The chapel was eerily quiet. It felt like it was making Aeyrin a little drowsy to just sit there and stare at that giant golden statue.
She couldn't sleep even if she wanted to though. Not while Bishop was in that place, and Master Therien too. She couldn't close her eyes even for a second before she saw them walk through the large doors of the temple.
She volunteered to take the chapel duty through the night just for that reason. She was going to be awake anyway, so why not?
She knew that this mission would take a long time – a whole day for certain. She wasn't clear on the details – Bishop had received most of his information from Carandil – but she knew that this would be stressful for the long haul. It was still worse than she had anticipated, going through her day, helping at the chapel, while her thoughts were clearly elsewhere constantly. She kept running all the possible tragic scenarios in her head as if they were sure to happen.
She tried to talk herself out of thinking that way. Bishop was a pro. He had always nailed these types of missions without issues. Besides, he had the soul gem ring to alert her if he needed help – it was still shining so brightly. And Master Therien was so resilient.
But even when she told herself that over and over, it didn't help.
At least she wasn't alone. There was a devout man there, even in the middle of the night, for the prayers. Well… maybe not that devout. At least not to Stendarr. He was there for the very same reason she was.
Even though they were mostly silent, Aeyrin was glad for Free-Winter's company. Especially since she relied on his contacts and knowledge so much during this whole issue. If anything went wrong, surely he would know what to do, wouldn't he?
From time to time, young Iranafire gave up on trying to fall asleep and came up into the chapel to ask if anything happened. She was worried too – about her older brother and the risks he was taking by helping the cause. And then there were the others. The clerics, Master Selvia – the word had spread to everyone who was involved. They were all anxious, all eager to help should anything go amiss. It was just a shame that not everyone in the temple was in the know. Not everyone could be trusted with these things.
But it was certainly a little comforting to Aeyrin to see so many people worry over the same things. Though she was sure that nobody worried as much as her. It was practically impossible.
"He does these things often?" Brunwulf's voice interrupted the silence after a while, echoing through the empty halls. "You were so sure that he would be the right man for the job. And with the theft at the Thalmor bureau too. Not to mention all that skulking around in Windhelm."
"Uhm… yes… he's… got some experience with this sort of thing. He's good," Aeyrin nodded a little absentmindedly. Brunwulf was nervous about Bishop's abilities – it was understandable. But she surely couldn't tell him about where those skills had come from, or tell him wild tales of his illegal heists and infiltrations.
"That is good to hear," he nodded, seemingly comforted by her words, before he offered some consolations in turn. "It is still early enough."
"I know," Aeyrin let out a slight sigh. Bishop's spell would still be in effect now and he had a large part of the night left to enact his plan. Still, every moment was nerve-wracking.
There was silence again.
Aeyrin stared at the golden statue once more. She hadn't meditated and prayed in ages, but it felt like she had been making up for it now in the past few days at the temple. But it still didn't seem like enough for what was going on.
Stendarr's face had always reminded her of Master Samus for some reason. She tried to concentrate on that – on the features that they had in common, on the carved long hair and beard, glittering with gold. It had always held a measure of comfort mixed with an odd sense of intimidation, just like said Master.
Not like Therien at all. He was only kind and comforting and understanding.
How could anyone stand to hurt a man like that? It hurt her to even think about what he must have been going through.
It felt like a long time as the silence stretched on. It wasn't unusual for that eve – they had been sitting there in silence for hours already.
But then, finally, the doors opened. Very slowly. Excruciatingly so. Aeyrin couldn't stand how slowly they were opening and she rushed towards them in an instant.
By the time she reached the door, the man had already entered. She could hardly believe that she was seeing him there. He looked broken and exhausted and his body was covered in all manner of wounds. He also had unpleasantly familiar wrist cuffs on his hands, and he was dressed in some haggard prison rags.
But none of that mattered.
Not as long as he was there and alive.
Aeyrin practically lunged at him, hugging him fiercely in her relieved embrace. He was here. He was alright. Finally, after all this time worrying, the huge boulder fell off her chest.
"My dearest, crazy, girl," Master Therien let out a tired chuckle, muffled a bit by her hug.
She didn't let go of him for a long time. Even in the state he was in, it kind of always felt like his arms were just there to comfort her.
"I don't know what possessed you to come here, and what possessed you to come up with something so insane," he shook his head in disbelief, but she could still hear the subtle gratitude in his voice. At least she was pretty sure of it.
"It was my plan, actually," Brunwulf's chuckle echoed through the hall as Aeyrin finally let go of her old mentor, only reluctantly. "Well… not just mine. There were several people involved. It's good to see you made it, friend."
"Yes… I… I did," Master Therien lowered his head. Strange, he didn't seem too excited about being back here, safe with friends and family.
And come to think of it, where was Bishop? Aeyrin wasn't sure what Bishop's exact escape plan was, but she had assumed that he would meet up with Master Therien somewhere to help him get to the chapel. That was the safest thing to do. But maybe they had to split up? Or never met up in the first place. Surely Bishop had to be right behind him… even though he was faster…
"Where's Bishop?" Aeyrin couldn't stand the uncertainty for very long and she threw a concerned look at her old mentor.
Master Therien still had that same somber expression on his face as the chapel fell silent again. Even before he started to speak, it felt like her heart sank from her chest to her stomach. And it only got worse when his words echoed through the quiet halls again.
"I… I am sorry, my dear girl. I couldn't do anything."
…
After the secret passage in the prison closed, things moved pretty quickly.
A group of Thalmor barged in, only to find the fake Sentinel Rumaar there, along with the dead real one, and an unconscious guard on the ground and all the prisoners gone.
That was really not how things were supposed to go.
But the prisoners were free and, most importantly, so was Therien.
Now Bishop just needed to withstand whatever was in store for him. He knew that Aeyrin would not rest before he was out of this place, in case he wasn't able to get himself out. He just had to make sure not to divulge his purpose here and make Therien their prime target. And he couldn't let her know that he needed help by breaking his soul gem ring. There was no way he was summoning her in here.
Actually, this may have been a good thing, in a way. The Thalmor would be focusing on Bishop while the dissidents could plan Therien's move somewhere safe.
"Who are you?! Where are the prisoners?!" the Thalmor Justiciar barked at Bishop menacingly.
"Don't know…" Bishop placed a hand on his head, trying to pretend as if he had been knocked out as well. "What happened?"
"You're not one of us! Do you hear that accent?" One of the Sentinels scoffed.
Fucking accent.
"Who. Are. You?!" The Justiciar yelled again.
Bishop had to think of something. Quick. He had to come up with some story that would not link him to Therien.
But they would have to drag that out of him. For now, he was determined to try and keep his cover story.
"What? Sentinel Rumaar," he growled. None of the Thalmor seemed convinced, but that was fine, for now.
"Bullshit," the Justiciar snorted and his hand promptly lit up with white light. Before Bishop could react, he was enveloped in that same light and without even looking, he knew what happened. Dispel magic. His cover was surely gone.
"What the fuck is this?" one of the Sentinels gaped at him in disbelief.
"You! Take him to the interrogation room," the Justiciar pointed to the Sentinel. "And you," he pointed to another one. "Find the prisoners. Now!"
This looked bleak. But Bishop was ready for it.
Whatever would come now, he would withstand it and get out of this mess.
…
"Are you feeling better, Master?"
An ethereal voice echoed through the place – the ghost hovered around the catacombs, as if desperately trying to be helpful even without his material form. He had been fussing over Master Therien from the second Aeyrin and Brunwulf helped him sneak into the undercroft.
It was the process they had intended from the start. They would only alert the three clerics, Master Selvia, Gavros and Iranafire – all those involved with the dissidence. And they all sprung to action instantly, despite the late hours.
