Wild Souls (A Skyrim Romance Bishop/OC Fanfiction)

1: The Prisoner

"Hey! You damn bastards, let me out!" I hollered through the jail bars, gripping them so hard my fingers turned white. My black hair hung wet, clinging to my cheeks with the cold settling deep into my bones. I couldn't help but shiver, barely managing to speak through the chittering of my teeth. "Let me out!"

Anger shook me as thunder did the same to the tower, my hands slipping off the rusty iron bars and sending me tumbling to the ground. I could hear both my fellow inmates and the guards muttering in the hallways of the stone prison. I resumed my shouting, holding my scraped-up hands close to my chest. "Let me out! We're all gonna drown!"

"Shut up in there!" a voice snapped from up the stairs. The clanking of boots headed towards me. My cell was further away from the others. When the guard's face became visible, I couldn't help but scowl. After all this time, though I didn't know the Bosmer female's name, I knew she despised me far more than the others. The feeling was mutual.

The guard jammed her hand between the bars and gripped my neck tightly, leaving little room for me to breathe. The sharp platinum metal of the guard's gauntlets dug into my soft skin, and the Wood Elf stood firm no matter how hard I struggled. Our hateful eyes met.

"You know as well as I that you're never leaving this prison alive, 24601." The Bosmer lifted her lips in contempt just as she did every time she recited my prisoner's number. I was nothing more than a number. "So, you'd best quit your complaining, wretch." Her scornful expression turned into wicked glee as she shoved me back in. I rubbed my chin and glared with undisguised animosity. Thunder cracked outside once more while the trickling water turned into a steady stream.

The guard turned around and bellowed out orders to her colleagues before running up the stairs. I kept looking around my cell as the water level rose, panic increasing tenfold. Swallowing my fear of injury, I prepared to slam myself into the bars. Sure, it was something I had tried countless times over the past few years, but it actually mattered now. My survival depended on escape. I backed away and set to ramming my body into the iron bars. The pain hit me instantly, and I cradled my shoulder before taking a deep breath and running into the bars again. I justified the pain in my shoulder as bearable as long as I managed to get out. Regardless, I didn't bother praying to the gods. I knew they had turned their backs on me long ago.

Several hours passed with the other prisoners screeching at each other and shaking at their bars. I still hadn't rested in the frantic search for a way to escape. The hinges were set too firmly to move, the stones around too tough to break without a hammer or similar weapon. I had no magical ability whatsoever, and the guards were somehow immune to my Voice of the Emperor power. Outside of these stone walls, I could use the powers of persuasion gifted by my Imperial race. Within them, I was useless. I'd built a bit of muscle over the past few years, utilizing the long days and nights to avoid going insane. However, the strength wouldn't help. My lockpicking skills were nonexistent, not that I had any picks even to attempt. In short, it looked like I was screwed.

The water was filling up my cell a third of the way through. Abruptly, the other prisoners quit their angry howls, which turned into relieved sighs. Hope rose in me as I waded through the hip-deep water in an attempt to get an idea of what was going on. I pressed my dirty face against the rusty red-gray bars. Different from the heavy storm, the broken sloshing of water came my way. It was taking a little longer, given that my cell was at the far end of the prison. Did I dare hope for salvation?

"Lookie here." A face appeared, the gaunt figure of an Orc male. "You know, if they hadn't been chasing you, they never would have found us." I frowned without giving a response. "What, nothing to say? I recall this prison being full of nothing but your screeching." He inspected my face. "I take it you wanna leave, get out of here with us." I noticed he held a bronze key in his hands, which he lifted and twirled around his finger. "Your pretty face isn't going to do any good-- you're gonna rot.