The Fall of Lord Kelvyn
By Commentaholic
A/N: Well, my last chapter was probably my most successful one. I got a new reader, if he's still reading it like he said he would; and I have reached over 1000 hits on this story! Most of you loyal readers got a message saying as much, thanking you for your input and helping me get this far.
I have rewritten the first chapter of this story (the prologue) for all of you current readers who wish to see an improved intro.
When we last left our hero, Rhesus, he was barreling through the air from the window of a burning building. In his arms rests our future favorite bandit lord and it's obvious that it's her because of her red hair and green eyes.
The topic of her hair and eyes has been brought up by the new reader, as well as one old reader. The color velvet is, true, not a color, but whenever I was creating the character, I imagined velvet to only be the color red, not remembering "black velvet" or "purple velvet". I only remembered the color of velvet being red. As for her eyes, I have addressed this before: yes, she is unique and not exactly the standard Dunmer. Her eyes are different because most OC Dunmers are different than the cookie-cutter Dunmer race. From Leonette's bright-orange-haired hero, Lavinia; and many others having (but not limited to) orange eyes, blue eyes, yellow hair, blue hair, etc. Most OC Dunmers have to have a unique characteristic to make them special.
Anyway, enough about my reasons; on with the story.
Chapter 9, Part 5: Through the Fire and the Flames
The house was engulfed in raging fire; timbers creaked as the flickering flames ate away at the support beams. The Redguard had already been in there for 3 minutes by Barthel's reckoning. He barely had the strength to hold the crazed Dunmer back from charging into the burning building after the tall warrior.
Suddenly he heard the sound of shattering glass and looked up. A soot-blackened form had hurled itself through the window, holding a smaller figure close to its chest. Fire glinted off the shards of glass as they coalesced into a halo of sharp edges encircling the figure. The window frame that the man, who could only be Rhesus, had recently vacated suddenly exploded outwards in a gush of fire. The flames engulfed the falling Redguard, and then dissipated as quickly as they had appeared. Wisps of smoke and fire curled around Rhesus as he fell. Then he was gone, lost among the tree branches.
Barthel cursed the tree that obscured his vision, and ran around to the other side, looking up to try to find the man among the dark branches. "Are you there? Are you alright?" he called up into the tree. He called some neighbors over to try to mount a rescue effort into the tree.
Rhesus, despite the agony that plagued him, croaked a response over his shoulder towards the foot of the tree. "Yes," he rasped out, "we're alright. Hurry, though, I'm not sure how long I can keep us up here."
Rhesus shifted his weight off of his wounded leg, easing the pressure off of the shard of glass that had embedded itself in his thigh. He took a quick look towards the girl, and she seemed alright. She looked at him in a frightened way, her emerald eyes sparkling with tears. He brushed aside a lock of scarlet hair that had swept in front of her face, "It's okay, they'll be here soon, you'll be with your dad in no time," he said soothingly.
A few minutes later, Barthel's head popped up next to Rhesus's. Rhesus handed the girl gently to him, and Barthel eased down the ladder with her in his arms. A few moments later, Rhesus heard the sounds of a joyous reunion of the girl with her father. Barthel came up next to Rhesus again, saying, "Your turn."
It took some doing, but Barthel managed to get Rhesus to the ground without aggravating the warrior's wounded leg too much. Once safely down, Barthel eased the long shard of glass out of Rhesus's thigh and started casting a spell of healing upon the bloody gash. Cool relief replaced the throb of pain as the wound sealed itself under the Breton's glowing palm.
As soon as he could stand, Rhesus got up and began gathering his equipment, which had been removed during the healing process. Barthel protested, saying that Rhesus should take some time to recover, and that there was a camp nearby that they could occupy until they could handle the goblin problem. Rhesus declined the offer. As Rhesus picked up his sword belt, he felt something grab him about the legs, and looked down to see the little Dunmer girl embracing his legs in an attempt to keep him from leaving.
