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ROË
Seeking Disclosure
The Garden
"For now," Serana said to Roë, "we simply do what we've been doing so far. We follow my father's orders."
They'd emerged from the Soul Cairn and the laboratory, into the garden bathed in twilight. Instead of it being dawn, like they assumed, however, it was the middle of the night again. There was no way they'd spent almost twenty-four hours in the Cairn, so maybe time just went differently between the two worlds. So much the better, now they wouldn't have to wait out the day in the creepy laboratory.
"We do what you think is best, Serana," Roë said, being completely sincere.
"I'm not sure, to be honest, but yes, I think we're better off playing along for now. As for the Scroll, I'll simply say I killed my mother over it. My father will be so pleased to hear it that he won't question it."
"You sure about that?"
She let out a short laugh. "Even after a thousand years, I still know how to throw sand in my father's eyes."
With a nod, Roë merely said, "If you're sure." After all, Serana knew best, and she was just a fledgling, as people never stopped reminding her. She also had no taste for politics, or scheming, or any of those things. It was why she never advanced beyond squad chief in the guard, so many lifetimes ago.
"Yeah," Serana nodded. "As sure as I can be. Besides, we can't defy my father like this. We're obviously two swingin' ladies, but while I was sleeping and you were busy uh… not yet being born, my father was growing more powerful by the year. So we can't just say, 'sorry dad, we're done playing errand girls, we're going to live by the seaside, bye'."
"Wish we could though." Roë felt the nerves coming on as she tested the waters, saying, "I bet we could have a pleasant existence, away from all the conniving, just the two of us."
With a smile, Serana said, "I love your simple honesty, Roë, I really do."
Not the answer she'd expected, but not the one she'd dreaded either. The urge to kiss Serana welled up inside her and she had all the trouble in the world holding it back.
"Everything alright?"
Giving a nervous smile, Roë just said, "Yes, I'm fine, was miles away."
"Looked like a pleasant few miles."
"It… was, in a way."
Serana only grinned mysteriously. "Well, let's go see my father. No point disobeying him until we can properly defend ourselves."
"Going to be hard to read the Scrolls with that Moth Priest blind as a bat," Roë said.
Serana shrugged. "Oh, you can be sure that my father already knew this would happen, and that he's already thought of alternatives."
"Didn't the priest say he knew of another way?"
"Mmmm-hm. And you don't have to think for a moment that my father will send anyone else than us to make that other way happen. The second we give him the Scroll, he'll have another little task for us."
"Well, like you said, we do as he says for the time being, right?"
"Mm." Serana stopped walking. "You know, Roë, maybe it's best if I go report to my father alone."
"You're… not going to tell him I'm dead, are you?"
Serana slapped her shoulder playfully. "Tch, no. But if there's only one person telling the story, there's far less to keep straight."
"Oh… sure, if you think it's best."
"Aw, don't give me that look, I'm not trying to get rid of you." Roë wasn't even aware she was giving Serana any kind of look, let alone any kind of 'that look'. "I'm serious, it's just better this way. Ooh, how 'bout…" Serana had a mischievous grin, "I say you fought the dragon alone while I killed my mother. That way you won't have to answer any questions."
Nice of Serana to be so falsely generous, but no. "There's no need for that. We did that together. Just… say you went to speak to her alone and that I waited outside."
"Fine," Serana said with a shrug. "It's your glory that's lost."
Because this 'life' sure was glorious.
"What do I do in the meantime?"
Shrugging again, Serana said, "Go for a drink. Get to know some people. Play some board games with Garen. Take dancing lessons from Hestla. Play fetch with Fura." Realizing what she'd said, she blinked and rephrased, "I mean, you and Fura play fetch with the hounds."
She almost said, but I don't know anyone here, but realized she couldn't cling to Serana forever, and if she was going to be nobility, she had to act the part. And that meant not being afraid to meet new people. Well. New creatures. "Right, I'll just… roam around the castle some."
"Be sure to visit the dungeons," Serana said in a bubbly voice, walking towards her father's audience chamber. "But don't get greedy."
She was rather hungry, she had to admit, even though she dreaded the thought of feeding. She'd been able to restrain herself with the half-Orsimer girl, but it had been close. Still, she knew she'd have to be careful, because if it happened too often, if she lost herself in the feeding too many times…
Namasur welcomed her with a curious mixture of subservience and simmering resentment. He probably hadn't dared to show the latter with Serana present, but Roë alone seemed to be fair game. Again, she was reminded of how little she amounted to compared to Serana, nobility or not.
"Lady Roë," he said, on a tone that Roë could interpret no different than forced politeness. "You're back. The prisoners are at your disposal."
The half-Orsimer girl sat against the bars, her eyes closed and her head lying back against the metal. The young Nord boy sat by her, holding her hand.
Of course. Roë had almost killed her, and no matter how feisty she was, losing near-lethal levels of blood would make any living human weak for quite a while. But how long had that while been, exactly?
"Namasur. You said, 'you're back'."
"I did, Lady Roë."
She resented having to ask this dubious type any questions beyond the strictly necessary, but she still asked, "How… long was I gone?"
Surprised, Namasur stammered, "Why… if memory serves, three, no… four nights?"
Damn, time really did pass differently in this world.
"There were rumours starting that Lady Serana and yourself had come upon… unfortunate circumstances," Namasur told her, his voice betraying that part of him had hoped for those rumours to be true, at least as far as Roë was concerned, but she didn't pursue it. "But those were apparently merely that, rumours."
Yes, Namasur, that uppity bitch who told you to treat the prisoners right and who saddled you with twice the work is still here to pester you.
And she wasn't about to let him watch her in the throes of feeding ecstasy. It felt too… intimate. The feeding bout with the half-orc had been the same as with poor Acrus. The only thing close to physical pleasure she could still feel, and it was addictive and overwhelming. She wasn't about to let Namasur watch her, eyes closed, moaning with her hands going up and down a human's body, and the human's hands on hers. Once had been enough. For some reason she didn't mind with Serana.
No, not 'for some reason'. She knew the reason damn well.
