What?
Saya blinked once, twice. She heard words being spoken but they entered her mind as incoherent noise. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she felt her knees wobble. She wanted to vomit yet her throat felt too tight to even breathe.
How? Why here?
She knew what Illia said. She knew but couldn't understand. The noise grew more distorted by the moment as she stared into nothing with hollow eyes, the image of a mask burnt into her brain. She tried to inhale. She tried to exhale. She couldn't.
"Saya?" Serana called out quietly, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. She had collapsed, sitting on the cold ground with trembling lips and glassy eyes, her whole body shaking and her mouth opening and closing in shallow breaths. The vampire frowned and leaned closer, asking: "Saya? Are you okay?"
Finally, Saya's head turned. She was on the verge of tears, shivering at the touch. "Away," she managed to whisper amidst incoherent, raspy exhales. Serana felt a chill run down her back as a trembling hand grabbed her sleeve with a dead grip. "Please?" She lifted her eyes and finally looked at Serana directly.
She nodded. "Okay."
With a bit of effort, she helped Saya to her feet. They walked back with slow, uneven steps. To each and every aggravated "Watch it!" Serana muttered an apology through gritted teeth. It was almost like the crowd was all too glad to push them out. Maybe they were. She had bigger concerns at the moment.
Eventually, they found a place to rest - the doorstep of some tavern or another. 'Candlehearth Hall', as the sign read. Saya did not sit so much as she was sat down onto the stone step, still pale and trembling out of her own skin. Her hands were grasping the rim of her cloak, trying to wrap it around herself like some sort of blanket. Gently, Serana moved the hood off her head and Saya's ears twitched at the stinging cold.
"Are you feeling any better?" She asked gently, kneeling in front of her. Saya did not respond, but instead shook her head in jerky motion. Serana frowned briefly before her expression softened. "Would you… like something to drink?"
Drink. The word sank into Saya's mind like a stone slowly swallowed by mud. She drew a deep breath and the cold air burned her from within. Hot- no, cold. Her throat was parched. She needed something to drink. Something strong. Something that stings. Something to distract, to burn, to forget. She nodded slowly.
"Alright." Serana smiled and leaned forward, placing her hand on Saya's purse. On reflex, she grabbed the vampire's wrist. They stared at each other silently. A moment later, she let go, and Serana stepped back with a handful of coin. "I will be back soon, okay?" Serana asked. Another meek nod in response. Hood back up, eyes closed, ears hidden. She only heard the muffled sound of her boots against the stone stairs as she left.
Saya hugged her knees when she heard the door close. Her cheeks felt hot against the cold metal. Only now, as she wondered why she couldn't cry, did she realize she was not shaking with fear.
It was rage.
"Excuse me, would you happen to have any hot drinks?"
The tavern owner, Elda Early-Dawn, lifted her eyes off the counter and looked at the patron standing before her. She regarded Serana with a long, somewhat judgemental gaze before giving a slow nod. "Aye. What do you want, mead? Wine? We're fresh out of Black-Briar, so don't bother asking for that."
Serana scratched her temple awkwardly. "I was thinking more along the lines of tea… Would that be possible?"
Elda blinked slowly, looking the patron up and down once again. Her clothes looked foreign. Didn't recognize her face. Must be one of them traveling folks again. Just what Windhelm needs… She nodded. "Sure. Got some guelder rose berries lying around. Ten gold."
Serana counted off twenty coins and placed them on the counter. "Two of those, please. Thank you." Elda murmured something in response to her thanks and pocketed the gold before she turned around and went to set a kettle.
Serana released a soft sigh once the woman left. The tavern seemed appropriately empty for an afternoon. Occasionally she would see a servant girl run downstairs from the second floor and walk into the back, coming out with a tray of drinks or a meal and carrying it back to the customers. Serana felt a little apprehensive at her… revealing manner of dress, but made no comment. The more inebriated patrons had that covered, much to her discomfort.
After a couple minutes of waiting, Elda returned with two wooden tankards filled with a pleasant-smelling red liquid. "Here you go," she said in a slightly sour tone, nursing a hand with a visible burn spot on it. Serana thanked her once more, picking up the two tankards and pushing open the door with her shoulder.
Saya was still sitting outside, more or less the same as Serana left her. She seemed a little calmer now, staring off into the distance. "Hey," Serana called out so as to not startle her. Saya half-turned to see who it was before she once again returned to staring blankly in that same direction. Serana sat down next to her and offered her the tea. "Here, your drink. Be careful, it is still quite hot." Saya hummed something in acknowledgment and took the drink, letting it cool.
The two of them sat like that for some time. Serana looked around awkwardly, trying to follow Saya's gaze but eventually realizing there wasn't actually anything in particular she was looking at. She seemed almost completely absorbed in her own thoughts, whatever they may have been. The vampire tried to start conversation a few times, but it quickly tapered out. So they simply sat in heavy silence, watching the people skitter around in their day to day routines.
"He's still talking," Saya finally said. Her voice was hoarse and gravelly, her throat still parched. The tea in her hand had gone untouched. "I don't get it."
Serana turned to her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I don't fucking understand." Serana practically recoiled at the venom in her words. She was still staring dead ahead, eyes wide and focused on nothing, tense fingers gripping a wooden handle. "I warned them. I tried. They almost killed me once, set fire to an innocent village, done Seht knows what else to other people, and he's just… there. And everyone else, they're listening to him. He's preaching total fucking insanity and they're… listening. Agreeing, even."
Saya was trembling again by the time she finished talking. Serana saw how she bounced her leg nervously, how the tankard shook in her unsteady hands, how her breaths had grown uneven and ragged.
She placed her drink down and scooched closer to Saya, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. "Do you want to leave?"
Saya did not immediately respond. The word 'yes' was on her tongue and it tasted of bile. She waited. She couldn't say that. It took physical effort for her to shake her head. "I can't. Not knowing that…" She sighed. "I just can't."
"I SAID, THIS IS OUR CITY, YOU STUPID GREY-FACED WHORE!"
Both Saya and Serana turned sharply in the direction of the noise. By the tavern's other entrance was a couple of drunken Nords - one dressed in rags and chuckling to himself while another, marginally better-dressed and sporting a horrid handlebar mustache, was spouting profanities at a cornered Dunmer woman who was looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else at the moment.
"YOU come here when you're not wanted, YOU eat our food-" the man continued spitting accusations, stopping only for a cough that sounded like he wanted to barf his lungs out. Immediately after, he took another swig of whatever cheap ale he was holding in his hand and continued: "Youuu… Reeking bastards, parasites, thieves - the whole lot of you. All you do is take, take, take, and then you have the balls to say it's not your fight?"
"Hey- hey, listen," the man next to him leaned closer, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "What if the reason they're not helping the Stormcloaks… is because they're Imperial spies?" He laughed, slapping the other man on the back before stepping closer to the woman, who visibly recoiled at this approach. "Whaddya say? You know what we do to spies around here, huh?"
"Imperial- are you insane?!" The woman cried, pushing him back. The man only giggled drunkenly, barely swayed by the effort. She glanced around frantically, looking back at the people going about their day to see if anyone - anyone - was seeing any of this. When she saw no one, she shouted as loudly as she could: "Get away from me!"
