Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim or its characters. In game dialogue is used from the Dawnguard story line and other quests.
Chapter 1 - Awakening
I've met Isran, the leader of a group of vampire hunters known as the Dawnguard. The Vampires that attacked the Hall of Vigilants may have been after something in a place called Dimhollow Crypt. Isran has asked me to find out what the vampires are looking for.
The Vigilant tried not to cry out as a blade sliced into his skin once again, desperate not to reveal any weakness. Every inch of his body was paralyzed with white hot pain.
Never in his life had he been rendered to such a wretched state: vision blurring with tears, stripped to his smallclothes and covered with slashes and bruises.
His only accessory was a pendant, a symbol of Stendarr, a cold weight resting on his heaving chest. It was a cruel comfort, the only possession his tormentors had been unable to rip from his body.
The two figures—no—the two abominations leered over him, swords in hand, nostrils flaring as the metallic stench of his blood grew in intensity with each cut.
Red eyes was all he could see in the dim, torch-lit surroundings, two pairs of hungry red eyes, bright with ruthless glee. And the fangs, their fangs flashed in the fire light as they cackled and hissed threats at him.
The recent assault had created a gash across his stomach, a stream of red erupting goose bumps down his skin as he felt it drain from his body and form a growing pool beneath him.
The female-shaped silhouette shook with a raspy chuckle before bringing the offending weapon to her lips. Her tongue slid along the flat length of the dagger, gathering the fresh blood that stained its surface into her mouth.
The Nord watched in horror, resisting the urge to gag, while her companion observed the display with morbid interest.
He could not see her entire face, but he imagined that it twisted with disgust.
"You taste bitter Vigilant, you're scared." The female voice scoffed, "So why not spill your secrets before we have to spill anymore blood? Watching all this deliciousness drip onto the dirty ground is maddening, you know."
"I'll never tell you anything, vampire. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict upon me." The man spat back in his attackers' general direction after overcoming the initial shock, but too drained to lift himself to a sitting position.
"I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here." A male voice responded, his steps seeming to echo for miles as the vampire stepped into full view.
The flickering light cast unflattering shadows over his sharp features, and his sunken, soulless gaze bore into the bleeding man so intensely it was difficult to maintain eye contact. He stood over the fallen Vigilant, who glared back with what little fire he had left. The vampire scowled down at him.
He lifted his sword, the tip of its blade scratching against the stone floor beneath them. Numbly, the Vigilant felt a sharp prick against his sternum.
"We are doing nothing but wasting time it seems, so go meet your beloved Stendarr." The vampire drawled, and with a quick lunge of his wrist, the Nord was no more.
A sickening schik sounded as the male vampire reclaimed his Orcish blade from the chest of the Vigilant, splatters of red dotting the uneven stone around the corpse.
He quickly shoved it into the sheath hanging from his hip, nose wrinkling as the acrid but appetizing smell flooded his every sense. It was overwhelming, and he wanted nothing more than to latch his fangs into the flesh of the Vigilant and...
Unlike his companion he was not some whelp who licked whatever drop she could find from any surface her tongue could reach. Lokil had more dignity than that.
Turning away, red eyes traveled to the center of the cavern where a circular island in the water stood.
Nothing. The Vigilant knew nothing, unsurprisingly.
Curious that his companion had not pounced onto the still-warm corpse to drain it dry with the manners of a blood-starved feral yet, he stole a glance over his shoulder.
She approached him, whatever sadistic streak she'd been getting off on during their "interrogation" gone.
"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something." She used her thumb to wipe at the corners of her lips, possibly searching for a missed speck of the Vigilant's blood.
Lokil sneered, facing away once more with her insufferable presence at his back.
Oblivious to his noncommunicable body language, she went on. "We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with..."
Nowhere. Nothing. A spark of anger bubbled up Lokil's throat in the form of a growl.
"He knew nothing," The elder vampire hissed abruptly, taking a smug satisfaction in the way she jerked with alarm. "He served his purpose by leading us to this place, now it is up to us to bring Harkon the Scroll." Lokil finished with a fist clenched.
His frown suddenly went upward, flashing a wicked grin. Once I bring Harkon the Elder Scroll Vingalmo and Orthjolf can be put in their places at last.
This victory would surely raise his standing in the Court after centuries of being caught between those two morons and their half-witted struggle for dominance. If only Harkon knew just what rats his two scheming advisers were..
"And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this." Lokil continued through gritted teeth, beginning the march along the crumbling earth bridged that connected to the small central island. The Scroll was here.. somewhere in all of this ancient rubble.
The Mistwalker vampiress trailed behind him with an unnecessary sigh. "Yes, yes, Lokil. Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery."
Lokil's eye twitched. "I never forget who my friends are," He retorted a little too sweetly. "Or my enemies."
Silence stretched between them as they stepped onto the island, rings circling along the floor, growing tighter as they approached the center. A pedestal was in the middle, along with randomly positioned braziers scattered all around it.
After several minutes of pushing the braziers from place to place experimentally, it seemed the puzzle had been solved, lighting the rings with iridescent purple flames. Though before he could celebrate, any further plans began shattering apart.
A low whistle cut the air, a noise so slight only a vampire's ears could detect it.
"Ggh!" Blood drowned the Mistwalker's voice as it flooded her pierced throat, her body collapsing to the stone. The elder vampire whirled around on his heels, teeth already bared to the new threat.
