Chapter XVII: Tears of the Undying

Azrael aligned both hands on the wings of the iron portal, flattening the palms against the uneven surface. He gave a first, relatively soft push, and the two began to move with a hiss that came from below, where they scratched the ground. The two thicker bands that sealed the two extensions together moved, producing a sharp grazing sound as they separated. He kept on pushing until the door completely opened. Among all the official entryways into palaces and citadels he had seen, that one was by far the smallest. It was almost the size of a normal door. The gates of Dragonsreach needed to barely open to allow the passage to one person. The Blue Palace was more in keeping with the delicate and refined tradition of the Empire and less with the grandiose but sober architecture that prevailed in the rest of the province.

The Dragonborn stepped inside, the first thing he felt being his eyes sizzling and adjusting to the sparse light as opposed to the almost complete darkness of the outside. He caught small light sources within his field of vision, and as he looked he saw that most of them were candles. This place is seldom this dark, which means… His gaze raised and pointed towards the ceiling, where the iron chandelier hung from the hinges keeping in fixed to the slabs. The candles on it were unlit. During the evening, that was what illumined the entrance as well as the small section where the Jarl's seat was placed. She is here, he thought, not doubting the words of the guardsmen he had interrogated, but she could be on her way out. And not without reason.

The rest of that section of the entrance was deserted. The kitchen was empty and without any light, not even the one of the fireplace. There was no one other than Serana and himself in sight, and even the upper level was only barely lit. A few candles could have produced that light; perhaps a few torches stuck to the wall, but that was it. Otherwise, beside the lack of activity, everything seemed in order. The plants in the small fountain overlooked by the small balcony on top of the forked set of stairs were well kept, and the water was flowing calmly and making a pleasant background sound.

Azrael put together what information he had, and what he thought could be safely deducted. There are very few people here, he reasoned, listening and hearing some solitary footsteps coming from upper floor. Two pairs were softer and one more metallic, as if wearing heavy greaves. The kitchen is empty, but this is the time in the evening when Elisif has supper. And she adheres to routine. He returned on the lights, noticing a pattern. All unlit, except the ones who would help someone reach the exit. So they were kept lit for someone to get out of here through the door. He waved his fingers, trying to piece together something else. The guard told me the Jarl is here. However, the Burning of King Olaf is taking place. And I saw her sentinel run towards the Palace as soon as he saw me enter the gate. Elisif was many things. Just, kind and even wise, but she had always managed to display a shrewd side of herself, especially when he was involved.

He listened once again to the footsteps. They were circling around the upper level of the Palace, bordering the lower area where he was at the moment. They had come from behind him and now they were coming closer to his left. A softer sound of elegant footwear and the harsher sound of battle boots. Metal sole, no protection. There's only one suit of armor in Skyrim that has that design, and it's the steel plated design. He nodded silently, feeling the familiar surge of energy and renewed focus that solving a riddle gave him. Elisif was waiting for me, and she is coming towards us with Bolgeir.

'Azrael,' Serana said from behind him. Her tone was curious, but confusion was what gave it its particular sound. 'Why did we stop? Are we waiting for something?'

He didn't turn around, not only because he didn't think it necessary but because he had spied a movement in the upper part of the room. 'We are,' he answered. The parapet hid most of the space behind it. Bolgeir Bearclaw, however, was a tall man, and his brown hair appeared above bulwark only to disappear moments after, rhythmically with the heaver footsteps.

Serana didn't reply, and the reasons why that was could have been many and far between. Regardless, Azrael waited for another few moments before two figures emerged from behind the parapet and onto the stairs, following the trace of lit candles. The armored housecarl was indeed the one to whom the brown mane belonged and that made those sounds. He was clad in his usual suit of plate armor and with his enormous greatsword was strapped to his back like a halberd. His face was rough and covered in scars and bruises, one of which didn't date too far back.

In front of him, walked Elisif the Fair. Azrael could still remember the intensity of his doubt when he had first heard that namesake, considering that it could refer as much to her character as to her appearance. Her delicate and graceful traits surrounded big, dark green eyes, which were sometimes briefly veiled by the long eyelashes. The chin was small, and the forehead flat. A simple golden diadem adorned it, and it disappeared on both sides of her head under her long, silky chestnut hair, left hanging loosely on her back with the exception of a small braid that fell precisely down her spine.

She wore an elegant gown, dark green with blue and golden ornaments. The main color matched the one of her eyes almost exactly, while the golden details drew the eyes of the observer towards her hair, for a reason that Azrael could not clearly explain. The hues were similar, but that effects was most curious. The robe fit tightly on her shoulders, chest and slim waistline before starting to widen into a long skirt from the hips. It remained suspended a few inches above the ground, not touching it and revealing the simple boots she wore.

If you don't know her as well as I do, one might miss the fact that she is very weary. Despite the smile and the minuscule amount of maquillage she had applied to hide the slight rings under her eyes, there was an expression of sadness that was on her face even in that moment, even if masked by the stern, gentle look. Her shoulders were low and her movements imperceptibly somnolent. And even with that gown on and despite her housecarl not being far behind, a small stiletto dangled by her side. Azrael remembered it well. Diamond shaped cross-section, twelve inches the length of the blade. Steel, with a mainframe of ebony. He had forged it himself, only a few months back. He liked to think that, together with everything they had shared, someday it might have protected her. If anything, he thought, looking at the way her smile was changing, it's still good to bring a grin to her face. An outcast she remains, and so do I.

The Jarl walked down the last step of the stairs. 'I thought you might guess I was waiting for your arrival,' she said. Her arms opened and raised, and Azrael could see they were spread the precise size of his torso.

'How perceptive,' he whispered deeply, feeling her infectious grin drawing a leer on his own lips, as well.

He opened his arms as well. When she came within arm's reach, she made a longer step to reach him immediately. She closed her arms around him, still careful not to entangle her sleeves in the small barbs of his armor but then holding on tight. Her head slipped just below his chin, if she lowered if just a little, and she did just that, bending it just that little bit. Azrael closed his arms around her too, and kissed her…

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… On the cheek, but still. There was no explanation, no justification and no reason in her world as to why he had done it. The vapor that seemed to have numbed her chest was growing hotter, and among that turmoil of sensations, a lonely thought hammered insistently and relentlessly. Is this really him? She quickly denied it, but the feeling emerged once again, and with it, the thought. Is this really him? Because no matter how hard she tried, there was absolutely nothing that would have elucidated what had just happened, outside of Azrael not being himself any longer. There was no link. Nothing. The vapor was almost boiling, and she forced herself to remain still. On the one hand, it felt like it was draining her of all her strength, but on the other it seemed it was giving her new one. She was in a state of constant flow, but she felt frozen. She refused to make a choice, and continued to deny everything.

