Chapter 1: Dusk
Chapter Text
The world was grey and silent.
The world was grey and cold.
The world was dark.
Dying.
Gore-drowned cobblestones chilled beneath her; the blood on her face dried. Her screams had fallen to hushed half-growls, her throat having given out long ago.
Serana pulled back only to lunge at the mangled neck in her grasp, sinking her fangs into the soft smooth skin again, yet it was no use. A vampire's bite was said to bring mortality from the brink, a second chance at life, even if it came in the form of a shambling bloodthirsty creature of the night.
Malenia never stirred, never moved.
Her ocean-blue eyes were drawn to something in the beyond, endlessly staring.
Serana held on tighter. She tried, she tried, the gashes on her face souring, her mouth twisting and opening and shushing and pleading, in vain attempt to quiet the silent corpse in her arms.
It was not meant to happen.
Lord Harkon's butchered remains lay only a short distance nearby. He had been slain, the prophecy had been put to an end… and for what?
"Mal…" Whether she had said or only thought the loving name, Serana could not say. She dug her face into the other woman's chest, straining to hear for any sign at all. "Mal." No familiar remarks met her, no grimaces nor scoffs and curses. It was not real. Malenia was not dead—
It was me.
The Dawnguard, the Vigilants of Stendarr, Malenia… they had all joined her in ending the vampire threat, they had listened, and Malenia had paid that price. Serana had failed to protect her. Grief poured in tumultuous waves, torching until she could only lay there, sobbing, whispering. Her touch twitched, drifting across toned yet slender arms, moving to caress the face of the fallen woman.
How lovely Malenia's smiles had been, even when reluctant. How Serana longed to gaze deep into those eyes again.
This was a dream.
This was a nightmare.
Malenia would wake soon — the bites would have their effect, or perhaps her wounds were not too great, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…
Pale hands eased onto the redhead's stomach and drew them bloodied. The blood that she had craved and desired for so very long was now right there, pouring unceasing, and Serana wished more than anything to make it stop.
A soft perpetual wheezing reached her ears. It was the sound of choking, as if someone were slowly drowning.
The sound belonged to her.
Her own heart, once vibrant and thundering only a short while ago, had died to its uneven beats, sapped of all its vigour. The faint thuds of footfalls could be heard in the hallways outside. The hallways, she thought, before we entered the chapel. More vampires? Those last few honouring their vanquished lord's commands?
She didn't care. Her grip on Malenia's shoulders only tightened, clinging, hoping—
The doors were shoved open. Garan Marethi sauntered in, his expression one of feigned grief. "My lady," he started with a bow. "I see it is done. Lord Harkon is slain; the castle is ours."
Ours.
Ours.
Castle Volkihar, all of its long, half-remembered memories, her very home, now meant nothing. A tall pile of stones was nothing. Serana glanced at the Dunmeri vampire, briefly, before her red-rimmed gaze drifted back to the woman in her arms. He can have the castle. Meekly, she planted the touch of her lips to Malenia's forehead, wishing to be felt. He can have it all. I only need her.
Garan's stare followed Serana's own. "You would attempt to enthrall her?" He nodded to himself, the answer already clear before it was ever said. "Or to turn her into one of us… there may yet be time. To have this so-called Dragonborn bound to your will…"
"No." She choked out the lone word with effort. "No."
Malenia was not a thrall, she was not bound to anything or anyone. She had been the mortal who stayed by her side when no-one else had bothered, the one who cared beyond the vanity of the princess and the vampire, who was there solely for her.
"Or it may well be too late," Garan went on, his tone unbearably detached. "A shame. I do hate to waste good cattle."
Serana turned.
She strained her weary muscles; red-rimmed eyes flared; rage simmered. It was all that she could do to hold herself from lunging at the other vampire.
Yet what good would that do?
Without Malenia here, with her gone… Serana's life had ended alongside her. None of it mattered any longer, not Garan's taunts nor this supposed victory of theirs, nothing, nothing, nothing…
Garan Marethi seemed to know it too. "Is that it?" He cackled softly. "To have gone so far, only to falter over the death of a mortal." The word was spat as if in cursing. "Compose yourself, my lady, and rejoice! A new dusk comes for us all, and you deserve your place amidst it."
The Dunmer waved his hands in a flourish, and then he was gone, leaving the chapel doors ajar in his departure.
Alone again. Serana lay on the cold stone, shushing, murmuring gently. "Mal," she was saying, "Mal…?"
After a moment's hesitation, she shifted the redhead's face out of place, revealing her long neck, and plunged her fangs again. The rush of blood was euphoric — at first. Whereas once it may have tasted sweet and draconic, now it had a certain dullness to it, its power dwindled.
Serana summoned the will to scream again.
The hours passed slowly, sequestered in silence save for her own muted sobs. She felt a resounding coldness in her chest, hollow and aching. The strange grasp of an iron fist to her senses.
She shivered.
She was freezing.
Without the mortal's warmth, what she had grown accustomed to over these past months together, had been ripped away from her. Serana could not bear it. Dawnbreaker was still there, as was Auriel's Bow. Garan had not bothered to make away with the artifacts, and why would he? Harkon was dead, the prophecy ended, and the golden weapons merely a relic of the past. Bleakly, the vampire reached a trembling hand outward, her fingers curling around the scorching hilt of Dawnbreaker.
She stared at the sword, letting its gleam blind her, devour her, then allowed her red-rimmed gaze to drift down to her own chest.
If this was victory, then she would gladly damn herself to loss.
A rush of pain drowned her. The world went dark.
A deafening rush of thunder; screams and begs amidst crumbling frail waves. A blazing flame swallowing the landscape. A thousand hands in the darkness, pulling and grasping and tearing her in every direction. Pulling her down into the rising sea of blackness.
Serana writhed, gasping for air that did not exist. "No. No!"
Not a sound, not a sight. She couldn't breathe.
"You cannot outrun your nature."
"This is what you are."
"This is what you've done."
The shadows crept forward, the grip winding around her arms and pulling her ever deeper.
Her scream tore from her throat as her body shuddered into consciousness. Her heart was caught in her throat, choking her with each frantic beat of it. Sweat was building cold and slick on her pallid skin, and in the daze of sleep, she struggled against the bony-stiff embrace holding her.
She opened her eyes, blinking back the dark. The familiar sight was still there. Malenia's form on the cold stone, silent and unmoving.
Castle Volkihar was rife with noise. Serana could not say how long she had spent in the dark of dreams, nor where Garan Marethi had gone, for the presence she felt was distinctly mortal. Its smell of burnt sulfur mixed with ash was reminiscent of something — of someone.
So it had been days, then. There was little way for the commander of the Dawnguard to have recovered in Dragon Bridge before returning to the island. When Serana saw Isran, she spared him the briefest glare.
He walked with a limp, and one of his heavy hands cradled bluntly his bald head, yet he seemed well enough. He was alive.
For a time, he never said a thing. Serana grimaced. She held Malenia tighter, unwilling to move, her vision drowned by tears, by the mounting lack of blood, close but denied, by… by—
"Serana."
She snapped her head up.
It was the first time Isran had spoken her name, and his usual gruff nature had subsumed slightly, replaced by… empathy?
"I didn't know." His steely gaze wandered to the still-smouldering remains lingering by the looming shrine of Molag Bal. He nodded to himself, huffing in derision. "It's over. He is dead, and the prophecy dies with him. I… suppose this is difficult for you."
She is dead, Serana corrected internally, and I died with her.
Her touch ghosted over rosy yet unnaturally pallid cheeks, staring into ocean-blue depths. Yet they stared at nothing at all. They did not see.
Isran began pacing. "Sorine is fine. She is to stay abed for the time being, but Florentius says she'll live. As will Durak and Agmaer, and the rest. I haven't caught wind of Brother Skeld, but I wouldn't be too bothered if those Vigilants wound up dead in some dark hallway." He marched to examine the shrine. "The castle has been cleared of vampires, as far as I know, save for that one. It will take time, but—"
"Leave."
Serana was not going to talk further. She refused to speak as if they had achieved anything at all here.
Isran could avoid the truth before his very eyes all he wished; she would not abandon Malenia. Not now. Not ever.
"I know," said the vampire hunter, "I know how it feels."
"You know fucking nothing." Her parched, scream-scarred cords struggled to form her voice. The flame turned to a faint flicker, muffled in a veil of black-and-burgundy as she shifted to bury her nose into the thick red curls she had adored for so long. She searched for Malenia's warmth, and found only empty cold. "It was me. I killed her, it was me…"
The tears flowed anew, and Serana thought they would never stop.
"You know that's one big wad of skeever-shit," grumbled Isran. "You fought, you tried, you failed." He drove the heel of his boot into the stone. "But it's not over. Give it time. She'll wake soon. Someone as prickly as her won't let herself get killed so simply."
Bile stained the vampire's teeth, her aching fangs. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the woman in her arms and towards Isran. Her voice reverted to its murmur. "How?"
Isran merely shrugged. "You ought to know, you're the one who bit her."
More than once. Serana peered at the multitudes of pin-pricks littering Malenia's throat, the ravaged nape of her neck, even one stray bite on her uncovered shoulder, where her tunic had been ripped in the attack. Entire hours, perhaps even days had passed, and Malenia had shown no sign of infection. Vampirism should have claimed her long ago.
Serana had been too late.
Whatever emotion gleamed Isran's eyes was impossible to decipher. The Redguard turned on his heel and stomped out, saying, "Give it time. I've seen enough vampire bites. This one might just take a good long while."
When had he ever become reassuring? He was grateful for her aid, Serana knew, and this was his way of repaying it.
As if that mattered.
She could feel others beyond the chapel too. Beyond the patrols and thud-thuds of boots on heavy stone and warped wood, she sensed Agmaer's meekly presence, joined by Isran's far further down the hallway.
Their voices were hushed, as if in hiding from her, but her vampiric hearing caught them still.
"She's in there?" asked Agmaer. "And… Malenia?"
"Dead," answered Isran, bluntly.
Dead. The word echoed, burrowing into the dark recess of Serana's thoughts. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. The vampire clung to faint feeble hope. Dead. Perhaps Isran had been right, perhaps the process needed time. Perhaps she would glance down soon to be met by a gentle gaze and rosy scarred fingers trailing over her skin, robbing her of her breath, gliding over her as she might lean in to finally kiss the woman that she lo—
"…but there has to be something we can do. We could send out letters, tell Skyrim that the Dragonborn is in dire need of…"
Whatever Agmaer had been saying before no longer mattered.
Isran scoffed loudly.
"She is gone, boy. Go in there if you wish, but watch your mouth around the vampire. Don't ruin her hopes; she needs time."
Serana wanted to scream.
As their talking continued, she stood, wobbling, the numbness settling over her like a shroud, yet she stood still.
Crimson eyes spared Malenia a fleeting look. The last, perhaps. How much time had passed here? It made no matter — she could not bear to stay, not with Isran and Agmaer's chitterings so close nor Malenia's corpse in her arms…
Blood-caked boots carried her out into the hallway. Agmaer gaped at her, brown eyes wide and startled, then toppled over as Serana brushed past him and down the winding stairs. She had no true destination, nowhere to go besides feeling the need to move, to escape, to lurch open the nearest windowsill and allow the sun to conflagrate her until she was no more than a pile of ash. It was what she deserved.
I did this. She fastened the pace to a run, even as her left leg gave out and she trailed a thin line of blood onto the casterly tapestries.
I killed her. It was me.
The courtyard came next, with the withered old oak and the moondial. How they had come here only a short while ago, filled with determination to see this through. Now the thing was done, and Serana felt nothing but grief.
How could this be a victory?
How could Malenia be dead?
She can't be. She can't be…
Serana slammed the weight of her body into a door, wishing it to break her, for the pain to subsume her, yet the wood merely cracked and splintered and gave way.
A great pyre had been raised on the beach outside. Even after so many hours, she could still see the flames crackling wildly. The bodies of the castle's previous occupants had been thrown in first; she caught the faint glimpse of Feran Sadri's butchered form being carried out, alongside Fura Bloodmouth and a death hound. Seeing the animal had saddened her at first, but then she thought of how one had taken away Malenia's hand. Like their masters, the hounds had to be disposed of.
Father's old chair, his throne, if it could be called such, had been fed to the pyre too, it seemed. Next came his blood cups, regal though tattered robes and suits of armour, and finally his precious sword. Serana was rather surprised by that. She had assumed that Isran or some other vampire hunter would claim it as a prize, but the weapon had been charred to ash all the same.
Serana thrashed, moving, moving…
What would Isran and the rest of them do with Malenia? At this very moment, what had happened to the redhead's corpse?
I abandoned her. The vampire's vision blurred; she couldn't see amidst the tears that poured unceasing. I killed her.
More men could be seen, stern-faced Dawnguard and Vigilants of Stendarr, all with hale vibrant hearts — all of them possessing what Malenia had lost. Castle Volkihar's bricks gave way to cavernous walls, broken by what few torch sconces remained, though none had been lit in what may well have been centuries. Serana ventured lower into the dark earth. Long ago, after her monstrosity had caused the destruction of Winterhold, she had come to Fort Dawnguard in search of help. Isran had told her that she could crawl into a hole to die.
Serana had never forgotten.
Now she was getting what she justly deserved.
Her jaw clenched, her mind remembering as the faint gurgles of rushing water registered. Rusted cages hung high from the chains above, abandoned since the Second Era, their occupants left to die and wither away until only piles of desiccated bones remained. Mother and Orthjolf and the rest of them had commanded that she obey, so long ago.
This was where she had first killed.
This was where she had come to die.
Waves rushed; chains rattled; the vampire shuffled closer to the cliff's edge, having half a mind to let the chill water envelop her wholly, or perhaps to simply stare as she plunged the dagger in her belt deep into her heart—
Yet she was not alone.
She hardly recognised him at first. The phantom pain scouring through her was blinding enough as it was, nor was he ever one to forgo his usual oppulence in favour of the drab greys-and-browns he now wore, his greying hair hidden beneath a thick cowl.
Vingalmo.
He turned, piercing red-rimmed glare meeting her own. "Lady Serana," he drawled, feigning indifference despite his clear surprise. "What a wonder. Have you also escaped the slaughter above?"
No, she wanted to say, but couldn't.
What was the Altmer doing here? Did he not suspect her deception? Or did he wish to ingratiate himself to the new rulers of the castle? As if she could be called such, as if anything at all mattered now, without… without…
Vingalmo tsked. "I saw you up there, you know. Strutting about in cohort with those vampire hunters… with her."
Pale fingers arced subtly. The vampire's gaze darkened, her grief and rage and fury simmering into one single resolute sensation. "Do not talk about her."
The Altmer grinned a fanged grin. "No, no, of course not. Why ever would I speak of the mortal who damned us all? I met her inside the Thalmor Embassy, didn't you know? She came under a false name, false smiles and false manners, but she tore it apart all the same. I do have to wonder how many perished in the flames." He tapped his pointed golden chin. "How many innocents? Is this who you would align yourself with, milady? Nothing more than a repugnant—"
Lightning tore from her palm.
Vingalmo stumbled.
He swore. "Damnable bitch! I shall have your head for this!"
Each movement felt almost animated, the spells stirring the vampire only instinctual. She side-stepped an oncoming firebolt — that was right, she remembered, Vingalmo was one of the few capable of casting flames without being scorched by them.
The stench of decay filled her senses as she ran; Serana slammed her boot into Vingalmo's chest, curled a hand to a fist and meant to slam it into that pampered chin of his—
And then the flames enveloped her.
Serana crumpled to the rocky ground, screaming.
"This is what it comes to," said Vingalmo, sending another blazing torrent snarling towards her. "Your own father, your own home, gone. For what? For one pitiful mortal?" He advanced, gloating as another shriek tore through Serana. "You've no idea how long I have wanted this."
The flames cracked and sizzled as they hissed across her exposed pallid skin, roasting her fingers, snaking up her wrists to blister her arms, then setting ablaze the nail-grazed scars of her face. Tear-stricken eyes managed to see; in the dark of the cavern, the brimming light was the only thing to be seen, as Serana watched the inferno devour her…
…and allowed it to happen.
She deserved this. Vingalmo was right — she had sacrificed everything, only to lose the one person she valued most.
"You might have taken the castle," said the taunting elf, "but you will not take me. We'll come back from this. We always do." His voice dropped to a haunting echo. "And soon enough perhaps I'll find this little friend of yours. Perhaps I'll turn her into my thrall…"
Serana's scorched jaw tightened. Barely, she stood.
Vingalmo faced her, abating the merciless fire, if only just. "Yes, milady, rise. I would have you look at me as I—"
The dagger perched in her hand struck him in the neck, then drew back only to plunge into his chest again and again and again, until Vingalmo was on the ground writhing violently, the black blood pouring out of him in waves.
Serana took a wavering step — then collapsed. She stood again, half-limping, the singed ends of her hair turning to the scent of heavy ash, the skin on her arms charred dark.
The throb pounded, pounded, pounded, and her head with it. Screams and half-wheezes wailed from her lips as she crawled her way out of the caverns. The sounds echoed off the walls, the shadows and rows of torches swirling from the iron sconces. Yet the vampire burned, the ache jammed along her every rib and reaching to scour her uneven heart.
I have to see her. Serana clung to that thought. One last time.
Back through the courtyard she went, below the silvery gleam of Secunda, then through another hallway, growled as she forced each foot up the stairs—
Agmaer stood there. The wood logs in his arms fell. "Serana?" His eyes raked over her ashen-scorched state. "You… what…"
The vampire twitched, her head nudging sharply. "Chapel. Chapel."
"She's not there," the blonde hunter quickly explained. "Malenia, I mean. We took her to one of the rooms, we—"
"You touched—"
"No, no!" Agmaer backed away. "We just… it seemed wrong to leave her lying there like that." He spun then walked before gesturing for Serana to follow. Beyond Father's chambers and one of the upstairs libraries, where Agmaer stretched out a trembling hand, pushed the latch and opened—
Serana stopped.
It was her room.
The bluster and noise of Castle Volkihar tuned away; her room had always been silent. The tall shelves filled to overflowing with books and scrolls and tomes, all covered in thin layers of dust, the dressers — and the bed now filled with the sprawled still form of Malenia.
Agmaer spoke again, yet his words went unheard. Serana pushed past the pain and crashed into the bed, her aching now-scarred fingers reaching to cradle the redhead. She grazed across the delicate rosy features, feeling the warm skin… the warm skin now chilled by death.
Someone had closed her eyes.
Serana thought that was for the better; she would not have been able to look into those ocean-blue depths and tell Malenia that it was all her fault.
Behind her, the sound of an awkward hum reached her. Agmaer shifted uneasily. "I just wanted to say that we may have help, eventually. I sent out letters across Skyrim, pleading for any sort of healers or mages to aid the Dragonborn." He glanced down at his right wrist and stump. "I don't know if I'd be any good, but I'd be glad to help too. And Florentius. If… if you'll let us."
An arm wrapped protectively around Malenia's waist. How often had they held each other like this? Blackreach, the Forgotten Vale, the icy beaches outside her island home…
"We might get more than healers," she told Agmaer. Slowly, she reached to tuck a stray red lock behind Malenia's ear. "Not everyone wants the Dragonborn alive." Elenwen and the Thalmor… Malenia's vengeance was now forever-lost. Serana drew the other woman closer.
Pale lips parted, fangs shone—
And she broke down.
Tears scalded down her scorched cheeks as she sobbed against the redhead, clinging, finding the strength again to scream.
What good would Agmaer's letters do? What if no-one could help? What if Malenia was dead?
"We could help you too," blabbered Agmaer. "Restoration magic has no effect on you, I know that, but—"
"I loved her…" Serana kissed Malenia's cheek, the touch feather-light, hesitant, the favour returned. But even that was too late. Malenia had kissed her, had done it all for her, and Serana could not have mustered the courage to do the same. Her tattered clothes melded into the dust-drawled blankets. "I loved her more than anything…"
Agmaer never replied. There was never a need. The vampire hunter left at some point, leaving Serana alone.
Alone.
Serana's eyes never once left the other woman. Even as the hours passed and her mind wandered, she stayed there with her, the both of them tangled here in this bed, in the very room where she had grown up. She never thought that she would ever return, nor that Malenia would be with her…
Day followed day, and night followed night. She had stopped counting, the only way to know the passage of time in her darkened chambers being that of her own parched throat. With the lack of blood, the vampire began to wither, as agonising and slow as the burns and blisters that still throbbed, only worsened by the lack of any treatment. Serana didn't know whether the Dawnguard even could heal a vampire, nor would she ever accept it. One day might bring tremors, the next a scourging twinge that threatened to overwhelm her as she clung on to Malenia for whatever semblance of comfort she could find, and the next still might finally bring her death.
The elegant blankets and quilts, ancient beyond time, were wet and slick with blood. Her blood, she sensed. With Malenia gone, so too had the power of her blood dwindled.
None of the Dawnguard would ever offer themselves to her, nor did Serana ever venture out to hunt.
She lay there and waited. Waited for Malenia, for Agmaer's letters, for death.
It was on one sunless day that Castle Volkihar grew weary from a visitor. Isran had nearly denied him entry at first, before the man had mentioned both Malenia and Serana by name and informed the Dawnguard that he was the sole reason that Agmaer was not presently a vampire.
Serana saw him entering her room and spoke. "Falion."
The older Redguard nodded, and his voice was thick with longing. "I heard. That boy may have left out the details, but I knew enough. Jarl Idgrod is interested in this Dragonborn living, you understand, as am I."
He sauntered closer to the bed, never touching, yet the gleam in his look said enough. He examined Malenia, glancing first at the marks on her neck then the open wound in her stomach, and the stained leathers thereafter.
Once or twice, he offered a nonchalant hm, though never breathed a word.
How Falion or Idgrod knew of Malenia's true nature was beyond Serana, yet she did not care to ask. "The castle, our relics, all the gemstones and gold you happen upon," she said, "they're all yours. You can have everything, so long as you bring her back to me."
"Never you mind that." The Priest of Arkay waved a dismissive hand. "If I expected a reward, I would have asked my Jarl. 'Who cares about the world?' I hear some in Morthal ask. 'It's full of idiots' they say. Well, we happen to be idiotic enough to live in this world, so we'd best start caring about its salvation. Would you agree?"
The world doesn't matter. Only she does. Serana sat up, groaning and coughing. "Can you help her or not?"
Falion quirked an eccentric near-hopeful smile.
"I believe there is a way."
Chapter Text
The ritual began in the early hours of dawn. Castle Volkihar's once-grand dining hall was cleared of its tables and thralls — alongside the slain vampires — as well as the slabs of flesh and blood cups.
In their place, a casting circle had been carved, and Malenia placed amidst it.
Falion stood over the redhead's limp form, joined by Florentius and Agmaer, and other healers who had received letters and decided to come. There were priests from across Skyrim, including one Danica Pure-Spring hailing from Whiterun, who knew of the dragon attack outside her city, and of Malenia who had saved the city from the winged beast.
Isran stood over the railing where Lord Harkon had given countless innate speeches and rants, his arms folded as he huffed. "And what exactly is this ritual supposed to consist of?"
Serana tapped her foot insistently. "It's Daedric in nature," she said with a wince. Every word she spoke was an effort; her soft voice had turned to gravelly growls, and faint bruised scars formed over her pallid throat. Entire weeks had passed since her encounter with Vingalmo in the caverns, yet the blisters and the burns still lingered, still hurt, as if her body desperately tried and failed to fight off an abhorrent affliction.
I'm falling apart. She wrapped an arm about herself and trembled. Blood. Blood. It was the only thing that could help, but she refused.
Nobody would ever give her blood, nor would she ever accept it.
Crimson eyes peered at the hall below. Serana let out a haunting sob. Malenia seemed so helpless lying there, surrounded by so many, alone…
"This had better damned work."
She nodded at Isran's gruff reply. This had better work, she agreed, or it's all over.
Or she was over.
Falion unfurled the necessary tomes; some bore the familiar bird-like symbol of Restoration magic, and others the tell-tale Daedric Oht. It was crude, the soul gems he encircled around Malenia cracked or bent, and earned doubts from the likes of Florentius, who stood there with a furrowed old brow. Only an hour past, the elderly Imperial had muttered about Falion, calling him eccentric, yet Serana thought that was precisely what was needed.
She felt Isran's steely gaze upon her. The Dawnguard had all stared, stunned and probably bewildered at her disheveled, half-burnt appearance. The leather gear stolen from a hunter outside the Ancestor Glade was now torn to tatters — Serana had scraped her knee where the fabric had been scorched away, and her arms were bare and her burns clear.
"You don't need to torture yourself," grumbled the Redguard.
Yes I do, thought the vampire, never turning. "You don't need to pretend like you care."
Isran let out a derisive hmph. "Fine. Have it your way." The two stayed in silence for a long while, waiting for any final preparations. Falion was as meticulous as he seemed careless, clinking vials and gemstones whilst pouring one containing sickly-crimson liquid down Malenia's throat. Isran turned again. "What about the blood?"
Serana stifled the urge to growl. There was nothing she could do to hide the ire of her tone. "What about it."
"You need it. I've seen more than enough what'll happen if a vampire turns feral. You helped us, there is no denying that, but I will not allow my Dawnguard to be threatened just because you can't muster the will to go out there and hunt."
"Then kill me."
"What are you—"
"I mean it. If you think I'm a threat here, if I become too unstable…" Serana curled her hands into tight fists, grimacing. "I know you've been itching to slay Garan since you first laid eyes on him. Do it if you find him, for all I care. And then I'll be the only vampire left."
"Right." Isran scoffed. "I can see why she's stayed with you this long. Both just as damn stubborn."
He stomped off and down the stairs, joining the ritual and leaving Serana. She stood where her father had once stood and wondered what it was that had led him to this. Was it the sweltering gaze of hundreds upon him? Commanding them to do as he wished?
If that power hadn't corrupted him, he might still be alive, and Mother here with him, and Malenia…
Serana hadn't thought much of her own father's demise. It was some sad cruel twist of fate, she thought, to lose not just Harkon but Malenia. She didn't know what had befallen the twisted remnants of Father, nor did she find it in her to care. Harkon had done this, Harkon had killed—
No. No. Malenia would live. She had to.
Red-rimmed eyes glanced at the coffins lining the far walls. The Dawnguard hadn't removed them just yet, but with their occupants thrown to the flames, she thought the coffins would soon follow. If this ritual proved to be a waste, Serana had half a mind to bring a coffin of her own to the beach. The Dawnguard would be more than happy to accomodate her, she thought, and then she could finally rest.
She could finally pay for what she'd done.
Falion cleared his throat. All preparations lay in place. "I must tell everyone here to be utterly silent. Concentration is paramount when dealing with magical forces!"
Agmaer stared at him obtusely. "Why?"
"Because an unfocused mind will almost certainly be obliterated. Destroyed by the forces we attempt to control and yield. You wouldn't want that to happen to her, do you, boy?" He nodded to himself, then back towards Malenia. "Now, I believe we can begin."
The two Dawnguard healers strayed away, as did Danica Pure-Spring and the others who had come from far-away Windhelm and Falkreath, and Isran and Durak and the Vigilants of Stendarr. Serana stood stiff as she watched the comotion, Falion muttering to himself, the soul gems falling like a gentle snow across Malenia's still form.
She's alone. The vampire let out a soft sob, her vision blurred by tears. She needs me there, I need to be there, I need—
"I call upon Oblivion itself!" cried out Falion. "The home of those who are not our ancestors. Answer my plea!" The soul gems shimmered slightly then began to float, crackling, their blackened shade shifting to hues of azure and crimson and grey before dulling again. "As in death there is new life, in Oblivion there is a beginning for that which has ended. I call forth that power! Accept what we offer — as the sun ends the night, end the darkness of this soul, return life to the mortal you see before you!"
Malenia's body arched off the ground; her rosy lips parted; the scarred fingers of her hand splayed; thick verdant veils enshrouded her—
Serana's hands had found the railing at some point, the ancient warped wood-and-stone splintering under the force of her grasp—
The corpse sagged back down, regarding the Priest of Arkay looming over her lifelessly.
Castle Volkihar drowned in silence. Falion paced about, his dark brow furrowed, as if confused. Belatedly, he plucked an old tome from the casting circle and flipped through its pages, grumbling to himself.
He glazed over one page and then another, and seemed to flip back-and-forth between the very same topics, the same pages, if Serana saw it right.
Agmaer was the first to speak. "That's it?"
"No," said Falion, still reading, "that was merely the beginning. We cannot expect the ritual to take effect on its first attempt. Many more will be required, of course, until we—"
Serana scoffed. She shifted herself, cursing whatever shriveled remnants of hope still remained within her, for she had always known this would amount to nothing. Dead. Dead. Dead. She walked down the steps, even as a sharp twinge shot through her leg with each subtle movement, and faced the aged muttering Redguard.
"Move."
Falion raised his head. "Oh, don't you worry, this ritual will work as planned. Though I fear it is rather taxing on both body and soul. Give it a day, and I will try again."
"Move." Her strained patience was at an end. The glow of her stare intensified at the priest's detached frown. "Or you will be moved."
Once Falion relented, the vampire wasted no time. She gathered Malenia in her arms; the long red curls had stiffened by the magic, the ends velvety, and the skin turned sickly pallid and chill to the touch. Agmaer bumbled, Danica offered a plea, and Falion argued, but Serana paid them no mind. The halls of her castle home were dreary and silent and cold, haunted, Harkon and Valerica's likenesses repeated along the paintings staring at her with judgement.
She gently settled Malenia onto her bed again, then planted a kiss onto her forehead.
Useless.
Useless.
Falion had failed.
"I'm sorry." Serana could barely make out the words herself, warbled as they were by her sobs. She sat with Malenia, pale fingers reaching to thread through each scarlet curl before gingerly touching the wound on Malenia's chest. Falion's magic had some amount of effect, admittedly, yet it was all for naught.
What did it matter if a corpse was healed, if Malenia stayed a corpse?
The rest of the day passed in near-silence. Not Falion nor any Dawnguard ever entered her room, leaving only Serana and the unmoving woman that never left her arms. At times, the exhaustion was too great and sleep would pull at her. She could not remember her dreams, but she always woke clinging to Malenia in a desperate embrace, shivering, sweating, her fingers convulsing seemingly at random. The lack of blood caused her burns to stay unhealed, and her mind to turn muddled and befuddled.