His predator's gaze swept around the nearly pitch black surroundings before scanning his dead comrade. A small metal bolt was lodged into the female vampire's jugular. A projectile? Where had it come from?
"Thralls!" Lokil roared into the empty cavern, an icy feeling of unease swelling within him. The screech of metal soon followed as he ripped his Orcish sword from its sheathe.
Where the hell were they? He had guards positioned all throughout the cavern in case any other Vigilant stragglers decided to storm the place and stall his plans any further.
Spinning, eyes narrowed, Lokil squashed his rapidly rising fear when no one answered his summons. His thralls were dead, yet he was not alone.
"Show yourself!" The vampire hissed with false bravado, finding himself closer to the center pedestal. "Come down here and fight me, whelp!" Lokil challenged to the shadows with a threatening flourish of his sword.
A lone pebble clicked, and then rolled in the suffocating silence.
There! With a snarl, Lokil turned in the direction of the disturbance, and he was met with a steel bolt to his forehead.
She watched the vampire's head snap backward, expression a perpetual frown as his knees buckled. She'd learned that his name was Lokil.
An Orcish sword slipped from Lokil's dead grip, clattering to the stone. His body soon followed with a thud, face cracking to the floor afterward. She wondered how far the bolt was lodged into his skull by now.
The female figure rose from her prone position, a strange contraption of wire and wood clutched in one hand, the other steadying her fall as she dropped from the crumbling ledge to the gravelly ground lapped by the stagnant cavern pool.
Slinking with the grace of a cat, she crossed the small bridge with hurried steps, first crouching by the Mistwalker's corpse.
It was no use. The bolts were not as easily retrievable as arrows.
With a soft sigh, the woman didn't bother approaching the fallen Lokil, instead, she now gave the center pedestal her full attention. She hesitated in front of the iridescent wall of purple light, extending her hand to let the tips of her fingers test it. When they passed through harmlessly, she plunged through toward the pedestal.
For a minute or two she simply circled the stand, finally standing still with a thoughtful hand on her chin. Then she pressed the large button on its top that was just begging to be touched.
The spike that pierced all the way through her armored palm was unexpected.
Her breath hissed past her teeth as pain lanced its way up her arm from her hand, bringing her to a kneel and clutching the rims of the pedestal.
Her gauntlet was pure metal and hide, but the inch thick needle had shred through it like paper!
The unbearable stab of discomfort was gone as soon as it came, the spike retracting back into the pedestal with a distinctive click.
Allowing herself a gasp of relief, the woman uncurled herself and backed away from the stand that had been holding her captive. Slowly, she pulled her freshly wounded hand toward her face for inspection.
She looked right through the puncture now in the middle of her palm with a concerning amount of serenity, her only outward reaction being a raise of her eyebrow, attention falling upon the newly stained stone past the hole torn in her hand.
A fair amount of crimson had slipped loose from the heel of her gauntlet and met with the grey surface of the button, red rivets trailing down its rounded curves and seeping into the cracks of the structure.
The woman's lips pressed together, displeased.
Her blood had proven to be able to do some... interesting things. Hopefully there was nothing too important in there.
The first of Serana's senses to make its return was smell.
The delectable scent was all around her, flooding her nose and spurring a waterfall in a mouth that felt as if it was as dry as the deserts of Elsweyr.
It was possibly the most tantalizing thing she had ever had the pleasure of smelling, and she immediately began to stir restlessly from within her stone prison. It was so intoxicating that the vampire hardly cared where she was as long as she could get outto pursue whatever delicacy was giving off such a stench.
Serana sucked in her next breath in her half-conscious stupor, and was nearly overwhelmed by the unnamed source of her desires. Her knees felt weak, and her stomach flooded with a fiery sensation of hunger that urged her to move, though the best she could manage was a feeble twitch.
The vampire attempted to move once more, and this time, much to her pleasure, she felt her stiff fingers tighten around her own shoulders.
Her hearing was working next, and fuzzily she heard the scraping of stone against stone all around her.
Now she had gained enough muscle control to command her expression, and almost instinctively Serana felt her tongue swiping over her top lip.
Following its retreat back into her mouth, the seal upon her stone prison was broken.
The scent was momentarily forgotten as stale air rushed into her, and Serana's unresponsive arms soon found their use as she felt her numb body falling forward. Her joints and muscles cried when her shins and palms met the floor, the impact jolting her to what felt like her very core. Thoroughly dazed, Serana remained in that position on her knees with one hand cradling her head while she tried to get her eyes to open.
Every single one of her thoughts resumed from the thumb her spell-induced slumber had squashed them under.
What..? Is it.. is it over..? Mother?
Just after this, her foggy conscious realized that the heartbeat thundering in her ears was far too strong to belong to a vampire such as herself or Valerica.
A low, feminine gasp broke into the still air, and even as soft as the sound had been, it needled into Serana's temple. The grate of metal, a sword sliding free of its sheath, soon followed. The vampire then felt the sharp point of a weapon hovering closer to her than she would have liked.
Serana built up the resolve to at last let her bleary red eyes snap open, and immediately received a flash of pain that welled wetness in their corners. She had been in the dark for so long... this light was unbearable.
A sharp, irritating twinge gradually pulsing more and more urgently into her forehead, Serana stubbornly let her eyes travel up the length of the blade now consuming most of her vision.
