Rating for sexual moments, language, and any possible triggers.

Executed? He was to be executed? All he knew was that there were two dead people and he didn't remember what or how it occurred. Before he knew it, the city guard was at the door. He was arrested, sentenced, then hauled to Solitude to have his sentence carried out since Whiterun didn't do executions. He had mere days before his head was going to roll. Cyldris Thorn, a vagabond from Valenwood, sat in his cell, staring at the stoned floor. He kept trying to remember what had happened that afternoon two days prior. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything. He knew the couple. They had helped him recover from a saber cat attack while traveling the plains of Whiterun. He had no reason to kill them. They were nice people! He couldn't understand why anyone wanted to kill them.

Cyldris had seen the chopping block by Solitude's entrance before. It gave him chills, but never had he thought that he would be facing it. He hugged himself in the cell, closed his eyes, and began murmuring prayers to Auri-El. He heard shifting in the dungeons, making his crimson eyes snap open. "Hello?"

There was silence.

"Is there someone else in here?"

"…There is," came a soft reply.

The Bosmer cracked a smile. "At least we're not alone."

He was met with silence.

"What's your sentence?" He asked.

"It was three months," the woman quipped. "I've only been here for three days."

"Oh? Well, you'll be alone again after noon tomorrow, I'm afraid."

"Execution?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"They say I killed two people, but I didn't! They helped me. I had no reason to kill them, but they don't believe me."

"I see."

He nervously shifted closer to the bars. "I promise I am not a murderer, friend. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You don't have to explain to me," the woman stated.

"How did you end up here?"

"I stole from a noble. What's your name?"

"Cyldris. And you?"

"Arathil."

He smiled, resting against the stone wall. "Nice to meet you, Arathil! It's a shame we couldn't meet in more fortunate circumstances."

Arathil hummed. "Tell me, Cyldris, where are you from?"

"Valenwood."

"Oh. So am I."

He lit up. "Ah, fellow kinsmen! What brought you to Skyrim?"

"I was on the run from the Thalmor."

Clydris frowned, shoulders sagging. "So was I…." He perked up. "But I travel all over Tamriel now. High Rock was my most recent adventure. I was hoping to go to Morrowind next."

"That's nice. Why do you travel so much?"

He grinned. "So much to see and so many people to meet!"

"Ah. I live in Skyrim now."

"Do you miss Vallenwood?"

"No."

Getting the feeling Arathil was not in the mood to talk, their conversation ended.

Clydris was lost in his own thoughts for hours until the guard came in to blow out the torches for the night. The prisoner hugged himself, curled up on his cot. He could hear rats scurrying through along the stone. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face in the darkness. How could he sleep well when tomorrow was his last day in this beautiful world? At least it'll be quick. He won't die screaming like his father did. He forced himself to lay down, staring in the vast darkness in front of him. "Good night, Arathil," he called.

There wasn't a reply.

He tried closing his eyes and whispered a prayer to Auri-El. He knew he had done horrible things in the past, but surely Auri-El would forgive him? If death was like this prison now, he wouldn't know what he would do. He wanted to at least have something in the afterlife to look forward to. Hopefully the deity would come to his dreams tonight. It's been too long since he heard His voice. He heard a metal gate softly squeak open.

He immediately jolted up to a faint glow coming from the end that moved closer, getting brighter. Then a small Bosmeri woman in rags stood on the other side of his cell with a deadpanned depression on her narrow face and a small flame in her hand. She dismissed her spell, knelt down, and began to lock pick. With in a single, cautious movement, it clicked open, she stood up, and opened the door. "Ready?"

Cyldris jumped to his feet, impressed that she was able to lock pick with her eyes practically closed. "Ready," he whispered, crimson eyes wide. "But how?"

"Follow." She led him back to her cell and stood by the back wall. She carefully knocked until she found the right spot. With such little effort, she leaned against the wall and the stones came crashing down, revealing a passage. "This way." She quickly led the way through the tunnel with her fire spell in hand.

Cyldris quickly followed. They weaved through the tunnels until they found a ladder going up. They climbed up and popped out of a sewer hole in the city. "You're good," he whispered.

"Master thief," she whispered back. "Come."

He followed her in the shadows of the night through the city until they found the side entrance through the tower. The pair went down the spiral staircase, opened a door, and was outside of the city by the docks.

Arathil looked at him. "This is where we split. Did you have any important gear in that prison?"

He shook his head. "No. I believe it's all still in Whiterun."

"Unfortunate, but at least you don't have to go back. I do."

"You do?"

