Chapter 2: The Five Far Stars
Almerin strode through the main hall of Volkihar Keep, pausing for a moment to survey her surroundings. With satisfaction, she noted that Garan had followed her instructions with his usual precision, removing the cattle from the tables and leaving no traces of spilled blood or dismembered body parts. The tables were now set with two goblets and two decanters at each seat, for the members of her court to partake of alcohol or blood at their discretion.
Harkon had all the subtlety of a lumberjack, Almerin thought to herself, feet sinking into the thick blue rugs that Serana had picked out from Solitude. Any who were permitted to see this hall already knew that they were vampires, rendering red décor a little redundant. Not to mention the fact that staring at red for long periods of time caused her correspondence to appear green, especially now that her eyes had become so sensitive.
Seating herself on her throne, Almerin reached for her alcohol decanter, pouring herself a glass of Daedric Lava Whiskey. The whiskey had been a gift from Janus Hassildor, who had retired to an abandoned wizard's tower when the citizens of Skingrad had become suspicious of his longevity. Almerin closed her eyes while swallowing the whiskey, the paralysis induced by the brew giving her enough time to enjoy its sharp, spicy heat.
"At your service," rasped a voice in front of her. Almerin opened her eyes to the sight of a bowing Dremora Lord.
"Gather my court," Almerin said with a dismissive wave. As the Dremora Lord stalked away, Almerin allowed herself another taste of the whiskey. Within a minute, her court was shepherded in by the Dremora Lord, the vampires standing silently behind their seats at the two long tables in front of her.
"A challenger is near!" warned the Dremora Lord as he faded into Oblivion. Almerin smiled cynically, gesturing for her court to be seated. When are they not trying to challenge me, Almerin thought, observing the political machinations of her court play out before her.
As usual, Vingalmo and Orthjolf were seated closest to the high table, in direct opposition to each other. Their contempt for each other was the reason either still drew breath, as united, they would have constituted a powerful threat. Separately, though, they had their uses, and Almerin nodded at each of them before turning her attention to the other vampires.
Garan sat next to Vingalmo, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the table. The fussy mage was a stickler for propriety, and would never pose a threat to her. Garan would always be content with his position and fiercely supportive of the Lord of the Keep, whomever that may be. Further down, Feran and Ronthil were engaged in a heated discussion about garlic, Ronthil insisting that the Cyrodilic variant could harm some vampires, while Feran adamantly refuted his claim. Next to them, Namasur gulped deep draughts of blood from his goblet, looking uncomfortable at being seated with so many elves.
Orthjolf's prejudices have landed him a poorer alliance, thought Almerin as she turned her gaze to her right. Fura was the only strong vampire to accompany Orthjolf, although her impatience prevented her from attaining true power. She spoke animatedly with Hestla, whose steady strength provided a natural counterbalance to Fura's more fiery personality. At the end of the table, Modhna and Rargal quietly discussed the possibility of stocking the Thrall Pen with skooma addicts, Rargal's grimace making Serana smirk as she entered the hall.
Sitting gracefully at Almerin's right side, Serana spread an assortment of books, maps and papers in front of them. Almerin raised a sardonic eyebrow as she ran her index finger over the Songs of the Return.
"You know, when I asked you to research the Companions, I didn't anticipate that you would limit yourself to my personal library."
"Don't think I don't see you flicking pages in crypts and tossing the books aside when you don't learn a new skill instantaneously," Serana teased. "Unfortunately, these books were dated even before I was locked in that crypt, so I doubt they would be of value to us."
Almerin nodded thoughtfully. "It, however, does make me wonder how long they spent scraping barnacles off their house," Almerin deadpanned, enjoying Serana's sudden chuckle.
Moving the books to her left, Almerin gathered her thoughts and looked towards her court.
To find every unnaturally golden eye trained towards the empty seat to her left.
Not this again.
Valerica had refused to return to court life, choosing to return to her laboratory when she was not busy with Volkihar's gardens. At the time, Almerin had not pressed the issue, aware that Valerica's absence would smooth the transition from Harkon's lordship to her own.
She had completely overlooked the value that tradition held to a group of immortal recluses.
As long as there had been a Lord of the Keep, there had also been a consort, albeit in absentia. Almerin had found herself pressed to select a consort, the vampires of her court eager to rise above their stations. Ever the traditionalist, Garan had waved off her initial complaints, primly assuring her that she would not be expected to "commit to a selection before sampling the spread".
Almerin's smothered laugh at the Garan's incongruous behaviour had been replaced by a thrill of excitement. The thought of further dominating the vampires in her Keep had sent a shock of warmth to her belly, awakening a sudden surge of lust.
The reality had fallen far short of her expectations.
Orthjolf, always first to seize on an opportunity, had been the first to approach the high table, breath laced with the Black Briar Reserve he had required to appear so confident. Alone in her chambers, his excitement had quickly withered under her critical gaze, and he had almost run from her rooms.
