Title: Emperor of Darkness
Fandom: Skyrim
Characters: M!Dragonborn/Dovahkiin and OC Snow Elf
Rating: M for Mature
Warnings: Angst, Violence, M/M Slash, MPreg
Summary: While Last Dovahkiin Drusus is consumed by agents of darkness all thanks to the subjection to Boethiah, Nyrin responses to Miraak's threats to open and expose the portals of his already endangered race, the snow elves. Can he save the Last Dovahkiin from suffering the same fate as the First?
Writer's Notes: I only played Skyrim, not other series so please forgive me if there were some factual errors, concerning the Elder Scrolls lore. This is my first Skyrim fanfiction. Also, there will be m/m pairing, which means same-sex romance and MPreg, which involves pregnant male so if either isn't your cup of tea, don't read. lol.
Chapter I: Signs of Evil Will
As the sky went from dark to black, the Dovahkiin felt something stirring within him. The souls he had consumed before now have returned from the darkest abyss of Oblivion to him; summoned to be in his timeless prison of hatred, hunger, and lust... He opened his eyes and found himself fully awake by the time he reached outside in the cold.
His former-red, now black eyes were greeted with an astonishing sight of heavy mist cloaking the sleeping mountains. The night was awake. He was the night.
It was delightful to feast upon the lost souls of all Skyrim. All from the castle's balcony.
In the horizon beyond the black clouds, the shining moon illuminated strange, dancing shadows, which resembled dragons. But there were too many. Hard to believe they would be dragons but nevertheless, the Dovahkiin gazed at the skyline with awe.
"I want to go there, wherever that is," Drusus Dredhendis said, jerking his head toward the distance as he sensed a familiar presence coming from behind him.
"Solstheim?" Serana said, upon seeing the maelstrom across the vast ocean. She shook her head, "Doesn't look too good."
Drusus smiled to himself. Ever since he slayed his first dragon, he felt an anew hunger, not just for blood. He wanted even more of that exhilaration feeling of having more power and knowledge to his thu'um.
"One day, when I'm ready, I will slay all of them."
"Some of them are pets to the gods," Serana said, regarding the named dragons of the legends. "So be careful if you do, you might piss one off."
Drusus scoffed, mildly disappointed with her comments. He never believed or worshipped any deities. So her comments never provoked him in any way, let alone elicit words, rendering her as completely useless companion.
In fact, he never enjoyed her company. She was a bit too naive for his liking. Nothing she said ever pleased him. The only moment he enjoyed their journey together was killing her father. Admittedly, he was absolutely disgusted and terrified when he was forced to make a choice, certain that he would regret the night he stepped onto the island of Volkihar Keep. At first, he was feeling ashamed to allow him. Then, he was more than happy to eradicate that ugly, vile creature off the face of Tamriel. If it wasn't for Serana's assurance, he would never have done it. He'd rather die than to submit.
The satisfaction was beyond his imagination. Exceeded his expectation. The moment he slaughtered that man with his trustworthy daedric sword, with blood dripping from it and splattered all over his face and ebony armor, he felt the overwhelming feeling of relief and he heard the familiar laughter in his mind.
Good... Gooooood! It said thirstily. THAT is why I chose you... Doesn't it feel so good?
"N'malshok juli," he murmured in response, angry that he was enslaved. Seeing upon the lifeless corpse missing its head, he was reminded that he was rewarded with another 'being'. "Thanks, s'wit."
Although, he became the very man he despised since the first meeting, he was nothing like Serana's father. So it gave him the alleviation he needed very much. Now he didn't have to worry about 'obeying' him or being controlled anymore.
By killing him, he also acquired his powers and took his place. But he had no interest or any intention to stay there. Pathetic servants of the former begged him and insisted he to stay to rule because apparently, they did not know life without being commanded.
The malicious voice in his mind agreed that he must leave to pursue his rightful claims. And it was the daedric prince of deceit, treason, and sedition. In other words, an enemy of authority. One of the many agents of indefinite and infinite darkness. Not all daedra are evil, but through man's perception, which always changes, may one day, turns totally opposite. Sometimes, it's for the best to view things in terms of positive/negative, beneficial/harmful, or light/darkness. Unfortunately, because of man's nature, his tendencies are based on the physical manifestations- the experience, the suffering, which ultimately result in the obsession with negativity. Fear is one good example for playing such a huge role in creating such chaos going on in this world.
