Eight hours ago...
Garan entered Harkon's private chambers. The moans from the cage drew his attention for a second. He glanced at the blood starved vampire and shook his head. He continued to the man seated in the throne in front of the fire place. "My Lord, an entourage bearing your message has arrived from Cyrodiil to see you."
Harkon looked up from the ancient tome he was reading. He stood slowly with a vicious smile. At last...
He smoothed down his light blue vest. "I will be there shortly, Garan. Extend our hospitality to them."
The vampire bowed and left quietly.
He had been waiting almost a year for their response. Now they had arrived and he didn't want to seem too eager. It was against his nature to allow such frivolous tendencies to show themselves to his guests. Especially, guests like these.
Harkon hated the Order, but his search had come to another dead end. Their short sightedness would be rectified soon enough.
Once I have Serana in chains, I will know the truth…
He put the old book down and walked to his dresser and looked in the mirror as he prepared himself.
He thought about his daughter, wondering if his trackers had made any head way finding her. He smiled thinking about it. His trackers were the best and personally selected by him for their talents. If Serana was still in Tamriel, they'd find her. Harkon himself had changed them when he discovered their gifts, one hundred and fifty years ago.
Alecto and her twin brother Amphilochus were ruthless in their pursuit. The ruthless smiling face that stared back at him, showed his pride. By blood, they were Bosmer crossed with Nibeneans from Cyrodiil. They cared nothing for court politics which made them perfect for his purpose. They were unwaveringly loyal to him since their transformation.
Sounds from the corner of his study interrupted his thoughts. "You have failed me, Salonia. We shall continue our discussion soon enough. First, I have business to attend to."
The starving vampire stared at him, but said nothing.
Harkon turned back to his mirror and his preparations with a cruel smile. His mind drifted back to the vampires. His prized pair were truly gifted in their arts.
They had survived his bite, though at first he'd been doubtful. The smile he wore broadened. They had been weak vampires, no more than fodder delivering his gift. But now, they were his. He suspected the Order had begrudged him for taking them, but he didn't care.
Garan sighed, walking back into the main hall. He wasn't expecting anything to come good from the three men that stood waiting. He maneuvered himself to the staircase and walked down.
"Lord Harkon will be arriving shortly. Is there anything I may accommodate you with?"
The young vampire bowed. "I thank you Master Garan, but we are under instruction to only deliver the message. Then we must return immediately to Cyrodiil."
Garan nodded at the young vampire and retired to his corner. His apprehension was building as others began to file into the main hall for their evening meal.
He stood silent appraising the newcomers. Their deep purple cloaks and fine clothing showed their rank within their Order. All three were Colovians, descendants from Nordic ancestors. They were from Skingrad by their looks and crest on the front of their doublets.
Garan sighed watching Vigalmo size them up. Turning he watched the others do the same. The three men in the hall returned paid no mind to any of them. Each looking rather bored.
The others sat watching the three men stand motionless in the center of the hall waiting for the Lord of the castle. Two of the men stood behind the young man who started tapping his foot impatiently.
Garan could sense Harkon's approach and turned to watch the stairs.
The main hall fell silent as the master of the castle entered. The young man stopped tapping his foot and bowed gracefully. The two men behind him following suit.
"My Lord Harkon, I presume?" The young vampire said still bowing.
"I am Harkon, and with whom, do I have the pleasure of entertaining in my hall?" Harkon's voice held a hint of menace.
"I am Lord Jayred of Skingrad. Behind me are Velfred…" he gestured to the man on his left. "…and Algot." He motioned to the man on his right.
"They are my attendants on this journey. I come with a message from the Count of Skingrad, a member of the Council of the Order." He opened his satchel and held out the scroll to Harkon.
Harkon took the scroll noting every pair of eyes in the hall was watching him.
Harkon, Lord of Clan Volkihar~
Your Providence seeks its independence from the Empire. With war, comes attention from the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire itself. Your actions have brought unnecessary and unwanted attention to our kind.
The attacks of your clan upon the mortals of your Providence have been felt all the way through the Empire. We know of your search for this Prophesy, however, we beseech you to end it. This is not our way, nor do your actions reflect the principles to which we subscribe.
If you harm or delay Lord Jayred and his entourage, we shall consider this an act of war. End this lunacy or we shall. Our patience is at an end.
~Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad, Grandmaster of the Order
Slowly, Harkon lifted his eyes from the scroll he crushed in his hand. "Your Order holds no stake in my Providence!" He hissed with venom.