The mustached drunk clicked his tongue in amusement. "Well, would you look at that - looks like our little spy got some fight in her after all!" He elbowed his friend, their bellowing laughter ringing out across the street.
That was when he felt a hand grab him by the collar, stopping him halfway through.
"I would advise you to cease this." Both men turned around at the voice coming from behind them, cutting through the bustle of the city. Staring them down with a cold, furious glare was Serana. "I trust neither of you want the guard involved. I suggest you leave that woman well alone and go about your business. Now." The woman behind them lifted her eyes, looking at Serana with hopeful eyes.
The two Nords exchanged hazy looks. For a moment, there was almost a spark of hope in Serana's mind that she had gotten through. Then, they both flashed wolfish grins and turned to her. "Hear that, Rolff? She thinks the guard should get involved."
The man with the handlebars - Rolff, as Serana learned - threw back his head in laughter. "Guard? You want to call the guard? For what? To defend this grey-skinned shit over here?" He pointed at the woman behind them, who visibly flinched at the motion. "You must be new here if you think that any real Nord gives a damn about these maggots. Or are you one of them elf-lovers, too? Want to see what we do with those around here?!" Rolff barked with slurred speech and Serana hesitated for just a moment. Rolff didn't miss the change in her expression and grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard. Now be a good, upstanding citizen, leave us to our fun, and fuck off to… urgh, wherever the hell you came from."
Serana struggled to maintain her stoic facade as outrage bubbled underneath. If her heart were beating, she would hear it in her ears. She heard whispers from behind herself. Amused chuckles. Hushed conversation. Dozens of eyes, passing gazes not stopping for longer than a few seconds before moving on. Serana's fists tightened and hoarfrost gathered at her fingertips.
"Wait." Serana paused mid-step as she felt a hand grab her sleeve. She turned to the side and saw Saya, still holding her tankard, come down to her. "Let me have a word," she said. Her tone was surprisingly neutral and calm. Perplexed, Serana could do little more than stand aside as her friend walked right past her with even steps and tapped Rolff on the shoulder.
"Huh? Who the hell are-" his words were immediately cut off as Saya splashed the tankard of scalding hot tea right in his face. Suddenly the crowd grew a bit more aware of the commotion, watching the Nord grab his face and cry out a stream of agonized curses. Saya watched him writhe for a few seconds with an uncaring gaze until his beggar friend turned around. His face quickly shifted from confusion to anger.
"Why you little…!" He slurred as he wound up for a punch with his whole body weight. Saya watched him take one step, two - and then quickly moved to the side, tripping him onto the ice-crusted ground. This was followed by a swift kick, the metal boot impacting his side with a dull ring. Must've hit a rib, Saya thought idly.
She was quickly pulled out of that thought by a heavy punch to the cheek. She stumbled back, barely able to keep her footing. She looked up and saw an enraged Rolff charge towards her, grab her shoulders and try to kick her in the stomach. Immediately, he cried out as his knee impacted the solid steel of her chestplate. Saya immediately took the chance to return the favor with a kick to his groin. Rolff's cry of pain turned into a horrible whine as he doubled over and collapsed onto the ground, cursing her to hell and back.
By this point a bit of a crowd was starting to gather as people were stopping to gawk. Serana stood there with mouth agape. Her eyes searched for a way to help, to get involved. Suddenly she remembered the Dunmer woman - but already, she was nowhere to be seen, having taken off as soon as her harassers were distracted. Soon, some within the crowd began shouting for someone to stop them, others laughing and cheering them on. Serana couldn't hear her own thoughts over the ruckus.
That is, until three men in chainmail and blue cloaks pushed past the onlookers and shouted: "By order of the Jarl, stop right there!" Both of the drunks looked over at the guards. Using the brief distraction, Saya broke out of the beggar's grapple and pushed him away, taking a few steps back for distance. Seeing this, one of the men took the axe off his belt and raised it in warning. "Not another twitch from you, elf. Hands up where I can see them, right now!"
Saya's face contorted with disgust and shock. "What? Are you morons out of your-"
"I said HANDS UP!" The guard shouted once again and his posse unsheathed their weapons as well. "This is an order, I'm not telling you a third time." Saya clicked her tongue in irritation and complied. The guard up front approached her, putting the axe back and pulling out a piece of rope to bind her hands together.
At that point, Serana herself had to step in. "Wait!" The guard lifted his head, disinterested eyes staring at her from behind the helmet. "You must not take her- she was only stepping in for another person! These two were going to assault a woman, she-"
"What woman?" The guard interjected and Serana swallowed nervously. "Name, description?"
"I- I do not know her name. She was a Dunmer - long dark hair, white shirt, dark green dress. She was here just a moment ago." The guard looked around with lazy eyes and then sighed. "I swear, we asked them to stop, she only stepped in because-"
"We? So you were involved, eh?" He interrupted her again, and Serana felt a chill run down her spine. That was not a question. That was a warning. "You a friend of hers?" He asked again in that same low, creeping tone.
"I've never seen this woman before," Saya suddenly spoke up, turning to her with a polite, impersonal smile. She gave a small bow. Serana took the cue, pushing past the ache in her chest and nodding. "Thank you for your defense, sera, but it will be unnecessary."
The guard looked back and forth between the two of them before he turned to the crowd and called out: "Hey, rabble! Did any of you see a dark elf around here?!" As he spoke, he looked around the entire street. There were some murmurs here and there, the unconfident shuffling of bystanders that didn't want to get involved. Serana had to fight not to let the disdain show in her eyes. The guard turned to her. "See? No woman, no witnesses. Now move along, unless you want to get taken in for giving false information."
Serana stood speechless as Saya's hands were bound and she was handed over to one of the other guards. Then the leader walked past her and helped Rolff to his feet, muttering something about a man named Galmar and how he 'won't be happy about this'. The crowd quickly dispersed afterward, leaving Serana alone in quiet shock. As they led Saya away, she heard one of them say that he 'didn't know them grey-skins came in brown, too'. It made her stomach turn.
A minute later, she was left with nothing but a quiet street and the distant echo of a preacher's sermon.
Tirdas, the 6th of Morning Star, 4E202
The sound of Saya's cell door creaking open stabbed her ears and she sat up with a tired sigh. She got precious little sleep that night. She had low expectations for a Windhelm jail's comfort, but the bed of a few shovels' worth of straw lazily draped with a hide that probably hasn't been washed since the poor cow kicked the bucket still left a poor impression. The only saving grace was the lack of a window, which would normally be a downside but now was just about the only thing keeping her cell from getting any colder.
"Breakfast time already?" Saya quipped, raising an amused eyebrow at the scowling guard before her. Those jokes were just about her only source of amusement over the past twenty hours. The locals didn't appreciate it.
"Get up. Jarl Ulfric is going to judge you now," the man told her in a gruff, unpleasant voice. Saya hummed in amusement and obliged, brushing the straw and dust off herself. Among the precious few blessings she could count was the fact that they allowed her to keep her clothes, even if it was after a search that was perhaps a bit too long and a bit too thorough for her liking. Her weapons and armor were confiscated, though she couldn't exactly fault them for that.
Actually, she absolutely could. Fuck them.
