Chapter 9: Gentler Than Moonlight, Warmer Than Sunset
A/N: Welcome back everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next may take a little longer to write, as I'm quite busy with assignments and uni work. Sorry for any delays!
"I get the feeling I'm doing this wrong," said Serana, holding her arms out.
Vafiél couldn't help but laugh. "Astute observation," he chuckled. Her robes were backwards and inside-out. "You do realise you're supposed to drape that over something else… for a wedding, or some other special occasion."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. What am I supposed to wear, wise elf?" Serana asked, lightly mocking him.
He shook his head, still laughing, and went over to the wardrobe. "For casual days and general errands, we wore wraps like this belted at the waist. The height of fashion back then."
"I expect nothing less from you," Serana said with a grin as he helped her into the long sleeves.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he said indignantly.
"You're a little… uh…" She giggled as she searched for words.
"A little what, exactly?" he prompted her, brows raised.
Serana bit her lip, laughing awkwardly. "Effeminate."
"…Effeminate." Vafiél folded his arms. "I do believe this is the second time you've brought my masculinity into question," he pointed out, amused. "Should I go and punch a wall? Or perhaps I need to go and yell at a bear to prove I'm a man. Would that make things clearer for you?"
"No, no. I'm sure by elven standards, you're actually very masculine," she joked. He must have made a face, because she burst into laughter again.
"Yes, actually," he scoffed, "I am. Few could resist my rugged charm."
"Rugged charm? You're about as rugged as Elisif the Fair!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, I'd love to show you what our elven lords looked like. I doubt you'd be able to tell the men and women apart if you think I'm effeminate!" he teased, laughing when she rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," Serana droned. "Now, tell me honestly; do I look as stupid as I think I look?"
Vafiél took a step back and observed her appearance. Short black hair slightly tousled, vibrant amber eyes, pale skin, and a droll smile behind which she hid how much she wanted his affection and validation. A soft sigh escaped him. If someone told him just a few months ago that a vampire's smile would make his heart stutter, that he'd be afraid to lose her, that he'd lay awake for hours making sure she didn't suffer a nightmare, well… He'd have killed the man, for he'd gone insane.
Now it seemed Vafiél was the one losing his sanity.
"You look beautiful, Serana," he whispered. "As always."
She exhaled through her nose and looked down, bashful, before stepping closer and holding his hands. He was powerless to resist her magnetism.
Vafiél watched her curiously, wondering what she was thinking. That clouded look in her eyes never turned out to be a good thing.
Finally, she met his gaze. "Will you tell me what happened to Eleana?" she requested, tentatively.
His throat ran dry and shards of steel pricked him from the inside out. "You don't know what you're asking of me," he rasped, dread and fear creeping up his spine.
"I do." Her hold on his hands tightened. "I can help you heal, if you let me. Please, Vafiél."
He took a deep breath, shuddering. "Come with me," Vafiél whispered shakily, "and I'll tell you."
An unfriendly chill pervaded the night air, the wind seeming like it wanted to push them back inside. Still, they pressed forward. Serana followed Vafiél over the hard, snowy ground, barely more than a game trail. From the heather and thorn of the underbrush, glints of nocturnal eyes followed them, and small things skittered out of sight. An owl hooted overhead.
Foreboding stole her footsteps as they moved quietly through the woods. Old pines watched with judgement and vague dislike as she passed beneath their snow-heavy arms. You don't belong here, they seemed to say. Serana agreed.
Her regret only increased every time she glanced at Vafiél and his anxious, stony expression. She hated having to put him through this, but she had to know. She had to help him move on.
They came to a glade and she inhaled sharply. In its centre stood a statue of an elven woman, made entirely of one uniform diamond. Her serene upturned face watched the stars with quiet longing, and in her dainty hands were placed sprigs of golden flowers. Long hair streamed aside her, stirred by wind unseen. The monument stood atop her tomb, on which was inscribed:
Here lies Eleana of the Snow Elves
Priestess of Auriel and Daughter of Sunlight,
Ever untouched by the currents of Time
Now at last, with our Sovereign does she Reunite.
