dawn comes calling

A/N: Warning, graphic violence.

She jolts awake. The sun was leaking in through the tightly closed curtains, not that they did much to conceal it. They were made of a long and white streaming fabric that floated around on a silent breeze. Serana sits up. Her bed was draped in a canopy, one of those beds where the curtains could close and offer more privacy. But she wanted to see her room. She wanted to be able to notice if someone was entering.

She curls her hands around the soft blanket that was draped over her last night. She didn't feel it, didn't even hear him or whoever came in to do it. And she didn't wake up when she wanted, right before dawn to go hunting in the library again. Now that the sun was rising it was going to be closed for the hour.

With that thought in mind, she slowly leans back in bed and folds herself into the soft pillows. Thoughts of Vorstag, his beautiful face come crashing back and with it, a sharp pain in her heart. She had him. He was hers and she was his. And he was taken away. Serana stares at the door for a long time. Wondering when the man who took her will come calling for her. If he opened the door, could she merely send an ice spike through his face? Would that do anything to keep him away from her as she made her escape?

When a harsh scraping sound comes from outside the door, she knows it would not. She pulls the covers tighter when a bright light glows from the hallway. Serana shifts so she's lying flat on the mattress. If she closes her eyes, maybe he won't bother her…

"Serana, sweet Serana, look who I found." His deep voice sings. She hears the door creak open.

She couldn't help it. She opens her eyes and halts her breath. Right next to Mannimarco, standing with flame lighting her person, is Dawn. At first, Serana is relieved, that is, until she sees the smug smile on Mannimarco's face.

"How did she get here?" Serana asks. Better to let him know it was her Flame Atronach.

When Mannimarco, her captor, ghosts into the room, she rises from the bed to stand next to it. Almost wishing she had a glass, or even better, a sword, in her hand. Mannimarco stops dead in the center of the room, his dark robes swaying around him, and waves to her thrall. Dawn floats forwards at his command.

"Hm," Mannimarco strokes his chin, studying the creature next to him. "She must have followed through the void I created between worlds. When the bond is this strong between thrall and conjurer, these things tend to happen. But worry not, I fixed it. I'm just pleasantly surprised at how powerful you are."

Serana pauses, feeling her heart beating faster. "What do you mean, fixed her? What did you do?"

Mannimarco lays a hand on Dawn's head and runs it down the side of her face. The flames lick his skin but don't burn it. Nor, do they engulf it in flames. "I broke the bond between you two. She won't be a nuisance for you anymore. When first learning magic, choosing a spell that's so complicated will take a lot of energy from you. Even after you conjured her." His eyes graze over Serana's form, still clothed from the journey yesterday. "She was lapping the strength from you."

"She wasn't." Serana interjects. She feels she needs to defend her friend. Meanwhile, her heart was racing so fast she could feel it beating through her chest.

"She was." The man before her says sternly. He stares her down. His smiling face in complete contrast with the harsh look in his eyes. "But don't fret, you won't be lonely. She's going to stay with you while in my home. Be a good companion and make sure you're safe."

And make sure Serana can't find a way to escape. He didn't need to say those words for her to know. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her that.

But she could get around it. She would. Growing up, she had to learn how to tiptoe around father's rules. So carefully that he wouldn't even think she was doing anything that went against his will. Over the years, her ability to sneak around and not get caught only became more adept. Until she was stuck underground. Now, she's rusty.

It seemed it was time for a little practice.

Serana smiles, one of those angelic smiles that her mother always was so fond of. She wasn't Lord Harkon's daughter for nothing, and she wouldn't put those long years under his thumb to waste. "That's a lovely idea."

Vorstag's mouth bleeds when his fangs sink into it. His head smacks against a large rock, breaking it on impact. The creature flew at him again. He couldn't pass out now. He rolls and jumps, able to find his footing easily. He dodges the blow sent his way. The Xivkyn who was swinging the blade snarls in his face. Black, fiery substance lands and Vorstag can feel his skin burning.

Gods…he knew Molag Bal would send whoever he could after him and today was no less challenging. In an attempt to bring Vorstag back from the brink of what he called depravity, Molag Bal has made sure to bring in daedra of all shapes and sizes to test his might. Every day, Vorstag was tasked with fighting the daedra to the death in the small arena set up in Molag Bal's quarters.

Vorstag backs away as another blow lands. The other Xivkyn was circling him. They were human-like daedra and from what Molag Bal said, they were a fusion of Xivilai and Dremora, two other daedra. Not that Vorstag cared. He only wanted to get out with his head intact. He swings his blade, a black rusty one and cleaves it into the approaching daedra.

