Hey, guys! Don't know Skyrim all that well? Don't worry! We will be explaining words and phrases as we go. If there is a term that is unfamiliar to you, and there is a (*) by it, then it has a definition at the bottom! Other than that, thanks for checking our story out, and enjoy!


Chapter Two

Feed

This was hands-down the strangest experience of Alfred's life. Being the Dragonborn, he's been through unimaginable scenario after unimaginable scenario, all of them dangerous, as that is the way of Skyrim. However this time he had no idea what to expect. It's not like he was fighting a dragon, Draugr*, Dragon Priest*, or anything he was used to. He was unknowledgeable, and felt vulnerable.

Alfred hated traveling at night, due to the monstrous wolves, Sabre cats*, bears, bandits, and anything else that lurks at night. Now he's one of the things that lurk in the night. His senses picked up, so much so that he could hear Arthur and Francis' heartbeats. Arthur's was slightly faster. Different scents flooded his nose, all of them mixing together, but there was one specific scent he could easily depict: blood. It didn't have the same metallic scent, now it smelled sweet. He could feel his mouth water a little as he glanced at Francis and Arthur, the sources of the smell. He looked away, picking up speed.

"Is there any way we can move faster?" Alfred asked impatiently, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Arthur let out a loud groan, "I already told you, Alfred, I can't cure impatience."

Francis giggled, putting his hand over his mouth, trying to conceal it, "Why are you in such a rush?"

"Why do you think?" Alfred snapped, not noticing the anger in his voice.

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Francis cut him off, "Leave him alone, this is a hard transition for him."

Alfred let out a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Priest, I just…" He trailed off.

"How many times to I have to tell you, Alfred, Francis is just fine, you don't need to call me priest," Francis reassured, waving him off, "and don't worry about it, I was just joking."

"To answer your question," Arthur began irritably, "we're moving fast enough. Remember, Francis only got an hour's worth of sleep before we left."

"I'm fine!" Francis exclaimed.

Arthur turned his head to his husband, "Then why are you complaining so much?"

"I wasn't!"

Alfred turned his head away from the two and let them bicker. He would keep listening, he needs something to distract himself from his thirst, but as the two raised their voices at one another, his ears began to ache. A curse of sensitive hearing. His head pounded, and he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, trying to relieve himself of the pain.

He reopened his eyes to see it: Fort Greenwall*. Alfred stopped where he was, sliding his pack off of his back. He was wearing most of his armor already, just not his helmet or gauntlets. Pulling the ebony armor out of his pack, and slipping the gauntlets onto his hands, he was given a couple strange glances from Arthur and Francis.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked as Alfred slipped his helmet on.

"What do you think?" Alfred replied, pointing ahead, "that's Fort Greenwall. I'm keeping myself protected."

"What do you mean? We're not going in there, are we?" Francis exclaimed, sounding scared and defensive.

Alfred stared at the Nord, "Yeah, it's in the middle of the path."

"I'm not going in there," Francis stated firmly, crossing his arms, "I will not hurt or kill anyone."

Alfred shook his head, "We're going in there."

"No we're not!" Arthur argued, pointing at Alfred, "He is a priest of Mara! He's not going to burst into a bandit fort and kill whomever gets in his way!"

"How else are we going to get through, then?" Alfred prompted, "It's in the middle of the path!"

"We can go around," Francis offered, "stay in the shadows."

"It's a large fort, it would take forever to get around." Alfred complained.

Arthur crossed his arms, mirroring the same expression and stance Francis held, "It would take longer to fight ourselves through it."

Alfred glanced back and forth between the two, before pulling his helmet and gauntlets back off, "I'm not going to win, so I'll stop arguing." As he stuffed his armor back into his pack, he noticed that the two mages had started walking away, off the trail.

With a groan, Alfred heaved his pack over his shoulder, and jogged to catch up with the other two. As Francis had offered, they stayed close to the shadows, crouching and staying hidden from all outside eyes. Stealth seemed easier for Alfred, for some reason, almost like being turned into a vampire made his feet lighter. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. Although having tremendous fighting experience, he lacked in stealth abilities, but he made up for it with strength and skill. They walked in the shadow of the fort, staying close, but hidden. The hills seemed taller when off the main path, which made it that much more difficult. Alfred was used to climbing tall hills and mountains, he'd done it many times before, but with being so weak and hungry the way he was, it was harder.

