He swings his axe with desperation. Tired and sloppy, the Argonian throws everything he can only to hit nothing but empty air. As he passes me after that mishap of an attack, I kick his legs out underneath him causing him to stumble and fall to his front with his weapon slipping out of his hands.
"Castle Volkihar is the least of your worries," I walk towards his head and push his weapon further out of reach with my foot. "You may be cold blooded but the vampires had already sensed your arrival some time ago."
I take note of all the beaten Argonians; bloody, broken, and some close to death. I told them that they should've brought more than seven to try and assassinate me.
"…. C-Curse… you…" the last Argonian tries his best to talk despite the pain.
"As I was saying though, the vampires won't be your bane, reptile," My left hand glows of a dark and cold aura, which causes the mercenary to let out a slight sound of fear. "An attempt at my life will be your worst and last agony."
Conjuration has never been my forte but what I do summon to aid me in battle has shown some of my enemies that even the less skilled conjurer can have the last laugh. These hired scales are no exception to that rule. Extending my hand beside me, the portal to the 'other world' appears to allow my atronach to stand beside me. Her flames burning with exuberance as she hovers in the air.
"Elle-Auria, if you would honor me."
Speaking to atronachs are like speaking to dolls; their presence is lacking and they are voiceless except for what sounds are expected of their element or form. Elle-Auria's only response is a slight nod and the crackling of her flames as they dance all over her unique feminine stature. The gods gave her lips, and yet they are merely for aesthetics as well as the rest of her womanly assets… the only thing alive about her is the fire which honestly, it's all for the better. Conversations are better left outside the battle and she is a tool for combat, nothing less, nothing more.
"D-Dragon..dragonborn!" The Argonian pleads as I turn my back. "P-Please! Give… give me the honor of your blade! Please! D—ggggaaahhhhhhhh!"
I heard the majority of his words but the rest are smothered by the sound of fire obliterating his form. It won't take long until Elle-Auria turns him into a pile of ash and his comrades with him; I on the other hand will be gone before the atronach turns the bloody mess into a foul dried up cinder; Castle Volkihar awaits… my true business lies within its doors. Walking through the bridge, pass the gargoyle decors, I find myself pushing the door open only to be greeted by the pungent smell of blood and death. Again more gargoyles are decorating the entrance, which got me to truly concoct in my head that said decors could come to life any time thanks to the will of the Vampire Lords; or should I say, her will.
"Greetings, my lord," the voice of the Moth Priest… I felt Dexion Evicus' presence from far away, though I rarely pay any attention to it, "it's an honor to have you back in Castle Volkihar."
The Moth Priest is permanently under my guidance thanks to events of Harkon's ambition of destroying the sun. Suffice to say, while this katana wielding priest may have some talents with the blade, the fact that he is blind gives me little to no reason to make use of him. Part of me wants to put the compelled man out of his misery but I'm still more than inclined to keep him alive. Regardless, I nod my head to him and walk towards the main hall of the Volkihar where the feasting and festivities happen. Peering down the ledge, I am once again reacquainted with the gluttonous and more revered groups of Vampires in Skyrim as they drink and eat their share on the great tables. The main table in front of my vision still remains empty; the Lady of this house who now owns on that throne has yet to use her new chair. She is nothing like her father at all; he was full of pride and would flaunt his royalty with no qualms while Serana is quite the opposite.
"Dragonborn." A voice pierces through the sound of gluttony. "It has been some time."
Garan Marethi stands up from his chair to give me the proper salutations as if I needed or wanted that kind of gesture. All of Volkihar knew of my presence the moment I stepped into their waters and yet very few of them glanced my way except for this Vampire Lord. Truthfully, he is one of the only ones I bothered talking to even if I didn't have to and considering I don't take joy in frivolous conversations should say a lot with how often I socialize with everyone else.
"Garan." I reciprocate the gesture while declining the chalice he is offering.
"Very well. Come join."
Being offered to sit amongst all of them does evoke a few heads to look up from their feasts; the 'awestruck' affect of being Dragonborn doesn't have the same spell with these Vampires. Whether it be that they have seen a lot of things, or the fact that some still resent that the Lady of the House holds a sort of respect for me, I do not know, nor do I bother; at least I try my best not to.