It's spits up something fowl, sending it Vorstag's way. Before he can blink, he hears the other creep up behind him, hitting him so hard in the head he sees stars. A quick shove to the back and Vorstag goes sprawling on the ground again, his head hitting another rock.

Don't pass out, not yet. He keeps telling himself. He blinks and rises, but too slowly.

"Weak. Weak. Get up! I didn't make you my Champion to watch you flail around in the mud." Molag Bal yells from his throne. Above the small pit called the arena soared tall ceilings of black and blue brick. It reached so high, when Vorstag first entered the room, he could only stare. He didn't know such a marvel of architecture could withstand the test of time. For a few short years, certainly, but eons?

That earned a quick slap to the face from Molag Bal. He was then flung into the pit. Thrown in with nothing but a flimsy dagger and what little armor he had on to fight the first of the creatures. It was a flesh atronach…and Vorstag wished to never think on it again. He only prayed Serana never conjured one. It was ghastly looking, too large of a body with one soul tethered to it.

"For the love of all divine, to your left." Molag Bal sneers from his throne. Vorstag thought the throne would be ornate and overly lavish in riches. But it turned out to be a seat made of bones. Nothing pretty, but nothing too obscene.

It's something Serana would laugh at. If Vorstag told her what the Prince of Enslavement usually lived with and did with his time, she might find it amusing. The thought of her fuels him. Even though it's been weeks since he's seen her, by his estimate,

Vorstag rolls when the daedra charges him with a sword raised. Vorstag keeps low to the ground, crouched down in a squat, since this daedra was going high with his hits. He dodges each one and spins just so he can find the weakest part in the armor.

Right below the base of the head. The daedra snarls that fowl substance but Vorstag plunges the blade through his neck before it can get on him. The daedra falls dead. One more to go.

"Better." Molag Bal laughs.

Vorstag finds him. The other daedra, decked out in some of the most powerful armor on the other side of the arena. He bares his teeth at Vorstag, showing them to be stained black and white before he charges. The mercenary was prepared for it. He dodges, spins, and hits him right in the head where he was weak. The daedra's eyes roll back, the horns on his head nearly scratch Vorstag when he falls dead to the ground.

Vorstag stands panting and exhausted. This was his fourth fight today and there was one more to go. Some days, he had three fights but the daedra were more powerful and harder to kill. Then other days he was fighting seven different daedra at different times. He wishes he could say those days were easier…but sometimes Molag Bal throws him a curve ball. Sometimes those seven fights were the toughest he's ever had. Good thing he was immortal.

He looks up to his Prince, his body battered, bruising, now bleeding, and falls to his knees. "Am I ready?" He bows his head to the Prince. He now knows that's what he likes.

There is no sound. Usually, Molag Bal was quick to dismiss him. "No, tomorrow you will have a tougher fight. So, rest up." He would usually say with a mocking smile.

Today, he only heard the sharp scuffling of feet. Only smelled the sickly scent of those decaying before him and the earthing smell of the mud beneath his knees. Something falls into the pit with him.

His heart freezes. For a second, he thinks he pushed too far. Maybe Molag Bal thought his biggest challenge would be fighting the Prince himself. But when he raises his head, he doesn't see the Prince of Enslavement ready for battle before him. Instead, he finds a young Brenton girl, maybe only twelve. She's bleeding and nearly as bruised as he is. Her eyes are frantic as she watches Vorstag. She's wearing nothing but rags and dirt.

"This is your final challenge." Molag Bal sits back in his throne. Vorstag can hear the bones creaking with the weight of him. "Kill the girl and you win. Only then are you truly my Champion."

Vorstag snaps his head up. "Where is she from?"

The Prince glares down at him and picks one of those bones. One from a forearm it seemed. It was so small in his hands it merely looked like a stick. He bites the end of it, breaking off a piece and leaving a sharp point at the end. He throws it down into the mud.

It falls with a spat next to the girl, sending more water and dirt on her. She looks as if she were about to cry. "Does it matter, vampire? She came from somewhere in the overland. I sent my best subjects to retrieve her. Now, kill her and be done with it. Your tasks need to be completed soon."

Was he…nervous? Vorstag watches him again. "I won't do it. She doesn't deserve this. I don't care if you tell me she killed someone, she's a child. She doesn't deserve this punishment."

Molag Bal leans forwards in his throne, his fingers curl around the skulls at the end, giving enough pressure that they crack. His flaming eyes hooded by his dark eyelids glare down. "What sort of crime must she have committed for you to do this? Kill her. I told you to. If you don't you stay in this pit tonight and sleep until your next fight in a few hours."