Serana glanced at Vafiél and found him kneeling at the statue's base, whispering in a language she didn't understand with an agonised expression. She sat at his side and managed to catch his gaze.
"When the Betrayed assaulted the Vale, Eleana and I escaped," he said, his voice grief-roughened. "We didn't know how we'd survive. The Nords were on a genocidal campaign, the Dwemer couldn't be trusted, and the Chantry wasn't safe anymore." He looked away as despair clawed at her. "She was… devastated beyond belief. She cried near constantly, and when she wasn't crying, she was praying." Vafiél took a shaky breath.
"It only took a few hours before the Nords started hunting us. We evaded them for two days, but they ambushed us on the third night, and six strong men were more than enough to overwhelm two frail, exhausted elves.
"When I woke up, Eleana was screaming. I still hear those screams. She shrieked and cried until I couldn't tell her voice apart from the north wind. They defiled her every night and tortured me relentlessly for a week. There was no end in sight."
"Oh, Vafiél…" Serana whispered, but didn't dare touch him. Tears pricked her eyes.
He was trembling uncontrollably now, his sentences stopping and restarting with great effort. "I did the only thing within my power to stop them from raping and beating her. I… I killed her. Strangled her to death with my bare hands. She died thinking I had gone insane and betrayed her. I cheated fate. And that dawn, the Nords all dropped dead."
"Why?" she rasped, frowning.
Vafiél met her gaze with such despair it cut her to the quick. "Eleana had poisoned their food that night, and we could've both escaped in the morning."
Silence fell over the glade. Serana shook her head, wordless. She choked on a sob and covered her mouth, unable to stop herself from crying.
"When I realised what I had done, I decided I would take my life," Vafiél said, dead and despondent, like he wasn't even aware of his tears. "As far as I was concerned, I didn't deserve to live, and the sooner I was dead, the better off the world would be. I found a cliff not far from the Nords' camp and stepped off the edge without a second thought."
"But… You're still here," she whispered through her tears, confused.
He sighed. "The impact shattered my body. I felt it, and I was relieved to die. Then… when I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a great golden dragon radiating sunlight. He said, Few are those arrogant enough to interfere with Time's flow, and foolish are those who think they can change it. You are both.
"I didn't know what to think. I'd gone most of my life ignoring the devout and thinking Auriel a lax god for his lack of interference, only to end up in front of him when I died. It turns out I was the idiot for meddling in things I didn't understand." Vafiél rubbed his eyes frustratedly.
"Auriel chastised me, but he also comforted me; he was cryptic, but he told me I had a vast and far-reaching destiny, and my life was not mine to take. He told me to live and fulfil my role in the world, as punishment for my terrible actions, and once I had given everything I had to offer, my atonement would end. Then I could choose: live forever on Nirn, or ascend to Aetherius in eternal bliss with Auriel. It… made more sense when I found out I was Dragonborn." He wiped his face. "That's all of it."
"I'm so sorry," Serana rasped, moving closer and holding him. "I… I couldn't even have imagined something so horrible." She had a feeling she'd ache over this for a long time.
"This must change how you see me," Vafiél mumbled into her hair.
She leaned back and met his gaze. "Your past isn't who you are, Vafiél," Serana told him. "It's your actions and the choices you've made every day since surviving that fall that show who you are." She managed a sad smile. "And for the record… I think you've shown the world how wonderful you are a hundred times over."
Vafiél tilted his head down and wept into her shoulder until they both were calm.
"Vafiél, let's go home," Serana pleaded, helping him up. Hand in hand, they trudged through the snow, back to the cottage.
The world was awash in ultramarine, the first light of dawn, when they made it back to the cottage. Serana shrugged off the thick elven robe and slipped under the covers in her cotton shift, snuggling up to her sleepy companion. She smiled contentedly to herself when he gently pulled her closer and sighed into her hair.
Hunger made her stir in the afternoon. Serana sighed and opened her bleary eyes to realise Vafiél was already awake. "Hi," she mumbled, amusing herself with how stupid it sounded.
Vafiél laughed through his nose and met her gaze. "Hi," he responded, smoothing her hair back. Concern furrowed his brow. "Your eyes…"
"I know," she said regrettably. "It's not too bad, yet."
