The Forgotten Ch. 01

**No sex- yet. Just wait.**

*

There weren't many locks in Tamriel that she could not pick, but it seemed this was one of them.

Talon threw the broken lockpick onto the floor in disgust and sank back wearily against the unyielding bars of her cage. Luck had not been with her the last few days. She ran her hand through her thick auburn hair as she tried to figure out where things had gone wrong.

She would have gotten away with that horse near Ivarstead, had the Guard not turned the corner at the precise moment lightning had blazed overhead. The sudden clash of thunder and bright illumination had given her away, and she had just barely managed escape with the beast. Had it been anything less valuable, she would have been free and clear. But the client had wanted that horse- the Jarl of Riften's prized stallion. The Guard normally would have chalked it up to an unfortunate loss of property. But this horse was expensive, to say the least. A search party was formed almost immediately. She was able to elude them for a few days. It would have been longer, had she not been attacked in the night by a pack of hungry wolves. They scared off her new horse and then began hunting her. In the flight for her life, a patch of rocks under her foot came loose. She fell, tumbling down the steep hill, hitting branches and rocks all the way down... where she landed on the road- in the midst of the search party she had been trying to avoid.

Since she no longer had the horse, the Guards moved her to the Imperial prison in Helgen, a prison normally used to house rebel Stormcloak soldiers and other traitors to the Empire. A prison in Whiterun Hold. She was stripped of her belongings, but she was allowed to keep her clothes. Finally, she had been graced with some luck! She always kept a spare lockpick hidden in the seam of her pants for just this sort of occasion. As soon as the guards had left her alone in her cage, she ripped it free of the fabric and began maneuvering it into the lock ever so gently. She found the pins, turned it toward the right direction... slowly and carefully until... snap! It broke. Talon was aghast. This NEVER happened to her! It had been her only chance, and she had blown it!

What was she going to do now? In any other town, she would simply spend a few days in jail... maybe receive a public whipping... but here? Talon had no idea what was going to happen to her. Talon curled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She had never been good at staying positive, especially when things were looking so hopeless.

Somewhere, beyond the walls of her confine, there was a long bellow, as if from a large animal. How that could be an animal, however, was a mystery to her. She had never heard anything like that before. It must be huge to make a sound loud enough that she could hear it through the keep walls. The bellow came again, closer it seemed. And that's when the walls around her cage began to shake.

The roaring continued, now punctuated by the sound of explosions and collapsing stone. The walls shook violently, and Talon was suddenly afraid the keep would come crashing down on her steel cage. Would steel be enough to keep her from being crushed? Panic took a hold of her. She didn't know the answer, but she did know she didn't want to be here to find out. Talon scrambled to stand, her cramped legs protesting against the sudden movement. She ignored the slight pain as she pressed her face against the bars.

"HELLO!?" she yelled, her dry throat making her voice sound scratchy and weak. Footsteps sounded on the stone stairs. "What's going on?"

The men who entered were not Guards. His hood and the odd style his uniform suggested the older gray-haired man was an Imperial Torturer and the younger brute of a man, his assistant. They both were moving with an urgency that seemed... concerning. Talon was really starting to panic now. The Old man was speaking frantically in hushed tones to his large-framed friend as the two of them began gathering things from the shelves and stuffing them into a knapsack.

"Excuse me! What is happening?" She reached her hand out from the cage to try and catch their attention. The Assistant glanced at her briefly, but did not bother giving her a reply. On he went, gathering what looked like potions, weapons and documents.

"Luca. Let's go." The Old Torturer snapped. Slinging the knapsack over his broad shoulder, Luca the Assistant moved to leave.

Talon's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. They were just going to leave her? She may be a criminal, but she didn't deserve whatever horrible thing awaited her here. She was scared. And pissed.

"DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!!" she screamed at them. It was a useless command, she knew, but what else was she going to do? She was locked into a steel cage, with no way of getting herself out, a great beast roaming about somewhere, and a building about to collapse on top of her. Could her luck get any worse?

They ignored her and headed for the stairs, walking right into a group of Stormcloak soldiers coming down them. Everyone started for a moment, as if unsure what to do. Then everything erupted into motion.

