A/N: I think I may have had a cuteness attack when I found out a female cat is called a 'molly' (queen just sounded too formal). Hope you enjoy! Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated!

Chapter 11: Laid to Rest – Almost

I had been pleasantly surprised when Marcurio had come down to the Midden with a book Urag had recommended to me, but had refused to let me take down to the Midden. It dealt more with – greatly – annotated history of the Blades than the Septims, but it also made some more direct mention of Al'Kardho, and alluded to a rather dramatic fall from grace after the Oblivion Crisis had ended, and how the Blades had tried to harbor this 'public enemy'.

Even Marcurio had become intrigued by the information we found in that book.

But Faralda had just left her research room, and her notes were ripe for the taking. I grinned at the Imperial as he stood with the book. "See you later," I smirked, stepping out with a thick book under my arm. Marcurio shut the door behind us. "Try not to slip on the ice. I'd hate to come back to clean up what's left of your pretty little head."
"Oh, so I've got a 'pretty little head'?" I quipped, letting myself into Faralda's room without waiting for an answer. If, for some reason, Faralda came back, Marcurio could keep her busy enough for me to get out.

This would be easy.

It wasn't sleeting or raining or snowing come twilight in Morthal, but it was still freezing – enough so that this one stopped to buy warmer clothes and thicker cloaks. I scowled against the cold of Skyrim, for the first time wishing for the warm sands of Elsweyr, but this Solän'cae had work to do: I had to find this Helgi before the other player in this game of hide-and-seek found her, whoever he or she was. Perhaps it was the killer?
Either way, this one will find out soon enough. The graveyard was close, and Solän'cae thought she saw a dug out grave.

But the coffin was too small for an adult. Far too small. Was this perhaps Helgi's coffin, and her grave?

I ran up the hill, just in time to see another – human – woman coming from the other side. She was dressed in black, pale, white like this Solän'cae, almost.

But she saw this one, and snarled. It was not a human snarl.

I summoned my Flame Atronach, drew my sword, and hissed.

And we charged, ready to fight, to kill!

The woman was fast, but fire was not her friend – she screamed and howled when my Atronach threw a fireball at her legs, where she fell to the ground. I charged, growl-screaming at her, driving my sword through her heart.

It was more difficult than I had imagined, but when the woman looked up, fierce and angry. She growl-snarled at this Solän'cae, and she had fangs. Long sharp, thin fangs, and her eyes glowed red in the now-night. "Vampire…?" I breathed, pulling my sword out of her body even as she shriveled and dried-died.

"You found me!" Helgi exclaimed, clapping her hands. I turned to the ghost-cub, wiping my sword on the black robes and sheathing it. My Atronach was hovering nearby, keeping me warm.
"It looks like I did find you, Helgi. Who was that? The other player in your game?"
The girl nodded. "Laelette was trying to find me too, but I'm glad you found me first! Laelette was told to burn Mommy and me, but she didn't want to! She really didn't want to burn us at all! She wanted to play with me forever and ever!" the ghost-cub looked ready to cry.
"She – Laelette wanted to play with you… forever? That is not possible, you know," this Solän'cae wonders: does this girl know the vampire, and that they are very real? This one never thought much of them, being so rare and almost impossible to find….
"Laelette thought so – she kissed me on the neck, and I got so cold that the fire didn't even hurt. Laelette thought she could take me and keep me, but she can't. I'm all burned up. There's no way we can play together forever now." She was quiet for a moment, almost thoughtful, then she yawned suddenly. "Anyway, I feel tired now, so I'm going to sleep. It was fun playing with you!"

And then the girl faded away. I wondered if the ghost-child-cub would ever be seen again here.

"Laelette?! LAELETTE!"

