THE STORY SO FAR: When dragons came back, no Dragonborn was called in Helgen. It was months before the Dragonborn realised who she really was, and the revelation shocked everyone. But once she knew her destiny, nothing could stop Jarl Elisif from doing her duty to Skyrim, and eventually, after adventures beyond counting, she'd taken Windhelm with the aid of a man who hated Ulfric Stormcloak almost as much as she did, brought the war to a premature but decisive end, rid the world of Alduin the World-Eater, and helped negotiate a treaty that granted independence to the Reach under the rule of her ally Madanach. Now married, and with responsibilities that have curtailed her adventuring days, including but not limited to a one year old baby girl and her husband's adopted kids, the Dragonborn doesn't often leave her home in Solitude. But there is still evil to be fought and many things in dire need of a good stabbing, and the Companions of Jorrvaskr are always happy to answer the challenge. Kodlak Whitemane may have left this world, but the woman and man he dreamed saved him from Hircine proved up to the challenge of saving him in truth, and Jorrvaskr now has a mage Harbinger for the first time in its history. However, what it also has is the Harbinger's husband who is just a bit too efficient when it comes to stabbing things, leading to a shortage of work available. At least until a disturbance in the Pale leads to an intriguing discovery and a disturbing new threat... Sequel to The Wolf Queen Awakens and contains spoilers for Dawnguard DLC.
So there was this old post on the kink meme about adventures that the Dragonborn's followers get up to when the Dragonborn's busy. Given that Wolf Queen Awakens ended with a pregnant Dragonborn with a country to run who can't just go adventuring any more, the opportunity to write something for her friends to do was too much to resist. And so we have the friends of Elisif teaming up to do the one questline she never could, that doesn't require a Dragonborn.
Summary: Skyrim's at peace and the Dragonborn's hung up her adventuring gear to take care of her little girl and be Queen. The Companions meanwhile are suffering a little - peace means less banditry, a free Reach means no trouble there and a place for rogue mages to go study legitimately, and they can only point Cicero at wildlife for so long before he becomes bored. So when a job comes up in the Pale to look into a crypt that might be being used for arcane rites, Eola's only too happy to point him at the foe and let him get on with it, little realising Dimhollow Crypt contains far more than just beasts...
9th Rains Hand, 4E 204 and the city of Whiterun was as peaceful as ever. Two years into the reign of Queen Elisif of Skyrim, and the country was prospering. Trade with the Empire was making the Nords rich, the dragons were beaten back and under control, co-existing in an uneasy truce with humanity, and if the price for all this had been the loss of the Reach to the Forsworn, a thank you from the Dragonborn to the man whose army had helped her take Windhelm and finish the war off, most Nords couldn't really be bothered to complain. Plenty of ways to die if you wanted to see Sovngarde, going up against the witchmen was widely regarded as being the least popular one. King Madanach wasn't openly practicing blood magic or performing mass human sacrifices, and if the newly incorporated second city of the Reach, Deepwood Vale, was presided over by the Reach's First Matriarch, widely rumoured to be not exactly human any more, no one wanted to be the one to catch her in her inner sanctum with the glamours off.
So Skyrim was at peace... and that meant bad news for Jorrvaskr. What had once been the Forsworn Rebellion was now the ReachGuard, keeping peace and helping resolve disputes and issues in the Reach, and meaning the Companions were now effectively redundant in the former Hold. And with young men and women no longer needed by either the Stormcloak militia or the Legion, they were joining the Hold guards instead, which meant banditry was down. Even the rogue mages were all trekking off to Hag's End Magical Research Institute these days. Which meant a problem for Kodlak Whitemane's successor as Harbinger, a woman who'd only been let in in the first place because Kodlak Whitemane had dreamed of her and her husband saving him from Hircine. It was even more of a problem for her husband... and her boyfriend.
"Brotherrrr," Cicero whined, pawing at Athis's arm. "Brother, Cicero is bored."
With the Dark Brotherhood wiped out, largely thanks to Astrid accepting a contract against the Dragonborn who'd assisted Cicero when his cart broke down and again when encountering him fleeing for his life from Astrid's werewolf husband Arnbjorn, and Cicero thinking preventing Astrid from claiming the five figure sum on said Dragonborn's head was the height of hilarity, Cicero's outlets for his particular needs had declined in scope. Joining the Companions hadn't been intentional, but he'd fallen in with them after joining the Dragonborn's side, met Kodlak, who'd been taken with him from the start, gone to live here... and the place had somehow become home. When Kodlak had been killed saving Cicero from the Silver Hand, Cicero had genuinely mourned the loss of a man who'd become almost a father to him. With the Night Mother being tended in a secret shrine in the Reach by Forsworn Sithis worshippers, Cicero had been at liberty to go anywhere... but he felt at home here and seeing as Kodlak had declared his lovely wife Harbinger, the first ever mage to hold that honour, Cicero had decided Jorrvaskr was for him. Where else could he be routinely pointed at a lot of people in need of a good stabbing and left to get on with it? Nowhere.