She looked over the prisoners, trying to decide. It was a hard choice to make, because she might be damning one of them to more than a few days or weeks of recovery.
"Fine. I'll go next," one of the prisoners, a young Breton man, small and timid, spoke up. He looked miserable, even more than the others, his stringy hair hanging over his face. "I don't care. Go on, but if you're going to kill me, make sure you do it proper."
"This one," she said to Namasur. "I'll take him to my room."
"Lady Roë," Namasur stammered, wringing his hands in nervousness. "This… this is most irregular."
"I don't care," she said flatly. "You're going to allow it."
"I… of course, Lady Roë. But Lord Harkon – "
"Lord Harkon won't mind," Roë said, being curt with him, making sure he knew she wasn't just Serana's side-kick, and that she had teeth of her own. "So neither should you. Unless you presume to know Lord Harkon's mind better than I do?" There, that was a hitter.
"Certainly… certainly not, my Lady," he muttered, with a nervous, apologetic grin. Roë wanted to swipe it clean off his face with her nails. She knew damn well he considered her an upstart fledgling, like the nephew of Elisif the Fair who made a sudden and prolific career in the Guard even though he had no skills, experience, or talent. She'd always hated the little shit, but she realized that maybe, to some, she was no different from him.
No matter, they would obey her, and they would like it. All the Vampires in this castle would shut up and listen if she spoke, from now on, even Orthjolf and Vingalmo, the two conniving right hand men of her Lord. Apart from Harkon and Serana, they were all beneath her, and it was high time they realized and respected it. Starting with this vile slave keeper.
"Good. I don't care how things have been here for hundreds of years. They've changed now that I'm here, so I suggest you get used to it before I throw you on the pyre and replace you with someone less repulsive." She was overstepping her bounds here, but it didn't matter. They had to know their place. "Now bring me my meal instead of mewling."
The false submissiveness had gone now, and what smouldered in Namasur's eyes was contained but pure disgruntlement. Let him. As long as he knew his place. And he did, turning the key in the lock and opening the cell door, his long pole in the other hand. Energy crackled at its end. Probably a minor enchantment cast on it, not too impressive, but still powerful enough to seriously hurt a living human.
"Out, prisoner."
At least he didn't call them cattle. Well, not with Roë present, at least.
The Breton stepped forward and Namasur grabbed him roughly by the collar, shoving him just hard enough so he fell at Roë's feet.
"That's enough of that," Roë commanded. She could all but see his face tell her she was despicable for being so attached to these humans. He could shove his crackling rod right up his withered asshole for all Roë cared.
She helped the Breton to his feet, roughly enough to show who was in charge, and said, "Come on, you. I asked for room service." She hauled the prisoner up the stairs, and to her quarters. A few Vampires saw her, but apart from a mildly surprised look here and there, no one seemed to have much interest in the meal Roë was dragging through the castle.
She kicked her own door open, shoved the prisoner inside, and closed it behind her again.
From where he sat on the wooden floorboards, the young man looked at her with hopeful eyes. "You're the… you're the one who stood up for us a while ago," he said quietly, as if the walls had ears. Maybe they did. "Do you need me for… the next step?"
Uh, what? "What are you talking about?" Roë asked, impatient.
"I… well," the prisoner stammered, "This… the whole 'up to my room'-thing was a… a trick? A ruse, right?"
What in Oblivion was this dunghead babbling about. "A ruse? For what?"
"To… to enact a… a plan… to, to free us?" the man asked, growing more and more insecure as he talked.
Oh, was that what he thought? That was ridiculous. As if she was going to set them free. Not only would the other Vampires tear her limb from limb and feed her shreds to the hounds, but also… Roë was a Vampire, and a Vampire had to sustain itself. No, no. This prisoner wasn't here to be involved in a secret plan.
"Boy," Roë said simply, "I'm afraid you're here for a much simpler reason than that."
"Y… you…" the Breton's eyes looked up at her, pleading. "You just want to…"
"Feed. Yes. Then you go back down." Did these people really think she was going to risk herself for them? And had they forgotten what she'd done already? "Don't look at me like that. Because of me, you get aired regularly, you have books, you're treated like people instead of like animals, and you're out of this walking-corpse state. Isn't that enough? Huh?" She felt herself getting angry. "And now you try to guilt me into breaking you all out? Doesn't that seem a bit entitled to you?"
"I… I thought…"
"Don't think! Just be happy for what I've done for you."
"Happy?" the prisoner spat defiantly, from his place on the floor. "Your little gestures don't mean anything. They're just things you do to quiet your own guilt. Because in the end, all you want to do is feed on us, just like the others."
How dared he? After all she'd done, all the risks she'd taken. This worm still wanted more, and had the nerve to spit on everything she'd arranged for him and his worthless consorts? "I've heard enough," she growled, her hand lashing out, hooking around the prisoner's rags and pulling him to her. The next moment, her fangs impaled his throat and warm, rich blood spurted out, straight into her throat. A hard, sharp rush went down from her chest, right down through her guts and, it felt, all the way down to her perineum. The blood gulped down her esophagus and into the warm, greedy cavern of her stomach. Her arms wrapped around the prisoner, one hand clinging to his ribcage, the other latching on to his lower back.
The prisoner let out a single, impotent moan, instantly going limp in her arms, and she drank, rage and hunger blotting out everything else in her mind. Blood ran down her chin and throat, but she didn't care, the blood coming so fast she couldn't swallow it all down.
Then the prisoner's body made a single jerk, and the blood stopped.
She let the body drop to the floorboards, still so full of anger she hadn't realized what she'd done yet. But when she saw him lying completely drained, all the emotions were driven from her, replaced by an oily black mixture of guilt, shame, and despair.
She'd killed again.
The prisoner lay on the ground, his limbs in awkward positions, his skin drained to white and stretched taut over his bones.
It had happened again. What would she say to Serana? Should she even say anything? Even as she stood over the prisoner's body, panic rising up inside of her, she unconsciously scooped some of the blood on her throat up with her finger and put it in her mouth. She had to keep this quiet, she had to make sure –
There was an intense, brief pain in the side of her throat, and the next moment, her muscles stopped working. Her knees buckled and a pair of arms held her up.