Jayred bowed again, "Perhaps, my Lord. However the Order has made its decision. I am but a humble messenger sent to deliver their message."
Harkon moved quickly catching the vampire by his doublet and lifting him from the ground. "Go back to Cyrodiil and tell Count Hassildor I care nothing for his Order."
Harkon threw the vampire into the stairs. "Now, get out of my castle!"
Six hours ago…
Idgrod the Younger woke with a start from her nightmare. She was sweating and still feverish. Her lack of sleep was taking a toll on her, but she didn't care. She got up and started pacing her room.
Her thoughts drifted back to the details of the nightmare. The giant grey monster had haunted her dreams for the last week. Even now, she could see the details of the creature's form and feel the power it extruded. The pure evil it radiated chilled her to the bone and frightened her beyond anything she had ever seen before.
The creature was one she had never seen before other than her nightmares. The ancient temple it lived in was black and cold. Blood dripped from the walls and oozed from the stones themselves. Its laughter was hateful as it echoed through her mind.
Idgrod shivered and pulled the fur blanket from her bed, wrapping it around herself. She continued wearing a path to nowhere on her bedroom floor. Her thoughts drifting as the nightmare replayed in her mind for the hundredth time this week.
Each time was always the same.
Azriel and a black haired woman locked in battle with the creature. Azriel captured and bleeding at the foot of an old alter. Then, Azriel was dead.
She looked down at her shaking hands. Her thoughts swirled as she replayed the memory of the dream. It looped endlessly in her mind like self-induced torture.
Azriel's path has changed to this. It is the only explanation...
Her thoughts were driving her insane. She walked to the old wash basin and rinsed her face. The icy water shocked her back into reality.
Azriel dead.
She heard herself whimper with the thought. She felt the dull ache in her side from Azriel's future wound.
She didn't care about her Mother's advice. She wanted to protect Azriel, save her if she could. What good were her visions if she couldn't try and help somehow?
Idgrod pulled back her chair and sat down. She pulled paper from her desk and her writing instruments. But, what to write?
She stared at the blank parchment, willing the words to appear on it.
The black haired woman was key to this. She was key to everything, including saving Azriel.
She thought about the woman… vampire, she corrected herself. The vampire was made by the purest evil. Everything about her screamed it. The words from the dream jarred her… The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour.
Instantly she focused on the woman's appearance. The woman's eyes were like fire, but held only the coldest of gazes. Her skin was as white as snow. Her hair was the color of the blackest obsidian. The woman was beautiful on the outside, but something terrible lived underneath her beauty.
Idgrod's skin crawled as she thought about the woman. Azriel had said her name, then she had screamed it. Serana
Azriel had defended her with her life...
She felt the tears burn as they slowly rolled down her face.
Her thoughts whirled. Azriel bleeding. Her side torn out, dying at the foot of an alter made of stone and blood. The alter of the Daedric Prince, Molag Bal.
Each vivid image burned into her mind. Each step they took brought them closer to the outcome.
Idgrod's head was in her hands, she couldn't stop crying in her frustration. Her entire body shook with grief. She needed to change it, to change the path. But, how?
She wiped her eyes and looked at the paper.
The whiteness of it shown in the candle light, taunting her.
Idgrod picked up her quill and dunked it into the ink. Write something! Anything!
She stared at the paper for a long while. Finally, her hand moved of its own free will.
Azriel ~
Come to Morthal. I need to see you. Please, hurry.
~ Idgrod the Younger
She looked at it. Simple is good…
She scrawled it out several times, each time more frantic than the last. She sealed each with the symbol of her house. When she was finished she stood and dressed.
I need to wake the couriers…
Four hours ago…
The Black Door opened for the second time that night.
"Sister! You're home!" Babette hugged the Dunmer mage.
Gabriella smiled down at her and knelt to hug her. "And I'm very happy to be home. I've missed being here."
Babette was quiet for a moment. "Well, um…You might not be so happy when you see Astrid. She's a bit pissed off."
Gabriella sighed. "Does it have anything to do with the Legion being out our front door?"
Babette giggled. "Yes and no. It seems our Sister Azriel has… performed a contract without Astrid's approval. And she'd left black hand print's across half of Skyrim in her wake of destruction."
Gabriella sighed. If anyone could piss someone off, it was Azriel.
"Where's Astrid now?"
Babette smiled. "She's in the back room breaking things."
Gabriella took a deep breath. Astrid is really pissed.
"Even Arnbjorn hasn't gone back there for the last hour." Babette said teasingly.