She had told Isran to kill her, if necessary.
Part of her wished for that to happen soon.
She cried more often than not, even as her voice struggled to form at all. Through her sobbing, she tried to whisper to Malenia, hoping that the other woman would somehow hear and be comforted — and realise that this was all Serana's fault. She told Malenia how sorry she was, that she never wanted this, that she would gladly take her own life if it meant Malenia's return, yet nothing ever happened.
The sound of the mortal's sweet soft voice had been soothing over these past few months spent together. Serana had never realised just how much she craved it, endlessly and desperately cursed by the voice that she may never hear again.
It was on one day that she noticed the stench.
Malenia had started to rot.
There was a rustle of noise in the hallways. A low growl spilled out of the vampire as she slowly stirred, teary red-rimmed eyes struggling to make out the ashen-skinned woman that entered. She was shorter than Serana recalled, perhaps meeker, but curiosity still shone in her bright crimson gaze.
Brelyna Maryon.
The Dunmer offered a small nod. "Winterhold received one of your letters. There were some offers to help, Colette Marence mainly, but she refused once your name came up." She glanced about awkwardly. "I… I wanted to come."
Her name? Just what had Agmaer included in those letters? Malenia was in need of healing here, not her.
"What are you doing here? There is nothing you can do to help, so why bother." Serana's eyes narrowed. "Do you even remember what I did to you?"
She scoffed before Brelyna answered. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with.
"You know what I am now, you remember what I did." She laid back down, her nostrils flaring at the sickly-sweet rancid stench engulfing them. She wrapped an arm around Malenia all the same. "Go back to the College."
Brelyna Maryon cleared her throat; she turned, half-towards the door behind her then all around Serana's disheveled room. "I'm sorry. I thought I would come to… clear the air between us, I suppose, but if you want me gone…"
A shiver slithered down the vampire's spine. She tightened her embrace as heavy tears slipped off her lashes, shivering, her chest heaving with each breathy, mournful exhale. "Stay." This was unlike her. Brelyna had no fault in this, Brelyna had done nothing… Serana suppressed the urge to scowl. And scream and thrash about and lunge at the delicate blood-filled morsel standing so very close. "What spells have you come up with?" After Falion's pathetic little attempt, Serana held little faith.
"None," said Brelyna.
"Then why would you—"
"I spoke with Urag. After you left, when the College was being rebuilt… he told me about vampirism. What he knew, at least." Brelyna paced slowly. "He said you didn't mean to lose control."
"He said." And you believed him. Serana looked warily at the woman in her arms. Lord Harkon had left Malenia in a dire state; her chest had caved in, her ribs poking as blood poured unceasing, yet Falion's ritual had abated all that. Beyond her tattered robes, Malenia's chest had reverted to its natural smooth and soft and rosy-and-pale hue, even as a mangled scar remained. Serana thought of the cavern in the Forgotten Vale, when she had been allowed to touch and caress the scars for the first time. How lovely Malenia had seemed back then…
And Brelyna. Serana knew full well how the Dunmer truly must have felt — a long time had gone on since Ancano's death and the destruction of the College of Winterhold, but she remembered losing control, attacking Ancano and Savos Aren, and nearly killing Brelyna too.
The lack of blood now…
"You shouldn't stay," she said, crestfallen. "I don't know how much longer I have, but you must be gone before I lose myself again."
Brelyna blinked as recognition settled. "You need blood?" She stiffened at the vampire's nod. "Oh. Well. I've run into more than enough bandits on the way here; we could go find one of their camps—"
"No."
Not now.
Not without Malenia.
Not before I get what I deserve.
"You don't need to keep up pretenses," she told the elven mage. "If you feel like you've wronged me before, if you want to make up for something, don't bother." She sank further into her quilted pillow, longing for the sweet scent that she had known so well. Only death and decay remained. "I know I'm a monster."
"I don't think you are." Brelyna spoke with no small amount of doubt. "Or maybe you are, but so what? If I cared only for being safe, I would've listened to Master Tolfdir before Saarthal. The crypts, Labyrinthian — that attack on the College was exciting."
"Exciting? You almost died."
Brelyna merely smiled.
Yet it faltered as her eyes fell onto the redhead. She cleared her throat, her voice turning morose. "The woman from Saarthal," she stated numbly. "I… I didn't know. That you two were together, I mean." Her head dropped. "I'm sorry."
Sorry won't bring her back. "We're not together," said Serana. Her heart churned at the admission. She loved Malenia, more than anything, more than life itself… but surely those feelings were not returned. How could they? Malenia was everything that Serana was not. She was brave and strong and beautiful — and though she would let no-one know, gentle and sweet.
And Serana was…
It could not be. They had hugged and she had nestled herself in Malenia's comforting embrace and she had felt the redhead's lips upon her pale cheek—
But it meant nothing.
Because if Malenia had loved her too, if those feelings were returned and if she was now gone…
"I heard talk of a ritual," said Brelyna.
"It failed."
"I heard that too. But what about necromancy? Phinis Gestor back at the College practices necromancy on occasion. Maybe if we convinced him—"
"I don't want necromancy." What in Oblivion was the point of that? Serana could easily raise Malenia's corpse, obviously, but only as a shambling creature enthralled entirely to her.
Serana didn't care about servants. She wanted her.
But she was not the only necromancer here.
She suddenly shot up. "The Soul Cairn." Necromancy would prove useless — so long as it was the sort she knew. But Valerica still lived in the Cairn, and with her expertise, perhaps combined with whatever Falion and Danica knew…
The Dunmer blinked, confused. "The Soul Cairn? What about it?"
"My mother lives there," the vampire hurriedly explaiened, knowing lives was not quite right. "She refused to leave until Father was dead, and now he is." Another reunion with Valerica might break her entirely — the arguments they would surely have, Mother learning that her daughter had been stupid enough to fall for a mortal…
…Yet Serana didn't care.
Mother had abandoned her. Dimhollow Crypt had been nothing but an elaborate plan, and Mother all-too happy to abuse her trust and love. She would do well to consider herself lucky that Serana wouldn't leave her to rot.
"I can't stay." Serana sat up then swung her legs off the bed; her bare feet met the chill floor with a dull thud, and her ever muscle strained and screamed for her to rest just a short while longer.
Why Brelyna had chosen to come still confused her, yet it made no matter. The Dunmer could remain if she wished.
As for Malenia…
Serana turned. Slowly, her hands reached to brush away the tangled curls framing the mortal's face. She looked at her; for a fleeting moment, she could almost delude herself into thinking that Malenia was merely sleeping. Rotted, unnaturally pallid, but sleeping. She remembered the Forgotten Vale, the two of them in each other's arms, hearing that gentle yet strangely anxious heartbeat, their promises, Malenia willing to share a room and a bed with her.
She had gotten all that and more. And had sacrificed everything for it.
A rosy flush reached her face as she planted a light kiss onto Malenia's cheek, pulled back as if that would do anything at all, then kissed the other.
"Come back to me." She kissed the woman's forehead one final time, then wrapped the blankets snug around her, warding off the creeping chill. "Come back to me."
The next hour seemed a blur. Valerica's Laboratory had never seen this many visitors. Serana went through the motions in detached manner, mixing in the soul gem shards and the purified void salts, then grinding bone meal atop the ingredients. The chalice overlooking the stone dial thrummed with power — when her own blood was added, the stone cracked and shifted, the circle turning into steps descending into a swirling lavender abyss.
Isran crossed his arms. "And nothing will come crawling out of there?"
It was Falion who answered. "Of course not. The Ideal Masters hold their minions on a tight leash; they would never grace even a single soul without payment."
"Nevertheless," said Danica Pure-Spring, "we should remain vigilant."
The Dawnguard were assembled around the laboratory, waiting, guarding — but none would ever agree to be soul trapped, nor turned.
The vampire chewed idly onto her lower lip. A thin trickle of blood flowed down her chin. I will be alone. Coming here had been harrowing enough; being reminded of last time, of Malenia choosing an unknowable ritual rather than abandoning Serana, and the two of them confronting Valerica. Malenia hadn't known it then, but her presence alone had helped more than anything.
And now she was gone. What if this was all a waste? What if Serana was doomed to the Cairn, what if Valerica was too, what if Malenia—
Isran tapped his boot into the stone.
"Ready?"
Brelyna Maryon eyed the encroaching portal with a growing curiosity. Agmaer seemed wary to even approach, and Falion seemed entirely unperturbed.
"Fear not," the Redguard had assured before. "The ritual will take effect, I am certain of it."
Are you? Or is it more lies?
Serana had wished with no-small amount of hope that Garan would be here. The Dunmeri vampire hadn't been seen since the day of Malenia's death, though she thought he was still inside the castle. Even his presence would have been welcomed inside the Soul Cairn.
Steeling her frayed nerves, she nodded. "Ready."
She stepped through the portal.
The senseless feeling was uncomfortable, though it was a mercy compared to the pain of her blisters and burns, and passed quickly. When the veil dissipated and her vision recovered, Serana saw only the bleak dark stretching out before her. It might have terrified her, once.
Now… she could not bring herself to feel anything at all.
Souls spilled from cracks erupting the fog-filled ground, and ghostly apparitions wandered without aim nor hope, muttering their loss of fortunes.
"How could they trick me like this?"
"My ship… what happened to my ship? Where am I?"
"You must help me find my Arvak," said a shimmering man, "he doesn't deserve to be in a place like this!"
Serana felt the chill beneath her feet, the winds passing through the tatters of her leather garb, and shivered.
She strained to see; her ears lay clogged; she couldn't breathe.
More. Her legs gave out. Serana had collapsed to the ground at some point, but she pushed herself to stand. Only a little more. Valerica had to be found, and then… and then…
"My horse. We came to this horrible place together. We were attacked by monsters, so I told him to run. Please!"
I am a monster too.
Through the ashes and through the bone-like skeletal trees, and the blackened ruins and the trembling souls, their silence broken by low sparse strikes of thunder. Time itself seemed to be at a standstill in the Cairn, for nothing had changed here despite the passing of entire months. The tall ruin in the near distance remained.
Mother's prison.
The spectral mumblings dwindled, the lightning struck less frequently, and the ruin loomed high in the swirling skies—
Serana screamed at the familiar figure she saw. "Mother! Mother!"
It was as if no time had gone on at all for Valerica. The elder vampire turned, a frown tearing through her composed demeanor. "Serana? How did you… why have you returned?" Her own burning eyes widened at the state of her daughter before her. She nodded in understanding. "I take it that Harkon has been slain."
"Forget about Harkon."
Serana took another step forward—
And then collapsed into the hard, soul-shriven ground.
Pain scoured through her, a terrible persistent ache that only worsened with each moment. Serana stared at the bleak and cloudy sky. There was no sun, no moons, only the all-devouring void.
Valerica asked something, then, but it went unheard.
Help. Serana couldn't speak. Help me. No, that thought was wrong, she did not deserve to be helped. Help her. It was the sole reason she had come. Her own life did not matter, neither did Valerica, nor Isran nor the Dawnguard nor anyone.
Only Malenia. Valerica had to help.
Careful hands cradled her head up. Serana winced, drifting between exhausting wakefulness and sleep. When her mother held her like this, she could almost think that the past Eras hadn't happened, that she and Mother and Father were all still living a quiet life on their island home. Yet when their eyes met, Serana saw that vampiric gaze reflected back at her, and suppressed a deep shiver. Mother had never cared, she had still abandoned her, she had still entombed her inside Dimhollow Crypt, and Serana could not forget.
But she could wait.
"We must leave," she mumbled weakly. "You must hurry… the priest failed… we must save…"
"Shhhh," Valerica cooed. "Don't talk." Her attentive yet firm touch grazed over the scorch marks — agony tore through Serana anew at the contact, at her forearms where there was a hint of bone, where the flesh had been seared away — then abruptly stopped. "Harkon could not have done this. He never could tamper with fire magic. Serana. What happened?"
I'm dying, she thought. "I'm fine," she said. It was an effort to even keep her eyes open.
Her mother tsked. "It was that vampire hunter. Don't you try and deny it. The one I saw you with before. After you killed your father, she tried to—"
Serana pulled away. She hissed.
"Never talk about her."
Whether Valerica recognised the retort mattered not, for she never reacted. Her voice never rose above its usual firm tone. "You did not come back to be petulant, I presume." Her hands reached out again, tentative, detached. "I cannot heal your burns," she admitted, "but it should not matter. Once you've fed—"
"Don't." It was all that Serana could muster. She refused her mother's weak attempts at mothering, and she refused to feed.
A thin tremour stabbed through her leg as she stood. The way back to the portal seemed impossibly far, the stony steps reaching into the shriven sky faint in the distance, but she would make it there.
She had to.
"Get your things," she told Valerica, not meeting those eyes. "We're leaving."
Yet Mother never made a move.
"I said—"
"I heard you, Serana. And were it that easy, I would have left of my own accord already." Valerica turned, her stare settling on the ruin that had been her prison for centuries beyond counting. "Do you remember Durnehviir? What I told you about him?" She pondered that for a moment, then spoke when Serana was not in the mood. "The Ideal Masters have claimed him — his soul. He is doomed to the Soul Cairn forevermore. Enough time spent in this place takes its toll. Durnehviir is damned… as I might be."
Serana blinked. Had it all been a waste? Was her mother trapped inside this realm?
Was she?
Valerica turned. "I have thought of a way out, but it cannot be done alone. If the Cairn operates on souls…"
"…then you need a soul to replace yours," the other vampire finished. "A sacrifice."
Not too long ago, Serana might have winced at the grisly prospect. No-one deserved damnation in the Soul Cairn, let alone someone bearing a soul mighty enough to replace Valerica's. Yet Serana had cried enough tears, suffered enough to worry further.
Valerica would be set free, Valerica would save Malenia—
"Mother." Serana's voice was grave. "The woman I was with, that vampire hunter… do you know of any way to resurrect her?"
"Resurrect? Serana, what have you done?"
The question was too much.
Serana shattered.
She slammed a heavy fist into the ground as she screamed, though with her parched and rattled throat it came out as little more than a whimper. Weak. Monster. Monster. She sobbed weakly as she wrapped her arms around her mother, wishing to be held and comforted and to push Mother away and for all of this to damnably stop. Though hesitant, she felt Valerica's arms envelop her.
"Father killed her…" she murmured into the ancient-yet-elegant blouse Valerica wore. "He killed her… and I need her back. I need her back with me…"
But a sacrifice is needed. Serana gulped, thinking. It can be me.
Valerica didn't bothered to hold her back when the other vampire suddenly stood. "Serana, what are you—"
She never spoke. She never had to. Whatever price the Ideal Masters wished for, she would pay it. A snarl — and a sob rippled from her chest as she walked, in small slow steps of throbbling agony.
Red-rimmed eyes snapped closed. Her mouth rattled.
Valerica was close.
The stinging verdant hue of magic overwhelmed the Soul Cairn. Serana gasped. Would her mother… was she…
"Don't you even think about it." Valerica tightened the leash of her spell, holding her daughter in place. Her sweltering gaze darted, then, and all the cruelty of Lord Harkon and the court flooded back in. Mother was no different. "I have gone through enough only to lose you now. You tell me you've fallen for a mortal, a vampire hunter, and expect us to move past that?" The elder vampire shook her head. "You are my daughter and I love you, but you are a fool."
Serana craned her head. The paralysis spell prevented all movement, all thought. Just who did Mother think she was to judge her?
The person Serana had trusted most, the person who had betrayed and entombed her. She was done.
"Let go."
Valerica scoffed. "Only when you'll stop acting like this. You need blood, and you need to realise that a mortal was never meant for you." Her tone eased, slightly, yet there was a firm resolve to it. "I've sacrificed enough to lose you. I won't."
Like you sacrificed me? A pallid hand shot out, and with great effort, tore through the ensnaring magic. Serana glared with mounting hatred.
"You abandoned me."
An all-too familiar sigh was Valerica's reply. "Serana," she said at last, "how many times must I repeat myself? What I did, I did for the good of—"
"The good of the family? Just like Father always said. You were no different. You still aren't. I trusted you, and you let me rot in that tomb all the same. If I had never been found, if… if it hadn't been for…"
Malenia had rescued her.
And now Malenia was gone.
Her legs wobbled, her skin tingled, and her throat parched, but the spell dwindled still. Serana let out a cough, facing her mother. "You do not get to be judging," she said. You don't know what I did. She shouldered ahead, unwilling to wait any longer. "How does this sacrifice work?"
"There is an entity in this realm known as the Reaper," answered Valerica, though hesitation lingered. "It is not a friendly arbiter, quite, but it takes souls in payment. Yours will most-certainly not be one of them." As they walked, her steps shuffled. "I'm sorry. I never knew you and that vampire hunter had grown so… close."
Serana thought of those ocean-blue eyes meeting her own, of soft careful fingers grazing along her skin as her name was spoken in a sweet voice — and shivered. Fantasy threatened to drown her; the rosy lips which she had craved the taste of for so very long; sharp yet tender fangs whispering and nibbling and tasting; the two of them forever-entwined…
Malenia couldn't have loved her too.
She couldn't have…
The Reaper's Lair, as it was known, was indistinct enough from the outside. It was akin to all the other broken and charred ruins of the Soul Cairn, a run-down little hovel, but Valerica was confident that tremendous power was contained within.
Past the shambling souls and the shattered boulders and fallen trees, the increasingly nearing stench of sweat and blood and heavy breaths and something worryingly, distinctly mortal—
And then she heard the whizzling of a crossbow bolt.
It crawled into her shoulder before she could ever react, sending her sprawling to the rocks.
Red-rimmed eyes struggled to make sense of it.
Who… what…
In the distance, Serana saw them: Brother Skeld and his Vigilants. How had they entered the Soul Cairn?
The fearful flash of betrayal burned through her conscious. Had Isran turned traitor? Had the Dawnguard allowed Skeld to pass through the portal, had they tampered with the ritual, had they harmed Malenia…
"Serana!"
Her mother's cry spurred her into action. The vampire stood, snarling. Whatever pretenses of civility she still had were abandoned entirely, for her blood-starved mind heard only the command of Molag Bal.
Pale lips parted. She smiled.
So many mortals, so very close.
Exhaling slowly, the vampire splayed her fingers and allowed the magicka to flow, until the crackles formed and arced around her. The nearest Vigilant, a shorter woman, was the first to be incinerated. How these pitiful fools had gained entry to the Soul Cairn no longer mattered. Their pulses thundered. That was enough.
"By Stendarr's will," said the short woman, "you shall be—"
By my Lord's will, thought the ravenous vampire, this shall be your last day living.
Mortals had always been weakened in the Cairn; it was an advantage she exploited to the fullest. With the torrent of lightning momentarily dazing the Vigilant, a pale jittering hand shot out. She grasped a steel dagger from its sheath, unfurled it, and plunged it deep into the by-now screaming woman's armoured chest. Metal rattled, leather tore, the sickly soft skin was powerless to resist—
She fell still and silent.
It was not enough.
An elder vampire, one with dark hair tied into messy yet still elegant buns, fought the Vigilants too. Somehow, she seemed familiar. "Serana, more of them to the right!"
Serana… Serana… where had the vampire heard that name? It could not be her own… she lacked a name, a soul, and needed naught.
So long as the Lord of Domination whispered His sweet caresses…
"Kill." His voice was a delicate murmur in her heart. "Kill. Kill. Kill."
The wound in her shoulder pierced and throbbed and ached. Red-rimmed eyes glanced down. An arrow still lay lodged there, and a certain hatred accompanied it.
"Silver," Molag Bal told her, as if impatient. "Silver."
The vampire's fingers wrapped around the dreaded projectile—
Then hesitated.
Belatedly, her mind swirled, reminded by her shame and her grief and… she deserved this pain. Somehow, she knew that, more than anything.
She left the arrow scourge its silver through her shoulder, and snapped her head.
There were more Vigilants to slaughter.
They had all entered the ruined hovel by now, and the vampire followed. Rusted chains and cages were inside, as was a dark spectre who shimmered in-and-out of reality. Its crimson eyes darted, and the velvety violet flames of the bonfire in front of it filled the room with the chill of tepid death.
"I should've killed you when I had the chance," said a male Vigilant. Was he the last survivor? Was he the sacrifice? "Isran, that idiot, and that woman. She—"
Blood.
Blood.
The vampire grabbed a fistfull of the man's robes, then slammed him head-first into the bonfire. The flames devoured his flesh as screams ripped from his throat. The smells and sizzles of charred meat were near to overwhelming, but the vampire relished in them.
A ghastly essence spilled from the Vigilant's corpse, and then the spectre nodded in satisfaction.
She tore the dead man from the flames, laid him onto the gore-strewn floor, and plunged her fangs deep into his exposed arm.
The blood poured down her parched throat—
And her senses returned.
Her chest rose, fell, her every breath sharp and pained. She was Serana. She had done this. She had killed them. She looked in bleary horror, noticing her mother standing there, winded though perhaps more spirited, the shackles binding her to this realm severed. Brother Skeld's eviscerated corpse still lay below her, and his blood had eased the pain.
With a whimpering sob, Serana dug her fingers down her throat, and forced herself to vomit.
The repugnant bile splattered over Skeld. She stood, shaking.
Valerica tsked; a hot-scolding tone, one that Serana utterly despised. "Let's go," she spat out with a grunt. Her breaths had turned to wheezing, and she could scarcely even stand on her feet. Her body was failing her, but Mother had been freed. Mother could save Malenia. That was enough.
"Serana—"
"Don't."
Just before departing the Reaper's Lair, Serana took one final parting gift, her hands fumbling to tear out the arrow from her shoulder. Brother Skeld's head had been misplaced, what little remained of it scorched and still smoking, and around his throat was an Amulet of Mara. She put it on herself, whispering a silent prayer to the Divine.
Valerica balked at her, offended. "We would never lower ourselves to Mara." Her voice softened. "And you presume too much, Serana. You know just as well that necromancy won't work. Not the way you want it."
Serana let out a hacking cough. Every breath hurt. "Try." Try, like Falion had tried. "Whatever you can… please."
The Amulet of Mara was heavier than she thought, rimmed in gold and sapphires, and seemed to be a locket of sorts. Brother Skeld had kept nothing within.
"Please." A soft thumb ghosted over the amulet's surface. Serana could not say whether she had spoken or thought. Bring her back to me.
Entire weeks had gone on. Isran, Agmaer, Brelyna Maryon, Falion and his eccentricities proving utterly useless. Vingalmo slain in the depths of the caverns, Brother Skeld and his Vigilants slaughtered… Serana had suffered too much to let it all go to waste. She was halfway to becoming a corpse as it was, and she thought that was a suitable fate for one as wretched as her, but she would push through, just that little while longer.
For her.
The trek to the portal was short and wordless. Passing the veil to Tamriel was joined by the same strange soulless feeling, one that Serana could not bring herself to care for anymore.
Now in Valerica's Laboratory, she blinked, settling on her surroundings. The Dawnguard were gone. Had they assisted the Vigilants in entering the Soul Cairn? Or had Skeld performed the ritual elsewhere? Castle Volkihar remained unchanged. Serana thought to stumble back to her room, hold Malenia tight in her arms and cry with whatever strength she had left.
It was over. She had failed.
"It might take decades to restore the castle to its former glory," said Valerica, grazing longingly along a dusty pile of potions, "but I appear to have plenty of time."
Screams could be heard from an outside chamber.
Serana glanced just as a door swung open—
Agmaer walked in. His chest heaved and his brown eyes were wide — as if he had seen a ghost.
Serana inhaled, and all of the pain and grief vanished.
She knew that look.
In an instant, she knew.
Notes:
;)
Chapter Text
The rain was pouring, pouring, pouring, and her head with it. The small slanted hovel wailed and groaned under the weight of the winds. The sounds echoed off the rafters whilst the hut's occupants slumbered peacefully; wood creaked, windows rattled, but the rain was what irritated her most.
Malenia groaned. She had been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours.
She turned, a sigh slipping rosy lips as she stared at her sister's face. Jeyne was asleep. Come the dawn, they would both have to tend to the chickens, and Jeyne would likely lose herself in their small garden. She'd endlessly insisted that Malenia join her.
Ocean-blue eyes settled on the thatched roof. Straw fell in a gentle wave on her.
Stupid.
Sleep eluded her tonight, and she saw fit to complain? Things could be far worse. The village may have seen another attack, whether by the Thalmor, the Imperials, brigands… so long as that didn't happen, she would cherish what she had.
After another bout of tossing, Malenia finally roused herself from bed. A walk might just be what she needed. Her bare feet met the cool wood, then took her out of the room. Mud and shallow puddles had formed in the gardens, and the old oak's branches were low with water, yet the nightly air was mild.
Weeks had gone on since the Altmer, since the Justiciar named Elenwen had struck in search of something — and been defeated. Elenwen had laughed, had mocked the village, and in the end, she had died.
Malenia had been the one to kill the smirking smug damn elf herself.
She kept walking, her feet sinking into the damp moss with every step—
A sharp pain shot through her abdomen.
Her right hand shot to her hip, clasping the wound and stilling the… what? Malenia peered downward; there was nothing, no scars nor lesions marring her rosy skin and nightshirt, nothing at all but a persistent ghostly ache. It had become common, strangely. The day before, it had been a thin stabbing sensation in her neck, and her head, and now her chest.
"Stop," she muttered in the storm, wishing for these demons to leave.
The storm answered with a foreign voice.
"I see it is done."
"Lord Harkon is dead."
"The castle is ours."
The castle? Crimson brows furrowed. Malenia had never before been to a castle. There was her sister and the village, only the village…
And just who was this Lord Harkon?
She had reached the old oak by now, the end of her family's plot. Cyrodiil stretched out quietly before her. The rolling hills were blanketed in a verdant veil, shadowed save for the brief flashes whenever thunder struck. No torches, no lamps or candles could be seen. The world was drowned in darkness.
"It's over," the unknowable voice said again, this time gruffer. "He is dead, and the prophecy dies with him."
Malenia winced.
She felt soft gentle pressure around her arms, cradling carefully, as if she were being touched. Yet she was alone. What was this?
The winds whistled rougher; the moss clung and grated at her soles; the lightning struck closer — and Malenia felt nothing.
This was nothing. She clung to that delusion. Only the strange, misbegotten thoughts of a bored girl. She should have turned back and joined Jeyne in bed. They both needed their rest for the day ahead.
A shrill laughter pierced her mind.
"I met her inside the Thalmor Embassy, didn't you know?"
At the manicured yet abhorrently arrogant voice, thoughts flooded Malenia's head. Half-remembered memories of a carriage through the blizzard, meeting a Bosmer, the Embassy, two servant girls, Elenwen…
"She came under a false name, false smiles and false manners, but she tore it apart all the same. I do have to wonder how many perished in the flames. How many innocents?"
More thoughts. More death.
Malenia felt her hand cradling a sword, long yet light, blinding in its divine radiance, plunging it into the hearts of so many that it was beyond counting, delighting in that slaughter, turning to the Brotherhood, then an order of vampire hunters, venturing to a mountain and finding a dark monolith—
Against herself, Malenia ran.
The puddles no longer mattered, nor the lightning that now seemed to pummel the world unceasing.
Dread carved its path into her chest as agony lodged itself deeper, clashing with her doubts. Her life was not without its faults, yet it was idyllic still. Jeyne lived, Elenwen was slain, the village saved—
She reached her home.
In the short time she had been away, the wood and thatch had charred to ash.
Malenia could scarcely bear to notice the roaring flames licking at her skin, the repugnant stench of her by-now rotted right hand, the beams toppling all around her as the home she had grown in and cherished more than the world broke and shattered and collapsed. Gravel flew from her steps as she gained the last few steps to her room. The moons hung above as the rain poured, poured, poured, drowning the still silent form of a young girl in her bed.
Malenia's voice was ghastly. "Jeyne?"
There came no reply.
The storm howled louder. The redhead felt numb even as unhinged fury burned and threatened to overtake her. She had tried to save her sister… how…
A voice, again, not belonging to her sister nor anyone else she knew.
"I can see why she's stayed with you this long," it said, gruffly. "Both just as damn stubborn."
Malenia snarled. Show yourself, she thought, her mind befuddled. How had her house collapsed? How had Jeyne…
Who had stayed with her? Who had done this? Who, who?
And then the voice spoke again.
And Malenia knew.
"Come back to me."
The hushed half-whisper was gentle, yet pained. It belonged to a woman; when ocean-blue eyes fluttered closed, beneath the billowing smoke and perpetually-collapsing hovel, Malenia could see her. The soft curls, dark as midnight, once braided into an elegant crown, were now faded and stained and wild. In the silence of the castle she inhabited, only her sobs could be heard, her face a broken shell, the tears having formed thin trails down her pale cheeks.
"Come back to me," the woman whispered again, and a shiver tore through Malenia.
Serana.
Rosy fingers shot out, desperate, agonising, utterly fucking pointless.
She tried to reach the vampire, to hold her and show her that all was well—
But she was lying in that bed. She was in Serana's arms…
…she had died.
Others came and went from the room, as her disembodied sight struggled to make sense of it, from somewhere high above, there but not there, unable to make Serana see. There was Agmaer, Isran, a young Dunmeri mage with a curious gleam in her eyes, but none of them could comfort Serana.
Against herself, Malenia growled. Who was the unfamiliar Dunmer? She had better fucking keep away.
Serana was hers.
The world shifted.
The tattered ancient bed dented, then collapsed, Serana drowned in the inky-black waves that now poured unrelenting, and all of the faces of the Dawnguard morphed into sickly apparitions with tentacles and gnarled claws.
Malenia felt herself floating closer, until she faced the reflection of her own corpse.
Rosy lips parted—
And the body spoke.
"Dragonborn…"
Fear threatened to engulf her as recognition settled. The long tepid drawl was not her own, but that of the Daedric Lord of Fate, Hermaeus Mora. As if knowing her horror, the corpse twitched a smirk, the eyes opening only to be swallowed in an endless blackened void.
"The Tyranny of the Sun has been ended," said Herma-Mora, "and so too has your life. A pity. A mercy."
