon they could feel the cold air on their skins and they knew where they were headed next. With their hands chained behind their backs and guards gripping them firmly though, there was not much they could do to escape their fate. They needed to regroup and come up with a plan. They needed to figure out what even happened. It was still so confusing.

The walk continued for what felt like a very long time.

Aeyrin soon felt a strange heaviness in the air as the terrain under her feet changed. They were no longer outside. She recognized the smell of metal, dampness and sweat and the rough ground replacing the smooth stone. She knew it already. They were in the mine. So quickly in a place that nobody could ever escape. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. How were they going to get out of this?

She wished she could see. Now it was harder not to stumble and she really wished she could see Bishop's comforting face at least for a moment. Even in the most dire situations, he could still reassure her.

There were several sounds of metal doors opening as she was led ahead. Until at last they stopped. She felt the cuffs on her hands loosen, but then she heard a door closing and locking behind her again.

"Take off everything and get the rags, prisoner," a muffled voice rang from behind the door. It was disturbing how familiar this process already was for her.

With shaky hands, she moved her fingers to remove the sack from her head. It took a bit before she adjusted to the dim light, but there was nothing to see anyway. Just two crates – one empty for her things, the other one filled with scant rags for her to wear. There was no Bishop. They must have led him to another changing room. For once, she cursed the fact that she could never hear him with his muffling ring always on his finger. She had no idea when she lost his footsteps next to her.

She let out a shuddering breath and began to remove her jewelry. This was always painful, no matter the fact that they were just things. It hurt to remove her Stendarrite amulet. It hurt to remove the necklace with the wolf head ring on it. It even hurt to remove her silky ribbon from her hair. And most of all, it really hurt to have to remove her engagement ring. She sorely hoped she would get them all back when she got out.

If she got out.

Gods, that made her sick. What if she spent the rest of her life here? Even… centuries.

No, don't think about that.

They would get out. They would. There had to be a way.

She took her time undressing and dressing again into those rags. So much so that the guard knocked on the door angrily through the process. She didn't want to come out. But then again, she needed to see Bishop and work on an escape plan with him.

She was done after a while. She felt kind of naked in the baggy clothes. The drab brown cloth on her torso was ripped in several places and she felt like she was dressed only in wisp wrappings. And of course it had the back of it missing again, probably to make the inevitable lashing convenient. The trousers were not much better. And she had to try several of them only to find a pair that wouldn't just slide off her hips with how small she was in Nord-made clothes.

"D-done," she stammered and she worried for a spell that her voice had been too quiet for the guard to hear. But it wasn't. The door opened promptly.

Much to her surprise, two men walked in this time. One of them was holding more restraints, but these cuffs were clearly made for working. The chain in between them made them kind of… redundant. Anyone could move their arms in them easily. Maybe it was just to make sure she looked like a prisoner.

The second guard was holding something too, but she couldn't tell what it was. Something leather and flat? And also some metal cuff, though larger.

"Hands to the front," the first guard ordered her and she tried to control the tremors in her arms as she outstretched them in front of her. She was promptly 'rewarded' with the cuff clasping on her wrists.

When that was done, the second guard suddenly grinned at her maliciously. "Come here, little dragon."

Ugh, she didn't want to. But her face still stung and hurt from that backhand she got before. She didn't want to get hurt again needlessly. There was no point in resisting now.

When she approached him, he promptly clasped something cold and metallic around her neck – a collar. She took a breath in order to protest – she didn't need to be treated like an animal – but the second she did, the man wrapped something around her mouth. A scratchy leather mask was placed on her and clasped in the back tightly. She could feel some strange mechanism in the back.

What…?

"Just so you don't try anything stupid, little dragon," the guard smirked at her.

What in the Void? He just covered her mouth with this. Sure, her throat felt a bit of pressure from the collar, but this would never stop a dragon Shout. She needed to be entirely gagged for that to work. This would not work. She could Shout despite that!