A part of her wanted to avert her eyes, because the mere sight was too painful to experience. It wasn't as if it wanted to completely forget it, but to pretend it was already a thing of the past. Nevertheless, that was only a weak voice. One that still wailed in agony as she looked as Azrael's hands slowly descended down her back and reached her waist before he retracted them. He was the first to end the contact. That is exactly how he behaves normally, at least. Everything else was still heavily off balance. Shifting her gaze to their faces, she noticed the woman's hand had reached for his hidden cheek. Something even more violent stirred inside. The line beyond which emotions became physical sensations she could clearly feel had been crossed already. Her hands were tickling and she felt her mouth, how dry it was. No. She slowly brought her hands behind her back, keeping them in contact with her body. No. She clenched them into fists, trying to disperse some tension.

Her eyes moved to the man that had walked down the stairs behind the young woman. A tall Nord with a coarse visage, marked by scars. He wore a heavy set of armor. Serana, however, wasn't interested in anything about the man other that his apparent lack of reaction about what was happening to the one he was supposed to protect. His face didn't show any signs of distress. To tell the truth, he seems very calm. It was almost as if he allowed himself to relax, now that Azrael was there too. That makes no sense, she thought. I knew that Elf for a murderer, a brigand. Instead, he seems to be quite close to this noblewoman.

She couldn't help but play out the moment of their embrace in her head, over and over again. There was something about the spontaneity of that gesture that had seemed strange, almost impossible. None of them felt any embarrassment. She had grown up somewhere where the smallest of signals was an important cue to know on which side someone was. None of those signals passed her by without notice, after all those decades spent at the castle. She had seen formal embraces, and there wasn't one example that resembled what she had just seen in the slightest. She had seen family members, friends and soldiers hugging. But the more she thought of it, the more it became apparent that the only people who would grip each other with that mix of relief and desperation were lovers. The more she tried to run away from the thought, the more she became convinced that what she had just seen was a lovers' embrace.

'I'm on my way to the ceremony,' the young woman said, retracting her hand from Azrael's cheek. 'Whatever it is you need, I'll tell you as we go there.'

Azrael brought his left foot backwards, clearing the space between the woman and the door. 'After you.'

She smiled his way again, exceedingly sweetly. She intertwined her fingers and put both hands on her lap, and then she stepped forward, surpassing him. As she did, Azrael turned his head towards the armored bodyguard, and the two exchanged a silent glance. They know each other, Serana understood quite easily. They also trust each other, to some degree. It was special kind of trust, one that is issued between two people who share something to protect. My mother and father sometimes showed it, when they both pretended to care about me. That very thought stung her right in the heart, but something else grabbed all of her attention. After looking at the man, Azrael had turned again, and this time towards her.

All she could feel from the lingering cruelty of her own thought was a dull and lingering pain. Everything else was frozen, unable to react in any way to the glimpse the Dunmer was stealing her way. She could barely see his eyes shimmering under the shadow of the hood, but they were only two faint vermillion sparks and nothing more. Even without it, she could guess he was looking her way. By that point, she could really feel it. It was a specific sensation, something she could recall in detail and even name, as opposed to before they had reached the castle, when it was something completely out of her control. Now she she understood when he did it, but she could not understand what was going through his mind. She was stiff, and had no will nor way to control herself.

He veered his eyes elsewhere a moment after. She felt the upper part of her body suddenly releasing an amount of tension she had failed to feel, and the constriction she still felt reminded her of the sensation of drowning or suffocating. The relief was the equivalent of being able to breathe again. Why did I feel so… Choked? It was something that happened a lot in the first days of their companionship, but it occurred decreasingly as of late. Because you knew you are not his favorite anymore, a voice whispered. Her teeth closed together and her canines ground together for a second.

She looked towards the exit. Azrael and the woman were stepping in its direction, a short distance from one another. She turned around, and saw that the armored man had stood still, looking at her and not saying a word. However, as he saw her turning, the bodyguard bent his head slightly. 'My lady,' he said with a gruff voice, opening a palm in the direction of the portal.

'Thank you, sir,' she said automatically, putting a softness that she didn't feel in her words.

She raised her foot to reposition it in the entrance's direction, and even that seemed to cost her a lot of effort. The limbs fell heavy and sluggish, as if completely unwilling to help her move. She moved heavy but silent steps towards the door, her gaze pointed down but unable to escape the shadows cast on the ground. Azrael's shade, recognizable by the roundness of the hood and the large shape on the cloak, almost touched her feet. She was so absorbed by her own inner commotion that, at first, she failed to realize that the woman was talking.

'Of course,' she said. Her voice was silvery, she noticed, very soft and calm. 'Everyone around here supposed it might have been related to you. You're late, I'm afraid. The Priest has left the city two days ago. He understood that what he was looking for was not here in the capital. I'm sorry. If I had known, I would have found a way to keep him here.'

'You had no way to know. Where has he departed for?'

'He didn't tell anyone, but I looked into it further and found out that he was bound for Dragon Bridge to meet with someone. That's where the events started taking a strange turn, because according to my men there was a large platoon of a group of vampire hunters traveling to meet an imperial scholar. I find it hardly a coincidence. The Dawnguard, they call themselves. I'm sure your sources have provided you with more information than I could ever give you.'

'What can you tell me about his stay in the city?'

'He remained here only a couple of days and didn't share much information. He visited some places in the vicinity, but most of the time he remained in his room at the tavern, where his guards forbid everyone from accessing. He wasn't seen often. The people who have spoken to him report of him being a mild man, very courteous and soft-spoken. His departure was quite swift. His guards loaded the cart with which they traveled in the heart of night and they left at the crack of dawn. The few things I know come from a legionnaire, an incredibly verbose man that has been used by Tullius more than once for his ability to make anyone talk. He befriended one of the Priest's guards and reported what he had learned to me directly.'

Serana moved her gaze onto Azrael, because everything indicated the woman had finished her list of things to say. However, the Dunmer didn't say anything. His head was directed towards his right, where the young woman was, but was lowered towards the ground. He's thinking, Serana understood, easily recognizing that strange kind of silence. Despite her attention being taken by the conversation, a voice in the back of her mind stuck a dagger in her back without notice. You didn't care about what they were saying. You only cared how they were saying it. You haven't even listened. If he asked you what they told one another, you would not be able to repeat it. She tried to ignore that as best as she could. Initially, she tried to prove the voice wrong and remember everything that had been said, but soon found herself unable to do so.