Except the chance to carry out some quality stabbing had declined of late. Hardly any bandits, only a mere handful of escaped convicts to track down, not as many necromancers as there used to be, and Cicero could only sneak up on wildlife so often before he became bored. As for the muscle jobs, they weren't even a challenge. Cicero only had to bounce up to someone these days and they'd drop to their knees and beg him not to hurt them, they'd deal with the problem, they swore it. Half the time there wasn't even a job, he just wanted to buy something or ask what the time was. It really was very dull indeed. And Athis, dear, sweet Shield-Brother Athis, who Cicero was generous enough to allow to sleep with his wife and not stab or anything, was not helping.
"Cicero, I'm training," Athis snapped, shoving Cicero away and having a go at a training dummy. Cicero had to admire his technique. Athis and he didn't always agree on a lot, but they did agree on the finer points of how to carve someone up. "Can't you go bother Aela?"
"She is not here, she is off dealing with those Alik'r that are hassling Saadia," Cicero sighed. "Ria and Vilkas are still in Morrowind slaughtering cliff racers, and Torvar has become very tiresome since he came back from Markarth having wandered into the Skooma treatment clinic by mistake and they recruited him into their temperance programme. As for the younglings, they are all so very... young."
An awful lot of young Nords and indeed a few others, had joined up after the war, mostly those who'd been just a bit too young to fight and wanted to make up for it now. Which was very lovely, but Cicero, now forty three and starting to feel it, could only look at all these eighteen and nineteen year olds and wonder what their parents were thinking letting children wave weapons around.
"Don't I know it," Athis sighed, and if Cicero at forty three was feeling old, a Dunmer of nearly 200 was definitely feeling a bit haggard by comparison. But he was also a skilled warrior in his prime, and thanks to his new Harbinger, could now boast some impressive Destruction magic skills as well. Cicero knew full well Athis was pining to test them on something.
"So you are feeling bored too!" Cicero grinned. "That is perfect, dear brother! Shall we find some entertainment together?"
"Cicero, last time I went out for a drink with you, we ended up halfway across the country having kidnapped a goat, accidentally become betrothed to a Hagraven, and got ourselves banned from the Temple of Dibella," Athis growled. "I am not killing another giant for you, and you can just be grateful our father-in-law pulled a few strings and sorted the mess with Matriarch Moira out for us. If you're bored, why not head up to Solitude, visit Farkas? He always seems pleased to see you."
"Cicero just got back from there the other day," Cicero scowled, scuffing his feet against the courtyard's stone tiles. "He gave me a job sorting out Mralki of Rorikstead. So Cicero went all the way to Rorikstead, went to remonstrate with the man, and do you know what happened? He fell to his knees and begged forgiveness! Cicero hadn't even done anything! It is so unfair, Athis, why do people always suddenly resolve their interpersonal conflicts as soon as humble Cicero is hired to intervene?"
"Because last time you actually did beat someone up, you had them writhing on the floor in agony, clutching at their genitals while you broke every finger in their left hand," Athis sighed. "Not that Nazeem doesn't deserve it, but there's fistfights and then there's torture. I'm not sure you really understand the difference."
"Brother, there is no point being crude about these things," Cicero sighed. "You cannot just hammer someone with your fists and expect it to leave an impression. You must go for the vulnerable areas, manipulate the pressure points, have them at your mercy and then explain the error of their ways. There is an art to it!"
"An art to it?" Athis snorted. "I really do not want to know what your previous company's ethos was if they encouraged that."
Cicero just smiled innocently, as he always did when anyone mentioned the mysterious mercenary company he'd been involved with in Cyrodiil before his mother died and he'd brought her corpse north to Skyrim to bury in Falkreath cemetery as per her dying wish. They had disbanded a long time ago, Cicero told everyone. They were a small and select group, you would not have heard of them, he told everyone. Only Aela and the Harbinger herself knew the truth about who he'd worked for before, and Aela only put up with it because the Dragonborn liked him and because he was nominally reformed, if by reformed you meant 'only stabbed outlaws and the truly deserving these days, where anyone could see him anyway'.
"Please, brother?" Cicero pleaded. "Please come with Cicero to Dragonsreach and see if there are any bounties to be had? Pleeeeaaaasssseee?"
"You don't need me to accompany you to Dragonsreach," Athis sighed, only to see Cicero cough nervously and shift awkwardly from one foot to the other.