Drusus only let himself be seduced by one 'evil', and that was Boethiah.
He was perfect.
Beautiful as a man and a woman.
Hate, hate, hate being the low of the lowest
He implored his desires to break free of all chains
Of all things within the system.
Reading forbidden books made him a rascal.
Stealing a bread when hungry made him a criminal.
Loving one from another race made him an infidel.
So in Boethiah's name, Drusus vowed to break and destroy every rule that oppressed him, his people, and all of Skyrim. He would gladly eradicate his own kind for the greater good. He was no one's friend but even if he had a 'friend', he would stab him/her in the front instead of in the back to show the face that belongs to his. Sacrifice.
Sacrifice had to be made at Boethiah's calling at ones of his shrines in the northeast of Riften. He had killed the Guildmaster. He no longer had the need to associate himself with the Thieves Guild as he was currently the member of the Dark Brotherhood. He planned to go the Dark Sanctuary after Whiterun.
II
After spending a day in Solitude, Drusus immediately left when it was dusk. But the feeling of hostility never left him. The townspeople gave him dirty looks, mainly because they were in favor of the Imperials and Drusus was obviously not. He couldn't help but feel the hatred following him as he left. He got onto his horse, Shadowmere, from its stable and headed south.
They will come and get you... the voice inside his head said. Drusus knew already but still kept his cool composure as if he had no idea. Little did they know, his ebony mail could detect any hostile enemies within his vicinity. But how far or close they are was something Drusus would have to figure out on his own. Boethiah do not tell him what type of enemy he could be facing. Instead, he'd drop a hint or two.
They think so highly of themselves.
When he took the roads, he kept his ears perked up to listen to something of a cyclic nature, repetitive, like a constant rush of water... the river. It served him as a guide all the way until the surroundings became thicker and Drusus decided to take a shortcut into an area of densely vast forests, rich with sounds of mammals and insects. By then, the sun already reached the horizons and everything became dark to the point when he couldn't tell blue from green. His natural vision had begun to take over, making everything more in the spectrum of gray shades, making it easier for him to see in the dark. The trees were sticking out branches like thorns. Nature was beautiful... but very cruel.
His armor gave out black, inky aura as he heard some movement. A rustling around the bushes. He stopped his horse and listened carefully.
Finally! They're here, the voice was revived from boredom, canceling the possibility of a wandering animal of the wilderness.
Shut up, Drusus thought, starting to find it annoying. His eyes scanned the area; however, before he could entirely, he heard a little sound of thwish, as something was ejected, and followed by a thwang of a string. And finally, a whoosh just before it hit him in his ribcage.
He growled as piercing pain made him crouch over. Shadowmere neighed loudly and reared up on her two legs in protest. He pulled onto the horse's reins and once she went back on the ground, he turned around toward the direction the arrow came and got off.
Grunting, he broke off the wooden part of the arrow and threw it away, now furious. From the sheath, he took out his daedric sword to face the enemies. Before he could yell at them to show themselves, another whoosh came to him, hitting him in the shoulder. It was nothing compared to the first shot. Unfazed, he snapped the arrow's wooden shaft with ease.
"Die, you heretic!" an unmistakable voice belonging to an elf came out of the bushes. Two more Thalmors came out as well. One mage with the other a warrior with shield. The archer took another shot but with the sword Drusus easily blocked it, by reflecting the arrow at perfect timing. On his left hand was a ward spell and he cast it on himself to ignore the mage attempting to electrify him.
Focused on the archer with inextinguishable ire, he approached to him quickly, forcing him to withdraw his bow for a suitable weapon for close combat. But it proved to be late as Drusus lowered himself to deliver an experienced heavy punch into the archer's stomach, sending him to fly backward. His armor's inky substance followed the body, draining some of his health.
The Thalmor with the shield responded by swinging her glass sword over her head upon him. Drusus lifted his sword to clash with hers. She got too close that she became baffled with the ink crawling her skin. She started to panic and Drusus spun to swing his sword, gracefully beheading her. Blood splattered onto his arm.
