Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandoms: Red vs. Blue, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Characters: Agent Carolina (Red vs. Blue), Agent York (Red vs. Blue), Agent North Dakota (Red vs. Blue), Agent South Dakota (Red vs. Blue), The Meta | Agent Maine, Agent Connecticut (Red vs. Blue), Butch Flowers | Agent Florida
Additional Tags: wash is only mentioned tbh, Non-Graphic Violence, Unfortunate Implications, specifically why a necromancer might have an all-female cast of minions and keep one in his bedroom, GFY
Additional Notes: Originally written for the "Freelancers" square of the 2017 RvB Bingo Wars.
"I told you to duck," North commented, unruffled by York's continued and vocal outrage as they began to look around in earnest. "I don't understand why you're so mad—it's barely even a graze."
Carolina breathed very deliberately—slow and even, just the way Wash had shown her—but it did little to block out York's exasperated voice shouting, "Of course, I'm mad! You shot me!" or the ensuing squabble. She could recite the key points of each man's argument by rote at that point, she'd heard similar enough ones since joining the Dawnguard. The two always managed to find something to bicker about.
She let their sniping fade into the background as she searched the icy throne room of Yngvild, hunting for their prize. Her gaze skittered across the rapidly-cooling corpse of the necromancer who'd taken up residence in the barrow, as well as the ghastly remains of his… experiments.
"North," she said sharply, cutting through the increasingly loud voices of both men. "Scout down that hall to the left. Make sure there aren't any draugr, or more of these… specters lurking around."
The archer nodded easily and headed off while Carolina turned towards their resident thief. "York, search this room for the hammer while I check out the one through that door." Her eyes flickered over to the madman who'd rule over Yngvild since being run out of Dawnstar, if the journals in her pack were to be believed. "And the body, while you're at it. We don't want anything dangerous that he might have been carrying to fall into the wrong hands."
"Your wish is my command," York replied with his usual cheer and headed over to rifle through the dead Altmer's pockets.
Satisfied, Carolina moved up the stairs and past the throne, scooping up a soul gem and obscure-looking book of magic that Wash might appreciate as she went. The priest might hear the voice of one of the Divines in his head, or he might be as mad as the Aldmeri necromancer, but he was on their side and vicious in a fight. She saw no harm in bringing him a couple of toys.
The iron door behind the throne lead to a bedchamber, or a room that had been repurposed as such, as evidenced by the fur-covered bed and—Carolina blanched.
Another specter lit up the room with its otherworldly blue glow. Like the one in the throne room, it was the spirit of a young woman. And she was reclining on the bed.
With a fortifying breath, Carolina drew Dawnbreaker from its sheath and crept forward, but she was quickly noticed. The spectral woman drew a dagger, but a slice to the stomach and a thrust into her heart made quick work of her; like her sister in servitude, her form dispersed and coalesced into a puddle on the stone floor.
Carolina spared a moment of silence for whoever the poor girl had been in life before searching the room. She found a few useful potions on a shelf, precious gems and a fat pouch of septims in a chest, a magical staff that Wash might also enjoy, and an unusual red gem in a golden case. Much to her dismay, however, there was no warhammer carved with magical sigils. With a last grimace at the room, she exited and hoped York had more luck.
Stepping back into the open, Carolina blinked to see their comrades had finished clearing the rest of the barrow and joined them. York, casually peeking into a large urn by the back wall, spoke with the Companion leader, North's own sister, while Butch looked over his scimitar for nicks and Maine leaned against a stone pillar, buffing his wolf-shaped gauntlets.
She nodded to the last two, who responded with a pleasant smile and an assessing look respectively, before making her way over to her own second-in-command. "I take it you found the hammer," Carolina called, striding across the cold stone floors. York nodded, so she turned to South. "Did you have any trouble clearing the place out?"
South snorted. "Please," she said with a feral grin, hefting up her ghostly-green mace. "Just a few draugr and those shades. That what you're here for?"
"It is." Carolina nodded at the warhammer now holstered at York's back. "The lost Rune Hammer of the Dawnguard. Where's Connie?"
