Author's note: This is a very belated sequel to my Morrowind story Blood and Trust. This chapter includes a short recap of that story so that it's not necessary to go back and read the whole thing.

I published a slightly different version of this first chapter a few years ago. This is the updated version; the story is completely written, and I will publish a new chapter every Monday. Enjoy!

In Blood and Trust, a vampire named Assurjan Juraene grew strong enough to leave Berne clan, and he became an Ancient in his own right. A Bosmer slave named Raema was given the choice of becoming Assurjan's emissary, the Hand of the Ancient, or becoming food for Juraene clan. Reluctantly, she chose to work with the vampires, becoming more and more entangled with vampire culture- much of which conflicted with her conscience. Further complicating matters, she could not deny a growing sense of attraction between herself and Assurjan.

Conflict among the vampires intensified, as Berne, Quarra and Aundae all united to wipe out the upstart Juraene clan. Before going to spy on Raxle Berne, Raema shared Assurjan's bed. Without her knowledge, the Ancient turned her undead, fearing that she would be made a member of Berne clan if he did not claim her first. To her horror, Raema awoke three days later as a Juraene vampire and a prisoner of Raxle Berne.

Hurt and betrayed by Assurjan's actions, Raema escaped and sought her friend Jole Devan, a Redguard and former vampire himself, who hunted vampires for a living. He aided her in seeking the intervention of Molag Bal to cure her vampirism.

At the Juraene lair with his friend Irarak, another former member of Berne, Assurjan defeated Volrina Quarra in a sword duel that nearly trapped both of them out after sunrise. Later, as the vampires from all clans fought, Assurjan was betrayed and turned over to Berne by one of his own vampires, Silweyn. Ultimately, with the help of Raema and Jole, Juraene clan was victorious. Raxle Berne and Dhaunayne Aundae were killed, their followers scattered. Raema was restored to her living self, but she could not forgive Assurjan for betraying her trust. Still a slave, she continued to serve as Assurjan's Hand, but their relationship was now damaged and strained, and she longed for the day that the vampire would grant her freedom.

Blood and Choice

Chapter 1

Dawn was dangerously close, but Irarak's steps slowed as he neared his lair. Something is wrong, he thought, risking a moment to stop while the sun continued its climb. He glanced around, eying the surrounding rocks. It was quiet, as it usually was; few creatures chose to call Molag Amur's harsh landscape home. He took a few more steps toward the tomb entrance, reaching out with his senses. This close, he should have been able to sense his vampires within; they should have been bright, familiar blotches of Berne blood on his mind's eye.

Something was there, but it was only one, and it wasn't Berne.

He paused again, frowning, as worry began to tighten in his chest. Even if all of them had gone to hunt in the night, they should have returned by now. He had expected to be the last to return, not the first.

Turn back, his instincts warned him. Get help, come back at sunset. Irarak glanced back the way he had come, and grimaced. He'd chosen the Raviro tomb because it was close to Telasero, close to Assurjan's protection... but not too close. Despite his friendship with the Juraene Ancient, having two vampire clans living this close to each other was already a recipe for trouble.

Now, sunlight was gleaming on the tips of the highest peaks. He would never make it back to the stronghold before full daylight. While he had stood there thinking, his headache had grown too severe to ignore; now it throbbed incessantly behind his eyes. Muttering a curse, he reached for the door of the tomb.

Inside, his lair was as blessedly cool and dark as always, but he found no comfort in it. As he stepped inside, he recognized at once what awaited him in the depths of the tomb, and the worry in his chest became a knot of cold fear.

"No," he whispered, unwilling to believe what his senses were telling him. Bloody Oblivion, why didn't I leave Telasero earlier? Or simply stay there for the day? Once more, he glanced behind him. Full day had broken over the rocky landscape, and light spilled through the open door dangerously close to his feet. The possibility of fleeing despite the sunlight ran through his mind. He had endured the sun's agony before... But no, he was not strong enough to withstand it the entire distance. It would burn him down to ashes before made it halfway back to Telasero. He was trapped.