"Impossible!" the mage exclaimed as the head rolled down into the ravine. He kept his distance away from the dark elf. The alluring spells in his hands kept changing their colors. He didn't have the time to make up his mind when Drusus gave him an unnerving grin. He already had something on his mind on dealing with this detestable mage. Fear gripped the high elf.
Drusus curled his left hand. Having came from the realms of snow, he opened the gates he knew all of his life- the cold and bitter icy winds came forth spiraling around, embracing him like a child from a glacial abyss. Heart frostbitten and hardened like a diamond; the wind came with the water, forming into spikes of ice. Drusus counted his curses, intensifying his spell from his mind, heart, and soul... if he had any left.
"By the crystals, no!" the mage said, surprised that Drusus was even capable of managing such a powerful spell he thought only Thalmor elves knew. It was evidently a matter of 'fight fire with fire', but with frost.
Drusus then opened his curled fist to unleash the inverted hell. The arctic frost roared as it rushed to the enemy. The frost went through the mage's greater ward, which was somehow premeditated by something else, shattering it, exploding the magic effects into the air before vanishing. As soon it hit the mage, the frost spread throughout his body, freezing him. His eyes tensed painfully. And the body's heat fought and groaned at the crackling of his organs. His heartbeats slowed down drastically. And he was beginning to suffocate. He tried to move, to break free before it was too late but no avail.
Only thing he could do was to watch in horror as Drusus approached him with, again, a spell of different color- orange. A rather weak spell that he did not know well or was trained well with.
"Thalmor," he said disgustedly. His hatred for them was strong, so strong it was indescribable with words and he wouldn't give any of it a second thought when dealing with one of them. Thalmors were high in order of society. If anyone asked, he hated this mer the most- the Altmers, "You high elves should be completely eradicated."
As this enemy fell into eminent silence, being frozen and all, Drusus casually flung the flame spell on his statue-like body and walked away. The frost wasn't just elemental but also spiritual. It continued to trap the Thalmor as he burned. Inside, the mage wanted to scream in agony as the clash of ice and flame seared him in a gruesome manner, as if he was slowly being mangled apart in half.
Drusus heard the dark deity howling in laughter as he turned to his horse, completely delighted with the meal of suffering mortals. He growled, placing his hand on his face. He could feel the pain being absorbed and the nuisance of laughter accompanying it. "Shut up!"
It faded but the buzzing in his ears wasn't giving up any time climbing his horse, Drusus shoved his gloved fingers into his shoulder's wound, digging out the arrowhead.
"Guh," he grunted painfully as the shallow pain twinged nearby nerves and when he yanked it out of his muscle tissues, some blood spurted on his fingers. He threw the bloody arrowhead down in frustration. It wasn't the first time. He lost count...
Drusus climbed the horse, hissing at the piercing pain in his ribcage. He would have to make a camp soon to remove the arrowhead he could not see, ignoring that he could feel the infection already happening. He couldn't believe that it had made through the chain mail part of his armor. The enemy had been waiting, having plenty of time to hit his target. In the meantime, Dovahkiin went on his intended path to leave the scene of corpses.
III
Wake up, you idiot... or should I say s'wit?
What do you want?
Get up, you dumb elf! You're growing weak.
I'm fine, just leave me alone.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Its voice which sounded like a groan at first turned into a rumbling ringing and humming- strong enough to rattle his mind from a deep sleep.
Drusus protested softly, turning over to the other side, his hand touching the fur beneath... wait a minute. He didn't remember laying a piece of... Stirring to his consciousness, he opened his eyes slowly to see an unfamiliar environment. Something dark was blocking his vision beyond what was there and a burning lantern was in front of his face. He was inside of something. He got up quickly. Too quickly.
"Ugh.." Drusus groaned at the wound on his side and reached to touch it. He looked down and realized he was already bandaged up. What the- He tried to remember setting up the camp himself. He certainly couldn't. By looking around his immediate surroundings, he realized he was inside a small tent. And he was completely bare naked with an exception of his matching armor pants.
Then someone came to peek inside the tent. A woman's face appeared at the flap. Long silky, shiny black hair like his, fell down from her shoulder.
"Hello, my friend."
Drusus narrowed his eyebrows, not recognizing her at all, "Who are you?"
"My name is Mordan. I found you along the trees, passed out... and your lovely horse," she said. Her voice was soft and gentle. "May I come in?"