Except that she couldn't. Because of that werewolf…

Oh! Wait… she still had that. That one last resort. The werewolf.

The thought made her sick. There were too many people here and the guards, despite the fact that some clearly took pleasure in it, were just doing their jobs. She couldn't escape in a massacre.

But it was an option. That calmed her down a little bit.

Strange, when she wasn't entirely gagged, the panic was only brief. She suspected that she had reacted like that to the guard's hand in Nepos's house because he was holding her in a tight grip as well. This though, it only took a moment before she calmed herself.

But the relative calm lasted no longer than another brief moment.

Hold on. There were no holes in the leather! She could breathe through her nose, but how would she drink and eat?

She shook her head at them frantically, mumbling her questions through the leather, but nobody would ever be able to understand her like that.

"Hehe, yes, yes, I think it's a fun toy too," the man who put this thing on her laughed heartily. "Good little dragon," he snickered maliciously as he reached out to pet her head like he would do to an actual animal. She promptly threw him a death glare as she jerked away from his touch, but that only made him chuckle again.

There was really nothing she could do. Unless she tried to choke that asshole with her chains.

But any resistance was pointless now. She needed an actual plan. She could not make this worse for herself by succumbing to her anger.

"Come on," the other guard was much less amused as he grumbled. He produced another chain from his belt and reached out to clasp it to her collar. Really?! Now she was on a leash?!

He tugged at the chain, making her stumble forward and let out a muffled yelp into her leather mask. This was already humiliating. But she had to remember – this time she was not powerless. She had to remind herself of that to keep calm.

The guard forced her to walk while the other one ushered her by grabbing her shoulder. He was so handsy. She quickly jerked away, but that only earned her another pat on her head. She had half a mind to show him what kind of animal she really was. He would wish she were just a 'little dragon' then.

But she had to keep calm. Even when the handsy asshole's voice rang near her ear.

"Let's go meet your new friends."

The sack was yanked from Bishop's head swiftly and strong armored arms pushed him down. He stumbled, but he merely found himself landing onto a seat of a wooden chair. His hands were still chained behind his back and the dim lights in the room finally let him see a little.

Wait… where was he? This was no mine. And… what the fuck?

He felt the guard standing behind him, but what was more staggering were the figures right in front of him. A black-haired man dressed in overly lavish clothes and adorned with silver jewelry sat opposite him with a mean grin on his face. And behind him stood his own lummox. Bald, clad in full Dwemer heavy armor and throwing Bishop nasty death-glares.

That one Bishop recognized.

Thongvor.

Fuck.

So the other asshole must have been…

"Welcome. We haven't had the pleasure yet. Thonar Silver-Blood," he reached out with his hand as if he were to shake Bishop's, but then he pointedly looked at his chained arms with a laugh. "Oh! Right."

"We haven't had the pleasure yet either," Thongvor glared at him. "But I feel like we know each other so well already. So well you even send me gifts."

'Gifts'? What the fuck was he talking about? Why was Bishop brought here? It wasn't the prison, not a mine. It was just a house. A very small and empty house, but it had four stone walls, empty shelves on the sides and a wooden table in front of Bishop, along with the two chairs that Thonar and he occupied. There was a door behind Thongvor and Bishop was pretty sure there was another one behind him.

This meant nothing good. And Aeyrin wasn't here.

"What the fuck's going on?" Bishop growled.

"A lot, actually. Where to even start?" Thonar let out an overly dramatic sigh. "Maybe with the gift you sent my dear brother? Or maybe with how you came here just in time? Hmmm… oh I know! Let's talk about our dear Nepos."

"We didn't kill him," Bishop growled. He didn't know if it was a good thing or not, but he didn't have it in him to figure out these men's motivations right now.

"Oh, I know," Thonar smirked. "Our men did. As they were instructed."

What. The. Fuck?

"Why?" Bishop gritted his teeth. So this was a setup. Or was it a stroke of really bad luck?