Since he could not go back, he closed the door and forced leaden feet forward, down the stairs and through the first two rooms. They were empty of his people. Personal belongings were scattered about as if there had been a struggle. Some of the Raviro family's urns had been tipped, spilling ashes everywhere. The Ancestor ghosts will be furious, he noted numbly, taking in the scene. A slave's drained corpse lay brokenly against one wall, and a pool of dark blood was drying on the dusty floor near the door. Dunmer blood, by the scent of it... From one of his. He bit back another curse and hesitated at the door to his private chamber, hand hovering over the door handle.

She was waiting for him when he entered, as he'd known she would be. On the raised dais, in the chair he had set there for himself, Volrina Quarra lounged crookedly, one leg dangling over the chair's arm. Torchlight glinted on her armor, and she held something in her lap that his eyes skipped over quickly, instincts warning him not to look too closely.

"Ah, there you are!" She exclaimed, for all the world like a long-lost friend. "I was beginning to fear you wouldn't return until tonight. Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"

Irarak clenched his teeth against a furious retort. Whatever she wanted from him, he would do his people no good if he didn't play this carefully. If they still live.

"Where are my vampires?"

She made a sound of disapproval, shaking her head. "Irarak, I'm surprised at you. No respect, no proper welcome..."

He took a deep breath and fought back the sudden urge to charge at her. She would knock him aside as easily as an insect, and he would be no good to his vampires if he were dead. "My lady," he ground out, with an effort. "Where are my vampires?"

On the dais, Volrina Quarra smiled, ghostly white eyes gleaming. "Much better," she purred. "They are safe, for now. Safely far away from here- except for this, of course." She tossed him the object in her lap. Irarak made no move to catch it; it dropped at his feet, sending up a little cloud of dust. He didn't want to look at it, didn't want to recognize it... But he knew that slender hand, knew the ruby ring that graced one slim finger. He had given that ring to Tredere not three weeks ago. He tore his gaze away from the grisly hand, struggling not to think of the agony she must be suffering, wherever she was.

"What do you want," he growled, waiting as long as he dared before adding, "...my lady?"

The Quarra Ancient shifted abruptly, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward. She peered at him past a fall of burgundy-red hair. "I want the same thing you do, Irarak," she said, in a low, dangerous voice. "I want my people back. But you are fortunate: you have a chance to earn your vampires' freedom... While I must settle only for revenge."

"If you think I will betray Assurjan for them-"

"Oh, no," she interrupted softly. She stood and approached him, slowly, and Irarak took a step back before he could help himself. "That is not why I took your young bloods. They were only to ensure your good behavior... and to prove a point."
She swept an arm to the side, gesturing around the tomb he had taken for his lair. "You see how easily I came into your home, Irarak, and took your vampires away from you. Believe me, if I could do such a thing to Assurjan, I would have done it long ago, and your little followers would still be here. But I cannot... why is that?"

Irarak eyed her warily, wondering where she was leading him. "He is an Ancient," he said. "He has the strength to defend his clan, more than I."

Volrina smiled slowly, fangs glinting in the torchlight. "What if I could give you that power? The power to keep your people safe yourself- no dependence on Assurjan or anyone else to keep your enemies away?"

"To make me an Ancient," Irarak said flatly. "Forgive me if I seem skeptical, my lady."

Her smile widened unnervingly, and she turned away. "You never heard how I became an Ancient, did you?" She picked up a book he had left on a nearby table, flipped idly through its pages. "It was the blood of my clan's Elders that did it. I hunted them down and drained them dry, drank their strength one by one, until even our Ancient could not stand against me. It takes time, but..." she glanced at him over her shoulder. "It is quite effective."

Irarak stared at her. She was lying, she had to be- why would she be willing to offer such a thing?

...But what if she tells the truth?

"You don't believe me," she observed, dropping the book and coming back to him. "I suppose I'll have to prove it to you?" She began to unbuckle the glass bracer that covered her wrist.

It's a trap, he told himself. Ancients do not offer themselves, do not offer their own blood to drink. He watched her remove the bracer, his thoughts racing. Until he drank, he could deny the truth of her words. But if he did drink, and discovered she was right, he knew with a sinking certainty that he would not be able to refuse her offer.

And if I don't drink, he thought, I will never know, and Tredere and the others will perish for my stubbornness.

