Summary:
Azarath and Laverna find themselves face-to-face with Dar'Jhan, a feared crime lord with a claim on the artifact they've stolen. As tensions rise, they're forced to strike a deal to survive—one that will pull them deeper into the criminal underworld and test the limits of their bond.
Azarath and Laverna felt a dull headache as they slowly opened their eyes. They weren't tied up, but they might as well have been —surrounded, outnumbered, and unable to escape. They were in some warehouse—no i- Manage Storiesdea where. Relief hit Azarath when he saw Laverna sitting next to him, alive. But that soon turned to annoyance. She was the reason they were here. He loved her, but she was too impulsive sometimes. What the hell was she thinking, stealing a rare Dwemer artifact people were obviously going to notice was missing?
Several rough-looking Khajiit henchmen stood around them, and straight ahead was Dar'Jhan. Their eyes widened when they saw how huge he was. He was as large as one of the Senche-raht—the largest subspecies of Khajiit. Yet, he walked on two legs and was more humanoid than a Senche-raht . Twice the size of any Altmer, he made Galadrion look like a Breton or a Bosmer. He was jacked too, like he could throw an elephant across a field without breaking a sweat.
Azarath felt a little embarrassed. He thought he was built now, but next to this guy, he looked like a twig.
The warehouse was cold and damp. In the distance, they could hear the slight drip of water echoing off the stone walls. The air smelled of mildew and rust. The Khajiit henchmen watched them with narrowed eyes, their sharp, feline features twitching as they purred softly. Some hissed under their breath.
Dar'Jhan's back was turned. It looked like he was mixing some kind of alchemy potion. No—it was coffee. They could smell it.
"Give them some water," Dar'Jhan's tone was eerily soft and almost gentlemanly. He didn't sound like most Khajiit—his accent was there, but it was more refined.
His men followed his orders. Laverna and Azarath gulped down their water fast, slightly dehydrated.
Finally, he turned to face them. His face wore a friendly yet unsettling grin. He was handsome, especially for a Khajiit. Laverna usually wasn't attracted to any of the beast races, but she had to admit, there was something about him. .He was massive, his bulky frame filling the space, with broad shoulders and thick muscles that spoke of strength. Despite his imposing size, he had high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline, making him striking in a way that even she couldn't ignore. His violet eyes gleamed with intelligence, gleaming like two shards of amethyst under the dim light of the warehouse. They were intense, almost mesmerizing, but Laverna quickly shook off the feeling—she loved Azarath. Plus, psychopaths and murderers weren't her type. She knew about his heinous crimes, the vulnerable beggars mercilessly slain by his minions. His heart was ugly, despite his pleasant outer appearance.
His fur was a rich, deep shade of brown, streaked with golden markings that added to his exotic appeal. He wore a sleek, brown leather jacket that hugged his frame, stylish in a way that made it clear he wasn't just any street thug—he had an eye for fashion, too. The jacket seemed to amplify his presence, giving him an air of confidence.
He smiled at them as if he hadn't kidnapped them in their sleep and dragged them here against their will, like they were just meeting for a regular social gathering.
"This shall wake you up, young ones," he said, handing them each a cup of coffee. "My mother used to make me this when I was but a young cub. Fresh coffee, seasoned with a drop of moon sugar. Ah, such good memories of her!"
Laverna looked at the cup suspiciously. Was it poisoned?
"Relax," he reassured her, reading her mind. "If I wanted either of you dead, you'd be dead already. Plus, Dar'Jhan prefers a more hands-on approach."
"I… um, I'm not much of a coffee drinker," she protested lightly.
Azarath rolled his eyes at her and took a sip of his coffee. They were already in enough trouble—was she really going to push their luck now?
Dar'Jhan's violet eyes shifted, growing more threatening. "Dar'Jhan made this pot specifically for you. Would you neglect his generosity?"
Laverna stumbled over her words. She knew this cat would kill her without thinking twice. She needed to wise up.
Azarath stepped in. "Sometimes she gets nervous and doesn't think before she speaks. She didn't mean—"
"Quiet," Dar'Jhan cut him off. "Dar'Jhan was speaking to her, not you. She's a big girl. She can speak for herself."
Laverna quickly took a drink of the coffee, clearly not liking the taste, but desperately trying to fake that she did.
"Of course, I appreciate it. Where are my manners? Best cup of coffee I ever had!"
"I thought you didn't drink coffee," he hissed.