Rhesus sighed, this was the hardest part of living the way he did. He reached down and peeled her arms from his legs, then walked quickly towards his horse, trying not to look back. He couldn't afford to get settled, not as long as his family was still waiting for him; not as long as Rhano was waiting.
After retrieving his claymore from where it lay among the dead goblins, he mounted his horse, receiving a twinge of pain in his still sore leg as he settled into the saddle. He looked at the burning buildings. The fires had started to fade as the rain finally started having an effect on the fires that had burned their way through their fuel. He would send some help from Bravil, his next stop. The people there, he was sure, would help this beleaguered settlement.
He turned his horse towards the trail, then heard a faint "huff" and felt a weight clamber on behind him. He turned around, already knowing what he would find. The Dunmer girl had climbed onto his horse, almost as if she wanted to go with him. Rhesus looked around for her father, who was nowhere to be seen, which was weird considering how close she'd come to death. Rhesus was surprised that the father had let her out of his sight, much less let her run off to try to go with a warrior.
Rhesus looked at her again, and she looked right back at him, a determined look in her large green eyes. Rhesus knew the feeling that she was experiencing. He himself had chased after an Imperial Legion Soldier after the man had saved Rhesus, who had been running an errand at the time. The soldier had come in, sword slashing at the bandits assaulting Rhesus. When it was all over, Rhesus had almost begged the soldier to teach him, but the soldier refused, saying that Rhesus was still too young to know bloodshed.
Now Rhesus was faced with a similar situation. He couldn't care for a girl of her age while on the road, especially not with his dangerous lifestyle. But then again, he knew that look, knew what was going on in her mind. He knew that she desired to be just like him: a warrior. He dismounted his horse, his leg giving another pang of discomfort, and pulling her off his saddle and setting her down before him. He knelt and looked her in those deep, emerald eyes.
"Listen, I know how you feel, but you're too young and have no experience. You'd be killed, and I couldn't live with that." She looked down, sorrow filling her features.
"But I want to stop the bad people," came a tiny voice from the girl. It was surprisingly clear and mature, which surprised Rhesus. This was a girl who was more mature then she appeared, and she knew what she wanted.
It broke Rhesus's heart to have to do this, but he knew it had to be done. Then he had an idea. He walked her back to the settlement and found her father.
The Dunmer was a lot calmer now that his daughter wasn't in mortal danger, and thanked Rhesus in halting Cyrodiilic Standard.
Rhesus said, "Your daughter craves adventure. She even tried to follow me, but I can't care for anyone with no experience. But I have a suggestion for you."
Rhesus pulled his claymore off his back and presented it to the Dunmer, "Here, take it. Defend your family and teach her how to defend herself. Maybe one day we may cross paths again, but until then, train her well. And when the time comes, you must let her go. Such is the way of the warrior."
The girl gazed up at the gleaming blade with awe. While she was distracted, Rhesus made his escape. He rode away from the settlement, heading south towards the bridge that could take him west towards Bravil.
The storm broke, and sun streamed through the clouds. The future looked bright, if only for the moment.
A/N: I want to finish this whole back-story up in one go, so here's one of the rare "Velvet-Only" scenes, showing what happened a few years later. In the meantime, Rhesus returned to his home when he said he would, Velvet's father taught her the way of the sword as per her wishes, and she grew up fighting with daggers and shortswords (Why not the claymore you ask? You'll see). She may have forgotten Rhesus himself, but she would never forget the man who had saved her life. (She does eventually, though.) I bet most of you are also wondering who she possibly could have murdered. Don't worry; I'll get around to it eventually. Note: I altered the timeline of this flashback by 5 years, making Velvet roughly 14 when this next part happens, 9 when Rhesus saved her, and I'd guess 15 when Lucien finds her.
A few miles south of New Cropsford
Velvet sat on a stump on a hill overlooking Niben Bay, alone with her thoughts. It had been 5 years since the town had been decimated by fire and the goblin war.
5 years since he'd left.
