Chapter 5: Touching on Daedra and Aedra

Serana felt the cold first, biting bone deep even through her twofold Nordic and vampiric immunity. Far above, the sky burned with fires matching her eyes. The castle around them stood in ruins. Screams of tortured souls split the air. Above all of that was the overpowering stench of Coldharbour, of rotting bodies followed by sweet flowers and then the rot again.

Sithia fell limp in her arms. Serana held on grimly. Some mortals banished like this got snatched away by the denizens of Coldharbour. She wouldn't let that happen to Sithia. She glared at an approaching Daedroth, who flinched away, lowering that elongated reptilian head in submission. Being a Daughter of Coldharbour here had its benefits, as the only thing that would dare threaten one with the resident Daedric Prince's blood in her veins was—

"Back for more, Serana? And what's this, an offering for me?"

Molag Bal Himself. Looming behind her, a dark shadow in her peripheral vision.

Serana couldn't move, not even to breathe. Sheer terror paralysed her. Just as well, as they might have been trapped in Oblivion if she'd moved at all. Her father's portal reformed just as those claws reached for her, running through her hair.

They collapsed onto the rocky ground by the jetty. Serana clutched at her head, whimpering.

That voice… It haunted her nightmares. Commanding her to scream. To beg Him to stop.

His touch… His claws rending her flesh, tearing her apart, His scales—

No. She didn't have time to fall apart, not now, not here. Serana forced herself to stop breathing, silencing those shuddering, half-sobbing gasping breaths. Her body still shivered from the chill of Coldharbour. She pushed herself up off the ground, picking Sithia back up, cradling her in her arms.

Serana stumbled over to the boat and stepped into it, almost falling overboard when it rocked in the water. She set Sithia down and fumbled with the oars. Her hands shook, and the splitting headache from passing through Coldharbour made it difficult to focus her magic. At least she wasn't as badly affected as Sithia seemed to be – a crumpled heap of groaning Dragonborn in the bottom of the boat.

Serana forced herself to move faster, gritting her teeth as her head throbbed with every slow beat of her heart. There wasn't much time, especially if her father thought to banish one of his lackeys.

Maybe she should have waited to slip away on her own, but this way she didn't need to steal the Scroll. Her father would probably have kept it with him at all times, even in his coffin. And there was the fact that Sithia might well not have made it out of Coldharbour with that Daedroth ready to grab her.

In the distance, the doors banged open, and two of her father's minions raced down the bridge. Serana concentrated, forcing past the pain until the oars glowed purple. She took her hands off them as they started rowing on their own. She raised her hands, frost coating her palms. A moment later both vampires collapsed, each with a shard of ice between the eyes.

Exhausted, Serana almost collapsed on top of Sithia, her vision blurred. When she looked up, for a moment she thought she was seeing things. But no, there really was another rowboat on the other side of the jetty. She forced herself to focus her magic again, gritting her teeth, the cold purple fire of conjuration dancing across her hands. It darted over to the other boat, surrounded it with a glowing purple sphere, then both portal and boat vanished. Hopefully it wouldn't land on Molag Bal in Coldharbour, or she really would be in deep trouble.

"What… what happened?"

Serana raised her eyebrows. Impressive. Sithia had only been out of it for a few minutes. In her experiments most mortals didn't wake for hours after banishment through Oblivion. She still felt guilty about the few that didn't make it out at all. At least they were cattle who were doomed to die soon anyway, but dying in Coldharbour was not something she'd wish on anyone.

"S'rana?"

Perhaps it'd be better to wait until Sithia was less groggy to explain properly… "My father banished you, so I tagged along. By the way, you can call me Rana if you want to."

Sithia took the hand Serana offered and sat up. She pulled her damn cowl up, but for once left the mask down. "Your dad's a rude bastard. And no thanks, I happen to like your full name. I can even manage to say it most of the time, Serana."

Serana had to admit, if only to herself, that she liked the way her name rolled off Sithia's tongue, especially in that lilting accent she sometimes slipped into when sufficiently emotional.

Sithia looked back at the castle, fading away into the mist. "Why are we running?"

