Sundas, 27th of Sun's Dusk, 4E202
"Has your sense of smell gotten better?"
"No."
"Are your eyes more sensitive to light?"
"No."
"Have you had a difficult time being awake during the day, or found yourself reluctant to go outside when the sun is out?"
"Well, I'm tired a lot, but I don't mind the sun."
"Does she usually look this pale?"
"This is about normal? But she gets kind of chalky when she's sick."
"That would be the anemia. These mornings when you wake up and feel dizzy and short of breath, does your neck usually ache on one side? As if the muscle is bruised?"
Deirdre fiddled with her fingers in her lap. Head Priestess Danica Pure-Spring waited for her reply, she and Aela standing over her like watchful hawks, as if she might transform into a bloodsucking monster at any second.
"I thought I just slept on it funny …"
"But that's a yes?"
Deirdre squeezed her hands together. "Yes."
The priestess clicked her tongue, drawing close to Deirdre and gesturing for her to lift her face. Using her thumbs to gently pull down the skin below Deirdre's eyes, she instructed her to look this way and that. She examined Deirdre's teeth, the color of her tongue, the thickness of her fingernails, the rate of her pulse, and even pricked her finger to see how well the blood flowed. She cleaned the blood off before summoning a yellow glow to her hands, healing the wound. Her hands moved to hover over either side of Deirdre's neck.
A second time, the priestess clicked her tongue. "I'm detecting residual bruising, deep down. Both sides. Probably was swapping back and forth."
Deirdre's stomach flipped. As the glow in the priestess's hands flared brighter, she felt a previously unnoticed, dull ache ease out of her neck.
Priestess Danica stepped back, her healing light snuffing out. She rubbed a finger under her chin, gaze critical.
"She's got all the markers of vampiric predation, except in two aspects. I can't quite understand it."
She glanced at Aela, who nodded for her to continue.
"First is this fever you've described. Sanguinare Vampiris, the vampire disease, does not cause fever. It does the opposite; victims usually experience a decrease in body temperature, until the pathogen completes the transformation and the heart stops beating entirely."
Goosebumps rose all up Deirdre's arms. She pressed a hand to her chest.
"The second is how many times she's been bitten, and yet she's not displaying any vampiric symptoms. Anemia, yes. But her senses haven't sharpened, and she's not avoiding sunlight, and she hasn't had any violent outbursts or odd cravings. Physically, she looks perfectly normal."
"And that's unusual," Aela summarized.
Priestess Danica nodded. "It would be one thing if this were a particularly weak vampire, with a particularly weak pathogen, and it was taking a long time for the infection to set in. But there's no sign of an infection at all. It's as if she's been bitten by a mad animal, several times, without catching the madness."
Deirdre didn't like how the priestess had shifted to talking to Aela as if she weren't there. She also didn't like the note of mystified fascination in the priestess's voice, as if she were intrigued. It made her feel like a specimen.
"So does she need any treatment, or what?" Aela asked.
The priestess tapped the amulet of Kynareth around her neck. "I'll give her a blessing, just to help her recover. But she should continue to take the potion my other healer prescribed, and she needs to refrain from exerting herself. At the rate she's losing blood, it's a miracle she isn't fainting on a regular basis."
Both women eyed her, Aela with wary concern, Priestess Danica with keen curiosity. Deirdre lowered her gaze.
Apparently, someone out there—some sentient, calculating being—had been invading her mind and manipulating her body like a puppet. Without her knowledge. At night. For weeks. While she was in her nightclothes. Deliberately drawing her from the safety of Jorrvaskr and the Companions, putting hands on her. Putting a mouth on her neck, which would have been bad enough on its own, but then sinking fangs into her skin and actually sucking the blood out of her.
Her skin crawled violently. She felt exposed. Tainted.
She'd already deduced that the vampires had to be that strange pale couple she'd encountered in Arcadia's Cauldron, back when Vilkas was sick; they must have followed her home without her realizing it. She vividly recalled the way the man had come close and brazenly inhaled her scent under the guise of smelling her perfume. Why hadn't she thought that incident worth mentioning before now?