Velvet, having been only 9 at the time, couldn't remember the Redguard's face. Too many traumatizing things had occurred that night that took precedence in her memories, but she couldn't forget what he'd given her. The warrior had given her a purpose, a goal, a lifestyle. Eventually, when she was ready, she would take the steel claymore from the mantle above the fireplace and enter into the world as a warrior.
Velvet's hair swirled around her head as a sudden gust of wind blew across the hilltop. She looked up to see the sunset shining glorious colors upon Niben Bay's rippling surface. It was a breathtaking sight.
Then something moved in the corner of Velvet's eye, and her hands darted to the elven shortsword that her father had given her for her birthday two years previous. She always kept it sharp and clean, befitting of a warrior.
Velvet's emerald eyes followed the huddled figure as it emerged from the line of trees at the bottom of the hill, swayed a bit, and then toppled to the ground. Velvet leapt from her seat and darted down the hill, stopping a few yards shy of the fallen figure. Most of the figure was covered in torn clothing that had pieces of vegetation caught on the cloth. Velvet spied long brown hair flowing from under the tattered garments.
"Are you alright?" Velvet called to the bundle of clothes.
No response, the figure didn't move.
Velvet lowered her blade, but didn't put it away. She edged closer to the huddled mass. Velvet knelt down next to it and turned it over. It was a Breton woman; Velvet guessed that she was about 27 at first glance. At least, that was until Velvet saw the fangs.
Velvet leapt backwards as ruby-colored eyes peeked out from barely open eyelids.
"Please…" the woman's voice croaked out, "kill…me…"
Velvet was shaken by this. "Why do you want to die?" she asked.
"I…can't live like this…anymore…" the woman wheezed, "I…want to…end it."
"I won't do it."
"What?" the vampire said painfully.
"I told you, I won't do it!" Velvet crossed her arms pointedly, sheathing her blade, "Nobody should want to die because of something as silly as vampirism. You've been given immortality! Use it to do something worthwhile! As long as nobody finds out, and you keep it a secret; you can do anything!"
"What…do you…propose?" the Breton wheezed, "I'm dead anyway, I just… wanted it to be quick… and painless."
"Well, I'm certainly not letting you die." Velvet said as she grabbed a bowl from her pack and pulled up her sleeve.
"What are…you doing?" the vampire gasped out.
"What do you think I'm doing? Do you see any animals around?" Velvet gestured at her surroundings incredulously.
"Aren't…you afraid…?" asked the Breton.
"Warriors fear nothing," Velvet said as she used her blade to cut her arm, suspending the wound over the bowl. The dish began filling up with the sanguine fluid, and Velvet began to get pale. Once there was enough in the bowl, she bound the wound quickly with her linen sash, and then offered the bowl to the Breton vampire.
"Why…? You...Don't even…know me!" the vampire said, unbelieving, taking the bowl.
"What's your name?" Velvet asked weakly.
"Helen."
"I'm Velvet; it's an honor to… meet you." Velvet said as she slumped backwards onto the hill's soft grass.
"The honor is all mine," said Helen, drinking.
To Velvet, the following time went by in a blur of confusion. She remembered saying where her home was, and then strong arms lifted her from the grass. She remembered the scenery flying by at inhuman speeds. Then everything went dark, but she heard her father's panicked voice calling to her.
Velvet opened her eyes to see her father leaning over her, a worried look on his usually passive features.
"Father?" Velvet's voice came out in a croak.
"Oh, praise Vivec, you're awake!" her father said happily, "I thought you would never wake up!"
"What happened?" Velvet asked.
"You tell me! I was sitting in my study reading when I heard a knock at the door. When I answered it, you were lying on the doorstep unconscious."
"Well… wait; nobody besides me was there when you opened the door?" Velvet asked.
"No."
"I can't remember…" Velvet said, nodding off to sleep again.
Velvet awoke that night to the sound of her window slamming shut. She sat up in bed, swayed dizzily for a moment, then looked around. Two red eyes gleamed from the dark side of the room.
"Helen?"
