Chapter 6: Vampire's seduction

Almerin halted behind the Gildergreen, huffing an irritated sigh. Vilkas' taut outline was clearly visible, agitatedly pacing at the threshold of Jorrvaskr.

I do not have to deal with this now, she bristled, before turning to Farkas.

"I might actually check if Belethor has anything new for me," she stated smoothly, walking briskly away before the lummox could respond.

Once she was sure she was out of sight, Almerin turned abruptly, weaving past Nazeem and slipping silently into Breezehome.

"You're being watched, Rin."

Almerin wheeled around, expression sharpening as she registered Serana's sentence.

Serana looked questioningly at Almerin. "You didn't notice Namasur and Modhnar near Dustman's Cairn? For that matter, you didn't register me waiting for you here?"

"My nose is full of wet dog," Almerin complained peevishly, dropping into one of the chairs next to the fire and reaching for a pitcher. Serana sniffed, unamused.

"Now's not the time to joke around," Serana snapped, gracefully folding herself into the second chair and accepting the goblet of blood that Almerin handed to her.

Almerin inhaled the sharp aroma of her Lava Whiskey and rubbed her forehead.

"They moved much faster than I expected," Almerin admitted. "I take it that they heard about me saving the old wolf?"

Serana nodded assent. "Whiterun is buzzing with the news of the Healing Companion. And now the Courts' eyes have watched you think about stabbing the attractive one, and clearly change your mind, even though there were no witnesses to prevent you from killing him. What were you thinking, Rin?"

"I - wait, the attractive one?"

Serana smiled grimly. "Just calling it the way it is, Rin. Wouldn't keep me from plunging a dagger in his heart if I needed to."

Almerin snorted. "He has the brains of a goat, Serana. But he is blindly loyal, and would make a worthy addition to our ranks, if he can be turned." And he was telling you about Vilkas, whispered a snide voice in her mind, before she shut it off with an irritated blink.

Almerin sipped her drink, turning to the Dremora Lord.

"My lord?" rasped the Dremora Lord.

"Writing implements."

"At once."

Serana rolled her eyes. "You know you could have just kept the housecarl around, right?"

"She had no idea of the burdens that I carry," replied Almerin, smoothing the parchment on her lap and speaking aloud as she wrote.

"Vampires of Volkihar, I give word of my findings.
- Skjor and Aela will never submit to a cure for lycanthropy, should one exist. Their ends are imminent.
- Some of the younger ones, not yet wolves, are obsessed with fame and honour, and could serve as lower-ranking members of our court. I will consider a competition between them to gain the honour of my Gift.
- The older wolves will soon die without the care of the younger members of the pack. I will not waste my energy on them, they are of no use to us.
- I anticipate that I will learn the way to gain lycanthropy in the next few days, and will not appreciate being interrupted.
- I also anticipate that we can use the werewolves' other enemies to thin the pack before we strike.
- I reiterate that all decisions made in my absence must be approved by Serana, my second in all things.
Lord Almerin."

Almerin handed the parchment to Serana. "Read my pronouncement and nail it to the doors of my chambers."

Serana looked at the message critically.

"It looks like a market list," Serana groused, producing a piece of parchment from her satchel. "Just sign at the bottom of this one, I'll make it prettier."

"What would I do without you, Serana," murmured Almerin absently as she signed the parchment, missing Serana's sudden warm smile.

Almerin rose unsteadily and headed for her room. "I have to sleep, mortal hours are absolutely draining me," she said wryly. "Help yourself to whatever you need if you haven't already."

"Almerin, wait."

Almerin halted on her way up the stairs, looking back at Serana.

"What is to happen to the twins?"

Almerin paused.

"I don't know."

-x-

Vilkas angrily twitched his toe, which had threatened to fall asleep again. After he had watched Almerin creep away from Jorrvaskr, he maintained an overnight vigil where he had remained standing, determined to catch her when she returned. As if anyone as striking as her could possibly be stealthy, he thought to himself scathingly.

Rubbing his not-cold forearm, Vilkas's brow furrowed. Almerin had not returned to Jorrvaskr, and some well-placed coin had encouraged a guard to confirm that she had not left Whiterun. A quick sweep of the Bannered Mare had also proved fruitless. Where had the blasted woman disappeared to all night?

As if the thought were a Conjuration spell, Almerin cleared her throat in front of him.

"Still here, Vilkas?" she asked pointedly.

"We've been awaiting your return, Almerin," he responded, feeling a thrill run down his throat as her name passed his lips for the first time. Turning around, he thought of the nights that his dream-self had breathed her name in lust, waking in torment at his own depravity. Lost in thought, Vilkas realised that Almerin was waiting for him impatiently.

