The Imperial bloody prison. Sovor grumbled in annoyance as the guards shoved him into the cell and locked the door behind him. He was surprised to see he wasn't alone; a Breton woman already occupied the cell. Sovor stared at her for a few seconds before shrugging and sitting down on the stone floor, his back against the wall, the cell's gate on his left-hand side. He looked out through the bars and pinched the bridge of his nose. So this is where I spend the next twenty years... fucking n'wahs.

From the opposite side of the corridor someone started talking to him. "Hey, there! You! Kinsman! I haven't seen another Dunmer in here in I don't know how long. Where you from, huh? Vvardenfell? You got a wife back home?"

Sovor looked up and narrowed his eyes at the other Dunmer. Untraditional hairstyle, no tattoos, smooth skin, clear voice. "No, outlander, I don't," Sovor replied. His voice sounded like tanned leather and grit, affected by decades of ash storms. "Now shut up before I find a way into your cell and do things to you that would make your ancestors scream, little swit."

Taken aback, Valen Dreth, the Dunmer in the opposite cell, balled his fists. "Think you're so tough, n'wah? You'll change your tone after the guards are done with you. Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here!"

Ignoring the outlander's whining with a dismissive wave, Sovor turned his attention back to the Breton woman in the cell with him. "Fucking outlanders, right?" he said companionably.

"Huh. Must be over-flowing the cells this week." Was Stefanie's first thought as a newcomer was shoved into her cell. At first, she'd been apprehensive, hearing the guards approach. They were none too kind to her - but with a Dunmer in the cell opposite, they preferred battering Dreth with insults moreso. She didn't know why, but so many damned guards had issues with Elves.

"This one deserves it though. What an almighty bastard Valen is."

When the guards weren't hurling abuse at either him or her, Dreth was whispering foul things - about what the guards would eventually do to her, about what he would do to her if the bars hadn't been in the way... the usual stuff.

So when another Dunmer was launched into her cell, she was none too pleased. However, it was obvious he was far more companionable than Dreth. Despite his harsh words to his fellow Dark Elf, he had a strangely pleasant grittiness about him - a harshness from the wild she was more accustomed to than the slime of Valen.

"Well, I suppose I would be what is considered an Outlander." She began, a smile already beginning to form on her lips. "But for that slimy son of a bitch in particular, I'm inclined to agree with you. I wouldn't bother talking to him - years in a cell has clearly addled his brain."

"You shut up, Breton wench! You're not leaving this prison 'til they throw your body in the lake!" Naturally, Dreth exploded at her interruption. She rolled her eyes, standing up from her favourite corner to stand by the newest addition.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I've got a few decades in me yet, rat-boy. Go chew on some skeever tails." She replied dryly, then offering her hand to her fellow prisoner to shake. No matter the situation, she did enjoy introductions. First impressions, and all that.

"I'm Stefanie Beauamont - call me Stef, if you like. I figure if we're spending some time together, we may as well known each other's names." Stef stated, torchlight from the outside corridor illuminating her pale face. After a month in prison, the lack of food had began to show - her cheeks were far hollower than when she had been interred, and various smudges of her dirt streaked her face. Nevertheless, bright eyes shone through, a spark of mischief ever alive within them.

Sovor chuckled at the Breton, pleased with her response to Valen. She seems alright. He stood up when she came over to shake his hand and introduced herself, gripping her hand firmly in return. It seemed to Sovor like she'd been here for a while already and looked more than just a little malnourished. That said, there was life in her eyes. "Greetings, Stef," he said with a crooked smile. "Name's Sovor."

"And yes," he continued, "you are also an outlander. But you have outlanders and then you have outlanders," he explained, inclining his head in the direction of Valen Dreth. "The ones that should know better. You can't be expected to know how to be a proper Dunmer." Sovor scratched his chin, dimly aware that what he had just said could be perceived as offensive. "Either way. How'd you end up here?"

"Pleasure to meet you, Sovor." Stef smiled as she craned her neck slightly to peer at him. He was tall - but then again, most people looked tall to her. His hand dwarfed hers, but her grip still remained strong. A remnant memory of her Father from her childhood - Never give a weak handshake - it's a bad impression, for all races of people.

As the pair released their grip and regarded each other, Stef considered his question. "How did I end up here? Some fucking awful detective work, that's how." She thought to herself almost sourly. Honestly, if the guards had done their jobs properly, they would have caught the damned assassin, and she would be home free. Or, at the very least, just serving a small-time burglary sentence and not an entire fucking life one.

