Here be slash. Those of you of a squeamish disposition, pretend Caelan is a girl. C'mon, it's not that hard.


Chapter Seven

"How's your family?" asked Templer.

"The same. A bit more pompous, if that's possible. It's obvious they wish I'd come back from the academy, but there's nothing much for me here. At least not until I collect my inheritance. Did you see I got a gold ribbon of merit in archery?"

"How could I miss it?" said Templer.

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot that the family's put it in the Great Hall. Very ostentatiously. I suppose you can actually see it through the picture window. Silly, but I hope the peasants are impressed."


"Enjoying the book?"

He jumped a little at Vicente's silent and sudden approach, but gave a smile; "Yes, I've read through it twice now. I do love the ending, although you only really understand it when you go back a few pages."

"I'm glad you liked it," Vicente took the seat opposite him, and promptly held an apple of dark, glossy red, "Here. You've been reading all afternoon, you must be hungry. I noticed you prefer these over the green ones."

"Oh – well, thank you," it was odd, knowing Vicente was an assassin, a cold-blooded killer, when he was also so generous. More so over the last day or so, Caelan had noticed, although he couldn't think why; he assumed the Breton was simply fond of him. He took a bite of the apple, noting the lack of bitterness he'd come to know so well, "Not poisoned, hm?"

"You can tell a poisoned apple by the taste?" Vicente shook his head, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After enough of them you could probably tell the difference...but no-one else has survived eating more than one."

"They're sort of sour. But in a nice way, like lemon," Caelan took another bite, "Lucien has a whole barrel of them at his home. He wasn't best pleased when he found out I ate them all, though."

Vicente laughed, "He's not best pleased about a lot of things, I find."

"You're telling me. He's been irritable lately...I wonder why? Because he can't kill me, maybe?"

"Perhaps...ah, you finished that apple fast. Would you like another?"

"No no, I'm fine. Sithis, I'm not used to people giving me things! Normally I just have to take them."

"Actually..." Vicente paused, "I do have something to give you, after much consideration. You are aware of what I am, yes?"

"A Breton?"

"The other thing, I mean."

"Ah, that. I noticed – hard not to, no offence – but it didn't bother me," Caelan shrugged, "Necromancers raid crypts all the time. I've run into vampires before."

"Although I am no feral creature," he was reminded, "Like the tamer of our kind, I prefer bottled blood than drinking from my brothers and sisters."

"Ah...I noticed that too. I looked in your chest – but I didn't touch anything!" he added hastily when Vicente raised an eyebrow, "Curiosity will be the death of me...if only temporary."

"Which brings me to my original point," Vicente leaned forwards, lacing his fingers together and meeting Caelan's eyes, "Remember I told you there was one method of killing we hadn't tried yet?"

And then Caelan realised; "...Oh."

"I don't intend to...'drain you dry', as it were. I don't think that would work," the vampire told him, "I mean to pass along my dark gift, to make you as I am. It may not work, of course, but my theory is to trick the Staff into allowing a permanent death."

The mer bit his lip nervously, but said nothing. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Allow me to explain my reasoning," Vicente continued, "Lucien informed me that he used a slow-acting poison, and the Staff did not remove it – simply resurrected you upon your death. By extension, it should also permit disease, until it becomes fatal. Provided you do not die in the three days Porphyric Hemophilia requires to take hold, you will become a vampire."

"Doesn't Porwhatsit Hemothingy kill the person though? I'll just be brought back."

"It does kill, but it also instantly revives the person. In a death-like state, yes, but still able to function – and therefore, not dead," he informed Caelan, "And as you cannot resurrect that which is not dead, you will remain a vampire."

"Won't I still be unkillable, though?"

"Ah...perhaps," Vicente admitted, "It's my hope that, since you will be dead-but-not, the Staff will get...confused, so to speak, and won't work. If you do simply become an invincible vampire...well, there is a cure for vampirism, albeit a lengthy one," he paused, "I shall only try if you wish it, of course. If you need time to decide, the offer remains open. And should you decline...I will understand."