Her heart raced. She was terrified. She tried to think quickly, but knew anything she said could be the wrong thing.
Dar'Jhan then smiled slowly and cackled hysterically. "Oh relax! Dar'Jhan was just teasing you!"
Laverna and Azarath laughed with him, awkwardly, trying to mirror him and please him. He turned to his henchmen, who forced a laugh too—knowing he wouldn't hesitate to kill them either.
"What are you laughing at, Dunmer?" The cat sneered at Azarath. The room became dead silent. Even the low purring of the henchmen stopped.
"I… umm… I don't know. I was just laughing."
"Laughing. But you don't know why." Dar'Jhan was now hovering over him, his massive shadow swallowing Azarath whole. Azarath forced himself to make eye contact, even as every instinct screamed to look away.
"Does Dar'Jhan look like a joke to you?"
"What?" Azarath was panicking and trying desperately to hide it, his fingers twitching around the arms of the chair.
"Your boyfriend isn't very smart, is he?" Dar'Jhan turned his head to Laverna. Her mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Laverna felt helpless. She wanted to back Azarath up, but there was nothing she could do.
The cat yanked the coffee cup out of Azarath's hands, then smashed it on the ground. Shards scattered across the concrete. He then grabbed the chair Azarath was in and lifted it—Azarath and all—into the air like he weighed nothing.
Laverna was going to tell him to stop, but she knew it was futile. Speaking would only make things worse. Her heart was pounding in her ears.
"You Dunmer think you are better than everyone, don't you?"
"No, uh—sir! I don't think that at all!"
Dar'Jhan put him back on the ground, the chair landing with a dull thud. He turned his back, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. Silence lingered.
"My mother, whom I mentioned. Do you know what happened to her? My dear, sweet mother?"
"Ummm… nooo I don't," Azarath replied cautiously.
"She and I were taken as slaves by Dunmer like you," Dar'Jhan seethed. "They treated her—and all other Khajiit—like less than insects. Dar'Jhan hated those Telvanni swine. You know what Dar'Jhan used to do when he ran into a Dunmer? Any Dunmer, for a while?"
Laverna and Azarath shook their heads simultaneously, their eyes locked on him.
"I'll show you what I did!" He grabbed what was left of the shattered coffee cup and hurled it against the wall. Pieces clattered everywhere. "I smashed their heads! Like that!"
He then started picking up other things in the room—chairs, boxes, even a small metal pipe—and breaking and smashing them one after another. The warehouse echoed with the sound of destruction.
"Like this! Like that!"
Dar'Jhan took a few heavy breaths. Then, just as suddenly, he smiled. His demeanor turned pleasant again, like none of it had ever happened.
"Ah, but Dar'Jhan is not that cat anymore. Not all Dunmer are bad. And you know what else he learned? Survival of the fittest. The Telvanni understood that. That's why Dar'Jhan is no longer a slave. He's a master himself."
"You poor thing." Laverna frowned slightly with empathy in her voice. "That must've been terrible. To go through that at such a young age? Your mother and you taken like that?"
Dar'Jhan growled softly, like a mountain lion eyeing its prey.
"Laverna, shut up!" Azarath mouthed to her, hoping she'd read his lips. He felt the weight of Dar'Jhan's glare and wished for nothing more than to be anywhere but here.
Dar'Jhan's violet eyes locked onto Laverna, and he gritted his teeth. "Does Dar'Jhan look like someone who needs pity, little girl? Does he look like someone you need to feel sorry for?"
"No, no, no!" Laverna said quickly. "I'll just shut up now, that was just me running my mouth again."
"Good," Dar'Jhan nodded and grabbed the stolen Dwemer artifact out of a bag placed on a table nearby. "Now let's get to the business at hand."
Dar'Jhan turned the crown over in his hands, his eyes gleaming with admiration as he ran a claw along the ancient metalwork. "You know… my crew, the Crimson Claws, we've had our eyes on this little treasure for many moons. No one in the Thieves Guild knew of it. No one else, either. Yet somehow, you two, working alone, found it before we did."
He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Impressive, yes. Very impressive."
Azarath didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or a threat. He just sat frozen, hoping the cat wasn't about to throw him again.