The guard led her outside through the barracks, stopping at the vestibule where she was checked out yesterday. Once again, she had her wrists tied together. For 'safety', she was told. She only chuckled. If only they knew, the poor bastards.
Afterwards, she was led to the grand hall of the Palace of Kings. It was a large, beautiful building that she couldn't help but admire. It felt a little nostalgic, even. The vibrant blue drapery contrasted wonderfully with the black granite of the palace walls. A single long brown table stretched across the central section of the hall, its seats empty save for two - one occupied by Rolff with a bandaged eye and the other by his pal, Angrenor, nursing a cracked rib.
Overlooking it all was Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, sitting on his throne with a grim expression. On his left stood his modestly-dressed steward, Jorleif. To his right was his housecarl, Galmar Stone-Fist, who wore armor draped in so many bear furs one could've reasonably mistaken him for the animal if not for the two-handed axe on his back and a distinctly human permanent grimace.
Once everyone was properly assembled, Jorleif cleared his throat and stepped forward with an introduction: "My lord, before you stands the prisoner that our guards have apprehended yesterday. According to the guards' report, she was arrested by Candlehearth Hall after being found brawling with two of our citizens, Rolff Stone-Fist and Angrenor Once-Honored. She caused them both severe bodily harm-" Saya laughed internally, "-and was promptly apprehended by our guards. Onlookers say she did not resist arrest."
Ulfric listened to his steward patiently, nodding along with every new piece of information, and then took another look at everyone present. As expected of a man familiar with diplomacy, his expression remained mostly unchanged as his gaze traveled from person to person. Only when he reached Saya did his eyes stop momentarily. A flash of recognition? Saya gave a small bow in greeting, wearing a polite - if a little smug - smile on her face.
"Very well. Thank you, Jorleif." The steward nodded before stepping back to his spot. Ulfric turned to the two men, both of whom straightened a little. "Rolff. I trust I don't have to explain that Galmar being here means nothing."
"...especially if he got his arse kicked by a damn she-elf," his housecarl grumbled from Ulfric's side. Rolff swallowed nervously before bowing.
"Yes, your lordship."
Ulfric nodded. "Good. Then tell me what happened yesterday. Truthfully," the Jarl emphasized, and Saya had to suppress a giggle. It seemed as though this was not the first case Rolff had been brought to the Palace for such reasons. Once more, Rolff nodded. He seemed almost pitiful in that state of his.
"Of course. Yesterday, Angrenor and I went out to have a drink at Candlehearth. Then we had a walk around the city, sang some songs… I- I understand that we might've gotten a bit loud, but…" He stammered, all the confidence from yesterday seemingly vanished from his system along with the alcohol.
"Look at the Jarl when you're talking to him, whelp!" Galmar suddenly barked and Rolff nearly jumped out of his own boots. His back straight as a needle, he lifted his head and continued.
"Y-Yes, brother- I mean, housecarl." Rolff cleared his throat. "We did a round through the whole city and ran out of drinks after a while, so we came back for more. And there we found this bitch-" he pointed to Saya, who rolled her eyes, "-who came up to me and picked a fight. She splashed boiling hot water in my face and started throwing punches, so naturally we fought back. Then, the guards got involved and… here we are."
Once again, Ulfric's expression went unchanged as he listened to Rolff. This was in sharp contrast with Galmar, whose scowl only seemed to worsen as his little brother kept talking. Not allowing his housecarl the word, Ulfric replied: "I see. Angrenor?" He turned to the other man, who immediately stood up and gave a Stormcloak salute, perhaps out of old habit. "You were one of my soldiers, once. Can you confirm Rolff's story?"
Angrenor glanced briefly at his friend and then nodded. "Yes, your lordship. It is as he said. We went out for drinks, came back, and the elf threw the first punch. Damn near broke my ribs, too." Saya sighed. Almost? Shame. "I hope your lordship gives her the justice she deserves."
"I see," Ulfric said after a small pause. Then, he turned to Saya herself. She straightened her back and filtered the schadenfreude from her expression with debatable success. "Prisoner. You're now given word to introduce yourself and tell your side of the story. If you are found lying in court, you will be punished accordingly. You may speak."
"Thank you, muthsera." She gave a small bow and cleared her throat. "I am Saya. Yesterday around noon, I arrived at Windhelm on some personal business with a friend of mine. We were distracted by a public proceeding in front of the Palace and decided to have a drink at Candlehearth Hall to pass the time. That was when we witnessed a certain scene." Saya turned sharply towards Rolff, who glared back at her. "These two men, completely drunk, were harassing a woman just outside of the tavern-"
"Liar!" Rolff shouted. Immediately, a loud noise rang out through the hall as Galmar struck the floor with the pommel of his waraxe. A few seconds passed before Ulfric nodded for her to continue.
"...as I was saying, these two drunken louts were harassing and threatening a lone woman. My friend tried to intervene and asked them to stop, and was met with insults. When I saw that they were going to assault her, I stepped in. After that, it's more or less as they said," Saya finished. Ulfric stared at her for a few moments with that same expression of regal neutrality, thinking her words over.
"A woman, you say." Saya nodded and Ulfric's eyes narrowed. "The guard did not report any kind of assault on a woman. Not to mention in broad daylight."
Saya shrugged. "Of course not. She was a dark elf, after all." The words were spoken so lightly that the tense silence after them was positively palpable. Saya glanced over at Rolff. She could've bet good money that he was sweating under that jacket of his. "He even said as much, if I recall. That we 'must be new here' if we thought any 'real Nord gives a damn about those maggots', was it?" She asked politely, flashing the all-too-sober man a small smile as all eyes in court turned to him. An unspoken question hung in the air: was she saying the truth?
"S-She's lying, your lordship. I said no such thing!" Saya's smile faded at Rolff's weak defense. She figured that in any other court, she could count on a proper investigation. But given the circumstances, not to mention his relationship with the housecarl… "You can ask any of the guards, there was no such woman! She must've been drunk- no, a skooma-eater! That's the only explanation!"
"Enough." As Ulfric's lips parted, the entire Palace seemed to shudder at his word. Even Saya felt a tinge of alarm at the sudden use of the Voice. Ulfric shifted in his seat to lean forward, tenting his fingers in deep thought. For the first time, his face shifted to an expression that was… indecisive, if not troubled. Eventually, he turned to Saya once more. "Saya, was it?" She nodded. "If I am to believe what you have told, then these men stand guilty of assaulting a citizen of my city. Both of them tell a different story to yours, and so do the reports. Is that correct?"
She replied immediately. "Yes, muthsera."
"And by your own admission, you only came to my city yesterday. You are not a denizen. Correct?"
"That is correct." She nodded again. "In fact, I've only been in Skyrim for about half a year. Before this, I've never been."
Ulfric stared at her with narrowed eyes for a few long, long seconds. It was almost as though he was waiting for her to crack, to slip up, to show some kind of nervousness. "Then tell me: Why should I trust your word over that of my men?" Ulfric finally asked, looking Saya directly in the eye. Saya simply stared back, that same slight smile on your face.