A provisionary cot was already prepared in the catacombs and now everyone was taking care of Master Therien, healing his wounds and making sure he got plenty of food and rest. Even the three ghosts that lived down in the undercroft were concerned for the man.
Everything went according to plan.
Except for one thing.
How was it that when Aeyrin held onto her old mentor's hand through the healing and recuperation, she felt like it was all for her comfort instead. She really needed that. She had to give a lot of effort not to fall apart right there and then the entire time as people hovered around, all concerned for the man. Her thoughts were elsewhere and her relief was entirely short-lived.
Bishop was in that prison now instead, having Gods-knew-what done to him when the Thalmor discovered his scheme.
Brunwulf left right away when he was sure that Master Therien would be taken care of. He sprung to action even before Aeyrin could process the situation fully.
He said he would take care of everything. He said that he would come up with a new plan along with Carandil and that they would figure out how to get Bishop out of there in no time.
It was partially comforting to have such a clearly capable man on the job, but it was also nerve-wracking to be on the sidelines while he worked. It was exactly the same as when Aeyrin had no idea what was happening to Master Therien – she knew that her own planning and involvement would only make things worse. She was no good at this stuff.
But letting others take care of everything just made her feel so helpless.
"I am feeling much better, lord Trebius," Master Therien gave the ghost a soft smile in return.
"And little Aeyrin," the ghost hovered next to Aeyrin in a moment as she sat by Master Therien's side, clutching his wrinkly hand. "Do you feel better? I am certain that your friend will be back soon, just like our dear Master."
"Thank you," Aeyrin nodded quietly. She didn't feel better. Not by a long shot. But it was still sweet of the man to fuss over them like this. The second ghost was giving them some respectful space and the third one… he usually kept to himself. He still didn't realize that he was dead and his never-ending search for his family only tended to upset people further to the point where they endlessly tried to explain his undead state to him. He didn't appreciate that so he often stayed away from everyone. But not lord Trebius. He was always invested in the happenings around the temple as centuries passed. And he always cared deeply for its inhabitants.
"Master Therien, you said you made it back here because you received healing already?" Luscia broke the silence that followed as she watched Master Selvia apply a soothing balm on the soft remnants of lightning burns on the old man's skin. The wounds were a few days old and constantly renewed, not like a healed wound at all. It would even leave some scarring.
"My dear, there is no need to worry over my condition," Master Therien gave her a soft smile too, but Aeyrin felt him clench her hand more firmly, as if he was asking her silently not to prod. He knew that she would. That this dismissal wouldn't deter her.
If her head wasn't swirling with the horrors she was imagining were happening to Bishop right now, she wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about her old mentor's wounds either.
"Of course, we're concerned, Master," Vaselis piped up as he replenished the man's goblet with fresh water from a pitcher.
"My boy, would you bring me another handful of grapes, please?" The old man distracted the cleric instead with another request, earning only a brief nod in return. But unfortunately for him, Aeyrin wasn't the only one unwilling to leave the questions be.
"It would be helpful to know what they did to you. You know better than anyone how important it is to know that when I'm trying to heal you," Master Selvia scowled at him a little.
"They didn't heal us," Master Therien sighed in defeat. "They used a strange spell. It gave us some… energy and strength, but the pain was still there, even if milder after. The spell seemed to… aggravate it first, then soothe only a little."
Aeyrin suddenly realized that she must have been clenching his hand quite painfully. She couldn't help it. She didn't know which was worse – imagining this happening to him before, or imagining this happening to Bishop right now.
Master Therien gave Aeyrin a reassuring look, but as much as it usually helped, at this moment, she didn't feel very comforted. There was nothing that could comfort her right now. She kind of hoped that everyone would leave, letting Master Therien rest, so that she could just be able to curl up there and sob without having to hold it together in front of the others.
But before that could happen, the door to the catacombs opened once more and, after several hours, it was finally the long anticipated face of Brunwulf Free-Winter.
Aeyrin had the urge to spring up from her seat, but she didn't want to let go of Master Therien's hand either. So instead, she waited impatiently for him to make his way towards them. The whole place quieted. Everyone was curious to hear what fruits the man's efforts bore.
"Lady Aeyrin, a word?" He inclined his head to her instead of speaking in front of everyone.
She didn't have a good feeling about that.
She reluctantly let go of Master Therien's hand and walked towards the nobleman.
"What is it that you don't want to share, lord Free-Winter?" Her old mentor let out a weak chuckle before she could leave his side.
"Just… trust me," Brunwulf let out a sigh. "It's better to keep this more private."
"Is he…?" Aeyrin gasped in horror. What did that mean? Only bad news, surely. Was Bishop dead? That couldn't be true.
"No, no," Brunwulf quickly shook his head to ease her mind. "And there's a plan to get him out of that place. Just, come, let us speak alone."
"Am I not allowed to hear this either, friend? Since this is all because of my actions…" Therien scowled a bit, but Brunwulf merely waved him off again.
"No. You wouldn't like what I have to say."
…
Another jolt of searing pain spread through Bishop's body. He felt every inch of him tremble in the aftershock.
They've been at it for hours. And for hours, Bishop had always given them the one answer. It was the one thing he could think of that would not tie him to the dissidence. It was the one thing he could think of that would make it believable that he had freed the prisoners for his own agenda and that he wasn't working for or with anyone else.
His hands had been tied and he was hung from a hook on a ceiling in a particularly disturbing room. It wasn't like any torture room Bishop had seen before. He had seen mainly Thorn's and they were always full of rusty tools, dried blood and everything that screamed 'pain'. Sometimes chopped off parts or dead bodies. Really, it was what he was kind of used to seeing. He had fully expected to see that again.
The Thalmor torture room was… different though.
It was very clean. Disturbingly so. There were bright, shining, silver hooks on the ceiling and glass displays with knives and other torture tools, pinned there like precious trophies.
The room was so bright with several magical lights and the grey Imperial walls and floor were mostly covered with Thalmor-colored banners, and rugs. Did they change the rugs constantly to get the blood off?
If Bishop didn't know any better, he would think he was in some trophy room, commemorating Thalmor achievements.
Maybe it was, in a way. The prisoners they've broken may have been kind of trophies for them too.
But he would not break.
"One. More. Time," the Justiciar growled in frustration. "Where are the prisoners?!"
"Away from you, Thalmor scum," Bishop spat some blood at the man's direction, but unfortunately he missed. "Talos will fucking smite you all for this!"
That was a good choice, right? A delirious Talos fanatic going on a crusade to save others from the elves. And of course the Thalmor would believe it – it was exactly what they thought of Nords.
"Keep yapping, dog," the Justiciar scoffed before another bolt of powerful lightning shot from his hands and into Bishop's exposed chest. They had stripped him and took everything from him, including the only irreplaceable thing he had taken from his usual equipment – the ring from Aeyrin. It pissed him off to no end that they took that, but he was determined to get it back.
"That the worst you got?" Bishop spat at the Thalmor again. They had no idea who they were trying this shit on. He had been through worse. They could get all menacing with their creepy torture chamber, but he had been through much worse. Thorn made sure of that. At least it was useful for something.
They had only used the spells so far. And some Sentinels punched him, so he was pretty sure his nose was broken and he could always taste blood. Fucking metal gauntlets. But so far, the Justiciar didn't use the torture tools. Bishop wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. At least those tools he was used to. The shocks were fucking annoying. His whole body kept spasming uncontrollably and he knew that they were harder to heal.
But it would be fine. He would be fine.
He had a whole fucking temple full of people capable of helping him after, right? He just needed to hold on.
"Not nearly, no," the Justiciar smirked at him maliciously. "But if you keep being uncooperative, we'll show you even the worst we got. Trust me, Nord dog, you don't want to know. Now, tell me, how did you get in here? Who helped you?"
