Svala couldn't believe she had kissed him.
There was a lot about their current interaction that she couldn't believe- Ulfric's words about her, for one. "You are the bravest person I've ever met." He must've been lying, he couldn't have been telling her the truth...could he? Every time she heard his words reverberate in her head her body filled with a peculiar sense of warmth. She wanted him to keep kissing her, his large hands roaming her body, she wanted his lips everywhere...no. She had stopped him for a reason. She had already made this mistake with Brynjolf- her future was too uncertain, too dangerous for her ensnare someone else into it. She had done enough damage by telling Ulfric all that she had about her past, about the Guild, even about the damn Thalmor. Why she had become so reckless around Ulfric, she'd never know, but she would be damned if she'd let him pay for her mistakes. She had taken an oath to give her life for his if necessary and she would honor it if it came to that.
With a groan of frustration, she turned her attention back to following the blood trail. Some of the snow on the streets had melted, and she was able to scent the particular metallic tang of old blood. Luckily, this new discovery continued the blood trail, and she was able to follow it to an abandoned house near the palace.
Checking to see if any guards were watching she started to pick the lock. It took her a few tries, she was rather rusty, but on the third attempt the lock clicked and the door creaked open. Sneaking inside, she was bombarded with a heavy stench of blood that nearly made her retch. She conjured some candlelight, and then gasped in horror as she her eyes adjusted to the dim light, allowing her to see the carnage within.
There was patches of brown blood everywhere staining the walls and the floorboards. While cobwebs decorated the corners of the room, it was clear that someone had been inside recently. A bloodied chest had hastily been shoved against the wall, she could tell by the scratch marks on the floor, but other than that Svala was hard pressed to see any other furniture. She carefully opened the chest, careful to avoid any traps if there were any (still, she knew it couldn't hurt to be overly cautious), and found clumps of Viola's Beware the Butcher flyers stashed inside. There were also two red journals which immediately caught her attention, and once she had closed the lid of the trunk she sat upon it and began to flip through them.
The plans are coming together swimmingly. I've found good sources of bone, flesh, and blood. ...Last night I was almost able to corner Susanna as she left Candlehearth. Idiot guards showed up at just the wrong moment and I had to turn about...6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)...(translation from Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Ayleids and first transcribed by Altmer. Provenance and authority unknown)...soon
Feeling bile rise in her throat, Svala threw the books to the side. This reeked of necromancy and dark magic, and it was no surprise that Calixto had found inspiration from Altmer texts. She vaguely remembered some of Trearil's subordinates dabbling in necromancy while she had been his captive...was Corrium a Thalmor agent? How deep did this go?
Suddenly, Svala tensed. She could hear the door beginning to open and panic seized her. Searching her surroundings wildly, she found a wardrobe hidden within a small room nailed to the floor. Although she found it odd, she could hear approaching footsteps and had no option but to open it. The space inside was half of what a normal wardrobe would contain, and she felt around looking for a latch to a false panel. Sure enough, the false bottom gave way and swung open, revealing a secret chamber with contents even more gruesome than the rest of the house.
An altar lay against the wall, with a decomposing skeleton upon it and various organs and strips of flesh surrounding the bone fragments and littering the floor. There was a a small cupboard in the corner stuffed full with more Butcher pamphlets and a small, strange amulet nestled around the faded scraps of parchment. She held it gingerly by the cord, immediately recognizing it- a necromancer's amulet. She remembered seeing the Thalmor necromancers wearing ones identical to the one she held, although this one showed signs of age and wear. She pocketed the amulet, melting into the shadows as the sound of heavy footfalls grew closer.
It was Corrium, alright. And he wasn't alone.
Arivanya, wife of the Bosmer who owned Windhelm stables (gods above she really knew too much about this damn city) was unconscious and slung over Calixto's shoulder. With a grunt, he dropped her onto the altar, sending bones skittering across the wooden floor. Svala squinted her eyes; Arivanya was still breathing, which was a good sign. Still, she knew if she couldn't stop Calixto soon, that would no longer be the case. Silently, she unsheathed her dagger and crept towards the Imperial's back.