Quarra held up a bare, pale wrist, and raised her eyebrows. With a snarl, Irarak clamped a hand around hers and drew it to his lips. Foolishly, he half expected the Ancient's skin to be tough, like an Aragonian's scales. But it was thin and fragile, like any other Nord's, and his fangs sank in easily, finding the vein between the tendons. Her blood was cold, the pulse sluggish, a far cry from the hot, throbbing blood of a living victim, but his initial distaste was forgotten when the power washed over him. It flared behind his eyelids in a blinding violet light, as if it illuminated him from the inside out. And with it came a rush of strength like he had never experienced before. Gods, he could destroy her right now, it would be so easy to just-

The flow of power was ripped away, and he staggered at the loss, blinking away the last of the blinding light. His newfound strength faded away... but not completely. A fraction remained, leaving him a touch faster, stronger. Gods, if just a short feeding could raise his threshold so, how much power would a longer feeding grant him?

Quarra was watching him as she buckled her bracer back in place, heedless of the blood that still oozed from her wrist. "Just a taste," she said quietly. "You see what I offer you?"

Irarak swallowed hard, trying to regain his focus after the too-brief feeding. "You... You have revealed a secret, but you are not the only Ancient who could-"

She laughed harshly. "Yes, yes, Assurjan could. But would he? He believes he is the only Ancient left on Vvardenfell. Do you think he will share that power willingly, even with you?" She reached up as if to touch his face, and he flinched away. "Go to him, dear Irarak, and not only will he refuse you... but you will condemn your followers to death."

Her words shot a bit of clarity into his thoughts, though it was not the sort he wanted. He knew there was only one person with whom Assurjan might be willing to share his strength, and it was not Irarak. Old friends or not, the Juraene Ancient would not welcome Irarak's ascent to power.

"And what of you, my lady?" He asked. "If I agree, and Assurjan falls, that would still leave two Ancients. Are you willing to share?"

Volrina Quarra's smile vanished. "Assurjan has destroyed my clan," she reminded him coldly. "I care for nothing but his own destruction. When that is accomplished... Well. We must skin one guar at a time." She stepped closer, milky-white eyes intent on his own. "Right now, this is your choice, Irarak: You can let your vampires die, and live with the guilt until I destroy Juraene clan and you with it... Or you can save the people who look to you for protection, and keep them safe."

He knew, even before she finished, what his decision would be. How could he choose anything else? But he looked away, forcing himself to examine his options. I owe him that much, at least, he thought sadly.

The moment's deliberation showed him nothing new, no alternate option. With a heavy weight settling into his chest, Irarak raised his head and met her gaze.

"What must I do, my lady?"

Quarra smiled again. "You would have made such a better Ancient than that s'wit Raxle," she murmured. "His vampires were no more important to him than the cattle... It is no wonder you left him." She turned away, dropping into a nearby chair at the foot of the dais. "I'll be sure to impress that upon your people when I return. Unfortunately, you and I are trapped here for the day... So to pass the time, why don't you tell me about Juraene clan?"

Irarak let out a long breath. "What do you want to know, my lady?"

"Everything," she smiled. "And I want you to be thorough- we have all day, after all." She waved a hand at his own chair on the dais. "Perhaps you would like to make yourself comfortable... my lord."

Irarak forced heavy feet to climb the steps, turned and sat. Quarra gazed up at him with a smug, knowing smile, waiting patiently for him to speak.

It went on for a long time. Irarak talked himself hoarse, relating all he knew of Assurjan, of Raema, of Juraene clan and its members, their alliances and activities. Quarra asked questions frequently, sometimes making him explain things three or four separate times. Some answers he was unable to give, like why Assurjan's relationship with his Hand had suddenly become so strained, or what was the purpose for the clan's alliance with House Hlaalu. As his distant awareness of daylight finally began to fade, the questions tapered off at last.

"I will contact you again," the Ancient informed him with a pleasant smile as she made ready to leave. "Remember who is depending on your cooperation, Irarak."

Irarak swallowed harshly, imagining Tredere and the others trapped somewhere at the mercy of the Quarra Ancient. Gods help me, if you destroy them... But it was an empty threat, and he did not voice it.

"I will remember, my lady," he said.

"Good," she said with a cruel smile as she left the room. Irarak watched her go, and kept her presence in his mind's eye when she left the tomb. He mentally followed her path southwest until she passed the limits of his awareness. Only then did he allow the guilt and worry for his vampires to spill over him. He collapsed back into his chair, burying his head in his hands.

Forgive me, old friend...