"My God helped me, you knife-eared fucker," Bishop spat back. He was not going to give anyone up, not even Carandil, Thalmor or not. Besides, who the fuck would help him if he ratted out his one ally in this place? He needed Carandil.
"This again?" the Justiciar rolled his eyes. "Well… as you wish."
The Altmer stepped away from Bishop and towards the wall plastered with glass displays. He grabbed a key from his belt and opened up one of the glass doors, uncovering the myriad of shiny, silver torture tools. This looked more like something maybe a priest of Arkay would use for embalming. Though those kinds of tools were usually much filthier and unkempt too from what Bishop had seen before. Who would keep their torture tools so meticulously spotless like a fine set of silverware?
The man took out a strange tool that Bishop was unfamiliar with. There were the usual prongs and screw-like things and some tongs and blades, but this one he had never seen before. It was a strange needle with a vial attached to it and some sort of mechanism. It kind of reminded him of that weird contraption they used to collect the elven blood for the Blackreach key.
The Justiciar removed the attached vial along with another small vial strapped to his belt. He filled the first one with the strange almost black liquid from the second before he attached it back onto the needle mechanism. Well… that was disturbing.
He approached again soon and before Bishop could say a word, he instantly plunged the needle into the side of his neck. Bishop hissed in pain, but it soon didn't bother him as much. There was just the sensation of something… pouring into him. What the fuck was that?
"Since you seem to care so much about that false God of yours, dog," the Justiciar scoffed. "I assure you, you will be denouncing him eagerly in a few moments. Then we'll see how much you still care for your secrets."
Pfft. That was pretty hilarious. He actually managed to convince the Justiciar that he really was a religious zealot. Good. Now he would be concentrating on breaking his 'spirit' before learning the truth. At least if Bishop couldn't stand the torture at any moment, he could easily throw away some denouncement of Talos just to make the Thalmor scum ease up and think he's winning.
But so far, even though the shock spells were pretty fucking painful and annoying, it wasn't even that bad. What even was that vial? It didn't do anything to him. Ridiculous.
Although it did feel like he could still tell that it was spreading through him. Through his veins. It kind of burned a little.
It… kind of burned a lot.
In a matter of seconds, Bishop felt like his blood was on fire. Like it was boiling under his skin and singing him from the inside. He couldn't help it. As much as he didn't want to, he let out an involuntary scream of pain. It became excruciating so fucking quickly.
"See? I'll leave you with this for a while. Then we'll see if you want the antidote," the Justiciar only chuckled while Bishop continued to scream.
In that moment, he kind of felt like he missed even Thorn's twisted treatment.
Maybe it was just the intensity of that moment.
But this felt worse.
…
"Are you really sure about this?" Aeyrin bit her lip nervously as she looked at the tavern in front of her.
It was no wonder that Brunwulf didn't want to divulge the plan in front of the denizens of the temple, especially Master Therien.
It was… horrible.
She understood that desperate times required desperate measures, but she didn't imagine this.
"Can't we just go out of town and find some bandits, please. It would be so much better," she tried to ask again, even though she had done so already. She knew it was pointless, but letting the man know just how much she loathed this plan made her feel at least a little better.
"You know that we can't. I don't have much space for negotiations here," Brunwulf sighed. "Carandil is the one in great danger now. He is convinced that the longer Bishop is questioned, the more likely it is that he will rat him out. It's… likely. I don't have to tell you that the Thalmor will do whatever they can to get any information out of him."
Aeyrin couldn't help but shudder at that, but that still didn't change the fact that this plan was just awful! There were other options.
"But we can get any Altmer. Someone who will actually attack us instead," she shook her head in exasperation. Blatant murder was really not sitting well with her. Even if she would stomach it for Bishop's sake, she still hoped to convince Brunwulf of an alternative. "I'm sure they couldn't tell."
"They could. They have records of Carandil in other places. He's an official member of the Dominion. They have records on all of them," Free-Winter let out another defeated sigh. "He won't enact the plan until he has this very man, with such similar features, dead and available to him."
That was the plan. It was really shocking when Aeyrin had heard it, but… it was also oddly satisfying to hear after what this 'facility' had done to the men she loved the most on Nirn. Carandil had it all figured out. As before, he didn't really provide any details, but he did tell them the core of the plan.
He was going to wipe out that outpost.
Not himself, of course, not really.
He was planning to put some sort of a slow-acting lethal poison into the food supplies that would eventually kill everyone there. By the time the first ones would fall, it would be too late for them to act. Carandil would pretend to be afflicted just like them while he would warn Bishop not to eat the food. And once they would be the only ones left, he would use this helpless Altmer, who seemed to have similar features to him, to take his 'place' before he would escape with Bishop.
The Thalmor apparently had records of everything beyond the outpost. But since Carandil was the records holder, he was able to intercept and change all the messages regarding Bishop coming out so far. That was uplifting. The Dominion would not have Bishop's description and no information that the Thalmor could get out of him in their interrogations. Once everyone at the outpost was dead, Bishop would be entirely free without having to fear retribution from them.
But the same couldn't be said for Carandil. That was why he had to fake his own death. And the same, unfortunately, could not be said of the prisoners. Even though the facility didn't have any solid evidence on them yet, not unless they got any in their interrogations, they would surely attempt to 'invite' the prisoners again into another facility and do the same all over again once they found out that this place had been wiped out.
Master Therien was no longer safe here. He was for now, but not after the outpost fell silent and the Dominion would send agents to investigate what happened.
But that had always been the case. The moment he went there voluntarily, there was no going back. Now they just had to take the few precious days they had to heal him and let him regain his strength before Brunwulf would smuggle him to Skyrim and to the secret chapel. Before it was too late.
There he would be safe. And Aeyrin had to admit to herself, she was kind of… happy with this. He would be there, in Skyrim. He would be so close. She could visit him anytime. They could have their wedding in Skyrim and he would be there too. It was more than she would dare hope.
But for all of this to work, there was still one heinous act to do.
One murder for Carandil.
It was disheartening. She had no idea who this man was besides the fact that he looked a little like Carandil. Maybe he had the same eyes and hair or height and that was enough. Carandil knew of him though. Maybe this man had always been his contingency plan from back when he began to risk it all and help the conspiracy.
But now this man had to die. And he had to die by the same poison that everyone in the outpost would.
And it was all up to her.
Brunwulf was hesitant to ask anyone in the temple to do this and he knew that even with Aeyrin's inhibition, she was the one who had the most interest in carrying this plan out. Maybe alongside Iranafire whose brother's life was at stake too, but she was just a teenager. That would be too risky and very uncomfortable for this plan. At least Aeyrin had some experience with taking a life, even if not like this.
And there was another part of the plan that could certainly not involve Iranafire.
It wasn't as simple as putting the poison into the man's food or drink. They needed his corpse. So they needed him somewhere alone.
And apparently, the Altmer was somewhat notorious for enjoying any female company that was around.
That was why Brunwulf even needed Aeyrin. She was pretty sure that he was willing to do this himself, if only to spare his allies this act. He was so surprisingly devoted to the conspiracy's efforts and he was helping with everything. But he couldn't carry out this plan alone, much like before.
The murder was definitely the worst part, but Aeyrin was hardly comfortable with… seducing the man either.
She really hoped to avoid as much physical contact with him as she could. She loathed the idea of doing this with anyone but Bishop, let alone for these purposes. Besides, she was not sure if she could ever feign such things as interest and attraction. She never really felt attracted to men unless she knew them a bit. In the beginning, she did objectively find Bishop attractive, and other men too, but she never really… felt anything until later. No thoughts of getting closer to him, not until she felt closer emotionally at least. It was definitely a little different from what she had observed from Bishop from the start – at least he acted and claimed that he wanted to get physically close to her instantly. Maybe she should tell this little fact about herself to Bishop sometime – he might stop getting jealous about every man near her. Then again, would she even want him to stop getting jealous? She knew by now that she did like it when he got like that.