Vingalmo, seeking always to learn from and surpass Orthjolf, had been aloof and detached, only to finish in amusing desperation as he became aware of her unfeigned boredom. Feran had been too conventional, awkwardly uncomfortable beneath her. Hestla was a temptation, but her offer had been for both Fura and herself to join Almerin, and Almerin couldn't quite bring herself to bed someone with the name Bloodmouth.
Frustrated, Almerin had stopped allowing supplicants to approach her table. However, it didn't seem to have suppressed their appetite for power, as evidenced by her vampires' attention to the empty seat by her side.
"I tire of the Companions," Almerin announced loudly, her resounding voice startling her court out of their collective daze. "I tire of the Companions, and I declare that the court will now discuss their fate."
Immediately, Vingalmo and Orthjolf jumped to their feet, stumbling over their words in an attempt to be heard first. As always, Serana somehow managed to separate the sounds into coherent sentences as she diligently recorded the opinions discussed in the meeting.
"Let us burn their mead hall as we did the Hall of the Vigilant!"
"Let them serve us as our new thralls!"
Almerin rolled her eyes at the predictability of the two vampires. Vingalmo would love to publicly demonstrate the powers of the vampire mage by setting fire to Jorrvaskr, while simultaneously killing several of the most well-known melee combatants in Skyrim. Orthjolf correctly assumed the inclusion of such a large number of Nord fighters would bolster his position in the court. At least he hadn't suggested that they turn the Companions. Her blood was a gift to be earned, and the suggestion would be a severe insult.
"Impossible," Almerin stated coldly as she gestured at both Vingalmo and Orthjolf to take their seats. "The Jarls will not remain complacent if we burn down a structure within one of their cities," she shot at Vingalmo. "And the Beast blood is too unpredictable for us to enthral all of them, given that we do not know how well they would take to servitude," she directed at Orthjolf. Hestla started a little, before relaxing back into her seat.
Serana scribbled on a piece of paper before passing it across to Almerin.
Former Companion, Serana had written in her elegant script.
"Hestla, stand," ordered Almerin. "Tell me exactly what you planned to withhold from me."
Nervous, Hestla looked to Fura, who vigorously gestured at her to rise.
"When I was part of the Companions, I was too weak to be invited to take the Beast blood," Hestla stated while rising from her seat. "I did, however, often hear the Harbinger speak of a cure, of the possibility that their curse, whatever it was, could be reversible. If this were the case-" Hestla faltered, looking at Fura. Fura reached out and grasped Hestla's hand with a proud smile.
"If this were the case," continued Hestla, "We could safely enthral any werewolf by forcibly curing them first."
Orthjolf smiled triumphantly, causing Fura to exhale in relief.
Almerin tapped her fingers against her lips in consideration. Serana scribbled another note and passed it to her.
Ronthil? read Serana's flowing script.
Confused, Almerin looked at Serana, who was looking at her in a manner that seemed significant, although Almerin could not make sense of Serana's sudden change in topic. Serana leaned towards her.
"You've already made your decision about the Companions. I'm just trying to help you with your second decision," Serana whispered as she glanced meaningfully towards the empty chair at their table.
"Seriously?" Almerin hissed in irritation. Serana smiled innocently – as innocently as a vampire could smile -, before bending her head to her notes once more.
Looking up, Almerin directed her words to Hestla. "Describe each Companion that you remember," she commanded, reaching for a map of Jorrvaskr.
"Kodlak Whitemane was the Harbinger when I was there, I heard that he had been a mercenary of some sort in Hammerfell," began Hestla.
A third note made its way in front of Almerin.
He can't take his eyes off you, Serana taunted.
Almerin glanced towards the young vampire, only to see that he was, indeed, staring at her with adoring eyes. Almerin grasped Serana's quill to scribble on the back of the paper.
He reminds me of Cu'Sith, Almerin wrote in her decisive, bold script. Should I tell him to 'go fetch?' Serana choked a little at that, snatching the quill from Almerin's hand in amusement.
"Vignar would follow Kodlak around, doing whatever he asked. He didn't really care about the Companions, though; he could never forget that he came from a family with wealth and influence".
Almerin's mind wandered, pondering her options. A cure to lycanthropy would likely be well-guarded by Hircine. Only one of Hircine's chosen could fetter out his secrets, which meant that she would have to personally infiltrate the Companions. Almerin sighed, reaching for her decanter of blood. To avoid detection, she wouldn't be able to use her bloodcursed arrows, and would have to drink blood to remain strong.
"Skjor, in hindsight, was definitely a werewolf. I thought he was having a secret affair with Aela, the way they used to disappear at night and return exhausted. She was far too young for him, and I tried to warn her, but she only laughed at me and told me to stay away."
Age shouldn't matter to vampires, Almerin mused, pouring blood into her goblet. She had only seen twenty-two summers before being turned by Harkon, but felt much older than Ronthil, who was old enough to have seen the Nerevarine before she disappeared.
"Farkas and Vilkas were berserkers, but yet to grow into their full strength by the time I left. True Nords, the pair of them, although their dark hair and silver eyes made you wonder whether perhaps they were mongrels."
