Fangs bared in a hiss, electricity fired to life in Serana's palm and she hit the draugr with all the energy that buzzed from her hand to her shoulder. The force knocked the wretched monster a safe distance away, and she rushed to the khajiit. The smell of blood nearly overwhelmed her and her fangs protruded from her lips, licking them without thought.

"Ja'kal?" Serana ripped open what was left of his robes to expose his chest, and rested a tentative hand over the gaping wound lacerating from his shoulder to his sternum. She checked his forearms, where one had been sliced open from the end of the draugr's swing. Ja'kal was lucky he hadn't lost his hand outright.

But that meant nothing if he lost his life.

"Stay with me," she urged, kneeling lower until her ear was near his mouth. Weak breaths hit her cheek, and adrenaline flooded her when she sprang into action, feeding her muscles with the strength she needed to cradle and carry the khajiit. "Just... Stay with me, you're going to be alright." She shook him in her arms to try and rouse a reaction, but he was out cold. His scent changed from something that planted images of savannas and canyons in her head, to caves and graveyards. That was a terrifying sign.

How was she going to introduce him to the court now? She wanted to say he was her savior, in hopes it would appeal to father's honor and help Ja'kal leave untouched. Now she was saving her savior; Ja'kal had no chance of leaving Volkihar castle without becoming a vampire or thrall.

Every step taken, Serana cursed at herself. She just wanted to explore the broken tower, to climb to the top and soak in the view. If only she never left; but if there was one thing she learned, it was that regret was pointless. She was here and now. Serana raced across the bridge, panicking when she finally realized that heat left the khajiit's body.

"Lady Serana is back, open the gate!" A voice from the far end yelled in a mix of eagerness and surprise.

Right. She was home again, and common sense chiseled it's way into her thoughts again. She was bringing a vulnerable mortal who was bleeding profusely into a den of vampires. Serana gently laid Ja'kal down, charging frosty mist to her fingertips. She had to slow and stop the bleeding without icing his skin, or it would just die and render the wound larger. If only she knew restoration magic.

Would anyone in the castle know it? The art would likely be seen as an insult to vampires. Composure began to unravel as every dismaying thought crossed her mind, whittling her options down to nothing. She couldn't help Ja'kal, and if she couldn't, who would?

"Lady Serana? Is that truly you?"

That voice! Serana looked up, and hope filled her. "Garan! Please, help him. A draugr attacked him and..." And why was he looking at her like she spoke another language?

Vingalmo lurked behind Garan, then twisted to shout over his shoulder. "Everyone, come! Serana has returned!"

Serana gritted her teeth when she saw the bloodlust flicker over the elves' eyes, and protectively cradled Ja'kal against her as she rose. "My friend needs help, is there anyone in the castle who knows healing magic?"

Garan stared, lost in a stupor. His gaze was riveted to the icy frost that slowly stained red. He snapped out of it when Serana cleared her throat. "No, my Lady."

"Is he your pet, Lady Serana?" Vingalmo asked, mildly amused. He had not bothered to hide his bloodlust as he stepped closer, ignoring the warning look in Serana's eyes as he licked his lips. "I've not tried khajiit before. Your taste has certainly elevated to the exotic." His gaze lifted, peering at her with hooded eyes. "If you want to save him from bleeding out and from all of us tearing into him, then I suggest you turn him."

The words knocked the air out of her chest, and dizziness nearly swept her off her feet. Garan reacted quickly and rested a steady head on her shoulder. She shook her head. "No. I'm not... I can't." She looked down at Ja'kal, features twisted in pain. He was going to die if she didn't do anything, but she couldn't bear the thought of turning him without his permission. There had to be another way.

Garan was the only one trusted enough for his hands to come anywhere near the khajiit. The dunmer ran a hand along the ice lacing the tips of fur, curling his nose when fresh blood matted the hair and weighed it down, it's warmth melting and breaking the thin ice. He looked over his shoulder as other curious members of the court lingered at the gateway, and Serana dreaded the moment her father would show. Garan retracted his hands and spun on his heels with poise, leading through the salivating crowd. "Come, Lady Serana, perhaps Feran will have the ingredients to mix something that will help your friend."

"Feran? Who's that?"

"Our apothecary. He joined us... Roughly a century ago, now, so you wouldn't have met him. Come this way, while Lord Harkon is still in his chambers."

Serana adjusted the khajiit in her arms, her strength waning. She didn't dare let go of him with this many hungry eyes set on his wounds. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she caught murmurs, many of them talking about Ja'kal as if he's food... Or her pet. She greatly appreciated Garan keeping his thoughts to himself, simply ready to help her no matter her motive.

