##00##00## (Author's Note: This part includes mention of rape and torture. I know these are major squicks for a lot of people, so I wanted to give fair warning.) ##00##00##
Ondelamar gaped at the Ambassador for the Aldmeri Dominion, realizing just how mad the woman before him was. “You arrested the Dragonborn?” He rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows that suddenly throbbed. She was going to get every Altmer in Tamriel slaughtered—not to mention destroy any influence the Dominion had left with the Empire. “The woman who killed the World Eater and ended the Civil War? You do realize that she is a Legate in the Imperial Army.”
Elenwen sipped her wine, slanting a pleased glance at her subordinate. “She and her Housecarl were easy to capture. I’m only sorry you missed out on the festivities.” Setting her wineglass down, she took a bite of the pheasant. Pleasure bloomed in her eyes at the savory tastes. Her cook had outdone himself. “The Empire will never do anything about this. She’s expendable.”
“Not a trait I would assign the Dragonborn,” he countered. “She’s shown herself to be resourceful and willing to work with whomever she must to get things done.” Ondolemar shook his head, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. He pushed away the plate of food that had been set before him, certain that if he ate anything at this moment he would be ill. “She also lacks the implicit hatred against the Altmer that many of her fellows do.”
Elenwen sneered at the trace of respect in Ondolemar’s voice. “Don’t tell me she spread her thighs for you, Ondolemar, and corrupted you. I thought better of you.” Shaking her head, she took another drink of her wine. “She’s in the cells below if you wish to have a reunion fuck. I’m sure that she might even welcome you—my men tell me that she is truly excellent.”
Ondolemar’s eyes widened as the reality of what his superior was telling him sank in. “I would see her if I may.” His voice was strangled and he kept his gaze fixed on the tabletop, afraid of what Elenwen would see if she looked closely at her fellow Altmer.
Elenwen sighed dramatically. “Very well.” She drew the key to the cells from her pocket and tossed it to Ondolemar. “Oh, and you might need this,” she added, dangling a potion to cure disease. “Wouldn’t want you developing whatever rot that bitch might be carrying.”
Ondolemar nodded tightly, tucking both the key and the potion into his pocket and descending through the embassy to the cells beneath. He passed the guards silently and stepped into the cells, the smells immediately assailing him. Blood and sex. Closing the door behind himself, he lit a lantern and stepped further into the cells. Just as he recalled, there was a desk set against one of the largest cells, its iron bars pressing against the wood. A book rested on the tabletop and he flipped it open, amber-hued eyes scanning the words written in Elenwen’s recognizable hand.
The bile he’d tamped down before rose again and he swallowed reflexively as the words sank in. The woman would get them all slaughtered if any of this came out. Picking up the book, he tucked it into one of the many pockets of his voluminous robes. He wasn’t sure what he would do with it, but he knew that he had to do something. Better to remain in the rocky wasteland that was Markarth for eternity than to allow Elenwen’s clear derangement to destroy the Thalmor and the Dominion.
“Ondie?” came the barely heard whisper. “What are you doing here?”
Ondolemar lifted his head, following the sound of the Dragonborn. He had thought himself prepared, given his past experience with Elenwen, for anything. He wasn’t prepared to see the Dragonborn dangling from shackles against the wall. “Gods.”
A rattling cough was the Dragonborn’s answer and she shook her head. “Don’t think they’re answering anymore,” she croaked. “Can I have a drink?”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Any - Avenging the Dragonborn/etc. "Mostly Dead" (1c/?) F!DB/Others
Date: 2014-03-01 04:58 pm (UTC)(Author's Note: This part includes mention of rape and torture. I know these are major squicks for a lot of people, so I wanted to give fair warning.)
##00##00##
Ondelamar gaped at the Ambassador for the Aldmeri Dominion, realizing just how mad the woman before him was. “You arrested the Dragonborn?” He rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows that suddenly throbbed. She was going to get every Altmer in Tamriel slaughtered—not to mention destroy any influence the Dominion had left with the Empire. “The woman who killed the World Eater and ended the Civil War? You do realize that she is a Legate in the Imperial Army.”
Elenwen sipped her wine, slanting a pleased glance at her subordinate. “She and her Housecarl were easy to capture. I’m only sorry you missed out on the festivities.” Setting her wineglass down, she took a bite of the pheasant. Pleasure bloomed in her eyes at the savory tastes. Her cook had outdone himself. “The Empire will never do anything about this. She’s expendable.”
“Not a trait I would assign the Dragonborn,” he countered. “She’s shown herself to be resourceful and willing to work with whomever she must to get things done.” Ondolemar shook his head, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. He pushed away the plate of food that had been set before him, certain that if he ate anything at this moment he would be ill. “She also lacks the implicit hatred against the Altmer that many of her fellows do.”
Elenwen sneered at the trace of respect in Ondolemar’s voice. “Don’t tell me she spread her thighs for you, Ondolemar, and corrupted you. I thought better of you.” Shaking her head, she took another drink of her wine. “She’s in the cells below if you wish to have a reunion fuck. I’m sure that she might even welcome you—my men tell me that she is truly excellent.”
Ondolemar’s eyes widened as the reality of what his superior was telling him sank in. “I would see her if I may.” His voice was strangled and he kept his gaze fixed on the tabletop, afraid of what Elenwen would see if she looked closely at her fellow Altmer.
Elenwen sighed dramatically. “Very well.” She drew the key to the cells from her pocket and tossed it to Ondolemar. “Oh, and you might need this,” she added, dangling a potion to cure disease. “Wouldn’t want you developing whatever rot that bitch might be carrying.”
Ondolemar nodded tightly, tucking both the key and the potion into his pocket and descending through the embassy to the cells beneath. He passed the guards silently and stepped into the cells, the smells immediately assailing him. Blood and sex. Closing the door behind himself, he lit a lantern and stepped further into the cells. Just as he recalled, there was a desk set against one of the largest cells, its iron bars pressing against the wood. A book rested on the tabletop and he flipped it open, amber-hued eyes scanning the words written in Elenwen’s recognizable hand.
The bile he’d tamped down before rose again and he swallowed reflexively as the words sank in. The woman would get them all slaughtered if any of this came out. Picking up the book, he tucked it into one of the many pockets of his voluminous robes. He wasn’t sure what he would do with it, but he knew that he had to do something. Better to remain in the rocky wasteland that was Markarth for eternity than to allow Elenwen’s clear derangement to destroy the Thalmor and the Dominion.
“Ondie?” came the barely heard whisper. “What are you doing here?”
Ondolemar lifted his head, following the sound of the Dragonborn. He had thought himself prepared, given his past experience with Elenwen, for anything. He wasn’t prepared to see the Dragonborn dangling from shackles against the wall. “Gods.”
A rattling cough was the Dragonborn’s answer and she shook her head. “Don’t think they’re answering anymore,” she croaked. “Can I have a drink?”