She looked for something else, anything at all that would make the shame go away momentarily. Looking in towards Azrael again, she glanced rapidly at the woman. Her face was peaceful, although still imperceivably melancholic, and she looked in the Dunmer's direction without any signs of impatience or discomfort. He is calm with her, and in turn she is calm with him. I always get nervous when he drops silent, and she doesn't. Why? What does she know that I don't? What was even stranger was that not only there wasn't any tension on either side, but there was no tension among them, too. It was a subtle difference, one of the few things that she had learned later on in her years. When two people talk, both of them can be either nervous or calm and the link between them can be either stable or unstable. They were both calm and the link was stable, something that in her experience was exceedingly rare. Moreover, they were clearly members of different casts in society, which usually translates into the link being unstable. And that wasn't the case. Azrael might have been a hero, but she knew him to be known as a murderer and a rogue; the other was, as far as she could tell, a noblewoman. And still, they acted as if they were exactly on fair ground.

In retrospect, she thought, he has been very elusive throughout the journey. Especially about what we were to do in this city. There had yet to be a time when he would be the one talking to her without the precise intention to know something, but this time it had been different. He wasn't merely silent or cryptic in his answers, he didn't answer them at times. When asked about predictions, something he usually shared, he simply answered that he didn't know. She had learned to give no thought to it. When trying to understand him, something that was expressed too little wasn't indicative. Something that was expressed too much, instead, was highly indicative. For instance, he was too affectionate just a moment ago. Although, perhaps affectionate isn't the right thing. His embrace had looked welcoming, and small signal had to be amplified. In spite of it being the logical path to take, she decided not to finish that reasoning.

Once again, she searched for an escape. Well, if… she thought, stopping in her tracks. She felt a sudden wave of enjoyment getting a hold of her. Wait, wait… If the Moth Priest isn't here, it means we are leaving immediately. It felt just like before, as if she could breathe again. The dummy burning… she remembered, from when they had strolled down the same lane they were walking on now. That must be the ceremony where she is going to. We will soon depart, then. The image of the Palace, the city and everyone about that evening were tainted, blackened as if spotted with ink. Even the dark, clear sky dotted with stars gave her no relief whatsoever. Only the thought that they would depart soon did. And then, we'll leave this behind us.

It was a simple matter of awaiting the moment when their way crossed the smaller street that led to the place where she had seen the people united. It's not far now. The sound of the drums and lutes was already reaching her ears. As they had walked by before, she had felt the strong desire to join the festivity. Eat, chat and dance with all the people there and forget for one night about all the things that were happening. The thing that surprised her most was that she could not relate to that feeling anymore. The idea of being with those people wasn't pleasant anymore. All she really wanted was to get out of that city, flee as fast as she could and leave everything behind. There would be no regrets.

'Thank you, Elisif,' Azrael said, after that prolonged silence. He had been deep in thought for a long time, even by his standards, and his tone was still reflective. Serana shifted her eyes on the woman, but made a mental note of what could have only been her name.

'You're welcome,' she said, smiling, 'I wish I could have told you more, but that's all I could gather. I image it is enough to continue.' She paused briefly, and it was done with a reason, it wasn't that could be understood. 'If I may,' she continued, 'why are you trailing this man? If it wasn't you who summoned an expert in Elder Scrolls here, who did?'

'There's no time for that story tonight. We can't stay.'

'Why not?' she asked, her features taking on a teasing look. 'The Priest is waiting his contacts in Dragon Bridge, you will gain no time by setting off right now. There are people here who might have something more for you, and some who still owe you favors.' Her gaze and Azrael's seemed to be linked, having a short wordless exchange. Elisif looked down at his hand and got a hold of it, looking him in the eyes. 'Stay,' she said, and it really sounded like they had said something to each other in the meantime. 'For the Burning of King Olaf, the last courtesy you did to my subjects.'

Serana felt the tips of her fingers itching as she watched her let go of Azrael's hand. No, no you won't be able to. They had reached the junction, her own path and Azrael's was towards the gates, across the city, while that woman's gestured toward her right, where the smoldering effigy was and where the people were still assembled. You will not manage. That place was to be where the group would split, where they would recommence their journey and leave the city to their merrymaking. It will…

Her thoughts were cut clear off right then, because as she waited for Azrael to reply to Elisif, he turned towards her tersely. 'Would you mind?'

The solid barrier of thoughts and expectations she was holding out against the voices in her head was pierced and shattered, dispersing in a hundred small shards as if it was glass. She felt her lips glued together, unable to open. She could not think, let alone talk. It wasn't the first time it happened, and the others had brought nothing good. No, focus. Despite her efforts, the memories were clouding her mind. She violently resisted the wave, but was unable to think of an answer. Her main doubt, after being remolded into words, slipped out of her mouth. 'Should we not get going?' she said, but she felt her own voice trembling.

'Not immediately,' he answered emotionlessly. 'We'd be in Dragon Bridge before daybreak, and that won't be of any advantage to us.'

'Of course. Well, no, I don't mind, but…'

'What is it?'

'Nothing.'

She was looking elsewhere, but she could see Azrael's head bending ever so slightly to the side. 'Are you well?'

She stared down, the anger that was growing inside her sharpened and weakened simultaneously by the feeling of shame. 'Yes,' she muttered. Hear the silence, she thought. That woman and her bodyguard, what will they think of me? The sensation crept along, as her mind tried to find new solutions to a problem that she had already been unable to solve. You're a Daughter of Coldharbour. But the thought, which usually gave her strength, only sapped her of it. True, she might have killed the three of them in the blink of an eye, but that didn't matter. She felt so small and insignificant that even the thought of being able to kill them seemed pitiful and childish to her.

As she raised her head, she found the Dunmer's hidden face still turned in her direction. Stop, she groaned internally, and the sound didn't escape her mouth by miracle. Her head was bursting, but at the same time she felt she had too little time to think. Every thought was unfinished, overcome by a new, stronger one. It was impossible to calm them. More than anything, now she was completely confused. How did she manage to convince him? It's the first time I've seen him surrender to someone, and it had to be her of all people. There must be something more he didn't tell me. They're lying to me. All of them. It didn't sound impossible for them to have arranged that exchange only to make Azrael staying in the city reasonable. Azrael, by then, had turned his head towards Elisif again. Look at her, she thought, all smiling. A filthy liar, that's what she is.

'Fine,' Azrael said to the young woman in an even tone. 'We'll stay a few hours, but we'll be off before dawn.'

From the moment he finished saying it, the smile on the woman's face grew brighter and brighter, until much of her somber expression had been completely wiped away from her face. Her hand darted towards the Dunmer's gauntlet, gripping it tightly. 'Come,' she said, stepping in the direction of the large crowd and pulling his hand like a child would with a parent.