"We're outnumbered, or didn't you notice? Even if it was just my father, we'd have no chance against him. He's a lot stronger than I am. Couldn't you feel it?"

"Yes, almost like being in the presence of a Daedric Prince." Yet Sithia still intentionally got on his bad side… Serana sighed. With such a dangerous lack of common sense, it was impressive that Sithia had survived to reach the prime of her life. She needed a keeper, someone to make sure her recklessness didn't get her killed.

"Exactly, that's Molag Bal's blessing." His reward for giving his Lord two Daughters of Coldharbour… "How would you—" Serana shook her head. "Never mind, tell me about your dealings with Daedra later. We don't have a lot of time, we've got to get out of here. Any idea where we can go?"

Sithia steepled her fingers and stared out over the water, eyes narrowed. "Riften. I need to return to the Dawnguard to warn them. About your father, his lackeys, where the castle is, about that prophecy…"

"They're the group of vampire hunters you're part of?"

"Whatever gave it away?" Sithia drawled.

"Guarding the dawn from vampires. How original. Yet all too accurate with this prophecy. I think we both agree that we need to stop my father."

"Yes, but what can we do besides keep your Scroll away from him? You said he's too powerful to defeat even without his minions in the equation."

"The Scroll will have something, I'm sure of it." Serana reached over her shoulder to touch it, her skin tingling with the otherworldly aura.

Sithia inhaled sharply. "Wait, you mean getting the Scroll read, don't you? Is that really such a good idea when it's just what your crazy dad needs to get his prophecy fulfilled?"

"I know it sounds as crazy as he is, but I don't think we have any choice. We need to stop him, and we can't keep running forever. We can't hide either, he'd find us eventually. He's got nothing but time."

Sithia dropped her head into her hands. "So to stop him we need to risk everything. Wonderful. What's life without a little risk?" She looked up, grinning, a mad light in her eyes. All things considered, it was just as well her Dragonborn's sanity was questionable. Anyone sane would have tried to kill her and take the Scroll long ago.

"Let's do this. But how? Neither of us can read it."

"I know who can." Serana had heard about it over and over at the dinner table after her father discovered the damn prophecy. "We need to find a Moth Priest."

"…Aren't they all in Cyrodiil, in the White-Gold Tower?"

"So I've read. We can get to Cyrodiil from Riften, can't we?"

"Yes, but it might be worth asking around just in case anyone has seen one in Skyrim. I can imagine they might travel to do research at the College of Winterhold. But that'll have to wait until I've warned the Dawnguard."

"Wouldn't Winterhold be on the way to Riften?"

Sithia got her map out and tapped the marker for a castle to the east of Riften. The line of blood ran around the coast to Solitude, then inland, winding its way to Whiterun, then skirting Windhelm Hold down to Riften. "No, it's not. Bad things happen when I ignore the route this enchantment shows."

"Looks like we're meant to row back to Solitude, then."

Sithia nodded, but pointed at the map. "Yes, but we're to go inland for a bit. Presumably to lay a false trail for our pursuers to follow." She studied the route for a few heartbeats, then tucked the map away.

"Makes sense. It'll give us a chance to do something to confuse our scents."

"Do you use those creepy dogs for that, or are vampires like werewolves?"

"Any vampire can smell things out better than death hounds can," Serana scoffed. "And don't ever compare me to a werewolf again. It's quite insulting."

"What do you have against werewolves?"

"They smell terrible, even when they look human. Imagine a dog who's lived all its life in a tannery, never washing, then double it." She wrinkled her nose and shuddered at the memory of the stench. "Every werewolf I've met has lacked control too. The only vampires who deserve to be compared to those creatures are feral."

"I see. Sorry, I had no idea."

"Now you know better." Their boat finally reached Icewater Jetty. "Let's go. I'm not about to carry the boat around, so I'll enchant it to row itself along the shore. We'll have to move fast to catch up with it before it wears off and it drifts away."

Serana shouldered Sithia's pack after tucking the Scroll away inside it. She wasn't about to leave either on the boat, not when there was a very real risk they wouldn't be able to get back on it.