Back on the main path, Alfred heard Arthur immediately deliver a bitter remark, "Happy now? We're on the main path again."

Alfred rubbed his temples, trying to rid of his headache, "Yeah, sure."

"Fine, be moody." Arthur grumbled, turning his attention back to his husband, and starting a conversation with him, which quickly turned back into playful bickering. Which didn't help Alfred's headache.

As the hours drug on, his throat became drier, and he could feel himself become more irritable. He rubbed his death-cold hands together, trying to warm them, which was unsuccessful. He reached his right hand down into his satchel, and pulled out the map, trying to find where they were. They were headed to Windhelm*, then to continue north to Winterhold*, where the College was located and try and get the incantation from one of the mages or teachers. A good idea, if they could make it there.

Alfred spotted Fort Greenwall on the map, then spotted the general area where they were. A little ahead of them was the small village of Kynesgrove*, which had an inn. He looked back up from his map, and to the stars and moon, noticing that it was nearing dawn. It would be dawn by the time they got to Kynesgrove.

"Hey," Alfred began, glancing over his shoulder at the two mages, "there's an inn up ahead, wanna rent a room or two for the night?"

"Why should we?" Francis replied, "We can make it to Windhelm by nightfall."

Alfred looked back ahead, rolling his eyes, "I'm a vampire, I'm pretty sure people would notice in direct sunlight."

"Which village are we nearing?" Arthur asked, peeking over Alfred's shoulder, trying to read the map, "Kynesgrove?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied, "There a problem?"

"No, I just hear that a room in Braidwood Inn* is pretty cheap," Arthur shook his head, "only ten gold."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, "I've stayed there a few times while on my travels, it's pretty good. The mead's not bad."

"You Nords and your mead," Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Not all Nords," Francis protested, "there's nothing better than some fine Emberbrand* Wine to hit the spot… Definitely better than mead."

"I would argue, but I have too much of a headache for that." Alfred replied, smiling at Francis.

"How long have you had your headache?" Arthur asked, sounding concerned.

"Since before we passed Fort Greenwall."

Arthur glanced to Francis, "Are you feeling weak? Is it hard to concentrate?"

"Yeah, I feel weak, but I just transformed, so I expected that," Alfred shrugged, "Hard to concentrate? Not really… I mean maybe a little? There's just so many sounds and smells coming from everywhere, and…" He trailed off, glancing back and forth between the Arthur and Francis, noticing the scent of blood coming from them again.

"And?" Arthur prompted.

"And," Alfred restarted, "it's kinda distracting," He turned to continue walking.

"Are you hungry or thirsty at all?" Caution was very apparent in the Breton's voice.

The inside of Alfred's mouth felt like a desert. He had been drinking water all night, but it had always failed to quench his thirst. As for hunger, his stomach had been aching for food since he woke, but he never tried to eat, for he was pretty sure it wouldn't do anything but nauseate him. Slowly, he answered the question, "...Yes."

"You're going to have to feed when we get to the inn," Arthur half-muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "can you last that long?"

Alfred waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine, I'm not that hungry."

"A hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire, as they say." Francis pointed out.

"I'll be okay." Alfred promised, and continued walking. As long as they got to the inn, he would be fine. He wasn't having any uncontrollable urges, or anything like that, but he might start having some if he doesn't make it to the inn soon.

.

Braidwood Inn was lively. Music was playing, people were singing and drinking. Not one person inside was completely sober, with exception of the innkeeper, and, of course, Alfred and the two mages. Alfred was staying near the back of the inn, trying to remain unnoticed by the crowd. He heard the song about the Dragonborn being sang by the Bard*, which gave him a sense of pride.

Francis, who had been buying a room for the three of them, came walking up, saying "This way," leading them in the correct direction. Alfred followed him to the door closest to the exit, which was ideal. It would provide fast escape if necessary.