I turned to a man's voice, desperate to find this Laelette I had killed. He was a burly man under the torchlight. He pushed past me. "Laelette…!" he breathed, his face relaxing in relief. He fell to his knees next to the dried body of the woman Laelette. "She's dead! Ysmir's beard! She's… she's a vampire!" he shouted, jumping up again and away from her. Then he turned to me, hurt and shocked and angry, this Solän'cae supposes. "You… did you…?"
"She tried to kill me, so I killed her. What can you tell me about this woman? Her name is Laelette, yes?"
"Y-yes…. Laelette is – was – my wife…. I thought, I thought she left to join the Stormcloaks," the man turned to look at the dried husk of the woman, a snarl on her face and fangs clearly displayed. Her eyes were open, yes, but even so, the red no longer glowed as it did. "My poor Laelette!" he whispered, water-from-the-eyes running down his face.
"Did you notice anything strange with your wife before she left?"

This man started to shake his head, but then he stopped, eyes wide. "She began to spend a lot of time with… Alva. Yet just a week before, she despised her. There was not a moment Laelette would refuse the chance to voice her opinions of Alva, and suddenly they became friends. In fact, the night she disappeared, she was supposed to meet Alva. Alva told me later that she never showed up. I never got to tell her good bye…" the man started crying again. "My boy has to grow up without his mother – that isn't right!" he shouted, more to himself than to me, I think.
But if this woman disappeared when she was supposed to meet Alva, and then she disappeared. "They probably met that night, anyway. Everything ties back to this 'Alva' woman, of that this one is sure."
The man turned to me in pure shock. "You think Alva… but that means…. Ye gods! You think Alva is a vampire?"
"This one believes it is possible, and it makes the most sense, based on what this one knows about vampire."
This one was sure she had to kill this man, with the look of hate and disgust he gave me. I hissed back when he started shouting at me. "No! You're wrong. You must be wrong! Laelette may have met her fate out in the marsh. I refuse to believe Alva had anything to do with this! There is no way you can prove it to the Jarl!"

"Then you are the same as the dead girl, her mother, this Hroggar and now your wife," I snarled, turning and walking away. This Khajiiti would need proof that Alva was a vampire, and the Jarl would need to know about this as well. But she would know after this one got her hand-paws on real proof.

Where is a good thief when you really need one?

I broke into Alva's house in the few hours before dawn. This Khajiit was almost silent inside, going through the entrance hall, kitchen dining room, a bedroom where a large Nord man slept – this one supposed it was Hroggar – and finally, this one crept into the basement, all the way down, down the stairs. It was wet and musty inside, much like a cave. This one didn't like the feel of damp-wet-underground here in this basement – it made this one's fur stand on end, as if there was evil inside.

I was not too surprised to find a coffin inside the basement, a large stone coffin lined with velvet, and the finest of silks. This Khajiiti doubted that even the kings and queens of Skyrim, and the Emperors of Cyrodiil were buried in such luxuries. But I was surprised and suspicious that there was no-one here, and that a journal lay in the center of the coffin.

A brief reading told me it was Alva's, and that she was working for one called Movarth, and that they were planning on turning Morthal into a cattle-city for the vampires of Movarth's clan. It also detailed how Alva had seduced Hroggar, ordered the killing of Helgi and her mother, and the turning of Laelette.

This was the proof needed to convince the Jarl.

This Khajiit merely watched as Movarth snarled and glared at this Nord woman, Alva, as she tried to explain the mollycat investigating the plans this woman had made. They did not yet know this one was inside their lair. But they would soon.

"Movarth, I swear! I tried to keep everything together, to make sure attention wasn't drawn to us, but –"
"But you failed, Alva. And now, the citizens of Morthal, the city guard and this Khajiit girl will surely come here to kill us. Your carelessness is costing me precious time on this plan, Alva." Ah, this Al'Kardho has always liked the sound of an angry Dunmer – so quiet, so threatening…. This one could help himself no more, and he laughed, stepping out to where the vampires could see him.