Azrael strode forward, following her. The armored man, who had stood behind Serana throughout the entire conversation, went behind the two without a word. After Elisif's voice had waned, the sound of the crowd had become less noticeable than before, and the rhythmic ringing of the greatsword hitting the back of the bodyguard's cuirass was the only thing left. This once, not even him turned around to see where she was or waited for her to go first. She stared in front of her, her gaze centered on the two figures of Azrael and the woman, but never really looking at them. Once again, she had plunged from the painful reality into the equally painful thoughts.

An acrid taste filled her mouth. It stretched across her palate and became so unpleasant that she would have liked to either swallow or spit out her own tongue. If only I could just… lose control like my father does. He wasn't so conflicted, and when he was angry he did many things that he would have later regretted. But he did them without a thought for the consequences. The battle was fought outside of him, whereas she could even feel her anger without it being followed by shame and confusion. It's so simple to be him… she thought while raising her head, not sure if the last word referred to Harkon or Azrael.

In the meantime, the latter of the two had stopped on the rim of the circular space where all the people were assembled. There were wall a few feet high protecting the edges, probably because there was nothing but ravines beyond it. The place itself was higher on the rims, where a whole ring of steps descended down to the center, the lowest spot. The burning effigy was right there in the middle, the shape clearly of a man but with a crown on his head. That was all she saw before her eyes wandered back to Azrael, with Elisif still holding him by the wrist. They stood motionlessly, as if waiting for something. A something that wasn't too hard to imagine: the crowd's attention.

Several heads were turning each seconds passing, ever increasing in number. Beautiful dresses, Serana thought, taking a look at what type of people was there, which relieved her for a moment. She had hijacked a solitary thought. What people are they going to meet? Using that excuse, she lingered on her observation a little longer, since that was something she was good at. Noblemen, merchants. There were normal citizens as well, with no particular distinguishing features, and a very large number of musicians and, judging by their proximity with those holding instruments, singers as well. They can't be just bards and troubadours here by chance. This festival is somehow tied to them. Ever since she had come to know Azrael well, that little part of him that had taken root in her continued to live and prosper, and when she sought refuge in it she always had a brief understanding of how it felt to be him. But it doesn't help me in understanding anything about him, so what the point?

'People of Solitude!' called Elisif. All eyes, including Serana's moved towards her. 'As we celebrate the Burning of the False King again, we have a guest.' Only at that point, she let go of Azrael's wrist and respectfully stepped away from him. 'All hail the Dragonborn,' she said softly.

The crowd revitalized, and dozens of fists and mugs were raised above their heads with a roar. 'All hail the Dragonborn!' Their arms bent in unison, lowering but then rising even higher than before. Mead spilled from the few mugs that had been shaken with too much strength. 'All hail the Dragonborn!'

Serana looked, feeling her own eyes expanding. A choking hold grasped her throat for a moment. She watched the hands and fists lower, this time definitively, and another cheer exploding from the crowd, saluting Azrael from a safe distance away. He turned left first and gave a slow nod, which almost resembled a very slight bow. He turned to the right and did the same towards the other wing of the crowd. An even greater cheer raised after he did that. They worship him here, she realized by looking at their genuine enthusiasm. But they also fear him, something in turn was made clear by the distance that everyone had put between them and him. Only Elisif had thus far gone closer, but she did seem to be the strange exception. Well, of course she is…

Serana felt that the loud shout had somehow tossed the haziness off her, and she moved her first step to reunite with the two of them. They're alone. Where has the bodyguard gone to… There he is, she thought right as she spotted him in the shadows cast by one of the pillars on the rim of the open space. He kept his eyes fixed on the young woman, who had been approached by a young man with fair hair. As Serana closed in, she also noticed the light blue eyes and a simple warpaint on the side of his head. As she shifted her eyes again, she saw Azrael looking in her general direction.

'There you are,' he said, turning to the other side afterwards. The breeze shook the rims of his hood, but not even the light of the waning fire seemed able to illumine his face.

I can see his eyes, though. She had not yet seen his face directly once, which she found immensely approached him and stepped by his left side very carefully, feeling as if every step could have been potentially dangerous. There's nothing dangerous. You're just imagining it, she repeated herself. 'What is this celebration?' she asked, stealing a glance at Elisif. She was on the Dunmer's other side, and she felt safer with his black, towering frame in between them.

He didn't answer immediately. He was very focused on the dancers in the middle. The musicians had yet to recommence their music, but there were already people gathering around the smoldering effigy and forming a thick circle, bopping around and moving their hands. 'The Burning of King Olaf,' he said after a while, before Serana could guess where exactly his attention had gone to. He still wasn't looking towards her, but now his head was moving slightly every few moments. 'The last favor I did to her,' he explained, bending his head towards Elisif. 'She needed something to strengthen her authority in the city, but she wouldn't do it willingly. So I did it for her, we could say.'

'And I hope next time you'll simply say what you want from me,' the young woman intervened from the side, looking first at Serana and then at Azrael with a courteous smile. 'The music will start soon. Will you dance with us?'

Serana felt a mixture of the excitement at the prospect and the disdain she felt for that woman. You have only distracted yourself, a voice told he, but you can't outrun that hatred. And it was true enough. Ever since she had heard those cheers, she had felt awake, and it had wiped away all thoughts from her mind. However, she knew by experience that there were two occasions when this happened. The first was when the painful thoughts only emerged because of inactivity, and the other was when she drowned real thoughts in excitement. What was happening was a stunningly accurate example of the latter. Merely the burning, bitter sensation that constantly burnt in her throat was proof enough.

Azrael turned towards her way gradually, stealing another brief glance at the crowd first. Once looking in her way, he raised his left hand, open. 'Serana?'

What in… 'No, no,' she said, flashing a shy smile. 'Thank you, I…' She stumbled on her own words, trying to correct that instinctive reaction. 'I…' She felt her eyes lowering and losing contact with the Elf's. When she caught a glimpse of his left hand, even her smile faded.

Azrael had brought his elbow closer to his torso, retracting the palm. His little finger bent backwards; then his annular, his long finger. No… The index closed on the palm too, and the thumb curved, placed on the second phalanx of the last two. His hand was now closed into a fist, albeit not a clenched one. She looked as he lowered the hand and relaxed the arm, letting it dangle by his side. Only then did his fingers reopen, one after the other, as if redoing the same motion but in reverse.

'Fine,' she heard him say. 'Elisif?'

'With pleasure,' the young woman said softly. 'My only hope is that you'll have improved since last time.'

'I have held ballets with death and danced with the shadows ever since we last saw each other,' he said evenly, but there was a cryptic and teasing note in his voice. 'You'll be the judge of my improvement.'

The cold air blown her way by the movement of Azrael's cloak woke her up again, and this once it woke her up to something even more excruciating than the last. You idiot… she told herself, making the same mistake for the second time. That's not what you're supposed to do with him. What did he tell you when leaving the castle? He wanted me to state what I want. He didn't want me like this. I have no excuse. Not only that, but there was something holding a grip ever stronger on her. It was a sense of diffused fear, as if the walls themselves could come to life and jump to her throat. Why? she thought, stepping backwards.