Her imagination repeatedly conjured a scene of that man pulling her into an embrace, leering and sinking his teeth into her neck. She kept trying to banish the imagery, but wasn't succeeding.
"Deirdre?" Aela called.
Deirdre started. She'd been curling into herself, fists clenched over her heart, and only now realized the women had been talking.
"Sorry, what?"
"Is it all right if the priestess blesses you now?" Aela repeated.
"Oh. Yes. Thank you."
Aela and Priestess Danica exchanged pitying glances, again as if Deirdre weren't there. Deirdre hugged her arms as the priestess put a glowing hand on her head and recited a prayer. Once she'd finished, Deirdre thanked her again and slid off the high, narrow bed.
"I need some air," she said, not looking at either of them.
She didn't wait for a reply. As the door of the sick room closed behind her, she heard the women starting another conversation.
Deirdre put on her red cloak and held it close to her body as she walked out of the Temple of Kynareth. The sky was cloudy, the light gray. The snow on the ground was dirt-speckled and dull.
Following the path stomped through the snow by many feet, she headed for the Gildergreen and paused at the wooden fence that encircled it. She stared up at the bare, ice-encrusted branches, listening to the ambient sounds of Whiterun. Of all the people bustling about outside this quiet square, oblivious to the fact that a vampire or two was at large in their city.
The vampires wouldn't be among those bustling people. The sunlight shining through the clouds may have been weak, but it was enough to protect her. For now.
But when will the vampires bewitch you again?
She put her hands atop the fence and leaned on them, bowing her head and shutting her eyes. She'd been too afraid to ask if vampires had carnal cravings for anything other than blood. If a man was still a man even after becoming undead. It was bad enough knowing she'd been fed on; she wasn't sure she could handle knowing anything else. Surely, though, she would have noticed if he'd hurt her some other way?
You didn't notice you were being bitten. So who's to say?
The fence dug into her palms where she gripped it, the pain a welcome distraction from the mounting disgust and panic flooding her veins. Then she heard a voice.
"Deirdre?"
Her eyes flew open.
"What are you doing at the temple?" he asked.
Her heart tripped over itself.
No. Not you. Not right now.
Footsteps approached. She whirled to face him.
There he stood, between her and the temple, startled by her sudden movement. His nose and lips were rosy from the cold, his freckles washed out and hard to see under the diluted sunlight. Even his hair didn't have its usual ruddy glow.
But his eyes—They looked the same as they always did. Vibrant and expressive, and fixed on her. Worry pulling his brows together.
It was a slap in the face, those eyes. That expression. A squeezing ache seized her chest.
"Are you still getting sick?" Leif asked, pitch rising.
Her throat constricted, the ache in her chest expanding. She did not even know what emotions were crashing through her, just that several of them hit her at once.
How could it be that he was standing there, looking so familiar and pretty and so much like Leif? How dare he? As if she needed a fresh dose of this problem on top of the vampires. As if she needed the shock of seeing him, looking utterly unchanged, after nearly three weeks of her withdrawals and tears and anger.
Without a word, she strode past him toward the temple. But she heard him coming after her.
"Wait!"
She ignored him. She grabbed the handle of the temple door, only for Leif's arm to dart around her, his hand closing over hers. A shock ran through her.
Leif held the door shut. "Wait," he said again, more measured.
Some feeling strangled her already tight throat. There was too much to react to, too much vying for control of her emotions.
"Get away from me," she said, voice strained.
He removed his hand, but did not retreat. She could feel him behind her. Too close, like the sun itself had come down from the sky to stand at her back. Too warm, searing and intense and uncomfortable, tempting her to turn and look directly into it. But that would blind her, and she could not afford to be blind right now.
"I just want to know if you're unwell," Leif said. "Did you already see a healer?"
Deirdre gritted her teeth. "That's none of your business."
"Is it something serious? You looked really upset over there."
Deirdre broke away from him, stomping along the wall of the temple. Her heart was throbbing furiously.
"If you don't tell me, I'm going to go ask the Companions!" Leif called.
Deirdre halted. She spun on her heel, glaring at him with every ounce of ire she could muster. Still the sight of him was almost too much; meeting those eyes was like punching a fist through her chest.