Drusus made sure he covered himself with the blanket of skin and fur. He nodded, suddenly feeling stupid. She was so friendly. 'Mordan' came in and she had leather and skin clothes on. Huntress, perhaps but her face came into full view, thanks to the lantern. And it was still dark. Her face looked too soft for a huntress. Drusus felt uncomfortable, seeing that such beauty before him. She couldn't be a Nord... or Imperial. What in the oblivion was she?
"You passed out because there was poison in that arrowhead," she explained as she sat next to him. Drusus wondered why the voice wasn't talking at all. Of course, every time he take his armor off, the voice would shut up but still, something was not right.
"Where are my things?" Drusus asked. He wanted to get out as soon as possible. While waiting for a response, Drusus' eyes looked at her hourglass figure. Her breasts were well filled out and rounded in form in her leather brassiere and her hips were wide, yet very slim waist. She was far from muscular and in fact, it was difficult to believe a slim, pretty woman like her would be wandering in the wilderness by herself. She would be raped and killed, for sure.
She smiled as their eyes met again. Her brown eyes were endearing. Beautiful she wasl however, Drusus couldn't help but think it was some kind of a trap. Or maybe a dream. She was too beautiful- too perfect. "You are too weak, my dear."
"What- where are my things?" the dark elf demanded, exasperatedly. She was right. He wasn't feeling well and a huge part of him did not want to leave the incredible sensation of warmth and comfort. But his mind was restless.
"Don't worry. They're here," Mordan said calmly. She threw back her long hair back, revealing her flawless skin. The sight of her long neck made Drusus lick his lips unconsciously. Now he grew hungry. And the worst thing, she seemed to know and did it on purpose. Drusus broke that intense eye contact and scoffed.
"You're a demon," he muttered. Why would a daedra help him, though? Which daedra was she?
"Take a really good look at yourself, Dovah," Mordan whispered. Drusus almost took it as a taunt. "Soon enough, they will think you're a demon."
"Bring me my damn things and I'll be on my way," he said, refusing to look at her anymore. He wanted to get up and leave but he was growing both irritated and tired.
"Very well, but first you need your feed."
"I am not biting you, demon."
"Of course. Just as I thought," she said, getting up. She peeked out the tent. "There are hunters just up the hill. Come on. Hurry. They're waking up."
Mordan disappeared into the night. Sighing, Drusus got up and went out. It was still dark but he knew many hours had passed as morning dew filled his nose. With all the moisture in the air, it was very chilly to his skin. And the night sky had become navy blue. All the stars were gone into hiding. Not much time left before dawn. In the camp, he found his equipment and put everything back on. As he finished, he looked around but Mordan or Shadowmere was nowhere in sight.
You're back. What have you done with that detestable mortal?
He ignored the voice and followed the smell burned animal flesh that was in the pitfire. After walking a mile, he spotted a few tents. And another being packing his sack. The fire went out a long time ago but it still burned through the cracks of wood. The Nord looked up to see him approaching. Since Drusus wasn't wielding any weapon or anything. He just walked up to the camp.
"Good morning?" he said, "How can I help you, traveler?"
Drusus looked at one of the tents, sensing there was someone else there, sleeping. It must be his girlfriend or wife.
"Leaving?"
"A-ah yes, we're packing things up. We're heading south, you know... where it's warmer," he said, chuckling. He didn't seem to be afraid of anything but still Drusus could tell he was tense. "B-but do you need anything? Trade? I have some food left over from last night if you're hungry?"
"Ah no," Drusus said quietly. He appeared to be lost in thoughts. "Thanks anyway..I'll be on my way. Safe travels."
The Nord nodded, smiling, "Thank you. You too!"
Drusus turned his back and left. But he was indeed hungry- very hungry. Of course how could he resist a free meal? Right in front of him? It would be foolish for him to let that go. So on second thought, he turned around again. Only this time, what the Nord uttered under his breath motivated him even more.
"What a scary-looking elf," he murmured, clearly relieved to see the dark elf out of sight. But little he knew, Drusus was completely cloaked into the night...or what remained of it. He sneaked right up behind the Nord.
"UNGGGH!" The Nord let out a piercing cry as Drusus grabbed him by his mouth and swiftly slit his dagger across his throat. The gurgling sound of blood broke out in the silence. Then he dropped the dead Nord. It was a quick kill. But the voice wasn't in approval.