Gabriella rubbed her head. "Is that why you're smiling at me?"
Babette fluttered her eyelashes innocently at her. "Whatever do you mean?"
"You think I'm going to walk back there and talk to her?"
"Well, someone has too." Babette laughed.
Gabriella stood. "Fine. But, that doesn't mean I'm going to like it."
Babette giggled harder.
Gabriella walked throughout the large rooms. The closer she got, the more she could hear the ruckus. She followed the sounds of cursing and breaking emanating from the room farthest in back.
Azriel had really pissed off Astrid.
"How dare she?!" Astrid yelled smashing another plate.
Gabriella cleared her throat from the door.
Astrid spun, glaring at the doorway. "What?! Oh, Gabriella…"
"I see that Zee has managed to piss even you off." She answered quietly with a smile. "Babette tells me she fulfilled a contract without your permission? And mentioned something about leaving Black Hand prints all over Skyrim?"
Astrid smashed the plate she was holding and yelled.
"I'll take that as a yes." Gabriella said softly trying to not laugh.
Astrid being this angry with Azriel wasn't so much as amusing as it was unusual. The two constantly flirted, so seeing Astrid angry at her was odd. Gabriella had never seen Astrid so angry she broke things. Usually she just killed someone and got it out of her system.
"Who does she think she is?" Astrid yelled grabbing another plate.
Gabriella walked over, gently took the plate from Astrid and pulled woman in her arms. "Well, to be perfectly honest, my dear. She reminds me of you…"
"The fuck she does!" Astrid yelled again.
Gabriella sighed. "Oh please, woman. You are unbelievably alike and you know it. Even the way you two flirt is similar."
The comment caught Astrid off-guard. "We do not flirt."
"Oh yes you do. Admit it. You love riling up that husband of yours by flirting with the young and impetuous werewolf. He hates it and we've all seen you do it. I've even heard you tell Babette if you weren't married and ten years younger you'd have her chained to your bed." Gabriella laughed hard.
"That doesn't change the fact I want to kill her right now." Astrid growled.
Gabriella shrugged. "Maybe not, but you're not denying it, are you? Besides, you knew what she was like when you invited her to join us."
Astrid snatched the plate back and smashed it against the wall with a yell.
"Sister, please. Why don't we have a drink and calm you nerves…"
Astrid glared at her as she walked through the wreckage and pulled at bottle of wine from the shelf and two goblets down. Gabriella popped the top from the wine and poured it into the cups.
"Drink this. I promise it will help." She said with a smile.
Astrid grabbed the goblet and drained it.
"So, who did she kill?" Gabriella said over the rim as Astrid poured herself another.
Astrid growled. "A Priest of Akatosh."
Gabriella took a long sip, thinking. "Alright, and did we get any gold from it?"
"Yes." Astrid's answer was curt.
Gabriella allowed herself a smile. "So the problem is… what exactly?"
Astrid glared at her. "The problem, Gabriella, is she didn't wait for me to tell her to fulfill the contract. She just does whatever she likes."
Gabriella refilled their glasses. "You didn't kill her for fulfilling the Aretino contract. Perhaps, she had her reasons for this?"
Astrid rolled her eyes. "Sapphire arrived earlier. She said that the Priest had refused to help that High Elf, Niranye. Azriel wanted to send his soul to the Void."
Gabriella nodded in understanding. "She and Niranye are friends. I believe she'd want to send a message…"
"I don't care! Contracts are fulfilled because I say so!" Astrid slammed her goblet onto the table, rattling the stack of old plates.
"Astrid, you know how protective she is of her friends. The Stormcloaks have ensured that all of Skyrim knows they want her dead. She is sending them a message. In turn, she's built the Brotherhood into an untouchable force to be reckoned with. You should be pleased… Since you brought her into the fold, business and our reputation has increased. We're no longer starving and in hiding. It was your… understanding of her… that made all this possible."
Astrid growled again, she didn't care that Gabriella was right. She was determined to stay angry.
"I know that look." Gabriella said after another sip.
"She left a trail of bodies. Some were emaciated and Babette has seen a few of them out on patrol. They were drained by a vampire. Azriel has left a trail of Stormcloak bodies and Black Hand prints all the way from the Rift."
"Ah yes, that would be Serana. Babette told me about the bodies as well." Gabriella motioned for Astrid to sit.
"Azriel is now traveling with a very powerful vampire. Well, more like courting her…" Gabriella smirked. "…even if she doesn't admit to it. When they left they were very protective of one another and their relationship was beginning to blossom. I can tell they will be inseparable, even with their own hang ups."