Confused, her mind worked furiously, trying to make sense of why her body suddenly no longer responded. There was a strange complacency overtaking her, a desire to close her eyes and just let whatever was happening, happen, even as mounting and screaming terror vied for control. And then she realized what was going on.
She was being fed on, oh Y'ffre, she was being fed on!
She felt herself being gently lowered into her bed while it was as if her insides were liquefying and being sucked out through the side of her throat. The moan her attacker let out sounded distinctly male, but that was all she could understand. She didn't even know who was doing this, or why. She'd die here, not even knowing who was condemning her to this slow, horrible, yet comforting and pleasant death.
Her eyes looked at the ceiling, her body paralyzed, as she lay on her bed with her mysterious assailant continuing to feed, slowly, as if he wanted to savour every drop.
"What's this then?" she heard a voice, coming from slightly farther away, past her assailant, sounding full of pleasant surprise and satisfaction. "This little vista I have coincidentally stumbled upon? The two individuals in this castle I hate most, both helpless yet perfectly able to hear me."
Roë was able to turn her eyes just a bit, enough to see the scraggy brown hair, parted in the middle. Even in her numbness, she knew she knew who this belonged to.
"Now, the choice, both possibilities equally tempting. Win favour with Lord Harkon by saving this worthless little she-elf, and getting rid of my good friend Vingalmo at the same time, or join my dead, dear rival in partaking from noble blood and gaining power so great I might challenge Lord Harkon himself."
Oh Y'ffre no, she was so helpless.
"One choice gets rid of Vingalmo, one of this puny little upstart. Hmm, choices, choices."
Silence fell, and all Roë could hear was the quiet sound of her blood being drained.
"I suppose," the voice said at length, "I would be better off sticking with a rival I know."
Faintly, she felt fingers coming to rest on her thigh, and with a ripping sound, a tear was made in her pants, above the knee. "We will sort out our little quarrel later, dear Vingalmo. For now, we will both take the blood from her unworthy flesh."
The next moment, a sharp, brief pain shot through her thigh, immediately disappearing in a new wave of numbness as both Vampires violated her, draining her dry as she lay with arms and legs wide, looking up at the ceiling with eyes that slowly darkened.
Her end came, and she embraced it with willing refusal. The feeding told her it was alright, that she could just go to sleep and be rid of this existence, and though her conscious mind knew she was being violated in the worst way a Vampire could be, a calm tranquillity came over her and she felt joy in it, her body unwilling to resist this terrible bliss. But at the same time, the Vampire in her kicked and screamed and snarled against the numbness, determined not to go quietly even as her body was nothing but quiet. All she could do was move her jaw, as if she was gasping for air.
This was how she would finally die then, on a bed, sprawled, while two traitors enjoyed her body together, their rivalry put aside for the ecstasy they were feeling now. Teeth were sunk in her throat and her thigh, taking her blood slowly, to make it last as long as possible. She would die as nothing more than fulfilment for their desires.
Was this how it would turn out? Was this all she would amount to? It would seem so, and even though she knew it wasn't, her body told her it was alright.
The last of her strength fled her, and she came to the realization she'd never be able to tell Serana how she felt. It was the only regret she was still able to muster. Serana would never know, her feelings would die with her.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And yet, this is how it would be.
A shock went through her leg, only faintly registering in Roë's darkening mind. Then another, a blast coming from her throat as the teeth dug in them were torn free, lacerating her skin.
The draining stopped. She hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, but she no longer slid away.
"You two conniving, traitorous bastards," a voice said at the edge of her reality. It was a young voice, female, sounding slightly nasal, with a peculiar accent. It was a voice she knew, but not very well. "Am I glad to finally have an excuse to stake the both of you."
Silence fell again, then the voice spoke, with considerable effort. "I should… go get help. But…"
Roë was too half-dead to still feel panic or fear.
"… You're lying there, so vulnerable, so helpless. Your blood so rich and powerful."
Maybe all this one would do was finish her off.
"I should… I should…"
There was the sound of lips being licked, deafening in the silence.
Suddenly there was a grunt of effort, and the voice cried out, "Lord Harkon! Lord Harkon!"
Footsteps hastened out of the room, and seconds later, several more came running in. There were voices, but she couldn't register what they said. Something cold and smooth was set against her lips, and lukewarm but unlife-giving blood dribbled into her mouth.
As strength returned to her body, so did clarity return to her mind, and vision to her eyes. Serana was standing over her, her fiery eyes full of concern. Roë's arm weighed a tonne, but she was able to bring it up enough for her fingers to briefly touch Serana's cheek.
"That was close," Serana breathed. "A few seconds later and you would have been my late bodyguard."
She tried to speak, but could only move her mouth. More blood was poured in, and energy returned to her, her vision now clear and her mind lucid. She didn't know exactly what had happened yet, but she was still in existence! Her feelings would not die with her, not this time.
"D… did you… s…"
"Save you?" Serana laughed. "No, I was in audience with my dear father. He'll be here soon."
Other Vampires stood around her, looking concerned. Roë doubted that more than a few of them actually were.
"Wh… what happened?"
Serana turned away from Roë, and to someone else. "I think you're the best person to tell us, aren't you?"
A young female Vampire with a thin, pretty face cleared her throat. "I was doing my rounds, Lady Serana, and I saw this door was open."
This had been the voice she'd heard. The nasal sound, the accent, this was Fura, in charge of security.
"I came upon our Lord's dear, loyal right hand-men trying to consume the Lady Roë. So I… intervened."
"And by 'intervened'," a male voice sounded. Roë turned her head and saw Lord Harkon entering her chamber, "… you mean murdered them? Two of your fellows?"
The young Vampire's mouth fell open. "B… but my Lord, it was the only – "
"Orthjolf and Vingalmo were connivers, but they were also high-placed members of my court," Harkon threatened the girl. "And you staked them in the back!"
Serana's hand closed around Roë's helping her sit up.