Damn, he made a noise. .Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You could've done better.
His wife came out of the tent and screamed in horror as soon as she saw her husband's corpse. She turned her head violently to see if anyone was there but never again she could see another mortal. Her assailant bit her in her neck so hard, she became partially paralyzed. Drusus sucked the life out of her... literally. His victim's legs became weak and it wasn't long before they gave out.
The warm blood that passed through his fangs was pleasantly pouring down his throat. He could feel his guts being filled and his night powers being restored. His body rejuvenated. Tickling sensations came to be his wounds being healed completely. Once satisfied, he dropped the lifeless corpse. The corpse fell into the pitfire and eventually, her hair caught fire.
Drusus licked his lips clean and it was only after feeding, his taste buds could pick up the taste of blood. It wasn't that good. It tasted like corundum- very coopery taste. But it was better than gnawing on piece of raw meat. He stood there for a while, watching the anew flame in its full life to consume the corpse.
You're becoming clumsy. It snarled.
Gazing at the flames, Drusus began to think that his power was becoming too much of an inconvenience. And who was this 'Mordan'? He didn't want to ask the voice, even though it seemed to know her very well. He was not interested in meddling in with their affairs. He wondered, though if he could see her again. He never had such kindness being paid to him. Despite when he didn't deserve it.
He turned around and was startled by a bigger shadow than his. Shadowmere just appeared out of nowhere. Sighing, Drusus muttered to her, "I hate you sometimes."
IV
'Gosh, you don't look well'
'You look like you could use some sleep.'
'You look kinda pale.'
And so on, and Drusus was getting so sick of it, he felt it wouldn't take a lot for him to kill someone. He was far from ill. Or that was what Drusus'd like to think. So much had changed and inside, he could sense that. He wasn't the same as before. Ever since he killed his first dragon, people either wanted to be part of his fame or fear him. He was no longer ordinary man. At first, it felt amazing but then, after a while, with all these damned n'wah inquiring his personal life to fill in their own imagination- an epic legend- of having met a dragonborn, he sometimes wished he wasn't a Dovahkiin.
"A-a-ah! Mind spare a few coins?" a beggar in Whiterun rushed to him when he recognized who he was but not without limping. He placed both of his palms together toward him. For a Breton, wearing nothing but a ragged tunic and totally barefooted, he was too cheerful. He had been waiting by the entrance, baiting visitors to give into pity. Shrew little n'wah.
"Surely with your fame, you-"
"I will kill you," Drusus said in a short and sweet manner.
"May Azura watch your path!" the beggar said quickly, changing his mind about bothering him. To Drusus' surprise, he knew which goddess was revered by dark elves. Although, he himself was a dark elf, he neither cared nor worshiped any of them. He never understood why the citizens worship divines when it certainly looked like they were responsible for plunging this world into the age of darkness.
Even Drusus thought his status was an accident. Oftentimes, he was not what people expected.
Sighing in frustration, he headed toward to Jorrvaskr to visit his companions, to grab a few drinks, and lastly to grab some of his best weapons he had been storing there. Of course, he would stay there for a night or two.
Whiterun... he certainly didn't miss it. In fact, everything was suddenly alienating to him. It could be because it was daylight, but everything was too... pretty, clean, and... bright. Too bright for his eyes. He had his Nightingale hood/mask, leggings, gauntlets, and boots but his armor was of ebony mail. The hood helped reflected some sunlight from hitting his sensitive eyes.
As soon as he enter the mead hall of Jorrvaskr, everything darkened and he was much more comfortable. His companions at the dinner table turned their heads upon him. There were too few now, with three recently-deceased members were no longer could be here for any reunion.
"Harbinger!" Vilkas exclaimed, totally surprised and happy to see him.
"Drusus!" Farkas.
"Welcome back home, Shield-Brother." Aela the Huntress.
It felt like home, but also a lonely place. Drusus just nodded his head, acknowledging them and went straight to the private quarters downstairs, towards used-to-be-Kodlak's bedroom, now his. Inside, he immediately took his hood and mask off. Scent of old mead and burning candles filled his nose.
