Of the multitude of things that were new to her after escaping her stone prison, Serana had not expected her savior to be the most confusing. Really, everything about him was almost the opposite of her expectations.
She had expected her mother at best, her father or someone under him elsewise. Valios was decidedly neither of those people (for better or worse). A vampire, most likely, because why would anyone except a vampire be able to find her prison and release her?
Naturally, Valios was a self-professed vampire hunter.
When the stone had slid open and she'd collapsed outward, feeling like she'd just been pretending to be a statue for an indeterminate amount of time with how stiff she was, she might've been expecting someone to catch her. Or inquire after her well-being. Or that of the Elder Scroll. Or otherwise talk down to the Princess of Volkihar Court with a cultured accent that she'd come to expect.
She hadn't expected… laughter. Incredulous, hysterical laughter, coming from a man who was covered in blood that may or may not have been his own, in unfamiliar armor, who seemed to take her being a vampire as the most ironic turn of events to ever happen.
And then he was immediately making deductions and asking questions about why she was in there, and within a few words he had already guessed that something much bigger was going on. He had been laughing his ass off - literally, he fell onto the ground - and then interrogating her in such a casual, quick manner, if she'd been any more aware of herself she might've gotten whiplash.
And then came the confession of having killed vampires to reach her, fishing for a response. And the subsequent confession of not wanting to kill more vampires, which… didn't really make any sense at all.
He'd gone on to say some confusing things about an Empire in Cyrodiil of all places (and really, who would've seen that coming?) and a conclusion reached about the fact that her entire family were higher vampires. They were Pureblooded Vampires, technically, but she thought that it wasn't worth noting the difference, nor divulging the secret. He was clearly keeping some from her, so she thought she should at least keep some in reserve.
After that, he passed out. And she… had panicked.
She did not know anything about the man except that he wasn't her parents, wasn't a vampire, and despite saying he was a hunter, hadn't killed her nor shown any inclination he was going to. So she, fresh out of a thousand-year coma, had decided that the best course of action was to drag him somewhere that wasn't surrounded by freshly deceased bodies and gargoyles, dust off her magicka reserves to employ what healing magic she knew, and hope that he didn't renege on his not-quite-a-promise when he woke up.
In hindsight… not the best course of action she could've taken. But it had worked, in the end, when he woke up almost as bewildered as he was before he passed out, asking why she'd saved him.
(He was being dramatic, because he probably wouldn't have bled out, or anything… but those gargoyles did look a bit menacing, and she didn't know of the state of her mother's creations after thousands of years)
She had danced around the questions because she didn't have an answer.
She was a vampire. It was a simple fact. She'd been one long enough, been around other vampires almost exclusively for long enough, that she didn't even think about it. It was as much a part of her as being a Nord. But she… wasn't like a lot of other vampires.
She was a Daughter of Coldharbour. It had never been her choice, though; she had never liked to dwell on it, because she had never had the option of being anything different - she had thought she never would. She'd grown up in Volkihar Castle, with only occasional excursions elsewhere, and then came the… ritual. Thereafter, she'd continued to have her every need provided for: slaves were brought in and used as… 'cattle', they'd called them. She had hated it. But it was that or starve, and she was not one to resort to useless suicide.
She knew of the lives of other, lesser vampires; those who prowled the night, stealing away victims from the cities, creating lairs in dingy caves and enthralling hapless mortals to assist them in their efforts before eventually, inevitably, being hunted and cut down.
She had never 'hunted' anyone down, as such, except for once or twice, when she was newly blooded.
That… didn't mean she was any better - but she'd never considered herself any better, just different. She wanted to be different, wanted to distance herself from the others in the Court who embraced their nature. She rationalised that that was why she'd defended herself so sharply.
Truth be told, she couldn't decide whether she had latched onto Valios because he was the first person she'd seen after she'd escaped, or… for some other reason. That she wasn't aware of.
Inwardly, she groaned at herself. All those years of avoiding and sidestepping courtly intrigue through her wit and deception, and she was completely and utterly out of sorts, out of her depth, and she suspected her confusion had some of its roots in her alluring companion.