Memories slammed her as she entered the castle. The dim lighting set an eerie mood, the stink of death and blood overpowering; it called to the dark hunger gnawing away inside of her. She would have been a liar if she said her instincts didn't whisper and entertain the idea of feeding on the khajiit herself.

"Feran! Come here for a moment, your prompt assistance is required!" Garan's deep voice commanded, his cutting gaze shutting down an approaching wood elf. Serana didn't recognize him either, and that meant she didn't trust him. She called on the last bouts of strength left in her arms as she hugged Ja'kal closer to her, not caring that his blood got on her clothes. She watched as another dunmer roamed on the second level, looking over the railing at them. His eyes widened when it met hers.

"Lady Serana?" He asked in disbelief, and she nodded awkwardly. How many people committed the image of her to memory, and how? "One moment, I'll be down there soon. Ronthil, wake up, fool! See to their needs!"

"A-at once," the wood elf stuttered nervously, and tripped over his feet when he tried to rush over. Serana was beginning to grow agitated the more time was wasted. It was all a blur, spinning, and she felt like she was caught in a haze of reality and imagination. There was something surreal about all of this, and that feeling intensified whenever she glanced down at the bloodstained ice coating the khajiit's chest. The wood elf interrupted her thoughts. "How may I serve?"

Garan stared at her, seemingly awaiting commands as well. She hated this aspect of royalty. She didn't need yes-men or boot-lickers or pawns. The dunmer took it upon himself to order in her stead. "Clear the carcass from the table, Ronthil, and cover it with the cleanest cloth or blanket that we have. We are going to help..." His eyes roved over Ja'kal, then up at Serana. A measure of understanding passed between them. "Lady Serana's pet."

It was the only way to ensure immunity, she knew. It didn't make her not hate it any less.

Ronthil did as he was asked, and Serana grunted in relief when she imparted the weight from wearying arms. With Garan's help, Ja'kal was lowered to the table without antagonizing his wounds, and Feran took his sweet time climbing down the stairs. He clasped his wrists behind him as he approached to regard Ja'kal with a mix of curiosity and hunger, as all the other vampires. "A khajiit? I've yet to work with such a specimen. And he's still alive! Even better. Ronthil, fetch my dissection kit."

"You aren't dissecting him. Lady Serana wishes for you to aid him." Garan stated firmly, and Serana remained quiet. She crossed her arms and steamed in silence, glaring at Feran when the dunmer looked up at her with an offended look. She dared him to question her. He backed down, but was audacious enough not to care for hiding his displeasure and irritation.

"Very well," he sighed, "I will do what I can, but no promises."

"You will do everything you can, and you will promise that." Serana pressed confidently, but cared not to overdo or overstep. She had only just returned. Exercising whatever authority she may have had would only make her appear tyrannical and insolent; it would only make them plot against her later, and potentially Ja'kal in order to get back at her.

Ja'kal. What was the next step when he was better? She needed to know, needed to prepare, needed him to get out of here just as safely as he got in.

Feran collected some ingredients from the shelves, dumping them in Ronthil's arms. "Carry these to my mixing station." He looked at Serana, a subdued smirk tugging the corner of his lips. "I promise I will do everything I can to save your pet, my Lady. Now, unless your ladyship is not keen on getting her hands dirty like Lord Harkon, then you should apply pressure to the wound to slow it from bleeding."

"Remember your place. You'll address Lady Serana and Lord Harkon with respect," Garan warned, but the other dunmer grunted and went to his alchemy station.

Serana didn't care as long as Ja'kal got the treatment he needed. She dispersed the flakes of ice sticking to his fur and chilled her hands, leaning over the table and stacking her hands to apply pressure over the wound. At least it did not seem deep or immediately life-threatening, but she worried he'd already lost so much blood and was now on the path of a slow death, organs shutting down one by one.

Small bowls aligned on the table, and Feran handed one to Serana. "Here, this is all I have for now. They're salves to help your pet heal on it's own, but faster."

"How long will that take?"

"Days, perhaps, and that is if whatever attacked him was not harboring disease. I've not cared to study khajiit before, so it could very well not work with his physiology. His fur could react with it instead of his skin, or his system may metabolize it differently and render it useless. He may very well have to be turned to stay alive."

"That's not an option."

Feran shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"And this is all you can do?" Serana started to lose hope, staring at the salve. She lathered it on Ja'kal's chest and waited as patiently as she could, ignoring the noise of the crowd growing behind her. Dread gripped her in an an instant and Serana froze when a patronizing voice filled the castle.