"I dunno. You're the one with the evidence," she replied simply, yet no response came. She looked around at the perplexed faces and raised an eyebrow. "What? I mean, you said it yourself. You've got guards that only investigate until they have a body to throw in a cell, wardens that get handsy with the prisoners they search, witnesses that turn away the moment they realize it's an effort to be honest, and drunk morons who can do whatever the hell they want as long as it's not a Nord." She shrugged. "Against that mountain of veritable evidence, I've got nothing to give you. Only my word."
Once more, the grand hall of the Palace of Kings was plunged into a tense, heavy silence. Galmar looked like he was a hair away from snapping at her words. Jorleif's mouth turned into a thin line and he looked away, trying to find something else in the room to latch onto. Rolff and Angrenor looked pale as death, anger and apprehension mixed in their expressions. Ulfric himself was absolutely silent, wearing a grim look on his face. After a moment of contemplation, he lifted one hand in a gesture all too familiar to the guards: "Leave us."
Almost mechanically, the people within the hall began to shuffle around. Two guards came up to Rolff and Angrenor to lead them out of the Palace. Jorleif excused himself and left for his office. Galmar took the other guards with him, closing the door to the barracks behind himself. In less than a minute, Saya and Ulfric were left completely and utterly alone.
Ulfric was the first to speak. "You were at Helgen," he said, not a question but a statement that left no room for argument. The walls quaked with his Voice, a chill rumble that permeated the very air of the hall. And yet, Saya stood perfectly still.
"[Yes. I was.]" Once more, the stone shook from the dragon tongue that fell from her lips. Another thunderous echo, deep and dissonant, yet of a melody that was distinctly hers in a way that words could not articulate. Ulfric regarded her with a silent gaze and she smiled. "I take it you know who I am."
"I do," he replied. The two of them stared at each other wordlessly, taking in the tension in the room. Neither of them was exactly sure what to make of it. In her mind Saya was already sizing him up, wondering just how powerful his Voice really was and if she stood a chance in an open confrontation. Though with luck, it would not come to that. After a long pause, he asked her: "You received the summons. How are they?"
"The Greybeards?" Saya blinked, surprised. No reply came from Ulfric. She took it as a yes. "I didn't spend much time with them, though they seemed to be doing well enough for themselves the last time I saw them." She paused and sighed. "We're… not on the best of terms right now."
Ulfric hummed thoughtfully. For a moment, his eyes seemed more distant, less tired. Lost in the memory of a time long since past. "You had a disagreement with Arngeir, then?" He asked, allowing himself a small smile as he stood up from the throne. This was the first time she saw his expression change in any significant way.
Saya's eyes widened. "How'd you know?" Ulfric looked at her momentarily and then took a dagger from his belt. With one hand he reached for her bound wrists, with the other - he cut her free.
"I was their apprentice, once. They chose me when I was just a lad. A great honor," he said. Up close, he seemed even taller than he was on his elevated throne. "I spent almost ten years at High Hrothgar, studying the Way of the Voice under their guidance. Though I rarely use my training."
Saya hummed as she rubbed her wrists to work away the ache. "I'm guessing the Greybeards did not approve of your leave?"
Ulfric chuckled. "No. I doubt Arngeir ever forgave me. Both for leaving, and for the blasphemies I committed in his eyes." He placed both arms behind his back, pacing around the table as he continued talking. "The Way of the Voice teaches that all who use the Voice must do so only for worship of the gods. To commune with the heavens. I have… fallen from that strict teaching, when the Great War began. Another one of my failings, I'm sure he'd say." He turned to his left, where Saya was walking on the table alongside him.
"They're a very pious sort, aren't they," Saya mused, not expecting an answer. Though only in passing, Saya had heard a lot about Ulfric. One of the great generals of the War with the Dominion. The Bear of Markarth. The murderer of King Torygg. She could practically see the disapproval in Arngeir's eyes, if only he knew. "I wonder how long that piety would last outside of that monastery of theirs."
"It's a beautiful philosophy," Ulfric interjected, though not without a knowing smile. "But very… disconnected from the world and its troubles, just like High Hrothgar itself. Outside of the monastery, I was never able to hold to its teachings." He finally stopped, and Saya hopped off the table, standing next to him once more as he placed his hand on the door to the palace. "Your friend came to plead for your release."
Saya flinched, her eyes widening. Serana did? For a moment, her heartbeat quickened in her ears as, for the first time in the past twenty hours or so, she felt truly worried. Ulfric turned and saw her shocked expression, though he said nothing. Seeing his eyes upon herself, Saya tried to regain her composure. "...and?"
Ulfric pulled his hand back from the door. "She brought a witness. That dark elf woman you saved. Both of them were willing to testify on your behalf, but I told them there was no need. The trial was merely for the public eye. I cannot have my men think themselves above the law, even if they are veterans or family." Then, he turned to her. "Though as I'm sure you understand, I also cannot be seen as letting a criminal off scot-free. Especially with so many witnesses."
Another publicity stunt, then. Saya frowned, shifting her weight to one leg. She couldn't truly understand the troubles of a man who was the face of an entire revolution - but frankly, she wasn't particularly interested in understanding to begin with. "Then… what does that mean for me?"
Ulfric stroked his beard in thought. "I can hardly hold the Dragonborn in chains when the world is burning. But now that I know who you are, I am in a sensitive position. I assume you've already heard the sermons spoken outside of my Palace?"
"You mean your pet fanatic?" Saya asked, a note of bitterness sneaking into her voice. Ulfric's expression grew more steeled at her words. She returned the look in kind. "Yeah, I noticed. People like him are the reason I came here." She crossed her arms. "Though, seeing one of them preaching in broad daylight was an unpleasant surprise."
Ulfric nodded. "The first of them came to my city half a year ago, a few days after the Greybeards issued their summons. Back then, I was still busy with recovering from the happenings at Helgen, and from the ambush that led to my capture. Recruiting men. Removing spies." Once again, he started walking as he spoke, not facing her this time. "There was much work to do. By the time I could spare the attention to this matter, it had already grown far beyond my control."
Saya quirked a bemused eyebrow. "How do you mean?"
"I mean that there is no longer a painless way to get rid of them. These… cultists. They know their audience," Ulfric said grimly. His brows furrowed as he spoke, expression morphed into a troubled frown. "Their speeches were not always the same as the one you heard yesterday. They have watched my people and learned what drives them. Now they appeal to them - to my cause - and twist it for their own purposes." He stopped, turning to her. "I am no fool, I know that giving them my support will avail me nothing. But neither can I disavow them without risking rebellion within my ranks."
Saya pinched the bridge of her nose. "Never thought I'd see the day where 'the end of the world is bad' would be a controversial statement." She shook her head and let out a tired, heavy sigh. This was definitely going to be a headache later down the line. "So, what's the plan for now?"
Ulfric sat down on his throne, "I will order the guard to have your belongings returned. Afterwards, you will be free to go - on one condition." He tented his fingers, leaning back into his seat. Once again, he assumed the diplomatic expression of polite indifference. "The city is open to you, but you will be forbidden from staying anywhere outside of the Grey Quarter."
Saya's expression grew a little sour. So much for being sensitive. "And the two morons?"
"Galmar will take care of their punishment. Angrenor once served under him, and Rolff is his brother. I trust he knows the value of discipline," Ulfric said calmly. Saya gave him a skeptical look but made no comment.