Every reality she could cling to seemed to make no sense any longer. There was a forgotten feeling and impulse arising from the brutal core of the vampire that was ordering her to do something. Pain, any pain would have been enough to seal that wound. It varied between having the urge to slaughter everyone there or tear her own limbs off, one at the time. I have the strength. Yes indeed, I do. Those thoughts only lasted a few instants, and they were nothing unusual, but she had never felt them so clearly in all their complete and utter madness. She was so taken with her pain that she took a step back and struck the rim of the floor with her heel.

In the short moment when she was falling to the ground, her head cleared, filled only with the intention to land without hurting herself. Her hands moved quickly and opened towards the ground, and when she hit it her elbows bend just enough for her to soften the hit. She looked around, but everything seemed fine. She was now sitting down on the pavement, under the shadow of the building behind her. Her hood was still lowered on her face, but as she looked around she noticed that no one had seemingly noticed anything. Her ears were filled with a shrill noise that was produced by her own mind, but she could hear the music playing and she could see the bards producing it. She raised her hands from the ground and encircled her bent knees.

Time was flowing strangely. At least, all the sensations had left her and she was alone once more with her thoughts. While before she had felt the compulsive need to do something, now she felt like doing nothing at all. She sat, and she had no wish to rise. I could stay here forever, and nothing would change. She leaned her chin on her knees, dangling. Look at me, the frightened and naive child, again. I can't escape that fate. She hoped something would have changed, that patience would have yielded something good, but that had not been the case once more. Nothing ever changed for the better around her, and even inside her.

Why did I even think of going together with him? What good has it done? Long silences, days spent traveling and pain without end. I could have remained in the castle. I would have been safer there. I could have planned things on my own. But now, she was out in the world again, a world that she did not know, and she could do little more than follow Azrael's instructions. I heard them talking about the Priest before. He has hatched a plan, but what it is? She could run away, true. If despair would be what was left, she would even fly away despite her hatred for her other form. But even then, with all the speed in the world, she would have still been a step behind him. He knew what to do and she didn't. I haven't even listened when I should have. I already wasted my opportunity.

The sound in her ears was progressively diminishing, and the music became clearer every new moment. The sound of lutes, drums and flutes was very clear, but beneath it all there was also a harp playing some sweeter, softer notes. The melody was jovial, but there was that hint of sadness at its fringes. A bit like me, she said to herself. Everyone here is having their fun, and I'm not allowed. Everywhere she looked, there was nothing other than happiness. I do not belong here. I belong four thousand years ago. That was my world. This is not my home any longer.

A couple, twirling around, passed a few feet away from her, taking no notice. They were young, probably around twenty years. The man was missing two fingers, which Serana noticed every time the girl turned her back in her direction and the man's right hand appeared, holding her shoulder. There's a war on, apparently. That man cut his fingers to prevent the recruiters from taking him. He had to sacrifice much to save his life, and that sacrifice seemed worth everything in that moment. The wide smiles the two of them were beaming at once another belonged only to people who were madly in love with each other. He'd have cut all of his fingers to remain with her. They kept twirling, until they disappeared behind the frame of the effigy, parts of which were still consumed by the flames.

In trying to follow them on the other side of the ceremonial figure, her eyes fell on a man dressed in superb clothing, donning a large blue tunic with fine seams on the torso. A large collar of fur adorned the shoulders, and an expensive jewel hung from his neck. I know the type, she thought, ever seeking prestige and attention from his peers. The man was alone, but there were several other people who were moving around him as if they were a group, and when they met they did gestures with their hands, smiling and laughing. I wonder if he is one of the saner ones, who appreciates what he has, or one of the unwise ones who would sacrifice everything for just a little more. Regardless of which, he was having fun. The smile that adorned his face could not be faked.

That group passed by a young man, which Serana recognized at once. It was the fair-haired one who had briefly approached Elisif before. He was a broad-shouldered, strong-looking man. He wasn't of the same flock as many of the ones there, who had their cheeks clean-shaven and their faces clean. That one was a warrior at heart. He had a long beard, tied under the chin and equally long hair that were also tied behind the head. The expensive dress was replaced by a heavy cloak of brown bear fur. She had noticed back when she had seen him for the first time that he had a saddened expression, one that often appears on the faces of ones who have experienced the grief of losing a loved one. He doesn't join in, Serana observed, noticing him beating the rhythm of the song with his foot, but not dancing with the others. One day he'll outlive his own grief and dance again. I won't.

She felt one of her eyes burn, and that spot rolled down her cheek. It was a tear, a single tear, all the water that her undead body had managed to gather. She smiled, but she also felt her teeth grinding. It's pointless. She swallowed, even though there was no saliva in her mouth. She cleared the droplet of salty water away from her face. I will always be an outcast.

Memories of home, in a time long forgotten by everyone who lived in the time where she had waken up. Castle Volkihar had always been the same, pretty much, and it was one of the only things she had seen clearly in her life. She knew every nook and cranny, and knew all of its ways by heart. There was one way that led to window-sill, where she could see Solitude. She had read stories of that place, but had never visited it. Her family never allowed her. Now that she had the chance to see it, she didn't really feel like going around. She had seen the windmill outside, the walls, the Palace. That was enough for one time.

During the time she had spent sitting, thinking, always there against the wall and on the sidelines, all of her senses had gradually diminished their activity. She didn't hear the music almost. Her left hand gripped the knee, and her arm was parallel to the ground in a way that could rest her left cheek on her elbow. She wasn't even looking in the direction of the crowd anymore. After a while, the pain of watching everyone else having fun aside from her had transformed into boredom. As soon as she had lost interest, her past had began to emerge, a little at a time. She had remembered things that she could not recall before, and she had stopped counting time.

'Greetings.'

Serana felt herself freezing stiff. She didn't understand why at first, because the sudden fear wasn't at all related to the person who had spoken. The voice had come from behind her, and while she would have been quite embarrassed of being talked to while laying her head on her elbow so childishly, that wouldn't have been enough to cause that reaction. However, after a moment's thought, something occurred to her, and with that, something Azrael had said. You're afraid that your thoughts will unexplainably become reality, so you try to not think certain things. When you do think them, you stiffen, he had told her.

She turned around, not raising her head from its comfortable position. After the very few moments needed to recognize the person beside her, she understood why she had frozen. A searing needle pierced her throat, and the hatred she felt was a lot stronger than her fear of her own thoughts could control. You. Of course. Are you here to torture me, you lying rat? Her eyes wandered around, but there was no trace of Azrael. Oh yes, you figured out that he protects me, so you waited for him to be elsewhere. Her hand closed on her knee a little tighter.