Almerin's ears pricked up at this. The thief must have been one of these two young men. Although Almerin had always had vague designs on the Companions, she knew that her sudden interest in them was partially due to the galling memory of the werewolf's silver eyes, alight with a ferocious concentration as he had butchered her pelt.
"They were quite popular with the women-"
Almerin held up her hand abruptly, cutting Hestla off. Maybe there was some merit to keeping a consort, Almerin thought, if only for him to listen to this inane prattle on my behalf.
"I have come to my decision," Almerin pronounced, as Hestla sat back down hurriedly. "I shall join the Companions, and discover whether they may be cured. If they can be cured, we shall enthral any who survive the loss of Hircine. If not, then they will meet the fate that comes to all rabid dogs."
Vingalmo and Orthjolf smirked simultaneously, automatically responding to her rousing tone.
"You will continue your usual tasks, reporting to Serana in my absence," Almerin continued, taking a sip of blood from her goblet. "If I am unable to speak to you personally, I will tell Serana what you need to know." Almerin took another sip from the goblet.
"I travel to Whiterun tomorrow," Almerin announced to a sudden rustle of muttering. "Feran, I believe you have located the Rings of Blood Magic?"
"Yes, my Lord," said Feran calmly.
"Good. Orthjolf, Vingalmo, speak with Feran. I expect those rings before I leave."
Orthjolf vaulted over his table in an effort to reach Feran and Vingalmo before they started talking. The other vampires interpreted this as a dismissal, beginning to leave the hall.
"Ronthil," rumbled Almerin, allowing her Voice to enhance the word.
Ronthil turned back to look at her in alarm, eyes as wide as those of a young doe. Serana smirked, stretching her arms behind her head.
"Approach the high table," Almerin instructed. Ronthil started, then loped towards her eagerly.
Almerin looked at him sternly. "You spent the entire court session staring at me in silence," she stated, ignoring Serana's disappointed sigh. "As a member of my court, I expect that you contribute, or at the very least, pay attention, so that you can undertake my commands. Do you understand?"
A flush spread over Ronthil's face as he nodded, face downcast. Serana put her quill down.
"Why were you staring at Lord Almerin?" Serana asked, ignoring Almerin's glare. Ronthil's face lit up as he returned his gaze to Almerin.
"Our Lord looks exactly like the Nerevarine!" he gushed.
"I look like a Dunmer?" Almerin asked, nonplussed.
"No, my Lord, forgive me, I misspoke. I was lucky enough to see the Nerevarine in Ald'ruhn, as you know. She didn't speak to me, of course. But she had the unmistakable presence of a woman with power, with purpose, with destiny. And when she did speak, the world listened."
Almerin's gaze softened as Ronthil squared his shoulders.
"Yet never shall you have your rule over me. Never shall I tremble or flinch from your power.
Never shall I yield my home and hearth," Ronthil recited, his eyes trained to Almerin's. "The Nerevarine spoke these words, and the words were branded into living memory."
Pleased, Almerin allowed a small smile to curve her lips.
"I'm surprised you did not try to speak with her, given how captivating you make her sound."
"Ah- I was there on Berne Clan business," Ronthil stammered.
Almerin leaned forward. "What did they seek in Ald'ruhn?" she asked, always eager to gain more vampiric artefacts.
"No, I…I was just trying to be accepted into Berne Clan. I was there to convince a young child to not become a vampire."
Almerin leaned back, disappointed. "I suppose your skills in Speech served you well in that regard."
"Er…not exactly," Ronthil hedged.
Almerin frowned.
"I let him defeat me in combat," Ronthil said hurriedly, avoiding Almerin's gaze.
Why do we allow him to be a vampire, Almerin thought incredulously. "You are a Volkihar vampire now," she snapped. "The actions of my court reflect my power, and I will have you exhibit some strength."
Ronthil paused before lifting his eyes to meet Almerin's hard stare. "My strength lies in admitting that I am willing to submit," he breathed.
Almerin inhaled sharply.
Speech is highly underrated as a weapon, Almerin thought. Serana's laugh chimed, startling Almerin into the realisation that she had been gazing at Ronthil, completely slack jawed. Almerin rose abruptly.
"Then you may submit to me," Almerin said, striding out of the hall. "Tonight."
-x-
A/N: Thanks for the comments/follows! I have never showed my work to anyone, not even family, so it's so nice to know that my work is interesting/fun for someone other than me. I have individually responded to you guys, but will use this space for any anonymous comments.
Guest: Love Bran and Sceolang, and I've always wished that I could raise them with Cu'Sith and Garmr! In my head, I see the DG huskies splashing about in Lake Inalta while the death hounds prowl about the necromancy stone table near Lakeview.
I love TES lore, especially from Morrowind and Oblivion, so I will be making minor references outside of Skyrim, as you have seen in this chapter. I don't want to clutter the A/N with explanations of the references in case they're not actually needed, but please let me know if they are, and I'm happy to add them in :)