"I lost my armor and weapons, so I'm gonna need to steal those back."

"How?"

"I have my ways. Now get going and don't expect to meet again." She walked back to the door.

"Wait!'

She turned to him, calculating crimson eyes locked on him.

"Thank you."

Arathil dipped her head, then slipped inside.

On his own, Cyldris sighed, and made his way up the road to the docks. He was cold in just the rags of clothing, but he kept going past Katla's farm. He didn't have his horse nor coin and had to make sure the guards didn't see him. Dragon Bridge was a small and quiet town, so it was easy for the elf to slip past any patrolling guards. Once he was across the famous bridge, he knew he was safe, but he couldn't survive the land without any gear. He didn't have time to make new armor or weapons either. The green ribbons of the aurora borealis danced overhead, guiding his way. Tired and cold, he kept walking towards Whiterun until he found a bandit fort. He swallowed, but knew he didn't have a choice. He approached the closed gates of the fort and knocked, then again.

The door opened to a confused, large orc.

"Please," the Bosmer whimpered, hugging himself against the cold, night air. "I need clothing. I have no coin. Please."

The orc blinked, turning towards the camp. "Hey! Wake the chief up! We've got a…strange situation." He looked back at the elf.

Morning came and Cyldris was wearing simple, but comfy fur armor and hide boots. It was perfect for him! He also was given a quiver of arrows, a bow, and twin steel axes. In return for the bandits' hospitality, he hunted and cooked food for them that were inspired by his homeland and shared stories of his travels. The only Khajiit of the group enjoyed hearing stories of golden seas of sand in Elswyer.

"You should join us!" The chief, Helga, clapped Cyldris on the back. "You will be safe here."

Cyldris sadly shook his head, looking at her. "I appreciate your offer, but I cannot stay in one place. I will be like a wolf in a cage."

The strong woman nodded. "I understand." She smiled. "We have never had anyone knock on our gates before."

"I was very confused," the orc, Urzok, chuckled.

Cyldris smiled at the several bandits, sitting around their breakfast. "Your kindness will not be forgotten. Truly. I will tell stories of the group of bandits that lend me aid– more so than most civilians have. I will never give your location, either."

"We will certainly enjoy the rabbits you skillfully hunted this morning," Helga graciously replied.

When noon arrived, his planned execution hour, the elf and the bandits exchanged farewells. With his new gear and knapsack, Cyldris knew he was nearing Whiterun's border, but the north was too cold to travel. It was the end of autumn, so he did not want to travel through the northern holds for for the rest of his journey for it was too freezing. Whiterun was the quickest way to the east since, but now as a wanted man, it was best to avoid the hold altogether. He enjoyed Skyrim for the last several years, but now, it was best to continue to Morrowind.

He continued down the road, planning the next route before he got to Rorikstead. It would be easier to go through Falkreath Hold, through the Rift, then go to Morrowind from there. It was better than traveling through the plains of Whiterun while avoiding traveling guards. The elf stopped in his tracks, noticing dead bodies of four bandits and a Thalmor on the road. "What the…?"

"He…lp…me…."

Cyldris stopped in his path, looking around the dry grass and rocks. "Hello?"

"Over…here…."

He noticed a figure, hidden by rocks and bushes. He approached the person, leaning back on rocks, but he stepped back, recognizing the dark robes of the Thalmor.

The Thalmor raised his head with blond hair neatly draped over his shoulders. His golden eyes were pleading and tired. His gloved hand was pressed on a wound on his side. "Help me…please."

Cyldris slowly moved his hand over to the axe on his hip. "I should kill you."

The Altmer rested his head against the rock, looking up to the blue sky. He smirked. "To be killed by a wood elf. How…poetic."

"If you want to live, why don't you heal yourself?" Cyldris spat.

"Too weak…I've been here for hours. We were attacked. They died…for Talos…supposedly. My life was…delusional. My purpose– the Thalmor… all delusional."

Cyldris sat beside him, curious to this statement coming from a Thalmor. "I have no reason to save you."

"If you save me," he looked at him from the corner of his eye, "I will be in your debt."

After a few seconds of pondering, the wood elf sighed. "I am going to regret this…." He held out his hand with a golden spell and began to heal the wounded high elf for a couple of seconds.

The Thalmor got to his feet. "Thank you. I was stabbed and after a few hours in the sun, I thought I was surely going to bleed to death. My name is Ondolemar. I am– or was– a commander in the Thalmor to clean out the Reach of any Talos worship, until I was ordered to patrol this part of Skyrim for rumored Talos worship. Well, they found us. It was all a ploy." He turned to the dead bodies. "I used to believe that the Altmer were the superior race and that Talos worship should be banished…. What utter nonsense."