The vampire squinted painfully up into the face of an unfamiliar mortal woman. Well, some part of it anyway. It was certainly a strange sight that greeted Serana only moments into her freedom: a mortal looming over her covered head to toe in gleaming ebony armor, the upper part of her face obscured by an intimidating horned helmet.
The only part of the woman's face Serana could see was her mouth, currently pulled down in a frown.
It was Serana's only means to anticipate the mortal's actions, so when her lips pressed together and her sword arm tensed, the vampire did what was necessary to ensure that her head remained right where it was supposed to be.
The mortal had been holding the weapon vertically, the flat of its blade in just the perfect position for the vampire to lower the hand cupping her forehead and use her knuckles to forcefully bat it away. Its hilt slipped from the mortal's grip, clattering to the stone ground and skidding far out of reach.
With a startled grunt the unarmed mortal quickly leaped backward, nearly tripping herself on the numerous stairs leading upward from Serana's monolith.
Safely out of a striking distance, one arm bent behind her back to unhook a strange weapon. It was a slab of wood with a miniature bow of sorts placed horizontally at its end. A bolt of metal was drawn back on its string. She took aim at the still-crouching vampire.
Serana slowly pulled her terribly aching body upright, the weapon trailing her every movement. There was no way in Oblivion she would just take a hit laying down, but for now she hoped to appear as non threatening as a vampire could become. She was in no mood or shape for fighting.
"I d-don't..." Her voice was weak, each word scorching her throat that was sore from centuries of silence. "I don't want to fight.. but I will defend myself." Serana rasped, tired eyes searching for a response on the mortal's mostly concealed face.
It was most definitely not her mother, but a mortal, a nosy mortal that had probably just stumbled upon her in search of some ancient treasure or arcane knowledge. Serana was sorry to disappoint; there was nothing of that sort here, just a very disoriented vampire with serious daddy and mommy issues.
She clamped her teeth down on her parched tongue, the prick of her fangs a suitable distraction from thoughts of the walking relief to her thirst in front of her.
Armor clinked as the contraption was lowered, though it wavered in Serana's direction. The vampire eyed the weapon, feeling secure enough to avert her eyes from the mortal for a split-second. What was that thing? She'd never seen anything like it before.
"Very well." The soft voice startled Serana into lifting her face to the woman's. It was a voice that held power, though the mortal spoke evenly, quietly, as if subdued by that very power.
Serana might even say that her voice was pleasant on the ears; it was lyrical and flowing, and she imagined the mortal's singing must have been as equally lovely.
Ugh, focus, Serana. The vampire shook her head lightly.
But.. this woman was odd. There was something.. something off with her. Serana could feel the overwhelming power coming off her in waves. It felt like an ancient aura of sorts not too different from her own that sent shivers down the vampire's undead body. Trying to make a meal out of her might not end as well as she had been initially hoping.
After much internal debate on what she should ask first, Serana tested her own voice once more. "Who.. sent you here?"
"Who were you expecting?" The mortal replied almost instantly, though monotonously.
Serana fidgeted, scrutinizing eyes giving the mortal another once-over. There was no way her mother.. or her father would have sent a mortal to retrieve her. If.. if that was what this was about. Had the situation been resolved? Were either of her parents even still alive?
A pang struck the vampire, her brows furrowed. Her mother promised, she promised to wake Serana up herself when the trouble had passed. Had.. had her mother forgotten about her? Or was she dead?
Serana's lovely mouth was pulled down in a frown. She should've been speaking to her mother at a time like this, not some simple mortal woman. She could not help but feel slightly betrayed by Valerica. Well, slightly more betrayed.
"Well, someone like me.. at least." She murmured in reply, unable to hide just how dejected she was.
The mortal's head tilted in such a way that it came off as.. calculating. Her movements were too slow, almost frighteningly calculating, lips twitching sideways before she spoke. "I see.. well, someone like you would have found you I suppose. If I had not killed them first."
Serana's eyes widened. Turning away from her mortal "rescuer", she took note of the closest corpse. A master vampire... his weapon was discarded at his side, leaned halfway onto the top step. She could not see his face; therefore she could not see the bolt lodged deeply into his skull or the black blood leaking down his forehead.
So her savior and potential meal was actually a vampire hunter. A rather skilled vampire hunter, apparently, if she had managed to clear the entire crypt. Wonderful.
"They spoke of you as some sort of prize, I doubt they had good intentions," The mortal then paused, as if deciding whether her next statement was appropriate enough to say. "...the Dawnguard would want me to kill you." Her voice demanded the vampire's attention again.
Serana's half-lidded eyes glared cautiously at the woman. Even with such a vaguely threatening remark, the mortal's presence and tone were neutral.
So.. someone, either of her parents, had sent for her. They were searching for her. She had to get home, and hope that her father hadn't impaled her mother's head on a spike to decorate the courtyard.
Shrugging off her unease, Serana crossed her arms. She had no idea who this "Dawnguard" was, a lot of people in Skyrim wanted she and her family dead.
"Not fond of vampires, I'm guessing?" She needed to think of something fast before this mortal lost her patience and decided to try to kill her already. Her utmost priority right now was finding her family and figuring out what the hell was going on. "Well, look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on."