The thought of another long, harrowing fight, makes his knees weak. He only wanted to enter his quarters and sleep in his own hay bed. It smelled, it was covered in bugs, but it was better than the floor. But staring at the trembling girl before him, now starting to cry so hard she was shaking, kept him standing. "I won't." He throws down his sword.

The girl collapses in relief. Molag Bal just stares. It was not a good thing to see no reaction from him. A gnashing of teeth. Spitting vile and cruel words, by Oblivion, even just a slap to the face would assure Vorstag that the Prince accepted this defeat. But the empty eyes staring down showed something else. He grins. "Very well."

Something should have happened. A horde of Winged Twilights should have flown in to pull him away to prepare him for the next fight. Instead, glowing light appears on the far end and before Vorstag can move, he notices her.

In the shadows of that light sits Serana, as beautiful as he left her, sitting chained in a chair. Her eyes are utterly fearful. She thrashes about, her lovely hair flying over her face. "Vorstag! Help! Vorstag, what is this?"

His heart breaks staring at her. Every instinct in his body says to run to her as she thrashes in the seat. But he keeps his feet rooted in place. It wasn't her. There was no way it was her. Mannimarco would not let her go so easily.

"What do you think of the love of your life at my mercy?" Molag Bal stands and prowls the perimeter of the arena. His macabre form shades Vorstag of the dim light above, each step seemed to be heavy. "Speak, boy. I command you. What do you wish to do seeing her in this state?"

He points one long, gnarled finger at the vampire girl down below and Serana screams. So loud that Vorstag falls to his knees again. She screams and screams as her form is pelted with fire that springs up all along her skin. It leaves Vorstag shaking.

It isn't her. It isn't her.

He knows it deep down. No matter how much his eyes wish to deceive him, watching her, she didn't act as she would in a situation like this.

"Now, kill the girl or I kill this vampire." Molag Bal stands fifty feet up above her, but his finger was still pointed in Serana's direction. Her beautiful golden eyes are filled with pain as she stares at Vorstag. Bloody tears drip down her face. "Help me." She whispers.

It isn't her. "I won't." Vorstag says.

The Brenton girl across from him, now on her hands and knees, starts sobbing uncontrollably. She clasps her hands before her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She keeps repeating.

"Why don't you believe this?" Molag Bal points again and Vorstag nearly screams himself when he sees Serana's eyes go vacant. Her mouth hangs open and he recoils when black, slimy insects fall from her mouth and eyes. They begin to burrow out of her skin and spill onto the ground. Flames lick her skin again, burning her and the rest of the crawling bugs.

"She's not here. She's with Mannimarco. He would not let her go and from what I heard, even you cannot take her back." He tells the truth. He tried and tried in the little free time he had here to retrieve her. He called ghosts. Spirits. Asked them how to find her. All proved unsuccessful. They told him if they could not find her, then no one can.

"That bullshit again?" Molag Bal booms down from above.

Vorstag flinches with that sound. This wasn't the first, second, or third time he's brought up Mannimarco. But every time he did, he was never believed and only met with a flaying. He would take that beating today to save the girl before him.

Something slams into his head. He falls face first into the putrid mud and rolls to avoid the next hit. Molag Bal's kicks him hard in the stomach. "Even after all this time with the failing fantasy of yours, you think the man I have so carefully bound and tortured every day is still running free?"

"He got out." Vorstag chokes.

Another hit. Molag Bal falls on Vorstag, his face is all he sees before the fangs sink into his neck. Vorstag grunts but he holds fast. At least it wasn't the girl on the other side of the room. He feels those fangs make purchase in his skin and pull. Vorstag's instincts, as all humans and vampires had, was to pull away as far as he could.

Blood spurts from him and he feels a sickening pain as the fangs pull free. Molag Bal smashes Vorstag's head against the muddy ground, once, twice, three times. So hard he can feel his skull breaking. He lays there, panting, and scared. So scared. He would never admit that to anyone else, not even the Prince of Enslavement.

He's so close now, Vorstag can smell his cold breath on his skin. "Now tell me, why didn't you believe my illusion? Why didn't you think your lover was chained before you?"

A man without an answer to the puzzle. If he didn't get it, he would be beaten again. So Vorstag, with a swelling face and half open eyes, looks to him. "Her face. Her nose was off. Crooked."

Molag Bal rises, and guffaws. It echoes through the cavern. The only sound in the room now that the girl has stopped crying out of pure fear. She still kneels in the mud, staring at Vorstag with wide, fearful eyes. He tries to smile to calm her.

Molag Bal grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him up before he can tell her anything. "That's what I thought. Get up. We have business to attend to."

Her days were languid. Comfortable, if she were being honest. A surprise for a place like this. Serana spent most of her days and nights in the library pouring over any books she could find. She studied the Soul Cairn, dark magic, daedra and gods. Committing important words and information to memory.