"Who are you?" Movarth demanded, rising from his little throne in his little cave with his weak fledglings.
"This one is called Al'Kardho, from the Volkihar Clan. We have heard that you are experiencing… troubles… with the cattle here, and this one would offer you a way out. A salvation, of sorts." Time to see what this Cyrodiilic vampire will do, yes?
Movarth looked thoughtful, then suspicious, then he carefully smoothed his blue-grey face, his deep red eyes narrowing. "A member of the Volkihar is offering me and my clan –"
"No," this one shakes his head, stepping closer to the firelight. "Not your clan. Only you. Your clan is weak, only you have strength worth noting, power worth improving upon. Only say so, and this one can make sure that you will have no trouble from the mortals."
"And for what price? Loss of a city full of cattle, my clan, and my freedom?" Movarth growled, his face growing more like that of an animal, his fangs long and thin.

This Al'Kardho only smiles back, his own fangs longer, sharper, more dangerous; his eyes a darker red, a more powerful-danger-red. "This one will wait for your answer. But if the mortals get here before you answer me one way or the other, this one will assume you chose not to be saved," this one turns and stalks out, melting into the shadows as he says his farewells. "Perhaps they will be too frightened to act against such a rag-tag group as this."

There is one that made to attack, but this Al'Kardho is long gone from the hall by then. Now he must wait and see what will happen. He has no doubt that the mollycat will come here to kill the vampires. She is too much like this one was, before he was bitten by one with porphyric hemophilia.

Perhaps this Solän'cae should have accepted the help of some guards after all… it would have been easier to move through the cave and kill the vampires. But now is too late: I am already outside the cave, already prepared to go inside and kill this one called Movarth. There is no turning back, and this one will prove she is capable! Fire is this one's friend against the vampire, and this one has magic, a bow, and a sword. The Jarl gave me healing potions, magicka potions and a cure disease potion, so there is little worry for that. I can also see in the dark, as well as any vampire, and I have faith in my blade and my ability to kill. I can succeed.

The Dark Brotherhood waits for this one, after all!

The first five vampires were easy to kill, this one must confess. Were they perhaps new vampires, not yet aware of their power? The next three were more difficult, mostly because they were close together and the death of one led to the attack of another, and so on. This one must confess, the strength of the vampires is quite something. This Solän'cae would never have guessed that they could be so strong, or so difficult to kill in groups.

But the passage this Solän'cae now sneaks in has gone silent, the only sound that of water dripping from the ceiling. But there, far, is a light! Firelight, perhaps torch light, even. It is more than here where this one is, and that is where the last vampires must be. It is also where this one will be most vulnerable – shadows reach far in the fire, and metal reflects the light. I must be careful, and not alert the vampires before I am ready. A platform is built to give a vantage over the area ahead, and I opt for height. At least I will be able to kill one vampire before the others attack. Hopefully, only this 'Movarth' is left, because this one only has one healing potion left, the cure disease potion and two magicka potions. This one knows Restoration, but it is difficult to cast a healing spell while attacking.

And vampires are fast, as this one has discovered.

Staying close to the wall, this one had her bow in hand, and arrow nocked and ready to be drawn and fired. There was a Dunmer man sitting at the head of a table, covered in food and loot and other things vampires did not really need. Alva was pinned to the floor by two other vampires, and she was pleading for her life, begging to be forgiven for being so careless as to allow an outsider to see through the careful plans. I was curious, and so I kept watching.

The Dark Elf only glared at her, finally standing and walking over to her. He spat on her face, and this one couldn't help but snarl. It was not right, even if they are vampires. "Because of your carelessness, not only am I losing the city of Morthal, but one of the Volkihar vampires is here! Do you have any idea what that means, Alva?" he snarled, his face changing to something hard and uglier than before. This one could swear his eyes were a darker red. "No answer, hm? Let me explain, then: the Volkihar do not ever tolerate other vampires! Either you are one of them, made from their oldest, or you die by their hands! The only reason they are here is because you were not careful enough! I told you to find a protector for your coffin during the day, not to seduce away a MARRIED MAN AND CAUSE A SCENE!" he roared over the Nord woman, then lunged at her.