"What are you even doing here?" she spat. He had to have known there was a chance he'd run into her in this neighborhood, since Jorrvaskr was just on the opposite side of the square.
Leif looked her up and down, taking a breath. "I was just bringing a donation to the temple."
Of course. He just had to be doing something commendable.
Deirdre crossed her arms. "Nice to see the Battle-Borns can scrape something together for the temple. I would have thought all your charity was going to the Legion."
She was glad to see the flash of hurt in his eyes. But he straightened, putting on an uncharacteristically stoic expression. "Actually, we have more than enough money to go around. We can easily support both of them."
It was another slap to the face. He wasn't even remotely apologetic about it—Not that being apologetic would have made supporting the Legion any less reprehensible.
"How wonderful," she ground out. She motioned sharply toward the temple door. "Go ahead and hand out your money then."
He shook his head. "Don't be like this. I just want to know if you're going to be all right. If you need special care—"
"If I needed special care, the last person I would turn to is a friend of the Empire. I've seen how much care you people are capable of."
His face fell. The sorrow in his eyes was not just for himself—it was absolutely for her. He hurt for her. And in spite of how she tried to be furious, in spite of how she tried to project nothing but pure hostility, that fist in her chest closed around her heart.
"You know what I see at the end of the day?" Vilkas had said. "You miss him."
Damn Vilkas. She turned her back on Leif and resumed walking, choking down the wounded lumps of her heart, only to once again hear footsteps. The next thing she knew, warm hands had gripped her shoulders. She stiffened.
"I'm not your enemy, Deirdre," Leif said, quiet but firm. His hands slid down to her upper arms, squeezing gently. "And I am capable of caring. Even if you don't want me to."
For the briefest moment, he drew her closer. Then he released her, and the warmth of him was gone.
Deirdre listened as his boots crunched through the snow back toward the temple door, and as the door opened and shut to admit him. A light breeze tickled her frozen face. She took a stiff step. Then another, and another, quickening her stride. Trying to outpace her own thoughts, lest she think something dangerous about going after him.
"You know what I see at the end of the day?"
Damn Vilkas. Damn Leif. Damn vampires.
She shouldered open the door to Jorrvaskr, all but running to her and Tilma's room. She dropped to her knees beside her bed and dropped her head into her arms atop it, biting hard on her inner lip. It was too much. There was too much. She tried to redirect all of it into anger; anger would be easiest to deal with.
There came a gentle rapping at her door. Deirdre raised her head to see Farkas in the doorway, with his knuckles against the frame.
"You're back from the healer," he stated, his mismatched eyes full of worry. Like Leif's had been.
There was no point confirming the obvious, so she just turned her face away.
"What happened?" Farkas asked.
The back of her throat itched, a prickle in her eyes and nose. "It's—I'm—"
Farkas's weight made the bed dip beside her, and he put a heavy hand atop her head. The gesture disarmed her completely. Tears swam up over her vision, too much not to spill over. She buried her face in her blanket to hide them, and Farkas's clunky hand gave her head a couple pats.
"I saw Leif," she blurted. "Outside the temple. And he was—nice to me."
After a moment, Farkas asked, "Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes," she choked out. "It makes it hard."
"Makes what hard?"
Hating him, she thought. Rejecting him. Staying away from him. Putting Gerdur and Hod first.
"I hate him," she insisted. "I—have to hate him. He lied to me."
Farkas patted her head again. "I guess he did."
"You know what I see at the end of the day?" Vilkas countered.
Damn Vilkas, she thought again. Damn Leif.
Damn all of them, come to think of it. All the men who'd ever hurt her. Damn Sven and Kensley and Brynjolf, and even that stupid elf from the archery competition; damn Jarl Balgruuf and General Tullius, and damn each and every man who'd ever wronged her in one way or another leading up to this entire disgusting day, where even an undead man had gone out of his way to take advantage of her because she was so easily taken advantage of and powerless and they could all see it—
"All men are liars," she spat, chasing the anger she wanted to feel, fanning the flames to escape the chill of vulnerability. "All of them! They're all dishonest and selfish. I hate them!"