"Actually, Cicero does. After the incident with the soul gems and the cooking pot, and the Dwemer Centurion core, Cicero is no longer allowed in Dragonsreach without a responsible adult," Cicero admitted. "Athis, Athis, please, Cicero is bored and miserable and... please!"
Athis sheathed his sword with a sigh. Truth be told, it had been a while since he'd done any jobs. He could do with getting out and about for a bit, even if it did mean having to put up with Cicero. He just hoped there were no Daedric shenanigans this time.
"Fine," Athis sighed. "Let's go find our lady friend."
"PRETTY EOLAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Eola winced as Cicero's shriek echoed down the central corridor. She loved Cicero, of course she did. Her first introduction to him had been to see him murder a fellow Dark Brotherhood assassin in cold blood right in front of her, and she'd only had cause to become more impressed with him as the years had gone by. All the same, if you wanted peace and quiet and needed to concentrate, as one might sometimes need to do when, say, doing Jorrvaskr's accounts, Cicero was not the man to have around.
"Hello Cicero," Eola managed to get out as she found herself being squeezed to death by her motley-clad husband. "Don't tell me you missed me, you were only upstairs!"
"Cicero isn't allowed to miss his precious little sweetroll?" Cicero cooed, nuzzling her ear. Eola did have to smile at that.
"I suppose, I know you get lonelier than most," Eola smiled, turning to face him and noticing Athis hanging back and looking on. "And there's my favourite elf! Did you want a cuddle as well?"
"I can live without one," Athis promised, grinning at the pair of them. If Cicero was the partner in crime and constant source of extravagant emotion, Athis was the calming influence, the steadying hand, the one she could just relax with and enjoy the quiet. Of course, this was usually easier to achieve when Cicero wasn't in Jorrvaskr. Which was why she usually didn't send them out on jobs together.
"Eola, is there any work?" Cicero purred. "Athis and I were bored. Is there something in desperate need of stabbing? Please say yes!"
"You're offering to go on a job together?" Eola asked, feeling a little bit disheartened at the thought of them both leaving. Not to mention the sort of thing that usually happened when they did – first they turned up with a talking dog, then there'd been the infamous drinking contest that had led to an irate letter from her father about having to deal with Dibellan priestesses insisting Cicero had desecrated their temple, and then not only having to placate him over that but go grovelling to him and her aunt to persuade Matriarch Moira of Witchmist that Athis really wouldn't make a very good husband. She wasn't entirely sure what they'd get involved in next.
"Well, it's been a while since I last took one, and Cicero's clearly getting restless," Athis shrugged. "Might as well get him out of your hair for a bit. What do you say? Got anything for us?"
Well, there was something... Eola picked up the letter bearing the official seal of the Jarl of the Pale and handed it over.
"Yeah. Jarl Brina's been hearing reports of strange lights and noises coming from a cave near that shrine to Mehrunes Dagon Cicero and I visited last year. Wants it checking out. Might be nothing. Might be bandits. Or necromancers. But she wants it looking into. Reckons the Vigil of Stendarr were looking into it, but she's heard nothing from them. Maybe you can swing by the Hall while you're there. Tell Keeper Carcette the Jarl's not someone to be kept waiting." Eola smiled sweetly at Cicero, who cackled with delight. Cicero knew Eola's feelings about the Vigil all too well. An opportunity to intimidate and threaten their Keeper was not to be passed up.
"Dimhollow Crypt," Athis read, frowning. "Never heard of it. You sure this is going to be worth our while, Eola?"
"Honestly, I have no idea," Eola sighed. "But the last time a cave had weird lights and sounds coming out of it, someone was summoning Potema the Wolf Queen. If the Vigil were investigating, it was more than beasts. I think it's worth checking out. You find anything interesting, let me know. I can always find a use for arcane secrets." Or a buyer, and given that she rather owed Matriarch Keirine a favour after the whole Moira mess, Eola would take anything she could get.
"Dimhollow Crypt it is then," Athis said, pocketing the letter. "Get your things, Cicero. We've got a job to do."
Several hours on the road, and Athis was thinking it wasn't so bad, travelling with Cicero. He'd swapped his motley for the black and red leather armour that had been a wedding gift from his in-laws, found in an old storeroom at Hag's End apparently, and he had his daggers at the ready, one wicked-looking one called the Blade of Woe that he'd taken off a dead enemy, and another sharp one with an Oblivion Gate on the scabbard that Cicero claimed to have 'found' lying around Skyrim. Taken off a dead foe more likely, but Athis wasn't going to complain. Cicero's daggers weren't carving into him and that was all Athis cared about.