"Oh, I happened to be unlucky in choosing my mark's house one night. Turns out the woman of the household had enemies, and after an unfortunate appointment conflict with the Dark Brotherhood, I was pinned for her murder." She said with a sigh, glancing at the other cell. Dreth was now silently sulking in the dark... good. Hopefully the Brotherhood would break in here one day and end his miserable life, if the guards didn't do it soon.

"How about you? It must have been bad if they threw you in here. It's generally one person to a cell." She explained, glancing around the dingy room that contained one table and one chair. There wasn't a bed to speak of, so thankfully there'd be no squabbling over that. Sharing the floor would be easy enough.

Stef paused as she heard a door slam from above, and a few muffled voices talking for a few minutes. It was a bit early for dinner... Perhaps they were throwing in another prisoner. She would thank the Gods if a rabid Orsimer got thrown in with Dreth - he'd piss his pants, most likely.

"You were framed? That's a new low for the Imperial guard," Sovor said with a wry smile. "As for myself... you are right when you assume it was bad. Much like yourself, I was attempting a burglary. The occupant of the house woke up and attacked me and, well... let's just say he's become good friends with the worms by now. It was an accident, ancestors be my witness, but I'll still be here for a long time." The Dunmer fiddled with the remaining fingers of his left hand, looking at the ground. "Never should have left Vvardenfell."

He looked up when he heard movement from above. A quick glance at Stef confirmed that she'd heard it as well. Tilting his head, Sovor could make out an old man's voice: "My sons... they're dead, aren't they?"

Younger voices responded, including a woman's, but Sovor couldn't make out what they were saying. Shadows flickered on the walls in the corridor and a group of people descended into view; three armored shapes, carrying torches and weapons, and an old man in a very fancy robe.

"What's going on? This cell is supposed to be empty!" one of the soldiers said. Sovor took a few steps back from the gate, his gaze flickering between all four of them. "Oh, I do apologize," the Dunmer said with a grin. "I wasn't aware. If you'd just unlock that gate, I'll be out of your way in no time."

Stef chuckled lightly at Sovor's quip to the guards, but as she peered from behind him, her smile froze slightly in confusion.

"These aren't the regular guards..." She thought to herself, frowning ever so slightly. With the three unfamiliar guards was stood with one of the usual ones, in the common steel armour... and a strange man in some seriously rich clothes. He looked old, but not just in his face - his eyes, from what she could see of them, had a heaviness about them. Like he'd just come to a terrible conclusion.

Despite Stef and Sovor's nonchalence, they swiftly backed away as the lead woman threatened death upon entering. Back pressing against the back wall, Stef watched curiously as the four walked into the cell, and their torchlight illuminated the dank cell.

Now,s he could see her new aquaintances properly. She could see Sovor's more-than-interesting tattoos, and his earrings glinting in the light. She could properly see the armour of the soldiers - and phew, what armour it was. Nothing like she'd ever seen before.

And as the old man approached with his three guards, she saw the jewel hanging from his neck, and froze.

Any thief worth their mettle knew what that jewel was. There was no other jewel like it - the most unique and lusted after property of Tamriel that a thief would love to get their hands on.

And if it was this jewel that she was thinking of - and it most certainly was - that meant that it's wearer was... was the...

"Let's go! We're not out of this yet." The woman barked, and while one of the guards had his blade drawn, bearing down on herself and Sovor, he was stopped as the elderly man stepped forward - staring at the two of them as if he were a blind man seeing light for the first time.

The woman paused and looked at him hesitantly.

"Sir, we really should be moving on..."

"Wait. Let me see your faces." His voice was a commanding one - heavy with years and grief, but a strong tone all the same. "You are the ones from my dreams... Then the stars were right, and this is the day." He whispered, and the sudden life in his eyes disappeared, replaced with a look Stef was unfortunately familiar with - the acceptance of the inevitable. Of Death. "Gods give me strength." He added in a low whisper.

Tilting her head ever so slightly in confusion, Stef cleared her throat.

"Uhm... begging your pardon, and all, but... why are you - the Emperor - standing in our cell? It's not what one would call cosy." She asked, as politely as she possibly could, and one the guards scowled at her.

"Yes, how dare I, a common thief, talk to an Emperor? HERESY! BURN THE WITCH!" She quipped - quite fortunately, in her head - to herself, dry tone not withholding.

The Emperor sighed heavily, eyes darting between her and Sovor.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell." He answered, motioning towards the small alcove in the wall to their right. Stef stared at it in surprise.

"Oh..."