A/N

Hey, so funny story! I'm currently in self-imposed isolation because I was exposed to someone with Covid! I tested negative, and the person who I was exposed to is thankfully asymptomatic and doing well, but I still need to wait two weeks to see if any symptoms manifest.

As such, I now have a lot of free time on my hands. Between studying for exams and writing chapters of my already ongoing stories, I have been playing a metric fuck-ton of Skyrim; with 60,000 different computer-straining big booby/jiggle physics mods, of course.

(That last part was a joke).

My most recent playthrough has involved me playing a scholarly mage character. And while stumbling around in a draugr crypt this story idea popped into my head.

This is firmly a oneshot, and honestly more of a character piece than anything else. I do not foresee any continuation.

Bookworm...

To any ordinary mortal, the squiggly characters and shapes etched into the pages of the moldy book would be meaningless. But Byron was no ordinary mortal; the meaning behind the written language of the dragon's came easily to him.

The Breton thought back to the first time he had gazed upon one of the ancient word walls. It had been in the ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow - the crumbling pile of stone which loomed over the idyllic little village of Riverwood. Byron's first experience with the barrow's word wall had been mystical... almost trance-like. The Breton was not exactly sure how long his gaze had been stuck on the wall's dusty surface - probably for hours.

Reading the dragon script for the first time… the experience was nigh indescribable. The closest description that fit was a burning sensation… as if the script was being printed on the insides of one's eyes.

But it wasn't painful either… just intense…

Finishing the page he was on, Byron licked the tips of his fingers and settled them on the corners of the moldy paper. He was holding the ancient tome up in his left hand - which left his right hand in charge of flipping the pages.

There was a soggy wilting noise as the crumbly paper beneath Byron's fingers was flipped; revealing the contents of the next page.

It was the little pauses in life that mattered…

Be it a walk in the morning sunlight, going for a swim, or in this case - taking the opportunity to just sit down and read; the last of which happened to be Byron's favorite pastime.

The ancient draugr crypt Byron found himself in was suitably quiet for this endeavor. Whatever few noise disturbances there were consisted of the rush of wind from drafts, the patter of water, or the noise of Byron's sole companion rummaging around for loot…

"You know… I would appreciate a little bit of help…" Byron's companion muttered aloud, their voice reverberating around in the crypt's spacious interior.

The young Breton man did not hear a word of this. Instead, he kept his nose firmly buried in the ancient tome. The jagged shapes of the dragon tongue continued to burn the insides of the man's eyes; and he was keen to absorb as much of it as he could. Regrettably, most of the text had been damaged beyond any point of comprehension; however, the overall meaning of the text could still be gleamed…

"Did you hear me?" Byron's companion called out again - their voice sounding slightly more irate. "This would go far faster if the two of us were doing it, y'know… together?"

Once again, the voice of Byron's companion was filtered out. The Breton narrowed his eyes in concentration on a part of the page that was still legible. He glared intently at the letters, keen to understand what their hidden meaning was-

A single pale finger suddenly impeded Byron's vision. The digit had been placed between the pages and had been settled into the central spine.

Instinctively and without thinking, Byron pulled the book towards him. Reactively, Byron's partner kept their finger exactly where it was.

There was a wet tearing noise as the fragile paper and dilapidated leather of the book was torn asunder by the opposing forces. Byron suddenly found himself holding the two sheared halves of the book he had been holding; the face of his traveling companion now filling the void.

Byron released a long sigh as he stared into the face of his companion.

"I was reading that…"

Byron's companion gave the Breton a look of amusement. They reached forwards and plucked the halves out of Byron's hands, letting them flutter unceremoniously to the floor.

"I know…" They replied in voice that sounded far too saccharine. "That's why I did it…"

Byron sighed and shifted in the rickety old chair he had pulled out for himself. The Breton bent down at the waist and retrieved one of the book halves. He held the mass of soggy papers in his right hand; he then ignited a controlled flame spell in his left - his intentions being to dry the papers out.

"Perhaps we can chalk it up to you being immortal and timeless… but you have such little appreciation for history…" Byron grumbled as he continued to dry the papers.

"Perhaps," Serana muttered in response. The vampire woman was looking down on Byron, her glowing eyes filled with a mocking amusement. Her wispy black hair fell like curtains on either side of her face, which only made her eyes stand out more. "What was it about?"