They were however carving into thieves, bandits, rogue mages, wildlife and indeed anyone else who glanced the wrong way in Cicero's direction, and while Athis wasn't averse to a good fight, Cicero took enthusiasm to whole new levels.
Or at least he did until one thief tried to apprehend Athis just north of Fort Dunstad. Cicero sprang squealing into action, the wind knocked his cowl back... and his jester hat fell out of his pocket.
Cicero squeaked and raced back for his precious hat... but that was nothing compared to the thief's reaction.
"Oh fuck, it's you?" the thief cried. "Fuck it, keep your gold, I'm off- ack!"
Athis took advantage of the thief's distress to carve his head off, much to Cicero's delight.
"Marvellous!" Cicero breathed. "You are very good at that, Athis. Blood everywhere! Truly, it's like watching an artist at work."
"Quite," Athis replied, cleaning the blood off his Skyforge blade. "Say, what did he mean when he saw you? Did you know him?"
Cicero peered at the severed head and shook his head.
"No. At least, Cicero doesn't think so. Cicero might have met him in a tavern or something. But it isn't Cicero he recognised, brother! It was the hat. Skyrim doesn't have jesters any more. In the whole of Skyrim and the Reach, the only person who ever wears a jester's clothes is humble Cicero. And, well, Cicero travels a lot. Cicero visits taverns and tells of his exploits. And sometimes Cicero lets one live to tell the story. A practice Cicero is regretting." Cicero scowled as he tucked his much-loved hat away. "Now every highwayman from here to Markarth recognises Cicero. Cicero never gets to stab any of them any more! They all run away!"
"Wait a second," Athis interrupted, realising what this meant. "Are you telling me that if you'd worn your bloody hat, we wouldn't have had half the interruptions we've had on the way up here?"
"No!" Cicero squealed. "Hasn't it been exciting!"
"You little...!" It was only with an effort that Athis restrained himself for smacking the little bastard's face in. Eola wouldn't be pleased if he beat up Cicero, he reminded himself. But he could make the most of Cicero's apparent notoriety among the criminals of Skyrim. Grabbing Cicero's hat from his belt, he promptly shoved it back on Cicero's head, ignoring the outraged squeak from Cicero.
"Here. Wear that the rest of the way. Yes, we've had a good time warming up, but we're nearly there now and we want to conserve our strength for Dimhollow, don't we?"
"Yes Athis," Cicero muttered, scowling as he adjusted the hat, but being a bit too fond of it to take it off now. And so Cicero scampered after Athis, being no trouble, and sure enough there were no further incidents until they neared the Hall of the Vigilants.
"Are we nearly there yet?" Cicero called as he caught up with Athis.
"Yeah, nearly," Athis said. "It's just over this hill. Er... Cicero? I think maybe you should wait out here."
Cicero's fallen face was a picture of misery and surprise.
"But why, brother?" Cicero whined. "Why can't Cicero come in? Cicero was looking forward to it! Cicero wanted to menace some Vigilants!"
"Because your armour looks like it was taken off a Dark Brotherhood assassin, the Blade of Woe's not a lot better, you've got the Sanguine Rose strapped to your back, and your other dagger's got Daedric artefact written all over it," Athis sighed. "Maybe you should just let me handle it."
"Oh but brother..." Cicero purred, sidling up to him, fluttering his eyelashes hopefully. "Brother, they need to know we mean business! What could be more intimidating than a Companion of Jorrvaskr turning up dressed in Daedric paraphernalia?"
"They'll attack you on sight!" Athis snapped. "Azura's wisdom, Cicero, Eola expects me to bring you back in one piece!"
"And you will, you will!" Cicero protested. "Cicero is skilled, Cicero knows his business, Cicero will not come to harm!"
"Tough," Athis snapped, turning away before the little jester's pouting and sad little orphan eyes could overwhelm even Athis's hardened instincts. "We're not here for a fight, we're here for answers about Dimholl- ohhh."
The snow had obscured the Hall previously, but the wind had just died down, the clouds had parted and the Hall of the Vigilants was now fully visible in the early afternoon shadows... but even they weren't enough to conceal what had happened.
The roof was caved in, smoke drifting up from charred timbers, blood on the snow and with it bodies. It was painfully obvious that this was why Jarl Brina hadn't heard anything from them.
"Azura have mercy," Athis whispered, and the irony of an Azura worshipper committing the souls of Vigilants of Stendarr to the afterlife was not lost on him, but someone needed to say something. Cicero for one was lost for words, staring at the devastation in amazement.
"Come on," Athis said quietly, taking Cicero by the arm. "Let's go investigate, see what happened."