Every night she studied she always felt Dawn warming her at her back. But she didn't mind what she saw. Mannimarco was impressed enough to help her in her studies. The other parts of her days were spent talking with him over a goblet of blood. Twice a day, as promised.

When he heard of her readings, he took a keen interest in helping her. Some nights, they would discuss dark magic over a glass of wine or blood. He was eager to divulge in long kept secrets he knew of sorcerers, mages, and daedra he's known throughout his time.

The information was sometimes meaningful, but when he would drone on too long, Serana found her glass slipping in her hands. Along with her head falling. Mannimarco would only laugh and tell her to get some sleep.

During these times she noticed some quirks about him. Information that could be useful. He seemed to be a lonely man. She could tell based on the way he looked at her, like she was the first person he's seen in years. When they would converse, he would take over the conversation and dominate it with a loud voice. Putting almost too much information in the gaps, and not letting her get a word in.

Some nights she could hear him pacing while she slept. Only, she kept her eyes wide open when he would pass her room. Fearful that he would barge in and demand something of her. But he never did, he let her be. So, she would return to daydreaming about Vorstag. Remembering the glint in his eye and the angles of his face.

During the day, she noticed odd things about the palace as well. In the library she saw that the living dead lining the perimeter of the room were not all that attentive. Only when something moved. The Lich manning the desk in the center of the room would take her lunch breaks outside in the gardens, leaving her desk unattended.

Sometimes the books seemed to speak. Creaking and moaning the library as the only sound to accompany the running water from the fountain. Serana thought it was her imagination at first. That was, until the day one of the books she was scouring lifted from her hands, like someone were pulling it up, and flipped the pages to another article. Which she dutifully read.

One time, she remembered and eerie blue glow in the library long after the sun set. At first, she thought it was another odd constellation or celestial event outside. But eventually she found it to be the glowing eyes of Vanus. The statue in the center and Mannimarco's rival. She wondered if her own eyes glowed in the fountain in the back gardens. But she didn't have the energy to go and check herself.

At dawn, she stayed in her room. At night, she enjoyed a glass of blood with Mannimarco droning on about some obscure reference she found that day. During the days she would sometimes pace the palace herself, brushing her hand over each painting and committing it to memory. That, along with how the paths curved and twisted. Where they would break apart and allow a long doorway to the outside gardens. She never set foot in those after the first day. She didn't feel the need to. She knew with Dawn at her back, to run out to that rift in the sky and hope it sucked her up and back to Skyrim, was a fool's errand. To do that once, was to lose Mannimarco's trust.

Trust that she needed. She didn't know what he did with his time, but she only saw him twice each day. She dreaded when she needed to be in his presence for the whole day. To share his bed. Meals. Every waking moment.

Come to think of it. Her eyes snap open and she stares out one of the tall windows in the library. Dawn was behind her, hovering near her. And the sound of book filings down below let her know the Lich was working.

But outside the window was one of the ornate gardens. Filled with the collage of colorful and exotic flowers. She wonders why she never saw streamers amongst them. Never saw a stage adorned in white flowers and a banquet of food spread out behind it.

She wonders why there were never guests, never fanciful gifts, never good wishes. Why she never wore a white dress that fell past her toes and let out into a long train to match her veil. After that first day, there was no talk of the marriage she was supposed to be a part of.

"Thinking again? Who are you reading now?"

Serana jolts and smooths down her hair when she finds Mannimarco behind her. He stands in the shadows; his lovely face is wreathed in them with the bright light coming through the window. He has a small smile on his face. Not for the first time, Serana finds him utterly beautiful.

"I don't know. Just…fun I guess." She tries to hide the cover of The Lusty Argonian Maid. But Mannimarco seems to have seen it based on his laugh.

She wanted to find it the first day she was here, but she was too worried what he would see through Dawn. After weeks of…well, nothing from him, she decided she wanted to read it again.

And dream of the man who first took it from her. With curiosity in his eyes and joy in his voice when he would poke and prod her about the content. She knew he never really wanted to read it. But Vorstag always made a good show about it.

Her heart thumps in her chest as she remembers. That first night in Solitude…why didn't she just go back in the room once he was in the bed? Why didn't she just curl up with him and savor each moment?

"Ah, the romance genre. We have many books on that subject." He lowers a pale hand to move the book from her hands. He opens it to the center. It wasn't a lewd scene, no, it was one of the sweeter ones. When the main characters were finally getting to know one another.

"I was thinking. I was hoping to make some headway with you. We haven't gotten much chance to talk about our lives, our likes and dislikes. I admit, it was my fault since we were so invested in the subject of necromancy and magic. But I was wondering if I could take you somewhere today?"