This one did not even see him move – I only saw when he knelt on her, tearing into her throat and Alva's screams…. And the blood. So much blood, everywhere….

It was exciting and terrifying. The other two vampires were focused on Movarth and the blood. Now was my chance to kill one, if not both of them! Then it was only Movarth…!

I drew, aimed, fired, killing one of the vampires. But these were faster, and one was already on her way to me. I drew another arrow and fired, but missed. I hissed, snarling and dropping my bow for my sword. I slashed at this she-vampire, yowling when she dodged and cast some Alteration spell. It made this one feel tired, and weak. I must act quickly! I growled, running towards this she-vampire, sword straight for her heart. She tried to knock my blade out of the way, but this one had momentum! I would pierce through!

I was going to win!

But a sudden hand ripped into my side, and I could hear the bones break as I slammed into the cave wall. My sword clattered to a side.

I couldn't see straight through the pain. I tried to cast a fire spell, but I couldn't think of how. I mewled, eyes shut tight against the pain in my ribs, and suddenly I was moving, flying.

I opened my eyes in time to see I was going to crash into the table, into the food and weapons and armor and candlesticks.

I screamed when my back slammed into the side of the table. It burned, like fire! I had underestimated the vampires here. Perhaps, if I could only drink this potion….

"None of that, now," Movarth mocked, crushing the potion bottles under his boot, and pulled me up by my neck, gripping tightly. I hissed and growled, scratching his hands.

It didn't seem to even irritate him. "How about we end this little heroic plan of yours, here and now, as all heroes eventually must die?" he laughed, pulling out a rusted iron dagger. I tried kicking, scratching, forcing him to bend his arm….

It was easier to hit a stone wall and make it move. "Don't struggle so much – you'll make me slip and kill you too painlessly!"
I gasped in air, sides burning and hurting, screeching and scratching and kicking as the knife came closer and closer, finally stabbing in somewhere between my ribs. I yowled, nails digging into Movarth's skin as he pulled the dagger out, stabbing it into my gut.

I screamed. Is this how I die?! Like this, like an unnamed dog in a forgotten hole?! No, no!

I had no strength to fight, the pain was all, that was all I had, all I knew.

Only pain. A sudden movement, and more pain. And something black, and screaming.

And pain, so much pain.

Pain, everywhere, everything. Pain, pain, pain, painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpain –

This Al'Kardho broke Movarth's neck, almost twisting it off. Where – there! This one was not supposed to get involved, but wait out this fight and clean up the rest, but this Khajiit, this white-leopard with the strength of will to fight these vampires alone…. I cannot allow her to die! She is too much like I was, too young to die.

And so here was this vampire-Khajiit, feeding this white-leopard cub his blood to try and heal her. She had made it this far through the cave to get to Movarth, she had managed to take most of his clan from him with cunning and skill, she could not die here, so young and full of life!

This one growled, low, deep. "Drink, cub!" It was more than a mere command: it was a vampire compulsion, something I hoped would reach through…. Her life was so faint, her heart so fluttery and erratic. Her blood was warm, smelling still of the sands of Elsweyr and the spices… surely, a taste would not – No! She cannot be prey; her heart is already beating more steadily. Let her heal, Al'Kardho, let her heal. I take away my cut wrist from her mouth, and stand to take the robes Movarth was wearing to tear into strips to tie around this young mollycat's wounds. There was not much left to do now, but wait.

Wait and see what would happen. More of this Al'Kardho's blood would kill her, or make her like him. Already, that chance was great. But he must stop some of the bleeding more than it has already stopped, or it will not matter how much of his blood she has.

Al'Kardho does not wish the unlife of a vampire for one so full of life. The path of a vampire is not easy, nor something to be wished on another. There is too much one loses when one dies-but-is-not-dead. It is painful to be as such. This one had forgotten that, having accepted my fate a long time ago.