"Me too?" Farkas asked.
Deirdre paused, sniffling, turning her face away and swiping a knuckle across her wet cheek. "Not you," she amended. "You're the only good one."
"What about Hod?"
Deirdre exhaled shakily, the urge to cry straining her throat. "And Hod."
"What about Kodlak?"
"Kodlak is good," she admitted.
Farkas made a thoughtful noise. His tone was a little odd, a little too curious, when he said, "What about Vilkas?"
Deirdre made a face, though he couldn't see it. She reached up and lifted his hand off of her head, holding onto it and glaring at it as if it were his twin's.
"I'm mad at him."
"Why?"
"He—"
The words, "lied too" died on her lips. She wasn't mad about his thoughtless lie in Riften anymore, truth be told. She'd thrown that jab at him last night because she couldn't throw a jab at Leif. And then Vilkas had done the opposite of lying, and she didn't like that either. He'd made her feel like a hypocrite on so many levels. And worst of all—
"You miss him."
"I'm just mad," she said, voice breaking. She didn't sound mad. She was the one lying now.
Farkas made that thoughtful sound. He made no move to recover his hand from her grip, apparently thinking something over as she knelt there with tears trickling down her cheeks.
"Well, besides seeing Leif, how was the temple? What did the healer say?"
Deirdre gripped his hand a little tighter, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "She basically just said it seems like a vampire."
Farkas nodded, not surprised. "Are you … infected?"
Deirdre shook her head.
"That's at least good news," Farkas offered.
She nodded, feeling her lips turning down at the corners. In her head, the pale man reached for her with that imagined leer.
"Hey," Farkas said, shifting his hand to place on her forearm. "It's gonna be all right. We're gonna take care of it."
Finally, Deirdre looked up at him. He had this semi-determined, semi-anxious look on his face, and she was struck by the thought that he looked like a large puppy. Unsure of how exactly to comfort her, but trying anyway.
She got up off the floor and sat next to him and hugged him, not able to get her arms all the way around. Farkas's returning hug did not have the same problem.
They were like that when Aela walked into the room. She raised a brow, eyes flicking from Farkas to Deirdre's tear-streaked face, and put her hands on her hips.
"You disappeared on me," she accused.
Deirdre didn't let go of Farkas. "Sorry."
Aela scoffed. She looked at them a moment longer before shaking her head. "Well, anyway. Thought you ought to know, Pure-Spring just gave us a job."
Deirdre and Farkas released each other in surprise.
"What do you mean, she gave you a job?" Deirdre asked.
Aela held up both hands and shrugged. "Apparently having vampires within the city counts as a public safety issue, so she wants to hire us for some pest control. I mean, I would have hunted down the bastards anyway, but who am I to turn down good gold?"
"I want on the job too," Farkas said immediately.
Aela nodded. "We should have the whole Circle on it, I think. Vampires can be tough, and we don't know if there are more than the two Deirdre saw in that shop."
A new wave of anxiety took hold of Deirdre. More than two vampires?
"When you say they can be tough …?"
"They're stronger than humans, and usually have a little magic up their sleeves. But it's nothing the Circle can't handle."
Aela and Farkas made eye contact, something wordless passing between them.
"We should talk to Vilkas," Farkas announced, standing. "And Kodlak."
"My thoughts exactly."
They moved to leave, and Deirdre, thinking quickly, stood as well. The Companions paused.
"I want to know what the plan is," Deirdre said.
They exchanged a look again, and Deirdre got the distinct impression they were reluctant. And yes, while she had just been quite upset, and visibly so, and was still upset, did they really think she was so fragile she couldn't handle discussing the vampires? It was her problem more than theirs.
"I need to know what the plan is," she emphasized, wiping her cheeks dry with the backs of her hands.
Farkas's reluctance melted into sympathy, and he turned to Aela as if siding with Deirdre. Aela rolled her eyes.
"I can't fight both of your sad faces," she griped, holding up a hand as if to block her view of them. She strode for the door with a beckoning wave. "Come on, then. Let's go figure out how we're gonna kill some vampires."