Author's Preamble: PLEASE READ

Well this is my first story on FanFiction so I hope it is enjoyable. A few notes before you jump in: First of all, this story is set in the game of Skyrim, but if you haven't noticed from the description it DOES NOT follow any questline. This is because I feel that a good chunk of the stories in the Elder Scrolls section are just regurgitated quests I've played through a million times! So while this story certainly follows cannon, it is a completely separate tale. However you should meet the great Dovakhiin if you make it far enough, and anyone who knows anything about TES will recognize dozens of characters. Avid loremasters and players of Skyrim may also catch much, much more than most people as there are a lot of little easter-eggs that big fans will recognize as well as interaction with and allusions to quests from the game. This story will get a bit graphic but we'll save that for later :-) At present it remains rated T. Lastly this first chapter gets a biiiit promiscuous but I'm not into the whole fanfiction sex thing so don't worry about that. Enjoy!

Now that I've finished several chapters I am adding this statement: If you are reading this story for the first time, at least get through the second chapter. I am well aware that this first chapter is not alight with action. All the same it is a necessary and good chapter. As always, if you read it review. Even if you don't like it!

Zachaeus

Chapter 1: The Beast

The Bee and the Barb was filled far beyond it's capacity. Keerava, the innkeeper, had hardly seen this much coin in the last decade. The escalating civil conflict in Skyrim was driving huge numbers of foreigners away from an already harsh land. Many of them made for the Imperial City of Cyrodiil, while a large portion of Skyrim's Dark Elf population traveled towards their homeland of Morrowind in an attempt to flee their lives of persecution. Thus Riften was a key point in many of the refugee's travels, and they had been receiving plenty of guests from both sides. For even as dozens fled the province every day, dozens more were drawn in. The city quickly filled with adventurers, mercenaries, and even bandits. All looking to strike it rich by taking advantage of the chaos caused by not only the civil war but also the fabled return of the dragons.

Yet through all the anarchy of the inn, no one failed to noticed the entrance of Aleister Zachaeus. He arrived in the first hours of night, so as only the children had already gone to bed. The tavern was still crammed full of far too many bodies, as beggars and soldiers exchanged stories and mothers and widows softened each other's hardships. Suddenly the doors were thrown open. Winds howled into the tavern, bringing with them the icy chill of an approaching blizzard. Curious guests peered into the darkness for a long moment, waiting for whatever lay beyond. In strode a tall, lean man.

Though he may have been fair skinned once, he was now a rugged looking man bearing scars from a lifetime of wandering. His attire couldn't have been any more modest. A dirty and torn brown shirt covered his midsection, while tattered trousers of the same of a darker shade covered his legs. His sleeves left most of his arms exposed, revealing thickly layered muscle, and his boots were those of a working man. Most of his face was obscured by a large fur hood attached to the broad fur cloak that draped over his shoulders. What little of his face was not covered in shadow bore scars to match those on his arms. The doors closed slowly as he entered, lending several guests to begin mumbling about the evil nature of the magical arts. He quickly began weaving through the small crowd to find the innkeeper. Conversation resumed quickly enough, though where the newcomer walked the guests spoke in hushed voices. An aura seemed to surround Aleister and, despite his humble dress, his presence demanded respect and caused no small measure of uneasiness. As Keerava approached the man she held out her hand and shook her head in an exasperated manner.

"I'm sorry but we're full. I've already rented out the cellar and doubled the residents staying in every room," she said in the jagged, grating voice Argonians produce. Without speaking a word or revealing his face, the stranger produced a large coin purse which he then dropped in Keerava's outstretched hand. Keerava nodded slowly as she felt the weight of the gold within. "I'll see what I can do," she stated matter of factly, and walked off. The hooded man found a chair and took it to the most secluded corner to sit and wait. The other guests quickly began to throw suspicious glances towards him. After a rushed conversation with her co-worker Talen-Jei, Keerava returned to her most generous customer.

"You are welcome to stay in my room for the night, sir. All I ask is that you leave my personal belongings as they are," she scratched. "Here's the key. The room is the largest on the upper floor, impossible to miss. Will that be all?" she asked. Aleister nodded. Keerava produced a weak smile and left him to his business.