The first clue was the animal found dead just outside. It looked like a dog... if dogs had skeletal frames and rotting black skin and unholy teeth. Even Cicero looked a bit unnerved, poking it with his dagger.
"Have you seen its like before, brother?" Cicero asked nervously.
"No," Athis replied, but he'd heard Vilkas tell of something similar on his last trip to Riften, of two of these in the marketplace one night, attacking the townsfolk, and only the swift actions of Vilkas and Mjoll the Lioness had saved Riften from casualties. Yet it hadn't been the dogs that had caused the problem. It had been the thing leading them. A vampire.
Sure enough, in among the bodies of two dead Vigilants, were the remains of two vampires, dust scattered everywhere, sightless amber eyes staring up at the wall. The Vigilants had fought back well, it seemed. Just not well enough.
"Well, Eola will be pleased," Cicero said cheerfully, poking at Keeper Carcette's charred and bloodied remains near the former altar. "She's never liked the Vigilants."
Not a surprise – tensions between the Vigil and the Mournful Throne had always been high, what with King Madanach rewriting the entire legal code for his new kingdom and somehow forgetting to outlaw Daedra worship, and the Vigil protesting that the new regime was a cover for necromancy, cannibalism and untold human misery. Eola's dislike of the Vigil wasn't exactly a surprise, but even so, she seemed to despise them more than most. Given that the Vigil were also known for protesting outside Windhelm's Unity Temple to Azura and Mara, Athis sympathised. Even so, they hadn't deserved this. They meant well, even if their methods were a bit heavy-handed.
It looked like the Daedra worshippers of Skyrim had decided enough was enough. Or some of them at any rate.
"You ever heard of vampires getting this organised before?" Athis asked. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of vampires attacking settlements – just lately he'd heard of a spate of isolated incidents, but the guards had always fought them off. This though, this wasn't a raid. This looked like a calculated assault on the most organised faction that might take action against vampires.
"Not much," Cicero said softly. "But Cicero has heard rumours. Tales. Stories of vampires teaming up to attack, where before they would stay out of sight and remain concealed, passing for human where they were noticed at all. Cicero knew one once, in his old company. She prided herself on being thought of as insignificant and harmless until it was too late. She would never openly attack anyone. Cicero doesn't mourn the Vigil, but this... for vampires to do this is troubling. He is reminded of Madanach's tales of Forsworn raids but they were fighting for their land, for their freedom! What would vampires be fighting for? They don't have a homeland!"
What indeed. Athis didn't want to think about it. Eola's tale of how she and Cicero had unmasked a plot in Morthal to enslave the entire town was the only tale of organised vampiric predation that Athis knew of, but Cicero swore they'd slaughtered everyone and Morthal had had no trouble since.
That vampires might be planning something similar in the Pale was not a cheering thought.
"Well, there's not a lot here to tell us what else they're planning," Athis sighed. "Come on, Cicero, let's find this Dimhollow place. I have a feeling this is connected."
The first sign that something was wrong was the voices as Athis and Cicero entered the crypt's main chamber. Cicero dived into the shadows, pulling Athis with him, and they both listened in.
"These Vigilants never know when to stop," one, a male Altmer from the sound of it, said. "I thought we taught them enough of a lesson at their Hall."
"He fought well though," his companion, a female Dunmer, noted. "The others were no match for him at all."
Cicero crept closer, unslinging his bow and peering out into the cave, seeing the two elves staring down at the body of a recently killed Vigilant. The woman's eyes were glowing gold in the shadows, sure sign of a vampire, and from the sound of it, one of the ones who'd attacked the Hall of the Vigilants. Honour clearly demanded Cicero kill them all. Raising his elven bow, one of the few weapons he had that he'd actually paid good money for, Cicero took aim and shot the woman through the throat.
She fell back, clutching at her neck, and her male companion turned, weapon raised and magic at the ready. Cicero would have shot him too... but he'd missed the third enemy in the room, a death hound who could smell him and knew exactly where he was. The hound howled a warning to its master and pounced on Cicero, teeth sinking into Cicero's wrist guards. Cicero shrieked abuse at it and dropped his bow, grabbing Mehrunes' Razor and stabbing viciously at the animal, keenly aware that the remaining vampire was bearing down on him too... and then Athis was there, fire in one hand and a Skyforge sword in the other, taking on the vampire, burning the vampire even as the vampire's blood magic drained Athis's strength. But that equilibrium only lasted until Athis closed with the vampire, and then his superior swordsmanship came into its own. Moments later, the vampire was falling to the floor, dead properly this time, and Athis was sinking to his knees, waiting for his strength to recover. Cicero by this point had dealt with the Death Hound, knocked back a healing potion and came to fuss over his Shield-Brother.