The mortal's silence afterward was troubling, but eventually she lowered the weapon, holding its handle with one hand. The other hung limply at her side. Serana couldn't help but notice the peculiar, perfect hole in the center of her gauntlet, or the small amount of drying crimson around it.
Her nose flared, breathing in that.. that tantalizing scent.
This smell… it was what had woken her, and it was heavenly. Who was with this woman?
Suddenly the hunger her anxiety and exhaustion had wiped from her conscious had returned at full force. The mortal was bleeding—or had been bleeding. And it even that minuscule amount of it nearly had the vampire pouncing on her right then and there.
No.. no no nono. Attacking the mortal now was not a smart move. Serana was in a weakened state, and just as fast as she could leap at her the woman could raise her weird bow-and-bolt device and pierce the hungry vampire through her head.
Damn her mother's guile. The mortal must have fallen victim to one of Valerica's traps in the process of freeing Serana from the monolith.
With a few small shakes of her head, Serana did her best to stay focused on the mortal's now grimacing mouth. She'd been caught staring and possibly drooling like a starving hound.
"What happened to your hand?" The words just tumbled from Serana almost frantically as she tried to smother the building desire heating every inch of her undead body. Her fangs ached, twin spikes of pain piercing the flesh of her mouth.
If it was even possible, the mortal's frown deepened. She lifted her slightly reddened gauntlet, and Serana could feel the frigid glare directed at her through the helmet. "...Trust me when I say I am not an easy target, vampire."
This mortal was a genuine firebrand, huh? Serana admired her gall, and couldn't help but feel challenged. Fueled by the wickedness of her thirst, the vampire flashed a full-toothed grin in response. She felt an uncharacteristic surge of vindication at the mortal's reaction, whose heart skipped a beat and chest jerked with a sharp inhale.
"Would you like to test that?" She offered in a low voice, empowered by the fear a mere smile had achieved her.
The moment the words left her mouth, Serana clamped her lips together.
She was being a fool, provoking the mortal like this. Who knew how much the world had changed since when she had been put away; she needed help finding her mother, and she'd have to rely on this mortal and her deliciously-smelling blood for it right now.
It would be so much simpler to just enthrall her, but she'd blown that chance spectacularly with her little display. She'd reminded the mortal exactly what she was dealing with, a vampire, and it was a poor decision on Serana's part, really.
She could always merely seduce the woman into giving her a taste of her own free will… but now was hardly the time for that, and judging from the woman's personality, it would take a lot more than a couple flattering words and fluttering eyelashes to break her. Serana was not even entirely sure that she could pull that off, and that was saying something. Serana was as charismatic as a vampire came, at least, by her own standards.
"Look, I'm sorry. That was just a tease. I promise I won't try to attack you. I need your help finding my way home." Serana willed her hunger away, the steamy sensation fading with each passing breath she forced her normally still chest to perform.
"Where do you need to go?" The woman replied stiffly.
"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do." She'd had her fun; it was the least Serana could do to be civil. "By the way.. my name is Serana. Good to meet you." Her polite introduction could have possibly been more sincere, had she not threatened the mortal a moment before.
"Yes, likewise." The vampire perked up, ready to receive a title other than "mortal" to address her rescuer with. "Why were you locked away in there?" Guess not.
Serana almost choked on her needless breath at that. Locked away in there.. She turned to the gaping monolith that had once contained her, panic bringing her body to life with every skip of her equally unnecessary heartbeat.
Dark, dark, it had been so dark and small. The walls were closing in on her, swallowing every inch of light and smothering the air..
"That's c-complicated..." Unable to control the quaking of her voice, Serana hastily put as much distance as she could between herself and the monolith. She faced the mortal. Not even her physical inability to flush could hide the flustered appearance of the vampire, and inwardly she cursed herself for allowing the woman to see this weakness.
"If you wanna know to the whole story, please help me get back to my family's home."
Serana tried gauging the mortal's expression. It was difficult. Her mouth remained in that unreadable line.
The mortal shifted into her other foot, armor clanking.
"A claustrophobic vampire..?" The woman said quietly in an almost pondering tone. "Alright, okay. But one more thing," Her free hand rose, a metal-coated finger jabbing at the vampire. "Is that an Elder Scroll?"
The words tore through Serana like lightning. She peered over her own shoulder to glance wide-eyed at the end of the legendary scroll, secured against her back by a strap over her chest.
Quickly regaining her composure, Serana mustered up whatever firmness she had to glare briefly at the meddlesome mortal. "..Y-yes," Her cold fingers were then wrapping protectively around its thin leather strap. "..And it's mine."
How the hell could I have forgotten about this? She scolded herself. If the mortal wanted the Scroll, there was no way in Oblivion Serana would hand it over easily. Her mother entrusted her with it, even if Serana had no clue why... but the only way it would be leaving her care was if Valerica asked for it back herself... or if her father ripped it from her hands. Hopefully it would not come to a fight. Serana did not fancy the idea of going toe-to-toe with this mortal just yet, at least not until she had regained her full strength.
"Okay. Fine, vampire, I'll help you get home." Thank the Gods she was willing to drop the subject so quickly.
Serana let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding, and watched as the mortal tracked down her discarded sword. It was a truly beautiful blade; Serana couldn't help but admire the weapon that looked more like a sliver of midnight as her rescuer slid it into a leather sheath hanging from her left hip. That beautiful blade had almost sliced her head off.