Cyldris blinked. "Wait. I've seen you in Markarth. In the Keep."

"That was I."

"Don't you have a dog?"

He turned to him. "The dog was actually the Jarl's. He just kept following me."

Cyldris was puzzled, aware that animals had a good judge of character.

"Well, I won't be keeping you. You're a Bosmer. I doubt you and I will be friends."

"You want to be friends?"

"No. I just know the reputation our people have." He looked back at the dead. "There was a time where the Empire and the Altmer believed in Talos. These people– many people– are willing to die for their beliefs. Who are we to take that away from them? What does the Thalmor care about what the Empire wants?"

"What about your slaves?" Cyldris coldly questioned.

"Unforgivable."

Cyldris stared at him, questioning the Mer's sanity. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I only had one slave. My father killed her for theft. It turned out my sister only misplaced her necklace and the girl died for nothing. I refused to have a slave since and that was thirty years ago. As for this change, when you stand among the dead, one thinks: what is the point? My answer is: it was all a delusional lie. Talos has been a belief of the Empire for centuries. Why now to turn away? I think it is time that I turn away from the Thalmor. For good."

Cyldris stared at him, pondering if he should bury his axe in the back of his skull for still being a Thalmor. Instead, he decided to question more. "What about being the superior race?"

"I was at the inn in Markarth a couple of weeks ago. I met an Altmer woman. She was proud to be a newlywed. Her husband? A large, bearded Nord. I stopped talking to her after that, but the way she looked at him…she truly was in love." He looked at him. "Tell me, Bosmer, have you ever questioned your entire life's purpose? Because not once have I ever."

He softly sighed, bowing his head. He looked up at the taller elf. "There was a time where I had to go forward, but I didn't know how, so I traveled and decided to try to brighten other people's lives because I know what it's like to suffer and to be utterly alone. I do not wish anyone else to feel that. Even if it's for a moment. I want to help people if I can because I know what it's like when cries for help go unanswered. I do not wish to settle down because my home will never be lived in for I will always be gone. I say Auri-El has given you enlightenment. It is your choice what to do with it."

Ondolemar scoffed. "Auri-El. I never prayed to Auri-El or any god for that matter."

"And yet you choose to take a god away from people?"

The Altmer frowned. "The Thalmor believe we are practically gods among men. We live for so long that we might as well be, but we are nowhere close to being gods. We…do not have the power we believe. You have yet to tell me your name."

"Cyldris. Cyldris Thorn."

Ondolemar dipped his head. "As I said before, I am in your debt, Cyldris Thorn."

"You don't have to be. You were a person in need."

"And yet, you could've killed me. Anyone else would."

"Ondolemar." He inhaled. "Would you…like you accompany me on my travels? I am going to Morrowind, but you can stay as long as you wish." His gut knotted with those words, feeling he was going to regret it, but so far, saving the elf's life did not seem like a regret.

"Morrowind? The land of ash? I can never say I wanted to go there, but I suppose I will journey with you in Skyrim."

Cyldris nodded. "That is fine. Shall we then?"

"Yes…of course."

"Oh, um," he forced himself to look at the high elf in the eyes, "there is something you must know. I am wanted in Haafingar and Whiterun."

Ondolemar crossed his arms.

"I was wrongfully charged for two murders in Whiterun and I escaped Solitude's prison last night before my execution for those murders." He shook his hands. "But I didn't kill them! I-I don't know who did, but it wasn't me and I wasn't planning on escaping prison. There was another prisoner who broke out and she took me with her. We parted ways after we left the city." His heart was slamming against his chest, staring at the Thalmor like he was standing trial.

Instead of anger, the high elf laughed. "What an interesting fellow you are." It wasn't a backhanded comment. "Arrested for a murder you didn't commit, sentenced to death, then escaped that wasn't even your plan? I cannot tell if fortune is on your side or not."

Cyldris cracked a smile. "I should say it is because I should've been killed at noon today. That was almost an hour ago."

An amused smile formed on his thin lips. "Then considering your circumstances, perhaps we should travel south. Cut through Falkreath and towards the Rift."

He nodded, smiling. "That was my plan. Let's go." His blood was cold as they began their journey. Who was to say the Thalmor wasn't going to change his mind again? Cyldris could wake up to a knife at his throat or worse– shackles around his wrists. If he would be a slave again, then he was going to try to take everyone else down with him. Hopefully, Ondolemar would be merciful and just cut his throat in his sleep.