"Athis, Athis, dearest sweetest Athis, are you well? The filthy parasite has not harmed you?"
"I'm fine," Athis gasped, accepting the potion Cicero offered and feeling his strength mostly recovering. "Here, help me up."
"Brother, are you sure you are well, you look awfully pale," Cicero said, looking rather sceptical. Athis shook him off irritably. He'd be fine. He just needed to walk it off. Absolutely in no way did he need Cicero fussing over him.
"I'm fine," Athis snapped. "Come on, let's see what else is here. There must be a way past that gate somehow."
Cicero looked dubious but didn't press him. A search of the cabin revealed that the female vampire's enchanted armour fit Athis well enough, and that there were some potions and a nice ebony sword in a small tower to the north... along with the chain to open the gate onwards.
"Do you think there are more vampires?" Cicero purred, grinning at the corridor.
"Almost certainly," Athis agreed, hefting his new sword. "Shall we clear them out?"
The delighted squeal from Cicero was all Athis needed to hear. And so the two of them pressed on, encountering more vampires and undead thralls and even some Draugr. All easy prey for two seasoned Companions, and so Cicero and Athis proceeded onwards, finally reaching a vast underground chamber with a huge structure of some sort in the middle.
"What is that?" Cicero whispered, fascinated. Athis placed a finger to his lips, keen elven ears picking up the sound of voices further within.
"Don't know. Let's get closer and find out," Athis murmured. Dunmer and Imperial crept closer, listening in.
"I'll never tell you anything, vampire! My oath to Stendarr is stronger than anything you could inflict on me!"
"Oh, I believe you, Vigilant," the vampire being addressed purred back. "And I don't think you even know what you've found here."
A gurgle and the sound of a sword being sheathed indicated the poor Vigilant's death.
"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil?" another vampire, a woman this time, asked. "He still might have told us something."
"Bah, he knew nothing. Come, let us tell Lord Harkon of what we've found here – what was that?"
The sound of Athis's own sword being drawn had grabbed both vampires' attention, not to mention that of their dog, already bounding up the stairs towards them.
"Oh well done, brother," Cicero muttered, drawing his bow and downing the dog. "Stealth, brother, stealth, it has many virtues when you are not built like a Nord, Cicero wonders why you're not better at it."
"Oh shut up," Athis snapped, leaping from the shadows and carving into the one called Lokil. "Just do what you do best and kill things."
So Cicero did, and two vampires, one Death Hound and one thrall fell to Cicero and Athis's blades and arrows, and finally all that was left was two Companions surveying the scene.
"So that's the Vigilant who was exploring this place," Athis noted, kneeling by Adalvald's remains. "Wonder what he was looking for."
"Who cares, let us see what he found!" Cicero squealed, already bouncing across the bridge to where finely sculpted pointed arches adorned the central island, a style utterly unlike other Nordic ruins Athis had seen. Athis reached for Adalvald's notes and began reading. Dimhollow Crypt... linked to ancient vampire clans of Skyrim... large central island clearly added later and not built by the ancient Nords... gargoyles as well... all signs indicating that this was all added by some ancient master who favoured necromancy – or vampirism, or possibly both, which was definitely not what Athis wanted to hear.
What he wanted to hear even less was Cicero howling in agony, but sadly for him that was exactly what he got.
"Azura's sake, Cicero, what happened?" Athis cried, racing to where Cicero was collapsed on the floor in the middle of the central island, kneeling by the central monolith, blood pouring down the stonework as a vicious-looking spike jutted up, neatly impaling Cicero's left hand.
"Cicero! By the gods, Cicero!" Athis cried, and Cicero sobbed as the spike retracted back into the stone, releasing Cicero's hand. Cicero sank into a little ball, wailing and sobbing and his wails didn't get any quieter when the entire island shook and purple fire erupted.
"Athiiisss!" Cicero wailed. "Athis, what is happening?"
"What did you do?" Athis snapped, kneeling next to Cicero and casting Healing Hands on his hand.
"Cicero didn't do anything!" Cicero sniffled, before even he had to admit that really wasn't true at all, was it? "Only there was a pillar, and it had a button on it, and Cicero wondered what it did so he pressed it and it stabbed me! Athis, it stabbed poor Cicero, it hurt his poor hand!"
"Yeah, and whose fault's that?" Athis said tetchily. "Here, drink this. And perhaps you'll think twice before pressing random buttons in dark caverns in future?"
Cicero sniffled and nodded, flexing his fingers and rather miserably poking at his torn glove, as if Eorlund wouldn't be able to fix it for him, honestly. Athis, now that Cicero wasn't actually bleeding and seemed to have regained the use of his hand, went to have a look at the purple fire. A whole line of it, and it seemed linked to these braziers somehow. He wondered what it was.