The mortal looked over her armored shoulder at the vampire, who hadn't moved an inch in case moving closer would be seen as an act of aggression. "Well, any idea how to get out of here?"
With a great amount of complaining from her aching body, Serana made her way up the steps, careful to leave a couple feet between herself and the mortal. Her keen eyes swept the area, searching the shadowed cavern for an exit. Everything looked bitten away by time, but still just as dingy and disgusting as she remembered caves to be.
Guided by her muddled memory, Serana looked to the right of her stone prison toward a half-buried set of stairs, leading to a path where a solitary wooden door looked rather out of place in the stone and earth crypt wall.
But something caught her eye before that. A statue. It was expertly carved, every ugly detail of a hulking gargoyle crafted masterfully. It was unnatural, dangerous, that much Serana could remember. That was no ordinary statue. It was another one of her mother's creations.
"Yes.." Serana faced the mortal, a little alarmed to find the woman looking directly at her already. "Over there is a door, but I should warn you.. I think that statue will come to life once we get close." She gestured to the hunched gargoyle.
"What? Really?" The woman uttered, a small amount emotion creeping into her voice. Surprise? Awe? She was not easy to read, and Serana despised it.
Boldly, the mortal marched up the steps, drawing her blade. Serana rushed to follow. Hopefully she had not lost her edge after all this time of inactivity. However, the sudden movement did have her head spinning.
"Does the air feel heavy.. to you down here? I'm a little woozy.. maybe it's just from waking up." Serana made an attempt at small talk as the mortal went ahead, hesitating at the top step when the vampire raised her voice.
My, she was in a pitiful state, a Daughter of Coldharbour relying on a total stranger, a mortal, a vampire hunter. Her father would be rolling over in his coffin at the sight of it.
"Leave this to me if you're feeling too out of it." The mortal reassured her, though she kept her back turned, ebony sword poised as she took several more steps towards the still unmoving statue.
Serana was certain the woman was more than capable of defending herself, a blessing to have her as a bodyguard, but a curse if she was hoping to get any blood out of this exchange.
The vampire's red eyes tracked the woman's progress in the near complete darkness, her steps made no sound at all, a curious feature Serana had recently noticed. The boots must have been enchanted, that, or Serana's ears were clogged with dust.
Yes, unfortunately, the mortal seemed to be more than capable enough, but that did not give Serana the excuse to be useless. She was definitely not some pathetic damsel in distress.
"I'm not going to just stand in the corner twiddling my thumbs while you fight." The mortal stopped again, her slumping posture giving away annoyance, perhaps. Trying to guess what the woman was feeling was about as effective as having a conversation with a tree.
"Give me a second, please." Serana pleaded, casting a wary glance to the gargoyle. Even as the mortal stood less than ten feet away, it still had not roused as she was certain it eventually would.
"Okay.." Her rescuer nodded, straightening herself out to stab the end of her blade into the stone ground.
The vampire murmured a thanks, lifting both palms outward, awakening the magic within her. Frost gathered in her right hand, the other pulsing a menacing crimson. She also carried a dagger, she remembered, stealing a glance at her left hip. Sure enough, the handle of an ancient Elven dagger peeked out from its sheath.
"Are you ready?" The mortal's lilting voice broke her chain of thoughts, so with a small huff Serana looked up the woman, still standing in that strangely insufferable, casual stance.
Nodding with new-found determination, Serana prepared an ice spike, the frost clouding her pallid hand in a miniature blanket of fog.
The woman immediately resumed without hesitation, not even when the stone beast suddenly exploded to life with an ear-splitting shriek and a shower of stones. The creature lunged for her mortal rescuer, who raised her ebony blade positioned sideways to reflect the powerful swipe it threw.
Dammit, mother. Just because I remember how to fight doesn't mean I want to fight your hellish creations!
Serana's ice spike lodged itself into the monster's muscular back as its clawed hands reached for the woman, the spear of ice being a suitable distraction from the retreating mortal, forcing another loud shriek of pain from the creature.
It rounded on the vampire, ready to charge her instead, but the mortal took advantage of the diversion. The creature was made quick work of by a single stab of the mortal's sword, straight through its broad chest.
Emitting a final howl of defeat, Serana watched as her mother's creation erupted in cracks, and then crumbled to a pile dust right before her.
The mortal's helmet was tilted downward, eyeing the pile before crouching, her free hand sifting through the rubble. Serana observed the process without question, not surprised to see the mortal retrieve a sparkling gem from the dust. The woman pocketed the rather stunning jewel into a knapsack slung over her back before rising.
It was a sentient weapon her mother managed to fashion with alchemy. Fascinating, but also very terrifying. Valerica had always been.. scarily inventive. The fact that she had dozens of these monsters stashed all throughout Volkihar Keep was even more terrifying.
"I have never encountered an enemy like this before. Was it sustained with magic? It must have sat dormant for centuries, yet it was still able to activate and attack..." Whether the question was directed at her, or simply an out-loud musing, Serana answered the mortal's muttering anyway.
"It was one of my mother's many experiments. She has a knack for creating stuff like this, and probably most of the traps you passed through exploring this crypt." The woman's helmet tilted upward to look the vampire in the face as she spoke. Serana found her forwardness off-putting. She was used to being treated with a lot more caution.
"Hmm." The woman grumbled, left hand clenching. It was the same hand with the hole in its gauntlet. Serana bit her tongue again, and for some reason, she felt that she should.. keep talking.