Based on the position of the sun, Mannimarco was done with whatever he did early. "Where?" She asks.

"A meadow near here. When I need time to think or just get away, I go there." He holds out a hand.

She has no choice. It felt like a betrayal for Dawn to have turned against her. Instead of a friendly and protective presence at her side, she was now a more nefarious being. Always watching her. But it wasn't Dawn who made her hold out her hand. Any time with Mannimarco when he had his guard down was a time to poke around for weaknesses.

"Sure." She smiles, "I'd like that." And takes his cold hand in hers.

His room was pathetic. Too small, too cold, and too dark. Vorstag collapsed on the bed and wrapped his arms around himself for any warmth. Not that he needed it. But he felt like he did after what Molag Bal told him. He was supposed to go on the first task tomorrow. Apparently, Molag Bal was desperate enough that he didn't want to waste more time with Vorstag in the arena. Now, he was supposed to perform the acts as his Champion.

And this first task? To retrieve the Mace of Molag Bal. His artifact. Vorstag remembers clearly when he was in the larger group with Eve and Bryn and Mjoll. They scoured all of the province for each and every artifact to help them. He wondered if the Mace stayed around with someone. For their sake, he hoped not. He hoped it was lying in a field somewhere, waiting for someone to pick it up.

He had nothing else to think about. He was only grateful the girl was led out of the arena. He didn't know if she was led to safety, but he told himself she was. He had the daydream that she was set free back into whatever province she came from. Without a scratch on her.

The howling and screams outside told another story. He rolls to his side and clamps his hands over his ears. Gods, the sounds! They would never end!

The screaming continues. He starts to rock, anything to get to sleep tonight. He couldn't stay up, not with what he had to do tomorrow. So, he thought of her.

Serana's soft voice, her pale skin, her jeweled body, the way she glanced back at him to make sure he was listening. He remembers the soft but sarcastic way she spoke. How smart she was, she held the final piece to every puzzle.

But not this one. Many times, he's sat in this room and prayed that she would show up. That she found a way through a portal and is here to save him from this hell. But staring at the wall never did anything. It never opened up a portal to bring him home.

Fresh tears are now streaming down his face. He rocks again to keep himself sane. Keeps his hands clamped on his ears as the piercing screams intensify. He thinks of her face. Her lovely eyes. The way her curves melded to his hands when he held her. She was so lovely; someone he could never dream up. And she was ripped away.

Torn right from his hands with the man with an ugly snarl. He was a beautiful creature physically, Mannimarco, but that horrible soul underneath always bared its terrible face. Vorstag stops. Freezes. He keeps Mannimarco's smug face suspended in his mind. How his eyes glowed with something mocking. He knew Vorstag was no worthy opponent. He knew Vorstag was never going to pose a threat to him.

The tears stop now. And Vorstag is relieved, that for once, he has stopped feeling sorry for himself. Staring at Mannimarco in his mind's eye has re-ignited the burning flame in his heart. Not of desire but of the most ravaging emotion known to man.

The scream sounds again. A piercing, hawk-like shriek. Vorstag rises to his knees and slams his hand against the wall once, twice. "Stop it! I'm trying to sleep!" He yells.

The thing wails again, a long, horrible wail. Like it wanted attention. "Stop it!" He yells through the dried tears. That burning of hatred still in his heart.

Another shriek sounds, but softer. He slams his hand again one more time. "Stop it! I am Molag Bal's Champion and I command you!" He slams one more time and feels the dust and debris from the stone fall on his face and armor. It dirtied his bed, not that it mattered. It wouldn't keep him up like the screams would. He finally collapses in bed and eventually falls into a deep sleep.

As if they knew the importance of what he said, the rest of the night held nothing but silence.

Serana shivers with the breeze. It was cold for this time of day, but she would take any discomfort to see this sight. Before them, spread a large meadow of vivid green, dotted with pink and white flowers in the center. Yellow crowned the ridge of the hill beyond. But it was the shiny oasis in the center that kept her attention.

A solitary tree kneels over a pool of water. Its blossoms are an array of violet and magenta flowers. Petals fell from it and landed onto the water below, collecting around the edge of the pond. It wasn't just a little pond. It was deeper than that. The water is so clear and so blue, it almost looked unreal.

"You can swim in it, if you wish." Mannimarco says next to her. He had taken off his robe and now stands in basic noble clothing, a strange thing to see him in. She took off her cloak too, aside from the stray breeze, it was warm in the bright sun above. And utterly incredible that she didn't burn in it.

She spies the water down below and slowly dips her toes in. Not cold in the slightest, warm and inviting like a bath after a long day. "We can?"