Her mouth twitched. She had not consciously used such an adjective to describe him. That was ridiculous. She spared a glance for him, walking ahead of her parallel to the main trail. It was night, but the moonlight was enough to see by. Well, for him, presumably; she had no such issues of vision in the dark.
She had… observed him while she'd healed him. He was, she granted begrudgingly, well-formed. Striking, in the right light. Really, the half-Nord in him very much showed, what with the red-almost-brown long hair that was tied up in a neat bun at the top of his head. Not to mention the rather thick beard. Conditioned as his hair looked, she suspected it still hadn't been cut in a while. Its thickness meant that it was hard to discern his finer facial features.
He had two prominent, matching scars on the left side of his face running from underneath his eye to just above his jaw and another, smaller one splitting his lips. Claw marks, if she had to guess, which made sense considering his vocation.
Considering everyone around her had eyes of varying shades of red or orange, the frigid blue of his certainly caught her gaze more than once, usually while he was speaking to her. He had an intensity to his gaze that matched nearly any vampire she'd ever met.
She resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. Maybe the descriptor of 'alluring' could be allowed. She could be objective, after all, in her acknowledgement of his qualities.
Forcefully, she turned her thoughts to more productive matters.
Thousands of years had passed. Solitude, it seemed, was still a city, as was Morthal, though Morthal had been a fledgeling village when she was around. She knew things had to have changed, however; the trouble was that she had no idea what. Some kind of civil war between the Jarl of Windhelm and this 'Empire'. Evidently Cyrodiil had changed a great deal, in that case. What of the other countries? How many wars had she missed? How had Skyrim changed, geographically? Politically, for that matter?
Valios was wearing armor of a make she'd never seen before, beyond being able to tell that it was steel, same for his sword. How had technology developed in a thousand years? How long had she actually been down there?
"You're thinking too loud. It's distracting" came the unexpected voice of Valios, just ahead of her.
"Distracting you with my inaudible thought process, am I? I'll be sure to tone it down in the future," she snapped like it was instinct.
"How generous." He quipped dryly. She refused to give him the satisfaction of groaning in frustration. Distracting, was she? She could be very distracting. She quickened her pace to then be walking right next to him.
"It has come to my attention," she began, affecting not to notice the annoyed glare he shot her, staring straight ahead, "that there are many questions that I cannot answer. Being as I don't spot any libraries about," she made a show of gesturing to the wilderness around them, "you're my only source of information."
He sighed, longsuffering. "I suppose I condemned myself to this by speaking first, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," she said, smiling brightly with false cheer. He. in turn, made a show of sighing again.
"So be it. Ask away, then." He conceded, and she puffed up at having won the bout with minimal effort.
(He was not, she supposed, actually putting up much of a fight. Perhaps he could sense that she would just keep bothering him and there was very little point in resisting when it was just the two of them on the road)
"What year is it?" She asked immediately.
"Fourth Era, 201," he answered, not looking at her as he spoke.
"Er, right. Fourth era… how long ago was the First Era?" At this, he turned to look at her in surprise.
"The First Era? What year?" He questioned.
"Um…" she considers for a moment. It was difficult to consider what had happened before she had been sealed away; it felt like no time at all had passed to her and yet simultaneously an infinite amount of time had. Not to mention, those last years had been… chaotic.
"240." She decides. "I remember members of the Court talking about someone named Gellir becoming High King and attacking the Dwemer." He stopped walking, staring at her in shock. She felt the urge to fidget under his gaze and resisted, mustering some of that noble-born poise her mother always emanated.
"...The First Era lasted for three-thousand years." Now it was her turn to appear shocked. Three-thousand years!? Her mind shouted.
"A-and the others?" She stammered.
"The Second was… close to a thousand, I think. The Third was only around four-hundred."
"Four-thousand years…" she breathed, turning to stare out into the forest. Almost five. Valios was silent for only a few moments.
"The Dwemer disappeared sometime in the First Era." She snapped to look at him.
"Disappeared?" She asked sharply. "What do you mean, 'disappeared'?" At this, he managed a small smirk.
"If I knew that, I could've made a fortune off of the research." And wasn't that helpful. Fortunately, he added, "No one knows. One of the greatest mysteries of the ages - a lot of people have tried to figure it out. My brethren suspect the involvement of daedra."