"He used to be an ally of ours but he… outlived his usefulness. He was inclined to ally himself with other people instead. We had to intervene. And we needed a scapegoat. You know, sometimes it's just impressive how everything falls in together," Thonar sighed wistfully. That only made Bishop more confused. That was it? They wanted a scapegoat and they picked them?

"Is this supposed to be your revenge?" he growled at Thongvor.

"Not exactly. It's more of a… two-birds-one-stone situation. Or maybe three birds. Or is it four by now?" Thongvor scoffed, but his death-glare was still ever-present.

Bishop only looked more confused, and as much as Thonar seemed to enjoy it, he soon spoke again.

"Maybe we should start with something else," he sighed. "I'm sure you're familiar with the Forsworn. After all, we all know what happened near that mine…" he gestured towards Thongvor.

What? Why was this dickwad now talking about the Forsworn? What the fuck?

But Bishop knew what he was referring to. The Forsworn that saved Aeyrin from Thongvor when he wanted to claim Mercer's bounty on her head. He still had no idea how it connected to Nepos and the imprisonment though.

"There are many of them inside our mine and we have… informants and allies within their ranks. But so do they have them amongst the people of Markarth. That was Nepos. We found out recently about his dealings with the Forsworn. You see, there is a man, a Forsworn king, if you can believe that, that resides in Cidhna Mine. We had him under our thumb. He… cooperated. But because of some things we uncovered on Nepos, we now know that this is no longer the case. Or perhaps it never was. The king, Madanach, is trying to organize a… revolt in our mine," Thonar explained.

Alright. Whatever. What the fuck did Bishop care about their bullshit war with the Forsworn?

"So now we need to act. We needed to get rid of Nepos and we need to get rid of Madanach. From the inside. Unfortunately, our informants within… well we still need them in there. And we can never be certain of their loyalty either. And we cannot put the lives of our guards on the line either. It's a precarious situation," he sighed.

"What the fuck does any of this have to do with me?" Bishop growled impatiently.

"That's the best part. The part where everything falls into place. Have you remembered yet what gift you sent to my dear brother?" Thonar smirked.

No. What the fuck was this about a gift?

"They weren't very happy when they found out I never called on them," Thongvor scowled at Bishop.

'They'?

Oh. Shit. Fuck.

Bishop only let out a resigned sigh. The Brotherhood. They came to check whether Thongvor called on them.

"They told my brother what happened. Well… they told him some things. Apparently you were chosen as someone with the potential to join their ranks and pretended to be some kind of voice for the sacraments? That's… bold, I admit." Thonar laughed.

"Didn't really have many choices there," Bishop grumbled under his breath. It was the only thing he could do in order to survive.

"We don't care about that. We assumed it was some kind of a joke or a pathetic attempt to have Thongvor killed," Thonar rolled his eyes. "But… now that these troubles are upon us, we did consider hiring outside help to deal with the traitors in our midst. We considered the Brotherhood."

"So you called them to kill that king of yours?" Bishop scowled. Was one of the assassins in Markarth now? That would make this shitstorm even worse.

"Well, we were planning on it. But then… you came back here," Thonar gave him an eager smile. Oh fuck. "What an opportunity! Someone capable enough to be considered for a position in the Brotherhood. And without their outrageous prices."

"So you killed Nepos, sent us the note to have us right there to frame us and send us here? Just so that I can kill that fucking king?" Bishop fumed. What the fuck? They really sent them forever into the mine just for this?!

"Now you're catching on," Thonar winked at him. "It's simple, really. You go in, you keep this man right here updated on your progress," he pointed to the guard standing behind Bishop. "And you kill Madanach. I would advise you to try and be covert. Madanach's cellmates might not take kindly to this development."

"Why the fuck do you just assume I'll do this for you?" Bishop growled.

"Well, for one, once Madanach is dead, we will send guards to investigate the murder in our mine. And… you'll be the prime suspect. You'll be taken out of the mine and brought back here. And if we're happy, we might even let you… escape the city."