Mannimarco laughs, "Of, course you can. I will join you." She averts her eyes as he takes off the rest of his clothing, only staying in long black briefs. His well-muscled chest shines incredibly pale in the light.

"You don't have to be shy. You can look all you want." He says in amusement. She hears a soft splash and finally turns to see him wading in the deep water. His long white hair streams out around him. "Come in here, Serana, the water is fine."

She didn't want to. Didn't want to be anywhere near him. But she needed information. And getting a warm pool of water wasn't like other possibly degrading acts she could partake in for such information. She peels off her dress and the rest of her clothing until she's wearing only her underwear and a small dress slip.

She used to be incredibly shy about others seeing her body. She would cross her arms, try to keep as much modesty as possible. But living for centuries just…did something. She sinks into the water feeling that small white dress flow out around her. "Wow. I didn't know this was possible."

Mannimarco smiles and instead of saying something to that, he dives. She looks down to see his flowing hair trail after him down, down, down to the bottom. When he hits it he's so far away she can't even see him. He bursts from the water right next to her, making her shriek in fear and paddle away.

He laughs, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I only wanted to show you what Amaranth gave us. This pool goes down hundreds of feet, and here at the bottom…" He holds up something.

She floats closer to see what's in his hand. A golden circle, almost like…

"A pearl. There are many uncut gems down there. Strange and unusual rock formations. You can come see if you want." He yanks his hand away before she can touch the pearl and gives her a sly smile.

Damn it. She wanted answers. Time to pry him open and unspool his secrets like he pried open that poor clam for the golden pearl. But she had to play along to get to that point. "Okay. Show me."

He dives under and she does too, letting the warm water envelop her face. As a vampire she didn't need to breathe, so she could spend as long a time under water as she wished. She reluctantly holds Mannimarco's hand as he pulls her down under the vast pool.

Down here, she noticed tunnels jutting into the rock around them. All underwater caves.

Those are where you find the most precious gems. If you're adventurous.

She nearly yelps with the sound of his voice in her mind. It was like before, but he was so close…she guesses there's no other way to talk under water. She squeezes his large hand to let him know she heard him.

He pulls her down, down so far that the light was having a hard time reaching this place. When her eyes adjust, she nearly gasps. Down here, there were numerous rubies, sapphires, amethysts, opals, any gem one would want. Emeralds were embedded on the sides of the walls and she noticed large clams anchored to the ground.

Mannimarco brushes a hand along the treasures below and holds his hand out to her. Rubies and emeralds were amongst the diamonds in his hand. This was…impossible. Magnificent.

She feels the magic in this place. Like a haze. Something that was pulling at her strings with each glimmer of the gems in his hands. What do you think?

It's lovely. She wanted to say. But speaking it wouldn't get through his mind.

There was nothing to say down here in the depths. But the haze coating her mind now, thick and heavy like a low rolling thunderstorm in her mind has taken her. A pink haze, something sweet and fluffy. Something that made her want to do strange things.

She pulls Mannimarco to her, the gems fall from his hands as they encircle her. And she tilts her head to find his lips on hers and kiss him with a passion she shouldn't have.

Vorstag woke up with the door slamming open. He flinches. "Get up." Molag Bal tells him.

He was weak. Still tired, and still without blood. As if the Prince thought of it, a bucket lands in Vorstag's lap filled to the brim with the very substance. Vorstag is shocked to feel the blood coating his hands and legs now. He needs it so much; he licks his fingers before drinking the whole bucket dry.

Molag Bal stares at him while he gulps down the blood ravenously. "When you tire from sucking the teat of the innocent, you will hear your instructions."

That horrible thought almost makes him spit out the blood. He lowers the bucket, terrified to know who's it is. "What is it?" He won't show weakness in the face of his master.

Molag Bal grins. "You are to get my artifact back. In whatever manner possible. I command you, as my Champion, to go kill those who keep it hidden and bring it back to me. Coated in their blood."

A message. That's what he was giving him: kill the innocents who have the Mace. He will expect nothing less. "I'll do it."

The Prince's eyebrows raise. "You're perky today, what got into you last night? I heard you screaming."

He doesn't dare utter Mannimarco's name. "I have a burning in my heart. It won't be free until I'm stronger." Strong enough to take on Mannimarco and win. To make sure Serana is never torn from him again.

"That's a start. Get up and get your weapons. I'll take you to the portal when you're ready." Molag Bal leaves him alone.

Vorstag leans his head against the cold pale in his hands. He doesn't know whose blood this is…but he can guess. The hatred rears up. If he could, he would kill Molag Bal. But nothing short of banishing him would keep him away. It was a fool's errand. He had to keep his focus. He has to remember who he's fighting for. He stands slowly and gets his things.