"See this? This here is an ancient crown, once worn by a Dwemer king. " Dar Jhan paced back and forth displaying the artifact for both Azarath and Laverna to see clearly, "it's an extremely rare item. "
Dar'Jhan raised the crown, peering through one of the jagged Dwemer glyphs in its center. "This is the Crown of Kharzun-Bel. A true piece of history. Belonged to a Dwemer king who ruled the city of Bthan-Zund Legend speaks of power in this crown—real power. Not some mere trinket. It's said to link to something deep in the ruins, believed to be somewhere in Morrowind, close to the Cyrodil border."
Dar'Jhan now had the tone of a scholar as he went on. This cat was crazy and evil. But he was also intelligent.
"You don't find any Dwemer ruins here in Cyrodil. The Ayelids, they were the rulers of these lands . You know they owned slaves." He glared hostily at Azarath once again, "Just like your Dunmer brethren."
"Oh, yes of course!" Laverna blurted out. She just couldn't control herself despite the circumstances. "That's why my sister and I revere Alesia. The Slave Queen. She freed humanity from the binds of slavery."
This time Dar'Jhan didn't mind her interruption.
"Very astute. This one knows her history, smart girl."
"I mean it's pretty common knowledge," Laverna blushed. "But thanks."
Azarath took a deep breath in relief. Azura, please help her keep saying the right things going forward. He thought to himself.
Dar'Jhan smiled and stepped closer to Laverna, stroking her hair slightly as he gazed into her eyes.
"Ah yes, but Dar'Jhan can see it in you—beauty and brains."
Laverna chuckled awkwardly, flattered and intimidated at the same time. She then looked over at Azarath, giving him a quick, uneasy glance that said, This isn't me. He's doing this. Azarath nodded understandingly. He just wanted her to make it out of this alive, and wasn't concerned about anything else, not even his own life.
Dar'Jhan then frowned at Azarath. "Why you go with this moron, I do not know."
He set the artifact down gently on the table, then turned back toward them, his gaze sharpening.
"You two got lucky. But luck runs out." He said coldly. "If you work for Dar'Jhan, I can be your best friend. A friend, yes. Money, protection, work? All yours. But if you don't—if you cross me or wander in my territory again—I promise you, I'll be the last thing you ever see."
He moved closer, crouching beside Azarath, claws lightly grazing the arm of the chair. "You stole it before we could. Now, you owe me and must work for me to pay off your debt.. Plus Dar'Jhan needs people with your skills."
"But…" Laverna started, finishing the last of her coffee. Azarath rolled his eyes. Doesn't she know when to keep quiet?
"Yes?" Dar'Jhan's smile turned mocking, though his patience was wearing thin. "Dar'Jhan is all ears."
Laverna hesitated, stammering a little. "I've heard things about you… I know you kill people. And I want you to understand—I'm a thief, not a murderer. I'll pay off my debt, but I'm not a killer. Neither is Azarath."
"Ah, yes, Dar'Jhan knows you're no killer," he said, his tone calming slightly, though there was a hint of something darker underneath. "But he has others who handle that… Do not worry. It's not why I hired you."
"And…" She still had more to say. Azarath face-palmed.
"Yes?" Dar'Jhan's mocking grin widened.
"I…I ummm," Laverna stuttered a bit, "I usually work with a crew. They help me do jobs. Without them, i don't know if I can be as skilled. "
"Sure, that's fine," Dar'Jhan nodded. "You can give them whatever percentage of your cut you see fit, they work for you, not me. And don't tell them about me. You can still do whatever low-level heists you want in your freelancing, too. Just don't interfere with my business."
"Understood, sir." She nodded.
He stepped over to her, extending a paw for the coffee cup. She handed it over, and he took it with a cold, practiced smile, then smashed it against the wall with one sharp motion.
"Now. Dar'Jhan knows you heard him clearly. He will summon you again soon."
Laverna and Azarath exchanged uneasy glances. Their eyelids grew heavier, the warmth of the coffee settling into a thick, drowsy feeling that spread quickly. The buzzing in their heads became louder, harder to ignore. Something in that coffee had been more than just caffeine and moon sugar.
The last thing they saw before everything went dark was the smug grin on Dar'Jhan's face.
Then they awoke. Azarath's head throbbed as his eyes flickered open, the dim light of their shack in the Imperial City Water District greeting him. He groaned and rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the disorientation. Laverna blinked a few times, dazed, before realizing where they were.
Azarath rubbed his eyes. "Shit… How long were we out?"
Laverna shook her head. "I don't know. But I'm scared, Azzy. What are we gonna do?"
Azarath sat up, sighing. "We'll make it through this. We don't have a choice. We work for him, pay off what we owe, and get out of this."