To his surprise, Caelan shook his head and said: "I don't need time. Out of everything that's been tried, this might actually work. So, I accept."

"Very well," Vicente murmured, "But not here, or now. Visit my quarters after everyone has gone to sleep, and we will begin."


When all those present in the sanctuary had retired for the night – or day, he couldn't really tell from underground – Caelan wordlessly slipped from his bed, and began the walk towards Vicente's quarters.

His bare feet were near-silent against the floor, cold air tickling his legs, as he'd forgone the heavy under-robes he usually wore. The thinner outer-robes were still belted at the waist, however, and he had his nightshirt on, so he was sure Vicente wouldn't find it indecent. Besides, being a three hundred year-old assassin, a semi-dressed elf would be unlikely to shock him, unlike the prim Imperials or conservative Altmer.

Finally reaching his destination, Caelan found the entrance left slightly ajar, as if to welcome him in. Probably intentional, he thought as he slipped into the room, giving a brief smile to its occupant before shutting the doors quietly behind him. He was immediately waved over to the solid stone block Vicente somehow willingly slept on, taking a seat beside the vampire.

"Don't be nervous," Vicente reassured him, noticing the mer fidgeting with his sleeve, "I'll explain how it works, so you know exactly what's going on," he waited for Caelan to nod before continuing, "Now, Porphyric Hemophilia, better known as vampirism, requires seventy-two hours to take effect. I imagine you'll sleep through most of that, and I'll instruct the others not to bother you."

"Okay. And, um, how do we...?"

"It's transferred through the blood; adventurers catch it mostly through cuts and scrapes while fighting feral vampires. Biting does nothing, despite what you may have been told. Actually, it can be...quite..." he gestured futilely.

"Quite...?" Caelan said, curious.

"Pleasurable," Vicente finished, "For the vampire, definitely. For the person...maybe. They're usually asleep, but if awake – and willing, of course – they can also enjoy it."

"But you don't bite?"

"No. I used to, before I joined the Dark Brotherhood, but now I have it bottled. It's less satisfying, but a more reliable source of sustenance."

"Oh," Caelan fidgeted a bit then, "Does mer blood taste any good? I mean, is it different to human blood, or is it all the same?"

"I don't know," Vicente answered nonchalantly, "I've never tried it."

Caelan shrugged; "I've never been bitten before. But you only live once – or – well – okay, multiple times in my case, but what I mean is-"

"You want to experience it," Vicente laughed, although kindly, "What a curious creature you are. Doesn't the thought of being fed upon bother you?"

"Hm...how to explain? I found a man mauled to death by a bear once. Collected the chunks of him I could find and sewed them together. Had to improvise a bit with sheep parts," the elf stated matter-of-factly, "Managed to animate him on the third try, My sewing's not so good, though, so he fell apart when I was making him dance," he grinned at Vicente's somewhat stunned expression – ah, so he could be shocked, "And you think vampires bother me?"

"Point taken," the Breton murmured, shaking his head – to get rid of the mental image, no doubt, "So...I have your full and utter consent, yes?" he took Caelan's baring of his neck to be an agreement, "Then I suppose I should indulge myself..."

Being an accomplished mage, Caelan knew when he was being charmed, and he felt the potency of Vicente's spell long before to began to take effect. Too strong to be regular magic, he noted, A vampire ability, or- oh my, he looks good in that candlelight. Pretty hair. Pretty eyes. Pretty paper-thin skin.

"Inquisitive little mer," he heard Vicente murmur against the tender skin of his throat, lips just brushing the surface, "One day, that curiosity of yours will get you into even more trouble than it already has."

And then, he bit. And Caelan dimly remembered thinking Hey, that hurts- ooooh... before all thought just about dissolved. He should've fallen ungracefully onto the stone slab by this point, but there was one arm hooked around his waist to keep him in place, while the other hand idly wandered over the rest of him. And then the cloth of his robes was being pushed back, and the open air hit his exposed thigh, but he really wasn't thinking about that because of the doesn't-feel-like-fangs euphoria at his neck.