But in any case, she was definitely not good at playing these games and fooling people.
But apparently there was no other way. She needed to make this man think that she was interested in him, make him take her somewhere remote, likely his home, and then… she had to feed him the poison somehow.
This was nerve-wracking.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what else is there to be done," Brunwulf gave her a regretful look. "Carandil is calling the shots now. He is the only one who can do anything without having the Dominion after us. Or having them kill Bishop. An assault is out of the question, even with your abilities."
Right. That was true. And besides, there were no 'abilities' to speak of anyway, not with her lycanthropy.
Oh Gods! The lycanthropy! She almost forgot about that!
It was way past midnight – almost morning. And today was the thirteenth again. Another full Secunda would be up in the skies tonight.
She needed to think about that on top of all of this.
No matter. This had to be done. And then she needed to disappear when the night came and chain herself somewhere, likely without Bishop.
The thought made her stomach clench, but no more than anything else today had.
Gods, she was kind of glad that Master Therien knew nothing about any of this, not about this awful plan and not about the lycanthropy.
He would be so disappointed in what she had become.
Aeyrin exhaled a determined breath and she nodded at Brunwulf. It was time for him to get scarce so that she could get on with it. It was late, she was so tired, but she could not rest. Not yet. She needed to get this over with and then just wait and pray that Bishop would come back to her soon.
Relatively soon. She knew this would all take a while, especially until everyone in that outpost was poisoned.
"Good luck. And… I'm sorry you have to do this. I hope it will go… quickly, at least," he gave her a soft smile and soon he turned on his heel, leaving her standing there in front of the Grey Mare – the place where the Altmer spent all his nights.
Aeyrin just hoped that it wasn't too late and that he would still be there. Carandil said in the message he had left at the dead drop for Brunwulf, outlining the entire plan, that the man did not leave until the morning hours or until he found someone to leave with. But many of the regulars weren't interested in him.
She hoped that tonight would be no exception.
She wore her usual clothes now. She certainly didn't want to stay in the temple robes for this – she couldn't have the people of Chorrol associating someone willing to go with that man with the temple. And she didn't want the man to worry that she was just going to try and 'save' him from his overindulgent ways. Not that the temple cared for anyone's dalliances, but their vows did give way to so many such rumors.
She walked inside on unsure feet and, once the merry sounds of the tavern and the smell of alcohol filled her senses, she promptly took stock of the patrons.
He was there. At least she was pretty sure of it. There weren't any other Altmer around and the place wasn't that big to hide them. But there was one way to find out. She was certainly not going to approach him. There was no way in Oblivion she would do that even if she actually wanted the man.
Instead, she walked towards the bar and sat there on one of the stools. The innkeeper was in front of her momentarily, with how most of her patrons were already kind of passed out or drunk, and Aeyrin promptly ordered a glass of wine. Some liquid courage. She really needed it now. And some actually good wine always made her feel a little better. Even in this place, that was certainly nothing like the Oak and Crosier, it was miles better than anything she would find in Skyrim. Aside from that Solitude spiced wine, that is.
Her wine was ready soon and she began to sip it tentatively, keeping herself from downing the whole goblet outright. Or maybe she should? Maybe the man would approach her sooner if he thought her inhibitions were lowered. Then again, maybe she wouldn't be able to do as well if her inhibitions were lowered.
But it was just one goblet. For now.
Her tentative sips turned a bit deeper soon. That kind of hit the spot.
She sat there quietly for a while, listening to the few patrons who were still laughing and singing there in the corner of the common room.
It didn't take very long. Several minutes at the most. Soon, she felt a tapping on her shoulder, tearing her attention away from the singing crowd.
She turned around on her stool, only to see her 'target' standing there next to her, smiling brightly with palpable inebriation visible on his face. At least that would make it easier.
"Hey there, pretty. Haven't seen you around before," he sat down a little clumsily at the stool next to her.
That was probably a good thing that he hadn't seen her around. She'd been promenading around town in her cleric robes for days now, but he might have been largely ignoring the priests.
"I'm… just visiting the city. For a while," Aeyrin shrugged a little, but she made sure to try and smile at the man warmly, not to appear disinterested. It was… hard to smile. His presence made her gut clench again. It was probably mostly because she knew what she needed to do. She would hardly be that put off by a person only addressing her.
"I hope you're enjoying the sights here. I sure am," he grinned at her as his eyes roamed up and down her form. Ugh. Really? But… at least he was actually hitting on her. She was quite worried that he wouldn't approach her at all – that he wouldn't be interested in her. That was so petty, especially since she wasn't interested in him, but she couldn't help it. If a man, who had been said to be interested in basically any female company, wouldn't find her attractive, that would be a real blow to her self-esteem.
"I… I am," Aeyrin couldn't help but get flustered at his blatant stares and she felt her cheeks go red. Though it was far cry from the feeling she got when Bishop flustered her with compliments and hungry looks. The purpose beneath this entire game just kept making her queasy.
"Buy you another?" He nodded at her goblet. She hadn't finished yet, but she kind of felt like downing the rest quickly anyway.
She did just that – there wasn't that much left anyway – and she placed her goblet back onto the bar with a demure nod. The Altmer only had to snap his fingers and the innkeeper was in front of them, grabbing Aeyrin's goblet in order to fill it again.
"Ryaldil, by the way," he offered his outstretched hand to her before she got her drink. He did seem pretty drunk by the way he moved, but he was surprisingly eloquent, given that. He wasn't even slurring. Aeyrin wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Him being too drunk would have made the eventual poisoning easier, but it would also likely make him more brazen with her, or it would possibly make him pass out before he could take her home.
"Ae… Aedra…"
Aedra?!
She realized mid-word that it might be a good idea not to give this man her real name, especially not anywhere anyone could overhear, in case something went wrong. But this was the first word that popped into her head instead. Who in Oblivion would name a child 'Aedra'?
"Ah. Really? That's very unusual," the Altmer chuckled. Fortunately he didn't seem to think she was lying. Because anyone who could lie would surely come up with something better and more believable.
"You can't make stuff like that up," Aeyrin chuckled nervously. At least no normal person could.
"I think it's… fitting, actually," he grinned. "Only a Goddess could look like this."
Ew. Really?
That was way too cheesy, even for her. Did that usually work or was he just drunk enough not to be able to come up with anything else? And now she had to pretend to be charmed by that.
She tried to giggle at the comment, but it really felt like it came off more disturbed than anything. Although he didn't seem to notice. He took her hand in his to complete the introductions and he promptly placed an overly wet kiss on the back of it.
Gods, this felt so… wrong. Not only did she really not want to have anything to do with this man, but doing this for Bishop, despite it being something he would despise more than anything, was just… strange. At least the man didn't repulse her physically that much, he was even quite good-looking. But this whole charade was the most disgusting part. And every time he touched her only reminded her of all of it.
She held still while he kissed her hand though. And she tried her best not to give out even a hint of the instinctive jolt, telling her to flinch, that she felt when he scooted his stool closer to hers so that their knees would keep touching.
"How long are you staying for?" He asked when her wine goblet was delivered again and the innkeeper stopped paying attention to them once more.
"I… I don't know yet. I just have some… business here," Aeyrin stammered a little. It was as good an answer as any. Maybe she should get more proactive. More… flirty? She wasn't sure if he was convinced of her interest. But she felt so uncomfortable doing that. She could barely do that with Bishop
"Then you're staying for tonight at least," he chuckled. Well that was kind of given, wasn't it? Though she could possibly be leaving after a few goblets of wine, so she nodded at him in response.