Quicker than she would've expected Corrium able to move, he spun towards her, slashing her at her with his own dagger. She leapt out of the way, avoiding any major damage, but could still feel a superficial cut bleeding on her neck. "You really need to be more subtle," he sneered at her smugly. She could feel the cut beginning to throb- something was wrong. Poison? Svala's knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor, feeling her muscles seize in paralysis. Shit. Definitely poison. "No matter. I can always use another participant for my...experiments."
Svala spit at him while she was able, even as the muscles in her face began to freeze as well. This wasn't good. She couldn't even shout now, her last means of escape. Calixto peered down at her standing over her immobile body, before kneeling and rummaging in her pockets, retrieving the amulet and placing it around his neck. "Before I deal with you, though, I think I'll let you enjoy the show."
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Ulfric awoke to tiny hands beating at him wildly.
He shoved blindly, cracking open an eye blearily. Sofie was in his chambers, tears streaming down her face, as she continued to flail at him. "Get up get up GET UP!" She was chanting through her tears. "Mala is gone!"
Mala? "Who?" Ulfric asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Mala? He didn't know anyone by that- oh. Mama and Svala combined would make Mala. Was that what the girl had been calling her? Had he not been so confused and half awake he would've smiled at the endearment. "Lady Svala will be back soon, I'm sure. You know she likes to wander the city."
"She never misses morning meal!" The girl continued hysterically. "Something is wrong, I know it! It's almost noon and she's still not back!"
Noon? Talos, how long had he been asleep?? He supposed he had slept in, enjoying the first peaceful sleep he had enjoyed in ages. Perhaps the kiss he shared with Svala had something to do with it... Fully awake now, Ulfric rose from his bed, pulling on a clean tunic and fastening his armor. "Sofie, go to Wuunferth's chambers. I promise you I will find Lady Svala and return her to you safe and sound." Wordlessly, the little girl nodded, tears still pouring from her large brown eyes. "But you must also promise to never enter my rooms without permission again. I am the Jarl here, and it is not appropriate to do so."
"But I thought she'd be here," Sofie mumbled to her shoes petulantly. Ulfric knelt so that they were of the same height tipping her chin up to face him. "Why would you think that, child? Lady Svala has her own rooms, as you know, since you share them with her. She would have no need to stay here."
"But you love her," the girl snapped at him defiantly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And she loves you. Isn't that what people who love each other do? Sleep in the same bed?"
He could feel the blood rush to his face. Love?? Had Svala said something to her? Had he been that obvious? Not that he loved Svala, he just fancied her... "Sofie. Go. Now."
The girl went running off and Ulfric finished readying himself, walking in fast strides to the throne room. Jorleif was waiting for him with an anxious expression that instantly filled the Jarl with dread. "What is it?"
"My Jarl, the Butcher has struck again. Ulundil has reported his wife Arivanya missing to the local guard."
Instantly, Ulfric knew at once that Svala had gotten herself tangled up in this Butcher mess. Find Arivanya and her captor, and he would find the Dragonborn; he was sure of it. "Assemble the best members of the guard and any Stormcloaks we can spare. I want them to tear Windhelm apart to find them." Before it is too late, a small voice in the back of his mind nagged.
"Them, my Jarl?" Jorleif asked with confusion. "Has the Butcher taken someone else, or do you mean the man himself?"
"Nay," Ulfric shook his head, debating if he should join his men in the search. "I have reason to think Svala might be with them."
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One of the positives about having dragon blood, Svala was coming to realize, was that poisons filtered through her body more quickly than it did for others. Within a short span of time, she could feel sensation beginning to return to her toes, which she wiggled inside her boots. Slowly, her leg muscles loosened as well, though she continued to lie immobile on the floor, watching as Calixto hovered over Arivanya. The Bosmer still lay unconscious, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. Corrium had taken his time with her, spreading a foul smelling paste over her nude form. However, armed with an ancient Nordic embalming tool, he at last seemed ready to continue with whatever ritual he was conducting.