Who gave a fuck about her life? The redhead glared at her reflection; the tears soaking her rosy features were surely only the Daedra's doing. Her own life had ended long ago; it didn't matter; it was good; it was—
Serana. "No… no." Serana laying there, clinging tightly, desperately.
She could never abandon her.
Malenia tore her sight away from her own twisted visage. Her chest had been ravaged open by a Vampire Lord's claws, and small, almost delicate pin-pricks dotted the nape of her neck. Aside from that, the void was near to blinding. She could spot nothing at all in this realm, nothing save for the black oceans and an expectant, almost smug gaze upon her.
She had died. But death could not be permanent. There had to be something she could do, a plan, some sort of deal—
"Deal?" Hermaeus Mora's laughter was deafening. "Oh, my dear Dragonborn, I like deals…"
Was the Daedric Lord infesting her thoughts? Bleakly, Malenia could feel a presence worming its way in, defiling, corrupting.
Shaking her head, her scarred fingers shot out then grasped her reflection by the throat. Yet when she tried to choke the life out, bruises merely formed on her own throat, and it was she that was left gasping.
"If only such a thing were still yours to give away. Do you not remember? The dragons of the Forgotten Vale — you needed my help. You pried open the Oghma Infinium. Power does not come without a price."
"Power?" Malenia scowled. Back then, she hadn't known just what she had thrown away. She had thought only of Vyrthur kidnapping Serana, and of the overwhelming need to save her. "I wanted—"
"Wants do not matter, Dragonborn. Only outcomes."
Fine, thought the bristling redhead, swallowing her grief, her bitter failure.
Whatever damnation awaited her here, she was willing to meet it head-on. She would not cower. She would not beg.
"Do whatever the fuck you want."
"I desire only a single outcome," said Hermaeus Mora. "Life, death… such pitifully mortal words. What are they to such as we?"
Malenia wondered whether she should have spat into her own face, now grinning, those soulless eyes growing ever darker with each put-upon blink. "Speak fucking plain for once. What do you want?"
The Daedric Lord paced around, feet stepping on formless ground. "Our wants align more than you know. What is it that so many have begged of you? The Jarl, the monks atop the Throat of the World, that bristling Breton woman… they all wish for the defeat of the World-Eater." Herma-Mora laughed, then. "But do not think of Fate as merciful. Life, feeble and short life…" He spat the word as if it were venom-filled. "This, I shall not grant. But a reprieve? Only long enough for you to fulfill your purpose? Perhaps."
Reprieve. Malenia wanted to slam her fist into the woman sauntering before her, and throttle her until they were both reduced to corpses.
She didn't care what Hermaeus Mora's designs were, why a Daedric Lord was bothered by Alduin, and didn't care in the slightest.
Ocean-blue eyes narrowed. Malenia's voice was a threatening growl. "Just what makes you think I can kill Alduin?" She had been felled by a damned lowly coward, hiding away in his dreary castle. "I couldn't even kill… I…"
"It is your fate."
Insufferable fucking demon. Her patience — and her cooperation — was at an end. "Maybe it's my fate to kill you."
The foreign-yet-familiar redhead in front of her laughed haughtily.
She— Hermaeus Mora craned His head, and His drawl was tinged by a certain nostalgia. "Such spirit. Such bravery. Few are dim-witted enough to stand up to a Daedric Lord. 'Tis a shame that you are not long for Tamriel." He paused, waiting, then said, "The choice is your own, of course. Say the word, and you will return to the dream, to your sister and your hovel. Ignorance, perhaps, but blissful. Or…"
Ocean-blue snapped closed as tears flowed anew. Malenia's chest tightened.
That choice had been made long ago.
It was no choice at all.
The damnation of Apocrypha would await her, she knew. An endless servitude to Hermaeus Mora, a mere plaything, her soul thrown away — but not before she laid eyes on Serana.
She had to see Serana. One last time.
Malenia faced the Daedra and spoke. "Send me back."
Her visage nodded slowly, deliberately, smiling all the while. "Do not dally, my dear Dragonborn. And tell none of your return, least of all that vampire of yours. It shall be our little secret." Herma-Mora raised a rosy scarred finger. "Save your questions. There is a priest; he will claim to have resurrected you. Allow him his glory." The Daedric Lord turned. "His reward shall be grand."
The life seeped out from her eyes; rosy pale skin cracked and splintered as blood flowed and covered her neck, her chest—
Malenia screamed.
She felt her head spinning, the groans escaping her in short gasps of agony, the verdant swirls blinding. Daggers plunged into her heart, eviscerating whatever remained of her rotted right hand, her heart sluggishly staggering into a steady beat—
And then she felt herself laying down.
A light brushing sound filled her addled ears. Ocean-blue eyes struggled to see. Summoning the dregs of her power, Malenia pushed herself to sit up, feeling her stitched and healed though no-less mangled chest lurch in protest.
The brushing belonged to a broom, held by a blonde hunter who cleaned in slow and meandering strokes. He had not seen her at first, but the redhead knew who he was.
Agmaer.
Their eyes locked for a brief instant — and then the coward turned and fled, screaming.
Malenia craned her head. This was not a full life. Hermaeus Mora had clarified as such. This was temporary. And she intended to make the most of it.
She swung her legs over the edge, her feet meeting the beyond-time wood and willed herself to stand.
A single name slipped her lips.
"Serana."
Notes:
*screams*
Chapter 4: Dawn
Notes:
Happy Valentine's Day!
To celebrate, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Serana was running.
The rustle and slight scrape of leather against stone filled her ears as she moved through the dim corridors of Castle Volkihar. Whatever malign energies still lingering from the Soul Cairn were ignored entirely, for she felt only the warmth creeping up her pale face, the steady persistent thud-thud of her vampiric heart.
She rounded a corner, passed through the long hallway by the chapel and Father's former quarters and the alchemist's laboratory—
And then reached her room.
The door was already open.
In one still moment, her sight adjusted to the gloom of the room, blinking tiredly and squinting. When her eyes finally slid to the quivering figure moving restlessly from the bed, Serana's breath hitched.
Ocean-blue eyes were bright and tear-stricken and alive, locked intensely with glowing crimson.
Serana's voice escaped her as a tremoring whisper. "Mal…?"
Were the Ideal Masters toying with her thoughts? Had her senses abandoned her entirely? It could not be, it could not be…
Malenia stood in the darkness, her armour shed. Her greaves were gone, as was her cuirass. In the dim, only her gentle gaze could be seen, and the arch of her small nose and lips.
Serana didn't know which of them had moved first, nor did it matter, only that they were together at the foot of the bed. Those rosy cheeks were wet with tears, and Malenia too seemed in disbelief.
She didn't know how. It didn't matter.
Impulse seized itself before she could stop.
Serana pressed a sudden kiss to Malenia's mouth.
Their lips brushed, and she could feel the sharp gasp of breath that came. She felt the scattered scalding breath against her, the strangely snowy but still hot scent — the one that Malenia uniquely possessed — engulfing her entirely. She shivered. Malenia's breath was light and caressing and real. This was no vision. She was here. She was hers. The mortal sat frozen, body stiff and upright in their embrace.
Then, just as abruptly as it began, Malenia pulled her lips away, baring her teeth with a soft resounding hiss.
Crimson eyes fluttered open, swooning and heady as she stared into the calming yet swirling oceanic glow of Malenia's fierce gaze. She opened her mouth, yet found herself at a complete loss for words.
She felt her stomach roil, a flush of shame burning in her cheeks. She'd pushed it too much, she'd gone too far—
Malenia stood. She lowered her eyes before averting them completely. For an instant, she looked almost guilty.
Confused.
Terrified.
The door slammed shut, trembling on its hinges.
Fear gripped the vampire in its dreaded claws, and the waves threatened to engulf her once again. She curled her hands into the bedcovers, sharp ragged nails cutting through the silk into her own palms. It took everything in her to resist the urge to hunt for Malenia.
Was this not what Malenia had wanted? Was it all a lie?
Pale fingers lightly grazed; Serana felt her own lips, the forbiddenness of it, kissing the light of her life—
And the kiss being left unreturned.
Her own feelings did not matter. Serana knew as much. So long as Malenia was alive… s-so long as…
She pushed herself to stand. Through the knot tightening in her throat and by-now thundering heart, she craved the feel of those sweet lips again.
She had to find her mortal. She had to know.
The delicate familiar scent proved easy to follow. Sobs escaped her as she moved. Idiot, she scolded herself mentally, wishing beyond all hope that Malenia had not departed the castle entirely. She had suffered too much, waited too long, only for it to all come crashing down on her now. She passed by the assembled Dawnguard, then shoved ajar the tall wooden doors leading to the courtyard.
Dawn had come. Sunlight shimmered through the branches of what few trees remained, reflecting from the rusted and decrepit moondial, and the rays tore a wince from her, but she could not bring herself to be bothered.
Malenia paced the grass, bare feet already visibly reddened by the chill, and she was crying.
"Don't," she grumbled, wailing, "don't. You can't… we can't."
How desperately Serana had missed that silky voice. Crass and blunt but still so very reassuring and lovely and sweet. Can't? Serana couldn't hear it. With wavering aching arms, she braced herself, red-rimmed eyes half-lidded as she stared at the woman that stood so close.
The redhead's own eyes dipped down briefly to spot soft yet parched pale lips before she met Serana's gaze again, grim.
Wordlessly, she leaned in, or perhaps Serana had come for her, but then those lips were on hers again.
The mortal's hand came up in a rush, fingers twining into the dark, ruffled braids of Serana's hair, caressing her scalp gently as she tugged her closer. Serana gasped, trembling so very badly that she knew her knees would've buckled were she not already weightless in the other woman's despairing possessive embrace.
She could scarcely even think of that as she melted further into Malenia's arms with a desperate all-consuming need for touch.
A thrill ran through her when she felt Malenia lean into the kiss.
The past weeks did not matter, not anymore, not—
Malenia's head drooped so that it rested against her own, their foreheads touching. Trembling hands slithered up the redhead's arms, brushing softly against her skin, her shoulders, before relaxing against her rosy cheeks.
"Serana…" managed the mortal, her voice a low breathy rasp. "You have no idea what you're doing."
Was that a good thing? The vampire's throat worked awkwardly, as if struggling to remember how to swallow. To speak. She licked kiss-swollen lips and pulled away slightly.
"I'm—"
That was all she could say before Malenia swept her in for another kiss. Soft fingers slid down from her hair only to rest on her cheek. Serana managed a feeble little sound, feeling Mal's thumb tenderly stroking her face.
Their lips moved together, their kiss deepening with each passing moment.
A ragged sigh tore from her parched throat as she threw her arms around the other woman's shoulders. Malenia's nails bit and pinched into her skin, where her cloak had been torn apart, but that only thrilled Serana more. She groaned, a hungry sound from somewhere deep within as she felt a soft tongue slipping against the dangerous edge of her fangs; it pressed just so against the needle points.
She tasted blood. A vicious moan rumbled in her chest.
She found herself hauled into Malenia's lap. She straddled her eagerly, hands stroking over every bit of bare skin she could find; caressing the small of her mortal's back, scraping her touch over it.
Doubt gnawed at her as sharp gasps escaped Malenia, and blood filled her mouth. Yet as if knowing that thought, Malenia only grasped tighter with a hushed hasty murmur of, "Stay."
Serana hummed, unwilling to find the strength to pull away. She held Malenia against her, shivering every so often when Malenia swept her tongue gently over the slow crawl of blood that pulsed still. Her own fingers raked through long scarlet curls, thoughtless and soothing, the tips tracing over the strands before feeling the beyond-scarred and ruined throat.
So long since she had fed, so very long since she had tasted this particular mortal's blood…
Those scarce few drops were nowhere near enough.
"Mal," she voiced softly, rising to meet gentle teary ocean-blue eyes. The woman before her was strong and warm and vivid and real.
Her gaze dropped to the redhead's scarred neck in silent question.
Instead of a reply, Malenia leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss on soft thin awaiting lips.
The vampire blew out a timid breath. She glanced away, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. Malenia lived, and likely could not afford to lose any more blood.
And she resolutely refused to let her suffer any longer.
She would not lose her again.
Sighing, Malenia stayed in place. "Do it. At least something to tide you over," she murmured. "Fucking hells, when have you last fed? You're a mess."
Serana gulped. Talking. They were talking. Her and Malenia, after so long, now, she…
Leaning away again, she said the redhead's name in a trembling sob, only to be shushed.
"Let me do this." Whatever grief haunting Malenia still lingered, yet there was something else there, a longing, a deep yearning. "For you."
Serana grasped the bare wrist that rested on her shoulder, the frantic thrum of a pulse beating under her fingertips as she stared at the flushed mortal's face. "It will hurt," she warned.
"I can handle it," promised the light of her life, trailing gently along Serana's jaw to guide it closer. She reached up and brushed her hand over Serana's cheek again, skimming tenderly over the deepest gashes. Her eyes were almost half-lidded, but her jaw was set, stubborn as ever.
It was like rushing waves in her ears, the growing pound of a hale vibrant heart as Serana traced her tongue over the delicate vein. She felt a hand start to stroke over her shoulder, whispering beneath the tattered leather and blouse, sliding along the corded line of her neck and clasping over the nape of it. Her ears flicked, flattening as the hand dared to travel upwards.
A visceral shudder ran through her, and her purrs turned to low ravenous growls. Her grip tightened, pulling Malenia further as she opened her mouth, fangs extended.
Her eyes blazed like enflamed coals, embers of endless depths.
She sank her teeth into tender flesh.
"Ser—"
A sharp cry rose from the redhead's throat, but was swallowed down immediately afterwards.
The first spill of warm, rich blood sliding down Serana's throat ignited the same consuming need within as it did before, the familiar taste of Malenia burning through her with each little moan and sigh the other woman made. She drank and drank, pulling back once then once again when she began to feel the skin on her cheek knit together, but the hand on her shoulder tightened and urged her mouth back into place.
"Not yet," Malenia insisted, though in its breathlessness, her tone was less adamant and more desperate.
Some faint part of the vampire was aware of it, a fragment of amusement curling in her core as she lapped her tongue over the pale skin of Malenia's throat. A new scent rose in the air, cutting through the mixture of sharp copper and bitter ichor; the vampire's nostrils flared at the heady sweetness of it.
She wove her free arm around Malenia's waist, pulling the woman even closer. She kept her mouth secured on the running flow of blood from the wound, but her hands focused on sliding down over the thick fabric of Malenia's burgundy blouse.
She reached then guided herself, 'till she had one leg pressed between Malenia's thighs.
Malenia groaned. "Serana."
A broken moan resounded from the vampire, who felt herself swooning.
"Serana…"
She pulled back with a heave, fangs bared and eyes unseeing in their unholy fire. Blood ran in thick rivulets down her chin, a gory smear of glistening red that stood stark against her pale skin, and Malenia reached up, seemingly unthinking, to swipe it away with her thumb. Red-rimmed eyes tracked the line of the mortal's hand, the haze of blinded lust clearing just when that hand cupped her cheek again.
They were sprawled in the grass now, soundly curled up — Malenia lay flat on her back with Serana atop her. The vampire braced herself, stare ablaze as she looked down at the other woman.
Her mouth moved to speak, but no sound ever came.
Her lips found Malenia's again.
The intimacy of it cut through her more than any pain possibly could. The hesitant touch and stroke of Malenia’s tongue, the gentleness in the press of her rosy lips. It tasted bloody, like heat and ice all at once, and when Serana pulled away, the air misting between their panting breaths, Malenia wrapped long slender arms around her shoulders and held her close.
It was a battle against her every conceivable instinct to lean in for yet another kiss. She stayed there instead, feeling the golden leaves of dawn raining gently all around her, sweltering crimson gaze locked onto the woman before her. Malenia was here. Malenia was alive. Malenia… Mal was…
The mortal brushed her touch against the vampire. She pressed a kiss into Serana's palm, nuzzling her skin and breathing in the familiar scent of snowberries. Sliding her fingers up along the bare skin of Serana's scarred and scorched forearm, she cradled the delicate limb as she pressed a line of open-mouthed kisses along her wrist, until she reached the heavy necromantic pulse of life beneath pallid skin.
"I missed you," said Serana in a murmur, breathless, her heart still thudding, her mind still not accustomed to… this.
Being close to Malenia. Adoring her. Kissing her.
Whilst tears flowed anew down rosy cheeks, she bit down hard on her lip, stifling her impulses.
She felt the muscles in the mortal's stomach flex and became acutely aware of the resonating heat of her own body, of her thighs pressed tight to the other woman.
After all these weeks, her shivers were finally at an end.
Malenia cooed, moving to tuck an errant strand of ebony hair behind the vampire's ear. Cerulean eyes were aggrieved beyond measure.
And Serana shattered.
Her chest heaved in waves of grief that poured out of her, the terror of having lost the woman she cherished more than the world itself; she buried her face in the still-softly bleeding crook of Malenia's neck, feeling terse yet tender caresses.
"I'm sorry." Her voice came in an incoherent teary ramble. "I couldn't protect you, I failed, I—"
"Shhhh…"
Her chest made an odd fluttering sensation, and Serana was quite certain that part of that grief had dissipated. She managed a wry smile, her eyes drinking in the sight of every fresh pin-prick on the mortal's neck. She knew of the endless canyons of scars awaiting her beneath that tunic and blouse. She'd had the chance to look for weeks, when Malenia had been clasped stiffly in her arms, but hadn't dared. Not if Malenia hadn't allowed it.
Now…
The redhead snapped her eyes shut and sighed inwardly.
A whimper escaped her.
"Serana, I…"
"Don't talk." Much as she wished to hear it, Serana knew better than to ask. Than to push, now of all times.
She didn't know how long they spent lying there. Malenia stroked a light and careful hand over her neck and back, the touch beyond gentle; the movements like those of muscle memory. She rubbed and swept the hair back from the vampire's face, wiping away the cold sweat that beaded on Serana's skin.
Rosy lips pursed at some point, when the sun was beyond the towers and shadows had overtaken the courtyard. Ocean-blue eyes fell to the ragged state of Serana's garb, ripped, torn, pale skin scorched in places and pockered with the stains of magicka and sword strikes. Fingers slid to touch the darkened bruises and scars.
"You know I can't stay," Malenia said quietly, unwilling to so much as look.
Dread carved into Serana's heart. She leaned into the redhead's touch, allowing it to cradle her. "Shut up." She had long since stopped caring for bitter-cold reality. This was all that she could handle.
They both fell quiet again, and the thrill of their kisses started to fade.
Serana grimaced, her expression crestfallen. "Do you regret it?"
A shift. "Regret what?"
"Coming back. Being out here." Her eyes fluttered closed as tears slid off her lashes. "Me."
All at once, she was crowded back against the thatchy grass, body tense as warm fingers reached out towards her—
—and gently cupped her cheeks.
"Idiot," Malenia hissed, thumb stroking over the healed faintly scarred skin of the vampire's cheek. Her eyes trailed down Serana's face like a cold caress, lingering on her lips before she leaned in and kissed Serana hard. It was desperate and delicate; relief and anger amidst the scent of sweetness — of blood and infernal burning breath and something otherworldly.
A low noise rose in Serana's throat again, less like the hungry snarl of a rabid creature and more akin to the affectionate purr of a sabre cat. Dark brows lifted high and she floundered when Malenia pulled away abruptly, cupping her cheeks still. "What—"
The look on Malenia's face was reproachful. "Why do you fucking have to be like this?"
"I — I didn't mean to frighten you," said Serana, staring in confusion. "What are you…"
She hates me. Serana swallowed, ashamed. She is afraid of me. I should've never kissed her.
But then why was Malenia so very—
As the sound of encroaching footsteps reached her ears, the vampire sighed, her pale brow creased by a frown. Her teary gaze shot across the courtyard as a glare at the two intruders; her mother, joined by Falion. Malenia's groan mirrored her own feelings. This was their moment, their…
"So it is true," said the eccentric priest, clapping his hands tightly together. "The Dragonborn lives."
Dragonborn. Serana glared harder. She knew just how much Malenia despised that monicker. "Do not call her that," she warned, her touch whispering over the vambrace she found until she felt bare rosy skin.
When she glanced up, she saw the mortal staring with a nonplussed expression.
"Who the fuck are you." Malenia seemingly caught herself, then swallowed her planned insults. "You're the priest."
Falion nodded. "Indeed I am. And as I understand it, a quest awaits you now. Best not to dally."
That only produced more questions. Being in Malenia's arms, their bodies flush together, weightless in Malenia's careful, tender, covetous embrace, kissing her… Serana hadn't taken the time to think of just how exactly the redhead had come back to life.
In the end, Mother had proved useless. The incursion into the Soul Cairn had been for naught. Falion, then?
Why did he seem as though he were hiding something? Why was Malenia not rightfully calling out the priest for this?
Serana sighed, crimson eyes shifted upward. Dusk had come by now; the night fell black and moonless, but for once the sky was clear. What was she missing? Why so many secrets? And now, after everything, she was still kept in the dark.
She doesn't trust me.
Valerica craned her head lower. She looked better now; in the short hours since her emergence from the Soul Cairn, she'd changed into a fresh tunic and blouse, and her hair was tied into a tighter bun. "I kept them out of here for as long as I could," she explained quietly, "but that grumbling Redguard — all of them — they have questions. About her." Her sweltering gaze landed on the redhead.
"Questions can wait." Serana's voice came warbled. The blood had still not yet settled in her stomach, and the aches and terrors and burns of the past weeks remained. She could not handle this.
She needed Malenia.
The mortal stood up slightly, her arms folded in derision, her cerulean eyes narrowed. "What else do you know?"
Falion queried a faint old smirk. "Alduin, the World-Eater of legend! You've spent long enough denying it, running from it, but it is no use. You must face Fate." The way he spoke that word caused a shiver to run through Malenia. Serana placed a hand on her thigh as the Priest of Arkay kept on rambling. "Though I am afraid I haven't the faintest as to the dragon's location. This hunt, we all entrust to you."
Against herself, Serana mustered a scoff. "What fucking hunt?" How could Falion know so much? There had been no mentions of Alduin of all things. Even the confusion swirling on that rosy face seemed feigned.
Lies. More lies.
The vampire faced Falion. "I know you saved her, I…" Questioning the one who had breathed life into Malenia seemed ill-fitting, but curiosity, and the terrible need to know, burned still. "But what does Alduin have to do with any of this?"
"Do not ponder it, my daughter," said Valerica. "This is bigger than any one of us."
Falion nodded along with her. "There are forces at play out there, you see, and they wish to see the Dragonborn living."
Serana scowled. "I thought Idgrod wanted to see that."
"Though you will need help," said the elderly priest, entirely dismissive. "You cannot brave it alone." He jabbed a gloved finger in Malenia's direction, pointed downward. "You live, yes, yet that wound needs tending to. It will need constant cleaning, and perhaps the glow of Restoration at times. Much as I myself would rejoice in seeing the World-Eater's demise, I must return to Morthal. You will need to find another."
At that, Malenia truly did appear enraged. "I don't fucking need another. I need nothing."
How agonising it had been without the redhead's silky-smooth voice, and her crass yet lovely words. Serana blinked as tears built in the corner of her vision. It still seemed like a dream.
Malenia was here.
Mother glanced between the two of them; thin lines of frustration were clearly etched on her brow, but she had not yet commented on the nature of their… friendship.
Serana did not want to put a higher name to it than that.
Perhaps one day…
"I presume you have a plan?" asked Valerica.
Malenia's expression was an impassable glacial wall, though her thundering heart betrayed her anxiety. She nodded. "There is a woman. Awful fucking crone. Her name is Delphine. She knows about dragons and the Thalmor, and… I have a history with her."
Serana let out a cough. She'd heard the name before, and it was a cause for endless infuriation. Just who was this damned Delphine? What history? Where exactly had Malenia been before their reunion amidst the smoking embers of Fort Dawnguard? Months had gone on since then, but Serana still lacked the full truth, still didn't know.
Helpful or not, if this Delphine so much as thought to tear Mal away from her—
"Then you must make haste," said Falion, turning. "Alduin shall not wait for you, and so you mustn't hesitate."
Malenia huffed. "Fuck off then. And you—" She glared at Valerica with sharp eyes full of accusation, "—what gives you the fucking right to show your face here? After everything you've done? Consider yourself lucky that your head isn't on a spike right next to your beloved lord."
The elder vampire blinked. "I am her mother—"
"Just go," said Serana. Her glance pointedly landed on the tall doors leading to the inner court; Harkon's chambers had been scarcely touched since his demise, beyond the Dawnguard having pilfered his various artifacts. Valerica would likely wish to go there too. "Please. We can talk later."
Though as she watched her mother and Falion leaving, she wondered only if that was true.
What was there left to say between the two of them? Mother had betrayed her, entombed her — were it not for Malenia and Agmaer, Dimhollow Crypt would still be her prison, even now.
Were it not for Malenia…
"You didn't have to speak to her like that," the vampire told the redhead, softly. Some slim part of her feared that if she raised her voice, she might have shattered this illusion. It felt fragile. One blink, and Serana half-wondered if she'd awaken in that bed again, clinging to Malenia's corpse, or elsewise trapped inside the Soul Cairn with the Vigilants of Stendarr giving chase.
"I meant it," said Mal, her growls melting into a gentle hush when Serana approached. Sweet rosy lips hovered close to Serana's forehead, and Malenia's voice was now a murmur. "She's the one who should watch her mouth."
Serana managed a light little smile. Even that was unreal. How long had it truly been since she had genuinely been happy?
Were it up to her, the two of them would've stayed here forever.
But damning reality always crashed into her, sooner or later.
"I should go soon." The mortal pulled away slightly. "You heard Falion too. The longer I wait, the worse it'll be. I have to find Alduin."
"We. We have to find him, Mal."
That earned a scoff. "Will you just fucking stop? Your father is dead, your mother is here, you are safe. Why ruin that? What the fuck is it?"
Serana could only shrug. The truth seemed obvious enough to her, but then again, Malenia had always been rather clueless. How else could she make Malenia realise it? How else could she make her know just how much she… she…
"Someone has to look out for you too."
"And it just has to be you?"
Please stop.
Serana grimaced.
Please stay.
She trailed her touch along Malenia's forearms, grazing lightly along the legions of scars that dotted the mortal woman's skin.
I love you.
"Yes," she said resolutely. "It will always be me."
And she would never allow any harm to come to her again.
"I hate you," Malenia spat. She scoffed—
Then she beamed, flushed slightly. She pressed a kiss to Serana's lips.
The vampire's lashes fluttered, and she returned the kiss with equal gentleness. A pleasing thought wandered into her mind, spreading over the taste of Malenia's mouth, the touch of her skin, her hair, the ocean-blue eyes that looked with a subdued but no-less intense longing. It was slow and deep, far softer than their past kisses. Serana heard the other woman take a sharp breath, felt the rush of air against her lips as she melted against the awaiting embrace, her hand tangling in the long scarlet curls.
When they pulled away, Malenia wore a reluctant broken smirk.
Fangs poked out from Serana's grin, still bloodied. "I know. I hate you too." She nuzzled her face against Malenia's, then planted the delicate touch of her lips to the redhead's cheek. "Don't you dare ever leave me again."
I couldn't resist sharing this lovely artpiece of THEM!!!! Credit to magwayenxx on Reddit!
Notes:
This chapter is dedicated to Talvi, the most amazing and wonderful woman in the world. The fic wouldn't have gotten here without you. Thank you ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
Chapter 5: Bliss
Notes:
This chapter is being posted on the 2 year anniversary of the series!!! Thank you so so so much to everyone, you are the reason the story has come this far and these two morons have finally managed to get here! Thank you ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
Malenia cupped warm water in her palm and let it fall softly down her side. As per Falion's instructions, she was to keep the wound on her abdomen clean and tended-for at all times, even when it fucking hurt. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps, her scarred fingers grazing along the ruined skin.
She stared, and she fumed.
Fucking hells, but this was pathetic.
Allowing a Vampire Lord of all things to best her was one thing; dealing with the consequences of claws ripping and tearing and savaging through her was another.
She was weak. She was a wreck.
She had seen the bruises on Serana's hands. She'd utterly fucking failed to protect her.
What had happened to her sister… what had almost happened again…
Ocean-blue eyes stared at the empty space around her. A part of her reeled still from the suddenness of the courtyard; at the frantic and pulsing thrum of need still buzzing, the phantom memory of Serana's touch still burned into her flesh, burrowing deep.
Malenia waved her hand across the water with a splash.
It had been a mistake.
Hermaeus Mora had granted her life, a second chance at seeing those gentle crimson eyes again, drowning in fantasy, those hands trailing so very gently along her own bare rosy skin—
The redhead grimaced. It was all damned complicated, now.
Why had she returned the vampire's kisses? Why could she not stop thinking of them?
Idiot. Fool. Weak. Pathetic. She'd been well aware of her own… feelings, for lack of a better word, towards Serana. The soft pale lips against her own, delicate yet razor-sharp fangs nibbling across her neck, the feeling she obsessively craved. She knew, fucking Oblivion, she knew. But so what? What did it matter, when their time together threatened to be cut short at any moment?
She lathered a soapy hand across her arm. Castle Volkihar's baths were lavish, though ancient — Malenia cast a side-glance at the overbearing large tub she sat in, the seemingly endless soaps and lotions, a dingy little alchemical laboratory in the corner, and the stone floors covered in towels and plump rugs. With no lanterns to be found, she'd made do with candles, spread out around the length of the bath.
Malenia could barely even enjoy it. Not with all of these thoughts.
It had been a mistake.
She knew that now.
Whatever blissful afterlife she might have shared with Jeyne, unaware of bitter reality, she had cast aside in favour of seeing Serana one more time. To make certain that Serana would survive. But now Harkon was slain, Valerica out from the clutches of the Soul Cairn, and Serana was safe. Safe.
Why did the vampire endlessly insist on shattering that?
Pull yourself together.
Malenia tore the smirk from her face. She'd meant every word, a few short hours ago in the courtyard. She hated Serana, hated the way the other woman made her feel and these weaknesses and fragility and—
The knock on the door startled her.