"Waiting until you're starving isn't a good idea," Vafiél pointed out, quietly.
Serana averted her gaze, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I don't… I don't like this any more than you do."
"Hush," he soothed her. "It's alright." As he sat up, so did she, shuffling closer. She took no more from him than she needed. Hoping to ease the pain and discomfort, she left a light kiss over his swift pulse and whispered, "Thank you."
Vafiél visibly shuddered as he healed the wound. The air between them sizzled and shimmered with desire barely restrained. His fingertips feather-light at her nape and his touch at her waist, his uneven breathing, the warmth of his skin; they woke feelings she thought she'd never experience. After being offered to Molag Bal she'd discounted the possibility of ever wanting someone.
I guess I was wrong about that, too, she thought distractedly.
"Serana," said Vafiél, his voice uncharacteristically hoarse. His expression reminded her of the night he'd attacked Isran and how he'd stared out at the lake, trembling with frustration. You mean more to me than that, he'd said then. Looking at him now, she could tell he was thinking something similar.
Now wasn't the time to be making hasty decisions. It relieved her to experience his sensibility and restraint; she knew he respected her and tried to preserve her dignity where possible, yet it still surprised her. She hoped someday it wouldn't be a surprise anymore.
By unspoken agreement, they went separate ways to cool off and clear their heads. Vafiél left, presumably to the kitchen, while Serana stayed in his room to tidy up and snoop around a little.
It wasn't often that Vafiél took the time to sit and pray. He'd never been one for routine devotion—the obligation took the meaning out of the action—and he could direct his thoughts to Auriel without the need for a shrine and a ritual. Still, he doubted there were many shrines left intact that could confer a blessing. Best make the most of it before they had to leave.
Footsteps in the hall brought him out of his reverie. Vafiél glanced over his shoulder, feeling his heart warm when he saw her. "Serana," he murmured. "Did you need something?"
"No, no. I didn't mean to disturb you," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Sorry."
"It's alright," he assured her, standing and meeting her halfway as she approached him. "What's wrong?"
She laughed quietly through her nose and looked away. "Nothing. Just wanted to know what you were up to."
Vafiél couldn't help the grin that escaped him. "Subtle as an earthquake, Serana," he murmured, embracing her when she moved closer. "I missed you, too."
Silence lapsed between them. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze and ensnared him in her glowing eyes. The moment stretched long and taut and his heart raced like the wings of a hummingbird as she stared at him, softer than moonlight, warmer than sunset; wordless, and yet brimming with emotion. His breathing stuttered as her soft exhale mingled with his own. He looked at her and found the answer to the unasked question that had buzzed in his mind like a stubborn wasp. He saw her, and he knew.
He kissed her with passion and hardship and history and consequence. He kissed her not with force, but with intensity; not with haste, but with urgency. And when she melted into him, tangling his hair between her fingers and pressing ever closer, he kissed her again, breathless and longing.
For a burning moment he met her gaze. Before he could say anything, she crashed her lips to his, harder than he ever would've dared to. When they finally broke apart, panting for breath, he thought his knees would give way.
"Serana," he rasped. The only thing he could think to say was her name. No words—in the common tongue or any other—could convey how he felt.
"I know," she whispered, to his relief. "Let's just… sit down."
When they settled amongst the soft blankets on his bed, he drew her close and kissed her hair with a quiet sigh. "Stay with me," he mumbled. "Don't leave. I don't want to be alone again."
"You won't be. I promise," she murmured, kissing his collarbone.
He lay there with her until the birds heralded morning and pale golden light sent them to sleep.
She woke at sunset, unsure if she'd actually slept or not. Her memories—or perhaps her dreams—were a haze of warmth, affection, and dim flashes of light. She was certain only of two things: Vafiél hadn't let her go yet, and she had kissed him more times than she cared to count.
Could she be blamed for basking in his attention? She questioned whether her father ever loved her, and Valerica only saw a potential successor in her. Perhaps she had no authority to decide whether the emotions between her and Vafiél were love or something else, but whatever they were, she didn't want them to end. She didn't want this to end.
