Yeah I know, a new story when none of my others have been finished. Ok, I am really sorry guys. I have had MAJOR writer's block with all my main stories. This story is a short 1 CHAPTER ONLY. I mean it! I'm not doing anymore chapters with this. I really have been trying to work on all my other stories but, like I said, I am at a complete loss of what to write next. Please don't be angry, I do care about you guys.
Anyways, back to this little story: This is based off of an event that happened to me in game (only with more drama!). My DovaFem is an Argonian named Cold-look. Enjoy!
He felt so different now. The flesh that once held his enticingly warm elixir of life was stone-cold. Empty eyes peered up at her, his infernal, hopeless adoration still lingering, haunting her and her cruel ways. She had expected this to happen, had hoped for it…right? He had meant nothing to her; he was just another potential meal, a meat sack. It was like asking a sabre cat if it felt any remorse for a deer. She was a predator, a deadly one at that. A Vampire.
Vampires were not new to the people of Tamriel, but she was a new breed of monster. For she loved her curse, she bathed in the shadows of fear and hatred. The Argonian female known as Cold-look had aptly earned her name. Since birth her eyes glinted with murderous rage, and unfathomable hunger. Her affliction of vampirism seemed like it was planned by the gods. All avoided her hungered gaze, afraid a mere glance might devour their soul.
He had not. It had been a relatively cold morning at Windhelm docks when she first met him. The snow was blisteringly cold as the wind swept it across the ice covered barges. She had braved the cold to see if there was anything to loot and pillage. This venture would prove to be the worst mistake of her life.
He had stared at her as she passed, his mouth comically hanging open. He wasn't a bad looking Argonian with his dark green scales, brilliant blue feathering, and neatly curved horns. He being in such a puppy-dog like state brought out her inner trickster. So she flirted with the poor sap, every now and then making a gruesome comment or grinning diabolically with her fangs, hoping to scare out his strange affection. The strange thing was that he didn't seem to notice! They parted ways with Cold-look feeling utterly stupefied and the strapping Argonian, Scouts-Many-Marshes, grinning like a fool. That stupid smile would spread across his face whenever she came to visit Windhelm. And no matter how hard she tried to avoid him during her many contracts and quests, he would somehow track her down, ambushing her with casual flirts. Cold-look tried everything, from berating comments, to scare tactics; no matter what she did he found favor in her actions.
She wanted to kill him, but another part of her, the deepest, darkest corner of her black soul wanted to break him. Make him suffer and know that she was to be feared. A dark conquest was soon foremost in her mind. Her battle plan started with marriage.
Of course…he had been overjoyed when she finally accepted his offer. But she had a plan. The wedding was simple; she wore her favorite black and crimson light armor, while he wore his best piece of ragged clothing. Scouts' brimming smile was enough to make her want to gag. She could hear the protesting whispers amongst his guests "They are not right for each other." "She is nothing but a cold-hearted wench. What was Scouts thinking?" "This is a Tragedy!" If her to-be heard the whispers, he made no reaction to them. The whole time he stood there gently stroking her hand with his thumb, eyes trained on her.
The honey moon had been…different. She had planned on this being her ace in the hole. When they were alone, she had grabbed him and shoved him to the floor. She beat him, bit him, drank his blood. Yet he was unafraid. He didn't care that she was a vampire, he didn't mind her roughness, her anger. Hatred had burned through her like a wildfire. She wanted to kill him, rip him to shreds, and lick up the blood! Well…let's just say that didn't exactly happen.
Cold-look's dark mind justified that him being a source of food, his skills in shop-ownership, cooking, and (to her chagrin) his bedding techniques were sufficient to keep him around. She never admitted any of these things to him though. She may have decided not to kill him, but she still wanted more than anything to break his miserably good-nature. No matter what she did or said, he would always call her "Love" This spawn of Sheogorath drove her insane!
Being Dovakin gave her excuses to leave him alone for long periods of time. Each and every time she would return expecting to find him gone, cheating, or perhaps dead. Of course, he was the perfect husband, just like always. Once she was through the door he would attack her with gentle nips and licks, and love her as if she were the only creature in the world.
But why?
For the first time in, she couldn't even remember how long, hot tears stung at her soulless eyes. They hurt so badly, she briefly wondered if her "cold" eyes were perhaps melting. She stroked his still hand, as he had done with her so many times. Memories of her cruelty to Scouts came flooding into her mind. He didn't deserve her. She was a monster, inside and out. And yet, with all her monstrous ferocity and strength, she couldn't save him.
She had come home to Honeyside, starved for blood and weak as a mob outside searched for her. Scouts looked shocked; he had never seen her at her most powerful before. Cold-look knew that mortals tended to get antsy when they saw a powerful vampire, so she tried her best to keep him from seeing her like that. The vampire laid on the floor, too hurt to move as he came running over. She closed her eyes, expecting him to finally take revenge for all the wrongs she had done. To her surprise, he scooped her up and put her on their bed. Scouts held her up to his throat and told her to drink. He shared his blood with her, and she hungrily drank from him, pure content seeping through her as he stroked her feathers. She had fed from him before but that had been forced upon him. This time he let her drink from him freely, and encouraged her with gentle whispers.
For the briefest moment she had felt safe, warm, and truly loved.
"Vampire!" The couple turned to see the house carl Iona staring in disgust at the scene before her. She pulled out her sword and charged. Before Cold-look could react Scouts tore himself away and threw himself at the woman, hissing profanities.
"Scouts! The vampire has bit you! You are infected!" Iona cried as she grappled with the strong Argonian. "That is Cold-look. Iona open your eyes! She is your Thane!" Scouts whipped his tail against Iona's leg making her slip to the ground and brought Scouts down with her. The sword clattered across the floor and came to rest at the foot of the bed. Iona wriggled from Scouts' grasp and reclaimed the sword.
She raised it above her head looking down at the recovering vampire. "Die you demon!" Cold-look raised her arms in defense, knowing this was the end. "Yeaaaarrrrggg!" The vampire lowered her arm to see Scouts mouth clamped on Iona's calf, biting her ferociously.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. Iona's sword slashed down, down, down, inevitably stabbing into Scouts' back. He gave a brief cry of pain, releasing Iona's leg, before he lay unmoving.
The heartless vampire lay there in the bed, the taste of her husband's blood still on her tongue. She could only watch in a daze as a pool of the wonderful crimson began to spread.
"Oh, gods be good! I killed him! I-I didn't mean t-to" Iona dropped her bloodied sword and fell into the chair resting against the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed.
Cold-look felt something snap, something that had not been corrupted and twisted, something she had not known existed until now.
His stupid fool's grin, his dogged determination, his insane love for her, the very essence of his pure soul stabbed through her darkness.
She raised herself from the bed, predator's eyes locked on the one responsible for the throbbing anguish in her once-dead heart. Iona shrank away from her glare, like a rabbit before a wolf.
What did she gain from killing her? Revenge? Peace? No, her heart still ached as if she were stabbed with a stake. Her husband, her lover, her Scouts was dead. She leaned in and nuzzled his cheek, finally letting him know that she cared.
"Scouts, My Love, please, please forgive my weakness." With this she bit him, hoping to resurrect the only thing that had ever brought her a shred of happiness.
That night her cold heart melted, having faced the tragedy of love.
This was pretty crappy-sappy huh? Well, I felt like I needed to publish something. And, hopefully this wasn't all that bad. ^^; By the way, forgot to mention I have Skyrim on PS3, so...I don't have Dawnguard (FFFUUUU-) which means that I am attacked as a starved vampire. In case you were wondering. Please remember to review it is always appreciated! Love you guys!