"I…" Fura feebly protested, "I saved your…"
"Silence!" Harkon snapped, the other immediately obeying.
After letting the moment sink in, Harkon proclaimed, "Fura Bloodmouth, for the murders of Ortholf and Vingalmo, you are to be relieved of your appointment as guardian-at-arms, and imprisoned with minimal feeding until your Lord has determined a final sentence."
"Father," Serana tried carefully to persuade Harkon, "Fura saved Roë. Perhaps her methods were a little… overzealous, but surely you agree that trying to consume one of our blood is a heinous crime?"
"So is staking two prominent members of this court," Harkon replied, sounding calm, but the wrath under his voice was clear. "Ortholf and Vingalmo have been punished for their transgression, but that does not mean this…" he made a shooing gesture at Fura, "… lowly vassal was the one who had licence to carry it out on her own accord."
"But…" Fura blurted out, "… what should I have done? They were about to – "
"I said silence!" Harkon bellowed, causing the erstwhile guardian-at-arms to recoil in fear. Roë pitied the poor thing, and felt guilty at the same time. "One more word out of you, Fura Bloodmouth, and I'll feed your bowels to your own dogs while you watch!"
Thankfully, the girl took the hint and shut up.
"Modhna, take her away and lock her up until I've decided what to do with her."
Harkon's lap dog did as she was told, taking Fura by the upper arm and leading her away. Before she left the room, though, Roë mustered up the courage to say, "Thank you, Fura."
She got a look in return that could mean either understanding absolution or pure accusatory despise.
"And you too," Harkon barked. "Not one word. Serana, get this waste of blood back on her feet, then come to my audience chamber. Send her in and wait by the door until I summon you."
"Father – "
"Do as I say!" Then he turned to the Vampires who'd come to gawk. "The rest of you, out! Before I make you wish you were standing in the sun!"
Everyone, including Lord Harkon, cleared off, leaving Serana and Roë alone, sitting on the bed. Roë needed Serana to keep her stable somewhat, since her strength was still pathetic.
Serana turned to her and looked her in the eyes. "Are you alright, Roë?"
Slowly, Roë managed to nod. "Yes I'm… it was close, but… poor Fura."
"Nevermind her," Serana said, slightly bothered. "What's important right now is that you're still with us. Orthjolf and Vingalmo had almost… well…"
"Is it like… in story books?"
Serana raised an eyebrow, not understanding.
"When you drink a Vampire's blood, you gain its power?"
"Oh, that. Yes, in a way, but… if it's not willing, you have to drain the other Vampire completely. We call it consumption, and it's a terrible transgression, upsetting one's Lord's hierarchy for one's own advancement."
"It was… close," Roë breathed. It had been, she thought she was dead when Fura had freed her.
"Well," Serana said, "thank whatever Aedra or Daedra you believe in that you're alive. Losing you now would have been… painful."
Maybe it was her brush with death, maybe it was her own feelings reaching a head, or maybe it was what Serana had just said, but without warning, her love for her friend came flooding back, almost knocking her over, taking possession of her, making her belly cramp with anxious anticipation, and remembering how she'd felt when she was on the verge of death, her love made the decision for her. What people left unsaid remained that way, and she would not make the mistake twice, of waiting until she was no longer able to tell how she felt.
Leaning forward, she tilted her head and planted her lips on Serana's, feeling her cold mouth on hers, her arms wrapping around Serana's waist. She felt surprised resistance, but that was merely due to the abruptness. It had to be.
For a brief moment, Roë felt nothing but joy as their lips touched, but then her tongue hit the hard wall of Serana's teeth.
"Roë, wh… what… what in Oblivion… are you insane?" she heard Serana sputter, pulling away from her, away from her kiss and out of her weakened embrace. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Roë felt everything inside her sink down into an oily, painful, cramped, black mass. All the love, all the anticipation, all the hope, all the tension, it all crashed down, drowning in the cold, viscous oil of her breaking heart.
Not this. Anything but this.
"I… I thought…" she could only say.
"Roë," Serana said, shifting away from Roë on the bed. "You thought wrong, whatever it was." Sadness came over her beautiful face. "Oh Roë, Roë… please don't tell me you were…"
There was nothing she could do but admit it. "… In love, yes."
Oh no, not this. Not after all she'd been through, not after all she'd hoped for.
Serana sighed, slumping forward. "Oh, Roë… what were you even trying to do?"
How could she ask such a thing? What did she think she'd been hoping for? "I was hoping I'd be able to feel the same love I want to give. I was hoping to find joy with you rather than this pain!"
"Joy?" Serana asked incredulously. "We're Vampires. Whatever joys love holds are barred for us forever. We're dead, Roë, we can't jump in bed together and touch each other in funny places."
"We don't have to either," Roë snapped, the heartbreak amplified by the lack of understanding Serana was giving her now. "We could just… be together. Hold each other."
Serana sighed again and shook her head. "Look. You're great and all, but what you're hoping for will never happen. I wish I could say something else, but I can't. It wouldn't be fair to either you or me."
The last bits of her heart that still stuck out on the surface, now sank down into the cold, black oil, submerged forever. She couldn't stop herself from hiding her head in her arms. Right now, all she wanted was just to disappear. Part of her even wanted to beg Serana's forgiveness for loving her.
Thankfully, she felt a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Roë… I'm not mad at you, I was just... surprised. And, well, a bit angry that you… well, against my will. But I'm not mad."
There was nothing Roë could say. Nothing mattered anymore. This whole time, she knew that when the moment came, it would either be pure joy or complete failure. It had turned out to be the last one.
"Roë. I will always be your friend."
She didn't care, she didn't want a friend, she wanted this damn woman to press her naked body against hers at dawn before they closed their eyes. She didn't need a damn friend, she needed someone to caress her hair and hold her in her arms. This friendship consolation prize was an insult. How could Serana ever begin to think it would fix anything to toss her this worthless scrap?
"We'll talk about this later, Roë. Now you really have to go see my father. Letting him wait now would be very dangerous. He's on edge now he's so close to fulfilling his prophecy."