Astrid rubbed her eyes, mulling over everything. "Your visions tell you that?"
Gabriella chuckled. "No. My eyes and ears did. They'll be mates soon enough, if they aren't already."
Astrid smiled with an evil thought. "And Aela?"
Gabriella smiled slowly. "Well… let's just say… that will be an interesting twist."
"I know that look." Astrid said finally smiling.
Gabriella smiled at her in return.
Astrid sighed. She couldn't remain angry at Azriel if she tried. Gabriella was right, the young werewolf was her prodigy and she wouldn't kill her. Chain her up, maybe. The powerful vampire was an interesting twist she wasn't expecting. Then again, Azriel was attracted to power.
"There's something else." Astrid pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to Gabriella as she took a drink. "This letter arrived from Cheydinhal. It seems our brethren have all but disappeared there. This Cicero person is coming here and he is bringing the Night Mother."
Gabriella spit out her wine.
Two hours ago...
The vampire stared hard at the man trembling on the rack. "I will only ask once more, where did Lady Serana and the Dragonborn go?"
"Go fuck yourself, Leech." The Redguard's face was contorted with pain.
"Tighten it some more. Perhaps that will loosen his tongue along with his limbs."
The vampire looked down at him as he screamed. "You don't favor your own techniques? But, you have kept so many trophies of your kills. I would think that you and your impressive Dawnguard would enjoy the torture you impose on my kin."
The vampire held up a single finger, twirling it slowly in the air. The female vampire laughed as she cranked the restraints tighter.
"I will make this easy on you, Isran. Tell me what I wish to know and I will kill you quickly. If you don't, I will ensure the remaining men and women under you will die long and painful deaths. You personally will live long enough to enjoy their screams and regret them. Your death, I can guarantee will not come for a very long time."
The binds tighten once more and Isran screamed.
"Now tell, me everything you know." The elven vampire purred.
Thirty minutes ago...
Aela sat quietly eating and turned to watch Arngeir poured himself some tea. She returned to stare out the window once more, her thoughts drifting. The sun was just beginning to color the sky.
"Would you care for more tea, Lady Aela?" He asked quietly.
She looked at him. "No, thank you."
He nodded, setting the pot down and starting his breakfast quietly.
She chewed slowly trying to remember how many days it had been since she left Jorrvaskr. It seemed like ages since she'd been home. She missed the commotion of the mead hall, she missed her shield-siblings. The tangy smells and rambunctiousness of the ancient hall were so different than the quiet serenity of High Hrothgar. She could understand why Azriel love the place. It was so very different from her daily life, she knew it gave Azriel a sense of peace that she never had anywhere else.
Aela sighed, she really missed Azriel. The Harbinger haunted her thoughts nightly as she lay in her bed and every night she needed a cold bath. Aela set the bread down on her plate picking up her tea.
The baths weren't helping her in the slightest.
Azriel still hadn't returned, but the dragon she left with and the one she had search for, had already come and gone. Aela rubbed her cheek thinking about the dark skinned Imperial. Her thoughts instantly descended, thinking about the woman and she shifted uncomfortably on the stone chair.
The more she thought about Azriel, the wetter she got. This happens every fucking time...
She needed another bath, but she didn't have time. She tried to clean up her thoughts and found that it was a wasted effort. She wanted to rip the woman's clothing off the next time she saw her and decided nothing was going to stop her. She smiled at the thought.
Aela looked at the table with the four hooded men, then to the next table of students, who were equally silent. Since she had started taking lessons from Paarthurnax, the students had silently exiled her. She didn't care, she was already years ahead of them, because of the dragon's tutelage.
Aela shifted again thinking about slipping off for some private time before the journey to the summit. Arngeir had just started his breakfast, so he'd be a little while yet.
Thunder cracked in the distance drawing Aela's attention outside. She turned back to her table and each the Grey Beards were staring at the window as well. Lightning flashed as the wind howled outside, the storm had picked up rapidly.
Aela turned back to her breakfast, but she wasn't hungry. lightning struck the side of the mountain and Aela got up and walked to the window, looking out. A blizzard was raging outside.
A blizzard with lightning?
She looked back at the table and the four silent men stared at their now untouched food. Aela wiped the window to watch the storm better. She stood wordlessly at the window, the storm was furious.
It was snowing so hard she couldn't see the courtyard through the white and the darkness. In twenty six winters, she had never seen a storm this bad.
"Are storms always this bad?" Aela asked quietly.