"What is it, brother?" Cicero asked, peering over Athis's shoulder.
"I'm not sure," Athis mused. "You're the one who woke it up, don't you have any ideas?"
Cicero shook his head. Athis wasn't sure what he'd expected. Cicero's knowledge of the arcane was... patchy to say the least. He wished Eola was here. She knew all sorts of magical things, including things most people probably shouldn't know, and that probably included blood magic. Cicero's blood had woken something up, that was clear, and it was probably linked to whatever these vampires were after. If the vampires wanted it, it was practically a moral duty to find it first and take it away. Eola might be interested, and her kin back in the Reach definitely would be. But first he had to find out what it was. He poked the brazier in the middle of the purple fire and was surprised to find it could move. Hmm. This was worth trying.
"Cicero, give me a hand with this."
Cicero did, raising an eyebrow but helping push the thing, and to both their surprise, something happened. The brazier lit up, and the line of fire changed, winding its way further along and stopping just short of another of the braziers.
"Move that one too!" Cicero whispered, enthralled. So they did, and the fire continued moving to the next brazier, and by this point they'd got the hang of it, and it wasn't long before the fire circled the central pillar entirely.
The flames met, all the braziers flared, the ground shook, and Athis nearly fell over as the floor beneath sank, level stone becoming steps as the ground fell away to reveal that the spiked pillar was only the top of a massive stone monolith, revealed as the magic did its work. Finally the movement stopped, leaving Cicero and Athis picking themselves up and glancing nervously at the monolith.
"What now, brother?" Cicero whispered. "Is it going to do anything else?"
"I don't know," Athis said softly, reaching out to touch the stone face of the monolith. "Must do, they wouldn't go to all this trouble if there wasn't something here -" He broke off abruptly as the side of the monolith sank down into the stone to reveal that the monolith itself was hollow... and inside it was a woman in black and purple armour, a pale-skinned, dark-haired Nord from the look of it, arms crossed over her chest and eyes closed as if in sleep... or death, but there was no sign of decay about her. But how long had she been there and how'd she survived with no food or drink?
Then she opened her eyes and Athis had an answer to one of the questions. Vampire.
Cicero had already drawn his dagger.
"Well brother, do we end her?" Cicero murmured. Athis placed a hand on Cicero's wrist, staying his hand. Kill her and a vampire was dead. But find out who she was and they might just find out why vampires were suddenly organising.
"Ughh... where am I?" the woman gasped, staggering unsteadily to her feet and blinking in confusion. "What... who are you?"
Cicero's dagger was gone as soon as he'd drawn it.
"Hello!" he cooed. "This is humble Cicero and his dear Shield-Brother Athis! We're Companions of Jorrvaskr, we are, we are! And we were here to, um, that is, the Jarl of the Pale..."
"Jarl Brina hired us to investigate this cave after people reported strange noises coming out of it," Athis said, seeing the woman's vaguely appalled reaction to Cicero and deciding a voice of reason was called for. "Er, don't mind Cicero here. He's... a little odd but he's not so bad when you get to know him. So, er, miss, what were you doing in there?"
"Not an awful lot," the woman said, raising an eyebrow. "This may surprise you but there's not a lot to do when you're shut away in a stone box for... however long I was in there. I think it was a long time."
"How long?" Athis wanted to know. A vampire could survive indefinitely, he knew, but he was curious as to how long this woman had been shut away. "And why were you in there in the first place?"
The woman immediately shied away, on the defensive.
"I'd really rather not get into that with you, if that's OK," she said, and Cicero's eyes narrowed.
"The mysterious vampire is not being very forthcoming," Cicero growled. "Cicero is wondering why we are spending time talking with her when we were supposed to be killing whatever was down here."
The woman's eyes widened and Athis smacked Cicero on the arm.
"Cicero!" Athis snapped, hauling Cicero to one side and lowering his voice. "Look, we're trying to find out why those vampires killed the Vigil of Stendarr and what they were doing here. Clearly they were looking for her, so she's probably got answers, which we're not going to get if we kill her!"
"Yes, but she is not giving us any answers, brother!" Cicero hissed. "She is being evasive! Untrustworthy! Hiding something! Brother, we would be better served ending her now!"
"Not if you want your answers, you won't," the woman called, frowning at Cicero rather coldly. "Yeah, vampire, and I can hear you, you know. You know, you're one to talk, I would have thought a werewolf would have been a little more tolerant."
Werewolf? But Athis wasn't a werewo- oh. He turned to stare at Cicero, who'd gone very still, very quiet and had an expression on his face Athis had never seen on him before. Terrified guilt.