"Hmm?" Byron peered upwards into the face of his companion. "The book? Why, as far as I can tell it was a report on-"

"Boring!" Serana simultaneously snapped her fingers and made a tsk noise with her tongue. The vampire slowly traipsed away; purposefully nudging the book's other half with the toe of her boot as she did. "But you know what's really interesting? Helping me pick the jewelry off of these draugr…"

"We have plenty of time for that," Byron complained.

"By that logic, you have plenty of time to read…" Serena crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder. "Later! Perhaps back in Winterhold in those fancy Arch Mage Quarters?"

"No…" Byron muttered. "These works are fragile… which you have already demonstrated…"

Serena huffed. Despite having her back turned to him, Byron could vividly imagine the woman's eyes rolling in response to his statement. With another huff, the vampiric woman knelt down to resume her scavenging.

"It still shocks me that you can read it…" Serena gestured to the crypt walls with her hand - the surfaces of which had been decorated with carved dragon script. "It just looks meaningless to me…"

"On the contrary, it's an incredible language," Byron breathed. "But also quite difficult to explain-"

"Oh… forgive me for thinking that my intellect is even remotely comparable to yours…" Serena loudly mocked. "Allow me to continue rummaging through this refuse… such is my lot in life…"

"Hush, you," Byron huffed in return, his eyes flicking up in annoyance. "Perhaps you should try letting me finish? Dragon tongue is difficult to understand and explain. I do not know how to read it at all…"

"Really?"

"No…" Byron's voice lowered. His bright brown eyes seemed to glaze over as he spiraled into his thought processes. "I simply absorb it. I understand what the meaning is… but I cannot even begin to fathom the fundamental properties of the language's structure."

"How interesting…" Serana's voice oozed with sarcasm.

"Why, I had a far easier time learning the Argonian language," Byron rambled on. "And Jel is already incredibly difficult for a non-native speaker to learn. Many of the necessary sounds cannot be replicated by our tongues… that's not even mentioning the language's complete lack of tense…"

"Please, continue to bore me…" Serana sighed, There was a rummaging noise as she pulled a somewhat decent looking ceremonial axe out of the stiff grip of a draugr.

Byron grumbled in annoyance. The young Breton man looked back down to the half of the book he was drying; only to realize that he had burned it in his negligence. Crinkling his nose in disgust, Breton sighed and tossed the charred cluster of pages to the floor.

The Breton carefully stood up from his rickety chair - ignoring the now-useless other half of the ancient tome.

"Coming to help?" Serana muttered as she pocketed a gold pendant. "There's plenty of septims to be found in this place…"

"When did you become so greedy?" Byron raised an eyebrow.

"I need to eat, Byron."

"No you don't… you drink blood to sustain yourself…"

"So? I can't enjoy some meat and mead every now and again?" Serena narrowed her glowing orange eyes in annoyance. "I need something to wash the taste of blood out…"

"What?"

"Everyone tastes a little different," Serana elaborated, a thoughtful looking crossing the woman's features. "Not everyone tastes good. For example, that bandit on the way here-"

"We still have plenty of blood potions… you didn't have to do it…" Byron deadpanned.

"He was a bandit, I did Tamriel a favour…" Serana sniffed. "Besides, you've been donating plenty of your own blood to make those potions. Why not let someone else pitch in for once?"

"I donate willingly…"

"Bah! You forget who you're speaking too…"

The vampire woman stood up to her full height, which was a few inches shorter than Byron's. Despite her rather slender body, Serana's vampiric powers imbued her with unnatural strength. She had once shown off her prowess by lifting Arch Curate Vyrthur up by the collar of his armor. Another example had been just six hours ago, when she had lifted up a fully grown orc to drain him while he was still alive.

Byron resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

"Are you done?" Byron drawled.

"Done what?"

"You-"

"Oh! You mean to ask if I'm done picking through the smelly pile of centuries old mummies?" Serana mocked. The woman effortlessly hoisted her bulging travel bag off of her shoulder and opened it to reveal it's shiny contents. "Why yes, I am! No thanks to you…"

"I-"

"The great Dragonborn; who would rather read dusty old tomes and daydream than help-"

"Yes, I quite understand-"

Serana wordlessly shoved her filled travel bag into Byron's unprepared arms. The vampire woman then crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back on one foot.

"Here… you can carry it all out," Serana smirked. "Fair?"

Byron's nose twitched in annoyance but he complied. The Breton man slung the heavy pack over his shoulder, feeling his bones strain under the weight. He used his free hand to clear his feathery red hair away from his brown eyes.

"Take some advice from the immortal vampire," Serana drawled, a smirk still plastered on her delicate features. "Try to live in the moment…"