"So, you're a merchant or something?" He asked idly as he gestured to the innkeeper to get himself another drink as well. "You must be doing pretty well for yourself." His eyes roamed over her outfit until they stopped on the glittering ruby nestled below her cleavage. Or maybe they just stopped in her cleavage. He kept staring in that direction and Aeyrin had the urge to squirm a little, but she tried to resist it as best she could.
"I do alright," she smiled a bit. He really didn't need to know anything real about her.
"That's good," he smiled too. A second later, he placed his free hand on her knee and squeezed as if in reassurance, but he never withdrew. "Do you like it here in our lovely Chorrol?"
"It's a nice place," Aeyrin nodded. She loved Chorrol, of course. Most of it anyway. Gods, she hoped that he didn't live in the slums. She really didn't want to go back there. "This place is a little… dead though," she chuckled a bit.
"Well, it is pretty late," Ryaldil smirked before he leaned closer to her. His voice got quieter, almost a whisper, and she felt his alcohol-soaked breath on her face. "We could go somewhere else though, if you like."
"Where would we go?" She looked at him curiously, trying to seem intrigued by the suggestion. The man had suggested this fast. That was good. She really hoped not to have to spend hours here, talking to him.
"Let's finish our drinks and go. I'll show you," he kept his face close to hers, still whispering against her cheek. His hand moved from her knee to her ear and he brushed a few locks of hair behind it. "I have a nice little place nearby. It's very cozy. You'll love it. What do you say?"
"A-alright," she stammered a little. This was it. Once they got there, she needed to poison him as soon as possible. To prevent him touching her as much as possible.
"Good. I thought you might," he smirked smugly as he finally pulled away from her a little. His hand went right back to her knee though and his eyes returned to her cleavage with an eager, hungry stare that made chills run down her spine. "Drink fast. I can't wait to be alone with you."
She couldn't wait either.
She really wanted to be done with this already.
…
Aeyrin didn't expect him to get so brazen so quickly.
The entire way to his house, Ryaldil was so handsy. He kept guiding her by holding his hand around her hips, moving it up and down her flank, eventually down to her buttocks. He even tried slipping his palm below the fabric of her clothes before she flinched. And he kept pressing his lips against her cheek and neck, even though she kept telling him not to get so 'friendly' out in the open. He was relentless. And she couldn't resist him too much, otherwise he might just give up on trying to convince her.
This was a nightmare. But she had to endure it for Bishop's sake. This was the only way.
At least he didn't live far. And he didn't live in the slums. He had a small house near the temple. She really hoped that nobody she knew saw her going there with this man.
But if she thought that he was bad outside, the second he closed the door of the house behind them, she was brought back to the unfortunate reality.
He lunged at her immediately, pinning her to the closed door so abruptly that the wood creaked behind her back. His arms wrapped around her waist eagerly and his hands instantly went to her buttocks again. He kissed her again on her neck, first briefly, but soon his wet tongue was running over her skin there, making her feel so queasy once more.
She desperately wanted to push him away. She knew she shouldn't really feel guilty for Bishop's sake, but she did. She hated that someone else was touching her like this and she hated that she knew how much it would upset Bishop to know this. But she didn't know what else to do.
But maybe she could at least slow him down a little.
"H-hang on, please," she tried to push him away from her gently, but he didn't react. In a second, she could feel his teeth nip the skin of her shoulder. Not really nip. Bite. It kind of hurt. It was so different from when Bishop did this when she actually felt some… passion for him. Now she felt nothing but discomfort and anxiety.
She yelped at the sensation and pushed him away again, more firmly this time. That finally worked.
"Heh, sorry," the Altmer chuckled at her wryly. "I got a little carried away. Guess you are just looking tasty."
Ugh. Now she started to worry that he was a vampire or something. She had had enough of those for a lifetime. As if their last troubles in Falkreath weren't enough, now she had to go through these horrible things again to get Bishop from another prison. She knew it was not his fault in the slightest, but she couldn't help but be mad at the world for throwing these things at them constantly. She just wanted him back. She wanted him and Master Therien safe and sound both. Was that really so much to ask?
"I… uhm… thank you," she stammered nervously, trying to hide her discomfort. "I just… do you think we could get another drink?" She looked at him pleadingly. She needed to poison him already. She couldn't take his pawing much longer.
"Oh. Sure, of course. Not a great host, am I?" He laughed merrily. Through all this, he didn't seem to notice Aeyrin's uncertainty and nervousness at all. That was good. She was trying to hide them as best she could, but she still worried he might sense her apprehension.
"It's alright. I'm just a little… parched," she smiled wryly.
"You like the local wine? I have a bottle here somewhere." He wrapped his arm around her waist again, still letting his palm roam over her freely, as he led her into the next room – the kitchen.
He didn't let go of her for a second as he grabbed some unlabeled bottle from one of his cabinets, along with two goblets. Good. He was getting some too. Aeyrin was worried that he wouldn't. She had three small vials of the poison with her – in case she poisoned something he didn't end up ingesting. Luckily Brunwulf counted on that. Maybe he was just not so convinced that she was up to the task, but then again, he wouldn't exactly be wrong there.
Ryaldil didn't pour them the wine yet – for that he would have to let go of her at least for a moment. She really hoped he would, but instead, he started to lead her into another room. The dread in her only exacerbated as they reached the destination – the bedroom.
The house was decent – not a shack, not filthy nor shabby. She and Bishop had slept, and done other stuff, in much worse places before and many times. But still, this just felt like the worst place to be to her.
The Altmer finally let go of her as he placed the goblets and the bottle on a cupboard there. Aeyrin quickly tore her eyes from the bed in the small room and concentrated on the fact that he had just uncorked the bottle.
"Why… why don't I pour us a drink while you…" While he… what? She had no idea what she could tell him to do. But fortunately, he seemed to have some.
"Sure, I'll make myself more comfortable," he winked.
What did that mean? Ugh, it didn't matter. She just needed to poison his wine covertly.
He walked away from her and she promptly turned towards the bottle and started pouring. She didn't even look back with how much she was hurrying. She grabbed the first small vial from her belt and emptied it into one of the glasses. Now she really needed to remember which one it was. It would be a disaster if she messed that up.
She grabbed both the goblets, the poisoned one was in her left hand, and she turned around to face him again.
Oh Gods!
Was he naked?!
He was in the bed, under the blanket, but definitely topless. She just hoped he still left something on the bottom for now.
Dammit, and now she had to go over to him with the goblets. He gave her a sly grin and he promptly patted the free space on the bed next to him.
The poison was slow-acting. This was bad. She had really expected more preambles to waste some time. Was it always like this? Were people who had these one-night encounters always just jumping into bed right away? That was what it was about, sure, but she still expected some… buildup. Some anticipation. Not that it would do anything for her in this situation, but it was still a little surprising.
No wonder Bishop told her it was much more boring than what they had together.
Gods, she just wanted him back right now so much. To run out of this room and hide herself into his arms, no matter where and how.
But the more important question was: what now?
What choice did she have? She needed to get that poison to him.
She tried to hide her nervous shuddering breath with a weak smile as she walked over to the bed. If she had known that things would be moving this fast, she would have poured that poison into his drink back at the bar. That would be the perfect timing. But now, she had to do whatever she could to just keep him off her as much as possible.
"Here," she offered him the goblet from her left hand promptly as she sat beside him on the bed. She made sure to keep some distance between them. She really didn't want to find out whether he kept some clothes on his lower half. It was bad enough already.