Soon after, Ulfric called for Galmar and Jorleif to bring everyone back and resume the trial. With the newfound knowledge of the trial being set up from the start, Saya felt a little uncomfortable listening to the Jarl's speeches. Once her 'punishment' was declared with all the pomp and ceremony that followed, she was formally escorted to the evidence room to retrieve all of her gear. The fact that none of it was missing was a pleasant surprise, though she hadn't the time to count the coin.
Afterwards, she was finally dismissed. The heavy gates of the Palace of Kings creaked open and she took a deep breath of the cold air as heavy snow had just begun to fall. The crunch that followed her every step brought a certain childish joy to her as she looked around. And it was then that she met the eyes of a certain black-haired woman standing just outside the entrance, waiting patiently for gods know how long.
The moment they saw each other, Serana broke into a run and all but leapt at Saya, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a hug so tight it was almost painful. The few seconds they spent standing like that felt like hours, and yet neither of them wanted it to be the one to end them.
"...I was worried," Serana whispered. At that, Saya smiled and hugged her back.
"Thank you."
Oh journal, my journal. You never quite realize how addictive something is until you go a day without it. I knew my hand was itching for something, but somehow it didn't click until I got my hands on the pencil.
So, Serana gave me an earful. Then she started pouting, which I thought was really funny, so she gave me a second earful. Now that both of my ears are full, she's glaring at me. I really don't know how many times I have to apologize for what happened, but the count is going up and there's no end in sight.
Anywho, we went to the docks afterward. I asked around about any passages over to Solstheim, though nobody was particularly helpful. Most of them barely even paid attention to the fact I was there, though some of the Nords deigned to tell me to sod off. Charmers, the lot of them. The only ones with any manners were actually the Argonians, of which there was actually a surprising amount, but even they mostly just told me not to distract them so they could get their work done in time. I get the feeling there's a bit of a hierarchy going on there.
After that, I figured the next best thing I could do was explore the Grey Quarter. I'm not going to dramatize and go all "It looks like something straight out of Morrowind!" but… it does feel a little like home. Maybe it's the writing, maybe it's the lanterns, but it has a certain air to it. And I'm not talking about the actual smell, it smells awful. I'd bet ten gold the drunks from all over the city run here to piss in the alleys.
Honestly, I can't call this place a slum in good conscience. The houses here are the same as anywhere else in the city, at least the poorer districts. That said, it really doesn't have much going for it. After walking around for twenty minutes the only things of note that I found are one pawn shop and one cornerclub. All that you need for life, really.
B'set, I could go for a shein right about now.
"New Gnisis Cornerclub, what can I…" The barkeep's greeting came to a grinding halt the moment his eyes lifted to the entrance. Strangers were rarely good news in the Grey Quarter, but his expression turned especially sour upon seeing one of them was a Nord. The tavern's patrons grew dead silent - not that they were particularly talkative to begin with - as Saya and Serana walked up to the counter and pulled up a seat.
"Under sun and sky, sera." Saya lowered her hood and gave a small bow. The Dunmer behind the counter stared at her stupidly for a brief moment, visibly caught off guard, but quickly returned the gesture.
"We welcome you warmly," he completed the greeting. Serana looked at the two of them curiously. She had heard of such customs, but seeing them in person was quite different to simply reading about them. "What can I get you, sister?"
Saya smiled warmly. "What's the house favorite?" The man nodded respectfully and placed down the tankard on the counter before he turned around and started picking through the shelves. Serana noted that most of the bottles didn't look like anything she'd seen so far. They looked more akin to bug carapaces, perhaps even carved from such. With practiced motion, he uncorked the bottle and poured the tankard half-full with a dark brown liquid. Saya grinned, the familiar scent of flin hitting her nostrils.
"I don't think I've seen you around here before, and I'd remember a face like yours." Saya briefly lowered the tankard, shooting the barkeep an amused glance before returning to her drink. "The name is Ambarys. What brings you to this gods-forsaken corner of the world?"
Saya chuckled as she placed down what was left of her drink. So few words were exchanged, and yet she already had quite a good idea of what kind of person this Ambarys was. "Believe me, I ask myself the same thing." Ambarys allowed himself a small chuckle at the comment. "But if you mean this particular corner, then I'm actually looking for a place to stay. I get the feeling I'll be around here for a while and Kynesgrove is not too short a trip. Any pointers you can give me?"
As the conversation went on, Serana's attention drifted away from the two of them and back to the tavern itself. Once Saya was identified as a fellow Dunmer it seemed that most patrons lost interest in the two newcomers, though a few still tossed the occasional glance their way, hushed whispers exchanged about who they were and where they came from. One figure that stuck out among them was a man in the far corner of the tavern, continuously glancing over in the direction of Saya. It was a short elf with frizzy brown hair, a Bosmer from what she could tell, and he wore an unassuming brown cloak that arguably made him look even more suspicious contrary to the intention.
Immediately upon noticing Serana looking at him, the Bosmer turned away and grabbed the tankard on his table, nervously tapping his foot under the table as he pretended to be lost in his own thoughts. Serana's gaze lingered on him briefly before she leaned over to Saya, who was well into the conversation, and whispered into her ear: "There is someone watching you, back left side of the tavern."
Saya paused, nodding in response before taking a quick glance behind herself. She caught only the briefest glimpse of the individual before he took off from his seat, throwing up his hood and heading for the exit. "Excuse me," she told Ambarys - who appeared to be in rather high spirits after listening to her account of Rolff's thorough beatdown - and got up from her seat, pointing to the drink. "How much do I owe you?"
Ambarys stopped laughing and then waved her off. "Consider it on the house, f'lah." Saya nodded with a grateful smile and quickly downed the rest of the tankard. Then she threw up her own hood and tapped Serana on the shoulder, signaling to her that it was time to go.
They barely set foot outside of the cornerclub when Serana once again caught sight of the cloaked Bosmer. "There!" She called out just as he ducked into an alleyway. The two of them exchanged a quick glance and Saya gestured for Serana to circle around before she herself leapt down the stairs and took off in direct pursuit.
It barely took them a few minutes to corner the man as he walked with panicked steps, trying to make as much distance as possible only to almost directly bump into Serana as she turned the corner. He gasped and quickly turned around, trying to duck back into an alley just as Saya came out of it and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Why hello," Saya said in a poisonously sweet voice, wearing a smile so polite it couldn't be more fake if she tried. The man flinched violently as he noticed that one of her hands was resting on Stormblade's handle. "It's quite rude to stare, you know, not to mention taking off like that. Mind introducing yourself?" A brief moment of tense silence hung in the air as the man glanced back, watching as Serana approached with a look of cautious curiosity in her eye.
Realizing his chance at escaping was pretty much null, the man lowered his hood and spoke in a familiar voice. "I was worried this might happen eventually. Damn that Ambarys, so much for a distraction."
"...Malborn?" Saya stared at the Bosmer, utterly perplexed. Of all the people she expected to be watching her, Malborn was certainly not one of them. She let go of his shoulder and he backed away, shaking himself off. "What are you doing here? Why the hell did you run?"