"My mother," The vampire added breathlessly, feeling strangely flustered all of a sudden. Why was she getting all awkward over this.. this mortal? Was it her strange disposition finally catching up on her? This mortal was a little, well, weird, for lack of a better word.
Serana swallowed, exhaling through her nose. "My mother kind of has a thing for magical constructs."
The vampire watched the mortal's lips part, as if she were going to speak, but they remained like that for several long seconds.
"A... thing?" The woman said incredulously.
Serana's shoulders stiffened automatically, and hastily she shook her head. "Oh, no, what? Gods, not like that!"
Ugh, but she had said it exactly like that, like her mother had some sick fetish for magical constructs. The vampire felt like approaching the nearest wall and banging her head against it.
"Oh." The mortal offered softly, and from the way her mouth was pressed in a line, Serana could imagine the nonplussed expression she was giving her. "Let's.. go, then." With that, she turned her back to the vampire, climbing the slope to the lone wooden door.
Serana did not follow right away, she closed her eyes, lifted her palms to her face, and groaned quietly into them. She would like to forget that conversation as soon as possible. Never in her adult life had she been through such an artless exchange of words. The Volkihar Court had been political and vicious, but Serana had adapted quickly with her boundless wit, sarcasm, and charm. Usually she was the on reducing others to stuttering messes with her silver tongue; she never stumbled over her words or spoke out of haste like she had done back there.
It had been the mortal's fault, the vampire decided. She was an absolutely dreadful conversationalist.
Opening her eyes, the vampire began to trail after the woman, gazing curiously at her the entire way.
Why? Why was this happening? She was being escorted by a mortal, a mortal vampire slayer to be reunited with her family. A family that the woman must know would be more vampires. Was she utterly mad? Why hadn't she cut up Serana like a fresh sweet roll yet? It would mean one less vampire in the world to this mortal, and she'd have an Elder Scroll in her hands.
She was a pretty lousy vampire-hunter, Serana had to say.
As the woman pushed the wooden door inward to reveal a musty, dark tunnel, Serana couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "May I ask something?"
The woman continued walking, lifting her left hand and bringing to life a tiny gold-tinted flame to light the way. "Yes?"
Fascinated by the fire, Serana barely noticed her automatic movements forward. She knows magic? She shook her head again, looking at the back of the mortal's horned helmet. "Why.. why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"
Serana watched the woman's armored shoulders shrug, gliding ahead with far too little concern about a vampire being at her back. "Aside from that hungry look you keep giving me, you seem nice." She replied nonchalantly.
The vampire held in a rather unladylike snort. "I seem nice? I'm a vampire. You're a vampire slayer."
They turned a corner in the winding tunnel, the woman's flame casting eerie shadows over the visible part of her face. "Vampire-slaying isn't really my thing. You didn't try to rip my throat out the moment you laid eyes on me, unlike the other vampires I waded through to get here, so why shouldn't I help you?"
Serana was truly taken aback. This mortal, this stranger, really was willing trust her, a vampire, so freely? In a way it was somewhat flattering, but that sort of naivety would ultimately be her downfall.
She did not answer with words, only a short, inquisitive hum.
They emerged into a room lined with suspicious black coffins. Serana recognized them. In her youth she had enjoyed playing tricks on the slow-witted dead that would appear from within.
With a rush of nostalgia, the vampire continued trailing her rescuer like a duckling.
Serana soon learned that her old playmates had grown a lot more hostile and bitter over her years of absence.
It was strange how well they worked together, like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle.
She and the mortal easily cut a path through a horde of draugr that burst from the walls, rose from the ground, or crawled free from tombs before entering another small tunnel. A lone torch burned in its holder at the end, lighting way to a massive room.
It looked like a crumbling coliseum, rows and rows of stairs for spectators surrounding a long abandoned central square arena. To the farthest wall there was a ledge, where a grime and cobweb covered throne stood. A slumped skeletal-looking being sat in it, its head covered by a black helmet with two twisted horns on its front. Behind the throne was an impressively large chest. Several other human-like silhouettes were scattered in sprawled positions all over the steps as well, archaic swords and maces close by.
The whole thing practically screamed "trap".
Serana realized that the woman had lowered to a crouch, and quickly did the same.
Once she was eye-level, the mortal spoke faintly in her silk-like voice. "That's a draugr Deathlord. He'll most likely know a Shout."
The vampire shifted her questioning gaze from the mortal's now still lips to the hunched figure. "A Shout?"
Metal clinked. She felt the helmet turn to face her. Serana took a wild guess that the mortal was giving her an incredulous look beneath it. "A Dragon Shout, you know? Words of Power?"
Oh! Words of Power? Serana had read something about that before, and had even taken some time to learn several words in Dragon Tongue. She never thought she'd bear witness to the powerful magic herself, though.
"Huh..." Before she had even spoken the woman was already halfway down the first set of steps, crossing over the bottom step of the left rows to climb to the occupied throne.
Serana shot to her feet, feeling a little smarted that the mortal had left her behind. She hurried down the steps, though her rescuer already stood in front of the rooted corpse.
"Be careful." Serana couldn't stop herself from calling to the dauntless woman, who, blade drawn, twisted to glimpse down at the vampire from the elevated ledge.