She clanked her goblet against his and took a sip. But much to her dismay, instead of taking one himself, he concentrated on getting her closer again. He wrapped his arm around her waist once more and pulled her towards him across the bed. Aeyrin wavered in shock at the motion and her first instinct was to pull away immediately, but she quickly realized that she shouldn't.
She let him pull her closer, still trying to sip her wine so that he would too, but he was much more interested in her again. When she took a break in between her sips, he instantly tried to kiss her. As many times before this night, she moved her head to the side so that he would kiss her jawline or neck instead. She really didn't want to kiss him. To taste him.
"Hehe, you really like this, don't you?" he chuckled against her skin as he kissed her neck vigorously.
"Uhm-hmm," she nodded, trying to hide the discomfort from her tone. "You're… you're not thirsty?"
Drink, dammit, drink!
"Oh I am definitely thirsty," his merry laugh rang near her ear. "For you."
The moment he said it, he got fully absorbed in her again. He pulled her closer once more, until she was pressed uncomfortably to his bare chest. And he tried to envelop his other arm around her too, despite it still holding the goblet. But with that motion, he miscalculated and hit his knuckles on a nightstand instead.
He let out a brief hiss of pain and the grip on the goblet loosened instantly. Aeyrin first felt something wet spread over her thigh before she heard the goblet clatter against the ground and realized what happened.
"Oh Gods!"
He spilled it! No!
"It's alright," he didn't mind in the slightest and now he seemed to be content with having his hands free to grope her again.
"But… but… your blanket. We should clean that," Aeyrin desperately tried to think of something to make him stop so that she could find a way to get that poison into him again.
"I don't care about that, come here," he pulled her closer again and when one of his hands started to roam around her thighs, he seemed to be even more giddy when he realized the wine had spilled on her trousers. "We should really get you out of the wet clothes. That's not healthy."
Dammit!
"Uhm… are you sure? I should at least pour you another…" she tried again, but the man wouldn't have it.
"No more wine." To punctuate the point, he suddenly whacked her own hand that had still been holding her goblet. She let go at the start and the goblet was sent flying, along with what little wine remained there, against the nearby wall.
Well… that was that. No wine. Now she had to think. And really quickly.
But it was really hard to think. Especially when Ryaldil decided to be more proactive himself.
He suddenly grabbed her by her wrists and flipped her over to her back, forcing her fully onto the bed at last. He was on top of her in a second. Without the blanket. Though she was relieved to find out that he had left some flimsy undergarments on, she was definitely not relieved at how he pressed himself against her, clearly very excited already.
Divines, please help me get out of this mess.
She couldn't think straight. She could think about nothing but the rising panic as she felt him all over her. She wasn't sure what to panic about first – about how he kept rubbing his groin against her, about how he held her hands so firmly in his grip that she wished she still could Shout so that she could finally get him off her, or about how his other hand so quickly snuck below the hems of her shirt and traveled up towards her breast alarmingly fast.
He was quite aggressive. Her hands hurt in his grip and he squeezed her breast so much she let out a yelp of pain. But that didn't deter him in the slightest. He bit her again, this time into her neck, and another jolt of panic enveloped her when she remembered her brief previous vampire theory.
Why was he so rough? Gods. She may have enjoyed this from time to time with Bishop, but this was really not the same when she didn't want the man in the slightest. She felt so horrible. But she kept reminding herself that she was here to do much worse to this man.
"You taking something not to get knocked up?" His voice startled her from her panic when it whispered in her ear, as if he was trying to make that question sound seductive or something. Ugh. This was bad. What could she do? She really needed a moment's respite from his pawing and from the awful clenching in her gut to think!
She couldn't even answer him. But she didn't realize that the panic could get even worse before he spoke again.
"Hehe, I kinda hope not," he huffed against her ear, biting it painfully in between his worst.
What?!
He 'hoped not'?! What in the Void was wrong with him? He wanted to 'knock up' a random girl he picked up late at night and would never see again?
A second later, he finally stopped mauling her breast, but instead, much to her disgust, his hand snuck below her instead, beneath her wet trousers and undergarments, to squeeze her buttcheek with equal fervor.
"I really wouldn't mind fucking that divine ass of yours." She could imagine the lascivious grin he gave her alongside that sentence with disturbing vividness, even if she couldn't really see him at that angle.
What. The. Fuck?!
Was he serious? Didn't Bishop assure her that people didn't get too 'adventurous' on these one-night encounters? Not that she was planning on allowing him any 'adventuring', but the panic really set in now.
She couldn't help it. The franticness took over. If she could, she knew that she would Shout right at that moment. But she was unable to defend herself that way.
She was still stronger than him though.
She stopped worrying about how he would think she didn't want him. This was too much. Way past what she was willing to allow. She would figure something else out but she needed him off her this instant.
She managed to dislodge one of her arms from his grip and she promptly grabbed his shoulder in a tight, aggressive grip, digging her nails in to cause some pain and make him let go of her for a moment.
"Oh yeah, there we go!" He laughed instead. "Give me the worst you got!"
Fine!
That was it. She couldn't take it anymore. He didn't let go even a little.
Aeyrin yanked her other hand away from his grip and pushed him off with all her might. He didn't expect that at all and he was sent tumbling away from her.
Not just from her. From the bed too.
He fell from the bed in a second and Aeyrin only heard a crash as his head collided with the nightstand on his side.
Oh Gods! No!
That was not meant to happen.
Ryaldil let out a pained groan and she quickly jumped up from the bed and ran to check on him. This was definitely not how he was meant to die by her hand.
"I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" She knelt by his side and brushed his blonde hair a little from his forehead. There was a bit of blood there. Nothing she couldn't fix. But she hoped that there was no more damage.
"I'm… fine. Wow, didn't think you'd like to get rough like that," he chuckled again. He seemed to be permanently in a good mood, despite what happened.
And it was good that he interpreted it as her just being rough and not her trying to get away from him. That still…
Oh! Wait.
That gave her an idea.
"I… I do. You want to see?" She smirked at him a little.
"You bet," he grinned. "Can't wait to see what the Goddess has in store for me."
"Alright. Just let me take care of you a little first," she smiled. Good. This was a great plan. Why didn't she try to take charge in the very beginning? She knew she should have been more proactive in her approach. She could have spared herself so many things that disgusted her to her core.
No matter. It was done. She was going to finish this now.
Her hand lit up with magic and, soon, the head wound was all gone. Ryaldil only let out a little sigh of awe, but he didn't ask her any questions about the magic, fortunately. So refreshing. People in Cyrodiil were not flinching from any minor spell like the Nords tended to.
"Lie down on the bed for me, will you?" She gave him a sly wink and the man looked all too eager to obey. He practically hopped off the ground and sprawled himself on the bed again. His excitement didn't diminish in the slightest, as was clearly visible, despite his undergarments obscuring the full view.
"I'll just get you a drink first. You'll need some for this," Aeyrin chuckled, earning an eager nod from him.
Gods, finally. Now just to finish this.
She grabbed one of the goblets from the ground and repeated the familiar process again with her back to him – wine, then poison. She brought the goblet to him and waited by the bed pointedly until he actually finished all of it this time. He was so obedient all of the sudden, so eager to see what she would do to him.
Oh she had a plan alright. She did feel so… rotten doing this, but what choice did she have?
She grabbed the blanket and rolled it into a provisional long string.
"Hands to the backboard," she ordered. That only seemed to excite him more.
"Oooh, I like this. Are you going to order me to 'worship' you?" He chuckled, but he did obey and he promptly pressed his hands to the backboard, towards the wooden bars there.
Aeyrin didn't waste any time before she started to tie the rolled up blanket around his wrists and the bars. She made very sure the knots were secure. She even yanked on them a few times. He was not going anywhere.