Steel rang out as axes and swords were drawn. There were a few brief yells, and then the fighting began. Luca dropped the knapsack just in time to block the sword of an attacking Stormcloak. Blades were flying, blood was spurting, and two of the Stormcloak assailants dropped, blood pouring from various wounds.

Talon instinctively backed away from the front of her cage as soon as the fighting started, but she darted forward as the knapsack was kicked toward her in the slaughter that was unfolding. Another deep roar shook the stones around her, as she stretched as far as possible trying to reach the pack. A loud crash rang from above the stairwell, sending small shockwaves through the stone. Somehow, the keep was managing to stay together, despite whatever was trying desperately to knock it down.

From the stairs, two more Imperial soldiers, swords drawn, rushed to the aide of the Torturer and the Assistant. The rest of the fight was over quickly; the Stormcloaks falling within seconds of the newcomers' arrival. The immediate danger over, the Imperials searched for whatever could be scavenged from the bodies of the fallen. Ignoring them, Talon's hand closed around the soft leather of the knapsack. She felt a small surge of glee. With her limited range of movement, she worked on opening the pack. Until a shadow extinguished her only light.

An Imperial soldier stood over her, a Nord of medium build, streaked with blood. He was dark, his long hair almost jet black in its plaited tie. His angular face was streaked with blood, but she could tell that the roughness of those angles were beautifully smoothed by the gentle curve of his lips.

Talon shook her head to clear it. She was being so ridiculous. One of his dark eyebrows shot up for a moment, an almost amused look on his handsome face. Well, handsome if blood and sweat were appropriate accessories, that is.

"Hadvar." He said, his voice low and gruff, but not without a pleasantness to it. A singer, maybe... Talon shook her head. Stay focused!

The other Imperial looked good-natured enough. A rough face, with a boyish air about it. He had auburn hair, like her, though his was short and framed his face.

Talon slowly released the knapsack as the one called Hadvar approached. He looked her over once, and then motioned for Luca to open her prison. Talon moved away from the door, allowing Luca to unlock it. She vaguely heard the Old Torturer complaining as she slipped cautiously from the cell. She wasn't safe yet...

Stone grumbled and shook around them, reminding her of her previous panic. Hadvar and the other were already moving.

"There is nothing down that way!" The Torturer yelled.

"There's death the other way. Liam and I will chance it, I think," Hadvar looked to the handsome Nord, who nodded in agreement. Then he looked at Talon, "You coming?"

She didn't need to be asked twice. Hurrying to catch up, she grabbed the knapsack and a pair of steel swords off of a dead Stormcloak. She momentarily considered changing into a set of their leather armor, but the bellowing from outside caused her to reconsider.

"What is that?" she asked.

"A dragon, believe it or not."

"A... dragon..." She didn't believe it.

He nodded.

The three of them made their way through a cell block and into another interrogation room.

Hanging cages decorated the walls, some with a few stale bodies still imprisoned and rotting. The sight of decaying flesh made her stomach wrench a little. Thank the Divines that wouldn't be her. The rest of the room was bare, save for the chest against the wall. Chests held valuable things, things she could sell when she got out of this predicament. Talon started to move toward it, and then she saw it.

On the far side of the room, there was a hole where the tremors had collapsed the stone.

"Well, that's convenient," she mumbled under her breath.

Pushing past Liam and Hadvar, she moved into the small cavern beyond the hole. The two Imperials followed behind, the warmth of their bodies an almost welcome reassurance.

Voices broke the silence ahead of her.

Talon looked back over her shoulder, questioningly. Hadvar shrugged. She took a steadying breath before straightening up and walking toward the voice, being sure to keep her hands resting on the sword she had buckled at her hip.

The cavern she walked into must have been part of the original keep. The stone steps and small walkways over the underground stream were definitely Nord build. The voices had been coming from a band of Stormcloaks. They all froze a moment, taking in the three of them. Apparently, the sight of Imperials overcame the need to escape the dragon attack.

Once again, swords were drawn; shouts rang off the rocks, echoing slightly. Two Stormcloaks directly in front of her moved forward, their swords leading their path. Their intension was more than clear.