"Sithis. I wish they were all this willing," he heard muttered, realising Vicente was no longer feeding on him, not wanting him to stop, at all, ever. He was still shuddering and writhing as he was carefully laid on the stone slab, one finger still stroking up and down his bare thigh to distract him from the cut-induced sting on the palm of his hand.

Fingers interlocked with his own. He grasped back weakly, not so numbed as to miss the icy sensation of Porphyric Hemophilia entering his bloodstream. Vicente must have cut his own palm as well.

"Mer blood tastes sweeter than human blood, by the way. Must be the concentration of magic. Too sweet to be a regular thing, but it might be nice on occasion."

"Mm," Caelan answered, too tired to make any other sound. Vicente was still caressing his thigh. He rather wanted him to move to the right, but he decided to save the issue for later, after sleep.


It was only after Caelan's breathing evened out that Vicente finally took his hands away, turning around and calling out with a smirk: "Enjoy the show, Speaker?"

Lifting his Illusion magic, Lucien stepped out from the corner of the room. Glaring, Vicente noticed with some amusement.

"That was completely unnecessary."

"My activities, or your invisibility spell?"

"Don't play games, Executioner."

"I'm not, Speaker," the vampire replied coolly, "Were you not the one who enlisted me to kill him? I was only doing as you requested."

"That was not killing."

"It was. A slow process, but a method of death regardless."

"You didn't need to feed on him."

"He suggested it, and gave his full consent, if you weren't paying attention during that part. So much for voyeurism."

"Enough of this," Lucien snapped, "He is a mark, not a conquest to be seduced and fed upon. I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour."

"I've done it before," Vicente answered softly, dangerously so, "Charmed, fed, killed. It is my preferred method of assassination, like Gogron's axe and Telaendril's arrows. You know this, and it does not bother you. But it does now, because-"

Lucien knew what he was going to say, and every fibre screamed stop him; "No-"

"-Because it's him," the Breton finished regardless, "Not because he's your mark, because you do not care about them. Because he's yours."

Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. "I don't know what you're talking about. I care nothing for him."

"Oh? I disagree."

"If I were anything but callous towards him, would I let Gogron chop him into firewood on a daily basis?"

Vicente laughed, though it lacked any genuine mirth, "You knew that wouldn't kill him. It meant nothing to Caelan, it means nothing to you. But this..." he gestured at the sleeping mer, "It meant something to him. It means something to you."

"If you wish to believe such nonsense, fine," Lucien growled, "But then why did you go against my wishes, if you feel he is so important to me? Why openly seduce him when you knew I was there?"

"To provoke a reaction like this one," the vampire slyly answered, "Why else would you follow him here, spy on him under the guise of invisibility? You're possessive, Speaker. You never did like to share."

"I despise him," the Imperial declared flatly, "He's the single most infuriating being I've ever met."

"You have a strange way of despising people, Lucien..."

"I feel nothing but- don't touch him," he warned as Vicente's hands brushed idly against Caelan's rhythmically-moving chest. When he received a smirk, he added, "I think you've put him through enough without bothering him in his sleep also."

"Whatever you say, Brother," Vicente murmured, the smirk still present, "Perhaps you should rest...maintaining that invisibility spell seems to have tired you."

"I'm sure the charm spell you cast had a similar effect."

"No no, I feel quite rejuvenated. I shan't need more than a nap," he glanced at the currently-occupied stone slab, "I suppose I can share..."

"I'll take him back to his bed," Lucien announced, walking over, "He'll find the stone uncomfortable. He always complained about sleeping on the floor of my home."

"Of course. Do mind his robes don't fall open, the belt appears to have come undone."

With an inaudible hiss that the vampire could hear anyway, Lucien lifted the Altmer much rougher than he needed to, and more or less stormed from the room.

Vicente chuckled lowly, savouring the last of the sugar-sweet blood on his lips.