The name of the woman took a little longer to surface. Elisif, she remembered. Her dress was illumined by the brazier behind her and by the distant light of torches that had been put in the middle of the circular ring once the dummy had completely burned. Her hair weren't as perfectly combed as before. Her forehead was lucid. Sweat, Serana thought, she must have danced for a while. Every time she had caught a glimpse of her, she had quickly turned away. I had to intention of seeing you again, but you give me no choice. As she continued to look, there was something eating away at her. What is it? she wondered, trying but failing to understand.

'I realized,' Elisif continued, taking her away from her thoughts, 'our mutual acquaintance did not introduce us properly before.' She put her palm on her chest, smiling politely. 'I'm Elisif. I'm the Jarl of this city.'

What? Azrael wasn't the friend or lover of any noblewoman, but of the governor of the Hold. He never mentioned this. Not once. The more she discovered, the more his silence during the journey seemed suspicious. Well, of course not. He was hiding the truth from me, and not she's here to enjoy herself. Between the two, he has done the most decent thing. Now that she knew that, she remembered the woman talking about subjects before. Her subjects.

'I am Serana, my Jarl,' Serana answered after a moment. 'How may I be of help?'

She had not put any real effort into smiling back and responding, but Elisif seemed disarmed briefly. 'Not tonight,' she said afterwards, grabbing her skirt from behind and lifting it in order to sit on the steps. 'Tonight, I would like to do something for you. You seemed uncomfortable before, and then I saw you sitting alone.'

A thread of light penetrated Serana for a moment. Perhaps she means good… she thought for a moment, but she shut down the impression as soon as she felt it clearly. She managed to make me believe she was being sincere. She must be a master manipulator. 'I'm just very tired from the journey, I needed some rest. Traveling with out mutual acquaintance, as you called him, can be quite exhausting.'

'I know, I have traveled with him too,' she said, looking off into the sky for a moment. 'His arrival here was a complete surprise, but he hasn't told me anything about you. I asked, but he wouldn't answer.'

Serana tried to keep her teeth from grinding. Yes, of course. He's done that to me, and now you pretend we're on the same boat. 'Really?' She pondered her options, but she grew tired of it. It was time to prepare the strike at the heart. 'It sounds strange, him holding information from you. You seem very close.'

Elisif bent her head both ways repeatedly, her smile fading and molding into a more serious expression. 'We are,' she said vaguely. 'That does not mean he tells me everything. Sometimes, it's for my own good. But what about you?' she asked. A smile appeared on her lips again as the pensive look left her face. 'You're the one traveling with him know. Why? Are you doing anything specific? Is it related to the vampire troubles we've been having?'

Serana flashed a smile, knowing that it would buy her some time to think. Something doesn't add up. The thread of light was getting larger, but her skepticism was as strong as ever. She is tricking be, it must be. But then again… She could not explain everything Elisif was saying through the lenses of her doubt, but she could with the ones of her trust. 'Yes, it's vampire related. Now we have this new task to handle. The Moth Priest, or so they call him.'

She waited for the simple answer that would follow. Elisif was looking at her more intently, and kept silent. Something's not right, she thought. The young woman had a way of looking at her that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Curses, she thought, I thought she'd be up for this trivial chat, if she was here to torture me. At once, all the missing pieces reached her. The expression on her face had been getting more and more confused and lost, and she had completely missed it before. She was focusing on spotting any grins or leers that would confirm her doubts, and had lost others things along the way.

'Pardon me,' said Elisif, shaking her head, 'but do we already know one another? Or do you know about me and haven't told me?'

Serana shook her head, but her brow furrowed under the hood. 'No, we do not. Why?'

'You're angry with me, I can feel it. I can't find any reasons for it, however… Is it something Azrael has said? Or is it me?'

'Azrael has nothing to do with this.'

She regretted her sudden reaction right after the words slipped out of her mouth, but it was too late. Her eyes moved upwards and met Elisif's, and this once she was grinning. Her smile had something more than polite about it, a curious mixture of affection and playful tease. 'Quite the contrary,' she said, giggling, 'I think he has everything to do with this.'

Finally, something sparked in Serana's mind. It took time for her to understand a person, but now she felt she had done it. Whereas before she was kept away from the truth by her own suspicion, now she saw more clearly. Elisif, despite also being the soft and gentle person that she had seen all that time, was a Nord at heart. That brief lighthearted comment had proved it, and it was reason enough to assume there was a strength deep inside of her that was very much awake. A mild person, true, but one that had very high standards and held to her principles even if her life was on the line.

Once that change had taken place inside of her, something seemed to happen on the outside. Beforehand, she saw a simple and fragile your woman whose only ability was her cunning. Someone who used one's own beauty to deceive others. That's what made me uncomfortable… she understood at last. That she's beautiful. Now, the shrewdness had shifted into wisdom. She saw that she was talking to an old soul, who knew her way in life. She was also faced with someone strong, in control. She felt small, for the first time since she had laid eyes on her. She is a deceiver, though. I wonder how many people have committed my same mistake, and paid dearly for underestimating her. But at least, It would seem she isn't lying to me.

'So,' Elisif said, 'I think you should explain me what exactly binds the two of you. It's apparent that it's more than just work.'

Serana gathered the last of her willpower. 'I will,' she said, inflexibly, 'as soon as you tell me what binds the of you. The whole story'

Elisif looked at her wryly. 'Very well,' she said, taking a deep breath and crossing her legs. 'Me and Azrael are… friends. We—'

'Friends? That's it?'

The young woman's smile widened. 'Former lovers, fine. But saying that doesn't mean anything. We met in unpleasant circumstances, at the wedding of a very important noblewoman who was killed during the celebration. After the fact, he escorted me back to the Palace while my guards searched the place, and that was our first chance to talk.' She pursed her lips, and her eyes narrowed. 'We were both different from the people were are today. He kept visiting me afterwards, and together we both grew up. There was a period in which we tried to make our bond into something that went beyond friendship, but it didn't last. That time, however, has made our relationship something I would never give up. That's the long and short of it, if ignoring the practical details of where and when precisely.'

Serana could hardly contain everything she felt and thought, but her long years of court intrigue proved effective at keeping her head clear. 'You're the first person I see who isn't afraid of him,' she said nonchalantly.

Elisif giggled. 'A lot of people are frightened by him, true. He has a grim reputation, and there are many who judge solely on that basis. In general, a normal person believes that what one does in a situation is what one does in every situation, and as long as they use that reference, they will be terrified of him. How else do you judge someone who you suspect murders for a living? I see beyond it, and by seeing it I earned his respect, which is a lot more effective than suspicion in protecting me from him.'