Daedra. Right. That made a fair bit of sense - naturally, whenever anything unnatural and awe-inspiring occurred, one of the Princes was usually to blame.
She exhaled, trying to sort through the bombshell he'd dropped. They resumed walking in the meantime. She opened her mouth to speak -
"You should know that I was never particularly studious. I have a basic grasp of history - not the best person for those kinds of questions." She wrinkled her nose.
"You're just saying that so I won't ask you questions." She said. He gave a perfectly innocent shrug. "Well, I have plenty of other questions to ask. You won't get off that easy."
He rolled his eyes. "Ask, then." She hadn't expected immediate capitulation, admittedly, so it took her a moment to think. Unfortunately, all of the questions that sprang to mind involved the man right next to her, so with a mental sigh, she resolved herself to thinking even more about him, something she'd hoped to avoid.
"You mentioned your 'brethren', just then. And… earlier." She said, ambiguously referring to the funeral he'd held. "Do you belong to an Order of vampire hunters?"
His mouth twitched. "Not as such. At least, not exclusively. You know the god Stendarr, yes?" When she nodded, he continued, "In the Second Era, the Crusaders of Stendarr were formed to enforce the Will of Stendarr, protecting the innocent and fighting evil - that sort of thing. After the - well, you wouldn't know what that is. At the beginning of the Fourth Era," he amended, leaving her confused about what she wouldn't know, but still listening, "an extension of the Crusaders, named the Vigilant Order, was created. They took a more proactive approach in hunting down daedra, the undead, and unholy creatures."
"Such as vampires." She said evenly. He cast her a glance, quickly becoming unreadable.
"Such as vampires, yes." He agreed.
"Are you a member of the Crusaders or the Vigilant Order, then?" She asked a few moments later, eager to gloss over the metaphorical mammoth in the room.
"Neither. Or, well, I suppose the Vigilant Order, technically. It is where I was trained. But I am a Paladin of Stendarr. Select members of either Order can be elevated to the rank, given greater autonomy and responsibility." He answered, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"So you must be skilled then, huh?" She pressed. For whatever reason, she was eager for information that made her companion less mysterious.
"Skilled?" He repeated, then scoffed lightly. "Yes. I suppose you could say that." She resisted a frown. He almost sounded bitter about it, but - skills like his were something to be proud of, usually. She'd seen his handiwork firsthand in the crypt: almost a dozen vampires, strange undead creatures and frostbite spiders, alone.
Before she could figure out another, likely more personal question, to ask, he spoke. "What of you? Your family?" She almost reflexively snapped that it was private, but that would be… unfair. She couldn't hope to garner trust with one-sided exchanges.
"My family is… complicated." She managed, which was probably the understatement of the century. Or of the last four thousand years her mind (unhelpfully) supplied.
"I gathered." He sniffed.
What to say about her family? A man and a woman loved each other, and had a daughter. They lived as nobles, and also happened to be vampires. She could picture his expression at such a simple answer, and almost laughed. But it would be wrong, too. They weren't so normal as that implied; being a part of a cult worshipping a Daedric Lord tended to do that. What kind of father would sacrifice his wife and only child to a creature like Molag Bal?
Her father, that's who. And… perhaps her parents loved each other once. Maybe they still did, in the end, in their own, twisted way, but she doubted it. In the end it was power plays and cold shoulders, hidden agendas and a family torn apart. Even she herself in the end was just another piece on the board. The most valuable one, perhaps, but… still just a piece. Her mother cared for her, she knew that, but -
But she had locked her up in a de-facto coffin for four-thousand years. Where had she been? Where was she now?
…was she still alive?
"You're doing it again." He interjected, and she almost started, turning to look at him. "Thinking too loud," he clarified. She pulled a face.
"Are you hiding some sort of mind-reading magic in that beard of yours? Is that why you can 'hear' how loud my thoughts are?" She retorted, and was rewarded when he frowned and reached up to touch his beard.
"...it is long," he conceded, "but my beard is off-limits. No, I can't read your mind," Thank the stars for that, she thought, "but you get a look. Unfocused, glassy-eyed. The silence is deafening." She narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms while they were walking.