She looked up at his peaceful face, his fond smile waking her own. "Hi," Serana whispered.
"Hi," he mumbled with a quiet laugh, fingers dusting her cheek.
"Elves are music-people, right?" she asked, absently touching the scar on his brow.
Vafiél blinked. "I… suppose, yes."
"Will you sing me a song before we leave?"
"A song? What kind of song?"
She laughed through her nose. "A nice one."
Vafiél hummed quietly. "Alright. I should still have a lute around here, somewhere…" Amusement danced in his pale eyes. "Needless to say, I will be very rusty, and I never claimed to be a good singer."
"You're good enough for me," she murmured, and warmed when he kissed her forehead.
She watched as he rose from the bed, facing away from her with his head turned to the side. Slats of light fell on his back but his noble profile was cast in shadow. He was power itself. Anyone could see it. Beneath the lined tapestry of his pale skin lived old bones, weary muscles, and the soul of a dragon just waiting to burst free and lay waste to his enemies.
She knew it in the way he flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, the way the sound of his voice could make mountains tremble and the fiercest warriors quail. She saw it in the way he ran, like he would take flight at any moment, like he wanted to take flight, like he knew what it was to see the world from the sky and it had been stolen from him. His eyes could turn from dewdrops to shards of ice within the space of a heartbeat.
Yet when he fought, that savage rage was nowhere to be seen; it was like water flowed through him with every movement, every precise step was a current of energy ending with his freezing hands that turned the water into a weapon. He would bend and writhe, almost a dance, like he was merely a conduit of something far greater, some ancient force older than even he was.
She sat on the edge of the bed and laid her fingertips on the thin white scars, trailing them around his waist and back again, where the Nords had whipped and tortured him. She found his flaws and gave them tenderness. She kissed his spine and he smiled down at her for a moment before slipping away.
"Where are you going?" Serana asked him, tilting her head.
"To the kitchen," he answered, a note of curiosity in his tone. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. Sorry. I don't mean to pry," she said quickly.
Vafiél sat at her side and touched her hand. "You're nervous," he murmured, watching her softly. "Can I ask why?"
Serana averted her gaze, hesitating, even though she knew she could trust him with the truth. He sat patiently while she sorted her feelings into words. Finally, she said, "I'm trying to figure out who I am and what this all means for us. These things are new for me… I don't know if they are for you. You seem to be handling this better than I am. I'm just… not sure where part of me ends and part of you begins. Does that… make any sense?"
Vafiél lingered over that for a few quiet moments, taking time to think before he spoke. She'd always liked that about him. "You're still you, regardless of whether I'm here or not," he told her, gently. "And when we're apart, a part of me belongs to you, but I'm still me without it."
She nodded slowly. "I think I understand."
"As for past experiences," he continued, glancing away, "I haven't had any this serious. When I was young and stupid I got involved with a woman, but to put it plainly, that was sex and nothing more. I didn't feel anything for her. Aerindor lectured me harshly for my immaturity and I never saw her again." Vafiél tentatively met her gaze. "Nothing I've ever known has made me feel this way."
Her lips parted, softly. She must have looked afraid, because he stroked her hair to soothe her.
"We can work this out together," Vafiél murmured, gently. "You have nothing to fear from me. I promise. And… If I ever do something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me."
"I will," Serana whispered. "Thank you, Vafiél."
His smile was sad. "Don't thank me for treating you the way you always should've been treated, Serana."
Tears pricked at her eyes and she looked away. "It means a lot."
"I know." He drew her into his arms and kissed her hair. A long silence ensued before he quietly added, "We should leave tonight."
Serana didn't say anything at first. She dreaded leaving this place, this sheltered bubble of warmth and safety; she knew the cruelty and harshness of the world, and not even Vafiél could shield her from it. But neither could they stay and allow her father to carry out the Tyranny of the Sun. No. They had to end this, once and for all.
"Let's start packing, then," Serana said finally, meeting Vafiél's gaze. They shared a sweet kiss that ended too soon, then separated to prepare. At moonrise, they left the cottage, and she followed Vafiél on their journey to each of the wayshrines. She couldn't shake the feeling they were being watched.