"Indeed, I wanted to make sure you were well before I left." Helen said from the shadows. She was wearing new robes of a dark blue color. She blended perfectly into the dark corner except for the red sash she was wearing.
"Why did you leave me?" Velvet asked.
"I did not think that your father would react well to a vampire holding his bleeding daughter upon his doorstep." Helen said wryly.
"You're probably right," Velvet said, nodding in agreement. Dunmer were born with a natural distrust of any sort of vampire. Centuries of being attacked by Ash Vampires definitely left a racial prejudice. Personally, Velvet had never really understood why the Dunmer had so many biases. Most of them were based on events that had happened centuries before, and were no longer relevant. "So, what are you going to do now?"
"I figured I'd hang around a bit," Helen began, holding up her hand when Velvet started protesting. "I owe you my life. You gave me a new view of the world, a reason to live. No prejudiced father could keep me away, even if he wanted to."
Velvet was still a bit worried. Her father had been training with the claymore since the Redguard gave it to him, and he was getting rather good with it. She wasn't sure if even a vampire could fight him.
Helen went to the window and opened it. She looked at Velvet, "I'll be around if you ever need me," she said as she climbed out the window. Helen gave a small wave of farewell through the window before she closed it and disappeared into the night.
2 months later
Velvet's father was drunk again.
Velvet sighed, this happened every year on the anniversary of her mother's death. He drank himself into a stupor in front of the fireplace, falling asleep in the large chair there. Velvet had learned about three years earlier to avoid him when he was like this.
Velvet had returned from a late night excursion to the nearby caves. She went there occasionally to fight the rats and mudcrabs that had flourished there ever since the goblin clans' deaths. She had dispatched the troublesome creatures easily, her blade cutting them to bits. When she returned home, she found her father in his customary chair, nursing a jug of ale.
"Where have you –hic– been, Velvet?" her father's voice rumbled from his lowered head.
"I was out training, father. I told you that before I left." Velvet said.
"Yeah… BUT YOU'RE LATE!" her father slurred loudly, "You need…to be taught a lesson." He rose from his chair and staggered over to Velvet, who stepped backward a step in fear. He smacked her face with enough force to throw her to the ground.
Velvet looked up, tears in her eyes, a bruise forming on her cheek. Never before had her father acted like this, he'd never hit her before. Her father staggered back to his chair and collapsed into it with a huff of breath.
Tonight, Velvet made sure to avoid her father. She sat on her bed reading "A Warp in the West", a combat training manual. Velvet heard a rap on the windowpane. It was Helen.
Velvet opened the window, and Helen clambered inside. Helen and Velvet had become great friends since they had met two months prior. Wherever Velvet went adventuring, Helen followed. They talked for hours, Helen spoke about her many years wandering, and Velvet spoke about her recurring dreams about the brave man who had saved her. Helen said that the man's description rang a bell, as if she had heard of someone like that, but couldn't put her finger on it.
A week ago, Helen had simply not shown up to their usual meeting spot. Velvet had thought that Helen had moved on for now, but would probably be back to visit her friend.
"Where have you been, Helen?" Velvet asked.
"I've been around. I went to the Imperial City for a bit to watch the Arena to find a few pointers for your training." Helen answered.
Helen and Velvet heard a clatter from the other room and went silent.
"What's up with your father? I can sense him, but his mind seems a bit blurred." Helen asked.
Velvet sighed. "He's drunk again, so keep it down. I don't know what he'd do if he came in here and found a vampire. Even with nothing to anger him, he's violent to say the least."
"How do you tolerate it?" Helen inquired.
"Well," Velvet began, "It is only once a year, and she was his wife, so he's right to mourn her passing. Even though it's been five years, I still can't imagine forgetting someone I loved."
A fist pounded loudly on the door. "Velvet!" her father slurred, "What's going on? I hear voices…WHO'S THERE WITH YOU?"
"Damn, Helen, you have to go. Now!" Velvet reached for the window as her father barged down the door.
