Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Oblivion or any characters, plots or other elements there within, and I gain no monetary profit from the writing of this story. I do claim responsibility for Elowyn Demark and one or two random characters scattered throughout the story.
Chapter 2
The castle was quiet in the wee hours before dawn. On highly trained feet, Elowyn slid wraith-like behind dozing guards and past restless chambermaids. She was confident enough in her own abilities to know that even had anyone been looking for her, she could likely have escaped detection. Now, oblivious to her presence as they were, she knew no one would notice her unless she wanted them to.
Except for one person, perhaps, but that was her plan all along, and even if he did not notice, she would make it easy for him. She tiptoed along the causeway toward the door and pulled a small, silver key from a pouch on her belt. She smiled as she unlocked the door, remembering to herself how she had so easily stolen the key so many years ago from an obnoxious, pompous Orc who had served at the castle.
Once inside the large inner chambers, she relaxed, letting her feet fall too loudly on the floor, purposely disturbing the candles along the walls so that shadows flickered and danced unnaturally. She pulled her cowl forward to cover more of her face and made straight for his bedchamber. The door made no sound as she pushed it open, but she noticed with a smile that he was not inside. At least he had not let his guard down after all these years.
She took a slow step forward into the dimly lit room, well aware of the presence looming behind her, though most other creatures would not have been able to sense him. He was waiting to see what the thief in his lair was going to do next, but Elowyn did nothing but stand still, her eyes aimlessly drifting around the large chamber. After a pause, she even let out a bored sigh and debated simply turning around. When he jerked forward to lock his arm around her throat, she made no move to escape.
A dagger dug painfully into her ribs, and the heat of his breath brushed against her cheek, his voice low and threatening as he spoke. "You must be very young and foolish to believe I will tolerate your intrusion upon my territory."
The Redguard strained to answer around the merciless grip of the older vampire's arm around her neck, but the amusement in her tone was unmistakable. "And you must be v…very old and senile to think you'd be…able to catch me if I didn't want to be caught."
His arm dropped away from her and she offered no resistance as he grasped her firmly by the shoulders and twisted her to face him. Shock was not an emotion she had ever seen him display, and she had to feel smug at the outright disbelief on the Imperial noble's face. "Elowyn Demark?"
"Janus Hassildor," she replied with a sly smile.
The Count of Skingrad's grip on her shoulders tightened painfully for a moment as if he were assuring himself that she was indeed real, then his hands dropped to his side and returned the curved dagger to its sheath. "Forgive me," he murmured with a quiet shake of his head, "but you are supposed to be dead."
"Yeah," she answered in a slow drawl, her eyes drifting away from his matching crimson stare as her voice trailed off for a moment, "I'm supposed to be a lot of things, hmm? Too many things. Hard to keep them all straight."
The elder vampire searched her face for a long pause, then gestured somewhat reluctantly to a table in the corner. "I would say it is good to see you alive and well, but I am not certain that is the case yet. I assume you have good reason for being here now," he said as she dropped her pack beside a chair and sat down.
"What, I cannot simply pay a visit to my dear friend after my long absence?" she asked, her voice dripping with mockery.
The Count frowned and retrieved an unmarked bottle and two glasses from the shelf before joining her at the table. "Straightforward as always, I see," he observed with a dry look. The room was silent as he filled his glass with what could possibly pass for red wine under casual observation. "Would you care for a glass? It is a good…vintage," he assured her with a rare glint of humor in his eyes.
"No, I couldn't possibly. I…had a big breakfast," she replied with a dark smile. "And stop trying to be charming. I know you too well, dear Count, to swoon at your usual banter. Even if it has been years since I last suffered through it."
Fighting down a fresh scowl, Janus took a sip from his glass before he replied. "Your 'breakfast' was not at the expense of my citizens I should hope. For your sake."
"No, no, your precious people are safe," she waved him off with an air of disdain. "In fact, they are even safer now, no thanks to their fearless, bloodsucking leader." She grinned at the affronted man, but continued without pause, "Some highwaymen had made themselves at home in Bloodcrust Caverns, or hadn't you noticed? I guess the vampire rumors of that place finally faded off, hmm? Well, anyway, they have been…exterminated. They tasted better than rats at least, if only by a little."
"Ever the hero," the Count replied with narrowed eyes. "You will get no reward from me, other than my thanks, Demark."
"Your warmth never ceases to amaze me, my dear Count."
Ignoring the comment, he studied her warm, dark skin, her countenance completely human other than her wine-colored eyes. "How many were there?"
"Hmm? Oh, those scrawny highwaymen? At least a dozen. Just enough for a growing girl like me."
"Truly? What a feast it must have been."