"I haven't been able to think for four-thousand years, give a girl a break." She sniffed.
"I suspect you chose not to long before that." he quipped, and she couldn't resist the urge to swat at his arm. "Ow." He muttered and went to rub at the affected spot. "That hurt." She rolled her eyes.
"Don't be a baby. You deserved it." He had. And though she might possess vampiric strength and struck exposed skin, she was barely trying. And plus, his biceps were… rather large…
"Abuse." He proclaimed, affecting to be terribly aggrieved. She snapped out of her thoughts, which were definitely not about the visible muscles on his arms (they were not). "I agree to escort you, and this is the thanks I get? How rude." If she rolled her eyes any harder they would get stuck in her head.
"Physical abuse to go along with your verbal. I haven't insulted you once. Need I bring up the fact that I healed you, as well?" Really, she had the moral high ground on this one.
"You are very lucky that I'm me. Any of my fellows would have killed you by now." He approached the reality of their incredibly strange partnership so casually, it was almost startling. She resolved to treat it in the same way.
"Aren't you special, then?" she said.
"Delusional, I suspect." He returned.
"There it goes again. You'll kill me with your words before long."
"If words could kill, the world would be long dead." He said, which was unexpectedly philosophical. She frowned.
"Are you going to write poetry at me?" Then he too frowned, glancing at her.
"What, like some cheesy novel? I hate to break it to you, but we are the very definition of incompatible." He said, and she spluttered.
"I didn't mean that!" She protested. "Gods, you're incorrigible."
"So you've mentioned." He said, calm as ever. She didn't quite groan, not content to give him the satisfaction, but she did cross her arms again. She'd only ever seen him even slightly unruffled when he'd been hysterically laughing at her, and when he'd been shocked at his not-dead state after waking up. The most she got now was frowns and humor so dry it could absorb the Abecean Sea and still kill a snail on contact.
"What are we doing once we get to Morthal?" She asked after a short stretch of land in silence.
"Resupplying." He answered. "I'm going to see if I can't get a haircut. One of the vampires in the Crypt almost managed to grab my beard," he scowled into the empty air at the memory and she snickered. He ignored her. "We should get there before first light. Morthal signifies the beginning of the swamplands, which we will be going around to get to Solitude. Once we're there, I can sleep in an actual bed. I suppose we'll have to find a coffin for you." Now it was her turn to scowl.
"You do realise the only difference between me and you is magical, right?" She protested, and he snapped to her with a look that almost halted her in its intensity.
"I doubt that very much," he said quietly, and turned ahead, saying no more.
She got the feeling she'd touched a nerve. Given that he was a part of a religious order who hunted down beings just like her, his beliefs were probably deep-rooted. That was troublesome.
Or… not. She didn't know why she was compelled to prove him wrong. Just like she didn't know why she'd healed him in that crypt. She had needed - still needed, in fact - his help, but they'd gotten along just fine thus far. Sort of. He was a temporary companion; not even a companion, truly, just a… a traveling acquaintance. Once they reached Volkihar Castle, her father would reward him and/or turn him away and she'd never see him again.
And that… she -
- didn't know how to feel about that. So, naturally, her solution was to not think about it.
They walked the rest of the way to Morthal in silence.
At the first inkling of torchlights in the distance, she drew up her hood. She had not fed in some time (and, oh stars did that bear thinking about, because she definitely needed to) so her vampiric features were more pronounced. Her eyes wouldn't glow too fiercely, especially less noticeable in torchlight, but best not to take any chances. She doubted Valios would take too kindly to being chased out of a town for escorting a vampire. It probably wasn't the kind of image he wished to cultivate.
Mentally, she tried to picture the kind of image they made together, and was surprised to find that it wasn't that outlandish. Excepting the direction they'd come from, it wouldn't be too hard to look at them and peg them as a woman, probably a noble, and her bodyguard. Valios certainly fit the part of 'menacing presence', and with her high-quality clothing, she definitely fit the part of nobility. Not to mention the fact that she was technically a princess.
She had never visited Morthal in her time, never had a reason to, so she had no inclination if it had changed over time or not. Probably; four-thousand years was a long time (so she kept unintentionally reminding herself), especially for a village. Valios had mentioned swamplands, which made sense. Morthal was probably built on fishing, then.