"Pay attention now, Dragonborn," he called over his shoulder to Svala. She blanched at the title. "You know me?"
The necromancer laughed darkly, slicing into the Bosmer woman's thigh. Arivanya shifted slightly but still did not wake. "Of course. Power recognizes power, you see, and I could sense yours the second you approached me in the cemetery. Besides, everyone in Windhelm now knows the Dragonborn has joined the Stormcloak ranks."
Discreetly, she shifted her arms around the meager bindings Calixto had trapped her in. He really was terrible at tying knots- she would be able to free her wrists in no time. Still, she needed the element of surprise, lest he poison her again and hastily kill Arivanya in the process. She needed to keep him talking. "Then you know it is foolish to try and best me."
Corrium shrugged, peeling a flesh of tanned skin from the woman in front of him. "I'm not the one who's tied up."
"Not completely tied," Svala smirked. Summoning her strength, she let the shout burst forth: "Fus Ro Dah!"
Calixto didn't even have time to register his fatal mistake. The blast knocked the Imperial off his feet and sent him crashing against the wall, Arivanya's body slipping off the altar. However, the shock was enough to wake her from whatever spell Calixto had her under, and she awoke blearily with horror spreading on her features. Svala, who had been able to break the rope binding her wrists and ankles through sheer strength, had leapt to her feet and sprung towards her, but Corrium was quicker, grabbing the elf and pulling her against him. He held the embalming tool to her throat, a warning for Svala not to approach any further.
"Shout again and she dies," He snarled.
The mad glint of his eyes in the firelight instantly transported her back to Cyrodiil, as though she were watching herself and Trearil from outside of her body. Trearil, advancing on her with a blade in his hands, as she was chained helpless to the wall...
"Even if we must part, sweetness, I will leave you this souvenir to remember me." His smile was madness personified as he raised the blade in front of her eyes, pressing it against her face and dragging it downwards toward her chin. She screamed in pain, feeling the flesh on her face split open, the magic in the blade ensuring that it would be a wound that would never fully heal. Fury overtook her, feeling like liquid fire coursing through her veins, until it burst forth into pure energy.
The next time she screamed, it was flames erupting from her throat instead of sound.
Trearil stepped backwards, looking terrified for the first time since she had the misfortune of knowing him. Fire continued to pour out of her, now emanating from every pore on her being, leaving her to appear more like a flame atronach than human. The flames rushed toward the Altmer, threatening to swallow him whole. He cast a protective ward around himself, but it was no use- fire ate through the elvish magic, licking the side of his face. Trearil screeched in pain, a hand clasping against his melting flesh. When he pulled his hand away, melted skin and sinew came with it. Svala barely recognized him calling for reinforcements as she stepped towards him, feeling her power grow within her as the flames encompassing her body also grew and pulsed in time. She would roast him alive for all he had done to her...
Half a dozen Thalmor soldiers appeared in front of her then, all casting frost at her. At first, her fire melted away their ice spells quickly, but there were too many of them, and they too powerful. She could feel her body begin to seize in cold, the fire slowly melting away, until she was left before them as flesh once more, turning blue with cold. She fell to her knees and gasped as her vision swam before all went black.
As Svala returned to herself, she was surprised to see Arivanya cowering in fear on the floor, her arms wrapped around her naked shivering body, hands pressed against the gashes of missing skin as blood pooled beneath the gaps between her fingers. She stared at Svala, her eyes wide with terror. Calixto was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he?" Svala asked wildly, spinning around with her weapon drawn. "Did he flee?"
The elf shook her head, too traumatized to speak. Instead, she pointed with a shaking finger to a small pile of ash on the floor in front of her.
The amulet of necromancy lay blackened on top of the smoldering ashes.