The weapons turned out to be elaborate. The most gorgeous and trusty sword, a few daggers, and a bow and arrows to complete the package. Vorstag finally shuffles into the large throne room. Once he rounds the corner, he straightens his back and holds his head high. On the other side stands Molag Bal at the portal. Only swirling purple and white greet him. Where he was going was an utter mystery.

"You know what you have to do?" Molag Bal doesn't look at him. Only stares at the portal in utter glee.

"I do. Kill all who hold the Mace and bring it back to you."

"Good. Don't fuck this up and you'll have a more peaceful night." Molag Bal finally tears his eyes away from the portal to watch Vorstag. "Are you sure you don't want weapons forged in Oblivion?"

"I do better with these." Vorstag has to suppress the shudder that threatened him. To hold a daedric blade…he didn't want to try it. Eve was sometimes prey to her own Daedric Artifacts. He didn't wish to try one. At least Molag Bal let him keep his mind through all this torture and terror.

"Fine. Go. Come back victorious." The Prince shoves him.

Vorstag feels the ground ripped out from under him as he freefalls. He hits the rocky ground with a smash. With enough force to break the cobblestone. He suppresses a moan and rises, pulling his short sword to make sure it was okay.

It was. But the light reflecting from it made him pause. By the gods…there was no way. He slowly raises his face to take in his surroundings. Of the home of those he had to kill. Across the wet cobblestone, still fresh with rain and reflecting off the pools stood tall lights. In the center of the long staircase was a long, and trusty establishment. One he never wished to see while with Molag Bal.

Jorrvaskr, the large, upturned ship and home of the warriors known as the Companions, stands before him. Vorstag takes a deep breath. Not for relief, but to prepare himself. Outside the home and staring down at him is one of the leaders of the Companions.

"It's you! I haven't seen you in a while, how've you been?" Vilkas gives Vorstag a cheery smile and moves to the staircase to hold out a hand for him.

Vorstag lets go of his hilt, just this time. No matter the thumping in his heart, no matter how his instincts say to run as far away as possible, he takes it and gives the werewolf a firm handshake. "Well enough, Vilkas, and you?"

"Fine, just fine! We've been pretty busy around here recently." He eyes Vorstag's armor. "Are you alright? I heard something loud out here, it almost sounded like a dragon landing in the yard."

Vorstag gives a half-hearted laugh. But he's secretly trying to calm his heart and find his way out of this mess. There was no way the Mace was here. But even has he thought that he felt the pull of it. It was right inside those doors.

Vilkas's smiling face was the only thing in his way. A good man. A competent warrior. A great conversationalist. And no one who deserves this treatment. "Well, don't just stand there! Did you hear anything? Wait, on second thought, come with me. You're probably thirsty, we can sit and talk over a warm meal."

He couldn't say anything. Not through the panic consuming him that he had to get the Mace and leave. He wanted to tell Vilkas of the deal he made with the Daedric Prince and how much danger he and everyone in that building were in. But not this moment. He had to plan.

Vorstag gives a cheery smile of his one. "Lead the way, lad. Let's eat and be merry. Maybe I'll sing a song or two."

"That's the spirit! Haven't had a good bard in these parts for ages." Vilkas walks ahead and Vorstag has to follow. Damn his heart. Damn what happened last night. It was almost as admitting he was Molag Bal's Champion…it was changing his thoughts. Instead of seeing Vilkas as a good friend and one he could spend hours conversing with, he only stares at the back of his head and wonders how he can cave it in.

She was consumed in him. His soft lips roamed hers before falling to her neck and down her body. His hands cupped her and moved along her skin with a tenderness she's rarely known. Her back was to the side of the pool. The hard rocks and openings to the tunnels dig into her.

Serana twines her hands through his long hair and pulls, just so he can free his lips from her neck. She wasn't finished with him yet. She licks his lips, all the way up his cheek, a dirty little thing, before putting her mouth to his again.

Her body melds with his. Without the little shift and other small clothing between them, it would be bliss. She knew his golden eyes raked her body and wondered the same thing. She knew he loved it when she curled her hands through his brown hair. She knew he loved it when she ran her tongue along his fangs, a sensitive thing for some vampires.

Only…he didn't have fangs. Not like she remembered. She pulls away and the illusion is gone. Instead of Vorstag staring back through her in the water with the same heat she felt, she sees Mannimarco watching her with desire.

Her heart was in her throat. Whatever magic was here, it was consuming her. She had to get away and going to the surface was too far. Before Mannimarco can pull her to him again, she grabs onto the edge of one of those tunnels and worms her way in there.