As Drusus began to take off his armor, he heard someone in the hallways; footsteps became louder each time as he approached. He knew which who. Meanwhile, he took the metal clamps off the main armor to loosen it from his chest, sounds of clicking broke out in the room, and along secondary metal mail, he took it over his head. It was incredibly heavy the first time he wore it; his arms and shoulders became sore as a result. But now, it was nothing. He could carry the ebony mail with ease.
"Drusus?" a meek voice said. "I-I don't mean to-"
The dragonborn had his back to Farkas and did not mind his presence at all. He acted as if nothing had changed. Farkas slowly came inside the room, closing the door. By then, Drusus already removed his pauldrons [arm guards] and the cuirass [undergarment].
"Mean to interrupt you..." Farkas' words fell silent as his eyes feasted upon naked flesh. The back of the dark elf was taut, so well-built Farkas found himself with that familiar mouth-watering lust. He couldn't believe at how much muscle Drusus gained since the last time he saw him. Although the wolf spirit inside him was banished, he still had that urge from time to time. To eat him. To devour him. Not literally. His sweaty, light gray skin looked so delicious at the moment. So sexy.
He swallowed hard, "I just want you to know-" he started to stutter, nervous. His heart fluttered wildly, "W-want you know that you know. I missed you."
Drusus smirked and turned around to face him. He put the last pieces of his armor on nearby chair. Then he took his obsidian black hair out of a pontytail so the hair could fall to join the strands that framed his unmistakably masculine face. "Yeah?"
"A-and there's something I need to tell you," Farkas said, finally sighing. He was trying hard not to have his eyes wander to his chest- at his hard pectorals, nipples, abs, and maybe... maybe he was as aroused as he?
"What is it?" Drusus said, never losing his cool composure. He seemed so different to Farkas. His very black, silky and shiny hair was very long compared to last time. It now fell past his shoulders. Being a dark elf, the skin he had was always dark gray but now it seemed to be much more pale. Something... was off. The figure was dark, very overwhelming with just his presence. Wait a minute, his eyes were completely blacked out. No blood-redness. Just empty void in these eyes. There were nothing to 'read'.
Farkas was gawking, questioning whether he was dreaming or not. It was almost surreal- being in the same room as a Dovahkiin and a-a ... Farkas didn't want to say this word. The strange, tinkling feeling in his body was indescribable.
Quickly, he broke eye contact and continued, "Well I-I was lonely- lonely here without you... it had been so long. I really missed you. A-and I-I met this really nice lady..."
Drusus chuckled, understanding where it was going. "Don't worry about it."
"Eh, H-harbinger..."
It wasn't like they were in a relationship or anything. They never discussed such things. Sure, they spent a few nights together in the same 'bed'. But for Drusus, they were driven by lust- sexual gratification. They did it to do each other a favor and that was all. If Farkas thought otherwise and that Drusus would be mad, he was sadly mistaken. They were too different.
Even if Drusus did have any ounce of feeling for the Nord, he surely didn't realize or have the time when he undertook a journey towards the northeast part of Skyrim, which hardened him.
Drusus came close to his former lover, so close till their breathing was loud compared to the silence in the room and noticed his becoming slower. It became clear Farkas had strong feelings for the dark elf, even though he made it look like he had betrayed his love.
"Farkas, you know that I care about you, right?" Drusus whispered and lifted the Nord's chin up with his finger, "If I didn't, I wouldn't have to come here."
Farkas frowned at him. It was a tactic of emotional manipulation. He stepped back, saying with a new-found confidence, "You're not the man I knew."
Drusus smirked again, slowly blinking. He looked away in defeat as Nord saw right through it. Let the man believe whatever. It was a reason good enough not to stay at Jorrvaskr. It wasn't his home anymore. He agreed with Farkas' observation though. He was not the same. And they left it at that.
V
Vilkas and Drusus took a stroll through Whiterun's beautiful, immaculate landscaping and garden. It was during busiest hour as everyone seemed to be out of their houses. It was so upbeat, so alive Drusus wondered where in the oblivion they came from. He hated being around people, preferring to be out there killing something but being with his companion, just catching up made it bearable.
Because he no longer could walk outside in broad daylight without his hood, he got quite a few heads turned on him. They knew who he was but nevertheless, his strange, intimidating armor never ceased to make the townspeople feel uncomfortable and guards nervous. The daedric one-handed swords were sheathed securely on his back. Yes, he was far more suspicious than the Redguards at the gates.