No one answered her.
She stood at the window, watching the insanity outside for a several minutes. The longer she watched, the more outrageous it became. Time seemed to tick by slowly in with the fury of the storm.
Lightning struck the courtyard.
The only light left came from the incredible amount of lightning reflecting off the snow.
Aela was amazed by it.
The wolf inside of her howled in warning. Pacing rapidly in her mind. Her heartbeat quickened. The sign of impending danger.
Lightning struck High Hrothgar and the ground rumbled below her feet. But, the rumble increased to a tremor shaking the walls of the ancient stone building.
Plates rattled and books fell from the shelves. Aela looked at the floor trying to understand how lightning could last so long. That doesn't make sense.
Then she realized what was happening. Earthquake!
The tremor increased in its violence. The walls of the building swayed and the roof rolled. The entire mountain was shaking. Through the commotion and the frantic cries of the students, she heard the most terrible sound. The wave of the roar that filled the air shattered the windows and glass blew everywhere.
Aela shielded herself with her hands, protecting her face.
The sound and the quake lasted only a few seconds, but seemed longer to her. She turned checking on the people behind her. She saw the Grey Beards helping the students their feet.
"Is everyone alright?" She asked worriedly.
Arngeir looked up at her. "Lady Aela, gather your things and meet me back here. Please, hurry."
Aela nodded and sprinted off to her room.
The walk up to the summit took twice as long with the bad weather. Arngeir tried clearing the sky multiple times, but the effect didn't last long.
The snow storm had decreased after the earthquake, yet it was still rather rough. Aela had tried to talk to Arngeir on their climb, but he had asked her to be patient.
As they reached the summit, Aela saw the dragons soaring in the sky. Their cries filled the air. Only one dragon remained on the ground, sitting on the old wall. Paarthurnax sat waiting, his head hung low.
They made their way to him and the old dragon lifted into the air and dropped to the ground.
"Drem. Yol. Lok. Young ones." His voice sounded sad to Aela.
They returned his greeting.
Paarthurnax looked at Arngeir. "It has begun." He said simply.
Arngeir nodded and sighed. He looked at Aela and spoke softly. "Lady Aela, I bid you good luck."
"Good luck for what?" She was confused.
"Your future endeavors. We will be parting ways for a time." He bowed to her and turned to leave.
"Young one..." Paarthurnax drew her attention once more. "...do you understand what has occurred?"
"Do you mean the earthquake?"
Paarthurnax chuckled. "Yes. You would only know it as an earthquake."
The dragon stretched its wing and sheltered her. "But, it was not."
She looked at the dragon. "Then what was it?"
The dragon sighed. "Ahziial has lost her way."
Aela's eyes grew wide. "Azriel caused an earthquake?"
"Geh."
"How the fuck did she do that?"
The dragon exhaled a long breath. "Odahviing has left Mundus."
For a moment, both were silent.
"Which means what exactly?" Aela didn't like the direction of her thoughts.
"Odahviing dilon." Paarthurnax answered.
Aela inhaled sharply. "How is that possible? How can Odahviing be dead?"
The dragon looked at her, observing her concern. "I sense it has been done at the hands of the Blades. Their leaders feel the righteousness of their act and have been hunting the Dov. Ahziial sought to prevent this."
The dragon lowered his head to her and inhaled deeply. "You must return to Ahziial. Her path has changed yet, it is no longer clear to me. I fear she will seek her own destruction for revenge. She has become more chaotic than I have thought possible. There was a time her future was clear, now it is in fog."
He turned his head to observe her. "She is lost in her own darkness. Each turn brings her closer to becoming like someone else."
Aela started to pace. "I'm not sure what you mean. What is she becoming?"
"All Dov feel the same urges. We seek to dominate and enslave. Truth is found through our magic and strength. We are all susceptible to it as we are to the depth of sorrow. Ahziial's melancholy has deepened. She has lost her hope in the joor with all that she has faced in her few years. The Blades' sense of rightness has undone her. You must be a beacon in her darkness. You must return to her. You must show her the Way. It will strengthen the both of you."
Aela stared at Paarthurnax. "How are you confident that I can do that for her?"
The dragon sighed. "Because of your bond, young one. The link you share…" He turned his golden eye to observe her closely. "…is the love you have for one another. Do not doubt yourself, Aela."
Aela stared at the dragon, blushing. She'd never told anyone how she felt for the Dragonborn, but neither had she hidden it.
"I shall teach you one last thing before you leave. It will allow you to come and go freely from my strunmah."
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