So what. Let him rip her into bloody shreds. What did it matter.
Only, the Vampire would not allow it, pushing herself off the bed and to her feet. No way out for her. Roë realized her dead body would do anything it could to make this broken heart last all eternity.
"Roë… this dead human, did you…?"
"What do you fucking care?" she snapped, shutting Serana up.
Without a word, she walked out of her room and dragged herself through the main hall, and to the audience chamber, not caring who saw her.
Lord Harkon was sitting on his throne of stone, his expression thunderous. Part of Roë hoped he'd make good on that expression and defile her body by turning it into blood, flesh, bone and guts, leaving her insides steaming on the ground for everyone to see.
But all he said was, "You get so careless one more time and you'll spend the rest of your days in the sun pit, burning at every dawn and wailing over your healing wounds in the night."
Roë said nothing, just looked at the ground. All she could think of was Serana and how much she wanted to wake up with her head on her shoulder. And how she'd never experience that.
"Your negligence cost two important members of this court their lives. Do you even understand this?"
She didn't reply, just kept looking at the ground.
"And look at me when I speak to you!"
She wanted to defy him, wanted to anger him enough so he'd butcher her, but she couldn't, and raised her head to face him.
"Orthjolf and Vingalmo were scheming snakes, but they were in their place for a reason. Now you've robbed me of two important snitches. Because make no mistake, I would have destroyed them both long ago if they weren't so valuable at feeding me information about the other, and the accomplices to their plans. Now, this entire balance, which I have spent so many decades refining, is gone." He paused for effect. "Fura is an expendable asset, and she can rot for all I care, but if she hadn't intervened, I would have had two powerful usurpers out for my blood right now!"
"With respect, Lord Harkon," Roë merely said, "Fura only acted in my defence, and I hardly think I'm to blame for the murderous lusts of your two advisors."
In rage, he threw his goblet against the nearest column so hard it shattered, splattering the pillar with red. "You heard me, you ingrate. You no longer spend one minute away from my daughter's side. You will guard her life with your own, and even value it over your own. Is that clear?"
She wanted to shout obscenities at him, to transform and claw his face and ball sack off before he burst her apart, but her blood wouldn't let her. "Understood, Lord Harkon."
He flicked his fingers at her. "Tell my daughter to come in here. Then don't say a single word."
Unwilling, she did as she was told, letting Serana inside and stepping back in front of the throne, shutting up like a good girl, though she loathed every moment of it.
"The Moth Priest spoke of another way to read the Elder Scroll you've retrieved," Harkon spoke. "In spite of your bodyguard's recent blunder, this was an impressive achievement, as was getting rid of my perfidious wife, and I have you both to thank for it."
Oh stow it, you hypocrite.
"I think, therefore, that the honour to read the Scroll should go to you. However, we require one more, the Scroll of the Dragon. Once again, it…"
"… falls to us to locate it and bring it back," Serana said in a bored tone, rolling her blazing eyes. Roë loved and hated her at the same time.
"Indeed," Harkon said sourly. "But this entire affair will be over soon, my dear child. Then I promise you, you'll get all the rest you ever need."
Yeah, she'd rest alright, strung up, slashed open and drained dry above a stone basin.
"Good," Serana merely said, not showing that she knew all too well what kind of rest he meant. "Now, this last Scroll? Where do we go this time?"
Harkon ignored her defiant tone. Roë suspected it was something he only did if he needed something. "It sits in the library of the College of Winterhold, not far from here. You can go there and be back tomorrow night, easily." The compulsory tone was unmistakeable.
Serana sighed. "Fine. Here we go again."
"It should be a simple errand, yes? And you've been to the College before, so you're no strangers."
"I'll need some gold to make a donation to the library, like last time," Serana said without much interest.
"Of course," her father said, beaming. "Take all you need from the coffers, and more. Modhna's in charge of security for the time being, but she'll unlock the vault from you without any problem."
"Fine. Off we go then."
Grinning his white teeth bare, Harkon bade them, "Safe travels, both of you. I look forward to seeing you return."
Roë was sure he did.
When they were back outside, Serana asked, "Was my father not too hard on you?"
What do you care? "It was fine."
"Hey, if you want to talk – "
"I don't," Roë cut her off. "Not now. I should go see Fura, tell her I'm sorry. Where are the cells?"
"You know where – "
"Not those. Where the Vampires are held."
"Side room of the armoury. But hey – "
"Not right now, Serana," Roë could only say. She hadn't the strength for this, not now. "Just… give me some space. I'll see you in a bit and then we'll go do whatever it is your kind and caring father wants."
"Alright. Just… know that if – "
Stop it, I don't need your damn pity. "I know. I'll be back in a bit."
As she walked to the armoury, she came by Hestla, who raised her hand at her. "Lady Roë, if you have a moment…?"
"For what?" she said curtly.
"I… the armour you commissioned is almost ready, I'd just need you to try it on so I can make the final adjustments.
"Oh. Quickly then."
She allowed Hestla to strap the heavy suit on her, though she suspected it was only heavy because she was so weak at the moment. Hestla muttered to herself as she measured and indicated the adjustments to be made on the suit. Though heavy, the suit was surprisingly thin and easy to move in, made of metal of the deepest black, sanded to a matte surface. Silver trimmed the breastplate and greaves, and the plates were strapped together with leather she'd never seen before.
Hestla explained about the suit, but Roë didn't really listen, only catching that it was made from a material called 'ebony' ("not the wood"), and that a lot of work went into actually shaping the metal, including obtaining and pulping a Daedra heart, which Roë doubted was true.
"Thank you for your patience, Lady Roë." Hestla undid the straps and took the armour off her, placing it on a strong wooden table for further measuring. "I'll have this done soon."
"Mm."
Ignoring Hestla's puzzled look, Roë proceeded to the cells past the armoury, one of them holding an indignant Fura, who sat on the bench with her arms crossed, her face sulky.
"Feeling better?" Fura asked without much interest when she saw Roë come to stand by the bars.