It was soft, almost hesitant, and a cause for her fucking frustration. If some vampire hunter, Isran or Agmaer had intruded upon her, Malenia would mount his head on a spike, she would hurl his lifeless corpse over the edge of the castle and into the Sea of Ghosts, she would annihilate—
"Mal?"
Serana.
Malenia's throat suddenly went parched; she swallowed shakily at the sound of that gentle voice, then mustered a near-hushed, "Come in."
It was only after the words escaped her that she regretted them. She stared down. She was in the bath, why had she said that, why had she allowed—
The door opened. Serana's face was already flushed, pale mixed with delicate pink, but her smile was sweet. She carried a bushel of blue mountain flowers, accompanied by the faint clinking of one or two vials buried somewhere in her leather garb.
"How do you feel? Any pain? Any… side effects?"
Malenia tsked. She knew perfectly well what that meant. After their reunion in the courtyard, Serana's fangs embedded softly into her neck, the droopy light-headed feeling had settled in almost immediately. But she hadn't wanted to even see a vampire hunter today, so had refused to take any of their damnable cure potions. And now, hours later, she felt nothing at all. Maybe it was her dragon blood preventing her from turning.
Or maybe it was because she was already dead, and none of this made any fucking sense at all.
"Don't bother," she told Serana, grimly.
Ocean-blue eyes drifted down to her own body, bare and soapy and scarred. It wasn't the first time Serana had seen her in a state of undress like this, so why did she have to care?
Stupid. Stupid.
Despite herself, Serana smiled. Pale gentle fingers reached to grasp rosy ones as she settled herself on the rug next to the bath. "We'll leave at first light tomorrow," she murmured, her voice shaking slightly. "After that—"
Malenia snorted. "We?"
Serana glared. "Yes, we. I spoke a little with Isran; he says that Delphine owns the inn in Riverwood? So we could start our search there."
Seeing that infuriating Breton was the last thing Malenia wanted to do, yet it was their — her, last resort. Delphine had sent her into the Thalmor Embassy in search of a source of the dragon threat. That had proven precisely fucking useless. Delphine was clueless too.
Yet she still knew about Alduin.
And the World-Eater had to be defeated and soon, before Hermaeus Mora grew impatient.
Before He tore Malenia away from… from…
The hand caressing her hair was soft and gentle, threading through each scarlet curl, so sweet—
Malenia's fingers curled, digging sharply into the taut muscle of her other arm. "Insufferable," she said, the word caught within the depths of her chest. She tilted her head, so that their breaths were one and the same.
"Am I?" Serana whispered. They were so close now that a dip of her chin would put their lips together.
The redhead's voice dropped just as low. "The worst."
"Hmm." The vampire reached out a hand, trailing the back of her fingers over Malenia's cheek, sliding them down to cradle her chin between two fingers. Red-rimmed eyes trailed from rosy lips to ocean-blue eyes, heavy-lidded and soft. "And what does that make you?"
Lashes fluttering, Malenia gave the other woman a tender smile. "A fucking idiot, obviously."
It was akin to a knife twisting into her chest, the phantom agony of ignited steel striking into flesh. The coy look on her face fell away, and the vampire's dark brows wrinkled in confusion at the sudden change.
"Serana." The seriousness of the tone made Serana stiffen against her, and the hand against her hair slid away. "I need you to stay. Just stay." She glanced sideward, gritting her teeth before levelling Serana with a grave grim look. "I just needed to see you again. It's far more than I fucking deserve, at this point. Now that I have—"
"Now you're going to leave. Why do we keep pretending?" Frowning, Serana met her gaze, unwavering. "Haven't we been through enough?" She said nothing else, but the look swirling in her eyes said plenty.
"That's fucking why."
"Because you—"
"Because I care." Malenia snarled at the admission. "You don't think I saw this?" She pulled the vampire's hand closer, eye-level, and ghosted upon the multitudes of bruises marring the pale skin. "You're hurt. And you can fucking deny it all you damn well want, but you can't be trusted out there. I can't have you with me."
The memory of those dreams still lingered; invading the castle, slaughtering its vampiric occupants — and then finding Serana's butchered corpse. She had taken Serana's place. Serana had survived. And that could not go to waste.
Large trailing tears slipped off her lashes, but the fury in Malenia's heart did not dim. How could she make Serana understand?
"I'm hurt when you leave me. You want to know how this happened?" Serana held her own wrist high. "It was Vingalmo. One of the surviving vampires; he said he met you, even. I don't know how that happened and it doesn't matter, but he tried to kill me. He almost did." Her delicate jaw locked, tersely. "I almost let him. Why in Oblivion not, when I didn't have you, when you keep insisting—"
Malenia grabbed the wrist and yanked.
She pulled Serana into the bath.
Red-rimmed eyes blinked hazily, settling on their surroundings as warm soapy water sloshed over the edge and onto the ancient wood. Serana's face was flushed and her garments now ruined, and her hands fumbled wildly to grip onto the edges of the large tub, but none of that mattered when Malenia pressed a soft kiss to her lips, glancing in a whisper.
"You talk too much," the redhead murmured, silencing the vampire with another little peck.
Serana returned the kiss deeply, desperately, her back arching as she wrapped her arms around Malenia's shoulders and held on tight. Nails grazed along bare scarred skin, descending down Malenia's back and robbing the redhead of her air.
She managed a thin smile. "Don't stop."
"Never." Serana kissed her harder, and the clothes clinging to her were suddenly all wrong. "Never…"
Rosy fingers brushed against the straps of the leather tunic. Malenia froze herself. She shouldn't, this was too far—
The straps untangled.
Malenia gave the other woman a burning look. She lovingly planted a kiss on Serana's forehead, her hand still coiled into the soaked leathers as she asked, "Good?"
Serana nodded, her movements wobbly and restless; and grateful. No-one had ever cared for her own thoughts. No-one had ever cared to ask. "Good," she mumbled.
When the vampire's arms lifted high, Malenia never hesitated to pull the tunic and the shirts over her head—
Then felt her mouth watering in anticipation.
She pulled back to admire the sight before her. Serana was spread out, pallid skin flushed and chest heaving, her arms marred in dark welts and bruises. The discarded clothes gave way to small breasts with nipples the shade of dusky pink. She tossed the by-now ruined leathers off to the side, forgotten.
"Serana," Malenia rasped, and the vampire visibly shivered. "You are..."
"Don't just look."
Malenia's touch slid eagerly along the soft skin of the other woman's bare waist. She stole away the gasp that came from Serana's mouth with a kiss, leaving her mark with open-mouthed brushes against cheek and chin and neck. She bent to remove Serana's boots, one and then the other, and kissed the top of the vampire's delicate foot. The trousers went next, yanked away as both women fumbled to rid themselves of the damnable thick fabric, then the cloth of the undergarments.
Not enough. Not enough.
"Mal— Oh…"
Rosy lips worshipped a path from Serana's calves to her thighs then over her chest, gentle kisses that came with scrapes of teeth and suckling bruises. She traced patterns around the tight bud of Serana's nipples, feeling them strain against her again as Serana arched into the touch and keened.
Though breathless, Serana's own hands kneaded and stroked with the softest whispers of fingernails ghosting along Malenia's back, her thick red curls.
They slid up to find the throat marked by both old-and-new faint pin-pricks. Malenia shuddered when she felt the tiny wounds being stroked again, but then felt the wet tip of a tongue and the drag of teeth—
"May I?"
She eagerly nodded at Serana's question. Only a short few hours had passed since the last time she'd fed; she likely did not need anymore blood, but why should that matter?
This was not necessary. This was only for them.
"Yes." Please. Malenia endlessly craved the feel of fangs tearing through her skin, threatening to boil into obsession, and were it up to her the two would never part—
"I'll be gentle," Serana soothed, sliding her hands in a caress. "Always."
Malenia's breath hitched. Her heart stopped.
The muscles in her stomach and thighs went stiff, trembling, and it was all that she could do to hold herself still. Her legs gave way and she collapsed, safe and snug in the vampire's cold embrace, feeling beyond-tender fingers cradling across her scars and bruises and faded burns.
Serana hummed against her skin, and Malenia felt herself being pulled even tighter, flush as the cool, damp mouth latched against her neck.
"Insatiable," Serana purred, nibbling along the shell of her ear. "Most mortals are not supposed to enjoy this, you know."
Malenia bit back a whine. "Shut up." She was no fucking thrall, and she was not enjoying anything, nothing at all, she—
She shuddered as Serana's hand drifted lower, and she slipped her own over the other woman's. A sharp tingle of pleasure bloomed as the fangs embedded themselves tighter again, deeper; thin lines of red trickled down the length of her shoulder. Malenia gasped. Serana's tongue darted out, licking tenderly until the blood had been cleared away.
She drowned in the gentle caress of Serana's fangs that pulled away only to latch again and again, her tongue, the slight scrape of her teeth, the way she could allow herself to fall entirely weightless in the vampire's embrace.
Her chest heaved when the fangs retracted, her lungs desperately taking in great gasps of air — but she managed a thin pinkish smile.
She turned. Ocean-blue eyes met sweltering crimson, heady and sated yet also so very tender and… loving.
"Malenia…"
The sound of her own name said in such a low sweet tone caused an ache to form deep within. A heavy-laden weight threatened to crush her chest; her very soul.
Malenia grimaced.
How could she ever tell Serana that she… that…
Instead of words, she lowered herself further into the embrace, feeling Serana's arms holding her. Scents of lovely snowberry and coppery blood and sweat all mixed in together. Rosy lips curved into another contented smile. They did not need to speak. So long as they laid like this, Malenia needed little else. So long as she had Serana—
But nothing this good lasted forever. Malenia knew that more than anyone.
Bliss would be torn away from her.
And she could not bear it, could not bear losing her…
"Does this mean you'll stay?" asked Serana after some time, having finally found her voice.
"No." Ocean-blue eyes snapped closed. "It means I need to leave. Now more than ever."
Before I hurt you.
The utterly unbearably soft arms wrapped around her bare body tightened. Malenia felt lips gently suckling on her shoulder. The more she allowed herself to enjoy this, the more she drowned in fantasy, the harder it would all be.
She heard the indiscernible sound that marred the vampire's expression. Rosy lips blabbered incoherently. In an exasperated sigh, she said, "Serana. If you come with me, if I see even a single other fucking scar on you—"
A heartbroken sob tore from her. The mere thought of Serana hurt…
"You can't die. You're not allowed."
Serana's tone was mournful. "I've already died."
"What are you—"
"When you were laying there, in the chapel…" Tears slid off her long elegant-yet-ragged lashes. She pressed a lingering kiss to Malenia's shoulder yet again. "I don't know if I could describe it. But after everything you've done for me, all that we've been through… and you died, Mal. And I couldn't breathe without you."
"What the fuck have I done? Put you in danger, maybe. You wouldn't have needed to face Draugr and those Dwemer metal monstrosities and fucking dragons—"
Serana quieted her with a light peck on the lips. "And you say I talk too much." Pale fingers squeezed the other woman's shoulders, bringing up the right wrist and stump where a hand had once been, then leaned for the barest whisper of a kiss. "You're here now," Serana soothed. "I'm not letting you go."
Malenia wailed and raged and tore and screamed against the icy walls threatening to shatter her whole. She shifted slightly then held Serana. Serana, who had always been there for her. Serana, who melted into the embrace without question, who held her back just as desperately, the soft near-silent cries mingling together with her own—
I'm not letting you go.
The redhead's heart thudded faster at those words. Serana had always meant every word she'd said.
I'm not letting you go.
But Fate would.
What would Hermaeus Mora presume? The Daedric Lord was prickly at best, and had entrusted Malenia with a quest. And once the accursed thing was done, once Alduin was slain…
The horrors of Apocrypha could wait. They had to. Malenia craved something else entirely.
I'm not letting you go.
"Then don't." She found herself hating the way her voice trembled. She could feel the acid-like burn of tears in her sight as she spoke, the pain too fresh and far too sharp. "Please."
Serana's response was immediate, her hold protective. "Never."
She buried the heat of her tears in cool skin and nestled her face in nape of Serana's neck, breathing in the familiar lovely scent of snowberries and lavender.
The sound of the vampire's sobs wrenched the redhead's heart. She could not fucking bear it. "Shhhh," she cooed, for what precious little good that did. "Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."
Serana gave her a wobbly smile. "I don't much like it either."
"Then stop." Malenia held her tighter.
"Then stop giving me a reason." Soft pale fingers ghosted along rosy shoulders, drifting to grasp the small of Malenia's back, where they held on gingerly, yet surely. Serana pulled back slightly, burning red-rimmed gaze meeting ocean-blue. "Whatever it is, whatever we have to deal with, I… we'll find a way. I will try to be reasonable, most probably fail, and then you can go on stabbing untill it stops moving. That's worked for us so far, no?"
How can I stab a god?
Malenia suckled gently on the soft skin she found, and managed a faint preening smirk at the gasp she heard.
She distracted the thoughts of Daedric Lords and Fate and her own impending doom with thoughts of the vampire in her arms. Her teeth grazed along the golden chain of the amulet Serana wore. She'd seen it before, the glinting sapphires and the carved battered likeness of a Divine, but had thought better than to ask, or to remove the piece of holy jewelry. The amulet — the Amulet of Mara — was new.
Just who did Serana intend to marry?
"When exactly did this start?"
Warm water rippled as Serana shifted herself. She gave a shrug. "When I went into the Soul Cairn. Do you remember Brother Skeld? Him and his Vigilants? They followed us, and…" Her pale brow winced, as if reminded by the pain of the partly-healed wound in her shoulder, where a silver-tipped bolt had struck. "Skeld wore an Amulet of Mara. Nothing else brought you back, so I thought the Divines were my last resort."
"You prayed to them?"
Serana shook her head. "I don't even know any vows. I thought wearing it might be enough." Her smile was small and gentle and sweet. "Looks like I was right. And if you must know—"
"Whoever the fuck it is," Malenia started, growling, "I don't fucking care. You can go marry whoever you want."
If she were to guess, Malenia thought of the Dunmer woman she'd glimpsed in her dreamful afterlife. That woman was somewhere in the castle. And if Serana had somehow fallen in love with her, some woman that she had only just met, some woman instead of her—
Serana tilted her head, her crimson eyes looking curiously. "It's good that dying hasn't made you grow a brain," she said. "We wouldn't want that."
"Calling me stupid now, are you?"
"Not stupid, only… clueless."
Malenia kissed Serana's forehead then lingered there, her voice dwindling down to a whisper. "You're the clueless one here, vampire."
She buried her face into the wild tangled mess that were the ebony curls, the sweet lovely scent engulfing her senses; she shuddered as careful hands wandered along the length of her abdomen, leaving wet trickling trails in their wake, then heard Serana chuckling in approval.
"You're a mess."
Malenia pursed her lips. "You're one to talk." What had once been the braids formed into a crown atop Serana's head had turned to disheveled strands, and where the hair had nearly ended at the vampire's shoulders, it now reached near to her back. The crimson eyes boring into Malenia's soul with hunger and desperation and… and something else entirely, were scarred along the edges, and Serana's arms were crusted and scarred. "I can't fucking trust you alone."
With a wince, Serana shrugged, another shy smirk passing across her features. "I'm not alone anymore," she murmured, then reached for the soaps stacked on the edges of the bath.
After giving each a careful once-over, and deeming only one or two to be in good enough condition, she lathered the bars along Malenia's shoulders and then her neck and forearms, covering the redhead whole.
"When is the last time you've had a proper bath?"
Malenia huffed. A proper bath did not matter, not when she'd spent most of her time hunting in the woods or stalking some contract in Cyrodiil. Not when her own body ached and throbbed and she once feared that she might have come undone at any moment—
But that time was long past.
She was not in Cyrodiil anymore. She was in Skyrim. She was here. She was safe.
And now she had Serana.
The warm water was a great balm against her skin, as were the fingers washing through her hair and digging out the specs of dust and dirt accumulated over the many months spent on the road. Not even their brief time in the springs of the Forgotten Vale had been enough.
"It's been a while," she admitted, glaring at Serana. "Been even longer since I've had a bath in a castle."
Serana blinked. "This is not your first?"
"Could be that I once had a contract to murder some noble in her fancy castle. Could be that I needed a bath after."
"Kill someone in their own home and you didn't even have the dignity to leave right after? You're awful."
"I am—"
Serana reached for a cloth and soaped it. "We can't help it that you don't have a sense of humour." She smiled, largely to herself. "No more murdering."
The redhead clicked her tongue. "Spoilsport."
She leaned into the touches eagerly, sighing at the hand braced against her neck as the cloth scrubbed at her skin. She arched herself to the side helpfully, humming and sighing amidst the misting heat as the dirt and dried blood cleared from her body. Against the bare skin of her shoulders, she felt the chill of lips pressing. It was instinct to twitch; to pull away from such intimate caresses, and yet she could not quite bring herself to move.
Curling her hand into a fist at her side, the redhead forced herself to scowl. "We can't keep allowing ourselves." It was much too good, too perfect.
She did not deserve—
"Don't say that," Serana replied seriously. Then her crimson eyes softened, and she spoke in such a low and gentle whisper it made Malenia's ears shift. "I… don't mean to force you. If you do want us to stop, please just tell me."
I'll hurt you. She could not bring herself to speak those words. And even still, even when the pain was clear on her face and allowing this to continue would only break Serana further when the Daedra ripped the two away — even then, Serana was sweet and caring.
Malenia tugged the other woman closer, resting their foreheads together, their breaths mingling in the misty air. How long had she dreamed of this moment? Through the months spent with Serana, all that they had endured, longing to hold her close, to kiss her and to love her…
The kiss she felt pressing against her lips robbed her of her air, the warm and tender touch feather-light and hesitant, as if Serana still intended to ask for permission.
Malenia kissed her back just as sweetly. She melted into the embrace, reaching to slide her hand along Serana's chest and up the vampire's neckline only to trace the bolt-formed scar in her shoulder, half-healed but still fresh. She felt the press of a tongue against her teeth and gladly allowed it, deepening the kiss when she heard Serana whimper softly and their hold on one another growing evermore desperate.
She had been away from this for far too long, and she would not lose Serana again, Daedra be damned.
Serana was hers.
Pale fingers clawed at her back insistently. "Mal…"
"Mmmm." Malenia pulled away, her gaze flicking from the vampire's panting face before trailing mouthy kisses down Serana's cheek, tilting to press another to her jaw. "Don't talk," she murmured, finding the sensitive skin of Serana's throat. She may've lacked the fangs, but even her teeth were enough to make Serana gasp.
She felt Serana shudder as she wrapped herself tighter, straddling the vampire; water lopped around them, the warmth pleasing enough, Malenia thought, if only because she could ignore the growing wetness between her thighs.
She moaned softly as she lowered more, pressing the faintest kisses along the unmoving pulse of the vampire's neck and latching onto her slender shoulder.
"If you need me to stop…"
"Don't," Serana growled, breathless, then shook her head. "Not… not yet."
The growl soon died down to a crooning purr, as Malenia worked at her skin, lapping against the aching scars. She planted kisses along the tips of each finger, then suckled gently on one. Vingalmo deserved a thousand-more deaths for this. For hurting Serana. She kissed and nipped and sucked; her eyes gleamed with a wicked glee at the soft sounds rumbling from the vampire.
Settling into the space, Malenia reached out and cupped one small soft breast, ocean-blue eyes flashing when Serana's breath hitched again. The rosy pale nipple against her thumb was stiff and cool, and Malenia trailed her touch over it delicately.
Serana gulped. "That is…"
The redhead trailed her tongue over Serana's chest, tugging herself lower, smirking, lapping her mouth over the gentle lines and bumps. "Shhhh," came her voice in a whisper, moving for another mouthy kiss.
"Oh..."
Moaning quietly, Serana leaned her head back against the edge of the bath, her pale hands curling into fists around the edges. She gave in easily to the myriad kisses and touches, but when rosy red lips moved below the line of her chest and stomach and meant to move even lower, her body went rigid, her legs closed, her muscles suddenly tensed and braced.
Malenia hesitated, pulling away just enough to glimpse sated yet still needy red-rimmed eyes. "Stop?"
For a long moment, the other woman said nothing, staring with a heaving chest over her nose. Malenia felt a rush of worry fill her heart.
Stupid. Stupid.
She had overstepped again—
Serana's hand snatched out, grasping hers.
"I… yes." She chased the redhead for a slow, deep kiss, sighing against the soft lips when Malenia's arm came to band around her waist. She managed a wry smile. "I'm sorry."
Malenia shook her head. "Don't be."
"I didn't want to take things too far, not if you don't want…" Serana pouted at herself, cinching her jaw tight. "I don't think I'm ready. Not for that."
Scarred fingers rested against the dip of Serana's chest, sliding and palming the swell of the chill skin there, tracing an idle pattern with her thumb before pushing back upright. "You don't need to be. I can wait." That Serana had been willing to do so much was already enough for Malenia. She would never force her to go further.
The vampire's tone was reluctant. "What if…" Her pallid frame shuddered, aggrieved and terrified and tormented by the thought alone. "What if I'm never ready?"
"Serana."
"If you'd rather not, if you'd rather find someone not so pathetic, I can unders—"
"Serana."
Malenia kissed her.
As she always seemed to do, Serana melted into the sweet embrace and returned the kiss eagerly.
"Call yourself pathetic again and we're going to have words. I can wait. I don't care if it takes a week, a month, a fucking year…" Malenia forced a little shrug. She felt the frenetic undead thrum of Serana's pulse beating under her fingertips as she stared at the woman's face. "Or we could just not. I don't care." Only a little. She yearned to feel all of Serana, the two of them locked in one another's arms, their bare bodies flush together—
But never if Serana did not want it.
This intimacy, whatever in Oblivion she could call it, was entirely foreign to her. To both of them, she reminded herself. She had lived a lifetime without Serana by her side. She could not, not anymore, not were she to cause her any pain.
Serana brushed her touch against her cheek. "Awful liar."
"Insufferable." Malenia wrapped her own fingers over the vampire's. Her eyes fluttered closed at the tender strokes against her chin, at the lips rising to meet her own, and smiled contentedly.
This was enough. It was more than enough.
And when the two held each other this way and Serana whispered a wrenching, "Thank you," in her ear, she only held the other woman tighter.
It was a good long while that she lay there, lost in the endless crimson swirls of the vampire's eyes, illuminated in the faint candlelight, committing to memory the details that she had seen every day for months now. The soft dark curls, framing a gentle yet refined and elegant face, pale but also flushed, the small nose, the thin, sweet, tender lips that she craved the taste of even now…
Hermaeus Mora would rip it all away one day. Eternal damnation in Apocrypha was all that awaited Malenia. What blissful afterlife she might have gotten, she had instead thrown away for this, and regretted it none at all.
She had seen Serana. One more time. And that was better than any dream.
"Water's getting cold," said the vampire eventually, her voice a whisper.
Malenia hummed. Death was restful, she allowed, and were it up to her she would have stayed in this bath for the rest of the night, but Serana seemed beyond exhausted. Whatever she had gone through these past few weeks alone… the thought made Malenia tremble. She let her nose fall in the long black locks atop Serana's head and pressed a trailing line of kisses. "I'm not keeping you warm enough, is that it?"
"You are," said Serana, "but…"
"But?"
Pale cheeks flushed a brighter pink. "I'd rather do this in bed." She laughed a little, what she could muster with the weariness tainting her every move. "Remember the Forgotten Vale? We said we'd share a bed, from now on."
"Oh, did we?" Malenia pretended to think. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I agreed to share a room."
"Mmmmm." The vampire shifted then stood, tsking when the redhead's eyes locked onto the glistening length of her chest, then cast a wayward glance at the crumpled heap that had been her leather garb. "Now what am I supposed to wear? You ruined those."
"Bite me."
"Oh—"
Malenia blushed too. "That's not what I—"
By Oblivion, she was fucking hopeless.
When Serana extended a hand, Malenia accepted it, their fingers twining gently, allowing the other woman to pull her up. She threw a long scarred arm snug around the small of Serana's back as the two stepped out of the bath. The ancient wood was chill under her soles, but undeterred, the redhead marched out of the bathroom, then made for the door of the bedchamber.
Piercing crimson eyes followed her. Serana stared incredulously. "You cannot mean to leave."
Malenia grabbed hold of the nearest drawer and yanked, until the old dusted furniture toppled over in front of the door. Something hard rattled inside, but she didn't care whether she had shattered it, whatever the thing had been. "Can't have anyone interrupting us tonight." If one of the vampire hunters thought to snoop on them, or Divines forbid Agmaer showed his hideous fucking face, Malenia's already-frayed temper would've unraveled.
She didn't want anyone other than her vampire.
Serana grinned as she fumbled about with the clothes in the closet opposite them. "Awful," she said again, amused.
Even after the passing of entire centuries and the fighting between the Dawnguard and Harkon's blood-crazed minions, Castle Volkihar retained a certain elegance. Draperies hung in the blackened windows, burgundy embroidered with patterns of gold, and tapestries that hung on every wall.
Malenia glanced at the bed. It was large and plump and soft, but not quite as soft as Serana's—
"Come here."
She looked up. The weight of the day seemed to descend upon Serana all at once, her shoulders slumped and weary, but the dark blouse she wore was much more fitting than the leathers pilfered from some butchered hunter. In her hands she cradled another blouse, a red one tattered at the sleeves but no worse for wear.
The redhead quirked a brow. "What? I don't need your clothes."
Serana met the gesture. "You've been wearing those dregs for months now, Mal. And you've fallen into a lake, gone through caves, you—" Her voice caught; she choked down a breath, and managed only a murmur. "You died in those things. Don't put them back on."
Gently, she was coaxed closer, cool and tender hands wrapping about her shoulders and resting over the nape of her neck.
Malenia leaned in. It wasn't as though it damn mattered to her whether she wore her old bloodied robes and tunic or Serana's spare blouses and trousers or some torn potato sack. Her rosy features twisted. "I didn't take you for the superstitious sort." I am the one haunted by demons. "And what was it I said about calling me Mal?"
"Mal." Serana sent her a soft glare. "Please?"
Wordless, Malenia lifted her arms over her head and felt the silken fabric covering her, ending just below her ragged abdomen and hiding the mangled mess that was her scar. The phantom smell of honey blossoms filled her senses.
How was it that the vampire's scent lingered, even after what was probably entire centuries?
"Better?"
Malenia did not answer immediately. She sank onto the bed and frowned, aware keenly of the tears prickling at her eyes. Pathetic. She did not want to ruin this moment, between them. She did not want to worry Serana.
Serana rolled over onto her stomach, watching where the redhead was settling the pillows against the headboard. She said nothing as she crawled up along the bed, tugging the heavy-laden covers back and slipping underneath them. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Malenia who lay on her back beneath her, before slotting herself into Malenia's side.
"This is nice," she murmured, nestling her head onto Malenia's chest and splaying a hand over the other woman's shoulder.
She said nothing else, even as another question was plain on her face. How could Serana understand?
Malenia blinked away her tears. Wearing these clothes, their bath, holding Serana close… she could not bear losing it all, even as she knew and dreaded its inevitability. Her arm came around Serana's back, her fingers stroking through the vampire's silken locks. "Then sleep. You need it."
"So do you." Serana pressed a kiss along her shoulder and settled into the embrace.
It was not long before her breaths calmed and her pale lips parted slightly. All these weeks of suffering had taken their toll, but she was safe now. Malenia would make certain of it.
She would protect Serana against the world itself, if she had to. She would sacrifice her own life a thousand times over, if only to make Serana more comfortable.
A heavy sigh carried her to slumber. Malenia allowed herself a smile as she held Serana closer. Her chest raised, lowered—
And her heart stilled to deathly silence.
Chapter 6: Secrets and Lies
Chapter Text
The first thing that Serana noticed was the warmth. The plush heavy blankets wrapped around her, the faint smoke and scents lingering from the candles of the night before — and she became increasingly aware and delighted at the presence she knew laid by her side.
Vampires, she had once been told, were not so weak as to be affected by the elements. Sweating in the heat, shivering in the cold, these were mere weaknesses suffered by mortals, and most-definitely not her. The scions of the night dominated over the lesser, Lord Harkon had taught, unaffected by petty sensation. But Serana could feel the chill of death, what she had grown bitterly used to in the short years since her turning, the warmth she had forgotten…
…and the warmth she had found again.
Malenia had always felt calm and soothing to the touch, and ever since Dimhollow Crypt, Serana had accustomed herself to a perpetual mortal presence and the way those rosy fingers lightly clasped over her cold own, or, more recently, to soft radiant lips meeting hers and jolting her vampiric heart into beating anew.
And the touches whispering over her pale skin. And the fingers tangling in her hair. She and Malenia embracing, their breaths mingling in the steamy soapy mist.
The past weeks of suffering had vanished. Being in the redhead's strong yet gentle arms had dissipated the grief entirely.
She peeled herself from the furs slowly, taking her time, savouring the moment before they would depart the castle again. She'd never been as far south as Riverwood before, close to Helgen and Cyrodiil beyond, and she hadn't the faintest as to what would be greeting them down there, but it didn't seem quite so bad. Not if Malenia was with her.
On the other side of the bed, Serana spotted the mortal laying on her back, her arms stiff across the length of her own abdomen. With a smile, Serana tilted the woman's head her way.
"Mal," she murmured, her tone sing-song, teasing. Not even in a century she would have ever guessed that she would find herself here, in her own bed, joined by the most beautiful woman in the world.
Is this just a dream?
It all still seemed unreal. From the clutches of death and the Soul Cairn to safety in Malenia's embrace. The fight against Brother Skeld, rescuing her mother, the myriad kisses and the bath. And all in a matter of hours.
If it is, the thought came again, then I never want to wake.
Leaning in, pale lips pressed against the small, heart-shaped and rosy nose they found.
Malenia never stirred.
Serana managed a sleepy grin. For all of the redhead's talk of being a careful and vigilant hunter, she'd always been a heavy sleeper. It was lovely to see, just as it had been many moons ago when the two had first met. Not that Serana would ever tell her that. Of course.
Her cold hands cupped the slumbering face, light caresses that always caused the mortal woman's nose to wrinkle adorably—
And found it just as cold.
"Mal." Serana's tone was rougher, now. She will be mad at you, the small voice of her thoughts said, don't wake her like this. But Malenia still never moved, never breathed.
