Chapter Summary: After months of traveling together, Lana discovers Vestra is a necromancer.
A/N: A quick dip into the TES AU in my head. (Haven't decided which era this is set in yet)
"Lyssia, stop this!" Lana dodged another spell blast that sent reverberations through the vast stone chamber. "Can't you see the staff is corrupting you? Stop and think!"
Lyssia laughed, voice cracked and near-maniacal. Her hands clutched possessively at the obsidian Ayleid staff, the gem cradled in its clawed tip gleaming red. "I see your envy, Lana Beniko. It is plain as day – you want the staff for yourself!"
Before she could answer, Vestra darted forth, potent lightning crackling around her clenched fists. Her magic-bolstered speed was easily outmatched by a single wave of the staff, which sent her hurtling back, lightning spell scorching the ceiling above as she tumbled over the floor.
"End her, Lana!" Vestra barked, scrambling to her feet. "She's too far gone!"
Her hand fell to the dagger at her hip, in silent agreement. Exhausted from a protracted fight with Lyssia and her cursed Ayleid staff, Lana weighed her options. A magic-focused battle would mire them in a stalemate, and judging by the force of Lyssia's spells, they risked bringing this ancient Ayleid ruin down over their heads. An alternative was to end this by steel and blood. Lana had military training – an advantage over Lyssia, who'd spent most of her days in the Arcane University's libraries, sheltered from the elements.
It was a bitter necessity, but one Lana would commit regardless. Lyssia's death would be a loss to the University, but she posed a greater danger under the staff's influence.
Noticing her action, Lyssia's crimson-glowing eyes narrowed, and she shot another spell at Lana. The first was evaded cleanly, but the second came too fast. Lana channelled the last of her magicka into a barrier that collapsed quickly under brutal force, sending her stumbling backwards.
In her lapse, Lyssia swung the staff up, and slammed it down on the ground. The floor started to shake beneath their boots in the beginnings of a groundquake. But her victorious glare turned to confusion when fissures spread from her staff, cutting across the floor in chaotic webs – she'd underestimated the staff's power.
The floor crumbled, and Lana summoned one last, impossible sliver of magicka to protect herself from stray debris. The thin barrier shattered when her body landed on cold stone, the fall's impact driving all wind from her lungs. But she forced herself to her feet, casting a glance aside to see Vestra getting up, then turned onto Lyssia.
Her former colleague looked up at her approach – a dead sprint with a dagger clutched in her hand – and loosed a furious, blood-curdling shriek. The gem affixed to her staff shone a blinding blood-red, and Lana was again thrown back with massive force. This time, her back hit the wall, and she crumpled to the floor, head swimming from its impact against solid stone.
"Enough of this!"
Lana forced her head up, and found Vestra standing a distance before her, weaving a spell that wreathed her hands in ghostly blue flames. Lana suddenly found it difficult to breathe – as if all warmth had been sucked out of this…mausoleum?
For the first time since their fall, Lana examined their surroundings – large, beautifully carved sarcophagi lined the walls, at the head of each stood a statue of an Ayleid warrior. A place of eternal rest, for a race long gone from Tamriel – that was, until the heavy lid of one sarcophagus burst open in a shower of broken stone.
Lana watched, stunned, as every lid shattered in similar fashion, allowing the armoured skeleton within to climb out – posture straight as a warrior's in life, with elegant swords clutched in fingers of bone. Their hollow eye sockets flickered with the same ethereal fire that burned around Vestra's hands.
Vestra.
Lana turned her focus to Vestra, feeling a nexus of power radiating from her that Lana had never sensed before now. How had she hidden this bone-chilling strength for the months they'd known each other?
Vestra raised a hand forward, and her thralls fell upon Lyssia, who flailed her staff in panic. Spells whipped towards the undead warriors, who dodged them nimbly, and swung their blades at Lyssia in coordinated strikes. A basic attack formation, executed more fluidly than one would expect from skeletons, but it was enough to drive Lyssia into a corner.
Their foe was in panic, torn between flinging spells at the skeletal thralls or Vestra, and the indecision proved to be her downfall. Lyssia aimed a spell at Vestra – which missed – and jumped back to avoid two sword swings that struck the floor where she stood. In her distraction, she hadn't noticed one thrall at her flank, who thrust a greatsword through her back, its tip jutting from her stomach, dripping red.
Lyssia let loose a scream of pain, then a cry of despair when another blade knocked the staff from her grasp. Tears streaked down her cheeks, as the skeletal squad raised their swords in unison…then lowered them, and stood back with skulls bowed.
Vestra strode past her ghoulish thralls to stand before Lyssia – who'd started to shake visibly. Vestra waved a hand, and the thrall plucked the killing blade from Lyssia's body. Robbed of the only support holding her up, Lyssia fell forward into Vestra's waiting arms, which lifted her with ease.
Lana could hear her weak, trembling sobs as Vestra carried her over, and forced herself to her knees. She waited as Vestra set Lyssia on the floor, and Lana took her colleague's body in her arms.
"Lana," Lyssia rasped, her deep blue eyes free of the staff's possessive red taint. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Hush now. Save your strength." Lana clasped the hand that reached up to her.
"The staff. Destroy it. Promise me. Please."
"I will see it destroyed. I swear."
Lyssia took another ragged breath, then her hand grew limp in Lana's hold, as the last breath left her lips.
"May you find peace in Aetherius." Lana closed her blank eyes and set her body gently on the floor, placing her hands over her stomach.
Lana took a breath and exhaled, fighting against the weakness threatening to set into her muscles. There was no time to rest. They still had to bring Lyssia's body to the University, and deliver a report on what had happened. And they had to decide what to do with the staff…
The staff.