Laverna's voice trembled. "Azzy, I'm scared. What if he comes after us again? What if we can't get away from him?"
Azarath reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. And you're stronger than you know, Laverna. We'll look out for each other. We can do this."
Laverna buried her face in his chest, clinging to him. "I don't know what to do. What if we can't get away from him? What if he's always going to be after us?"
Azarath held her tighter, patting her slowly on the back. "We'll take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out. Together."
Laverna was quiet for a second, holding on to him. Then the panic hit like a wave. Her heart raced. She pulled away suddenly, pacing back and forth, her movements quick and erratic.
"My sister! My mother! Oh no! What have I done?!"
Azarath tried to calm her, stepping forward. "Laverna, relax."
"No!" she snapped at him, but it was out of fear not anger."They could be in danger. I have to warn them. I have to get them out of Cyrodiil." She started pacing again, faster, like she needed to do something—anything—before everything spun out of control.
Azarath grabbed her arm, stopping her. "We don't even know what's going on yet. We have to stay calm."
But she wasn't hearing it. "I can't just sit here, Azzy! What if it's already too late? What if they're after them right now?"
"We're not doing any good by freaking out. We'll figure this out, just—"
"I can't think like that!" Laverna cut him off, her breath ragged. "I can't just sit here while they could be—while they could be in danger. I shouldn't have gotten us into this. What was I thinking?"
Azarath stepped in closer, trying to calm her again, but she kept moving in frantic circles, her hands wringing together.
"Laverna, breathe. We can't help anyone if you lose it."
She stopped, glaring at him, her face wild with fear. Her eyes were wide, filled with desperation. "You don't get it, Azzy. You're calm. You always are. But everything's falling apart. And I—" She stopped abruptly, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard before she turned away again, pacing faster now, like the room was closing in on her.
"I don't know what to do. I don't know what's coming next. I can't… I can't fix this. I ruined everything. If something happens to them, it's on me."
"It's not your fault. We'll get through this."
"What if we don't, Azzy? What if we're too late?"
"We'll take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out. Together."
She kept rambling anxiously, her words tumbling out, her hands shaking as she fidgeted with her fingers. "I'll be a good girl. When this is done, when we've paid off our debts, I'll give up thieving. I'll do something, anything. Alchemy, maybe? Or a shop? A bookstore? Yeah, a bookstore."
Azarath pulled her into a hug again, his arms wrapping around her. He felt the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her body trembling against him. It took a second, but then he started tearing up too, unable to hold it in.
"It's okay. We can stop thieving. We can do anything. I just want you, Laverna."
Azarath kept holding her, trying to give her comfort. His grip on her tightened, and finally, she started to calm down, her breathing slowing a little.
"I want you too," she finally said. "And I want better for us than this."
Azarath nodded as he continued to embrace her and soothe her."You're right, though, Laverna. We should make sure they're safe. Galadrion, too, for that matter."
Laverna didn't respond. She was still crying. Only it was something else bothering her now. He knew her well enough to sense that.
"What's wrong, Laverna?"
"Oh no, I don't even wanna say." Laverna pulled away from his embrace, now looking ashamed. She sat down on a nearby chair and took a deep breath before speaking again. "The last time I spoke to my mother, I said something awful."
Azarath waited patiently for her to find the courage to tell him. He knew whatever she'd say, he wouldn't judge her.
"I told her she could drop dead for all I care. And I said… oh, I said even worse than that. How I wish I could take it back now. I want to hug her and tell her I didn't mean it. I hope I didn't put a jinx on her. By Nocturnal, I take what I said back! I take it back!"
"Hey." Azarath knelt and put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "It's okay. Sometimes we're the harshest on those closest to us. Maybe it hurt her at the time, but deep down, she knows you didn't mean it. She still loves you."
Laverna let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "I suppose you're right. I want to go see her, but it might put her in danger. I'll have to warn them somehow."
Azarath nodded. "Yes, but be careful. Make sure no one's following you when you do. You could be leading Dar'Jhan's men right to them if you're not careful." He stood up. "I'll go with you, just to have another set of eyes."
"I think… I'll meet with my sister first. Alone. Near the Lucky Lady in Bravil." She looked off to the side, thinking out loud now. "She's a new recruit to the Imperial Legion. It wouldn't hurt to have someone on our side there who knows what kind of danger we're in. Maybe she could find a way to take him down."