Her touch dared to move lower, dipping beneath Malenia's blouse and finding the mangled scars.
"Mal. Please. Mal."
The vampire's breath quickened. The sleep cleared from her red-rimmed eyes. A low scream spilled pale lips as memory flooded; she found herself inside the bloodied chapel, sitting on the cold stone, holding Malenia's corpse, fearing, dreading.
Was it all a dream?
The bliss of that thought was gone. Serana's hands grasped the redhead's shoulders — who never moved, never offered any crass words, had never lived at all.
Falion's spell, the sweet kisses…
Serana's vision grew blurry.
How much of it had been real? The neck that only a night before had pulsed so rapidly, vivid with the strength of life, was now still and chill and dead. Whether the vampire was imagining it, she couldn't say, only that even the stench of rot reached her nose. Had she lost her mind entirely?
Had Malenia always been dead?
Please. Her voice had given out, strangled by the grief revealed anew, the bliss shattered, the light of her life extinguished. Please.
"MAL!"
Crimson eyes widened, then snapped shut as tears slid off them in trickles.
Her heart crumbled—
And then she found herself drawn closer to the woman under her, to the ocean-blue eyes that were now open and startled but still real and there and alive, and all that Serana could wonder was whether she still held any semblance of sanity.
She spoke in a careful whisper. "Malenia?"
The mortal stayed silent, but the fingers that found the small of the vampire's back were so ravenously desperate that Serana gasped. Malenia's breath came in short puffy gasps, and her embrace so crushing that Serana's lungs struggled for air, but she could not bring herself to care as she returned the embrace with equal ferocity. She didn't care if this was still a dream, if none of it had truly happened at all, if… if…
Her sobs turned to wheezing, eventually, her restful sleep torn apart and replaced by an exhaustion that seeped into her very soul.
Serana pressed her head into Malenia's chest, willing herself to feel; to touch; to smell all the lovely scents that confirmed to her that Malenia yet lived.
"Talk." Even the lone word caused a shudder. "Talk. Talk." Talk to me. She held Malenia even tighter, willing that the two would melt together, if only to keep the mortal safe.
Please. Please. Please. Please.
"I…"
Malenia caught herself with a wince. But it was still enough. Serana's cries escaped her shakily; she clung to the woman and shoved away whatever demons or Daedra were toying with them and with her head and the dreams and nightmares and resolved never to let go and, and, and—
The rosy lips meeting hers tenderly confirmed their reality. Serana sighed into the kiss. She moved her palms in a ghostly touch across Malenia's neck, pressing to feel the harsh, thunderous pulse.
Malenia was here.
She was alive.
She was real.
When the two pulled away and red-rimmed met deep and piercing ocean-blue, Serana noticed the spots of black and green tinging Malenia's eyes; they were faint, yet unmistakable. Daedric, thought the vampire, grimly. But which? Molag Bal was her first venture, and for a brief moment she feared that the bites a day prior had somehow damned Malenia to Coldharbour, despite the passing only of hours.
Not Him, then. Boethiah? Vaermina?
Through the months they had spent together, the Daedric Lords hadn't been much of a bother. Father had damned himself and Valerica, and in turn her, but the other Daedra had never played a large role in Serana's mind.
Malenia shook her head, as if knowing the other woman's mind. "Serana," she mumbled quietly, "get up. We need to get ready to move, if you're coming, before it's too late." Her words turned to rambling. "Wraith should still be on the shore, we must move, we should be in Rorikstead soon…"
The vampire was all-too-painfully aware of these distractions. Valerica had attempted much the same, long ago, whenever she'd caught her daughter snooping about in the courtyard or in some darkened hallway that she was not meant to see. "Go off," she would say, "go practice your spells and your alchemy."
Even then, Serana knew what her mother had truly meant. Go away, I don't trust you to know.
She lowered her head just so, just enough to feel Malenia's forehead against hers, the warmth of life now overflowing. The mortal's breaths were calming even if ragged; she wished nothing more than to kiss Malenia again, as if satisfying her craving of those rosy red lips would somehow make it all better.
Harkon, Valerica, and now Malenia. No-one had ever trusted her.
"Stay?" The word was more question than statement.
Malenia frowned. "What—"
"Stay," said Serana again. "Please."
With another light sob, she reluctantly disentangled herself from the redhead's tender embrace and pushed to stand off the bed. The stone floors of the castle were icy-cold beneath her soles, but Serana could not quite bring herself to feel. Past her room and the chapel — now cleaned of its gore and turned into a supply room of some sort — and Lord Harkon's former quarters, 'till she stumbled upon the chambers that had once acted as Castle Volkihar's lavish kitchens. With its occupants' turn to vampirism, the kitchens had fallen into disuse, and now housed the Dawnguard.
Only one man was still abed in the late morning, and the very same Serana needed.
Falion.
The elderly Redguard was largely hidden under his thatched blanket, and his dark eyes quirked as he smiled. "Ah. I didn't think I'd see you without that other girl," he said with a chuckle, setting his spelltome aside. "I do hope you don't mind me staying in the castle a little while longer. It won't be too much time before I return to Morthal, now. How may I help?"
Will you tell me the truth? Serana waved away her grim thoughts and managed to not fall apart all over again, all too infuriatingly aware of the tears staining her pallid cheeks. "I had… questions."
One question. One she knew Falion would be dishonest in.
"Ask away," said the old priest.
"Malenia."
At the mention of the mortal's name, blissful remembrance flooded; Serana drowned in the fantasy of being in Mal's arms, kissing her, feeling touches and kisses descending down softly to her neck and chest, the redhead's gentleness and care, what she would never admit, then fading to sleep joined by her.
"How—"
And then she had been torn away from her.
"How," the vampire mustered again, "did you bring her back?"
Falion's brow became creased by a frown. "Now that is quite the question, would you not say? What is this burning curiosity? Could it be that this vampire does not believe in the mastery of lowly old Falion?"
Were Malenia here, she likely would've told the old man to shut his fucking mouth. And speak plain. And perhaps a death threat or two, if she were feeling kind.
Instead, Serana's mouth twitched. "Because I want to know." Before I lose her again. "And you will tell me."
"I see," said Falion. He smiled. "My, and how I thought your partner was the prickly one."
"Don't—"
Malenia was most-definitely not her partner, much as Serana could feel her own heart thundering faster, her fingers flying to grasp the Amulet of Mara still hanging loosely around her head, her mind conjuring a false world where she'd gently furl a ring onto a long scarred finger—
Malenia was a friend. One Serana cherished and hopelessly adored more than eternity itself, but a friend still. Nothing more.
Not… not if Malenia could not survive.
She tapped her bare foot onto the cold stone incessantly. "Will you tell me or not?"
"Well, I do fear it's not something easily explained. The ritual, put so… you were there out in the hall, and I did say that time was needed for it to take effect…"
"But it can't be the ritual." How could it? That elaborate setup was little more than a sham — Serana had cried over Malenia's corpse afterward, she knew, and then had gone through the veil of the Soul Cairn. She had assumed, at first, that Falion had simply attempted the ritual again, this time successfully. Now she remained uncertain. "You wouldn't be a priest in such a small town if you were this powerful."
"Accusing me, are you?"
Serana tsked. "You made a pact with a Daedra."
She still could not say which, but the way Falion's face shifted, the man's expression morphing to one of quickly yet not quite-so subtly hidden surprise, told her enough.
"And that's why it worked." Serana's glare hardened on the Priest of Arkay. Former priest, she amended. "You damned her."
Her hands curled to fists.
Falion seemed unperturbed. "So long as she is brought back to you, why do you care?"
Fangs flashed from parted pale lips. Serana took a step closer, fully intent on showing this smug priest just why exactly she cared—
"Don't fucking talk to her like that."
The vampire's gaze turned toward the door behind her, and the soft yet bristling voice she recognised. Malenia stood in the archway with her arms folded and her stance one of barely-restrained fury. Yet behind the glacial walls that she so often insisted on holding up to the world, Serana could see the subtle ways Malenia shivered, and the narrow crimson streaks running across her eyes.
"I was only answering her question," Falion said. "But the more, the merrier! Please, I'd be glad to tell you as well how I—"
"No you fucking will not."
The old Redguard quirked a smile again. "Oh, of course not. You shouldn't waste anymore time, after all." He sat up from his bed, his smile widened. "The World-Eater awaits!"
"And you," Malenia snarled, "are getting on my nerves. I don't care what you did. Get out while you still can."
Falion at the very least pretended to look offended. "I do apologise if I—"
"Fuck off," said Malenia.
"Fuck off," said Serana, at the same time.
Falion promptly stood, huffing as he did so, gathered his books and belongings, and scuttered out from the kitchen-turned-barracks. Serana lingered on the space where the priest had once laid — then turned, meeting piercing ocean-blue eyes fully.
Her hands found Malenia's shoulders, where they began to caress up and down, feather-light. Her voice was a gentle murmur. "Hey…"
"What was that all about?" Rosy lips glided across the vampire's forehead. Mal held her carefully, as if afraid to pull away; as if terrified. "You leave bed to talk to some stupid old fool?"
A reluctant smile stretched across Serana's lips. She couldn't help but grin, flashing her fangs at the other woman. "You don't know? You barge in and tell him to fuck off just like that?"
"You told him to fuck off too."
It felt good to do that, Serana decided. All of the learned pleasantries and courtesies, what did they matter? Where had they all led? Father was a butchered splatter, and she didn't think Valerica would play a large role in her life any longer. Not after Dimhollow.
Her family gone, the castle a ruin — only she remained.
And Malenia.
She held the mortal tighter, cradling the thick red curls in her palm. How long she had longed and yearned to do just that…
"Serana—"
"Shhhh…" Beyond the secrets, Serana had garnered enough; Falion was a swindler, and whether he had truly been the one behind Malenia's resurrection did not matter. And she could see Malenia's terror, the way the redhead looked with eyes wide with grief.
She had already gone through dealings with the Lord of Domination, and He was said to be the worst of all. What did it matter if she handled another Daedra?
"Come on," urged Mal, tugging back towards the chambers as her ocean-blue eyes shifted down. She licked her lips absent-mindedly, her toes stepping overtop Serana's before pulling away. "I don't like anyone seeing you like this. You're barely even fucking dressed."
"Jealous, hmm?"
"Jealous." Malenia scoffed. "Just how infuriating can you be?"
The vampire's touch scraped gently against the redhead's scalp as she pulled her closer, an approving hum in her throat as she opened her mouth and kissed Malenia. She felt the other woman's breath hitch before she returned the gesture, so very gently that Serana nearly lost control of herself. She melted into their embrace instead and trailed another line of kisses down rosy cheeks, first the left then the right, when they pulled away.
"Infuriating enough?" she asked, breathless, entranced in bright aggrieved cerulean depths.
Malenia kissed her one final time. "The worst."
Castle Volkihar was bustling with activity when the two left the kitchens; Durak and Isran had woken and practiced their usual crossbow aim, striking for bags and barrels where the death hounds had once been chained, and some other nameless vampire hunters who ambled sleepily about. In the stained glass windows, Masser and Secunda could still be seen, just barely, drifting under the edge of the Sea of Ghosts whilst the sun gently crawled up the sky.
Serana took a glance down at herself. After all those weeks spent in the garb of a dead hunter, the one killed by her, the feel of coarse rough leather chafing against her skin, calmed only by soft and gentle rosy touches…
Somehow, this was better. Herself.
For as long as that would last.
They found Agmaer out by the beach, fumbling with the rowboats. His brown eyes widened when the redhead approached; he stumbled and nearly fell over into the water. "Leaving already?" He nodded to himself then said, "Right, yes. I… I'm glad you're back."
Malenia sent him a glare. "Are you?"
"Of course! Why… w-why wouldn't I—"
"Gods, you're damn insufferable."
"Mal." Serana had her arms wrapped around the mortal's lean bicep. Her pack, overstuffed with potions and linens and what sparse few books she had decided to take from the castle's library, hung loosely over her shoulder. "Agmaer," she told the blonde hunter, "how would you like to join us?"
At the question, she could hear the redhead's begrudging sigh. At least they hadn't argued about it, but what else? She lacked skill in healing magic, and Malenia still had that awful scar across her chest. It would need constant tending — and bringing the likes of Florentius or Falion was out of the question.
"And go fetch Brelyna too," she said. "The Dunmer mage. Tell her it's an adventure. Tell her there'll be plenty to set aflame."
Malenia did respond to that. "Why the fuck are we bringing her? I don't need two healers."
"Why not? We'll be done with this quicker, if we have more help." A party of four, plus whatever they might find in Riverwood. Dragonborn or no, Malenia was hurt, and she could not hope to take on the World-Eater alone.
And in truth… a quiet part of the vampire hoped for the two other mortals to be the distractions. That would give her more time to focus on her mortal.
Whether it would matter to either of them if they saw her and Malenia in each other's arms, their hands twined, gentle fingers caressing thick scarlet curls, sneaking in kisses… Serana thought to abandon her shame about such things. If only Mal would do the same, she hoped.
Agmaer, who still stood there with a dumbfounded look on his long face, cleared his throat. "Oh, but is… do you think that's really a good idea?" His eyes instinctually shifted towards the redhead. "You're not going to kill me, are you?"
Malenia shrugged. "Only if you annoy me."
The blonde vampire hunter nodded, then whirled by the realisation that Malenia's reply was rather not very reassuring, then marched hesitantly back inside Castle Volkihar.
Serana nudged the other woman's arm. "You're not going to hurt him. Or Brelyna. We need their help."
"We'll see."
"No, Mal—"
A pair of lips found her own. Serana blinked, her red-rimmed eyes fluttering closed, and it was all that she could do to resist hotly smouldering temptation. "You can't just cut me off like that," she murmured.
"No?" Malenia kissed her again, her tongue moving gently against the vampire's fangs. "What are you going to do about it?"
They were still in each other's arms by the time Agmaer arrived with Brelyna Maryon following close behind. The Winterhold mage said nothing, save for an enthusiastic little wave and a frown when Malenia growled at her. The twin moons had fully disappeared when they reached the mainland; the Dawnguard had repaired the jetty, as well as added a stable and a sturdy wooden watchtower.
Serana nudged Wraith, stroking the mare's milky-white coat. "Did you miss us, girl? Did you miss Mal?"
"Yes, the horse missed me." Malenia tsked, but her touch along Wraith was just as affectionate. She mounted first, then offered her hand to the vampire, who accepted it gladly and allowed herself to be hauled up.
Once her arms wrapped around Malenia's stomach, the tension in her shoulder lessened, and her breaths slowed to a calming rhythm.
Agmaer brought out a tall dappled grey that he named Apples, which Mal had derided, calling the name uninspired and "utterly fucking moronic," and Brelyna named her own horse, one chestnut, Firebolt. "So that he'll be less likely to startle when I cast them," she explained.
They rode with persistent pace, Serana scarcely registering the sounds of hoofbeats and snorting breaths over the ringing in her ears. A strange unfamiliarity tinged Skyrim, now, after so many weeks spent inside Castle Volkihar. She held Malenia with a steady grip, one arm keeping the mortal wrapped tightly in a cloak that smelled steely and velvety, and of the chill and the earth.
Markarth shone from the jagged horizon by the third day. Agmaer suggested staying the night in the stony city, only to be rebuked by Malenia.
"We're not staying there," the redhead had said.
Brelyna nodded absently. "You'd have to be truly desperate to sleep on stone."
Agmaer shifted in his saddle. Apples neighed. "But it's still better than out in the woods—"
"Not Markarth." Rosy fingers found pallid cold ones, and held on gently yet firmly. "Never Markarth."
Even after so long, the memory of that haunted house of horrors, of the Vigilant of Stendarr and Calcelmo and the Thalmor and the voice, incessantly tormented Serana. As they rode by Rorikstead, in faint embers from a recent Stormcloak attack, she pushed the vile thoughts of Molag Bal deep within.
Other Daedra were the priority, now. Bright crimson eyes shifted towards Brelyna Maryon at some point, when they were on the banks of the White River along the borders of Whiterun itself. Wraith slowed to a trot in the ankle-deep waters. Brelyna had been a student of the College; what might she know of the Daedric Lords?
She settled herself closer in the saddle, her thumb stroking delicately over soft tightened knuckles. "How about we stop for the night?" Masser was resplendent in the night-sky, though Secunda remained obstructed by clouds.
"No."
"Mmmm." Serana pretended to think, her mind drawn to their first ride together. Some things never changed, it seemed, even as she felt Malenia's fist open and cradle her hand. The mortal's palm was marred by a long scar that ran from finger to wrist, the very same Serana had traced countless times. She could feel the pulse in the wrist. She still checked. Still had to make certain. "Remember Haafingar? Right after Morthal, on our way to the castle. You didn't want to stop then either. Did you think I'd run off with the Elder Scroll?"
"You were jumpy," said Malenia.
"And you still are stubborn." And lovely. "And awful." The vampire kissed the side of the other woman's head, staying over her ear a while. "We're stopping."
"Serana—"
"We're stopping."
She felt the warmth of the oncoming spring on her cheek as she hopped off Wraith. The smell of gleamblossoms in full bloom from the forest. The weight of a finely toned arm in her grasp that she nudged gently towards a clearing. Malenia grumbled wordlessly; she shot Agmaer a look as she walked past the dismounting young hunter, but still she moved with the vampire.
"I'll keep watch," offered Brelyna, gladly.
Agmaer shrunk into himself. "Shouldn't Malenia? She has the sharpest eyes out of us all." His hand flew to the back of his neck, where he scratched nervously. "When she and I travelled to the crypt, she spotted a bear way before—"
"No." Serana held the arm tighter. "She shouldn't."
"I'd tell you to stay up," the redhead told the timid man, "but you couldn't even startle a skeever."
The soft singing sounds of crickets filled the night. Brelyna set up a ward stretching from tree to pine tree, told Agmaer that while she would protect the group he'd be responsible for her, which sent him flushing wildly, then sat a short way from the dirt road.
"Awful." Serana brushed the fond smirk from her lips as she examined the packs strapped to Wraith's milky-white side. There were two foldable tents, and spacious bedrolls and blankets—
"Serana?"
The vampire turned, her breath catching at the raspy low voice. How could Malenia still reduce her to a mess like this? "Hmmm?"
Crystalline eyes never met her own, but Malenia sounded rather shy too, hanging the tent across a fallen tree and beating the pins into the hard earth with a huff.
"Don't need two tents," she muttered. "Come help me with this."
"Oh—"
Malenia turned. "Unless you'd rather… not?" There was a hint of desperation in the mortal's tone, as if she dreaded even the possibility that Serana might not wish to join her tonight. When no reply came, she tensed, the rest of the pack tumbling from her arms, and just as some crass insult bloomed on her rosy tongue—
Serana stepped closer. Pallid fingers found her face, cradling delicately, then kissed her softly.
"I'd rather," she said.
The tension lessened; the dread faded; Malenia mustered a smile.
The inside of the tent was cramped, thought Serana briefly when she entered, before she decided that it was just perfect for the two of them. She felt the same with the bedroll, unfurled onto the grassy knoll and straining in its wooly fabric as she settled herself down into it and held out her arms, in silent question to be joined.
From the corner of her vision, she saw Malenia shiver.
"I just…" Before she caught herself, Malenia held her hip and grazed along the scar sequestered under her golden armour. The heavy yet lithe plating came loose with a sharp click, then crumpled unceremonously. "Fucking hurts."
"Should I get Agmaer—"
"Don't you dare."
The vampire was up in an instant. Through the pain and the secrets and whatever they might find in Riverwood come dawn, none of that mattered now. They were here now.
She wanted sleep.
But she craved Malenia.
A bright blue orb of light illuminated their tent. Serana licked her lips absently as she drew closer to the mortal, whose hand hovered over the hem of her burgundy blouse. How badly Serana wished to touch her…
"Not Agmaer," whispered Malenia, her voice strained but also low and husky and terribly yearning. "Not Brelyna, either."
Serana grabbed hold of the fabric too. "No? Then…"
The blouse lifted higher and higher, revealing the mangled torso, blackened by magic and death where the Vampire Lord's claws had struck. Serana's mouth watered. She lifted higher still, beyond the shape of the redhead's small breasts and lithe shoulders…
Her cold hands cupped the soft warm face of her mortal, cradling it. "Does it still hurt?" She kissed the rosy red lips that she endlessly desired; the lips that she would never tire of, then felt a flutter in her chest when the kiss was returned just as carefully. It was slow and unrushed. They had all the time in the world, now.
Her tongue slipped in, joining the kiss. Mal tasted sweet, and warm, and cold, unusually but perfectly so and, and…
Malenia moaned. "Serana…"
A shiver slithered down the vampire's back at the sound of her name spoken in that silky murmur. She could only kiss Malenia harder. Strong long legs wrapped around her waist as they collapsed into the bedroll, entangled, entwined, sharp fingernails roving across the criss-crossing scars on Malenia's chest.
With a gentle touch, Serana cupped the other woman's breasts, earning another little moan. She found herself grinning at the sweet sound, the two of them kissing still.
Those lips mournfully left her own only to then move down to her neck, pressing lingering bites that left her shuddering and squirming.
"Oh. Oh."
"Hush," Malenia murmured breathlessly between kisses. "You'll wake the others."
Serana bit her lip, stifling a whimper as she felt her own belt come undone and her armour and blouse lifted, the long scarred fingers tracing the bare skin of her hips. Her clothes suddenly were a hinderance; she snapped red-rimmed eyes closed and imagined herself in the baths of Castle Volkihar yet again, her bare body flush against Malenia's, the redhead's soft kisses and caresses and teasing touches…
Teeth suckled on her neck, leaving marks. Serana's hold on the other woman dwindled and she fell deeper into the bear and fox furs of the bedroll, where she hid her face, in vain attempt to smother the blush dusting her cheeks.
Were it up to her, the two would've stayed here forever.
Malenia settled herself opposite her, her scarred chest still heaving, but the smile on her thin lips was lovely to see. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she said, her hand settled underneath the vampire's blouse.
"Just like that, mmmm? A kiss to make it better?" Sighing, Serana dropped her head back. The back of her hand moved outward, her knuckles gently moving across the mortal's rosy face; soft breaths tickled her pallid skin. Ocean-blue eyes were lidded and sated, if only just. "Thank you for that…"
Malenia forced a curt nod. "Hm."
"Hm?"
"You are just awful." Her next words were so very obviously unintended, for the redhead blurted, "I'm going to miss—"
Serana cradled her tight. I'm going to miss you. Those were the redhead's word, she knew, but did not care to hear them. "Shhh." Her left hand stroked through fiery tangled curls in long soothing motions. Whatever evils haunted Malenia would be dealt with. Serana made that silent vow to herself. She had come too far, suffered too much, to allow it all to crumble now.
No matter what the cost.
"I forget sometimes; how much you love the sound of your own voice," Malenia drawled.
Serana tsked. "I'm just trying to stop you from saying something stupid. You do that enough already."
"Mmm… insufferable." The redhead gave the vampire a careful once-over, blinking when she felt satisfied enough. She looked down then buried her face in Serana's chest, sighing dreamily. "Fine. Then sleep."
She shivered, a little sob escaping her before she could compose herself, and Serana could only tighten the embrace.
Some part of her whispered thoughts, telling her to stay the night. Don't sleep, it droned on and on without end, Don't sleep. Serana smothered herself in the darkness of her mind. Sleep might merely be a repeat of Castle Volkihar.
One blink and Malenia might be dead again. Yet she could not resist slumber for long.
In their bedroll it was warm, but in her dreams Serana felt the cold.
She blinked, dark brows furrowing. Where…?
It was a temple of some sort. Long winding hallways, the thunderous footfalls of an encroaching army. Her arms pulled taut, the scorching sun to her back and the dark clouds looming overhead. Arrows soaring through the sky, blotting out the light. Dragonflame. The stench of death and flowers cloying in her nose as she felled more of the wretched Thalmor that filled every room and every chamber. And at the end of the hallway—
"Serana?"
A woman, a Nord, with hair scarlet as flame, her crystal-like eyes brimming with tears.
Serana rushed to her, eager to be in her arms. She had endlessly dreamed of this; at times she wondered where the two of them might end up once the World-Eater was slain. A small home, perhaps, meant only just for them, and a cat or two or ten. They might take over Vyrthur's castle. A home at the frigid ends of the world. Unbothered.
She reached down for the woman's right hand, feeling rather strange about it, the lack of scars to it.
Her face froze; the ocean-blue of the mortal's eyes bled away into a dull grey before slowly filling with a voidless black-and-green.
"Mal?"
Rosy skin bled away to a haunting sickly hue, cracks of black mist spreading down her face like tears. Half of her beautiful face was eaten away by rot, the eerie half-grin of a corpse flashing a ghastly white. Her soft gaze gave way to whorls of unholy rage as she snatched Serana's wrist in her taloned fingers.
"There's nowhere to run."
It echoed, reverberating in the vampire's chest as the wail of a cry came from the redhead in front of her, who was more creature than human, who breathed in great gasps of sulfur.
The world crumbled into itself; the temple fell away to ruin; the razed lands of Skyrim—
The cold plunge of steel cutting into Serana's body, the blaze of agony that whited out everything else.
Dawnbreaker, the holy sword found within the depths of that mossy temple long ago, now lay lodged squarely in her stomach.
Red-rimmed eyes shot open, blinking away the blur of tears as she stared up into the grim face of the light of her life. She let out a shuddering breath, swallowing back something like a sob as she reached up with a trembling hand. It found the bare skin of Malenia's collarbone, fingers clutching tight, and Malenia reached up to cover it with hers.
"Breathe." The mortal's voice cut through something inside her, low and tense, but gentle somehow. Her hand then came to cradle Serana's face, the soft pad of a thumb brushing against the flowing tears running off the side of her face.
Serana choked down a breath; her lungs seized as she managed to whimper out, "Mal—"
"Shhhhh… don't speak. Just breathe."
Gently, she was coaxed upright, warm and strong fingers wrapping around her shoulder and resting gently over the nape of her neck. Serana leaned into the touch, breaths coming ragged still as she took a moment to will away the fading images of fields of fire and death and a hauntingly familiar face.
"What… I saw…"
You killed me. It wasn't the first time Malenia had lost herself to the demons festering within, yet…
Malenia's hand smoothed over her neck gently, the touch eliciting a shiver. "I know."
The vampire swallowed the bile in her throat; the phantom smell of rot. What had happened? Who was messing with them both? What in Oblivion was that dream? She met Malenia's gaze in confusion.
They hardly spoke for the next few hours. Brelyna Maryon rode first, Agmaer in the back, and her and Malenia trotting along the road slowly. Serana's touch never left the mortal. Whatever small comfort that brought, she was willing to give. Riverwood appeared along the river by midday. A little girl and a dog ran along, an aged drunkard sat sprawled on the steps of the inn, and inside the barkeep grumbled in recognition when he spotted Malenia.
"I r'member you. Don't wanna know," he said, turning away and pointing to a room. "Do what yer here for."
The room was innocent enough, given first glance. Malenia marched towards a bookcase, tore away the shelves then knocked on the back panel once, twice — then unfurled it, revealing a hidden cellar beneath.
It had been scraped clean.
Weapon and armour racks lined the walls, though they were all empty, now. A long table laid in the cellar's center; whatever had once stood upon it was replaced by stacks of whirled letters, half-torn, tattered. One stood out amidst the papers.
Malenia read aloud, "Dragonborn's location currently unknown. Cornered rat possibly located: The Ratway. Local contact startled. Rendezvous at the Bee and Barb. Extreme danger." She turned, her expression hidden beneath her golden winged helm. "The fuck's the Ratway?"
"…where rats go?" wondered Agmaer, earning glares from the group.
Brelyna plucked the letter for herself, giving it a once-over. "The Ratway is in Riften," she explained. "That's where all the thieves and scum hide, supposedly. And it's supposed to be filled with traps." She gave a little shrug. "Sounds exciting."
"Fucking Riften. More travel."
Riften. Close to Fort Dawnguard, where it had all begun. Where an Auroran's silvery axe had nearly ended Serana, and where she had been saved by Malenia.
They mounted their steeds outside the inn again, and rode eastward.
Chapter 7: A Cornered Rat
Chapter Text
Wraith moved along the path in a light yet persistent trot, her pale coat blending with the snow-clad pines of the forest. Serana had opted to take the reins; her crimson eyes were partly hidden by her leather cloak and hood. Not those dregs pilfered from some dead hunter. They belonged to her, the same clothes she may once have worn many centuries ago.
The vampire held the reins in her gloved fingers, and chill puffs of air spilled from her parted lips.
Malenia sat behind her, drawn deep in thought. Most of her face now lay hidden underneath her winged helm of gold, covered in a light dusting of snow as she rested her head against Serana's back, arms wrapped snug around the other woman's waist and middle. She could hear that Dunmer — Brelyna, was it? — and Agmaer at some point behind them, but she didn't much care if a bear found and mauled the both of them.
From Castle Volkihar to Riften. The journey had lasted whole weeks, and had taken the group across the breadth of Skyrim, and Malenia was entirely sick of it. The thought of seeing Delphine again made her sicker still.
And Serana…
Stupid. Stupid.
They had kissed one or two more times ever since Riverwood. By the time they'd passed Shor's Stone, the vampire had felt parched, though the fangs gently nibbling on Malenia's forearm hadn't felt anywhere near as wonderful as in her neck.
Each kiss, every touch and caress, every single little fucking show of affection, whatever name Malenia could give to… this, formed an ever-growing tightness in her chest. The scars still ached, though she hadn't told Serana, not until the pain became too great to bear. But she still craved the touches upon her rosy skin; the pallid yet ethereally soft lips meeting her own; the hands in her hair that soothed and sent her to sleep every night without fail—
"Are you awake?" Came a gentle murmur. When the woman behind the vampire hummed quietly in response, she said, "We should be there soon, I think. An hour, perhaps two."
Malenia sat up slightly, then sighed in annoyance. She was in no mood for being awake. Why did these thoughts keep invading her head? Why could she not just allow herself to feel safe?
She was safe. Comfortable and warm and sated in Serana's lovely presence.
So what in Oblivion was it?