"Because with all due respect, I was genuinely hoping to never see you ever again," he said through gritted teeth. Serana gave the Dragonborn a questioning look and she winced, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. "Especially after what you pulled at the embassy. Do you have any idea what it was like to go back to the party and come up with excuses for Elenwen why I was absent, only for the entire damn building to start going up in flames?"
"Oh for… haven't we been over this already?" Saya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. At those words, Malborn turned a shade or two redder.
"Over this? Maybe you and Delphine are 'over this', but some of us mortals can't just hero away the consequences!" Malborn spat hatefully, and for a brief moment the guilt vanished from Saya's eyes. The Bosmer quickly piped down from the glare he received.
"Why are you here?" Saya asked, not letting up with the cold look. She was all but drilling into Malborn - a not so gentle reminder that he was still cornered, and that they both knew more than enough about each other to cause trouble.
Malborn cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "What do you think? I'm trying to stay alive, and Windhelm might just be the only place where the Thalmor can't look for me. I was hoping to get past the border, into Morrowind."
"Think you'd be safe there?" Saya asked, crossing her arms.
"As safe as anywhere. The Dunmer and the Thalmor don't care much for each other. It would be a start, at least…" Malborn leaned against a wall, rubbing his forehead. Now that Saya took a closer look at him, he looked much worse for wear than last time. Thalmor servants don't look particularly stellar either way, but he looked as though he was about to drop then and there after their little chase.
"And something happened, I take it?" Saya asked, giving him a knowing look. Three months was more than enough time to get to Morrowind and cross it from one end to the other, if need be.
"I…" Malborn sighed, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. "I chickened out, I guess. I told myself I couldn't be too careful, that I could wait until their trail went cold. And now… I think they know where I am. I'm stuck here." Saya crossed her arms, frowning. From her point of view, he seemed paranoid. Then again, Delphine and Esbern weren't much better when she first found them.
While Saya only stared at him sternly, Serana approached the man from the other side. "Do you know that for certain?" Malborn lifted his eyes to her. She spoke gently, as if trying to soothe him. "Is there any way we can help?"
The bitterness in Malborn's eyes diminished the longer he stared at her. He shook his head. "It's… it's just a hunch I have. I can't risk being seen by them, but…" He turned to Saya. "The Khajiit caravan. Normally they come and go in a matter of days. The guards don't like them here. But this time, they've been here for almost two weeks."
Saya's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And you think that they're Thalmor?"
"Not all of them, no." Malborn shook his head. He spoke quietly, occasionally glancing back and forth to make sure nobody was watching them. "But I've been to the docks. Some of the Argonians there, they… buy from the caravans. They told me there are definitely more people than usual. One of them keeps watching the main gate from the other side of the river - caught my eye right as I was leaving the docks. I'm sure he's Thalmor. He has to be."
Saya exchanged a long look with Serana. She had to admit, the vampire had a more delicate touch for some things. As for the Thalmor… she would've much rather gone through the rest of her days without getting involved with them. That said, there was no chance in the sixteen hells that the Thalmor would leave her be, so she might as well take the leap.
"I'll take care of it," she said after a moment's consideration. Malborn's expression lit up, a glint of hope in his eyes as he looked at her in disbelief. "On one condition: you introduce me to these docks people of yours. I have some questions I need answered."
Malborn hesitated for a second, and then nodded. "Alright. I'll be back at the cornerclub if you need to find me." He pulled the cloak a little tighter around himself and stepping past her. "Just… make it quick, if you would." He turned to her and she nodded.
And with that, he promptly ducked back into the alley, leaving the two of them standing in the snowy streets with more work on their hands.
I'll have to write Fortunata a letter about this. I can imagine she wouldn't be very happy if Malborn happened to get caught, even if there's precious little he could tell about me and her that the Thalmor don't already know. Honestly, I'm not sure if Morrowind is that safe a place for him. The Dominion doesn't have much hold there, sure, but at the same time - who's to say they can't just send someone to take care of him for them? Or hell, pay the Tong?
I'll have to think about it. I don't know if Malborn is much use in a fight, but as a mole… Well, he's managed to fool the Thalmor for quite some time. Though on the other hand, he'd probably tell me to go fuck myself if I suggested he join the Blades outright. He'd need some coaxing.
Either way, the course is clear for the time being. Investigate the Khajiit caravan, and then dispatch the assassin. Or assassins. Then, I guess I'll worry about finding a bed for the night. I could probably give Serana some gold and have her rent a room for herself but that's not gonna fly for me, courtesy of Ulfric.
Actually now that I think about it, are there any inns in the Grey Quarter to begin with?
"Welcome, five-claw, welcome!" Ri'saad's laugh greeted the pair as they walked into the camp. A number of large tents was scattered about, though none bigger than the caravan leader's. He was an older Khajiit, with long locks of grey hair that matched his naturally white fur and created the impression of an experienced trader who'd seen much of the world in his time. "Take a look at our goods. If this one cannot serve you, he is sure one of the other traders can."
Serana's eyes wandered with childlike wonder. Dozens upon dozens of trinkets littered their surroundings: intricate plaids that looked like fine tapestries taken straight off their walls, baubles of gold and platinum depicting outlandish and demonic figures that captivated the eye, bowls and bags and jars filled with powders and herbs of the most intoxicating scents… It was like crossing into a whole different world. A little slice of a faraway land brought here, to the interior of a fur tent.
The vampire's excitement did not escape Saya's eye and she smiled, glad to see her friend was enjoying herself. "Anything here catch your eye?" She asked, shaking Serana out of her thoughts. The vampire sputtered incoherently like a child caught red-handed and Saya chuckled, giving her a light pat on the shoulder. "You can tell me if you like something, just don't forget what I told you earlier. Alright?"
Serana blinked. The conversation they had before leaving the city flashed in her mind and she collected herself, beginning to look around with a bit more purpose in her gaze. The wide variety of merchandise within the camp was rivaled only by the variety of the merchants themselves. Each one greeted her as she browsed their wares, asking curious surface-level questions and watching for their reactions - and of course, careful not to breach the topic of price. All of them wore the same polite smile of a vendor that could smell the gold in their customer's pocket.
All of them but one.
He was a taller fellow, with ruddy brown fur and piercing orange eyes that gave him a slightly menacing appearance. Pointed ears were topped off with off-black tufts, and on his face was a pair of neatly groomed muttonchops of that same not-quite-brown color. His merchandise was very scarce compared to the other merchants - trinkets of painted ivory and gem-encrusted silver, a few items of clothing of mismatched styles and origins. One could reasonably assume he simply purchased the things from someone else and was now reselling them, but even the prospect of profit didn't seem to interest him much. All he did was follow Serana with a cold gaze as she inspected his wares, answering her questions in a stilted manner.
"Hey!" Saya suddenly called out, beckoning the vampire and startling the merchant. "It's time for us to go, did you find anything for Malborn or what?" She asked, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. The Khajiit's pupils immediately narrowed upon hearing that name. He kept watching the pair closely for the remainder of their time at camp. Once they left, he counted.