"Damn it."

She heard Liam and Hadvar draw their own weapons, their large frames brushing past her, readying to take the rebels head on. Sighing to herself, Talon drew her own steel. Liam and Hadvar rushed ahead together, but Talon turned, having sensed others. Three more Stormcloaks were moving through the streambed; two more stood on the walkway opposite her.

And they had bows. A small smile cracked her lips.

Perfect.

Talon bolted down the stone steps on her right, just in time to sidestep an assault by the first of the Stormcloaks in her path. She could have stopped to fight him, but he was much bigger than her and she couldn't waste time on him. She dodged the second, a burly and slow man wielding a mean-looking battleaxe. The blade just barely missed her head but, as predicted, he was slow to recover from the forceful swing. Her blade sank deep into his side. She spun away quickly, not even bothering to remove the sword from the axe-man. She drew her second sword as her momentum carried her past the last man in the streambed.

The archers above her had finally taken notice of their comrades' predicament. They were attempting to shoot her down, but she was fast and nimble for a Nord. Instead, the arrows meant for her slammed into that last Stormcloak before he had a chance to attack her himself. One pierced his temple as he turned to face her, his movements and his breath cut abruptly short.

Talon hoped the others could take care of themselves; she couldn't be concerned with them. Survival was the only thing that was important right now, and that meant she needed to reach the archers.

Wasting no time, she dashed up the steps, dodging an arrow that flew her way. Both archers had trained their sights on her, but a moment too late. Talon swung her blade, knocking the first archer's bow to the side, sending the loosed arrow Divines know where. She lashed out with the hilt of her sword, bringing the pommel crashing into the rebel Nord's skull. He crumpled to his knees almost instantly, unconscious before he hit the stones. The second archer loosed another arrow. Talon barely slipped out of its path, the arrowhead slicing a deep cut in her bicep. She ignored the sting of pain. Crouching low, she found an opening as the Stormcloak was momentarily distracted by something across the cavern. She leapt at him before he could notch another arrow, swinging herself up onto his back, wrapping her legs around his torso tightly and her arm around his neck. Her arms tightened sharply as he reached up to dislodge her grip, then she started to squeeze. As his air supply was suddenly cut off, the panic began. She held on tighter, feeling his attempts to gasp slow. Her victim began to twist and thrash, trying to knock her loose. It was to no avail. Within a minute, he was on the floor, unconscious.

Standing, she removed the quiver of arrows from both soldiers, scooping up a longbow from the stone floor. Running her hand over the bodies she found a decent dagger made of strong steel, its leather-wrapped pommel a fair fit in her hand. To be safe, she placed that in the hidden pocket of her right leather boot.

Talon glanced around. All seven Stormcloaks were either dead or incapacitated. Hadvar was re-sheathing his sword, stepping over bodies to reach her. Liam stood at the end of the walkway, sword still out and bloody. He had a strange look on his face, almost like he was trying to decide on something, but he was keeping to himself.

"What?" Talon snapped. She did not like the way he was looking at her. It made her feel... incredibly self conscious.

"Nothing."

Talon turned, determined to not let Liam see how uncomfortable she was, "Let's move then, shall we?"

Liam watched the red-haired girl leave, her swaying hips drawing his eyes. He couldn't help feeling aggravated at his attraction to such a... vixen.

"She's pretty." Hadvar chuckled.

"Yeah... for a dirty, underfed criminal." He replied. She was dirty; probably from however long she had been in that prison cell. She was underfed, skin and bones compared to other women of his home city. But she was beautiful too. She was tall for a girl, her head just reaching the bottom of his chin. She had looked pale and sickly in the cell, but the torches glow had given her skin a golden sheen and her auburn hair had shown richly. She had moved through the battle gracefully and with a speed he had not expected, making her seem more like a fae than a mortal.

But it was her eyes that had really held him.

When she had finally looked up just now, he noticed they were green. Not the green he would have expected, though. They were not the green of emeralds or the green of grass, but the green he has only ever seen on the leaves of the Juniper tree. A pale green, almost gray. Soft and beautiful.