As the morals walked through the bustling crowd, Vilkas was babbling about Aela or something. Drusus wasn't sure which topic he was on. He half-heartedly listened to him. Compared to his twin brother, he was awfully talkative.
"...so it was completely understandable why Aela was so pissed. I mean- I can see why you chose to be a vampire than- OW!"
Drusus jabbed him in his ribcage. Although wearing his usual armor, Drusis managed to hit him hard, especially with his ebony gauntlets.
"We're in public, s'wit," Drusus whispered harshly, placing his comment on that word he just said, "Do you tell them you were a werewolf?"
"Sorry. You're right," Vilkas groaaned, rubbing his armor where it hurt, "By Ysmar's beard, you have become much stronger."
Drusus sighed and shook his head at his stupidity. Vilkas must have forgotten that he was no longer a lycanthropic, thus not feeling restricted to exposing secrets or burdens. Though, the dark elf wondered if Vilkas still had blood thirst. Currently, he wasn't wearing a mask. He saw delicious-looking meat that was hooked up in the foods section of the market and licked his lips, his hunger growing. There were plenty of blood-soaked fresh meat around and he could understand how The Circle was able to curb its members' hunger, keeping theirs in check. Drusus was going to feed off of Farkas but after last night, he knew his now former Nordic lover would say no. His seduction didn't even work.
"So any news on dragons?" Drusus asked, with hope.
"No, it's like they're playing hide and seek. Those bastards. I'll keep my eyes and ears open, though. Just come here often."
Drusus was sorely disappointed. Then a loud, annoying voice shouted in his ears, "BOOK SALE! CHEAP BOOKS! GET YOUR COPY OF THE BETRAYED! WE HAVE RARE BOOKS HERE! CHEAP!"
It was clear it was a traveling bookseller. The wagon filled with books was inconveniently placed partially over the path, blocking the way. Angry, Drusus turned his head to see the bookseller waving his books violently. When the Argonian saw that he had his attention, he waved the book in his face. "ONLY 30 SEPTIMS!"
Drusus snatched the book out of his hand and snarled, "You're a rip-off. In this condition, it's not even worth 20 Septims, n'wah. And I have a copy myself. "
The poor Argonian was then frightened by Drusus' darkened face and look. He flicked out his tongue nervously, "O-okay, you can have it. Free."
"Take it easy, friend. I'll pay."
"Don't bother," Drusus said, disgusted with the bookseller's crookedness. He pushed the book back against his scaly chest and walked away. But Vilkas, being a good-natured man, paid for the book and took it. He opened to the first page as he followed Drusus to see a introductory short poem about the Falmers. But he understood naught of it.
"It looks interesting. Did you read it?"
"Nah," he replied, slightly disturbed at his founded interest. He never found Vilkas to be the type who reads books. Both men went into The Drunken Huntsman since the Bannered Mare was too crowded. Once inside, the whole place reeked of ales and meads coming from slug-breaths. It was much more to their type. No annoying bards or loud clamoring. It was that mellow.
They both sat down at the bar where a Bosmer, Elrindir, was wiping down the bar countertop. When he saw who sat, he smiled and said, "Hello, my Nordic friend." then shot a dirty look at the Dunmer, "Something you need, you miserable wretch?"
"Black-Briar, please."
"What did you do?" Vilkas asked, wondering what he could have done.
"Nothing."
"Just a Nord mead," Vilkas said and placed the book on the counter. Drusus couldn't help but stared at them distastefully. Vilkas... and that book.
"Do you know much about it?"
"It's about the Falmers, hence the title."
"Falmers. What's that?"
Drusus almost fell off the bar stool. What? He never heard of the Falmers? He shot him a 'Are-you-kidding-me' look. He shook his head violently, wishing he didn't hear that. He had encountered plenty of Falmers- these atrocious-looking creatures that lived in the dark. He remembered his first time being underground with them, before he could see in the dark. It was menacing. You just never know where they come from. They could be waiting or sleeping in one of these dark corners. But after killing a few of them, he realized that they were blind upon investigating their corpses. And it explained how clumsy their attacks were.. One of them even crawled by him as if he was not there. They made gurgling sounds and grunts as they roamed their 'home.' But their ghoulish screeches every time they acknowledged his presence were by no means welcoming. Even sometimes they killed their own kind by accident.