Five minutes after they left, the Khajiit rose from his spot and donned his winter cloak. Even a passing gaze would be enough to tell that this was his first foray into Skyrim's harsh winter, and he was definitely not dressed for the weather. Without a word, he left the camp under the silent, suspicious gaze of the other traders. Traitors and sugar addicts, he thought. Fools. They knew what he was, of course, yet did nothing to push him away. An unspoken agreement between the two sides not to interfere with one another's business, or else there would be trouble.
They were a little ways away from the city when he finally caught up. Last he saw them, they were about to cross a bridge. Perfect place for an ambush, and to dump the corpses. The Khajiit unsheathed his blade and approached with a soft, almost silent step…
Unfortunately, 'almost' silent is not enough to fool a vampire. He hadn't the time to even flinch as Serana grabbed him by the wrist and looked him straight in the eye, her own pupils flashing a deep, alluring crimson. The man went slack, releasing the blade in his hand and dropping it to the ground. Once she was sure he was charmed, Serana stepped back. "Done," she said as she turned to Saya, who flashed a knowing smile.
"Great work, sunshine. I can ask him stuff now, right?" She asked as she stepped in front of the glassy-eyed Khajiit. Serana nodded affirmatively and Saya hummed in thought. So many questions, so little time. "Let's start simple. Identify yourself."
Upon hearing the command, he moved to look at Saya. His face was completely devoid of emotion and he spoke in a neutral, even tone. "I am J'datharr. I was sent by the Thalmor to find and kill a traitor who calls himself Malborn."
Saya nodded to herself. This they knew. "Are you an agent? Who sent you?"
He nodded. "I have been a member of the Thalmor for the last three years. I was sent by First Emissary Elenwen to infiltrate a Khajiit and use them as a cover while I searched for the traitor. I was paid in advance and provided with an inventory to sell during my travels so as to avoid suspicion." Serana hummed in understanding - that certainly explained his sour expression and the scarcity of wares.
"Is there any proof to what you are saying?" Saya finally asked. She figured that if they were to kill a Thalmor assassin for Malborn, they may as well bring back something to show for it. Without a word, J'datharr procured a note. Saya flapped it open and scanned it - signed by 'E', no formal seals. Oh well. "That'll do," she said, pocketing the note. "Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me?" Saya gestured towards the river and Serana gave the Khajiit a commanding glance. Without any protest, the thrall followed Saya with almost mechanical footsteps.
Days later, the Windhelm guard on patrol would discover the frozen corpse of a Khajiit wash up near the bridge, his throat slit with his own dagger.
Now that's what I call a job well done. Nice and clean, and we got to pocket his stuff! It's not much, but it could definitely fetch a decent price somewhere - or, if all else fails, it'd make for a decent gift. Haven't been to Riverwood in a while.
We came back straight to the cornerclub afterwards. Malborn was overjoyed with the news, so I took the opportunity to mention Fortunata and our setup in a quiet corner of the tavern. He seemed apprehensive to say the least, but after a bit of convincing he agreed to at least think about it. I also gave him some of J'datharr's stuff to stimulate his thinking a little bit. I decided to celebrate and bought everyone a round of drinks. Started chatting some folks up, getting to know the locals. Apparently the story with me and Rolff started spreading a bit, for better or worse.
Then as the sun began to set, I suddenly realized that I still have no place to stay. And what's more - the Grey Quarter does not, in fact, have any inns. Ulfric, you motherfucker. Publicity, my ass. I gave Serana some money so she could look for a place to stay, at least until tomorrow. Now I just have to figure out what floor I'm gonna sleep on tonight.
Serana stood before the door of Candlehearth Hall with bated breath. Yesterday's events were still fresh in her mind. The crowd, the confrontation, the sleepless night she spent thinking, searching, wondering if she was alright. She remembered the sour faces that greeted her and the cold eyes that drilled her back as she passed by. Her breath shook and she did not know why. Anxiety? She shook her head. She was merely a patron, looking for a place to stay the night. With a deep breath to steel the nerves, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Not a minute later, she was kicked out.
Idiot. Outsider. Elf-lover. Traitor. A colorful arrangement of words, all shouted in dissonance the moment she was recognized and called out by one of the drunken patrons. Serana was naive to assume it was the good kind of attention. If she hadn't left herself, she would've likely been pushed out. Now she stood in the cold street, wide-eyed and confused. Was it really so outlandish to defend someone? Was it really so wrong to condemn the cruelty?
Her lips tightened. Coin purse in hand, she walked away. That couldn't be it. Windhelm was a large, ancient city. It can't have had only one inn. It couldn't be that everyone thought the same way. With each step, her conviction grew stronger. Perhaps it was merely a fluke. Or perhaps Rolff was simply a regular at that particular inn. As she knocked on the door of the next inn, a flicker of hope was beginning to swell in her chest.
That hope was crushed by the third inn to turn her away. By the time she reached the fifth and last one, it had turned to desperation. The innkeeper only spared her enough of a glance to recognize her and grumbled something about having no free rooms. Serana didn't have the energy to feel disappointed anymore. She quietly excused herself and shut the door.
Outside, it was snowing. The sun had disappeared well over an hour ago, yet no stars shone through the thick clouds. Serana had given up pretending to be cold for appearances' sake, too distracted by the confusion swirling that flooded her thoughts now. Or perhaps 'confusion' wasn't quite the right word. Bitterness? Outrage? Sadness? She would have all night to reflect on it.
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and looked at the purse in her hand. This is not mine, she thought, as if pushing through a haze. Saya gave this to me, so I would have somewhere to stay. Her grip grew tighter around the purse and she turned her gaze to the street before her. Now that she thought about it, weren't there rumors about one of the houses being abandoned? Would any of the guards notice if she took refuge there?
What if she brought Saya there, too?
She was right. Serana walked- no, ran through the streets to the Grey Quarter, a gleeful grin hidden beneath her woolen scarf. She was right. She was right! It took a bit of looking, but she found the estate the others had been talking about. It was locked of course, and it took a bit of effort to climb to the second story window, but inside? It was completely and utterly empty. It was perfect.
Serana could barely contain her joy. In her mind, she was already constructing her explanation to Saya, how she would deliver the news. She would probably have to keep quiet about the inns, or she would probably get mad on Serana's behalf. She didn't want that. Would offering her the purse first be the way to go, then? Would Saya want an explanation? Those were the thoughts circling in Serana's mind when she pushed open the door to New Gnisis Cornerclub and her eyes scanned the entire place for her friend.
Her smile froze on her face when she saw her. Saya was sitting at the bar. Next to her, a Dunmer woman. Unfamiliar. Unknown. Long silver hair, eyes of piercing red, ashen skin with the faintest tint of blue. She was laughing. "I'm not sure I believe you. Maybe if I could actually try it for myself…"
Saya hummed. Quiet. Thoughtful. Her eyes half-closed, but not tired. Watching. "I only made it once or twice, honestly. Not quite to my taste." She pulled her tankard close. A single sip. The rest was feigned, an open invitation for a reply.
"Oh?" Head tilted curiously. A subtle twitch of the right ear. Leaning forward. "Not one for fine dining, are we?"