"You're a werewolf?" Athis demanded. Cicero hesitated before glancing at the woman then nodding once.
"How the fuck long have you been a werewolf?" Athis cried. "Azura, Cicero, does Eola know?"
A longer pause this time, and Cicero nodded again.
"Yes. And she does not mind... she has never spoken of werewolves to you?" Cicero was raising an eyebrow now, looking strangely curious.
"It never came up," Athis growled. "Fucking Oblivion, Cicero. Werewolves! I don't know... look, never mind, we got better things to talk about. Such as this woman... vampire... whoever you are..."
"Serana," the woman cut in. "My name is Serana. Pleased to meet you." The sarcasm could not have been more pronounced. Cicero had the grace to cough nervously and look at least a bit ashamed of himself.
"Hello Serana," he said, beaming at her as if he'd not been suggesting stabbing her a few minutes ago. "How long have you been stuck in that horrible monolith? It must have been a very long time. No one has been down here for ages and ages, and Cicero is sure someone would have remembered someone building all this."
"I don't know," Serana shrugged. "Hard to say. Who is Skyrim's High King?"
"High Queen," Athis corrected. "And it's Jarl Elisif of Solitude – by Azura, she's been queen over two years now, you must have been there a while."
"You missed the whole civil war between the Empire and Stormcloaks!" Cicero squealed. "And the dragons coming back! It's all been very exciting!"
"Dragons were gone?" Serana said, scratching her head. "And... Empire? What Empire?"
Cicero and Athis couldn't help but stare at this, staring at the vampire then back to each other, both thinking the same thing. How could someone not have heard of the Empire?
"The Empire," Athis said slowly. "In Cyrodiil."
Serana almost smiled at this. "Cyrodiil is the seat of an Empire?" she said, seeming to actually find that amusing, and Cicero narrowed his eyes. He wasn't exactly the patriotic type, but it turned out his mother was ex-Legion and Cicero was at least a bit proud of his home.
"Yes, Cyrodiil is the seat of an Empire!" Cicero snapped. "It has been the capital of the Septim Empire for over five hundred years, and there were two other Empires before that! Cicero is from there, Cicero grew up in the Imperial City, Cicero knows!"
"All right, all right, I believe you!" Serana protested, backing off and raising her hands in supplication. "I guess I must have been in here a while – definitely longer than we planned. Five hundred years, really?"
"Yeah. Really," Athis told her, feeling a little sympathy for her. Couldn't be easy, waking up and realising hundreds, maybe thousands of years had gone by. Even a vampire would have to be a little thrown by that.
"Who is we?" Cicero inquired, sidling up to her. "You said 'we' planned all this. Who is we?"
Serana's head whipped round, gold eyes staring him down, all her defences back up.
"That's complicated. And I'm not sure I can trust you just yet." Serana saw the hostility coming back into Cicero's eyes. "Look, all right, you want to know more about what's going on? Help me get home. My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude – I would guess they still do. I'm not sure what I'll find there, but depending on who's around, I should be safe."
"Why wouldn't you be safe?" Athis asked, glancing at Cicero, whose gaze had softened considerably when she'd mentioned her family. That was Cicero all over – the little psychopath would happily kill anyone and everyone given a chance, but mention family and he'd come over all sentimental. Athis knew his mother had died in the Great War and left Cicero a young orphan, and as for Cicero's father, there was some tragedy there, a mystery of sorts, something Cicero didn't want to talk about but which grieved him greatly. What Athis did know was that Cicero was obsessed with the idea of family and creating a happy one wherever he could. If this Serana had family issues, it was pretty much a guarantee Cicero would want to help.
"Is there someone sweet Serana doesn't want to see?" Cicero asked, tones gentle and sweet for once. Serana did smile a little on seeing Cicero's concerned little face staring up at her.
"Oh no. Nothing like that. I'm not in any danger or anything. Only... my parents had a bit of a falling out. I have no idea what's gone on since I was gone, but it'll be more unpleasant to run into my father."
"He is not a good man?" Cicero asked, head tilted in curiosity. Serana shrugged.
"He's a vampire lord," Serana sighed. "Draw your own conclusions. Come on, we should get moving. If we're going."
"We're going," Athis promised. "Listen, we need to go to Dawnstar first and report to the Jarl. After that, sure, we'll take you home. Won't we, Cicero?"
"Yes, yes, of course, of course!" Cicero purred, taking Serana's arm and beaming up at her. "Cicero shall happily help the pretty vampire find her family! Come, come, let us find the exit. We're going to be fast friends. Fast friends!"
Athis shot Serana a sympathetic glance. Being enemies with Cicero was by definition regarded as being a very bad move. But sometimes, being friends with him wasn't an awful lot better.