Francis opened the door to the small room, and Alfred scanned it. It had one large bed in the middle, a side chair, a probably empty dresser, and a nightstand. A bit compact for three people, but they could make it work. Alfred glanced to the bed again, guessing that Arthur and Francis would be sharing it, and he'd end up sleeping on the floor, or in the chair.

He dropped his backpack and his satchel on the ground beside the dresser, and started taking off his armor, trying to make himself comfortable. "I'm guessing you two are sharing the bed?" Alfred asked, wondering if his prediction was correct.

"Well, Arthur, at the very least, is sleeping in the bed." Francis answered quickly.

"Why? I'd be perfectly fine on the floor." Arthur protested.

"True, but you also insisted on letting him," Francis gestured to Alfred, "drink your blood, so I think you should sleep on the bed."

"Francis, I—"

"You know what," Alfred interrupted, "I'm just going to sleep on the floor, alright? You two share the bed."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms, "You won't complain about it?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I'm sure," he grumbled, plopping down in the chair beside the bed, closing his eyes out of exhaustion.

There was a long silence in the room, and Francis and Arthur set their bags down, and got a little settled down. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, Alfred feeling his stare on him. He peeked open one eye, and looked back at the Breton, "What?" He asked.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, "...You need to feed."

Although his roaring stomach, Alfred felt a little nauseated at the sentence. He cleared his throat, "I think I can wait a little."

Arthur shook his head, crossing his arms, "Like Francis said earlier, a hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire… Besides, I'd like to get this over with."

Alfred swallowed hard, "I… I don't really want to."

"Why?" Arthur asked calmly.

"I just… I don't know, I'm…" He paused, allowing himself to sigh, "I'm scared."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, his eyes not even hinting to his emotions or thoughts. Alfred dropped his stare to the ground, clearing his throat again, trying to fill the silence of the room, but it was not broken. As he sat there, Alfred ran his tongue across his sharp teeth.

Francis broke the silence, "What are you afraid of, exactly?"

Alfred cocked his jaw back and forth a few times before answering, "I don't know, I'm just… I mean, I'm a vampire!" He ended up exclaiming, probably a little too loudly, "what if I lose control or something?"

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Francis replied, "I'll make sure you don't, okay?"

It was a simple reassurance, but it made Alfred feel ten times better than he did. His nausea faded almost immediately, and he gave a quick sigh of relief, "Thanks, Francis, that helps." He glanced over to Arthur, who looked a little reassured as well.

"Then let's get this over with." Arthur replied, rolling up his sleeve.

With a quivering sigh, Alfred stood, and sat beside Arthur on the bed. Quietly, he asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Arthur nodded, "You need to keep your sanity."

"Alright," Alfred said slowly, staring down at Arthur's arm.

"Whenever you're ready," Arthur offered, holding his arm up closer to Alfred.

Alfred took a hold of Arthur's arm, and hesitated before he sunk his fangs into his friend's flesh. Contrary to the sweet scent, his blood tasted somewhat bitter. He heard Arthur let out a small grunt of pain, and Alfred would've pulled away, yet he couldn't. He had become entranced. The relief from his hunger was almost immediate, and world seemed to fade away causing him to close his eyes and bite down harder. The sounds that came from all directions muted, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his drinking, and the only thing he could focus on was the addictingly bitter taste of the blood that poured into his mouth.

But everything came crashing back to him in a single second, as he was smacked in the back of the head. His eyes snapped open and he gasped, letting go of the Breton's arm, and glancing around the room, seeking out the source of the attack, feeling aggression rise inside him. His eyes landed on Francis, who was sitting on the other side of the bed, beside Arthur, who lay pale and motionless. The sudden aggression faded quickly, as Alfred's stomach dropped. He softly cleared his throat, "Is… is he… alive?"

"Yes, he's fine," Francis said quickly, to Alfred's relief, "he just passed out."

"Shit!" Alfred exclaimed, "Did I really drink that much? I didn't mean to, I just—"

"No you didn't drink too much," Francis sounded strangely calm, "it's just how fast he lost it… He just needs to rest."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief, putting his head in his hands, and his palms brushing against the blood that was still on his lips. He wiped away the blood with the back of his hand, and licked it off, trying to be discrete with it.