"Not quite my cup of tea, no." She chuckled, eyes narrowing. Observing. Calcula- no. Not calculating, but anticipating something. Watching for a reaction. "I'd like to think of breakfast food as my specialty, actually. Play your cards right, and you might even find out…"
Serana blinked. Her thoughts, so rapid she could barely keep track of them herself, suddenly came to a grinding halt. The woman's giggle reverberated in her ears in a way that made her- her everything suddenly seize up. She watched, still and stupid, as they continued talking. The silver-haired woman had the top of her shirt untied. All the while, a dark feeling was starting to bubble inside of her.
That was when Saya lifted her eyes and saw her standing at the entrance. In that instant, both of their smiles vanished and they stared at each other for a single moment that seemed to stretch for eternity.
With a blank expression and almost practiced motion, Serana closed the door and left.
She sat alone on the cold wooden floor of the Aretino estate, hugging her own knees and face hidden from everyone and everything. Alone with thoughts that far outnumbered her. Words and emotions and images burned into her mind with an ache she couldn't describe. It hurt. It hurt in a way she could not understand, could not explain. It made her mad.
She was mad, but not at her. She was mad at herself. Mad at her own naivety, for thinking Saya was not making plans of her own. Mad at her foolishness, for not realizing immediately what was going on. She could've left. She should've left. She was mad at herself for hurting and not knowing why, for wanting to blame Saya for it, for not being able to just close her eyes and escape into unconsciousness without seeing the shock in her features and that same sharp, unexplainable ache in her own red eyes, staring back at her.
She heard footsteps downstairs. She did not move. They were soft and quiet. Wary, as though whoever was there knew she was inside and didn't want to spook her. Serana hugged her knees a little tighter when she thought of the possibility. If it was a stranger, she did not want to face them right now. If it wasn't a stranger, she definitely did not want to face them right now.
The person stopped for a moment upon reaching the top of the stairs. Even in the dark, the vampire wasn't too hard to see. She heard the footsteps grow closer before they sat down next to her and Serana felt a familiar scent fill her nostrils.
"Hey," Saya said. No response. Serana felt a familiar ache welling behind her eyes and she was determined to not let it spill over. After a long pause, Saya continued: "I see your luck was even worse than mine, huh?" She laughed softly. It wasn't funny. Or perhaps it would've been were it not for the situation. Soon, her smile faded and she spoke again, much quieter now: "...I'm sorry."
"Who was she?" Serana asked. She wasn't sure why. She didn't really want to know. But something inside her wanted really badly to find out.
Saya shrugged. "I don't know. A local girl, I think." Serana lifted her eyes at that, looking at Saya in confusion. You 'think'? "I was chatting up the folks around the cornerclub for a while and she stuck around while everyone else left. She never told me her name, though."
Serana let the information sit for a moment. "So you… did not know each other," she mumbled. All of a sudden, the ache seemed to pause, almost. It was not yet gone, but subsided. Delayed. "And… what happened between you two?" She asked cautiously, watching the Dragonborn's expression.
"Between us? You say that like you were expecting some kind of grand affair," Saya chuckled at her own joke. Then she saw the vampire's tense expression and her smile became softer, more gentle. "Nothing happened, Serana. It was just a bit of flirting. Nothing more."
Serana pursed her lips. "Flirting…" She tasted the word in her mouth and wrinkled her nose. She didn't like the thought of Saya flirting with someone, joke or otherwise. She squeezed the fabric of her cloak in her hands, thinking. "And… would you have gone farther than that?" She asked quietly.
Saya hummed in thought. "Probably. If I were alone." Then she turned to Serana, nudging the vampire lightly until she looked up at her. "But I have you here with me, don't I?"
Serana's eyes fluttered wide open at her words. Of all the replies she could've anticipated, this was not one of them. She turned away sharply, once again hiding her face in the fabric of her scarf. Once again she felt her chest tighten, but this time it was not… unpleasant. She felt nervous. She was sure that if she spoke, her voice would tremble. Why?
In the meantime, Saya leaned back on the wall and sighed. She couldn't really deny that the idea was very tempting. The girl from the cornerclub was nice and seemed interested, and Saya definitely wouldn't mind some kind of release every once in a while. Sex and a warm meal in the morning didn't seem like all too big a trade for a night not spent in the biting cold of Skyrim winter. Any other time, she really would've taken it. But the moment she saw Serana's face, it was like something cracked inside of her.
She just couldn't.
"She was… pretty. I suppose." Saya blinked and turned to her side. Serana was still staring dead ahead, refusing to meet Saya's gaze. An awkward silence filled the space between them, Saya not knowing what to say and Serana unsure why she said anything at all. The vampire had to suppress the urge to scream when Saya suddenly leaned in and looked at her face closely.
"Are you… jealous?" She asked. Serana did not respond. The two of them stared at each other wordlessly, each second making the silence that much more awkward until Serana eventually broke eye contact, turning away. Another second passed before Saya sat back down. One could practically see the gears turning in her head through her eyes. "...huh."
The two of them continued sitting next to each other, neither of them willing to be the first to speak up. Serana felt like she wanted to curl up and disappear right about now. Saya suddenly felt acutely aware of how cold it really was inside the house. Or perhaps it was the inside of her armor that was getting hot? Thoughts swirled about in their minds like hurricanes, a cacophonic mess of jumbled words and unanswered questions. It felt like an eternity passed until they gathered the courage to speak up, and then:
"I-"
"I'm-"
Pause. An exchanged look. Saya's cheeks grew just a little bit hotter. "Y-You first," she stammered out. Serana swallowed and nodded shakily, trying to find the words that were being so difficult right then.
"It's… I wanted to apologize," she said. Her tone was subdued and quiet. Each word carried a distinct aftertaste of guilt. "My behavior was… unworthy. I do not know what came over me. You must think me quite foolish for being…" She stammered, rubbing the back of her head awkwardly. "...j-jealous, over something so trivial as this. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Saya said immediately and Serana turned to her, surprised. She was staring directly at the vampire with an intense look, one that made her swallow nervously. "I'm actually…" She took a deep breath, like she was about to go on a rant - when their eyes met by accident. The words got stuck in Saya's throat and she turned away. Even in the dark, Serana could've sworn her face grew a bit redder. "I'm… really glad, actually," she mumbled after a little while. "It makes me happy. Knowing you feel that way."
"...oh," Serana said simply. She didn't know what to make of that response. Once again, that confusing warmth in her chest sparked up once again and Serana put a hand on her scarf. Her mind was a mess. She couldn't even begin to imagine what was happening in Saya's head, and perhaps that was for the better.
"I'm… glad you're here, sunshine," Saya said eventually. Serana did not respond. Her hands tightened around the scarf's fabric. Then suddenly, she felt something heavy on her shoulder. She looked to her side and saw the familiar head of red hair resting against her shoulder. "I know I'm not very good at showing it, but… Thank you."
Thank you. The words echoed in Serana's head like ripples through a pond. She did not speak. There were no words in her mind or in any language known and unknown to her that could properly express what she was feeling. The warmth in her chest felt almost suffocating. And yet… she didn't really want it to disappear.
She looked down. Saya was still leaning on her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, long dark red eyelashes glistening in the cold moonlight, pale like the snow that covered the city. Her heartbeat slowed and her mouth was slightly open, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Serana brushed away a strand of hair that fell on Saya's face, but she didn't even react.
Serana smiled and closed her eyes. Perhaps she didn't have to say anything at all.