Their route inland took them through the pine trees to the nearby castle. From the jetty it had looked ruined, but despite the crumbled tower facing them, Altmer in gleaming Elven armour patrolled the ramparts on the walls. As they drew closer, Sithia saw them too.

"Thalmor," Sithia snarled, voice almost unrecognisable. She pulled her mask up.

"Is that a new word for Altmer?"

"All Thalmor are Altmer, but not all Altmer are Thalmor. They are the Altmer who persecute Talos worshippers. They capture innocents and torture them until they confess, even if there's nothing to confess to." She'd lapsed into that lilting accent again, but it was choked with pure hatred. She presumably worshipped this Talos too, except that didn't make sense, not with her name. Unless she'd converted? But if she had, she surely wouldn't still swear by the Void and Sithis…

Serana was about to ask about that when Sithia spoke again. "You really want to know why I use a masked cowl? It's not just about the cold. I'm wanted by the Thalmor. Killed too many of them to be allowed to live."

"That's why you go by Cynthia, isn't it?"

"That and Sithia does draw the wrong sort of attention from most people."

"Why do you hate them so much?"

"I hate all torturers, and Thalmor torturers most of all."

That definitely sounded personal. Had Sithia lost someone she loved to Thalmor torture?

"How much time do we have?" Sithia sounded more like herself again, although her voice still trembled with rage. Was this the anger that always burned in her blood, brought to the surface by the sight of its cause?

"We should have a head start because I made sure to deprive them of the other boat, but we don't have time to kill these Thalmor. I'm sorry." Serana put a hand on Sithia's shoulder. Her rigid shoulder. She'd be so stiff if she couldn't do something to relax her Dragonborn. But what? Maybe…

"We could run through the enclosure. My father's servants might well kill these elves for us, especially if they're hungry." Serana chuckled. "Not that there's any 'if' about it. Vampires are always thirsty."

"Tempting, but they'll have prisoners in that keep. While death would be a merciful and welcome release for them, they don't deserve to be vampire food in the process."

"And we don't have time to put them out of their misery. I'm sorry."

"I've told you, you can't apologise for other people. The Thalmor are the ones who should be sorry, not that they ever are."

"You do realise that those vampires might kill them all anyway?"

"If they do, it's not on my conscience." Sithia added under her breath, "There's more than enough on that already."

"We've all done things we regret," Serana murmured, resisting the urge to ask what was weighing down Sithia's conscience.

They crept past the palisade, Sithia unable to resist stabbing the lone guard by the gates. Serana was equally unable to resist draining him dry before the stab wound could kill him.

"Mmm, now that I don't regret. Been a long time since I tasted Altmer, although still so bland compared to you."

Once they were out of sight of the Thalmor stronghold, Sithia paused, checking her map. "How are you going to confuse our pursuers?"

"You're not going to like it."

"…This involves bleeding, doesn't it?"

Serana attempted to look suitably sorry. It wasn't easy, not when she knew she'd soon be experiencing the sweet temptation of Sithia's spilled blood. "They won't be able to smell anything else for a while. Your blood is something else."

Sithia groaned and removed her right gauntlet. "Let's get this over with."

They caught up with the rowboat just as it started to drift away. Serana had to swim out to retrieve it, and sat in sullen silence until the cold wind dried her off. It brought a snowstorm within an hour, blanketing them both and the boat in snow. They had to shovel it out with their hands, as it wouldn't help them if it got too deep, or worse, melted.

"Beautiful weather, at least it'll make it harder for my father's lackeys."

"At least you don't feel it! I swear you complain about snow as much as you do about the sun."

"Actually I do feel it, so that little swim I had getting this boat? It wasn't pleasant. It just doesn't hurt me." Her annoyance faltered at the sight of Sithia, her eyes closed and hugging herself, shivering. "Are you all right?"

Sithia cracked her eyes open to briefly glance at her before they closed again. "For now, yes. There's a limit to what the enchantments on my armour can do. It resists the cold, it doesn't give me your immunity to it."

That was worrying. She'd have to keep a careful eye on her mortal. At least she'd have no problems staying awake to do so for the next few days, not after drinking that Altmer.