"I don't think I'm getting out of this one," he laughed, trying to yank on the ties himself. "Now, what are you going to do to me?"
"I… I am really sorry," she sighed. He was not getting out of this. But he could still call for help. She had to do something about that. While he stared at her in confusion, she grabbed his discarded shirt off the ground and she tore off a sleeve. He wouldn't need it anymore anyway.
She rolled the sleeve up and when he opened his mouth to question her, she stuffed the fabric into it. He was so shocked, and still willing to obey, that he didn't even try to stop her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this, but I have no choice," she shook her head regretfully. This was awful. One of the worst things she had ever done. She tried to tell herself that Carandil was the mastermind behind all this, but… it rang hollow.
But what else could she do? An innocent man had to die to save Bishop. And Carandil too.
Maybe he wasn't innocent. Surely it wasn't just about the resemblance. Carandil must have known something about this man, why he deserved to die.
Yeah, that was definitely the case. She had to tell herself that. She had to.
Ryaldil let out a few confused, muffled sounds. It was painful to hear. He would spend a few hours there like this.
But maybe it was deserved. She kept trying to convince herself of that.
"I'm sorry," she said it again. But it wouldn't change what she had done.
She needed to get out of that place now.
She couldn't look anymore.
…
The wait had been tormenting.
She knew that it would take time. She knew that it would take a few hours before Ryaldil died, poor man, tied to the bed and denied the pleasure he had been expecting. She still felt so guilty about this. She wasn't sure if she would ever forget the look on his face when she just… left him there. She had no idea how the poison acted, but she really hoped it would be quick and painless when it came.
She came back to Brunwulf's room, told him what happened and where the man lived, and then she was more than happy to leave the rest to him. She returned to the temple promptly to be with Master Therien again. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, so she might as well stay in the undercroft and watch over him.
Her mentor tried to pry. When he woke up upon her arrival, he tried to find out what the plan for Bishop's and Carandil's freedom was with palpable concern. But she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him what monstrosity she had resorted to. And even though he still tried to drag it out of her, when he saw how upset it was making her, he let it go and offered his comfort instead.
That was why she loved him so much. He was worried about her, but ultimately, he always understood that she needed time. He understood that back when she couldn't talk about her father and Ri'zhassa, he understood when she couldn't talk about the fire she had set. She always told him eventually. Now she wasn't sure if she could. But… it was nice just knowing he was there for her now, even though he didn't know why.
The next day was excruciating. Bishop was still not back, though she knew it would take a long time for everything, but every minute seemed to drag on forever.
Brunwulf only came before noon to tell Aeyrin that everything was going according to plan so far – that meant that he had managed to move Ryaldil's corpse to the designated spot. Now it was up to Carandil to handle the rest and start with the poisoning.
Gods, how she hoped that nothing would go wrong.
Master Therien was relieved that their plan was working, but he was still clearly very uncomfortable with the fact that he knew nothing about it. Most of the others tied to the conspiracy, the clerics and Master Selvia, didn't seem to mind. They were used to being kept in the dark about the things they couldn't help with, but not Master Therien. He had been one of the main organizers from the start when Aeyrin had dragged him into this. And now he could surely tell that they were doing very shady things which he wouldn't like one bit.
But neither Aeyrin nor Brunwulf were willing to tell him the truth.
As frustrating as it had been for the man, he let it go eventually and instead he concentrated on his own recovery as well as reassuring Aeyrin all day. It was no use, however. Bishop was still not back and she had no idea what that meant.
And if that wasn't bad enough, tonight was the night. Full Secunda. She would have to leave the temple and the comfort of her mentor's presence, she would have to chain herself somewhere outside and turn into a monster without knowing whether Bishop was alright at all.
The night came way too soon. She didn't want to leave, but she had to.
Although she didn't expect to have to explain herself.
"Aeyrin, dear, where are you off to this late?"
She thought that Master Therien was already asleep. It was late and there was no one else there in the undercroft. She wasn't going to leave him completely alone of course – she would ask the ghosts to alert someone should something go wrong. But once she stood up from the chair she had by his cot, he opened his eyes and addressed her.
She was already bathed and ready to spend the night on that chair, presumably.
"I… uhm… you should rest, Master," she squeezed his shoulder encouragingly instead of answering.
"You think that after all these years I can't tell when you're being evasive?" He chuckled a bit, but his hand moved to hers soon enough to squeeze her back. "Where are you going?"
It was sweet that he didn't want her to leave. She didn't want to leave either, but she had to for the night. She could never let them know what she was and she could never expose them to such danger.
"I just need something from the chambers. Go to sleep, I'll be back," she gave him a reassuring smile.
"It's alright, dear, I'll wait up until you come back," he smiled back.
What? Why? He was still tired. Did he need her by his side that much? He would be asleep. As touched as she was by this, it really made her nervous. How could she tell him that she would be gone all night without it raising more questions?
"You really don't need to wait, I'll be back soon, I promise," she nodded at him reassuringly.
But she only got a knowing chuckle in return.
"You said you only need to fetch something. Why wouldn't I wait for you?"
"I… I need to find it first. It might take a while. And you need your rest," she tried to weasel out of this. Why was he so insistent? It was strange.
"What are you looking for?" He gave her a challenging look.
Oh Gods. She knew that look. He always had that look whenever he knew all too well that she was up to no good and trying to hide it. How did he do that? How did he always know?
"It… it doesn't matter. It's late. Just… go to sleep. It might take a long time. Maybe all night…" she stammered. She had no idea what to tell him. He definitely suspected her of something, she just had no idea what. Why would he suspect her of anything? He couldn't possibly know that she had been turned into a monster, could he?
"My dear, you've been fidgeting about him not being back all day and I can tell when you're up to something," Master Therien let out a sigh. "Be patient. He will be back, but Brunwulf said it would take time. I will not have you doing anything stupid in the meantime."
Oh. He thought that she was going to try and free Bishop herself. If only she could.
"I'm not. I promise, I'm not. I just… I need to go," she squeezed his hand back reassuringly. This wasn't to take any stupid risks. It was to prevent them.
"And you won't tell me why?" He scowled at her with palpable worry on his face.
"I… I can't. I'm sorry. I'm not going to do anything stupid though. I swear. And I'll be back in the morning. I was going to tell the ghosts, but I can go wake up Luscia or…" Aeyrin stammered again. She was nervous that he would press her for answers, even though he didn't tend to do that, but still, she couldn't tell him a thing.
"Don't disturb her sleep. I'll be alright," he sighed in defeat. "And I better see you here when I wake up. Promise me?"
"Yes, Master. I promise," she smiled back at him. That she could promise. It would be fine. Just like any other of those nights, even without Bishop this time.
It was painful to see Master Therien so worried about her, being kept in the dark.
But she couldn't bear to tell him.
She couldn't bear disappointing him so much.
…
Two nights in this place.
It felt like two months.
At least Bishop could still tell what time it was, but only because he knew from his previous information. He knew when the prison guards were switching shifts and he knew that he would get fed once a day, right before the healer came after noon.
There was some difference in the prisoners' schedule for him though. They got 'interrogated' through the mornings and then left suffering with whatever they were left with for the rest of the day. He was interrogated in the afternoon too. What joy.
That was all day yesterday and what had passed of today. He was now finally dragged back to his cell for his meal, barely able to even move.
He thought that he was ready for this. Ready for any torture they had in store for him. And why wouldn't he be? He had spent years under Thorn's thumb, punished for misbehaving constantly. It was true that torture just always felt the same – there was nothing easier with time, it was just as awful the first day as it was the second and the hundredth. But knowing what to expect made it kind of easier to manage. That's what Bishop had learned after Thorn's treatments.