The faint rumbling at the edges of her vision was her answer. Malenia had tried to keep even the name of the Daedric Lord away, knowing how totally in control He was, how little she could do to resist this insipid influence. That morning in Castle Volkihar… waking to endless verdant seas of ink, and to voidless pupils blaring into her very soul. Hermaeus Mora had never even spoken to her, not in the same he had before, but the Daedra's voice was heard still.
"You would do well to hurry." he had said to her, and Malenia could still remember her shivering. "The World-Eater's power grows, and your own only wanes. Time is of the essence. Hurry along, my champion."
Some stupidly brave part of her had spoken back, then. "I thought you were meant to be timeless. What a fucking joke."
"I am timeless. Your world is not."
"Then why do you care?" Why can't you let me be with her?
"We had a deal, Dragonborn. Benevolence, life, the scion of Molag Bal you have chosen as your companion… all these I can easily take away."
When the bleak nightmare ended, when Malenia found herself cradled in soft furs and even softer caresses… she could never tell Serana. Even if she had wished it, whenever Hermaeus Mora's twisted name was upon her lips, it was as though her throat tangled, refusing to speak.
"We're here."
Malenia lifted her head at the vampire's voice, then nodded to herself. Haggard gates and equally disheveled guards stood before them. Agmaer dismounted first, patting Apples's coat; Brelyna Maryon tugged at her own steed's reins; and Serana handed off the reins to the grizzled-looking stablemaster, hesitating as she took in his appearance.
"Watch her."
"Guard her with your life," Malenia cut in. "And make certain she has plenty of apples." She stroked Wraith's silvery mane gently, looking into her bright brown eyes. She turned to see Serana already at the front gates, arms folded.
"Mmmmm. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you care."
The redhead scoffed loudly. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I just can't be bothered enough to steal another horse."
Serana swatted her arm. "Don't say that. She's our horse."
"Hmph." She regarded the shifty guards, all her humour engulfed by irritation; did they expect a bribe? What might this Jarl Laila think if a few of her men showed up missing some limbs? Only more damned distractions. Angrily, she threw ten Septims into a pouch, then shoved it into the waiting embrace of a masked guard. "Come on," she told Serana, not caring to pull away when a hand slipped into her empty palm. "We fall behind and those other two idiots might forget about us."
"Do you not… want that?"
"What I want," began the redhead, looking about for Agmaer and the Dunmer mage, "is for this to be over already."
The letter found in Riverwood had mentioned the Bee and Barb; a large-enough tavern, it seemed, across from the bridge where a boisterous woman was hard at work scamming some poor fool out of his hard-earned gold.
The hold on her hand tightened, softly. "Do you absolutely have to keep that stupid thing on?"
Fiery red brows drew together; Malenia knew Serana referred to her helmet. "So fucking annoying."
"Fuck fuck fuck. Act nice for once. We're in a city."
And what a city it was. Despite Riften's close proximity to Fort Dawnguard, Malenia had never once ventured here. Rifted had earned its bleak reputation for thievery and misfortune, and a distinct smell of fish. Malenia hated fish.
Being seen by all the scum of this shithole didn't bother her as much as she thought it might; if some ass thought to get in her way, she'd make short work of them regardless. Letting go of Serana, she brought up her hand, deftly unhooked the clasp then pulled the helm off in one fluid motion. A gentle breeze ruffled through the long waves of flame falling down her back. She ran her fingers through it, raking out the worst of the tangles.
Ocean-blue eyes blinked in annoyance at a grumbling burly-looking man leaning against a post, who only grumbled louder when she ignored his horrid presence completely.
"This way," said Brelyna, her gloved hand pointing at the delapidated building in the center of Riften.
The Bee and Barb was shadowed in its cavernous inside; the fireplace was dim, sending sparkles this way and that, and whatever few patrons ambled about with tankard in hand and ale in throat. The innkeeper, a tall Argonian with scales the colour of the pale sun almost muted in the shade, and eyes nearly as brilliant as Serana's, regarded them warily.
"Here for a room or somethin' to drink?" Her reptilian lips curved to a coy smirk. "Show me some coin first."
Serana stepped forward wearing her loveliest smile. "We are looking for—"
"A Breton woman," said Malenia, her rosy hand covering the vampire's. A comforting chill enveloped her at the touch. "Short. Blonde hair. Prickly old bitch."
"Her? Hmm." The Argonian's tongue slithered out from her lips; her ruby eyes twitched in thought. "Woman didn't say she expected guests." Her taloned hands were full in towels and a meat-covered plate, chipped slightly. And her expression was all too squeamish. "I could let you into her room. If you make it worth my while."
"Listen here, you stupid fucking—"
"Look around you, I'm barely keeping this rathole together! The war's seen to that."
Malenia snarled. And I'll see to your head on a post outside the city gates. Her hand left Serana's only to wrap around Dawnbreaker's golden hilt. The warped metal was familiar, after so long deprived from it.
She made to unsheathe the weapon. Serana gasped softly, Brelyna let out a sigh of defeat, and that other fucking coward was nowhere to be seen at all—
"Never thought I'd ever see you again."
The redhead's ears curled at the noise. She turned, and in the dimness, she spotted Delphine wearing a leather cuirass and a grim smile. The months hadn't been kind to her, she assessed dully, her eyes visually tracing the harsh jags and cuts lining the older woman's tanned forehead. Even her armour seemed worse for wear too.
"Friends of yours," said the innkeeper, the tension in her shoulders lessening. She must have thought Delphine could have protected her. "And you never thought to tell poorly Keerava, mmm?"
Delphine shook her head. "Take your shift another time. Anyone comes, you tell them the inn is closed." She silenced the Argonian woman's oncoming protests with a lift of her finger. "I'll pay, Keerava. I always have."
This was taking far too long for Malenia's liking. She folded her arms, eyeing suspiciously. "We need to talk."
"That we do. I told you that your help was needed, and you up and ran off on me. It matters not." The Breton's steely gaze shifted to the assembled party — then narrowed, as if unimpressed. "The rest of you, stay here. I only need her."
A forlorn rage bubbled under the surface; Malenia clenched her jaw, crashing her teeth together. Those other two unwanted companions mattered less to her than a skeever's ass. Her mood would've improved if Agmaer remained out in the inn, and gotten robbed. Or perhaps shanked.
Then she'd be alone with the woman she longed to touch and feel even now. Not even Delphine would care if she suddenly took one step, drew Serana closer, ever so gently, her hand drifting under the blouse and feeling the pale chill skin underneath and pressed the softest…
But Serana… Serana had to come.
Yet the letter in Riverwood remained, the mentions of danger, whatever they might find here in Riften, and Malenia's mind was made up in an instant.
"You heard her," she told Serana, voice shaking and strained, and the others too if they'd heard. "You're staying."
"Mm." Serana grabbed her arm. "Right. Let's go."
"Serana—"
"I'm not leaving you alone. Not with her."
At that, Malenia managed a faint smile. "And you call me jealous."
"I could call you an idiot if that helps." She craned her head, slightly. "Brelyna, take stock of our supplies. Potions, bandages, whatever else we have left. Or buy more if we're lacking. Hmm. Ag, I… try to look your most threatening; enough to fool anyone out there."
Malenia lightly squeezed the delicate hand in her grasp, scarred meeting burned and bruised, and longed to trail the touch of her lips along Serana's arms yet again, if only to soothe the blackened marks that lingered still. Damn Vingalmo, she thought morosely. "Mal, Ag…" Humour would have to stifle her inner grief, she hoped. "You're getting lazier. Why doesn't Brelyna get another name?"
She delighted in the soft giggle she heard. An uncertain, and most-fucking-certainly unwanted warmth flew to her cheeks at the sound, and it was all that she could do to maintain her composure.
"You are absolutely unbelievable," Serana said, still chuckling. "Agmaer, did you understand?" When the blonde coward nodded, the vampire turned, tilting her head 'till her mouth was near enough that she might nibble on Malenia's ear, if she'd so wished it, and her voice such a raspy caress that Malenia shivered. "Can we go now, Malenia?"
Her knees wobbled; her heart stuttered. By Oblivion, this was ridiculous.
"I never said you could come with me."
Why did she have to tremble? How could she be damnably shy still, whatever in the world she could call this stupid and pointless emotion, after so long, after everything that she… that they had…
Serana's tone softened, turning gentle, and sheepish too. "But I'm coming anyways. Let's see what she has to say?" Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Malenia leaned forward, capturing those silky lips into a kiss. The vampire's face was tinged by a blush when they pulled away, and she was panting a little. "Then you can go back to being a grouch?"
"I'm not a—"
"Hush."
"Fine," Malenia allowed. "But I'll do the talking."
She did not do the talking. They found Delphine in the Bee and Barb's cellar, amidst barrels and kegs, hunched over a makeshift table. As soon as the Breton spotted them, she barked out a derisive, "Sit." When neither the redhead nor the vampire obeyed, Delphine pursed her lips. "Well, you haven't changed. Guess I should've expected that."
A prickling annoyance stirred the redhead. "Drop the fucking smug. We were looking for you, and I'm sure as shit that you need us here." She took a dangerous step closer. "You were on the search for someone when I saw you last."
"Hm." Delphine regarded the two women, steely eyes shifting between them. "So what's with the vampire? Same one as before, if I recall. I spotted that cute little trick of yours the moment you walked through the city gates. Illusion to hide your red eyes. Drop it, girl." The old Agent sighed, then, as if in scolding herself. "Girl, I say. You're probably older than the damned Empire. Sure look clueless enough, though."
Malenia faced Serana, then shook her head deftly. Much as she was reluctant to admit just how she needed the awful Breton's help in finding Alduin, she would never admit it, nor allow Serana to be spoken to in that way.
"You fucking need me," she told Delphine again, shoulders tensed and her lone hand resting on Dawnbreaker's round pommel, "so don't push it."
A dull scrape resounded through the cellar; Serana licked her lips, purposely revealing one elegant fang. "This vampire is with her."
"With her," Delphine glared. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means she's my friend," Malenia snapped. "Why the fuck do you care."
All of her ached still, but a small flutter filled her at her own treacherous words.
Friend.
It was not true, not at all, not even in the slightest—
Because if Malenia allowed herself to admit…
Admit, accursedly what? That she and Serana had kissed? Their bath? That she had abandoned the bliss of the afterlife for a chance to see Serana one last time?
Rosy lashed fluttered, again; her breath stopped.
That she loved Serana?
She pushed past the fuzzy emotions bubbling in her chest and regarded Delphine grimly. "We've come all the way from the Sea of Ghosts and it was not to answer your stupid questions."
Delphine nodded. "No, course not." She stared where Malenia's right arm ended in an abrupt stump. "I'd ask what happened to the silver hand I gave you, but—"
"Threw it into a fire," answered the redhead nonchalantly, shrugging.
"Ah. Yes. Course." Delphine did not even bother to look surprised. "Ruining my plans merely by showing your face." She swallowed her next planned insult and clicked her tongue, eyes flickering to the barrels strewn around her. "By Dagon, you're here, and there's little use shoving you away now. The other two upstairs — they can be trusted?"
"Barely know the morons," said Malenia.
"They can be trusted," corrected Serana, sharing a glare with the other woman. "Can you?"
The Breton's golden brow twitched, though what little irritation showed was swiftly burried, her mask of composure resurfacing. "Do you remember the documents you found inside the Embassy? About a man named Esbern? I've been tracking him for months now, ever since you up and left Solitude. And I believe I've finally found him. He is here." She crossed her arms, as if letting her words sink. "In the Ratway."
Serana groaned. "Sewers. Again."
"Right," said the impatient redhead, "sewers, some old useless man, and you." Fucking ridiculous. This was the woman supposed to help find Alduin? Help somehow slay the dragon? Malenia had half a mind to murder Delphine right then and there, if only because it would improve her mood. "Where's Esbern?"
"You don't understand, the Ratway—"
"Where," Malenia uttered again, "is he?"
Delphine hesitated. Then spoke.
"With the Thalmor."
The next hour passed in a blur. Malenia chewed onto the inside of her cheek as red-hot fury bloomed across her features. She hadn't known exactly what to expect in coming here; danger, as the letter had said, thieves, low-life fucking scoundrels of some sort — but not the Thalmor.
So very long had passed since she had set their precious Embassy to the torch. Malenia had never forgotten of them, nor of Elenwen's escape, not even after all the months spent aiding Serana.
She had wasted too much time.
She had let Elenwen escape.
And yet she had saved Serana, and put an end to the Tyranny of the Sun.
Elenwen had escaped; vengeance had gone unanswered. But it had been worth it all. As she walked through a dim cavernous passage, Malenia allowed her gaze to drift away from the path ahead.
"What is it?"
A smile grace her lips at the soft voice she could never grow accustomed to. "Nothing," she told Serana, hoping the vampire would not notice the waver to her voice. "Just… thinking." Had the day finally come? Would her sister finally be avenged?
No, that was entirely fucking stupid. What would Elenwen be doing here, inside a tepid sewer?
Yet the Thalmor found here might know. If Delphine's words held true, which Malenia very much doubted, then this Esbern held some great importance. What an important Agent of the Blades would be doing in the scurrying ratholes of the world was beyond her; Malenia let out a soft growl from her rosy lips as the stench wafted to her nose. Disgusting, wasted.
"Stay close," came the voice again, the voice of the one light in this ugly rotted hell. "Remember what Delphine said."
Right, she thought. Not only the Thalmor to worry over. Thieves. And some of them had supposedly banded together into some pathetic little guild. One would have to be a coward to steal when they could simply kill.
"How could anyone live down here?" Agmaer wondered aloud as he kicked a skull along the pathway, shattering it. "It's gross."
"You're gross," said Malenia.
"Mal."
Brelyna frowned. "Well, technically, they don't live here. I'm sure they go to the surface on occassion."
Some of the paths twisted; others jutted down even deeper, forsaken by even the sad misbegotten fools that had attempted to hide away here over the centuries. Stone clung to the redhead's leather boots in wet mossy liquid, depravedly so, as water slowly dripped from the ceiling above.
All the doors had been pried open already, wrought iron gnarled like skeletal fingers grasping out in all directions.
"Hmm." Serana tapped her chin, when they reached a fork in the dark pathway. "Left or right?"
Her voice quivered slightly. Malenia sighed through her nose. Why had she agreed to let these other two idiots come? Were it not for them and this sewer and Esbern and fucking Delphine, she very well might have turned only to glimpse those red-rimmed eyes again—
A sword sang sharply as it carved through the air.
Agmaer screamed.
There was no time to think. Malenia's hand had already wrapped around Serana's arm, so very tightly that she could feel the muscles underneath and the way the vampire squirmed in her grasp; yet she was unrelenting, as was the thundering boom of her voice.
"Fus Ro Dah!"
The thundering boom was too much. They were weightless for a time, then found themselves laying one on top of the other. Malenia's face was aflame, drowned in the depths of Serana's face, the soft long lines, her lovely nose and pallid lips…
"Intruders!" The call of alarm rung out. "Intruders in the causeway!"
She recognised the voice as high-pitched and practiced — and distinctly elven.
Amidst a whizzing firebolt, Malenia stood, Dawnbreaker unsheathed, facing the golden-armoured attackers. She had expected them all along, even if they thought this was a surprise. Her holy sword plunged through armour and flesh and bone, slaughtering the nearest Thalmor in an instant, then turned for the next. A Justiciar. One who might know of Elenwen's location, even as far-away as the Summerset Isles.
The hint of a smile played along Malenia's face.
How long it had been since she had killed, and by the Divines it was pure bliss. Thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears had all been extinguished. Nothing else mattered save for the feel of her sword ending a heartbeat, a pulse stilled.
This was what she had been made for. This was good. It was right.
She slammed the weight of her boot into a lightly garbed Altmer, presumably the archer of the group, then squeezed her heel down onto his throat when the fool toppled over.
"How many," she spat out, "of you? How many."
The Thalmor squirmed against the boot, weak. "More… more than you can handle…"
One stomp of her boot was the end of him.
Her ears prickled at the whirring sound of an arrow. Before Malenia could make sense of it, the long shaft embedded itself into the moss-covered stone, shattering it—
And just barely missing Serana's head.
The vampire turned, trembling, the sweltering burn of her eyes dimmed by the fear flowing from her in waves.
Too close. Too fucking close.
Dawnbreaker swiftly silenced the errant Thalmor who'd fired the arrow. Malenia never gave him a chance, and his severed head lying in a gory pile on the other end of the passage was the only fate the would-be murderer deserved.
She allowed the Daedric sword to clatter on the stone, then reached out and lifted Serana's gaze to hers with the edge of her knuckle. "Be careful, you idiot," she chastised, with conviction and a deep thrum of something that continued to bloom from the depths of her chest. Ocean-blue eyes wandered from the flush of Serana's cheeks down to her cold lips, and she reached her thumb to stroke over the delicate skin there.
"You don't have to tell me that."
"By all the fucking gods, Serana, you… you almost…"
She tore the arrow from the stone with a huff, breaking it in two just as gentle shushing quieted her.
"Thank you," Serana whispered, still tremoring, and an entirely different flame burned in the redhead when those dark lashes fluttered and the breath that left her trembled.
Leaning down, Malenia caught parted lips in a slow, sensuous kiss. She savoured each stroke of their mouths, each sigh from Serana's throat when their tongues met. Slithering a hand around Serana's waist, she pulled the vampire flush against her, swallowing the faintest shy moan that came after she moved to grasp the back of Serana's neck—
A quiet gulp made her pull away with a hiss.
Agmaer's voice was muffled behind the half-helm and scarf he wore. "Sorry, but… we should probably move. Before more of them come."
"Then move," Malenia snarled back.
Serana chuckled quietly against her, dipping her head down against the other woman's armoured shoulder before pressing a path of warm, open-mouthed kisses along her exposed neck. "He's right," she murmured, planting a final chaste kiss against the jut of a collarbone. "If the Thalmor are here, Esbern must be close."
"And Delphine might want to know," Agmaer said, voice soft. "She told us to tell her, once we knew where Esbern is."
"But we don't fucking know where he is."
Because if Agmaer was correct, there was no way in all of hellish Oblivion that the idiot could have reached the surface on his own. He would need an escort, someone strong…
A terse sigh escaped the redhead. She lost herself in the caresses she felt over her arms and neck, where Serana had pulled the blouse and leather down to reveal smooth rosy skin, marred by the slightest scars. She enjoyed it for as long as she could, then reluctantly muttered, "You'll get him back to the inn?"
Serana nodded. "And you'll rescue the old man. Take Brelyna with you." She hovered the touch of her lips close to Malenia's forehead, the soft puffs of her breath when she spoke almost unbearable. "Just don't kill her."
"If I see a single damn scar on you…"
She almost flinched at the vulnerability in her voice, how it wavered. Ridiculous. Stupid.
Why did she have to care?
"And you already have enough," rasped Serana, gentle. "I'll see you soon, mmm? Just promise me you'll be safe." They shared another kiss, then, and Serana hesitated before she pulled back with a heady smile. "I'm not done with you yet."
"Fuck off, before I change my mind and keep you here." All to myself.
She was gone far too quickly for Malenia's liking, as was Agmaer, and Brelyna Maryon was not a suitable replacement in the slightest. The pair went deeper into the Ratway, past the gnarled cages and vagrants; Malenia saw one man practicing his fist-fighting against the wall, a drunkard Khajiit with a bushy topaz tail scurrying away at the sight of her, and more skeevers and skulls than she could be bothered to count.
With a bitter low huff, she marched on.
Her jaw had clenched at some point — though it was not her doing. She noticed it slowly, at first; her foot dragging as it stepped on this rock, her teeth clattering together errantly, and the faint tremoring that enveloped her like a suffocating shroud.
What in Oblivion was this?
Why was she… losing control?
Brelyna, ever damnably curious, had noticed it too, when they rounded a corner lit by one of her orbs of light. "What's wrong?"
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Malenia imagined the Dunmer's head clean off the mage's shoulders. "Nothing." Nothing. Nothing. Nothing…
"Well, so long as you stay alive. I don't think Serana would prefer it if I showed up on the surface all on my lonesome."
"Stop fucking talking."
She could not bear to think of Serana, not here, not now… not with this Daedric presence haunting her mind. Malenia thought she knew the cause, even as dread slithered through her heart at the mere notion of it.
It was Him. Always Herma-Mora.
In the few books she'd read of the Daedric Lord, Hermaeus Mora had been described as one of the more benign. Whilst others such as Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon endlessly put Tamriel to the sword, and causing myriad death and destruction in their wake, Hermaeus Mora cared only for knowledge. Few even knew of His appearance, so secretive He was.
So then why her, why here, stuck in this awful fucking decayed heap deprived of the woman she desired, stuck with only some College mage she hardly knew—
She turned. Ocean-blue eyes were blazing white-hot rage, hidden beneath her golden helm. Malenia grasped a fistfull of Brelyna's robes.
"What are you…?" Sweat beaded on the elf's ashen brow. "I know you are unpredictable, but please, don't even think…"
"College mage." College. College. Winterhold. Malenia licked her lips hungrily, unconsciously.
Whether Brelyna was more terrified or curious was impossible to know. Her crimson eyes visually traced the woman before her, as if taking in her measure, then gulped warily. She stopped resisting, allowing herself to be slammed further into the wall.
"Fascinating," she whispered, eyes now wide. "But you're not a vampire, how could it happen to you too?"
Malenia blinked. She had lost control of her hand long ago, the scarred fingers writhing against Brelyna's robes.
"Happen." Her tongue was tangled; speaking itself became a chore. "Happen. What happen?"
"She never told you? Oh." Brelyna tapped her chin, though the gesture was cut short when the redhead's touch wandered to her neck and began to squeeze. The Dunmer's inquisitive mind never strayed; she was terrified, obvious by her shivering, yet her desire to know the cause of this was overpowering. "On our way home from Labyrinthian, I saw this happen. To Serana, I mean. She wasn't herself anymore, when we reached the College, and Master Aren…"
"S'rana." Her addled mind conjured the image of the vampire, of gentle red-rimmed eyes, twin beacons of light nestled in long dark locks. Drool trickled down Malenia's chin.
Serana.
Serana.
Serana.
She clung ravenously to that thought, to her, and dimmed the ghastly manifestations of her mind.
And the voice she heard of some other lost soul down here only made it all worse. "Inkpot," the voice was saying numbly, "Inkpot, Stone, Bucket, Book, Knife."
"She needed blood," Brelyna said, raising her hand to still Malenia's as the throat-squeezing touch intensified. "She needed blood," she said again, "and had never told me about her vampirism, or the Psijic mage we traveled with. So it was by the time we reached Winterhold, she couldn't control herself any longer."
"Inkpot. Stone. Bucket. Book. Knife."
Malenia's scrambled brain struggled to recall anything at all; Blood. Winterhold. Inkpot. Psijic mage, bucket, book? What exactly was she doing here, who was the Dunmer with her—
And who precisely was Serana?
Brelyna grew unnerved, her dark brows drawing close together. "I think blood wouldn't be very useful to you. Maybe we should go back? Find Serana again?"
"Serana."
All at once, she was crowded by the visions that swallowed the very world, her sight drowned. The looming weight in her chest became an encompassing crushing sensation, the air thinned and sparked as Malenia forced herself to move.
"Serana?"
She was mumbling by now, her voice rasping the name that felt so very close to her yet still a mystery.
"Bucket. Knife. Book. Inkpot. Stone. No. No. No."
Had she spoken those words? No, no, so random, so very infuriating, who in the fuck—
"Knife. Yes. Book. Yes. Bucket. Yes. Inkpot? No. No."
Ocean-blue eyes struggled to see. Her hearing scarcely picked up a sound. Malenia glanced up. At the far-end of the corridor, the door stood out amidst the rest; it was heavy wood, latched on the ends by stone and steel and a thin elongated slit carved into the oak.
"That could be Esbern," said the Dunmer woman at Malenia's side. "We should go." Her pace picked up. "Now."
Now. Now. Rosy lips let out an unveiled snarl. She was beholden to no-one; how dare this stranger order her around?
"Go away!"
The voice behind the door was elderly. The elf's tone was one of quivering, slightly, but she tapped the wood all the same. "Open the door, Esbern."
A pause. Then the slit opened. He was a Nord, evidently, with pale-bone hair that flew in all directions and an old haggard look about him. "Esbern? Who?" If the fool was acting, it was damn poorly. "No, that's not me. I'm not Esbern. I don't know what you're talking about."
Esbern. "Yes." The redhead could only giggle in delight as the fog of her mind lifted, the dull throb suddenly gone. It's him. It's him.
This was the person she sought.
"The Thalmor have found you," said Brelyna. "You need to get out of here."
"Oh, how reassuring! Most likely you're with the Thalmor and this is just a trick to get me to open the door!"
Malenia had slipped into the shadows by then. No reason to give the old idiot a chance to glimpse death in the face — except to see him beg, of course. She'd always delighted in the flash of hope filling one's eyes, the slimmest chance that they might escape with their life, before being snuffed out entirely.
Her head filled with a soothing caress; a drawl that overpowered all sense; a reminder of all that she had done as champion; one that commanded her.
"There's Thalmor agents in the Ratway, didn't you know? Looking for you! Delphine needs your help, Esbern. She is up above, inside the tavern, the one with the Argo—" The Dunmer swallowed her next words — she seemed to have a tendency to overtalk. "She said to remember the 30th of Frostfall?"
Esbern straightened. "Ah. Indeed, indeed. I do remember. So Delphine keeps up the fight, after all these years?" He took a long moment to ponder whatever that meant to him. "But if she has grown desperate enough to see me… no. No, no. Delphine is a friend, to be sure, and I long to see her again, but not under these circumstances. Leave me. I thought she'd have realised it's hopeless by now. I tried to tell her, years ago. Leave me be. Please."
"She thinks you might be able to help with the Dragonborn."
Dragonborn. So many had called Malenia by that name, so many idiots and swindlers and fools, and she had ignored them all. She belonged to no-one, no man or priest or vampire, no god at all save for—
The old Nord leaned closer to the slit in the door. "How do you know about the Dragonborn?" His gaze shifted downward then as he worked to unlock all the contraptions and steel bars clinging to the heavy door. After a long series of clicks, Esbern opened it and quickly shoved the two inside. "Never you mind that! Dragonborn… then… there may be hope! The gods have not abandoned us! Not yet, at least."
Brelyna blinked at him as she walked inside, taking in the cell-turned-home. It was a mess, though well enough organised. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled to overflowing, and carpets covered the floors, and in one corner laid one old yet plump bed. "What do you mean, it's hopeless?"
That only irritated Esbern further. "Haven't you figured it out yet? What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on? Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said! The Dragon from the dawn of time, who devours the souls of the dead! None can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife. Though perhaps with the Dragonborn returned, there may yet be hope. Bring me to Delphine, we must—"
Dawnbreaker severed through the tepid air.
Flesh squelched in utterly delightful red.
Esbern, whoever he was, all that he may once have known, fell at once, his carpeted floor smeared by a streak of glistening black-and-crimson. He choked, sputtering as he stared at the Daedric sword still impaled into his chest.
"You..." Blood escaped his wrinkled throat as he tried to speak. He just barely managed to pull the sword out. "What… what you've just—"
Malenia silenced him with another thrust of her sword.
Dropping to her knees, the redhead allowed her arm to raise before falling, each stab reducing the corpse beneath her into only a more destitute pile of gore. She carved out Esbern's eyes, slid the length of Dawnbreaker across his nose and lips and chin, slashing and eviscerating untill he was no more than a bloodied skull.
She had been laughing at first, she remembered, the upward curve of her rosy lips, the joy that flowed through her as she cackled with each and every torment she inflicted—
"Mal? Mal!"
The inquisitive voice pulled her out from her trance.
Malenia recognised it in an instant, and she stood with arms trembling and weary.
Serana?
She spared the butchered corpse at her feet a parting glance. Fiery brows drew together in confusion. This was not her. She had been in the Ratway, moving through the labyrinthine tunnels with Brelyna, and she hadn't the faintest fucking clue as to where that Dunmer had fled to. Probably running in terror, that unenviable curiosity finally overpowered by the sheer depravity of… her.
Malenia gulped.
It was not her. It couldn't have.
Yet the blood clinging to her face was still fresh; the scars on her chest ached as her head pounded; and her muscles still throbbed with all of the stabs that she had committed.
"Mal?"
The voice was still faraway, yet closer now. At the end of the tunnel, she spotted Serana, her pale hands touching the mossy walls as she walked, calling out faintly. She hadn't seen Malenia, not yet, it seemed.
A shadow approached from behind her.
Agmaer, thought the redhead, stifling a gentle smile. They're safe. They were both here; Serana was here, and she could find some way to explain whatever in Oblivion she had done and finally be sated in the arms of… of…
The shadow became drenched in a wave of gold. In lieu of the blonde coward, it was a Thalmor Justiciar, and not even Malenia's cry of, "Wuld!" had been fast enough to stop the conjured azure blade that plunged through Serana's spine and out of her chest.
The ruby-red glow of her eyes faded to black—
She crumpled to the ground.
Chapter 8: The Past
Chapter Text
"Take her."
"She's not breathing."
Voices drifted faintly to her senses. The weightless feeling was utterly unbearable, as was the gaping hole in her chest, throbbing, pounding, pounding.
"More Thalmor to the left!"
"Too many, I don't know if—"
"Just fucking take her!"
Who…?
She was being carried. Nauseous fear poured out from her in terrible waves; claws tore at her stab-wound, as if poised to savage her apart entirely, and it was all that she could do to cling on. Her throat had tried to scream, yet not a single breath had ever come out.
Serana tried to blink, useless.
The world was drowned in shadow.
There were glimpses all throughout, more of the stench of the sewer, sounds and screams of battle — and soft gentle fingers cradling her face, whispering soothing words that she could not make out…
"Breathe. Please breathe."
Serana forced gasps of air through her mouth. In. Out.
"We can't go yet," a timid tone voiced. "We haven't even found Brelyna yet!"
Brelyna… the vampire found herself wincing at the name. What had happened to Brelyna? Amidst the pain, memory struggled to form; the Ratway, on the lookout for Esbern, splitting up from Malenia only to find precious nothing at all.
Serana whimpered. The scourging pain…
"To fucking Oblivion with Brelyna," said a cool voice in rebuke to the first, smooth and raspy.