They reached Solitude's docks four days later, slowed by the storm. If not for the enchanted oars steering them clear of rocks, they'd have been delayed much longer, as they'd have had to walk and stop for rest on the way.

Hopefully now that she wasn't so cold, Sithia would be a bit more talkative, as she'd barely said a word since they got in the boat. Serana had been starting to wonder if she'd said or done something wrong, but judging by how often she'd had to wake Sithia from her nightmares – more than once every night – the Thalmor were likely the problem.

Then again, maybe she had said something wrong, as she'd tried to get Sithia to talk about those nightmares. She hadn't said anything since refusing to.

"I'm sorry."

Sithia paused on the road up to Solitude to frown back at her. "What for?"

"For whatever I did. Not leaving the subject of your nightmares well enough alone in this case."

"Serana, while I don't want to talk about it, I didn't mind your asking. It's…" She looked away awkwardly, clearing her throat. "It's good to know you care."

"Oh, good. I thought I must have done something to offend you, and that was the only thing I could think of."

"I'm sorry I made you think you had. It wasn't… I can't explain it, not now. It's not you. It's me."

"Now it sounds like you're breaking up with me." Serana sighed theatrically and laid a hand over her exposed chest. "My heart, how will I ever recover?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Sithia stormed ahead.

Serana grinned. That was more like it. Her grumpy Dragonborn was back. With any luck, the brooding one from their journey here wouldn't be back any time soon.

Serana had never been to Solitude. She'd only ever seen it in the distance from onboard the ship on the way to Winterhold. She'd marvelled at the size of the windmill, and the way the city extended over the great arch, nothing but sea below part of it.

Passing through the gates with Sithia, she caught a glimpse of the windmill over the rooftops, and of Castle Dour dominating the skyline, banners on the walls depicting a wolf's head against a crimson background. There had to be a story behind that. She'd have to ask Sithia, presuming she knew. Maybe that was something only a native of Skyrim would.

She almost walked into Sithia, who suddenly stopped, staring to the right. A large crowd had gathered, what looked like most of the people of Solitude. On the platform they were all watching, a helmetless, bearded guard had just nudged a prisoner into kneeling over a block. The executioner raised his axe and—

Serana blinked. Odd. Her fangs hadn't budged. Normally she'd have struggled to keep them sheathed with that much blood spilled. She stared at it, mystified. The dead man hadn't been afraid, so his blood smelled fine. Just not remotely appealing.

Then again… Her eyes were drawn to Sithia. With the finest blood so tantalisingly close, no wonder she wasn't interested in inferior sources. She'd only drunk that Thalmor because he was conveniently within reach.

"Justice!"

"Down with Ulfric, killer of kings!"

The shouts of the onlookers were a little too loud for Serana's sensitive hearing, this close to them.

Sithia remained staring at the condemned man's body after the last of the crowd witnessing the execution wandered away.

Serana nudged her. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." She didn't sound it, her voice almost as choked up as it had been around the Thalmor. Hopefully the brooding Sithia wasn't about to make an unwelcome return… If she did, at least it seemed possible to irritate her back into grumpiness.

"If you say so."

"Really, I am. That could've been me, that's all."

"What? You mean—"

"My warm welcome to Skyrim, not so long ago. A dragon interrupted when my head was on the block." Sithia turned and headed towards the first building inside the city walls, leaving Serana to look between her and the dead man.

It wasn't hard to believe that Sithia had done something to almost get herself executed. Probably something connected to those Thalmor. Whatever it was, that was one dragon she needed to thank, provided Sithia hadn't killed it back then.

Serana hurried after Sithia when she paused outside, waiting for her to catch up before she disappeared inside the Winking Skeever, as it called itself on the sign hanging outside it. Complete with a carved skeever. Charming. Presumably the inn.

The door opened to the warmth of the inn, and the resident bard singing her heart out about driving stormcloaks out with blood and steel. Whatever stormcloaks were. Something one of the crowd had shouted after the execution was repeated in song: down with this Ulfric King-Killer, and that they'd drink and sing on the day of his death.

Asking Sithia about that out here might draw unwelcome attention, as it sounded like the sort of thing everyone in Skyrim would know about.