Thalmor torture though… it was nothing like he had expected.
There was a lot of pain, as there often was, but it was still very different. Thorn liked to pile it up, liked to make his victims scream as much as possible, doing one thing after another. The Thalmor were much more about… persistence than intensity. Poisons, spells, and it was not just about pain either. Sometimes they confused his head for hours with frenzy spells, or put him to sleep at last with some concoction, only to wake him up barely a second later with some intense pain. It was a different kind of torment to be constantly denied even a moment of relief.
And the same went for the 'healing'. It wasn't healing! It felt like it just… kept him up so that he could continue to experience the pain without passing out.
But he held strong.
He was not going to crack. He was kind of on the verge of denouncing Talos, not that he cared, but he knew that once he did and the Thalmor had their fun, they would concentrate on the other questions more – like about who helped him. Bishop couldn't risk Carandil being caught. It could give away the dissidents. And the elf certainly wouldn't be able to help Bishop after that.
Carandil was going to help him, wasn't he? He had to. He had to know that his own safety was at stake too in case Bishop couldn't take it and fessed up.
The Thalmor even found the secret passage eventually. They had been scouring the prison until they discovered it too. But it was too late. The prisoners were all hiding somewhere. Fortunately they didn't bother going after them with that head start. They would likely be making some attempts later, but now everyone's attention was on Bishop and on the likely rat in their ranks. It would change eventually, but for now, the outpost was still scrambling from what had happened and the prisoners were safe from them. As long as Carandil didn't let them alert the rest of the Dominion about the events.
Ugh, it was no use. Bishop kept running plans and scenarios and eventualities in his head, but the pain was really distracting. He could barely think straight. It was messed up that he was looking forward to the faint relief of the healing, even though he knew it would just prevent him from blissfully passing out.
A tray with an old loaf of braided bread and a goblet of water was passed through an opening at the bottom of the bars soon enough. He wasn't even hungry with the weird taste in his mouth from all the blood and throwing up after those poisons. But he had to gather his strength for the rest of the day.
He let out a pained groan as he reached out for the tray to pull it closer. Everything hurt so fucking much. Even that small motion.
He grabbed the bread first, hard as a rock. Chewing it would be painful too, just like yesterday. It even felt like there was some napkin or something baked to the bottom of it as he took it in his hands.
Bishop turned the bread over to see what it was, but then, suddenly, it felt like all his pain was forgotten for a moment. There was something stuck on the bottom of the bread, but it wasn't a napkin. It was a parchment with a message.
.
Don't eat anything.
I'll get you out soon.
…
That afternoon, nobody came for him.
Not even the healer.
Bishop was starting to get really nervous about that, but he couldn't help but be hopeful after that message. His stomach was growling and he had been tempted several times to quiet it with the bread, but he had to hold on. What was going on? Was the food poisoned? Was everything poisoned? Nobody came for him. Maybe Carandil managed to poison the supplies, maybe the flour or water or something. Bishop didn't even touch the water, even though the note only spoke about 'eating'. He didn't want to risk it.
The lingering pain was worse than without the healing. He was pretty sure that the healer usually did something to ease the effect of those poisons, because Bishop could still feel them inside, more than yesterday.
He had been waiting for hours, but after the food, nothing happened. He tried to talk to the guards, but they ignored him entirely. Until something finally happened.
He watched one of the Sentinels leaning on the wall slide down and sprawl herself on the floor, armor clattering and all. The second one laughed at the stunt, but then… the guard didn't get up.
For a moment, Bishop thought that she was really that deeply asleep, but then the second one started to wake her. And still nothing.
Was she dead?
The second Sentinel didn't say a word after his efforts had been fruitless. He came to Bishop's cell, yanked the bars a few times to make sure it was all securely locked, and then he rushed out of the prison.
Huh, probably to get help.
Did she really die? Just now? Bishop must have been right about the poison.
And then the waiting continued.
A few more hours at least. Time was getting funny without his daily routine of torture and ineffective healing. But it certainly felt like hours.
Nobody came to investigate the dead guard and he had no idea why. What was happening in there?
Sometimes he heard some shouting and people rushing by the prison doors. But nobody ever came inside. It was beyond frustrating, but at the very least, something was happening. Something that could only be a good sign for him, right? If only he could focus more on the hope and less on the pain.
Eventually though, that moment came when the door opened. And for once, what he saw was an actual friendly face.
"You didn't eat? Good," Carandil looked promptly at the untouched bread on the tray. "Everybody's dead. Me included. We need to get out of here."
"W-what?" Bishop stammered. He wasn't really able to talk much. Or move much. What did he mean 'me included'?
"Shit, did the healer not make it here? Ugh, that's gonna be a pain," Carandil groaned. "Fine. You'll need potions. And some… clothes. Then we're going," he grumbled as he started unlocking Bishop's cell.
Clothes would definitely be useful. The Thalmor didn't even bother giving him the prison rags that the others had before.
But that only reminded him of something he missed much more than clothes.
"My rings," he let out a faint croak.
"What?" Carandil only shook his head in confusion.
"Rings. My rings. Silver, dragon. And shiny one." Explaining shit was hard. It would be better with those potions that were mentioned.
"'Rings'? Are you serious? Some stupid rings?" The elf groaned once more in frustration. "You are a pain in the ass, you know that? Why would you let yourself be caught anyway? I thought you were supposed to be good at this. And now I gotta do all this shit and kill everyone and myself too. Yeah, sure they're kinda shitty people, but this job paid well, you know? Now it's all gone."
Bishop wasn't even able to process much of that rant. It was hard to concentrate.
"Just… stay put," Carandil finally sighed in defeat. "I'll get you your fucking rings."
…
It felt like it's been so long, but things have been finally looking up.
It was almost dusk, but the sun still illuminated the sky in an orange hew, drowning the walls of Chorrol in light.
Once Bishop had enough healing potions in him to numb most of the pain and to make him incredibly woozy and light-headed, Carandil finally explained what happened. It was even harder to concentrate than with that pain, but it hardly mattered.
What mattered was that they were both alive and out of that place. And Bishop wasn't really too sorry to see that whole outpost wiped out. That was another important piece of information that he had retained. That and the fact that Carandil made short work of any correspondence that spoke of Bishop. Nothing mentioning him or the prisoners' escape went out in all three days.
So Bishop was safe. Relatively. He just needed to get to a safe place. To a sanctuary. It was a good thing that he had that at his disposal. They were almost there. They only needed to get inside the city, into the temple and pass out in the infirmary. Well, he would pass out. Carandil was fine.
"We split here," the elf suddenly interrupted Bishop's desperate stumbling towards the gates.
"What? You're not… coming with me?" Bishop scowled as he slurred the words a little, still largely hazed from the potions. Sometimes he tripped on something and Carandil was very useful for catching him. Also Bishop needed him to talk to people if needed be.
"No. Not now anyway. I'll come see my sister once I've settled, but I have a new identity to take now. I need to make that one work," he gestured to his form and the common clothes he was wearing. Bishop had a feeling he had mentioned something about switching himself with some sap who had been killed. It was a smart move.
"Still light out though," Bishop continued to frown. He was looking rather suspect. He did get some of those prison rags from Carandil, but he was walking funny and he was all battered and bloody and sickly. People would notice him like that.
"So?" Carandil scoffed. "You think you're the first haggard, beaten straggler to be wandering around Chorrol, trying to crawl into the temple for some healing?"
"Hmm… fair point…" Bishop mumbled. He would just look like any of those poor wretches that he had seen in the infirmary. Nothing weird with that.
He just hoped he would get there in one piece.
He couldn't wait to see Aeyrin again.
And maybe he wasn't even that worried about if Therien liked him now. He did save him after all, right?
That had to count for something.