Despite creepy atmosphere and terrifying looking species, they were incredibly dumb and easy to manipulate- so dumb you quickly feel sorry for them. However one could easily let his own guard down and be totally decimated by their own inventions of weapons, which turned out were made with some sophisticated intelligence. Rule of thumb- don't over or underestimate your enemies- never let your guard down. Even an innocent-looking child can kill an adult. Legends had it a child killed the Prince of Snow Elves, which served as final chapter of their entire race. It was not always a matter of physical strength or intelligence. Every enemy has its own weakness and strength afterall.
"You never heard of Falmers?" Drusus asked astonishingly and was replied with a shaking head, "Snow Elves?"
"Snow elves? Maybe... didn't they go extinct ancient ago?"
"They say they did. They all disappeared shortly after the Dwemers, especially after the wars with the Nords. You should know this."
"Ah, ah, well," Vilkas was looking for a defense, "I don't have the time to read...And nobody talks about no snow elves."
That was true. Drusus heard most about Falmers in the far West, especially in Markarth, where there were many Dwemers die-hard fans and researchers. It was impossible for them not to include the Falmers as well as they played a huge role in their demise, whatever it was. And he could not ignore the presence of Silver-Hand clan there either because his companions were... well lycanthropic so they could not be near their greater enemies.
"You seem to know a lot about them," Vilkas said, suddenly curious, "Tell me more."
"I've seen them. The Falmers, I mean. They are what remained of the snow elves. Twisted and betrayed by Dwemers into slavery. Now, they look nothing like their ancestors- only twisted, monstrous... just read it."
"Ahum... Well, I..." Vilkas started. He looked at the book, contemplating what to tell him. He then wished Drusus had read it. But nope, nope. Drusus didn't have the time to read rubbish books, especially when there were so much to do. Finally, Elrindir showed up with their drinks.
"What took you so damn long?" Drusus accused.
"I had to go to the stockroom to find the one you want. I didn't think we had any left. Well you're in luck- last one. We don't normally serve garbage from Riften, the shithole you love so much."
"Fletcher," Drusus muttered, giving him generous amount of septims.
"Ah, I read that book," Elrindir commented, pointing at the book, "The snow elves. Sad but true. They were once a prosperous race, proud and-"
"I don't remember asking for a lecture," the dark elf interrupted with drop-dead sarcasm.
"Ignore him," Vilkas chimed in, "Tell me more."
"Ugh, just read it when you get back," Drusus was increasingly annoyed by his strange new interest. They didn't go to this tavern to discuss a stupid book or snow elves.
"Drusus, I can't read," Vilkas finally said. There. He said it. How embarrassing.
A few moment of silence.
"A nord can't read," Drusus stated mostly to himself, rubbing his forehead. Now he was sporting a headache. There was much more to learn about this fella, then. He thought he knew his companion. Apparently, he was just as dumb as his brother. Sighing, he took a big one from his drink.
"Well, I can't say much 'cuz I don't know much but I have hunters coming in here, swearing they have seen them when they were out there," Elrindir said, "The rumors spread and off they went to hunt them down. Of course, they have never seen them."
"Why hunt them down?" Vilkas wondered.
Elrindir just shrugged. "If anything's rare, legendary, or extraordinary- Worth a lot of gold."
Vilkas shook his head and took the book in his hand, "Some people would do anything to get gold."
"Yes, yes. In that book, they said they were highly enlightened, highly intelligent race. Well-loved by the gods and goddesses, possibly even most dangerous, considering how advanced they were, even at some point more advanced than the Dwemers. I'd say they got it coming."
"Dwemers- I know a few good stories!" Vilkas chirped.
Drusus just wanted to kill himself there then. Irritated, after another sip, he slammed his mead on the wooden countertop. He grabbed the book out of Vilkas' hands and swiftly threw it sideways towards the windows across the tavern, spinning some drunkards' heads on the way; the book went through, shattering the opaque glass and it was gone! Drusus went back to drinking, ignoring the sudden silence that flash-flooded the room and shocked faces turned on his back.
Writer's Note: Next chapter will feature sparkly snow elves! PS. Please review, help me if there's an error with its lore. Obviously, there are some parts I will make up, especially with the snow elves. The greatest mystery!