A helmeted guard in a leather brigandine was leaning against the first building on the outskirts of the town, clearly having been on shift for some time. His torch was placed on a sconce just above him, and he dipped his head minutely at their approach.
"Hello there," came Valios' voice next to her, its suddenness reminding her that they'd not spoken for a few hours, "could you point me to the nearest inn? We've been traveling for some time now and would like to rest."
The guard gave them a cursory look (or maybe he didn't, his helmet hid pretty much all of his features) before nodding and leaning to point around the corner down the road. "Straight down, you'll see it on the first left. The Moorside Inn, it's called."
"Thank you, friend." He said brightly, and she had to avoid giving him a Look at the change in tone. Maybe it was just because he only ever spoke to her when he thought she was in need of dry wit, but it sounded pitifully unreal to her. The guard, oblivious, just nodded and waved them along.
Still silent, they walked in accordance with the directions given, and sure enough, a torch highlighted the swinging sign outside of what could only be an inn. Valios leading the way, they stepped inside, and immediately were struck with the sudden warmth of the heart in the center of the room.
She hadn't even realised she was cold until she was faced with warmth. It was one of those things nobody considered about being technically 'dead'; the lack of body heat. She could still feel changes in temperature, but they tended to affect her less, and she tended to be more comfortable in the cold - very beneficial for a climate like Skyrim, which was freezing more often than not.
Even so, the warmth was nice, unexpectedly so, because it had been a very long time indeed that she had felt a hearth like this. Since vampires had no need for it, hearths were mainly only aesthetic in Volkihar Castle. Her father kept one in his office, for example - and the forge, she supposed.
"Do you have any rooms available?" Valios asked the night shift innkeep. Serana couldn't withhold a minute frown as she saw her. She… looked like one of the Elven races - a Chimer, maybe, with those soft angles, but her skin was the color of dark ash, and her eyes - well, her eyes could easily be mistaken for a vampire's, red as they were. She glanced at Valios, but he didn't seem confused at all.
"Aye, we've a few," she spoke, looking in danger of commandeering one for herself. Her accent was unfamiliar too. More things Serana had clearly missed - an entirely new species? The innkeep glanced between the pair of them. "Just one?" She questioned.
Valios stiffened. "Ah, I - er, no. That is, two rooms. Separate." She managed to hide her incredulous look at his reaction, and if his armor (and his height) didn't hide his neck from her, she might've even called his blush. She noted this and filed it away for later.
The innkeep could clearly see his face, however, and gave them a small smile. "As you like. That'll be twenty septims." Another frown. Septims? Gods, nothing was making sense. A currency change, too? Four-thousand years was an ungodly amount of time. Valios just nodded and reached for his belt to withdraw a pouch, and counted out twenty pieces - clearly gold, judging by the way the light hit them.
"Those two rooms on the left, loves." She pointed. "Enjoy your rest." She glanced between the two of them again. Valios still had the same tension in his posture as he said his thanks and moved them towards their rooms.
"Valios," she hissed just as he was about to hurriedly abandon her for one of the rooms.
"What?" He said, turning at the doorway.
"I have questions." She said, still quiet, trying to convey the need for privacy. He twitched.
"Must they be answered now?" He said, clearly hoping that was not the case. She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a flat look. He sighed. "Fine. Come." He nodded his head and opened the door to one of the rooms. She followed, closing the door behind her.
"Okay, first of all, why are you so tense?" She queried before he could say anything. He was tense as a board, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I had hoped to retire to the privacy of my own room. I'm tired after walking for several hours and clearing a crypt, you see." He stated, and she narrowed her eyes, remembering his reaction just a few moments ago.
"You're not a prude, are you?" She raised a sculpted brow. He straightened, as though offended.
"No, I am not." He plainly denied, and she almost gasped.
"Oh my gods, you are! Did they make you take a vow of chastity or something? Does the mere mention of sex make you feel heretical?" She mercilessly pressed, and was rewarded by the faint appearance of a blush to her enhanced eyesight creeping up his neck and what was visible of his cheeks.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," he snapped. "Now, did you have something actually important to say or can I pass out without being in danger of bleeding out for once?" She smiled broadly, just managing not to laugh triumphantly. The man was all but unflappable, except for the mention of sexuality or things near it. The innkeep had clearly insinuated that she thought they'd be taking a room together; she had ammunition.