"Yes, I do." Not really, but that didn't matter right now. "I'm sorry about what Harkon did. He… I don't understand why."
"I don't understand either," Fura said with a shrug, "but that doesn't make it any less of a reality."
"I… suppose. Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for saving me. I… won't forget."
Fura flapped her hand. "That's fine. Just wanted to do the right thing even though it wasn't easy. Look where it got me."
"I know. I feel responsible."
"You are." But with a shrug, she added, "But you're not the one who took my rank away and threw me into a cell, so no hard feelings."
Footsteps came near, and Roë saw it was Lord Harkon, flanked by his dog Modhna. Namasur followed on their heels. Roë expected to get chewed out for leaving Serana's side, but he merely threw her a disapproving glance and motioned for her to stand aside.
He went to stand at the cell door and Fura promptly stood up, out of fear more than respect.
"Have you anything to say for yourself, Bloodmouth?"
Her courage, beaten out of her in Roë's room had returned, and her hands in her side, she said defiantly, "Yes, I do. I've worked for you for decades now. Protected your castle, done everything you asked, even though you never once rewarded me with greater rank or station, just being glad to serve."
"Serving your Lord is your duty and grants you no special rights," Harkon merely said, his voice bored. "It is its own reward."
"… and even when I killed Orthjolf and Vingalmo, I still acted out of loyalty to my Lord," Fura continued unperturbed. "I saved one of his… extended family from being consumed by two of his subordinates who wanted nothing more than to overthrow him, and this is what I get?"
"You murdered two Vampires of significantly higher importance than yours," Harkon parried. "Regardless of the reasons, that's a serious crime."
"So is trying to consume another Vampire in this Castle," Fura pointed out, seemingly already resigned to a terrible fate and decided not to show any emotion.
"Indeed, but justice for this transgression must be pronounced by the Lord of the Castle and none other."
"If I'd run to come and get you – "
"I've heard enough," Harkon interrupted her. "You are hereby condemned to the sun pit," Fura's face fell as she heard it, despair immediately coming over her, "for three years, with exposure of two hours per day."
"L… Lord Harkon," the Vampire stammered, looking both crushed and outraged with the sentence. "The sun pit? For protecting my noble kin? You call this justice? What is this, am I made to pay for all the stress you're going through? I don't deserve this!"
He was unperturbed. "It's only three years. Better Vampires than you in this castle have spent more years in there for far less. When you return, you will resume the function of servant. Modhna will take your place. And it will be quite a few decades more until you can even dream of returning to guardian-at-arms."
Fura stood against the bars, her fingers wrapped around the bars, "Lord Harkon," she shouted. "Not the sun pit! I don't deserve this, this is… completely out of proportion! How have I displeased you so that you'd condemn me to this?"
Roë could imagine what this sun pit was, and why Fura was so terrified of it. And despite her own condition, there was no way she'd let this Vampire burn for two hours per day without at least speaking up.
"Lord Harkon, if I may?"
He let out a grunting, impatient sigh and turned towards her, but kept silent.
"I feel partly responsible – "
"You are."
"… and I would ask you to reconsider."
He shrugged. "Ask all you want, it will make no difference."
She had to do this, no matter who was looking, no matter how shattered she was inside. She lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head. "I will not ask, my Lord. No, I would, as your vassal, implore you to be merciful." The indignity burned her soul, but this was necessary. "Fura only committed her crime out of loyalty to you," and maybe the satisfaction of staking those two disgusting toads, "and punishing your own people for their loyalty would be undeserved."
"She's not being punished for her loyalty," Harkon said back, "but for her terrible judgment. But good effort. Anything else?"
More indignity. He was really making her drain the poisoned chalice all the way to the bottom. "No, Lord, except…" she looked up at him and made her most pleading face, "I would beseech you for a personal boon. For protecting your daughter and helping the prophecy come to pass. I humbly ask for your leniency in this matter. Fura saved my life, I would repay her somehow, and perhaps this will be suitable. But I will need your aid to settle my debt with her."
Harkon looked down at her, his hands in his sides. The whole prison fell silent. Roë dared not turn her eyes to Fura, but she knew the other Vampire would be as tense as she was.
"Very well. Two years in the sun pit, Bloodmouth. And you, Lady Roë, will leave on the mission I gave you immediately, and you will return successfully, or you can join Fura in the pit. And believe me when I say that when she gets out, you will wave goodbye to her knowing your sentence has only begun."
This was a far cry from the charismatic, jovial Lord Harkon she'd gotten to know in the beginning. Serana and Valerica had been right, he was far too obsessed with the prophecy, so much that it made him paranoid, erratic, and punitive.
It only made it more important to stop him. And perhaps, if she helped save Serana, she might change her mind and…
No. No, she wouldn't.
Still, all she could do now was play their game. Harkon's and Serana's. Because perhaps Harkon wasn't the only one manipulating people. It was entirely possible that Serana had hitched Roë in front of her cart hoping to have an ally to eliminate her father with.
Hey, there was a thought. What if Serana and Valerica had planned on this all along? Maybe they already knew Harkon would need all of Serana's blood, and only needed to fulfil the prophecy to build up their strength, to overthrow Harkon? It was possible. And it was obvious what Roë's fate would be once Harkon was well and truly dealt with.
Maybe it was just the rejection and heartbreak speaking. She immediately felt guilty for the thought.
And yet, the doubt gnawed at her. Maybe the only one she could depend on was herself. And if that was the case, she'd need allies of her own.
But for now, she'd play along.
After Lord Harkon had left, followed by his lap dog and slave keeper, she told Fura, "Sorry, that's all I could do," which was answered by a resigned nod. Then she too left the dungeon to find Serana.
They left immediately, rowing across the strait and then hoofing it towards the College. The only thing Roë had said on the entire trip was that it'd be nice to have some horses, to which Serana had replied that animals didn't respond very well to their kind. For the rest, the hike was completely silent. Even Serana didn't talk, bearing a face of pensive gloom, probably not unlike Roë.