"Don't pester him with such hospitality, Garan," Vingalmo speaks with that sarcastic tone as he holds his chalice with pride. "This one has plenty of adventures to take part of."
I slightly bow my head to him as a false respect for his words. He doesn't like me and the feelings are mutual. Though despite their condescending sarcasm, they know their place. I beat Harkon in his very own home and saved the Lady of the Castle; that much they have to acknowledge. I turn my attention back to Garan having fully sated my need to give another pompous Vampire Lord my attention.
"I won't be staying long I'm just here to -"
"See Serana. I'm aware," Garan interrupts; Of course he's aware. I don't come here to fraternize with the lot of them. "She will be in her quarters, attending to a 'special' guest. I'm sure she will have no qualms with you keeping her company."
The dunmer lowers his head and turns his back; no doubt he will be on his way to join the fray of feasting. I can only fathom what poor soul (or souls) is the main course tonight… It's always my nature to not delve into it since I already have enough friction with the lot of these guys. Veering left, I make my way towards Serana's room, passing Garmr, the Hell Hound who occasionally goes outside with me to fend off some daring Dawnguard hunters. I often wonder what would happen if those self proclaimed vampire hunters DID make it pass the bridge, what then? Right into the jaws of oblivion I say. This castle isn't just a place for the Lords to merely hide from the sun and ostracize themselves from society, it's also their haven; everything about this place: the supply of blood, the gargoyle guardians, the weapons, and the fact that this is where their number usually stays, this place is a death trap. I know what would happen if any over achieving Dawnguard reaches this place… a very painful death would meet them. I look towards the banquet room for a moment before I ascend up the small stairs… The stratification is quite obvious… the low level vampires are in their own tables eating their share humbly while the Lords are on the other table pompously telling their tales. Shaking my head, I avert my attention from them and continue on towards Serana's room.
Of course I pass by more gargoyles before the infamous cathedral where I had to save Serana from her own father's clutches. Harkon was indeed an ambitious one. The fact that he would hang his daughter in chains and use her as leverage to have me release Auriel's Bow was a testament of just how far he was willing to go just to get his way. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't fast enough to implement the final stages of his plans… he wasn't exactly Alduin. Giving that event no more of my thoughts, I continue to walk pass the Cathedral. As I get closer towards the set of stairs leading me to Serana's room, I hear a very distinct sound of … muffled and agonizing screaming. I raise a brow at this as my hand wanders towards Muramasa's hilt while I keep walking towards the said stairs.
"P-Pfhnufh... Nu! NU MUMU!"
I already know what to expect. As I walk pass the two torches and ascend up the steps, I lean over to the door and prepare to knock.
"If you are to come in, Onyx," I half expected her to say something before I even complete the gesture. Vampires are after all intuitive with certain things. "I would ask you to take your helmet off."
The helmet part I also predicted. Serana abides by the concept of the vampiric tall tale of one can't come in without invitation… and to her, seeing one's face is a must to be fully invited in. I suppose that makes sense, though it always irks me for I am a bit adamant about keeping my helmet on. Sighing inwardly, I slide Clavicus Vile's gift off of my head and clutch it with my left hand.
"Now you may come in."
Rolling my eyes, I open the door and the first view I get is an imperial woman bound naked to a torture rack in the corner of the room. The prisoner immediately sees me and starts to writhe desperately against her bonds; she calls out to me through the leather strap wrapped over her mouth as if my presence truly means salvation for her. Anyone in her position would be pleading for freedom of course, as she has been obviously tortured. Her body gleaming of sweat and all the while there are traces of cuts all over her. Blood trickling down from the said cuts adding to the cause of her aesthetic desperation. I lock eyes with the imperial for a moment as she continues her struggle but I immediately break it to meet with the person who I came here to see as I glance up and see Serana looking over the ledge of the second floor of her room.
"Do no fret, Onyx," a distinct smile is plastered on her pale face which adds to the ambiance of the golden glow of her vampiric eyes are letting off. "You're not interrupting anything. As a matter of fact, you're letting this one gain a few more moments of reprieve."
"Serana." I smile myself to share the warmth she is giving me. A stark irony since vampires are usually cold beings by nature.
"It's been a long time." She responds with an even warmer tone. Serana is right, it has been a while.
To Be Continued.