"Are you coming or not?" Hadvar's voice cut through those thoughts like a reprimanding slap to the hand. For a moment, he actually felt guilty. Liam wiped his blade on one of the Stormcloaks' clothing, but he did not re-sheath it just yet. He hurried to catch up to Hadvar, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible as they moved through another channel in the stone. It was not long before it opened up again into another small cavern. The stones in this one seemed to be covered in thick webbing.

Frostbite spiders. Liam wondered for a moment if the girl was going to be afraid. Not that giant, man-eating spider weren't something to be afraid of; he had just noticed that girls seemed to be afraid of almost all types of arachnids. Wait...

Where did the girl go?

By the next morning, Talon trudged into the village of Falkreath in much need of a meal and a nap. She groaned to herself. Without coin though, she was going to have to settle for just a nap in the wood, she supposed. She couldn't even afford to rent a room right now. She just had to check something first.

Talon climbed the steps to the Dead Man's Drink, a fairly nice establishment despite the name. The hearth was always stoked and Valga, the woman who ran the place, was always keen on sharing local gossip. Maybe she could bum a drink off of her, Talon thought as she opened the door and slipped inside the warm inn. It was a pleasant thought until-

"Girl! Get over here." A harsh male voice boomed over the flute being played by the town's bard. Talon groaned under her breath.

She had been hoping that he wouldn't be here. Reburrus Quintilius was sitting across the room, in the back corner, his back to the wall. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, the oily tendrils slicked back. The lines of his face were too blocky, and gave the impression he was constantly brooding. He was of average build and average height, a combination that should have made him all around average. Experience told her otherwise. He could be one mean son of a bitch.

Talon approached the man, coming to stop in front of him, just out of arm's reach. She was not sure how this meeting was going to go, and she did not want his temper to get the better of him before she had a way out. He shouldn't try anything in such a public place, but safe was much better than sorry.

"How did it go?" he asked, taking a casual sip of his mead. Talon pushed her frazzled nerves down, putting on her most confident air.

"Not well, unfortunately." She crossed her arms in front of her, hardening the muscles in her face so as not to give away any of her fear.

Quintilius' face darkened, "What do you mean 'not well'? It was a simple job, you idiot."

"Not so simple. Did it slip your mind to mention that the horse belonged to Jarl Laila Law-giver?"

He waved his hand at her dismissively, "That should not have mattered."

"Of course it mattered. And now, it will be impossible."

"You'll do it anyway."

"No I won't, I'm not suicidal."

"Then give me my money back."

Talon paused. Damn it.

"I can't. The guard took the money when I was caught," she said calmly through clenched teeth.

"You incompetent little bitch. You will get it back." He snarled under his breath. His hand moved to his belt, and she saw him partially draw his dagger. She read the threat loud and clear. If she didn't, she would die.

"You'll have it by Sundas."

Quintilius pushed his chair back suddenly, silently replacing his dagger and straightening his robes.

"You have until Middas."

And with that, he stalked out of the Dead Man's Drink.

Talon sighed as she picked her way down the slope of the mountain. Her goal had been unsuccessful, and now she had nothing for her client. She didn't know why he had wanted that particular horse, but he had. Now she wasn't going to get paid, and her reputation in Falkreath was probably shot. Not that she had much of one, but what she did have was going to be beyond repair. Getting arrested hadn't been her greatest moment either.

Moving through the underbrush, Talon continued her trek down the mountain. There was a road along the lake at the bottom of these mountains. She could take that road to Whiterun. Plenty of rich people lived there. She was sure she could get the five hundred septims easily. That is, unless she had more terrible luck and she was caught. She couldn't rely on another dragon attack to save her hide again. Even if she wasn't caught, it would be hard to fence the stolen items in time. The nearest fence was at least a week's journey away.

The ground began to even out as she neared the floor of the valley. She caught a glimpse of the stone cobbled road just past the tree line. Divines, what was she going to do? She had a debt to pay, and there was no way she could come up with the five hundred septims before Middas. She supposed she could bag a ram or two, maybe a few foxes so she could sell the meat and pelts. That would get her some of the money she needed, but not much. She had been so stupid, accepting that horse-theft job, especially from someone like Quintilius.