"I don't think Dar'Jhan would take kindly to snitching. Could make things worse."
"I'm not talking about snitching. I'm no snitch, ok?" Laverna snapped, then caught herself. "It's just—she's one of the only honest guards in the Imperial City. Maybe she can do something about the corruption in the ranks, the ones who are in his pocket. We need to find a way to take him down. Not now, but eventually. Otherwise, one day he'll get rid of us when we're no longer useful to him."
"Ok, I understand."
"She's family, Azarath," Laverna reminded him. "Even if we're on different sides of the law, our loyalty is to each other first."
That statement touched Azarath. He'd always wished he had a sibling and thought the unbreakable sisterly bond between Laverna and Bellona was beautiful. Galadrion was the only family Azarath had, and he wasn't even his real parent. Yet he was still thankful for him and kept in touch from time to time, even after he ran off with Laverna.
Azarath then glanced over at a nearby worn wooden end table in their shack. Lichor, the rare alchemical ingredient used as the Crimson Claw's signature, was placed on it. He knew what it meant—it was a warning: they'd better stay in line.
Later that day, Azarath went to the temple in the Imperial City to warn Galadrion about who they were dealing with. He told him it was better they kept their distance from each other for his safety, and that perhaps Galadrion should even leave the Imperial City and go somewhere far away.
"I tried to warn you about this Dar'Jhan character that night you ran off," Galadrion sighed, "but you got angry at me and stormed out before I could even bring it up."
"I'm sorry." Azarath looked down at his feet.
"But fear not," Galadrion reassured him. "I may be old, but I'm still a powerful wizard. Anyone who comes here and tries to start trouble with me is going to have a hard time. I'm worried about you, Azarath—not me. I want you and Laverna to be safe."
Azarath nodded. He knew Galadrion wasn't just boasting. He'd learned much about magic from Galadrion growing up. The schools of Alteration and Destruction interested Azarath the most.
"You know," Galadrion sounded hesitant.
"Laverna's mother, Venus, stopped by to visit me a few times. Lovely woman."
Azarath looked up. "Really? How did she even know about you?"
"Despite her harsh discipline, she still loves her daughter. She's been keeping track of her from a distance. Even if she's mad about her decisions, she still wants her safe."
"What did she say to you when she visited?"
"She was hoping I might help Laverna get on the right path. If she wouldn't listen to her mother, maybe she'd listen to me. She knew I'd struggled with something similar, raising you."
Azarath nodded, though he sensed there was something Galadrion hadn't said yet.
Galadrion took a deep breath before speaking again. "She and I… well, let's just say we've connected while you were away. I've been serving the Divines so long, I hadn't even looked at a woman in years—but there's just… something between us."
Azarath smiled slightly. Galadrion, you sly one.
Galadrion now wore a somber expression. "She's the first one since… since Syrabel."
"Syrabel?"
Galadrion nodded slowly. "Before I became a priest, I was engaged to the most beautiful Altmer woman I ever met. Beautiful inside and out. I'd taken a dark path before I met her, and she helped me turn my life around. But let's just say… my past caught up with me. And in the end, she was the one who paid the price. Since then, I've devoted my life to the Divines in her honor."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. That must have been hard." Azarath was trying to find the right words.
"For a long time, I never sought out companionship," Galadrion continued. "The memories of her were enough. But now I've met someone—someone who's shared the same pain, walked a similar path—and I feel something new. Something real. I don't know how much you know about Laverna's mother, but she's a priestess too. And not too long ago, she lost the man she loved."
"I'm happy for both of you." Azarath wasn't sure what else to say, but he meant it.
Later that evening, he told Laverna about her mother and Galadrion. Even though he was happy for them, he had mixed feelings.
"If Galadrion is like my dad and he's dating your mother… am I dating my stepsister now?"
Laverna laughed. "I wouldn't see it like that. You're just my mother's boyfriend's son—not my stepbrother."
"But what if they get married?"
Laverna shrugged. "Then you'll be my mother's husband's son. Still not dating a step-sibling."
Azarath smirked. "Guess that makes it less weird."
She nudged him playfully. "It was never weird. You just overthink everything."
Maybe she was right. Things were complicated, sure—but their bond had always been solid. Even now, caught up in something bigger than either of them, that hadn't changed.
For now, they were stuck working under Dar'Jhan. The danger was real, and the stakes were high. But whatever came next, they'd face it together. And in a world full of lies and shifting loyalties, that meant everything.