Sithia returned from speaking to the innkeeper, clutching two keys. "Come on, he'll be bringing food to my room. Hot water for us too, whenever we want it."

"Do you know about this king killer they were singing about?"

Sithia swallowed the last of her stew and pushed the bowl aside, picking up her jug of milk and sipping from it. "Ulfric Stormcloak and his little rebellion. I have to sympathise with his reasons for it. The current civil war is because the Empire was forced to outlaw worship of Talos thanks to the Thalmor. He was a Nord, so Nords like Ulfric and his Stormcloaks really don't like that ban. Even the ones fighting for Empire probably only fight because it's His empire they're trying to save."

"Of course it would all come back to religion. What conflict doesn't? The Aedra and Daedra have a lot to answer for." This finally gave her an opening to ask something she'd been wondering about ever since she noticed the amulet Sithia wore. "Is that an Amulet of Mara?"

Sithia choked on her milk, and swiped a hand across her mouth, eyes wide. "Seriously? What is it with you Nords and ridiculously short courtships? We only met just over a week ago and… I didn't even know vampires could marry."

If she was capable of blushing, Serana's cheeks would have been crimson. "No! No, I'm not—I mean, you're great, really, but—" She cleared her throat. "I was asking because I haven't seen one since before I became a vampire. And vampires can't marry in the conventional way, even if we deserved to. I certainly couldn't ever ask for a blessing like that. My parents are only married because they already were as mortals."

Sithia relaxed and drank some more of her milk. "Makes sense. Can you even go inside a temple?"

"I can't imagine wanting to. It's uncomfortable to even see them, and shrines are just as bad. Amulets are only painful to the touch, they won't make me burst into flames or anything."

"I wasn't thinking of finding out, don't worry. And I'm not on the lookout for marriage, I actually wear it for the restoration boost." Sithia tapped her amulet. "Although if many more people I barely know express interest, I'm going to switch to my Amulet of Talos."

If this Talos had functioning amulets that would mean he really was a god… That Sithia had one might mean that she actually did worship him after all, so it would probably be best not to raise her doubts about his godhood.

"Why don't you wear it under your armour if you don't want proposals?"

"Don't you think I've tried? Turns out an Amulet of Mara is enchanted to be visible all the time. I've used an invisibility potion and it's still been there. I have to take it off if I don't want it to give me away."

Invisibility… Damn it. Like any ancient vampire, Serana could make herself invisible at will, provided she concentrated and nothing broke that concentration. It was something she preferred to do instead of resorting to her monstrous form, but as long as the Scroll's ethereal presence stuck to her, any mage would be able to feel her presence.

It might even make it easier for their pursuers to find them. Damn it. Fuck it! She had to get rid of it. But how?

Sithia would have no idea or she'd have suggested something back when they were trying to hide the Scroll instead of taking it up to her father's castle.

Wait…

Sithia's amulet. Serana wouldn't be able to wear it herself, and it wasn't powerful enough to overshadow the Elder Scroll's aura anyway, but a shrine?

Well, it seemed that she would be eating her words tonight. Because Serana suddenly could imagine wanting to go inside a temple. Although 'want' wasn't quite right. No, it was 'need'.

Damn it. This was not going to be pleasant.

"Where are you going?"

Serana paused by the door. "Out." If she told Sithia exactly what she was about to do, she'd either talk her out of it or insist on going with her. This had to be done, though, and Sithia needed her rest.

"Oh, right, you need to feed. Happy hunting."

She would need to feed. Before and after this. Going inside a temple while at her most vulnerable to sunlight and fire would be a pretty bad idea.

Of course, all of this was a very bad idea. Insane, actually.

The innkeeper gave her directions to the temple, and mentioned that it was always open. Hopefully no one else would be there for a little late night worshipping when she went, as it'd be a little obvious that something wasn't right.

Serana found herself a patrolling guard to snack on. The other alternative, a sleeping beggar reeking of skooma, didn't smell remotely appealing. Not that the guard did when compared to Sithia, but then no one did. At least he'd only had a bit of mead a little too recently. He'd be in trouble for sleeping on the job if one of his comrades found him, as she'd left him slumped against a wall, unconscious from the blood loss.