Thoughts whirled in her head, speculations about who was playing who in this dirty game, ways she could make sure she didn't end up holding the hot potato when it came down to the wire, all kinds of plans and angles. But mostly, constantly, she pined for Serana and wanted nothing more than to take back what she did, and go back to the nights of hopeful longing she had ended by trying to attain something that had never been in her reach.
The first time Serana spoke was when they reached Winterhold. "Well, here we are. I'm sure they won't mind us visiting again."
Roë kept quiet. Maybe they would mind if they'd realized one of their students had mysteriously gone missing during their previous social call. And surely they would have by now.
"Hey, Roë," Serana said stopping in the middle of the only street the village had. "I need you to help me on this. Are you punishing me?"
No, punishing wasn't what she was doing. Mistrusting was more like it. And feeling ashamed. If she was punishing anyone, it was herself. "No, Serana. I'm not punishing you." But good job making my feelings all about yourself.
"Then let me help. You're my friend, Roë, and it hurts me to see you like this."
What, afraid I'll turn my back on you before you've used me to kick your father in the dick?
"Don't be hurt. This is my problem. I just need to deal with this."
"You know that if you need to, you can talk to me, right? I feel… responsible for this."
Oh, so you just want to alleviate your guilt. Understood.
"I know, Serana."
But if I really think you're taking advantage of me, then why do I love you so much?
"There's still time," Serana said, looking up at the stars. "We can go inside now, and stay in the guest rooms, or we can head to the inn. Whichever you prefer."
"I'd rather not stay there. They might find out there's a student missing and link it to us, remember?"
"Mmm. Yeah. Yeah, that's true. Best not risk – "
The College erupted in a bright blue blast, soundless at first, then with a short but mighty roar, the shockwave knocking both Serana and Roë over with their behinds into the snow, the wind buffeting them in the face.
Chunks of masonry flew past them, one zipping just over Roë's head, and pieces of the thatched roofs of the village houses were ripped off, swirling in the displacement of air.
As the noise subsided, leaves came floating down, twisting in the wind. No, not leaves, pages. Scrolls, book pages, loose sheets, everything.
And as they both regained their senses, they saw other things lying in the snow as well. Not just masonry, destroyed furniture, papers and other College paraphernalia, but bodies too. Most no longer moved, after being flung into the snow, making jagged tracks as they tumbled over the ground before lying still.
"Wh… what just happened?" Serana breathed.
"I don't know. Are you alright?" Roë only realized how hastily and concerned she'd asked the question when it was out.
"I think so. You?"
Roë nodded. "Bones a little rattled."
"That one's still moving," Serana pointed out, getting to her feet. "Maybe he knows what happened."
Roë got her footing back as well, and still somewhat disoriented, she joined Serana in walking towards the still-moving person, dressed in bluish-purple robes. As they came near, Roë noticed the ginger-coloured goatee and ashen skin. This was the mer who'd showed them directions when they were first here. Blood ran over his forehead and down his face, and his robe was torn, red seeping through the tears. He didn't look long for this world.
"What happened here?" Serana asked, kneeling by him.
The mer opened his eyes and croaked, "Eye… of Magnus. The… Thalmor… Ancano… the… the Psijic Order f… failed us." His lips were mashed and he was missing several teeth.
Serana exchanged a glance with Roë, but she didn't know what he was talking about either.
"Should have… been a… a champion… someone to…" he tried to say, but his breath stalled in his throat and the next moment, he was dead.
"Well," Serana said flatly, "S'pose that champion had other things to do tonight."
Yes, very empathic of you, Serana. Though Roë couldn't bring herself to care too much about what had happened here either, or who this supposed champion had been.
It had nothing to do with them anyway.
"So uh, what about the Elder Scroll?" she asked Serana.
"We'll worry about that in a bit," Serana said, her hands in her sides, looking at the destruction. "We should check for survivors first." Other people had left their houses now, woken up in the night, shuffling out with dazed faces, their jaws slack. Three guards came running, bearing torches. One of them, a woman with a nasty scar across her face, asked Roë, "Did you see what happened?"
"No," Roë answered. "We just arrived, and there was a big blue blast, tore the place apart. That's all."
"There may be survivors," Serana reminded them. "Come on."
Winterhold's College lay in ruins, and there was smouldering rubble everywhere. Some buts of it had even flown all the way to the far side of the village, though thankfully, none of the residents were seriously hurt. Most came to help, and the three guards attempted to organize the aid as best as they could, telling the citizens to concentrate on stopping any bleeding, especially of those who didn't make much noise anymore. Those who lay screaming, and there were quite a few, should be ignored for the moment. If they could scream, they could live.
Much of the snow was coloured red now, some bodies torn apart into two or more pieces, and many of the Winterhold citizens had to stop their efforts temporarily or permanently after witnessing the mutilated bodies.
Few people could be saved, most were dead instantly, or would be before the night was over. A mage, a mer with white robes who'd apologized himself for being more a translator than a wizard, had come running from the inn, and now came to help, casting what little healing spells he had at his disposal to stabilize the dying, often to no avail.
Roë walked among the bodies, looking for anyone that could be saved, but finding no one. Occasionally, her gaze drifted to Serana, looking around the same way she was, or kneeling by a dying person, holding the victim's hand for a few last moments of comfort.
An old man with a robe and white beard had been thrown through the air and deposited behind a wall, before breaking his back on it. His abdomen had split open from the impact, and insides bulged out of the cleft in his side. His jaw moved, but he could no longer speak. After briefly checking that no one could see them, Roë kneeled by him, took his hand and said, "I'll make the pain go away."
Then she gave herself to the feeding, feeling the old man's heart beat more slowly, then stop as she ended his life, out of mercy and her own need.
Her need slaked, and uncaring about the consequences of killing during the feed (after all, it had been an act of mercy rather than indulgence, or was that just what she told herself?), she moved on, moving between the bodies of the dead and the wounded, care-givers brushing past her or kneeling nearby. She encountered two more bodies, both very much dead, but the third seemed to have sustained injuries that weren't life-threatening.
"H… help me stand," the woman whispered. "Help m… me first."