Elowyn shrugged. "Should it worry me that I can't remember the last time I fed before yesterday morning? It just wasn't important, despite being vital. I'd forgotten that the people of this realm are so sensitive to our kind. Or perhaps I'd merely forgotten how monstrous prolonged starvation makes us. In their eyes, of course. It never bothered me much, and my people certainly never complained."
"'Your people'?" Janus eyed her, unable to hide his curiosity. "Where have you been all these years?"
"I…" the woman looked away and smiled at the table, her eyes distant and unfocused, "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you, my lord."
"Does that mean you will not tell me? Because I would be most interested to know where you were if vampires are so well tolerated there."
"Perhaps it'd be best if I said that there are certain benefits to being god of your own realm," the Redguard answered, her eyes intense as she gauged the Imperial's response. "The position affords me the privilege of looking as dastardly as I desire. Sometimes, the worse I looked, the better I fit in, really. You know, if you're looking for a summer home or a place to retire, the Asylums just might have room for you, my lord."
Count Hassildor's brow furrowed as he studied the woman opposite him with equal intensity. He could not tell if she was being serious and he was not sure if trying to find out more information was worth the trouble. Finally, he shook his head. "You are…"
"A madwoman?" Before he could even confirm whether that was his line of thought, Elowyn laughed merrily, the sound bright and pleasant and strangely chilling all at once. "Yes, my dear Count, I am. Perhaps that's the point, hmm? Or perhaps there is no point and never has been. Should I make one up?"
The Imperial's eyes narrowed and she wondered if he thought she was mocking him. "What do you want of me, Demark?" he asked with an edge of impatience. "Why are you here?"
"I need information," she explained, suddenly very intense and businesslike as she rested her elbows on the table and leaned closer to him. "I need to know what's been happening in my absence, what I've missed. I need to know…" her eyes darted away from his, "I need to know if people still know me."
The Count scrutinized her face, frowning to himself as he tried to puzzle out the woman and her erratic behavior. "It has been a decade since the last whispered rumors of you faded out," Janus eventually answered with a facial shrug. "You are presumed dead. It is unlikely that you will be recognized unless you openly identify yourself, though those who were closest to you will remember I am sure."
"Yes, well, too much to hope that they're all already dead, hmm?" she commented as she settled back into her seat, and again the Count could not tell if she was being serious. "What exactly did these little rumors say of me then?"
"Surely you already know that. You were spotted the day Adamus Phillida was murdered. Even without the other dozen-odd witnesses who connected you to other murders throughout Cyrodiil, his death was enough to forever link you to the Brotherhood. Many still refer to you as a fallen hero."
"I see."
Janus steepled his fingers beneath his chin and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Does it bother you?"
"Which part? The rumors? Of course not. Rumors are what make this world tick, my lord, and other worlds besides. I rather enjoy spreading them myself, though being involved in them in any way is pleasant enough I suppose. Oh, perhaps you meant the whole killing and murdering bit, hmm? You of all people should know the answer to that."
"Not all vampires are mindless butchers, gorging themselves like animals just for the sport of it."
"Tsk, tsk. I'm not like you, my lord," she answered with a cold smile that revealed her fangs to the dim candlelight, "and I am most certainly not like your late wife, either."
Dark anger flashed in the Count's red eyes, but he showed a deeper measure of calm than she had expected. "No, that much is perfectly obvious."
"But neither am I a beast, despite how I am viewed by you or anyone else. I take what I must. Such is the nature of life, all life, until death exercises its rights."
"If that is so, if you take only what you must, then why did you murder Vincente?"
Elowyn blinked, for once honestly surprised, and all mockery drained from her tone. "You knew him."
"Not a single vampire of worth escapes my attention if I can help it, and he was one of the eldest in this land," he answered coldly.
"I…I didn't want to kill him," she said very quietly, her eyes on the table once more. There was a long, heavy pause before she spoke again. "Any of them. But I wasn't offered a choice. 'Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis…'
"I think then, with their blood…his blood on my hands…I think that was the point when…perhaps I should be grateful for it, then, hmm? Yes, perhaps..."
Her ramblings faded off, and the Count could read nothing in the woman's stony stare as she gazed at the table. Studying her for a moment, he realized that she bore no signs of having traveled far. Her clothing was foreign, but very fine and clean, and her hair and nails were trimmed and tidy. She looked nothing like the adventurous, foolhardy girl he had met many years ago, and it ate away at him that she would not tell him the truth about her sudden departure and subsequent reappearance.
No sound touched the thick silence for several moments until Janus could no longer hold his tongue. "Elowyn," he probed softly, grateful that the Redguard finally looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with an eerie, detached calm, "what really happened to you? Where did you go?"
A sad, slow smile crossed her face, and she would have been lovely in the candlelight but for the sudden feral gleam in her crimson eyes. "Crazy," she whispered, "where I always belonged."