"Come, follow me," he said curtly, wincing at his abruptness.

Glancing sideways at Almerin, Vilkas was unsurprised to catch the end of her eye-roll before she joined the rest of the Circle behind Jorrvaskr.

She thinks you're weak. Show her that you can take her.

Vilkas shook his head, disgusted at Hircine's intrusion into his waking life. But a little part of you wonders if it's actually just you. A hunter by birth, not by Curse. Vilkas grimaced at the thought, then looked up hurriedly, feeling his brother's disapproving gaze.

Farkas scowled at Vilkas, before booming in an extra loud voice.

"I stand witness to the courage of the soul before us," he said, looking directly at Vilkas. Vilkas struggled intensely to repress his own eye roll. Subtlety will never be a language for Farkas, he thought irritatedly, plastering a smile on his face as Hircine's words were superimposed over Farkas' own.

"I would stand at her back that the world might never overtake us."

I would watch her back, waiting for a chance to overpower her.

"It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes."

It stands ready to spill her blood, that I may gorge on her flesh.

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall revelled in her stories."

I would make her scream for me, revelling in her pleasure as I take my own.

Vilkas gasped silently, mind aflame with desire. Sensing his Shield-siblings concluding the ceremony, his tongue provided the required words of its own accord.

"It shall be so."

-x-

Almerin stood patiently in the cool darkness of the Underforge, running through the information that she had gleaned from Farkas. Who, in his own meagre words, had drunk some blood, screamed at the pain, raced out of the Underforge in werewolf form, and reappeared naked. Almerin suppressed a sigh, hoping that the simple wolf hadn't left anything out.

Skjor stopped speaking abruptly, slicing through Aela's forelimb and filling the basin with blood. Curbing a grimace, Almerin dipped her head to the fountain, long hair falling across her face. Now or never, she thought to herself as she took a sip of the pungent blood, forcing it into the small pocket of space at the back of her throat. She closed her mouth, allowing the blood to nestle against the small piece of silver she had secreted in her throat.

Skjor and Aela watched eagerly as Almerin clutched her throat, pretending to be in immense pain.

"WULD," she roared, tearing out of the Underforge. Looking up, Almerin couldn't resist a howl at Masser and Secunda, smirking at the irritated chatter from the Whiterun guards.

Vaulting over the Whiterun walls, Almerin sped across the plains until she found a thicket in which she could secrete herself. Almerin crouched behind a tree, violently choking up the blood and silver that she had secreted in her throat. Throat burning, Almerin forced two fingers into her mouth, forcibly expelling any remnants of the wolf blood.

Taking out a square of silk, Almerin wiped at her mouth in distaste. From her vantage point, she watched Aela and Skjor race out of the Underforge, following her scent. ZUL MEY GUT, she whispered, chuckling to herself as Aela and Skjor bounded in opposite directions.

Skjor is the more dangerous, Almerin decided, tossing aside the sodden rag and giving chase to the wolf.

Crisp autumnal leaves gave way to crunching snow beneath her feet as Almerin raced across the land, Whirlwhind Sprint giving her the edge she needed to catch the werewolf, pinning him to Shearpoint's Wall. A fitting place for my Voice to be Thrown, she thought in amusement, pinning the dog until he was forced to change back into a human.

Skjor spat in her face.

Almerin tsked.

"What are you," Skjor sputtered, eyes wild with fear.

"Domination," Almerin snarled, baring her fangs.

"Vilkas was right about you, you bitch. Don't think the Circle won't avenge my death."

"Hope they don't get the wrong target," sneered Almerin, reaching within her blood for Vampire's Seduction. Tendrils of command extended from her spirit, tethering themselves to Skjor's will.

Skjor went lax in Almerin's arms.

Better than Lava Whiskey, Almerin thought in ecstasy, savouring Skjor's look of adoration.

"Mistress, how may I serve you," Skjor breathed.

Almerin lifted his chin with her fingers, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

"We were to have my first hunt tonight, were we not?"

"Yes Mistress," Skjor babbled, tripping over his words in haste. "Hunting the Silver Hand in Gallows Rock."

"Good," Almerin purred. "You will go to Gallows Rock and surrender yourself willingly to the Silver Hand. You shall not fight them."

Skjor smiled beatifically.

"As you command."

-x-

A/N: It never ceases to amaze me, how much people can store in their pharyngeal potential spaces. This chapter, I thought of how funny it is that NPCs will wait for you if it is quest directed, even through a freezing night. Thanks for the PMs/favourite, I love knowing that other people are reading :)