'You know him quite well,' Serana said, feeling the tension rising. How long have I searched someone to discuss this with, and it could happen any moment. She wasn't smiling any longer. Her face was relaxed, and all of her attention was for the young woman's words.

'More than a lot of people,' she said, but she followed the sentence by sighing and looking down for a brief moment. 'Sometimes I feel like I have only scratched the surface. However, our time of discovery is a thing that belongs to the past, whereas you are with him every day, I presume. How can you know him less than I do?'

Along with the tension, Serana felt excited, someway. I had hoped to have this conversation with Babette, but he interrupted us. Now Azrael was nowhere in sight, and it was good. What other people knew him with which she could talk? There was her father, but she'd rather not do it. Besides, I doubt my father has the same problems that I have. Elisif, on the other hands, seemed the right person. 'I do not understand him,' she said, 'that's why. I could tell you numerous things he has done, I could find words to describe him, but I have never really understood.'

'I know the feeling,' Elisif replied, giggling. 'It's probably why you're so attracted to him.'

Serana felt as if a stone had materialized from naught right into her throat. 'What? No!' she whispered, knowing that if she had let her voice go everybody would have heard her. Her voice was broken by laughter, an uncontrollable impulse. Good thing I don't have a single drop of blood in my arteries right now. It was the only thing that prevented her from blushing abruptly.

'Of course you deny it,' said Elisif, looking away. Her pensive expression returned on her face as she was looking in the sky. 'Everyone who meets him for the first time experiences a strange blend of pleasure and pain. Some people run away from it, and some are enthralled by it. I count myself among the latter without any regret or shame. You should as well.'

Part of her mind was obviously trying to deny it, over and over and over again, but it could only battle the truth for so long. Because that's the truth, yes. Everything that had followed a certain moment of their time together was marked by that, if revalued. Honestly, even my attempts to make my father kill him were very strange expression of that. I wanted to rid myself of the feeling my ridding myself of the person for which I felt them. 'I mean…' she said, not finding the words. 'How can you not?' She looked at Elisif, hoping she'd understand. 'He's like a riddle that has no answer, and yet I fixate on it looking for that answer.'

'I know.'

'And as much as his silence irritates me… I see it as a sign of wisdom.'

Elisif's expression changed quicker than usual. Her eyebrows pinched and her lips tightened. 'No, you're wrong there,' she said slowly. 'He's not wise. In fact, I'd say the wise flee his footfalls. He treads a path that is prohibited, and no one seems to be able to help him. And that's probably it. It's elusiveness that makes him so alluring. He is out of our grasp, he is forbidden as well.' She paused again, scratching her chin. 'To reach him would mean join him on that journey, something I wasn't willing to do. That is why we left the romance behind of us.'

'But what brought you together in the first place?'

Serana saw her scoffing, and as it ended she hummed briefly. 'Look at those people,' Elisif said, gesturing at the center of the ring with her head, and Serana looked. 'Now they're truly happy, but there's something about them that we didn't share. Me and Azrael. Tomorrow, they'll be back to their lives, and to them that is granted. It's easy. They will complain, they will have their conversations, they will do the thing that will push them through the day, almost as if there is no other choice. They'll put a smile on their faces, not asking themselves anything.'

Serana felt the strong impulse to lower her head, because knowingly or not, that description fit her perfectly. It feels good, not asking any questions. Many people in the court were like that as well. They lived on splashing in their bad deeds and plans without any thought. Let's see where she goes with this… she thought.

'When we found each other,' Elisif continued, 'we soon saw someone different. It had been a long time since I had smiled genuinely, and he probably saw it on my face. He was pretty much the same, at the time. The weight of many events weighted on his shoulders, and despite having something new that was giving him some comfort, he too was gloomy and sorrowful under the surface. He didn't show it the same way I did, but it wasn't long before we dropped our masks. When we did, we found ourselves being the only two people in the world we knew who acknowledged the difficulty to merely live, the unending grief and distress of life. Ever since we parted ways, I've been searching for someone similar.'

'And he hasn't?' Serana asked, keeper her tone as light as possible. It was only after a moment that she regretted saying what she had. You idiot, you'll sound like you only care about yourself.

She turned around and looked at Elisif, looking to fix things, but the droll look had reappeared on her face. 'I don't know if he has been looking for one, but he certainly has found one.'

So… The searing needle stung her in the throat again, even thought she wasn't really understanding the implication. Or maybe I do, and I just don't hear it. 'Who?' she asked, without managing to hide the surprise in her voice.

The young woman crossed her arms and placed the just below the curve of her breasts, drumming her fingers against the side of her chest. 'You haven't noticed…' she murmured, her smirk widening with every new moment. 'I guess you truly don't know him as well as I do. I admit, he can be had to read.'

'Elisif, I still haven't—'

'Haven't understood, of course,' she interrupted her; naturally, without hostility. 'Well, it seems to me that you're his new flame.'

'What—'

'You know what that means,' she said, her eyes and voice both taking on a sweeter and almost teasing expression. 'You're denying the truth. Deny that to yourself, but do not pretend you haven't understood.'

Well, she does sound a lot like he does now. Interrupting artfully in the middle of a sentence using the silence in between two words, remarking their ideas many inflexibly many times and confronting the other person with a sincerity that bordered on brusqueness. Those people that you don't understand, she thought, they are constantly trying to forget how difficult it is to live, it's not as if they don't feel it. But you know it, don't you? That had cast a new light on some things Azrael did. They're very similar, but they're also the opposite. Most of their differences could be probably attributed to the kind of life they had. Elisif was a ruler, and she was used to dealing with other people. She had learned to be gentle and to show her inner strength only when necessary. Azrael spent most of his time alone, and the rules that led smooth interactions between two people probably had fallen very low on his list of priorities. The people he dealt with probably didn't mind or even admired his direct, cut-to-the-chase approach.

As much as that train of thought was very interesting, she brought herself back to the one thing she needed to face. Because thinking about something is also a way to escape the truth. Still, she didn't know how to approach the concept. She says Azrael likes me… That doesn't make sense. When she presented the problem to her consciousness, it was fierily repelled. Knowing without believing… That's probably another skill they both master. In spite of every attempt she made to recall any sign of that, she could not. I'm looking for conventional signs, however. That will never work. The offer to dance, the jewel he had given her. I wonder.

'Elis—' Serana stopped, but before correcting herself she looked at the young woman. She smiled warmly, understandingly, and gave her a nod. 'Elisif,' she repeated, smiling weakly herself. 'Thank you. I'll need to think over it, but thank you. I still don't believe it, but I think you might be right.'