Across the room, Mjoll the Lioness eyed the Inn's new visitor with barely masked contempt. She felt vileness rolling off him in waves. She'd always had a sort of uncanny sense for malicious intent, and this stranger pricked at her with every step. Perhaps he was a thief, or even an assassin. Whatever the stranger may be, she would be watching him closely.

Meanwhile, under the fold of his hood, Aleister's eyes roamed the room with equal scrutiny. He studied each individual in their turn and when he had finished he rose leisurely and made for his room. Several guests shortly followed his example. As the crowd slowly made its way for the stairs, Mjoll pursued the outsider. She refused to let him leave her sight. She took the steps two at a time. For whatever reason, she felt that as soon as she took her eyes off him someone would be dead. In that regard, she was perhaps not too far from the truth. When she had reached the top of the stairs he was already entering his room.

"Hey! Stranger!" she called out. Aleister spun sharply. Mjoll waited a moment for a response but received none. Mjoll grunted her disapproval and said, "Look, I don't know who you are, nor do I care. What I care about is keeping the city of Riften safe. Let it be known traveller: I have my eyes on you." A chorus of agreement and nods came from onlooking guests.

"I see," said Aleister. His words dripped with honey, soothing the nerves of all those within earshot. Mjoll felt entranced by his voice. She suddenly harbored no resent, and in fact felt quite fond of him. Aleister stepped in close to her, drawing her hips towards him with a gentle arm around her waist. Mjoll's heart fluttered in in her breast as she as she anticipated his every move. Her cheeks flushed red and she exhaled a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She closed her eyes as he whispered softly in her ear. Then Aleister turned abruptly and retreated into his room. Mjoll followed. All those watching exchanged puzzled glances before heading into their own rooms, each of them thoroughly perplexed but not necessarily distrustful. After all, the man had sounded wonderfully nice.

Mjoll closed the doors behind her and turned to face Aleister. Slowly, he removed his hood. Hair as black as night fell perfectly onto his shoulders. His features were sharp, with a distinct jawline, and no facial hair marred the perfect symmetry of Aleister's face. What really captivated were his eyes. They shone a bright crimson at odds with his dark features, yet they were captivating beyond anything Mjoll had ever seen. She trembled weakly as he stepped towards her.

With one hand he tore off her armor as if its straps were made of paper, the other lifting her and gently tossing her onto the mattress. He removed his own shirt as he crawled towards her on the massive bed. His torso was painted with crisscrossing scar tissue. Mjoll traced her finger along a ridge of tissue extending from his lower abdomen and extending up along the side of his abdominal muscles.

"So many scars," she breathed.

"I encountered many things in my journey to Skyrim," Aleister replied. "I do believe I became accustomed to pain for the first time this era," he said thoughtfully. Mjoll did not understand the comment, nor did she care as he tenderly kissed her neck. He deftly removed her bra as he moved his mouth down towards her chest. Her breathing grew heavy and her blood pumped faster and faster. She arched her back in pleasure as Aleister slowly trailed his fingertips down her sides to her hips. He rose up slightly and admired the woman's beauty. She was slender yet toned, with more than substantial breasts. He watched the arteries in her neck throb as her arousal pumped all manner of sweet endorphins and hormones into her blood. He knew that the foreplay was over. It was time to feed.

Aleister Zachaeus drew back his lips, his four canines growing into razor sharp fangs. Mjoll gasped to scream, but it was too late. The vampire bit deeply into her, drawing the blood from her body like the sweetest ambrosia. His own vitality rose sharply as he supped at her lifeblood. Not only could he feel the liquid invigorate him and bring strength to his muscles, but his physical appearance changed dramatically. His muscles swelled, scar tissue reformed into a flawless complexion, and his eyes faded into a dull amber as the blood-starved beast sated his thirst. Lost in the orgy of feeding, he nearly killed his prey.

Finally he pulled away. The taste of tangy, metallic blood still filled his mouth, and some of the gore trickled down his chin. Inclining his face towards the night sky, Aleister released a massive bestial roar. His face began shifting into the form of the beast within, taking on its natural bat and wolflike qualities. The unnatural noise tore at the eardrums of hundreds of frightened mortals, as the sound pervaded throughout the city and beyond. None in the Rift would sleep easy tonight.