"But—"
"Either help, or get the fuck out of my way."
Serana's mind raced as her heart stuttered, her lungs doused by the magical scars that just would not stop. "I… my…" She could not speak. The effort was too great; and her soul too defeated. "M…Ma…"
A gentle shushing reached her ears. The frantic yet light breath on her cold skin was enough to send her to slumber, though it provided little relief from the throbbing agony. In her dreams the dead stared at her with eyes full of judgement, Vingalmo, Ronthil, even Father, casting blame upon her for this, for what had happened, for what would happen.
Malenia…
She was enveloped by blankets and pillows and furs, and then drifted away once more.
All came in a blur, then. Her sleep was oft restless, plagued by the pain in her lower abdomen, waking only to taste brief dried scraps of blood upon her chapped lips.
She had wanted to protest that. Her hands had raised feebly to wave the blood away, for it was not the blood she desired, not the blood of the woman that she loved.
Her sight had never returned. Not at first. The world still lay drowned in shadow. She could scarcely hear anything at all, too.
"I await, my daughter."
Serana had known it to be a dream — a gnarled nightmare — at once, when the broken bloodied visage of Lord Harkon appeared before her. He had taken on the form of a Vampire Lord, and his de-armoured chest leaked from the scorched wounds of Dawnbreaker and the Bow of Auriel.
Her mouth had flooded with grief, before she gulped it away. I killed you, she thought, facing the monster. I killed you, you are dead, the prophecy is forgotten.
"Yes," Harkon agreed, his tone one of booming. "You killed me." His red-rimmed glare became darkened by whisps of tepid black. "And I killed her."
No. No. Serana lunged, toppling her father-turned-creature, her own taloned hands ripping away the greenish flesh until he was a pile of gore on the shadowed ground, but he still endlesly refused to die. "I BROUGHT HER BACK!" Her voice unraveled, her throat tattered, her face drowned in tears as Harkon's flooded with black-hued blood. It had been weeks of torture and suffering and pain, but it was all for the better. Malenia had come back to her. Whether it had been Falion's ritual or another unknowable source, the light of her life shone yet again.
Lord Harkon's up-snouted face curled a smirk, and his response was simple. Cruel.
"Did you?"
The dream drifted again, and Serana drowned, again.
Through the haze, slowly, surely, she was improving. She remembered now; The Ratway, becoming lost in those labyrinthine suffocating tunnels, and hearing encroaching footsteps from behind yet being too slow and far too stupid to react.
Healing a vampire, especially one of her calibre, was no small feat. For however invulnerable her unliving body seemed to most of the masses, Serana was no mere vampire. She was a Daughter of Coldharbour; the powers that flowed through her were strange and unpredictable to even herself.
Only one person, one woman's blood, was capable of tending to her so rapidly.
Serana had sobbed when she had tasted it, sweet and warm, and soothing in its own way. She was still reluctant. Malenia had as yet not fully recovered from her own demise; despite her insistance on just how important it was that they hurry, Serana wished for more time.
Time to be with her. Care for her. Love her.
When she woke one night, she could not say how long it'd been, only that her condition seemed better. Plasters laid on her exposed midriff, haphazard yet still careful, and thin tubes jutting out from her arm to blood bags hanging above. Without the use of her fangs, she supposed there were only so many times that Malenia had rubbed a bloodied finger across her lips.
This was precisely the problem. They had moved much too quickly, dared, and had paid the price for it.
Malenia had paid that price. She was hurt.
The mortal was asleep now, her left arm wrapped snug around the vampire's chest, just above where the plasters ended. There was a certain gauntness to her face now. Had she not been eating?
Just how much blood had she risked losing?
A pertinent sigh escaped Serana, who rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she stared at the woman sharing the bed with her. She could not know where exactly they were, but this bed was plump and almost overfull with thick warm blankets, in a way more comfortable than her own chambers in Castle Volkihar. This bed did not seem to creak as much. It did not come with the crushing weight of memory. Or be a thousand years old. Presumably.
Serana let herself fall back into the pillow more, taking in its softness. Her hand drifted, then, hesitanting before she cupped Malenia's face. Small flecks of blood still covered the redhead, as if she hadn't quite taken the time to clean herself. She was always rather terrible at that.
What am I to do with you? Remnants of the dream yet lingered, Lord Harkon's words, his insufferable taunting.
When she closed her eyes, she could see him still, shifted into his form but still sounding like her father. "Did you?" he had asked.
Yes. Serana leaned over to kiss Malenia's forehead. The other woman stirred in her dreams, but she did not wake. Yes I did. They were worse for wear, admittedly, if the myriad canyons of scars covering them both were anything to go by, but they lived. Serana thought to count her blessings.
So long as Malenia lived, so would she.
She stayed there a while, not pulled to sleep but also not feeling nearly ready to get up, nor to wake the woman that she now held carefully in her embrace. She wondered if it might ever feel different. Even now, even after their kisses, a flutter ran through her at the mere thought of those rosy lips lightly touching her own once more; she could feel the ridiculous blush crawling up her pale cheeks as she smiled.
How many times had she stared at the reddish scar running in broken pattern from Malenia's right cheek to her chin? It must have been thousands. She'd caught herself thinking of it, once, and once or twice most recently had traced her tongue over the length of it just to feel Malenia shivering with pleasure in her arms.
One day, all this may seem entirely normal.
Not the sight of Malenia in pain. Serana would never grow accustomed to that, nor did she wish it. She didn't know how much blood Malenia had sacrificed, but it was so very clearly too much.
Far too much, for a vampiric wretch like her.
Yet she craved the velvety rasp of Malenia's voice, the lips grazing along her neck and the length of her body, endlessly obsessed with the sensation of the other woman's lovely and gentle and also firm touch upon her—
Malenia stirred; her ocean-blue eyes snapped open.
Serana's heart suddenly stopped.
"Mal?" She was breathless, her voice struggling to speak at all. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Did I wake you? I didn't mean t—"
Malenia's lips brushed against her own and the world ended. The vampire lost herself in the moment. The warmth on her mouth, the way their lips touched just so, just perfectly. She felt Mal's sole hand slipping beneath her neck, grasping blindly for the dark shirt, already lifted to allow for the plasters.
Serana kissed her again and again and again until it was the only thought occupying her mind, the only thing in all-Tamriel that mattered.
"Does it still hurt?" asked the mortal at some point, just as weakly, wheezing, and Serana shushed her with her tongue.
"Don't talk." Pallid fingers tangled in thick fiery-red curls, and one of the vampire's legs slided under Malenia. She could feel her own thunderous deathly heart protesting in vain attempt for air, one she stubbornly denied, save for one lingering moment, "Don't… don't talk…"
No. The thought from before came again, and the answer perhaps more clear. No, Serana thought she'd never grow used to this. It was not the mere wiles of some other woman.
Malenia. Malenia was kissing her. Malenia was touching her. Malenia was kissing her until her soft moans grew louder. She took hold of the redhead's blouse and pulled her closer.
Another sharp, aily inhale. "Serana."
The vampire kissed her harder still, lips addicted to the sweet scent. "Don't talk," she chastised softly again, her hands now restless, hateful of the blouse forming a barrier between her and the woman she craved. "Don't stop, don't, don't, don't ever…"
She could feel warm rosy fingers slithering, moving tentatively under her blouse as they slowly crept up the length of her torso. Serana swallowed a faint wince. Her scars burned, and she trembled.
But she would not allow that to ruin this moment.
"Take off." Malenia grunted with impatience. "Take this stupid fucking thing off already."
Serana managed a husky laugh, lifting her arms as the fingers drifted across her chest and the peaks of her breasts, earning a little shudder from her. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the ministrations, her blouse now fully removed. A thin trickle of drool fell down her chin and soaked the pillows below her.
The mortal moved, now fully straddling the other woman as she smashed her rosy lips to Serana's, her kisses now harder, desperate, never-ending.
The plasters had shifted at some point; the stitches had ruptured somewhat, and the thin tubes removed. Blood filled Serana's chest, but she could not quite bring herself to care. Were it Mal's blood in lieu of her own, she might've lost herself entirely. Sweet. Coppery and thin and sweet.
She stifled a grin—
Then gasped when she felt those long fingers take ravenous hold of her pants and pull, tangling them down to her knees.
"Mal." Her body arced off the bed.
She shook her legs and finally freed herself of the accursed leather garb. Malenia had moved to her neck, leaving dark hickeys in her wake. Serana moved almost in instinct, nails groving across the mortal's waist, teasing.
When her touch ghosted over the sensitive skin of Malenia's ass elicited a deep trembling, the vampire stopped at once.
Hesitation gripped her still, despite everything. Too quickly. She stared at the cerulean depths that blinked at her in silent question. Was it a mistake? Would Malenia be… offended?
She swallowed her worries when lips met her own in a slow and soft, yet needy kiss. "Did you miss me that much?"
Mal leaned her head against the vampire's bare shoulder, elated by the chill. "You stupid idiot, what did I tell you about scars?"
"Stupid idiot? I don't think that is—"
"Serana. I mean it. If it wasn't for me, if you weren't a vampire…"
"Well, then you should consider yourself lucky that I am." Her pale hand cupped the redhead's red cheek. "I'm sorry. I should've been more careful, I know that, and perhaps left with Brelyna instead of Agmaer…" Choosing him to accompany her was a hasty decision, if she thought of it. Yet letting Brelyna come would have enraged Malenia. And she had not been in the mood to see the light of her life more furious than her usual. "But I'm fine."
Malenia tsked. "Are you?" She looked down as her fingers explored every curve and delicate dip of her lover's body; down her small soft breasts, her well-toned torso, the inner space between her thighs. Serana shuddered, though Malenia seemed satisfied enough with what she saw. "Fine. Only some scars."
"And you still have more."
"You shouldn't fucking have any."
"And neither should you. Stubborn. What, just because you're more reckless than any other woman I've ever known—"
Bushy scarlet brows drew together at that. "Just which other women do you know?" Mal ticked off her hand. "I think I'll murder Brelyna first. If she yet lives. Then Delphine, just because of that stupid stupid stupid way she talks, then take a stroll down to the College. And rip Agmaer's head off while I'm at it. He's no woman, but he let you get stabbed. And if that fool thinks I've forgotten…"
Serana smiled fondly at her. "What in the world am I supposed to do with you?" She puffed out a dry laugh at Malenia's eye roll. "Don't tell me you abandoned Brelyna down there."
"What, you don't think she can handle some skeevers?"
"There were Thalmor, Mal." Sighing, she straightened then sat up, the heedy swelter of her gaze dimmed. "I can trust that you kept her safe, at the least? Or you wouldn't be here with me. And… Esbern?"
The airy humour dissipated; darkness encroached over the mortal's soft features.
Malenia was suddenly unable to meet the vampire's gaze, and a bitter-thick veil of cynicism laced the sole word she spat.
"Gone."
"Gone?" Serana shifted closer. "Were we too late? I thought the Thalmor would at least attempt to capture Esbern, not kill—"
Those ocean-blue eyes whirled on her so rapidly that she gasped, her undead heart now thunderous once again, and for entirely different reasons. Serana fought the urge to shrink back further into the bed. The thought of Harkon formed in her head again.
The intensity blanketing Malenia's face was wholly alien. Fear. Fear and savagery and fury and the insurmountable terror that seeped out of her every stilted move. Serana had seen the redhead's fury before. This… was something else entirely.
Then, just as suddenly, the unwelcome emotion vanished. Mal didn't even seem shocked at her own outburst. "That," she grunted, "is why. Not the Thalmor, not Brelyna, not any of the fucking thieves down there." She wrapped her arms tight around her legs, drawn up to her chin, and smiled a soft forlorn smile. "We get closer only for this. What's the damn point? Why in Oblivion force me…"
Serana froze. "You killed him."
Questions swirled through her head, each growing more brambled than the last; Malenia may well have been reckless in the past, yet even she was capable of acting gentle. And even she would have known just how important Esbern was to the world.
She could hear a low huff, Mal shaking her head, crestfallen. "I don't care to talk about this shit. I know we need to. I fucking know. He was a choking sickly old man. If we had gotten him out, what are the chances that he would've just died…"
"You don't know that."
Malenia grimaced. "No. But I can believe that." She raked a hand through her fiery curls, leaving them in wild whirls. "Fuck Esbern. I'm not going to weep over him."
It was clear enough to Serana now. Malenia had not done this — not of her own will.
It was not her. It was Them.
And who exactly is that? No answer seemed evident to the vampire, no way for her to be certain. The Daedric Lords were her thought again, though not one in particular. When Mehrunes Dagon had launched his sulfur-and-sword invasion of Tamriel at the end of the Third Era, it had resulted in the end of the Septim Dynasty. Serana could recall reading that. She'd had to pass the weeks alone in Castle Volkihar someway, and knowing how the world had changed through the centuries had been useful.
Though it hadn't been long before Father's insanity had become too much to bear, too much for her, too anxious to see the Dawnguard and Malenia again.
The Septims were Dragonborn too, even deprived of living dragons to consume. Perhaps…
"Don't try to reason your way into this." Malenia sounded dejected. Defeated. "Serana." Her voice was softer now, and her fingers tangled with the vampire's in a delicate hold. "We shouldn't have gotten here. Only the damn fucking Divines know I don't want this, but it's happening. I thought I could resist it. But I turned out to be just another useless pawn. As per fucking usual." A rush of emotion suddenly made her look away. "I'm not going to be around much longer."
Serana's throat felt clamped shut. Air struggled to enter through her nose, and the sobs that escaped her were soft and hushed. The mortal's touch upon her only worsened this despair. Yet she could not allow it to break her.
Lord Harkon's twisted visage formed within the corner of her sight again. "Did you?" he had taunted.
I did, Serana thought again, eyeing the woman before her in grim determination. Malenia had been brought back from death itself. She was Dragonborn. She could face-off against whatever danger stood ahead.
Even if she lacked the foresight to see that.
"And then what? What happens when you're gone?"
Malenia finally craned her head, ocean-blue locking with the ever-intensifying red-rimmed hue. "Then I'm dead. Forever, this time. And I don't know what…" Against herself, a sob wracked through her. She steeled herself and gulped. "It doesn't fucking matter what fucking awaits me. I managed to see you. That's it."
"That's it?"
"Can we stop talking about this?" The redhead's gaze drifted down, and though the teasing glim in her eye was put-upon, her touch caressing the soft pallid bumps of Serana's chest was real.
She tapped her chin. "I can think, Mal. I'm not going to let you throw away your life just because you're too stubborn to fight back."
"Stubborn?" Malenia's touch tightened, a dangerous edge to her voice. "If you're trying to get me worked up—"
"It's working, mm?"
"Serana—"
"Just stop. Here's exactly what will happen, the very moment that you are torn away from me." Serana raced through every possibility, daring to entertain the grim thought. "You'll die, be taken, whatever in Oblivion it may be. Daedric Realm?" The hesitance in Malenia's gesture proved more than enough confirmation. "Good. I'm familiar with that."
Malenia had become wholly quiet by then, though she never dared break the embrace. She clung to her, desperate.
"When I was turned," Serana went on, "it… hurt. Not the same as a stab." She gingerly patted the plasters on her stomach; moving had shifted them, slightly, yet they still covered the worst of her wounds. "The fever took me first. Mother had wished to allow me a bed, all the most plump pillows I could ever want, and what little food I could still swallow. But Harkon said no. Said death mustn't be coddled. I had my birthday party. My last, do you remember? That had been enough."
"And to think I let you see him again when that's wh-what—"
Serana kissed the other woman's forehead, silencing her as she smiled wobbly. Tears blanketed her cold cheeks. "I know." She shook with sobbing. "Let me finish, please." The redhead nodded after a moment's hesitation. Serana went on. "Three days. All that it takes for regular vampires, the lowborn, as they are called. On the third day, I was summoned to the castle chapel. The ceiling was gone, if you can imagine such a thing, there yet not there, and you could see only the eyes high above. His eyes."
The jutting horns and claws and snarls of the Lord of Domination. Even now, Serana could imagine and endlessly perfidiously feel the insipid touch upon her.
And Father had watched on with a face composed of stone.
And Mother…
She resolved to focus on Malenia's gentle caresses; this was beyond compare.
"I think you know the rest." Serana swallowed the grief of the past. Whatever had happened, all that she had suffered… Father was slain. Molag Bal's influence was kept at bay, at least for the time being. She was free. "I have survived one Daedric Lord. I am here, centuries after I was fated to die. I will still never be used to that. And I found you. Isn't that so very hard to believe? I survived Lord Bal, I have survived my father, so if I have to, I—" The cry that escaped her was soft yet haunting, so hollow that it left her a broken whimpering mess as she clung desperately to Malenia's lithe shoulders. "I don't care."
Malenia's hold on her grew, just as miserable, hopeless. "I won't let you just—"
"Whatever it takes." The vampire's lips ghosted narrowly across Malenia's shoulder, pulling the mortal's blouse down as she did so. "Whichever Daedra it is. I have survived the worst of them. I will survive this too."
She sobbed still, aware of the scarred fingers moving along her naked form, caressing over the bloodied wound where the plasters clung just barely, upward, cupping one breast before gently moving to the other, then ending as they grasped her Amulet of Mara.
It was cracked on one edge, the azure crystal once brilliant now clouded, though it still held a certain beauty.
"Open it," murmured Malenia, her voice aggrieved.
She hadn't given the holy relic much thought, buried in the depths of her blouse ever since the suffering and swirls of the Soul Cairn. Not since pilfering it from Brother Skeld's butchered corpse. The Vigilant had kept naught inside the Amulet, and the metal had long since gone to rust, but it was spaceous enough to keep a small memento, if one so wished.
Malenia's hand left the vampire to thread through her curls, ending as she took hold of the ends. "Something to remember me by?"
"My memory is not so bad." Serana lightly held the other woman's face in her palms. She lost herself in the soft rosy skin, the soft round nose, the soft inviting parted lips. "And I don't need some thing to remember you. I'm not losing you."
"Insufferable."
"Why won't you just listen?"
Malenia quirked a fiery brow. "When have I ever?" The moonlight shimmered through the nearby window as she shifted, holding out one long lock of her hair. "Do I need to ask again? Do I need to fucking get Dawnbreaker out? You know that stupid thing would just set my whole head on fire." She gulped; her thin lips pressed together. "Please?"
Nodding on instinct alone, Serana grabbed the hair. "But this doesn't mean I'll lose you."
"Of course not."
"Don't play funny with me." Serana didn't want to laugh and cry all at once. Her heart could only handle so many things at once.
With no knife nor dagger close at hand, she opted to use all that she had available: her fangs. Her left, elegant and elongated, nibbled gently on the ends of Malenia's hair. She hummed, the scent sweet. The scent she recognised.
Her beloved mortal's scent.
After some time, the hair gave way, and Serana retracted her fangs. She thumbed over the scarlet lock in her hand; it was barely the length of her finger, and even in such a small size was a wild mess of its own, just like the woman it belonged to. Gently, she settled it inside the Amulet of Mara, then snapped it shut.
She held the Amulet, feeling Malenia's hand overtop hers. Her forehead drooped against Malenia's too, chill and draconic-hot breaths mingling together, and smiled thinly.
"Good?"
Serana delighted in the question. It was not the first time she had asked it, but the feeling persisted. Malenia cared. Not for wealth of a noble or the false supposed power of vampirism, but for her. The only one who ever had.
"Always," she answered before her lips enveloped the other woman's in a delicate kiss. She grinned when they pulled away, the twin crimson glow of her eyes settling on the blouse still clinging to Malenia. Only weeks had passed since they'd left Castle Volkihar, yet the clothing was already tattered at the ends, far more-so than it had ever been, and sweat and blood marred it. "How did you ruin this so quickly?"
"If you don't like it," snapped the redhead, "take it back."
Wordlessly, Serana did just so. Her pale cold hands grabbed the ends of the burgundy blouse and lifted it; Malenia lifted her arms in turn.
A low chuckle bubbled from her, much as she tried to quickly smother it away, as the vampire's lips drifted to leave deep dark marks on her freshly bared rosy shoulder, shivering at the tongue trailing along her neck, fangs poised dangerously.
"You really need to laugh more often," Serana murmured, glad. The mortal's thin lips were still stretched into a smirk when Serana saw her. "And smile."
Blowing out a breath, she reached up to unravel the braids in her hair. Thick black spooled around her shoulders, cut through with threads of the grime of the Ratway, and she carded her fingers through the waves and tangles idly.
She laid down again, her body flush against Malenia's as she straddled the mortal. "Mmm. Why did we ever bother with clothes?"
"The cold? And thorns? And all the parasites, probably. And you being such a spoiled little princess."
Serana gave her a look. "I'm spoiled, hm?" She settled her head against the soft fur-filled pillow, perfectly snug in crook of Malenia's neck. She had no need of blood, not tonight, yet the pulse filling her ears was comforting and sating all on its own.
Malenia kissed her forehead slowly, her lips lingering. "What's Delphine going to say? I butchered that old idiot she called a friend."
"You called me a friend too."
They were friends, admittedly. Serana smiled against her pillow. She'd never had friends in the past. Not with the danger of assassination and political scheming so great, nor afterward, with the courtiers of the castle scheming for Lord Harkon's attention. Only the skeletons and skeevers of the sewers had been her company.
She resolved not to count Mother. Not after the betrayal. Not after Dimhollow.
If this is friendship, she thought with her hands roaming along Mal's exposed chest and hip, I don't want to let go. Not now and not ever.
"Good friends?"
Malenia kissed her again. "Maybe. If you behave."
They stayed that way for a long while. Unburdened like this, it gave Serana the chance to think. She'd been stabbed, and though the agony in her spine remained when she shifted too suddenly, she was not the focus of attention here. It was Malenia. Always her Malenia. Malenia, who had protected her when none else had cared, who was sweet and caring and gentle just as she could be a flaming bitter whirlwind, who Serana longed to explore every detail of, to commit the entirety of her to memory…
Her hand grasped the Amulet of Mara, giving it a squeeze before her touch found Mal once more. A lock of hair, memories, none mattered, in the end.
Not as long as she had Malenia with her.
"I'll keep you safe." She held the mortal in her arms tighter. "Whatever it takes."
For you.
Chapter 9: Black-Briar
Notes:
I'm sorry about the longer wait on this chapter! I really hope you enjoy ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
"You cannot be serious. No you cannot be serious!"
Malenia crossed her arms. Her voice was coolly toned, matter-of-fact. "I am." Dead. And you'll be too. Esbern had been a mistake. Delphine, if she kept to this charade, would be wholly deliberate.
"Dead," grunted Delphine, staring, her fists clenched. When she spoke again, she was distant and detached. "Tell me how."
The scene had unfolded in her thoughts a thousand times over, on the way from their own room to the Breton's chambers. What use was there lying? Malenia thumbed for Dawnbreaker's warped hilt, hidden in the depths of her furred burgundy cloak.
Were it not for Hermaeus Mora and whatever in Oblivion he wanted from her, she seriously considered it.
One strike, one stab, one kill.
Serana, close by her side, cleared her throat. "We were too late, the Thalmor—"
"Thalmor didn't do it." The redhead held Delphine's gaze. "It was me."
She nearly lunged when she saw that look. One of scorn; of red-hot scalding hatred. Could the idiotic Blade not understand that she'd had no choice? That she was held in thrall by a fucking Daedric Lord? But Malenia could not explain.
Not to Delphine… and not to Serana.
"Choose your next words very carefully."
Delphine took a threatening step closer.
"What exactly do you mean that it was you?"
"It was me." Rosy fingers tightened around Dawnbreaker's hilt. "I killed him. Lunged on him, tore his eyes out, wrangled that wrinkled neck of his." And before she could stop her blabbering, "And I'd do it again."
She'd need to be thorough, lest Delphine might nurture suspicions of her own. Malenia had enough of those as it was.
When the Blades agent unsheathed the orcish dagger at her hip, Malenia let her. She stayed put, Dawnbreaker poised though still away, as she glared at the older woman advancing with murder glinting in the steely depths of her bagged eyes.
Cold calloused fingers wrapped tersely around her throat, snagging on the scars and earning a wince from the redhead, who was nearly at the ends of her patience. Watch it, she wanted to say, before I send you to your precious Esbern. She was still not entirely convinced that Esbern, let alone Delphine, would be of any aid in finding and slaying the World-Eater.
How could one man and one woman be so useful?
"I know who you are," the elder Breton muttered. Her flaxen brows drew together. As she spoke, the faint smell of alcohol reeked closer. "So I will give you one chance to talk. More than you ever gave Esbern, I'll bet. So talk."
Malenia growled. Beside her, Serana scoffed under her breath.
Ocean-blue eyes trailed lazily to the old faded scar crossing Delphine's neck. The obvious make of an elven blade. Before this day was done, perhaps Malenia might add to it. "What the fuck did you expect? You send me and Serana, and those other two morons, and think that'd be enough? There were Thalmor. Too many."
"That does not excuse—"
"They attacked me," Serana cut in. "Agmaer tried… but he couldn't save me. It was either leave me there to die, or abandon the mission." Her sight looked away, ashamed. "Esbern got in the way."
It was not wholly a lie, Malenia allowed. And believable. Even if Serana struggled to say it.
"So you chose a vampire, over the last archivist of the Blades." Delphine huffed in exasperated rage. She seemed unsure whether to strangle Malenia, or pace about at random, or threaten Serana instead. Which only would've earned her a swift death. "Oh no, not just a vampire, your friend. How could I forget? Bring it here, a fucking liabilty, and now that wretched fiend has cost us everything. Do you know how long I've searched for Esbern? Do you have the faintest little damnable—"
Malenia shoved her knee into the other woman's chest. In the brief distance created, she unfurled Dawnbreaker, twirled the Daedric sword around to expose the rounded hilt, and cracked Delphine across the face.
She could handle insults. She could handle threats.
But not when they were aimed at Serana.
"Not it," she stated coolly, staring at the Breton now sprawled across the inn's floor. "She."
"Out." Delphine never bothered to stand again, her eyes now teary, and hateful. "Get out! OUT!" She jerked a gloved hand towards the door. "And don't you dare even think to come back without a solution. You will fix this."
I will kill you. Malenia preferred that thought better. Delphine should have considered herself lucky to be breathing at all. And were it not for Hermaeus Mora, and Serana and Agmaer nearby, the smouldering flame simmering in the redhead's heart would have overpowered her entirely. When she felt a cold yet gentle touch ghost across her wrist, coaxing her into lowering Dawnbreaker, she relented.
"You didn't have to hit her," Serana cooed.
"She didn't have to call you wretched either." It was me. Malenia spared the fallen Blade one final look. Whatever Delphine's relationship with Esbern had once been no longer mattered. And it was all her fault. "She looks better with a broken nose, besides."
That made the vampire smirk a little. "Fine. She can heal from that. I guess I should be happy you didn't tear her hand off, or worse."
The touch drifted further upward, now holding Malenia's left shoulder in a light caress. She turned, ocean-blue meeting the dimmed red-rimmed glow as Serana's lips pressed against her own. A phantom pain flew into her heart, but she willed it away.
She could not allow anything to ruin this.
She kissed Serana back just as gently, then smiled at the relieved look she saw. It did not matter to her that Delphine was there still, quietly watching as she nursed the rivulets of red flowing from her nose.
Agmaer too, damn him, was in the room as well. The fool had neglected to speak at all, until now. "So… what solution do we have?"
"Solution." Malenia rolled her eyes. "Esbern was a relic living in a sewer." She stared at the Dawnguard hunter sternly; whilst she had prioritised everything on saving Serana from the clutches of the Thalmor, and escaping the Ratway intact, she had also instructed that Agmaer briefly stay behind and grab whatever he thought of note from Esbern's hideaway. "What did you find?"
"Not much," said Agmaer. "He was investigating the dragons, thinking it was all connected. Alduin is bringing the dragons back to life." When he realised that particular information was nothing new, he continued. "And there is a prophecy. Something about the ancient Akaviri, the Empire, the Dragonborn, and Alduin's Wall? But none of the notes say where it could be."
If it was related to the Empire, then surely answers might be found in Solitude. There was no better place, no higher city for the Imperial and Thalmor scum to scurry to inside of Skyrim.
Months had passed since then. Since the attack on the Thalmor Embassy. Malenia did not think she would find Elenwen in the capital, nor any other Dominion dregs worth fussing over, yet being so close to where her target had escaped vengeance unnerved her still.
Elenwen had likely forgotten of their encounter, but Malenia never would. She dreamed of it without end, and longed for the day her sword would sap the life from the elf.
Serana tapped her chin. "But we must find Brelyna first."
A muted tsk was all of the redhead's response. She turned for the door, muttering, "Let's move," as she went.
"Just like that? No protesting?"
She turned to face the vampire again. "What's the point? You never listen, do you?"
The grin that stretched onto those pale lips was almost playful. "No, but you are adorable when you try."
"I am not." Fucking Divines above, she was any describable damned emotion except for adorable. That word had not a single association with her. Not in the slightest. Why had she even bothered to entertain that thought? And so fucking what if heat rushed to her rosy cheeks at the mention of it, and her eyes shot to Serana's gentle smile, and, and—
"Mmm." Cold fingertips reached to cradle her face as Serana stepped closer, her arms enveloping Malenia in an embrace. "Only a little."
She had woken up that day with her face buried in the thick dark soft curls of Serana's hair; it had grown ever since Dimhollow Crypt, all those months ago, reaching almost down to Serana's back, and though she at least tried to keep it tidy, she never could quite regain her composed look. It suited her.
They retraced their steps into the Ratway, past the incessant mumblings that continued even now, the rounded corners, and Esbern's room-turned-tomb. Torches illuminated the dim tepid halls, though save for the stench of death and the scurrying of skeevers, things had calmed down since Malenia had been here last.
"Here," She pointed. "I was standing here when I… lost myself. And I haven't seen Brelyna since."
What was it about that Dunmer girl, anyways? Just who in their right mind would choose to accompany a vampire, willingly, and a Dragonborn who had taken leave of her actions?
Were things to carry on like this, Malenia thought that stupidly curious mage wouldn't live to see the end of it.
"No more splitting up, then," said Serana. She glanced about, but chose not to enter the blood-rusted door leading to Esbern. "Delphine mentioned thieves down here. Remember? Brelyna might've taken refuge with them."