Helen was halfway out the window when Velvet's father grabbed her ankle and pulled her back inside.
"Now, what do we have here?" Velvet's father leered at Helen. The Breton could smell alcohol heavily on his breath. She tried to wriggle free as his blurry eyes appraised her red ones. He suddenly grabbed her chin and wrenched it downward, exposing Helen's fangs.
"A VAMPIRE? YOU DARE TO ASSOCIATE WITH THESE BEASTS?" he yelled.
"Father! Let her go!" Velvet cried, pulling at his arms. He swung one of his arms back at Velvet, knocking her across the room. Velvet's head struck the wall and she slumped to the ground with a dazed look on her face.
"I'll show you what we do with vampires!" her father said, dragging Helen into the other room. Velvet's confused mind could see Helen's panicked face, which cleared her confusion instantly. Velvet climbed back to her feet, pursuing her father.
He had Helen pinned to the table, and was reaching for the large butcher knife in the kitchen cabinet. He held it up into the air, almost as if savoring the moment before plunging it downward into Helen's heart.
Velvet's eyes darted across the room, but could find nothing. She threw her thin form at her father, throwing him off balance, staggering him backwards toward the fireplace. He hit the stonework with a thud, knocking the claymore from its stand. It clattered to the ground with a resounding clang.
"You ungrateful wench," her father muttered, "How dare you attack me…" He strode towards Velvet and seized her by the neck, throwing her backwards towards the wall. She struck the stone frame of the fireplace and slipped to the ground again. As he stomped towards her, Velvet grasped around on the ground for something to fend him off with, preferably one of the fire pokers. Velvet's hands closed on a familiar shape, and she raised the object in front of her, closing her eyes in fear.
There was a grunt of pain, a few shuffled steps as Velvet's improvised weapon was wrenched from her hand, and then a thud as her father hit the ground. Velvet opened her eyes to see the gleaming steel claymore protruding from her father's chest. In his alcohol-clouded mind, he hadn't had enough sense to avoid the blade.
"Oh gods…what have I done?" Velvet cried out, tears flowing freely as she ran to her father's side.
His breaths came in shallow, gurgling gasps. He felt around for something, and Velvet seized his hand and held it close. His other hand sought out her face, caressing it weakly. "Alvela?" he breathed. Velvet's eyes welled up with even more tears, if that was possible. He thought that Velvet was his dead wife, her mother.
His hands went limp, and the one feeling her cheek fell to his side with a small thud. Velvet grasped the one in her hands closer, sobbing apologies into it.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Helen.
"Velvet, we have to go. People will have heard the noise, and I doubt that they will see this as a simple accident," she said.
Velvet sniffed and nodded, she felt cold… Helen grabbed a sack and filled it with supplies. When she had gathered enough provisions to last them for a while, she turned back to Velvet, who hadn't moved. The only difference was that she had pulled the claymore from her father's corpse, and was clasping it close to her as if it would vanish.
Helen guided the sorrow-stricken Velvet out the door and to the tree line. Velvet didn't remember reaching the camp a few miles away.
The next day, Helen asked Velvet if she knew of anywhere they might be able to go. Velvet jerked from her near-comatose state as she heard her friend's voice.
"There is one place… It's an abandoned farm about twenty miles northeast of Kvatch. I discovered it when I went there to watch the Kvatch Arena. The owner went missing a few years ago, and people think it's haunted, so it should be safe." Velvet answered.
"Well, then, let's not tarry." Helen said, rising to her feet and shouldering their supplies.
Velvet rose, grabbing only the steel claymore.
Together, the pair set out westward towards their destination, away from their previous lives.
A/N: And so it comes full circle. There's the story of the claymore, of Velvet and Helen, and of Velvet's first murder. Although, technically her father attacked her, making it self-defense… Wait! He didn't know what he was doing because he was drunk! As we know "Her killing had been observed by forces unknown…" Soon, the air will grow chill and a shadow will approach.
I decided to use Shetcombe farm simply because it's abandoned and it works out.