"My dear long lost daughter..."

x - x - x

Pain roused Ja'kal awake and it flared when he gasped, his chest tight and heavy as if something sat on him. He had to reach up with his hand to figure out which way he faced, catching air. He was on his back. Sharp aches throbbed on the right side of his neck and he slapped his hand over it, feeling wet fur. The stench drowning the air made him gag and nauseous.

"Ja'kal?" Soft, familiar. Serana. "Hey, take it easy. You're okay, you're safe." That was hard to believe. "Just breathe."

"This one does not like this place," he grunted, "it smells of death. Did Ja'kal die?"

"No, but you almost did several times. Cat's nine lives at work, I guess." There was a slight chuckle buried deep in her voice, and an overwhelming sense of relief. Something small hooked on his good shoulder and gently pushed him down. "You need to rest. Lay down, I'm combing the blood out of your fur."

That was a horrible blow to his pride. Ja'kal frowned and clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Khajiit cannot be combed. Ja'kal is no house cat." Now he knew how the Alfiq suffered so because of their form, mistreated and humiliated even among fellow khajiiti.

"Well, this khajiit is," Serana's voice slowly gained more strength and levity. "Play nice or I'll brush you instead. It's just to get the dry blood out; it's matting your fur."

Grumbles vibrated deep in his chest, and he forced it to stay that way when every comb wanted to make purrs rumble instead. His skin would tense and quiver when the comb would stroke a patch of fur out of the way, and little fingers plucked or scratched the flakes of blood off. It was relaxing. He still didn't like the smell though; he couldn't pick up Serana's scent within it and tried to angle his nose down as inconspicuously as possible. It didn't work.

"What are you doing?" There was amusement in her tone, and he liked the way it would make her words dance off her tongue. This wasn't just a human that was kind to him, but saw past his barrier and treated him as Ja'kal the fierce khajiit, and not Ja'kal the blind cat.

A purr rumbled out. Very fierce.

"Trying to smell you," he quickly said in hopes to cover up the purr. For once in his life, he was tormented by the fact that he couldn't see, rather than accepting it; he couldn't see if she heard his purr and played along with him or not, but there was another urgent problem. Whatever inhabited his nose on the inside was dying from this smell. "This one really does not like the stench of death. It is not comforting or taking Ja'kal to a happy place."

"I'd be worried if it did," Serana hummed her tease, still giving no other indication if she heard his fierceness a moment ago.

"Serana takes Ja'kal to a happy place."

There was a pause, and the comb stopped. He held his breath to listen to hers. Had he upset her somehow? It was hard to open her up when she was so closed off; it didn't make sense to him. Emotions were meant to be felt, not stowed away. His fur stood at attention when a nail gently scraped more flakes of blood away, and his skin quivered for a good reason instead. He smiled when Serana's words danced once more.

"Ja'kal takes Serana to a happy place." There was another pause, and then Serana laughed. "It sounds so strange, talking like that. I don't know how you do it."

"Just as it is strange for me when I talk like this, and I do not know how you do it." His whiskers scrunched, confused by the forced changes in his speech. He relaxed and fell quiet as the nimble fingers worked, leaving not a strand of fur left untouched. "Tonsh jer," he mumbled, and Serana stopped for a moment. "It means thank you. Tonsh jer zira na. Thank you very much."

"Oh. Well... You're very welcome."

That brought the warmth of the sands into Ja'kal's chest, and his smile grew. "You are kind. You did not have to help this one, and you did. Ja'kal will not forget this."

There was something thoughtless in the way Serana's hands moved, and the fingers lost passion as they became mechanical, cleaning his fur like it was routine. It wasn't hard to silence the purrs because he felt no need to purr at all anymore, and he missed the tingles that made his skin quiver for good reasons. The words no longer danced off Serana's tongue.

"I'm glad you're alive... But I'm worried about the cost."

"Serana is thinking this one must pay off the debt, yes?"

"I think it's already been paid." The heaviness and exhaustion in her voice did much to unnerve the khajiit; her question even more so. "What do you want to eat?"

Ja'kal had to think about it for once, and he was confused by his answer.

"Fish blood."

x - x - x

Author's Note

Thanks everyone for following this story. I do highly recommend it, not just for 'stats', but because if a story is updated under the 24 hour counter then fanfiction does not reset the story to show it's been updated; like yesterday, I published chapter 2 and 3 within hours of each other but the update counter did not show that another chapter was published. If you're a guest without an account then I suggest bookmarking the last chapter you've read so that you can make sure you haven't missed any new ones, just in case if I publish more under the 24 hour clock.

Translation

Tonsh jer - thank you

Tonsh jer zira na - thank you very much