"Sent her to catch up with my brother," South replied, jerking her chin in the direction Carolina had sent him earlier. The movement lit up the room for a split-second, the stones in her golden-bronze circlet catching a beam of light and reflecting it back in a thousand shards of glowing blue. It must have been worth a fortune, the crown that radiated power and beauty, but the one time she'd asked North why his sister didn't sell it, he'd just laughed.
With all the trouble it took the get the damn thing, she'd better not, he'd said. He waved away further questions, and Carolina didn't feel it was worth it to pry, but damn if she didn't want to hear the rest of that story at some point. It was bound to be interesting.
A few moments of easy chattering later, footsteps echoed through the snowy fortress and two brown-clad figures jogged up the incline. "Uh, boss?" North called, sounding unnerved. "You're going to want to see this."
"Found something worse than a necromancer?" York joked, twirling a brilliant green jewel between his fingers, but followed the archer and mage through the glacial passage without hesitation. He, of course, immediately started in on the frigid temperatures, but seeing as the armor he'd chosen at Fort Dawnguard had neither pauldrons nor sleeves, it didn't earn much sympathy.
Maine, in true Orcish fashion, cuffed the back of his head and told him to stop complaining.
Bypassing a window, they came to a stunned halt at the threshold of the room at the end of the hall. No less than half a dozen bodies—all young women of various races, all in various states of undress—lay scattered around the room. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
"Alright," Carolina croaked, blinking rapidly and trying to regain her composure. She'd seen a lot since joining the 'Guard, and even more during the Great War, but nothing quite like that grisly scene. "We—obviously we can't just leave them like this."
Various noises of assent greeted that statement.
Three of the young women were Nords, but there were also two Dunmer, two Bretons, and an Orsimer lass. Without much discussion, they carefully grouped the bodies by race and placed them in a row perpendicular to the wall. That done, Carolina looked at the twins for what to do next; Dunmer and Bretons practiced cremation, and Maine had stared very hard at his kinswoman before removing her jewelry and placing her next to her cousins, but North and South were the only Nords between both groups. She didn't want to disrespect any funeral rites they might have, but they could hardly hike back to Dawnstar with two corpses.
Brother and sister barely had to glance at each other before closing the distance between the Nord women and the others. North spoke a few solemn words over the bodies before stepping back and South, the steel scales of her armor glinting in the low light, slowly brought up both hands and set the bodies alight with a muttered spell.
After the ash had settled, the two groups filed down the last corridor and up the wooden spiral staircase, much more subdued than they had been upon arrival. Seeing the depths to which some mages would sink in order to further their own mad goals had that effect, Carolina mused. She could remember what her own father had done in his grief when they lost her mother, and they weren't fond memories.
She managed a halfhearted smile at York's victorious crowing, when it turned out that past the iron door at the top of the stairs was a lever to a secret door set into the rock. North amiably handed over a modest pouch of septims to the tune of his sister's mocking as they headed for the barrow's exit. They each either avoided the sight of the ghostly remains altogether or stared defiantly at every one they passed.
Everyone dealt with death, particularly violent death, in their own way and Carolina knew better than to judge Connie for the hands that twitched towards her daggers or Butch for his hardened stare.
Stepped back out into the late-morning light brought flurries of snow, bone-chilling winds, and even more belly-aching from York. With a tacit agreement to stick together at least back to town, the two groups hiked back down to where North had carved a path of solid ice in the water between Yngvild and the mainland.
The second trip was almost worse than then first as the winds picked up and the snowbanks gained in height, but eventually they crested a hill and were met with the pathetically welcome sight of Dawnstar. Much to the menfolk's very vocal appreciation, both Companions and Dawnguard headed as one for the Windpeak Inn: Carolina because she knew she wouldn't hear the end of it if they had to brace the carriage-ride back to less glacial pastures without first defrosting, and South because Connie murmured about having business with the court wizard over at White Hall.
With their latest adventure over and done with, they all settled down in front of the fire with food and drink, and began to socialize in earnest. Nursing her own cup of mead, Carolina observed how well the two groups seemed to get along and toasted North's suggestion to ask his sister's organization for assistance.
Perhaps they could work together again in the future.