The Jarl of Solitude looked at her without saying a word. Her smile had faded from her lips, but it lingered in the corner of her eyes, where the wrinkles were late to disappear. Why is she not saying anything? Serana wondered, feeling some tension rising. What did I…? Of course, she thought, recalling the words. Empty thanks and a simple declaration of her inner decisions and states. Nothing that she could have had an opinion on. Those are words of courtesy, and it would be courtesy to elicit a response. But this is not the case, is it?

'Knowing what you told me,' she continued, 'how exactly can I manage to get closer to him? To make him open up.'

'The latter's impossible,' Elisif said dismissingly, 'whereas the former isn't out of the options. There are two ways. The first one will require you some degree of observation, and that would be to get your own understanding of him.' She stopped for a moment, giving her a little time to process it. 'The second is a simple thing I learned from experience. I think that our bond endured because he was the one controlling the time and place where we met. He is not comfortable with not having control…' she said, but trailed off. She turned towards her, her expression unclear. 'Do you understand?'

Serana checked herself. They want the truth, they'll have the truth. 'No, I didn't. I don't think you understood it yourself, either.'

Elisif chortled, shifting her gaze away. 'Very true. Fine, it'll take a little longer, but I'll have to use a metaphor. What very few people understand about Azrael, is that he's afraid. He's mortally afraid of a lot of things. Unlike many, he finds a refuge to these fears in solitude. When he's alone, he feels protected. He's particularly afraid of other people, or more precisely, of the reactions which other people cause inside him. For that reason, he decided to follow the forbidden path I already mentioned before, a safe haven where nobody will ever disturb him. Do you follow?'

'Yes.'

'Good. When walking that road, very few people dare to get in his way and even fewer manage to reach out to him. When they do, he could even kill them. That path is his realm, and his own laws apply there. However, moving on that path did not come without a sacrifice, and he knew it very well. That's why he sometimes comes back to the highroad, and interacts with the people he chooses. If, like us, we are for one reason or another seeking his companionship, than it's a privilege to be among those people. However, he doesn't allow anyone to walk his own path without knowing them well, and to know them well, he has to come to them. In practical terms, as much as it is unsatisfying and might require patience, the only way to gain his trust in not leaning on him. He is afraid of having others depending on him. The moment he realizes that someone can survive on their own, his fears subside.'

Showing that I can survive on my own… Serana thought. I've done the contrary, many times. She could recognize that pattern easily, not only because it was what she didn't by instinct, but also because he had always shown distinctive signs of disapproval when she did it. I judged him by conventional means… I thought that showing him my trust would gain his in return. I was dead wrong apparently. And even then, she was trying to not think of that. She wasn't really independent at heart. She liked relying on others, the feeling of closeness it provided.

Expect that she also hated herself for it. Her whole life had been a constant back and forth, again and again, between dependence, happiness, betrayal, independence, happiness and insufficiency; always in that order. Her life was made of cycles, but she had never liked or embraces that trait. Sometimes, in more ancient times, the cycle of dependence would repeat itself twice, once with her mother and once on her father, before moving on to the cycle of independence, which never lasted all the same. Alternatively, she felt sure of herself and happy with her own condition in both parts of the ever-repeating phases.

She could understand almost without thinking that she was going through the dependent part of the cycle. I am looking for someone to rely on. A voice deeper inside her cruelly added something. To cling on to. Tell the truth. That continuous rotation meant that her self-hatred was ever-present, and that there wasn't really anything that could satisfy her fully. And I don't even know what could. Azrael would know, because of the way he thinks. He would see the problem, identify the causes and fix them. I only see the cartload of painful, terrifying symptoms. There was a lonely shred of hope, that perhaps one day he could have helped her with it. But what will I do in the meantime? If I don't keep protecting myself, the ground will not be there for me.

Overall, once she emerged from her thoughts she was feeling worse than before. No matter where the destination was, there was a long road ahead. What's more, it had to be done while also completing that task of their. Finding Moth Priests, handling the court and who knew what else would go through her father's mind before than was over. Oblivion, why does everything have to be so complicated? There seemed to be no exit, not way to get out. I need to go somewhere, but first I'll have to get away from where I am. And I don't see any door.

'Elisif,' she said, not finding the will to look in her way, but she knew she was. 'I have a favor to ask. Two, in fact.' She pursed her lips. How I'd like to draw a deep breath right now. 'When you see Azrael, tell him I'll meet him by the gates where we left his mare. And, the second, if you see me again tonight, leave me alone.'

'I will,' said the Jarl of Solitude in her soft voice, rising to her feet. Her dress rustled softly, the sound almost covered by the music playing. 'I'm glad to have met you, Serana. Farewell.'

'Farewell, Elisif.'

She focused on the sounds that the woman made in leaving. Steps, soft and barely hearable steps, that disappeared in the other noises once far enough. I can't know if she was like this before they met, but I can definitely see Azrael's touch in her actions. She had welcomed her request to be alone without comments or any reactions, she had not felt personally spurned by it and had understood readily according to what she had been told. The same story as when Azrael asked me to dance. I told a polite lie, something he took to the letter. This once, if I had wanted her to stay, I could not have said something like this. A pity it took so long for me to learn, she thought, the irony hiding a great deal of regret and anger that she could feel but could not put into words.

She turned towards the center of the open space. She merely wished to look at it for one last time before leaving, but something strange caught her eye. As she drifted swiftly along the walls, not supposing they would be hiding anything interesting, she picked up on the frame of someone. Large, dark, and hidden in the shadow of the palace behind it. The torches in the middle of the ring didn't produce lights strong enough to illumine that place significantly. I know who that is, she thought, recognizing the shapes thanks to the heightened sight.

Azrael, who else. The Dunmer was standing against the wall, one foot on the ground and the other leaning on the wall itself. The hood was lowered on his face, his arms were crossed and he had wrapped the cloak around himself like a mantle. He could be barely seen in the shade, especially in contrast with the light which brightened up the center of the ring. Where is he looking at? she wondered, but his head was utterly motionless. Even at that distance, however, she could sense something. He was more than motionless with his head, there was a very complex kind of stillness that irradiated from him. He must be daydreaming, as he put it. And along with that, came something else. A soft, warm feeling, that she couldn't name.

Fine, she thought, standing. We'll meet in the morning. She looked towards the archway leading under the building next to them and back in the city. Everyone who's not here will be asleep by now. A sleeping city would make for a delicious nighttime meal for a pureblooded vampire. A voice called again in the back of her mind. You're just running away from the truth. But she knew that very well. She should have thought over everything, not ignore it. But I don't have the strength. Mortals get drunk, and I'll do the same. On blood, but still…

A/N: I realized just before revising that it's been a year since DKNR has started. This is a good chapter to end that timespan on. I've had my eye on it for a long time.

Thanks to our Guest for the review on the last chapter, and I'll see you in two weeks.