A sudden sound pulled his attention. It sounded like the soft ringing of windchimes blowing steadily in the wind. Alfred turned his head, seeing a bright, glowing, yellow-white light illuminating from Francis' left hand, and hovering slightly over Arthur's bleeding wrist. The wound began glowing in response, and the Breton's flesh healed almost instantaneously.

"I didn't know you were a healer," Alfred stated, looking up from Arthur's arm to stare Francis in the eye.

The Nord leaned back a little and returned the gaze, "I know more than healing, I'm very skilled with wards*," he paused, "I'm not too bad at destruction, but ever since I found my calling with the Temple, I don't use them… What about you? Know any magic?"

Alfred chuckled, looking to the floorboards, "Not really, mostly a few, very simple healing and destruction spells. Nothing fancy."

"Well, at least you can heal yourself if needed."

Alfred nodded before sighing, "Thanks, by the way."

Francis, who had leaned over and started playing with Arthur's shaggy hair, turned his head to look back at him, "For what?"

"Coming with us," Alfred replied like it was obvious, "healing him, keeping me from killing him…" He hesitated before continuing, "I was so entranced, I don't think I would have been able to—"

"I don't need to know that." Francis interrupted quickly, closing his blue eyes, "You're welcome, though."

"Do you think we'll actually find what we need?"

Francis was quiet for a long moment, seeming to consider the question thoroughly. He let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling, "I don't know what to think, Alfred… It's not that I don't trust our abilities to get it, or find it, it's just… This might not work. We're putting all our faith into a rumor."

"You put your faith into Mara." Alfred stated.

Francis looked offended, "What is that supposed to mean? Mara isn't just a rumor!"

"I'm not calling Mara a rumor, Francis, what I'm saying is that there's no proof of her existence until we meet her, or don't meet her…" Alfred was trying to sound optimistic, "We can hope that it works, but it might not. All we have is our faith."

Francis blinked at him, "If you want to put it that way, then fine, just don't compare Mara to a spell of borderline necromancy* again, okay?"

Alfred gave a smile, "I won't, I apologize."

Francis looked back to Arthur, running his fingers through the Breton's hair again, almost like he was comforting him. Alfred let out a small chuckle, Francis seemingly not noticing, and stood, "I'm going to try and get some rest, if that's alright."

"Go for it." Francis replied, glancing over his shoulder.

"If you need anything, wake me, okie dokie?"

Francis nodded silently.

With a sigh, Alfred unfolded a blanket out on the floor, and laid down. He took a few moments to get comfortable, and daydream— well, more like reminise. He hadn't been away from home very long, only about a year now, and so much has happened. He's crossed Skyrim many times, helped start a civil war, and countless other things. Just to think, only a year ago he was a farmer in a tiny village with his brother. Alfred narrowed his eyes and stared at the ceiling. How was Matthew? Was he able to afford the farm on his own? Or do all the work by himself? Closing his eyes, he began to worry. As soon as this whole vampire thing was dealt with, he would stop by the farm and see how his twin was doing.


Terms:

Draugr- Undead warriors of Skyrim (Nords).

Dragon Priest- Priests that lived thousands of years ago, serving the Dragon overlords that ruled Skyrim. These priests were given special abilities and knowledge from the dragons.

Sabre Cats- Large predators of Skyrim, that live in mountains, tundra, or plains. Usually ambush travelers who stray too far from the main roads.

Fort Greenwall- A large bandit fort near Riften.

Windhelm- City located in northeastern Skyrim. Also known as the "City of Kings."

Winterhold- City in far northeastern Skyrim.

Kynesgrove- Small mining town directly south of Windhelm.

Braidwood Inn- Inn and pub located in Kynesgrove.

Emberbrand- Type of wine.

Bard- Musicians that play lutes, flutes, drums, and sing songs. Usually found in pubs.

Ward- A spell that can be cast to protect/act as a shield for the caster. Can protect any kind of danger, depending on skill level.

Necromancy (Skyrim's definition)- A mage who casts spells to communicate, conjugate, or resurrect the dead.

~Feliks-00