Don't do that.

He wasn't longing. He wasn't begging. Please. Don't go. Come back. We can go back to the surface.

Serana stares into the inky depths of the tunnel. She could escape this way. But who knows where the tunnel led? It could just spit her back out here. She would be better off returning to the surface.

I won't touch you without your consent. Take my hand and I will lead us to the surface. We can cool off there.

His hand outstretches towards her. Her heart was galloping with the mistake she made. The idea she gave him. She made him think he had her. But she takes his hand.

The water pulls at them as they ascent, as if it wants to drag them back down there so they can finish what they started. They break the surface and Mannimarco pulls her to the banks.

"Here." He helps her out and wraps a blanket, seemingly out of nowhere around her. She falls to the ground, gasping.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Mannimarco crouches next to her.

She's shaking. "But you want it? We're supposed to be married."

He nods slowly, as if he were talking to a toddler. "We are. It's something couples do." He moves some wet hair from her face. Serana resists the urge to flinch away.

She pulls the blanket tighter. The awkward silence is a void that wanted to be filled but no matter how good a conversationalist Mannimarco was, he had nothing to say. He only gathers her clothes and hands them to her. He turned away as she dressed and when he was fully clothed, they walked back to the palace. Him ahead of Serana and her lagging behind. Her head was still fuzzy.

"What was that? The magic that enveloped me."

Mannimarco doesn't look back, "Something that is a byproduct of Amaranth. There is strange magic here that is hard for even me to control."

"What is the bargain you made? Why do you want me? What do you want of me?" She has to ask before they can go further. She stops, feeling the wet dirt and grass below her feet.

Mannimarco keeps walking through the gold touched fields. The sun was just setting, and it lit the whole meadow ablaze in gold and yellow streaks. "I think we've had enough talk today. We should rest tonight and…maybe I'll tell you tomorrow. Maybe we can come back here." He says.

Without bidding her goodbye he slinks off into the palace. His shoulders were hunched. She felt bad…a bit. He was a lonely man and the only companionship she gave him she just ripped away. But she couldn't shake her feelings of violation. So, she climbs the stairs to her room, bathes quickly as not to be in the water for too long. She 's had enough of that today. Once dried and ready for bed, she curls up in the warm sheets and falls soundly asleep.

Serana woke up before the sun did. She wanted to go to the library, but it would be closed in an hour. Instead, she busied her mind and cleaned her room. Picked up all her clothing and scoured the wardrobe for something nice to wear.

She thought about it right before bed last night. It must have disappointed Mannimarco for her to pull away from him like she did. But she crossed a line she never would have if she were in her right mind. Serana brushes the sleeve of a bright blue dress. It has cream colored ribbons adorning the edges and the puffy sleeves of it. She will wear it today.

She won't kiss him again. She won't go in that pool no matter what he says. But she will regain his trust. Building a Soul Cairn here did nothing. Performing dark magic to raise the dead in her command or conjuring daedra wasn't getting anywhere. She was powerless here except for the fact that Mannimarco seemed to obsess over her. So, she would use it to her advantage.

She heard him pacing last night. Back and forth in front of her room, as if contemplating coming in to talk with her, but he finally turned away. Now, hearing his sure footsteps outside, he sounds less like a defeated man and more like someone with a purpose.

"Serana. I have something to show you." Mannimarco opens the door with a beaming smile.

His smile didn't hold any malice. Just purpose. She smiles back, softly, before it fades. Movement behind him alerts her. She gulps as the person, creature, whatever, peers around him to see her. And…how.

Mannimarco moves so Serana can see who was skulking in the doorway. She wants to fall to her knees to cry in happiness. For once, her fickle self just wants to be held in her bed all day and consoled. In the doorway stood Lord Harkon's wife, her mother, fresh from the Soul Cairn. She opens her arms, "Serana. I missed you." Are her first words.

Serana has no response but to run into her arms and sob.

A/N: Thank you for the likes and views! I'm happy people are enjoying this fic so far! I should have the next chapter out next Sunday. Tomorrow I'm going to publish the next chapter in Storm of Skyrim: The 13th Season! Be sure to check it out!

I just wanted to talk about the inspiration for this chapter. Mannimarco's palace is inspired by the Spring Court in "A Court of Thorns and Roses" series by Sarah J. Maas. I love the meadow scene in that first book and wanted to re-create it with my own spin on it. I like to think of it as a tribute to a series that means a lot to me. If you haven't read those books, I highly recommend them! The characterization is impressive, and even though they're long, the books go by fast. They're incredibly addictive! Currently I'm reading Stephen King, so we'll see if I get any inspiration from his books. :D