Fuck. Well… that was the better option. But Bishop didn't like the 'might' of it all and there was another problem. If he needed to escape the city, there would be no way he could get Aeyrin out.

"What about Aeyrin?" He glared. "Let her out and I'll kill your fucking king."

"Hah! Not quite," Thonar shook her head. At that point, Thongvor's constant glare twisted into a smug smile. That did not bode well. "See, Igmund was not happy with us taking the Dragonborn in. We told him that if you cooperate though, she will be let out. After all, we only need one scapegoat for Nepos's murder."

"Great. I'm cooperating. Let her out," Bishop scoffed.

"Not so fast. You are too much of a wildcard in our hands. We need reassurance. So, just so you know, we made sure some preventative measures are upheld regarding her stay there. Mostly ones that don't allow her to speak, to prevent her from doing anything dangerous. Unfortunately, those measures kind of prevent her from eating and drinking as well. Unpleasant, but I can't really ask my scared guards to risk their lives just so she could drink, can I?" Thonar chuckled.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" Bishop fumed again and shifted in his chair. He wanted to punch that fucking bastard right now.

"Just some precautions. Don't you worry about that. But… the more good news we get from our friend here," Thonar nodded at the guard again, "the more often we will be inclined to send some mercenary mage into the prison to silence her so that she can take care of some basic necessities. There's your incentive. Progress well and we feed her. Kill Madanach and we release her. And once the investigation starts, you'll have your chance. You'll still be wanted for the murder of Nepos and Madanach both, and I assume the Forsworn won't be nearly as friendly to you," he chuckled. "But you have a chance to be free. If you're good at avoiding trouble."

Fucking sick bastards.

Bishop could barely contain his anger. But what else was there to do? They were seriously keeping Aeyrin away from basic needs just to blackmail him? And it was all just to save money on assassins? That was fucking messed up. But Bishop had no doubt that some measure of revenge had its hand in it, whether they admitted it or not.

"Are you gonna give me a weapon?" He growled in frustration.

"Of course not! It's a prison. You can't be allowed in with a weapon. You need to improvise," Thonar shook his head.

Fucking Void.

"So, still cooperating?" Thonar smirked at him victoriously.

"You ask as if I have a fucking choice," Bishop snarled.

"You don't! That's the beauty of it," the man laughed heartily. And Thongvor looked really fucking pleased with himself too. He looked like that ever since they talked about Aeyrin's predicament.

Maybe Bishop could help her himself somehow when they met in the prison though. He just needed to gouge his further options once he got there. What would happen anyway if he refused to cooperate now? He would be sent to the mine anyway and Aeyrin would likely starve to death in there. The Silver-Bloods were obviously never concerned with what a fucking mess it would be if she died and the dragons roamed free here. But he could still try to play that card.

"So what if I fail? You let her die? And then what? The dragons kill you all?" Bishop scoffed.

"This bullshit again?" Thongvor suddenly growled. "If a fucking weakling nobody can be a Dragonborn, so can anyone else. You think we're buying this bullshit?"

"What?" Bishop gave him an incredulous look. "She almost fucking killed you with one Shout!"

"So? Ulfric killed the High King with one Shout and he can't do shit about the dragons. Everyone acts like she is irreplaceable. Some other bastard will come right after her to claim they can eat souls," Thongvor rolled his eyes.

Well that was… one opinion. It only made shit more complicated for Bishop though. Aeyrin's usual immunity was useless with these two.

"Well, now that that's settled," Thonar interrupted. "Shall we talk details? Or do you have any other pointless objections?"

He wished he had more objections, but he couldn't see any other way out. He needed to talk to Aeyrin, to tell her what the fuck is really going on and think of what to do alongside her.

Whatever all this shit meant, he needed to get inside that prison already.

He never thought he'd be eager to be behind bars already.

He fucking hated nobles and their games.