Lana looked up, heart growing cold when she found Vestra standing amid a circle of collapsed bones, armours, and blades – with the Ayleid staff in her hands.
Pushing herself to her feet, Lana trudged over to Vestra, who paid her no mind, fingers gliding over the obsidian staff's silver engravings in quiet appraisal.
"Vestra," Lana said tentatively, a touch of caution in her voice after witnessing Vestra's display of…unconventional power. "I don't think it's a good idea to hold that for long."
"It's not so bad, if your will is great enough," Vestra replied lightly. Her fingers closed over the staff's grip, and she turned to face Lana – eyes empty of the warmth Lana had grown accustomed to.
"Now…" She pointed the staff at Lana, who found herself unable to move. Ghostly blue chains had risen from the floor and wrapped around her wrists and ankles, locking her down. "What do I do with you?"
Vestra's voice had taken on a low purr, with a frigid undertone that sent a chill down Lana's spine.
"You have seen what I can do. I can hardly let you go now, can I?"
"And…what is the alternative?" Lana closed her hands into fists, subtly testing her strength against the chains. No matter how hard she pulled, they would not budge.
"I could wipe your memories of me." Vestra started to pace, still cradling the staff in her hands, speaking casually as if they were merely chatting in the Imperial City's gardens. "Or I could take your tongue and your ability to write, so you cannot give me away." She met Lana's eyes, head cocked, lips curving into a cruel smile. "Or…I could just kill you right here."
"You won't kill me," Lana declared, steadier than she felt.
"Oh?"
"Not after the trouble you went through to save me."
"My life was at stake too, my dear."
"You could've run and left me to die. But you didn't."
"But I didn't. Perhaps it was a mistake on my part." In Lana's silence, Vestra slowed to a stop before her. "I'm curious. What do you think of necromancy?"
"It is a school of magic."
"Just that? Not an art of the evil sorcerer, bending the dead to their wicked will?"
"A common perception – justified by history. But anything can be a weapon of evil if used to such ends."
"How incredibly logical of you."
"A trait I pride myself on," Lana replied drily.
"An admirable trait, to be sure. But you forget – you do not know my history." Vestra's voice lilted, as if drawing pleasure from planting uncertainty in her mind. "For all you know, I have murdered countless to enslave them to my will. For all you know…"
Vestra stepped close, so that Lana could glimpse the blue glow from her chains reflected in soft brown irises. "I could be a lich," she whispered, so low it could be a hiss.
Lana stared deep into her dark, unfathomable eyes, heart racing from the possibility Vestra proposed, and the proximity of their lips, breaths mingling in the cold, stone-dusted air. "Then you make a beautiful lich."
Vestra threw her head back in a laugh. "I can't tell if this is a last-ditch attempt to save your life, or you just don't believe me."
"I don't believe you," Lana said flatly. "I have seen no evidence to prove your claim. Besides, I have felt you with my hands. You feel as warm and alive as any other."
"Illusions can be powerful."
"I know what I feel. And I sense no illusions."
"Do you now," Vestra whispered. She closed the distance, lips brushing tantalisingly over Lana's, and met her in a kiss.
It was natural now, after months of travelling together and tender courtship. Lana pressed back against soft, warm lips, and found only more evidence that Vestra was as alive as her own beating heart.
When they parted, she found a smile on Vestra's lips – one she was used to seeing, bathed in the radiant rays of the sun, illuminated by the gentle light of the moon, half-hidden in shadow under a flickering candle's flame.
With a lazy flick of the wrist, Vestra dissipated the chains holding Lana still. "You are so difficult to rattle, it's annoying."
"Good." Lana sighed, worrying at her gloved wrists where the chains' icy chill had penetrated to her flesh. But she was soon distracted by a hand cupping her cheek, drawing her gaze up.
"Are you hurt?"
"Nothing a poultice won't fix." Lana glanced back at Lyssia's body. "We have to bring her back to the University. And the staff…"
"We'll take it back as well. I'll carry it." She caught Lana's doubtful gaze. "I can handle it. Unless you know a way to destroy an ancient Ayleid artifact right here?"
"No, I don't," Lana admitted, eyeing the staff. "May I?"
Vestra handed it to her wordlessly. The moment her hands closed over the staff, whispers slithered into her skull – soft, malicious, constant. Whispers of power, of grandeur, of betrayals, of despair. In the few seconds she'd held it, Lana already wished to fling it far from herself. She was loath to hold it for as long as Lyssia did, or even the few minutes as Vestra had.
Her companion reached a hand out, and Lana guessed her discomfort was visible. "Shall I?"
Lana relinquished the staff gladly, watching Vestra twirl it once, then fix it on the leather sheath over her back, below her own staff. She marvelled quietly at the apparent lack of effort – was it merely a facade? Or a strength gained from her secret prowess?
"Shall we?" Vestra gestured towards the arched doorway, and Lyssia's body that lay a distance before it.
Vestra was vain and prideful – that much was clear to Lana. Perhaps that was the reason for her unflappable, nonchalant mien; weakness was not something she displayed easily. No matter the source of her confidence, Lana took comfort in it now – she had never felt quite so safe, travelling with Vestra. Master of the undead, as she might be.
"Yes." Lana finally found it in herself to smile wanly. "We shall."
A/N: This is intended as a one-shot, so I'll mark it as completed for now. But I have more ideas (mainly for the SI crew in Tamriel) and may add onto this whenever. Subscribe if you're interested!
Update for 'In Life, Avowed' will come next week.