She also had actual concerns, however, and her smile quickly faded. "Yes, I don't exist merely to make your existence miserable, actually." Not yet she thought. "Now, I've been doing the math recently and I've discovered that I've not eaten for around four-thousand, six hundred years."
The blush faded rapidly at the change in topic. "You haven't fed," he truncated, and his eyes narrowed. "You agreed not to -"
"I didn't say I was going to find an innocent villager and bite them in the neck in an alley, I'm not a terrible person, thank you." She interrupted. "I was hoping you would have an easy solution. Any bandits nearby, undesirables that don't make the world a better place?" He frowned.
"I've only been in Skyrim for a few weeks, you know. I don't have a system of information. What about animals?" He asked.
"...what about animals?" She returned, playing dumb. She was rewarded with a flat look.
"Deer have plenty of blood in them, and you're fast enough to catch one with a dagger." He reasoned, and she all-but groaned. "What? Blood is blood."
"No, Valios, blood is not blood. Imagine you're in a village with freshly roasted chickens walking about. An animal's blood is like… stale bread, in comparison."
The tension in his posture multiplied, and one of his hands clenched into a fist. At this, she also tensed, and took a reflexive step back, alarms bells beginning to go off in her head.
"Serana," he said, almost through clenched teeth, "refrain from referring to innocent people as roasted chickens." Whereas before he was detached, almost as though he was obliged to engage with her, the ice in his eyes was so cold it burned, and she felt the urge to run. She ducked her head.
"Right. I'll find an animal, or - or something. Goodnight." She bowed out of the room without waiting for any kind of response, hurriedly closing the door behind her and heading for the entrance, pointedly ignoring the innkeep shooting her a confused glance.
Stupid, stupid girl. That's what she was. She didn't know what she was thinking, harboring any kind of assumption that someone who belonged to an order dedicated to hunting undead could do anything more than tolerate her at best, despise her at worst. Of course being a vampire had never been her choice, but of course nobody else would care about that, least of all him. His closest friends had all been killed and she was trying to - what, be friends with him? She was just clinging to the first real person she'd found, and it so happened that it was the worst person it could've been.
The 'definition of incompatible', he'd said. She should've kept those words in mind. She took solace in the lack of sunlight, heading around the back of the inn to avoid any patrolling guards, and tried to distract herself looking for food.
AN: yey
fun fact: the actual contents of the story in this chapter, excluding the author's note, are exactly 5,000 words.
poor serana, confused girl.
the exact date of her being sealed away is technically not confirmed (one of the writers said the Interregnum in the Second Era, but this is, to put it plainly, impossible). The biggest clue is her being surprised at Cyrodiil being the seat of an Empire; The First Empire/Alessian Empire was formed in 1E 243, which is, from where I put her, three years after her being sealed away. When she was around, the Ayleid Empire was on the verge of collapse. she's never heard of the Septim dynasty either, because that's the beginning of the Third Era.
The Dwemer would disappear in ~1E 700, to the befuddlement of everyone else. Another tidbit is, since that's when Serana was sealed away, she's never actually seen a Dunmer before. The Chimer are the predecessors to that species. Interestingly, during the Battle of Red Mountain, which was between the Chimer and the Dwemer, it only ended because all of the Dwemer on the field simply disappeared (along with every other member of their race).
After the Tribunal became gods and betrayed Azura, Azura cursed the entire race with skin like ash and red eyes. Because dark skin is... a punishment, i guess? take that how you want lmao
naturally, a-n-g-s-t. valios is, as one might expect, in a difficult position emotionally, struggling with his faith and the loss of many of his close friends. serana has come into a world that, she is finding, is completely different from the one she left, and she has no one to go through it with except this fucked up dude who is obligated to hate her and can't decide whether he should or not.
i love every bit of it, this is the most naturally writing has ever come to me. honestly, these two lovable idiots just write themselves. as always, feel free to review.
cheers!
~ylri