In the end Serana suspected the outburst was a mistake on her part, because once the mortal's attention had been caught, even for that short second, the Deathlord's luminous blue eyes glowed to life, and its black mouth opened to utter three words that felt as if they shook the entire crypt.
"Zun Haal Viik!" Its strange other-worldly voice echoed throughout the coliseum, a visible ripple of power crashing into the stunned mortal. Her sword was flung from her grip, swallowed into the shadows with a clang as the Deathlord pulled himself upright.
The other corpses had begun rising in response to the disturbance similarly, reaching for their weapons and grasping them in bony hands.
Overcoming the loss of her own blade, the woman scrambled to avoid the swipe of the Deathlord's massive greatsword.
"Take care of the others, I will get rid of the Deathlord!" Serana heard the woman shout above her, already letting loose an ice spike that impaled itself into the skull of the nearest draugr with a crunch.
With an apologetic grimace the mortal would never see, Serana did as she had been ordered, picking off each stumbling target one after the other as they hobbled toward her.
Above her, she heard the hiss of what sounded like fire, and the thudding footsteps of both the draugr and the woman. Only the Deathlord remained.
Serana dismissed her magic, shuffling backward far enough just in time to see the woman blast the draugr's head clean from its skeletal shoulders with a flame-veiled gauntlet. The undead creature sunk to its knees, weapon clattering to the stone and charred, disembodied head rolling.
So she did know magic, unless flaming hands were just apart of her exceedingly confusing existence.
Still impressive. Serana inwardly praised, though she was unable to smother the guilty feeling surging through her.
"Sorry about that." The vampire called from the arena.
Nudging the charred, headless corpse with the toe of her boot, the mortal shrugged. "It's nothing. Go find my sword, would you?"
Serana complied, putting her predatory gaze to use to locate the blade in the inky darkness. The mortal shifted about the ledge above her, the creak of hinges meaning she'd opened the chest waiting behind the now empty throne.
Serana returned to the mortal, lost weapon in hand, only to find the woman standing very still in front of a carved mural in the wall.
Eyes narrowing, the vampire observed the word wall alongside her rescuer, dismayed to discover that she recognized the peculiar markings. It was Dragon Tongue. Serana's still groggy mind raced to gather the little knowledge she had of the exclusive dialect.
"There's a Word of Power on this wall." The mortal's soothing voice derailed Serana from her thoughts, eyes focusing on a single draconic scrawl her rescuer's metal-covered finger was touching. "Gaan." The ancient language rolled off the mortal's tongue smoothly.
"Stamina." Serana supplied, giving the mortal an interested stare. So she could read Dragon Tongue, a notable feat. "Can you read anything else?" The vampire pressed, wishing, not for the first time, that the mortal's entire face was visible.
She watched the woman, back still turned, as her hand brushed along with the carvings slowly. The mortal did not answer right away.
"Het..nok kopr-...Here lies the body.. do..of Svolo, wo..piraak mul...who possessed strength to kill a dragon.." Her index finger found itself resting on Gaan for the second time. "But not the gaan-stamina to kill many."
Serana listened in awe as the mortal translated the entire piece fluently, with not one single stutter or extended moment of pause. "Incredible. How did you..?"
"I took interest in the lore of dragons some time ago. Learning their language was a must to understand artifacts and read ancient tomes." The woman explained as she twirled on her heel to face Serana. She lifted one hand toward the vampire, palm open.
Serana peered down dumbly at the awaiting hand for a good second before remembering she still held the mortal's ebony sword in her own. She deposited the blade into its owners expecting gauntlet.
Silently, the vampire's rescuer secured her weapon into its sheath before passing Serana, climbing the staircase leading upward to a rusted double iron door.
It most likely led to freedom. Outside, the outside Serana had longed for since she'd tumbled free of that claustrophobic, glorified coffin.
"One second." The beautiful Skyrim scenery would have to wait, unfortunately.
The mortal halted, standing just before the door at the top of the staircase.
"Will you reveal yourself to me?"
Serana swore she saw the mortal's lips twitch upward, as if barely suppressing a smile, head tilted sideways to address the vampire over her shoulder. "My, you're quite forward, we just met."
What?
Ah. Perhaps that came out a bit too suggestively. Serana shook her head with a jaded expression. This mortal had Serana's sense of humor. It was annoying.
"I meant your face. You haven't shared your name, so showing me your face is a fair trade, no?"
The woman turned herself around fully. Serana hated not being able to see her expression.
"My name?" A lull of silence stretched between them. Then, the only visible part of her face, her lips, pressed together. "My name is unimportant, and so is my identity." The mortal concluded with a tone of finality, effectively shutting the notion down by rudely turning her back to the vampire and resuming up the stairs.
Serana held in a hiss of irritation, chest heaving as she inhaled deeply. Red eyes stabbed into the armored figure of the woman ascending upward into the tunnel.
The mortal.. brushed her off just like that! Who the hell did she think she was? If she weren't so valuable at the moment, Serana might have just leaped at her then and there to beat some manners into her.
Her mouth tasted bitter when she swallowed the lump of anger tightening her throat, plastering on a paper smile directed at the mortal woman approaching the double doors like she had been planning to do before.
"What am I supposed to call you, then?" Serana spoke still at the foot of the staircase in a slightly wavering voice, trying, and failing to mask her disapproval.