She broke into Angeline's Aromatics, the alchemist's shop next door to the inn, to see about appropriating an invisibility potion. She might need one in the temple if anyone was around – there was no way she'd be able to concentrate enough to use her own power after touching a shrine. There was no such potion to be found, but a rummage through the shelves turned up some vampire dust and nirnroot, so she made her own. Hopefully she wouldn't need to use it, as it would taste horrible, containing the remains of her own kind.

Pocketing the potion, Serana made her way outside and up the zigzagging path to the castle. The temple was across the castle courtyard, walled in with its own smaller courtyard set up for a wedding. A high status wedding, judging by the thrones set up for bride and groom. Then again, if Skyrim was anything like it had been, most weddings took place at the temple of Mara, wherever that was now. This was the temple of all Divines, which presumably meant that Solitude was currently Skyrim's capital. Windhelm had been, back when she'd been mortal.

Serana forced herself to walk over to the double doors. She wanted nothing more than to turn back and get out of here. She reluctantly reached over to push the doors open. She snatched her hand back, hissing. The hallowed wood stung her skin. That was worse than sunlight.

She braced herself. It'd be even worse inside. She shouldered the door open. And promptly doubled over, biting back a cry of pain. She could barely see. It was almost like staring into the sun, the very air blinding bright. She couldn't hear anything other than her own sluggish heartbeat.

Serana fumbled for the potion. There might be a priest or priestess inside and she'd have no idea until she blundered into them. She took half of it. The silver lining to being in this horrible place was that all of her senses were deadened. She couldn't taste the potion at all. She held up her hand. From what little she could see, it had vanished from sight.

She stumbled further inside, arms outstretched. All but blind, she needed to feel her way to the shrines. She still bumped into the benches, wincing at the contact with wood radiating with Aedric worship. It got worse and worse with every step, although she could actually see the shrines now, shining white-hot. Throwing her arm across her closed eyes didn't help, it still seared through.

Serana forced herself to stagger over to the shrine that burned brightest. A dragon swallowing a sword. Akatosh, greatest of the Aedra. Face turned away, arm still attempting to shield her eyes, she blindly reached out.

Her world exploded in agony.

Awareness slowly returned. From where she lay on the polished stone floor, she couldn't see or hear anything. She felt only pain. Everything ached, and her hand… it burned. Her throat felt raw. Thirst – she needed to feed, to heal – but also as if she'd been screaming. She needed to get out of here before anyone investigated. Serana downed the last of the invisibility potion and crawled away.

Once outside, her senses slowly recovered. First hearing, then sight, and finally smell. She sniffed. Something was sickeningly sweet… burning flesh. She looked down at her hand.

"Ouch!"

Akatosh's head was seared onto her palm, the burn still smoking. Despite the blessing of the night in her ancient blood, it wasn't healing. She needed to feed. Problem being that she wasn't in any shape to hunt, even that beggar was beyond her at the moment. She'd never make it that far.

Serana struggled to her feet and limped back to the inn. She had just enough power left to make sure the guards ignored her, and to ensure anyone still awake in the inn wouldn't take any notice of her.

Persuading Sithia's door to unlock took too much out of her. She twisted the doorknob and fell inside. She lay gasping on the floorboards for a moment and crawled forwards, kicking the door shut. She pulled herself over to the bed and up onto shaky legs.

Sithia slept restlessly, whimpering and muttering. Another nightmare, although at least this one wasn't bad enough for her Thu'um to play up.

Serana had just enough presence of mind left to remember to retrieve Sithia's dagger and set it down out of her reach. She gently shook her Dragonborn awake.

Sithia reached for where her dagger had been, aborting the movement when her eyes focused on Serana.

"Serana?" She glanced at the window. "Still night… What's—"

"Can you feel it?"

Sithia rubbed at her eyes and yawned. "Feel what? Can't it wait until—"

"The Scroll, can you feel it on me?"

"Of course I can—Wait." She pushed herself up on her elbows. "I can't. How…"

"It worked. Good." Serana finally let herself collapse.

AN: So, who thinks Serana is a pretty stupid vampire?

Coming up next: a revealing and frustrating night in Whiterun.