"Your wounds aren't fatal," Roë said flatly, standing over her. "There's others who need more help. If you can talk, you can live." Selfish cunt she was.
"You d… don't understand," the woman said, blood matting her brown hair. "… College. I'm the… the Res… toration lecturer."
Right, this woman could help many more people than the rest of them put together. It hadn't been selfishness, at least not entirely.
"I need a healer right now!" she called out, but the guard with the face scar shouted back, "So does everyone else. You'll have to wait, I'm sorry."
"No, I need a healer, right now," Roë insisted. "You, mage, help this woman, she's the Restoration lecturer of the College. If you can get her back on her – "
"Say no more," the mer interrupted her, sprinting towards her even as he left a person to die. He was right to do so, but that didn't make it any more tragic. "Colette, hold on, I'll get you back into working order," he rapped at the woman, kneeling by her and charging a healing spell. He looked pale and tired, and Roë didn't think his healing skills would last much longer before he needed to rest.
White light enveloped the woman and her two broken legs, with cracks and snaps, set themselves back into place. As they did so, and the woman got to her knees with a pained grimace, the mer who'd healed her sagged forward, panting as sweat dripped from his brow.
"You've done enough, Enthir," the Restoration lecturer said, her hand on his shoulder. "Take a moment to rest, then please, no more spells. Help the soldiers with traditional healing. There have been enough victims this night, don't add yourself to them."
Laboriously, the mer nodded his lowered head.
"Can you help me up, child?" the Breton woman asked, holding out her hand, her face pained and moist with sweat. "I'll be fine, but I need some help standing up."
It had been a long time since someone had called her 'child' affectionately. She took the woman's hand, warm and clammy, and helped the woman stand.
"Thank you dear. I must ask, have you seen Savos Aren?"
"I'm sorry, who?"
"The Archmage," the healer said, "Dunmer. Bluish robe, red hair in a goatee?"
Wait, that had been the Archmage? Damn, she never could have guessed. "The… the Archmage? Yes, I've uh, seen him. I'm afraid he didn't survive."
The Breton squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "This is a most tragic loss, indeed. Thank you, child. Now, I must attend to the wounded." She called out, "Guardsmen! Please carry anyone who isn't in direct danger of dying to the hay shed across the road. All of you who are standing near someone who needs urgent care but can be saved, raise your hands."
At least ten citizens, standing by still-moving bodies, raised their hands as the guards began hauling the wounded to the shed. Many screamed at being moved, but the guards set their jaws and did as they were told.
"I'll address these people as fast as I can." She hobbled towards the closest care-giver while instructing two citizens who were hauling a dead man, "Leave the dead where they are, there's nothing you can do for them now."
"We've done all we can," Serana said, coming to stand by Roë. "Whatever happened here, it was something incredibly powerful."
"Mm." Roë looked out at the smouldering remains of the College, reduced to blackened rubble. "Whatever they've been toying with, it was apparently too much for them."
"It's tragic," Serana said, "but we have to get on with our task."
"Serana," Roë said, her tone more condescending than she wanted to allow, "the College just got blasted into ruin. If there was an Elder Scroll in there – "
Serana blew. "Trust me, Roë, Elder Scrolls have survived worse. One reputedly got stomped on by the Numidium, and it still emerged unscathed. The Numidium probably needed a bandage for its foot."
"Nothing survives such a blast," Roë said. Nothing possibly could.
"Some people even survived," Serana said. "Things are hardier than you'd think, especially Elder Scrolls. It doesn't even have a scratch, trust me."
Roë didn't feel like arguing any further, rolling her eyes. "If you say so."
"Roë, hun, stop being so sulky," Serana said, sounding mildly frustrated. "There was a great friendship growing between us, and your feelings will never ruin that, but I need you to show me you still want it."
Of course she wanted Serana's friendship, even though it tore her inside every minute she spent with her, every moment of unfulfilled love. "I need time, Serana. This isn't easy for me."
Serana briefly took her hand, squeezed it, and let go. "I understand. Just… You're making me feel guilty by being so resentful."
Again with the guilt. Was this all that mattered to her? Her own feelings?
"Yeah, sure, just… let me be grouchy for a bit."
"Alright. Now come on, we've got an aeons-old artefact to get our unworthy hands on."
"Mm," Roë said. "A haystack just waiting for us to find its little needle."
Serana smiled. "It'll be easier than you think."
They proceeded into the smoking, blackened ruin of the College, leaping over the gaps in the bridge. Everyone in Winterhold was too busy helping the wounded, and no one noticed them, so much the better.
When they were halfway across, Serana stopped and turned. "Ha-ha. Look, over there."
Back on the shore stood one pine tree, its trunk at least half a metre thick. And in that trunk, there was a smouldering hole, cut neatly through.
Roë shrugged. "Could have been some masonry."
"Nu-uh. Hole's too clean and sharp. Stonework would have splintered the tree." She looked at it for a moment, her head cocked. "Size is right too. Ten to one this is our Scroll not being impressed by the tree in its way."
"Fine. Back to the village we go."
They did, walking back towards the pine tree, Serana estimating the Scroll's trajectory as it had flown clean through the tree. She was right, Roë had to admit, the hole was far too cleanly cut to be anything else than a powerful artefact. Still, the College had probably had a few of those lying around.
They followed the supposed scroll's supposed route through the air and came across a low wall, built with chunks of granite, another hole blown into it. On the other side was a long, deep trench, sheared into the earth for several dozens of metres, its edges smoking. At the end, protruding from the deep cleft, was a wooden handle.
With a precocious smile, Serana said, "See? Here we go."
Roë said nothing and pulled the Elder Scroll free with a few hard jerks. It had been buried almost a metre into the frozen ground. Thankfully, the angle had been extremely sharp, because if not, they probably would have had to dig the thing out, and that would have been miserable, since once it disappeared under the ground, there was no telling how far it had still gone.
She held it out to Serana, who took it and slung it over her shoulder. "Well, this was both easier and harder than expected."
"Imagine if that thing had been blown out to sea rather than back to the shore."
Serana grinned. "Shut up."