The mortal braced her body against the door's handle, rust-covered hinges groaning in complaint, before it swung inward. Pausing, dust specks drifting in the air all around in the mouth of the darkened tunnel, the woman's hand lifted, waving back and forth dismissively.
Her flat tone and brusque wording was not at all suited for her pleasing voice.
"Whatever you like, vampire. I couldn't care less." Still, she had not bothered at all to turn and face Serana as she replied, and disappeared into the shadowed passageway moments later.
I have quite a few appropriate ideas.. The vampire seethed internally, both hands curled into fists at her sides.
Serana ascended the stairs, passing through the doorway and allowing her fake smile to drop. She gazed upward, where the woman now stood before a closed iron gate, one hand hooked into the circular handle of a chain snaking out of the wall. With the clicking of chain links, she tugged it.
The old metal gate shot upward with a bang, revealing a short tunnel illuminated with faint sunlight and whistling with the frigid mountain wind.
Serana winced at the idea of sunlight bathing her pale skin, but the potential freedom of being out of the disgusting cave overpowered memories of the unpleasant experience.
Eager to feel fresh air against her face rather than the stench of Dimhollow Crypt, Serana started toward the light that stung her still-adjusting, sensitive pupils.
An icy gauntlet wrapping around her wrist brought the vampire to a standstill. By some miracle, she managed not to act on her knee-jerk response to swing around and plant a fist right into the mortal's perfect mouth.
"Serana, wait," Serana looked back at the mortal, a curious feeling warming her chest at the sound of her own name coming from a stranger's lips, even if currently she and said stranger's personalities were clashing. "Doesn't sunlight.. hurt you?" The mortal let the vampire's wrist free, who stiffly drew it toward her chest.
This damn woman was such a walking contradiction. One moment she was treating Serana like an insignificance, and the next she was vocally expressing her worry for her safety?
To hide the perplexity twisting her expression, Serana faced the tunnel's exit , nose flaring as cool drafts slipped in, howling faintly. It carried the sharp scent of pine and ice. "The worst it does is fatigue us, I'll be fine."
The woman was still, her apathetic nature as apparent as ever. "I see. Very well." She replied, a flat edge to her enchanting voice, marching ahead of the vampire to be swallowed in the near-blinding outside glow.
Serana wanted to growl. There she went again, back to the aloof, I-don't-care demeanor.
The vampire pursued her.
The moment the sun's rays met her deathly pallid skin, Serana felt like collapsing face-first into the drift. The vampire managed to keep her footing however, knees wobbling, but senses exploding with all sorts of welcome sights and smells she had not known for far too long.
She was acutely aware of the mortal's gaze upon her the entire time, but found herself drowning in the blissful feeling of feathery snowflakes brushing across her cheeks. Magnificent snow-covered mountains and frost-licked fir trees stretched as far as she could see, a lovely blanket of fluffy snowflakes blowing sideways in the Skyrim wind.
It was a much more splendid sight than those dripping cavern walls and bone-covered dirt floors.
Serana tilted her head skyward, eyes half-lidded to block out the persisting, sinister sunlight. "Ah. It's so good to breathe freely again." Her breath did not create a cloud as the mortal's did when she spoke. "This weather is incredible."
"Yes." The woman agreed curtly in monotone.
Serana faced the mortal, finding her knee-deep in a patch of snow, a fully unfolded map held before her. "Now.. on the matter of your family's home," She approached the vampire, whose eyes trailed her movements sluggishly.
Standing a comfortable distance from the ancient vampire, she presented the map to Serana, her index finger placed on a random mountain near a small coat-of-arms with Dawnstar scrawled in graceful letters beside it. "We are here, but I would like to make a stop at Dawnstar first before heading for Solitude."
Reactions and thoughts slowed by the harsh glare of the daylight, Serana only managed an affirmative grunt in response while blinking slowly at the exceptionally detailed map. The mortal's personality may not have been all that great, but her penmanship was so... nice.
Fresh ink was slightly smudged next to a tiny drawing of a cave, Dimhollow Crypt. Serana wondered how much the world had changed since her being locked away. "Okay... that's okay with me. Could we get moving? The sun's not that great for my skin, if you know what I mean."
Her escort gathered the map together, folding it neatly before slipping it into a pouch on the side of her bag. "I am aware." Serana thought that her boots were indeed enchanted when they did not even crunch in the snow as the mortal began hiking down the slope.
"You know," Trailing doggedly after her savior, Serana's gaze snapped up to look at the back of the woman's helmet when she unexpectedly continued speaking. "If the sun's not that great for your skin, that cleavage window you have there doesn't make much sense."
"W-what..?" Serana instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, where in fact, the collar of her vest dipped a little lowly under the folds of the short cape fastened around her neck by a silver brooch.
Incredulous, the vampire allowed a long moment of pause as she and the mortal waded through the snow, red eyes piercing into the spot between her escort's shoulders.
Was the woman...teasing her? Initially she had presented herself as the no-nonsense, terse type, but.. Serana could not decide whether to feel scorn or confusion toward this mortal, so she went with the easiest escape: sarcasm.
"I'll have you know this is considered very stylish where I'm from." The vampire sniffed haughtily.
This earned her a pithy, but oddly charming bit of laughter from the mortal. "Really, now? I can't imagine you get many complaints."
Serana did not quite understand the satisfying rush of triumph that washed over her, as she quickened her pace in the snow to stay close, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