"Refuge? With cowards who won't even kill?"
Red-rimmed eyes gave her a look. "You better hope they won't kill. I'm not letting her go. She saved my life, and she was there for me when you were… you know." She nodded politely, looking at Agmaer. "And you were too. We do not abandon each other."
Agmaer quickly returned the gesture. "Right. We don't. Never. Friends."
"That is far too fucking bold." With a huff, Malenia marched down the stairs she spotted, deeper into the Ratway.
What felt like hours passed. This corner, that corner, one locked grateway, vagrants, cutpurses, the smell…
How had they gone from the sights of the Forgotten Vale, and Blackreach besides, to this? When Malenia closed her eyes, she could still faintly spot the hues of velvety purple and blood-crimson and gold, drifting across the glimmering horizon as she and her vampire sat in one another's arms on a cliff overlooking the Vale. The promises they had made, Serana's gentle breaths tickling the nape of her neck, and the trembling terror she had felt when Vyrthur, that Oblivion-fucked worm, had snatched Serana away from her.
Even then she had worried about Hermaeus Mora's influence, even before they had kissed, the warmth and chill of the other woman's body pressed tightly against her, the thought alone threatening to reduce Malenia to a slobbering mess as she shoved open yet another rotten old door—
The redhead frowned at the sight she saw.
People. There were people, here.
Tepid water fell from somewhere high above, and a rotund puddle had formed below, surrounded by rotten fences, a rotten walkway, and what seemed to her even more rotten patrons. It looked like a tavern of sorts.
"Why would anyone come to drink here?" Agmaer wondered aloud.
"Brelyna might have come here," Serana mused, cradling her chin thoughtfully. "It's still a sewer, but safer with people."
Safer from me. Malenia grimaced at the thought. Brelyna had ran, terrified of her, that loss of control. And if she had lost herself in the presence of the Dunmer… how long before it happened again, when she was alone with the woman she loved?
Fucking hells, this was precisely why she had insisted on braving it alone. Why did she have to listen?
A soft voice reached her ears, shushing away her doubts, her fears. "It doesn't feel the same, does it?"
Malenia knew what Serana meant. Hermaeus Mora was gone, for the time being. There was no danger of her losing herself. Not now.
"No."
Gentle lips kissed her temple, then her cheek, then tilted her head in search of her rosy red lips.
Serana squeezed the fingers in her grasp, passing through the leather Malenia wore. "Why did you have to wear gloves?"
"What, you can't handle not touching me for a little while?"
"Don't tell me you can bear it."
The redhead feigned indignance, even as she offered the vampire now safe and perfectly snug in her arms a smile. "I can. And I don't care."
"No?" A thought seemed to form in Serana's mind. "So what if I just…"
Without warning, she dipped her head lower, her mouth parting just as thin elegant fangs embedded into Malenia's exposed throat, sweet-sharp, achingly tender.
Rosy lips pressed together to stifle a yelp. Ocean-blue eyes watered. Malenia drowned in the endless ecstasy of it, her mind swarmed by the thought of the two of them in bed only mere hours ago; the long silken dark curls teasing over her bare body just as Serana's cold fingers touched her, caressed over her nose and unruly scarlet locks, just like the one now stuffed inside the Amulet of Mara, and then down to her neck, her slender shoulders, her, her…
Agmaer cleared his throat, his voice awkward. "Someone coming…"
"Shut—"
The vampire pulled away with a huff, face forlorn at them being severed, yet she grinned all the same. "Don't care, hmm?"
"Insufferable." Malenia sighed to hide her exasperation. "Utterly fucking awful."
The man that approached was ever more hideous up close, and Malenia's irritation only grew. First the idiot saw fit to interrupt them, and now he had the gall to speak to them?
"Never seen you before," he grumbled, flaxen hair matted by sweat and dirt. He reeked. "Never seen the last one neither. Don't like all y' newcomers down 'ere." Grumbling still, he shifted his sight to Malenia, whose blush still hadn't crawled away yet. "What's your problem?"
The redhead crossed her arms. Stop thinking, she hammered into her head. Stop thinking about her. "I'm staring at it."
"You prickly little—"
An arm extended to stop her. "What do you mean the last one?" Serana asked, facing the burly Nord.
"Was some elf girl stumbled her way down the night before. When she realised just where she was, was too late."
Malenia glared in mounting rage, the ice in her stare melted by the sweltering fury bubbling within. "If you've fucking killed her…"
"Kill?" The Nord tore a laugh. "No kill, girl, we've just kept her down here with us. Vekel and Brynjolf seems to've taken a liking to her, but she seems to prefer Vex. So you've come to fetch her?"
"No—"
Serana tsked. "Yes."
"Fine." The man's boots made a slight squelching sound on the wet wood as he walked. "Come."
It was only when he turned that the redhead could notice the gentle jade of Serana's eyes. When had she taken the time to hide away her vampiric nature?
She grabbed hold of Serana's arm, gently, then twirled the other woman around into her arms again. "What was I saying?"
Serana blinked. She was so beautiful—
"Something about me being awful? I do try to inspire awe." She bent forward again, her tongue rising to lap away the stray trails of blood from the freshly-made pin-pricks.
Malenia opened her mouth, only to close it again. She was at a loss for words, her thoughts still drawn to the fangs she knew were there even now, hidden, lying in wait…
…and there was nothing she wished for more.
A knot formed in the pit of her belly, the delightful ache begging to be relieved by gentle fingers and even sweeter lips.
How could she not stop thinking of this, even now?
How was it that kisses, sleeping in one another's hold, even that wonderful bath in the depths of Castle Volkihar, wouldn't abate the shivers and these stupid stupid stupid fucking flutters that ran through her every time she so much as caught a glimpse of her beloved vampire?
"I hate you," she said firmly, kissed Serana's cheek, then nudged her towards the patrons drinking in this tepid rathole of a sewer, just as the flaxen-haired Nord turned to wait.
A wave of irritation crawled through her bones once they entered the tavern, named the Ragged Flagon after the patched wooden sign depicting a hooded woman with a dagger in one hand and an overflowing mug of mead in the other, chased by what Agmaer loudly ascertained to be mocking depictions of the guards of Riften. The tavern was quite active; the tables were all filled, one tall bald Breton was ravishing the Flagon with tall tales of his exploits, and in the dimly-lit distance one Dunmeri woman timidly spoke of her skills to change one's face.
"More of you, eh?"
The voice belonged to a red-haired Nord, dressed extravagantly enough given the locale; his golden tooth glinted in the torchlight.
"You look like your pockets are a little light on coin, am I—"
"Spare me the fucking swindling," Malenia snapped. "Do you have Brelyna or not?"
"Expecting free information, eh? Well, if you must know, yes, we do have one girl right here with us, and she does say her name's Brelyna. But why should we just give her up?" The man eyed Malenia sternly. "Girl looked downright terrified when she first stumbled through the Flagon. Knocked over tables, broke some bottles, even pushed poor old Niruin into the cistern. So she's got some debt needs paying."
Agmaer stepped forward. "How much is it? We could—"
"No, we are not paying."
Ridiculous.
Even if they had the Septims in hand, what made these thieves think that she had any intention at all to play by their pathetic little rules?
"It's not a matter of coin," said the man. "Name's Brynjolf. You help me out and I'll help you out. That's just how it is."
"Help you how?" Malenia had some ideas. Unburdening his head from his square shoulders, for one. Or dirtying his idiotically elegant garb. Or plucking a finger, one after another, until he relented and released Brelyna. A snarl escaped her lips; she could practically feel Serana's gaze upon her. "Steal something, I bet. Because you're too fucking useless to do it yourself."
"Couldn't have been more crass if I tried. Now. Goldenglow Estate brought in a mountain of gold for the Guild. You could almost call it our sweetest deal. Then out of the clear blue, its owner, Aringoth, stops sending us our cut. Mercer was… well, angry to put it kindly. So we send in Vex and find out he's hired mercenaries to guard the place."
They truly were useless, then. Malenia almost laughed. If one of their own had failed to infiltrate this Goldenglow, what chance did a handful of strangers have?
And why ever would Brynjolf entrust her?
"No."
Brynjolf blinked. "I thought I was clear enough, lass, if you—"
"I'm not infiltrating some estate on the word of some thief." The redhead pointedly ignored the vampire's enchanted glare. "Brelyna is not enough. I want more."
And if she asked for too much, perhaps Brynjolf would refuse. And then perhaps she could end this pointless waste of her time before the day was done.
She didn't need Brelyna, she certainly as shit did not need Agmaer….
She only needed her.
Bushy red brows drew together in consternation. Brynjolf's incessant voice drifted away. Malenia's thoughts focused on the man sipping his drink only a few tables away. She thought she had recognised him, even as she had dreaded the possibility, and shoved the thought from her mind almost immediately.
Delvin Mallory.
His topaz eyes had met her own once, though recognition never flashed. He did not remember her. Biting down a snarl, she shouldered past Brynjolf and kicked a chair out from her way. The Breton dressed in full leather garb stared up at her.
"Brynjolf, eh? Lemme guess. He plucked you off the street and dropped you into the thick o' things—"
"Shut the fuck up."
That voice was familiar too. Once, Delvin had done business with the Brotherhood, supplying them with wine and mead and all the various little essentials too difficult for the likes of Festus and Arnbjorn to pilfer themselves. That the thief was now in some shitty Skyrim sewer instead of Cyrodiil could be a sign for the better. Or for the absolute worst.
Dread slithered its gnarly claws into the redhead's chest. If Astrid's contact was here…
"The Brotherhood. The Dark Brotherhood. Tell me everything you know of them."
Delvin stared, before he barked out a laugh. "What do I look like to you, girl, a walkin' book? Go find a library if you're so very interested."
Smug asshole. Malenia pictured Dawnbreaker unsheathed, poised to strike. "Just answer. What have they been doing these last few months? Which of them are still alive? Which have died?"
And that which unnerved her most.
"Astrid."
"Oh." The name finally caught the thief's attention. "Oh I see. Well now, if you know Astrid… why not tell her to stop by some time? We can have a drink. Catch up." Was he nervous? "Ah, but we can discuss that later, yeah? What does the Brotherhood need?"
Malenia was quick to wipe the look of confusion from her face. Her rosy features twisted into a mirthless smirk. She cast a glance at Brynjolf, now debating whatever it was that he wanted with Serana and Agmaer. Terms of payment, maybe. And though she did not wish to see Brelyna dead, or see the Dunmeri mage at all, come to think of it, Malenia knew that overcurious little witch was a friend of Serana's. And so it mattered to her too.
But first…
"We need nothing," she told Delvin, angling her head as her ocean-blue eyes flashed with malice. "But I need information. I haven't been to Bravil in some time; where is Astrid?"
"Oh you haven't heard?"
"Heard?"
Could it be that Astrid had finally been slain? After Arnbjorn's demise in the smoking embers of Fort Dawnguard, Malenia could only hope that the rest of those bloodthirsting bloody wretches so-called a family had met a similar deserved fiery end.
Delvin Mallory shrugged, his hand reaching for the mug yet again. "Your Sanctuary in Bravil's gone to rubble. Almost a year ago, if I remember it right. Thought you knew, seeing as you're here in Skyrim—"
"Astrid is in Skyrim."
Fucking Oblivion—
"Yes. Oh yes. And something's gotten her downright pissed. Man knows better than to ask. Bad for business, you see."
Malenia's frown deepened, her fist curling and her nails prodding until the leather of her glove tore slightly and a thin red line trickled down the length of her wrist. She knew perfectly damn well just what Astrid was so mad about. Were rage not flowing through her freely now, she might have laughed. She had butchered that wolf husband of Astrid's. And she hadn't taken the time to revel in the bliss of it, not with Serana having consumed her so fully since then.
She sighed and chewed down hard on her rosy lower lip.
Astrid was here.
The Dark Brotherhood had acted as her saviours, once. Malenia trembled at the thought. They'd taught her to wield a sword, to intimidate and to shakedown and to murder.
If ever she faced Astrid again, that woman would meet her end too.
Wordlessly, she marched away from Delvin, her boots carrying her back to Brynjolf. The Nord turned as she approached. "As I told your friends here," he started, "I am willing to pay. Not alot — I am reasonable to a point — but enough to see that you get the job done. Goldenglow's primary purpose is honey. The bee hives around the property are built like fortresses to resist the weather, but their one weakness is fire." He glanced at Serana. "Lass here tells me she's a mage. So there's your in. Burn down the hives, sneak inside, and find what's got Aringoth so agitated."
Malenia left the Ratway and Riften without another word. Outside the city gates, Goldenglow Estate was clear, a slab of wood and stone atop the largest island of Lake Honrich.
Just as Brynjolf had said, the property was crawling with mercenaries, dressed in indistinct garb in lieu of the guards' uniform. At this time of day, things seemed quiet enough. One misstep, and that tranquility would be shattered.
"So we swim," said Agmaer, shaken slightly.
Scarred fingers curled into a tightened fist. "I'm not going through that shit again." After the Forgotten Vale, the icy lake and the dragons, the redhead couldn't think of anything she'd wished of less. "We force our way in, kill those brutes, and find Aringoth."
"…and alert half of Riften in the process."
Malenia turned to glare at Serana, who stood with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed in thought. Did the vampire have any other ideas?
Her hand hovered near Dawnbreaker's rounded hilt. An all-too familiar voice soothed into her thoughts, deep and rumbling, whispering to her the very same words that had led to Esbern's demise only a few short days before.
Malenia salivated.
Her touch curled around her sword, poised to unfurl; to kill, first the blonde vampire hunter and then—
"Mal?"
A shaky breath escaped her. "What?"
Serana's hand fell upon her shoulder, holding her steady. "Don't forget the honey hives. I could create a distraction, and you sneak in. No swimming."
I could create a distraction. Her nostrils huffed in annoyance, and something she could not bring herself to name. I could. Not we.
That damn selfless nature would only get Serana hurt again, or worse.
"What about you? I'm not letting you just stay."
Serana kissed her forehead, then her cheek, voice silken and a murmur. "Someone has to keep watch. Just in case someone passes by. A guard, a farmer…"
Malenia shook her head. "Not you."
The bite marks on her neck tingled faintly. Goldenglow, the Ratway, Riften itself, it had all been a fucking waste. Esbern was slain, and the misfortune of seeing Delphine again was their sole reward. Solitude had to be the key, Malenia knew, or the numerous ancient tomes of Winterhold, or even Whiterun, if that old relic of a Jarl saw fit to invite her again. Solitude was the center of the Empire in Skyrim, and all of the knowledge they held. And its Jarl was some young woman, if she remembered.
She turned to look at the wet stones of the walkway below. What might they even do in Solitude? Come across Valla and Sarra, those twin misbegotten girls forced into servitute inside the Thalmor Embassy? Malenia sometimes wondered about them. Had they found a good life after that massacre? Had they been thrown to the streets… or had they met their fate too?
She snarled. Why in Oblivion did she care?
Such things had never bothered her before. She had killed, butchered, maimed, she had taken without consideration, and had slept just fine at night without any of this crushing gnawing awful persistent guilt.
"Agmaer will watch," she declared sternly, with a voice that left no room for disagreement. "Go find some bush to hide in. You see anyone suspicious coming into the estate, you scream. Then you run. We'll catch up."
The blonde coward nodded. "And you?"
Ocean-blue eyes turned to look upon Goldenglow once more. Enter, find Aringoth, question, leave.
Simple.
As if anything was ever simple.
With Serana scurried off on one of the dirt paths to the side of Goldenglow Estate, Malenia laid in wait just by the front gates, by the main bridge. She clicked her tongue absently, staring at the two meandering guards atop the battlements.
One blink.
The world was drowned in red. Carnage overflowed from their emptied eyesockets, gore and a torrential rain of bitter black death—
She blinked again. The world shifted to normality once more.
It would have been an easy thing to slaughter both of those fools, and leave their bodies broken and butchered to fester in the lake, yet that would only arouse more suspicion. The resounding boom that reached her ears was more than welcomed; the redhead's patience was already razor-thin.
"What in Oblivion was that?"
The second guard faced the first, just as confused — then startled. "The hives! Go, GO!"
Malenia wasted no time. Her boots made a dull wet thud on the wood of the bridge as she took hold of a plankard and hoisted herself up and over the front gate. Those mercenaries hadn't been foolish enough to all flee in search of Serana, though the remaining few were not any trouble at all for Malenia. Hurry, she thought as she ducked behind a stack of barrels.
Hurry, Serana.
The tall archgates she saw were much-too exposed to bother even approaching. Instead, Malenia emerged from her cover and sprinted across the breadth of Goldenglow, reaching the backdoor.
Cerulean eyes glared with ire at the lock blocking the way. The redhead slammed the weight of her boot into the wooden door, then reeled it back with a snarl. If only she'd still had her hand, if only she hadn't been so very fucking stupid…
"Not here," one woman called out from somewhere behind, "not here! Keep looking. I caught a glimpse; a girl with black hair."
Malenia's heart lurched. Serana had been seen. And if the vampire got so much as a scratch on her, the whole deal was off. Goldenglow would lose far more than its hives, and these mercenaries far more than merely their pitiful lives. She turned at the Hm, she heard, finding the very same woman, an Imperial with coppery-light skin and glinting metal armour and a crossbow poised to—
A strangled yelp erupted from the mercenary at the feel of a vampire's fangs in her neck, quickly stifled as Serana tore out a chunk of flesh then bent the woman into a huddled pile behind a barrel, out of sight.
She wiped her bloodied mouth consciously. "Sorry."
Malenia stood up, glanced pointedly at the other woman, then smashed her rosy lips to hers. Serana gasped but returned the kiss, managing muffled grins and giggles whenever they stopped, and she stared deep into ocean-blue eyes.
"Idiot."
Serana kissed her again. "You're the one who got seen."
"You're the one doing this in the midst of this shit." The mercenaries were still on the prowl, and it was only a matter of time before that woman would wake, even with a gnarled wound in her throat. Serana had saved everything yet again, as she seemed to oft do; Malenia couldn't brush away the smile on her lips as her nose playfully touched the vampire's, then stole away another kiss, then another. "Stop stalling and let's go."
"Right." Serana seemed winded now, her pale face aflame. "Right, yes." She stared at the lock blocking the way, then turned towards the redhead. "You can't…?"
"Not anymore." Not without my hand.
Nodding, Serana bent on one knee as she fished a lockpick and a knife from her corset, her ebony brows knitted deep in thought. The first lockpick to break was expected. Serana was rather useless with the things.
The sharp clink of the second breaking earned a scoff from the redhead, just as Serana grunted, exasperated, her hands reaching for a third.
If only Malenia could help, somehow.
If only that damnable fool hadn't torn away her hand, that fucking Dexion Evicus, all those months ago…
"Fucking shit," Serana mumbled as the third pick, too, shattered.
A guard was moving now, closer, closer, closer, sword in hand, and just barely visible from their hiding place in the corner of Goldenglow Estate. Malenia held Dawnbreaker, rosy knuckles turned bone-white by the sheer force of her grasp. The golden glowing sword would easily kill that idiot if he saw them, just as well as it would alert the entire fucking band of idiots.
Hurry, Serana.
Malenia's lips curled to a smirk when the lock gave way and the door was shoved open, just in time for her to slip in after Serana.
Once safe inside, she wrapped her arms around the vampire, giving her a chastising look. "Took you long enough."
"But not bad for a spoiled princess, mmm?"
Her red-rimmed eyes seemed to take an other-wordly quality in the dim of the nearby torches. Her skin sparkled, and when she smiled and her fangs poked out from her delicious lips Malenia could scarcely bear it, her thoughts turned to the morning when she woke to the feel of her bare body pressed against Serana's, chill yet also warm, so soft—
She squeezed Serana's shoulder gently. "I could've done it with one pick."
"You would've broken the entire door, most probably. And killed all the guards. And found a way to destroy this entire island too, somehow."
"And?"
"And ruined the whole job." Serana gave her a look. A grin. "You'd be totally lost without me."
Then don't leave me. "Whatever."
She couldn't stare at her anymore, lest her senses left her entirely and she'd have Serana right there and now.
Goldenglow was empty on the inside, and nowhere near as lavish as either of them had expected, though it was still far more precious than anything the scum of Riften could muster.
Aringoth was an Altmer, Brynjolf had mentioned, dressed in distinct furs and silks. Question, don't kill. Unless the elf refused to talk.
The Thieves Guild had attempted to break into Goldenglow before, to no avail. How had the morons failed such an easy job?
Malenia pushed the thought of the Guild away as she pressed forward, eyes searching in the dim for Aringoth. Past the kitchens, past the expansive library with books thrown this way and that, the study where a chair had been knocked over and neglected.
She'd only just barely spotted an already-opened safe in the next room when she heard.
"I was wondering when one of you would show your face."
The two women turned to the source of the sound. Malenia gritted her teeth.
Who in Oblivion…
"Well then stop skulking about. It's no use now." She was another Nord, clearly enough. Older, dressed in finery, with darkened brown hair braided behind her head. Flakes of silver could be seen within. "Must I repeat myself? Yes, yes, one of those sorry little fools in the Ragged Flagon put you up to this, but seeing as they've sent another cutthroat before and failed, it is clear to me that if I want a job done well, I'd best do it myself. Aringoth has been spoken with, if you must know."
Serana stared. "And you are…?"
The woman scoffed. "Really are dim-witted, aren't you? And when has the Guild taken to recruiting bloody vampires? You lot are truly getting desperate."
Vampires. Malenia's heart jostled. Serana's nature had been discovered; if this smug stranger had even the faintest thought…
Her sharp charcoal eyes landed on her. "Tell me you at least understand." When she was met with a blank look, she could only press her lips into a lowly briskly tsk. "Useless. Why does Mercer bother at all? Recruits strangers, recruits vampires, and doesn't even bother to tell them who their employer is." She waved her arms in a flourish, her elegance now clear even in the shadows. "I am Maven Black-Briar."
"Who?"
Maven struck Malenia a withering glare. "Who? Who? The matriarch of Clan Black-Briar? Owner of the Meadery, and all Riften besides. And the one funding for your little incursions. Just how stupid are you?"
"Just how fucking dead do you want to be?"
"Ooh. Feisty. Not completely lacking a backbone, at the least." Her eyes narrowed, taking in the sight, examining both of them, though Malenia in particular, with extreme care. After some time, she nodded in apparent approval. "Very well. You were clever enough to break in here undetected, and stupid enough to accept such folly."
Serana stood, no longer bothered with sneaking, her arms crossed. "Just tell us what you want."
Maven turned. "The Guild is in shambles, if you haven't noticed. My own son is busy rotting in a cell, lavish as it is. The rest of the family is occupied with their own business. I have a job for you. Accept, and this will be put to rest. I'll triple whatever the Guild offered. Deny me… well. I should think you know very well where that road leads."
With you making threats and me stabbing you until you stopped smirking. Malenia took solace in that thought, but did not voice it. She waited, her patience frayed, for the old matron to speak.
Satin-bound hands reached for an old tome on the nighttable. Maven Black-Briar read silently, her brows quirking at whatever was said on the pages, before she resumed her attention to the would-be intruders. "Ever been to the Blue Palace of Solitude? Oh, what am I saying, of course you haven't. That is where the High King of Skyrim used to hold his court, before he up and died months ago. Foolish Torygg. Now Jarl Elisif rules, but the girl is young and inexperienced. We shall use that to our advantage."
"Kill the Jarl," mumbled Malenia, wondering how it might feel to sink her blade into living flesh not that of the Thalmor. It had been a rather long while, admittedly.
She missed it, if she were being honest.
The feel of a heartbeat stilled, red-hot blood rushing between her fingers, its sweet yet salty smell, the sheer utter terror so many of them felt, painted clearly on their faces just before she slaughtered them without a shred of mercy.
Or perhaps it was the Daedric Lord haunting her thoughts.
"Kill? Such a flair for the dramatic. No, no. The two of you will walk into the banquet being hosted at moon's end. Mingle with the guests, knock your glass to the Jarl's, and do your very best to not come across as the dim-witted peasants you so clearly are."
Solitude, a stone's throw away from the Thalmor Embassy. The redhead grimaced.
What if some snotty noble recognised her? Some survivor, one pointed finger, and all would come crashing down again. The very beating heart of the Thalmor was likely Solitude now too, with their precious fortress a smoldering wreck. But it was Solitude, and the Blue Palace besides, where she figured she'd find the answers to stopping Alduin. With Esbern gone, they had no true choice.
"Fine," she said. Ocean-blue eyes lingered on the elder Nord's carefully-crafted features, betraying nothing.
Why was Maven willing to trust so easily?
"But you must release Brelyna first," said Serana. "Tell the Guild. Tell them to release her. The rest of our payment can come after we do… whatever this is."
Maven was sitting now, one leg hanging lazily over the other, her leather boots making a soft tap-tap-tap and leaving muddied trails all over Aringoth's carpets. "Done. But only because you value your life so little as to make your demands. That particular flavour of zealotry is in such short supply nowadays." Some thought made her laugh. "The Imperials and Stormcloaks have been battling for nearly a year, now. And in Solitude lies the document that had elected Torygg to High King. The Moot. Should be in Elisif's office, if I had to assume it. You broke into Goldenglow. You can break into some young girl's study."
But that young girl is the High Queen of Skyrim.
Malenia offered the woman a curt nod. So long as it got her into Solitude, that was enough.
The next hours passed in a wild whirl. The Black-Briars offered them dresses, suits, all of the high-pitched and towering and utterly infuriating thugs that peppered both her and the vampire with swindles and scams and scams and scams and scams. Malenia had nearly murdered one; and thought of doing the same to the rest. But in the end, she picked the least garrish gown for herself, and took it back to the Bee and the Barb.
Alone, she warily tried it on, if only to confirm its size, its utterly demented sowing. Who in their right mind would elect to wear this? Me, came the thought, grim. The dress left her arms and shoulders bare, but the gloves reached up to her elbows, and the hem moved along the ground. Lightly-freckled nostrils flared as the metal arm, yet another provided by Delphine, snagged on the silk. The sound of tearing and ripping reached her ears.
It was only her going through this torture, at the least. If she had to stare upon Serana dressed as some sort of uppity-faced…
Sandals adorned the redhead's feet as she stomped them down, then glared one final time at her reflection, then stepped out—
Out of the backroom, whatever the vampire had been doing stopped at once. She stood, mouth agape, red-rimmed eyes wide with awe. As if there was anything to gawk over.
Malenia bent to smooth the worst of the wrinkles in her dress, alabaster sprinkled with furs and emeralds, but they were beyond infinite. She growled softly, and asked, "How do I look?"
Serana's face was aflame. "Perfect."
She gave her an incredulous stare. "How do I actually look? Without the simpering?"
"Hmm…" Serana scrunched up her nose. "I've seen much better, to be honest. There was this one noble at the castle, she—"
Her words were cut short by a sudden flurry of movement. Malenia grasped her by the wrist, and was quick to hold her once her legs buckled. Serana gave herself up completely, weightless in Malenia's gentle embrace.
She leaned in, capturing the vampire's lips into a kiss.
"Don't talk about other women," she murmured, eyes raking over Serana's blush, then kissesd her softly on the nose. "Or I'll tear your pretty little neck apart."
Serana blushed brighter. "You will…?"
"That was supposed to be a threat."
Try as she might, there was naught that Serana could do to hide the little flutter in her voice as rosy fingers roamed lightly over her blouse, poised to ghost just under in search of soft pallid skin. "When have you ever been threatening?"
Malenia could not smother the smirk on her face as she tilted the woman in her arms ever closer. "Don't lie. You're terrified."
Her lips stretched further 'til she felt herself wholly grinning at the sweet sensations of the sweet vampire's sweet fingers threading through the ragged red mess atop her head; the sole part of her that she hadn't bothered to adjust. How had she gone an entire lifetime without this?
How could she ever live without Serana?
"I am," said Serana, still busily moving. "Looks like a fox up and died on your head." Her hands were filled as she fiddled with the heavy locks, dirtied from the day yet still soft, "And keep still." She stopped then and now, staring.
Malenia blinked as heat reached her cheeks, "…What?"
"Beautiful." Serana's voice was a faint murmur — then she leaned forward so that her lips hovered just near, achingly close. "So beautiful…"
A kiss. Then another.
Against herself, Malenia felt her jaw clench. She drowned in the sweet softness of it, even as her mind whispered treachery, madness, fucking guilt. All that she had never felt before, all that flowed in waves of drowning death, engulfing her soul. Months of desire had led them both to this; she had died; she did not deserve—
"So are you." She regretted the words almost as quickly as she had said them.
But the way Serana looked at her with a bright gaze full of longing made it all the better.
Stupid.
Why did she have to adore that which she could never have?
She tore her eyes away just as tears prickled, to examine the vampire's work; the long mess of hair was now a braid hanging down to her waist, which Serana draped over her shoulder, taking in the smell of it.
Her voice was muffled by the hair still in front of her. "Have you ever thought about the future?" At Malenia's silence, she continued. "After Alduin, after Elenwen and everything else. What would you do?"
Die. "Don't know." Fall upon my sword. "Never thought about it." Dig a shallow grave. "Why?"
"Because…"
For a while she never said another word. She played with the braid, swinging it across Malenia's shoulder, then her own, though her mind was very clearly drawn in deep thought. A flash of pain showed, though it dissipated so quickly that Malenia almost wondered if she had dreamed it. And above the fear and hesitation and a certain pride that Serana emanated at the sheer thought of it:
"Because you deserve it."
"I do not fucking—"
I'm not letting you go.
"Hush." Serana placed a finger atop Malenia's lips. "Could I tell you what I wish for? I've never thought about it before, either. I'm just a relic from the wrong Era. And when I found you, when you found me inside that monolith and I found Father again, then I… I thought I would die alongside him. But maybe there can be more to it. Maybe I can build a life somewhere."
The redhead's gloved hand cupped the other woman's cheek. Her thumb stroked the skin tenderly. "What kind of life?"
Serana gave a little shrug. "A small farm. I can handle my garden without Mother glaring over my shoulder, or any of the castle courtiers, and perhaps animals to tend for. Cats, most certainly. A little black one. Before I was turned, we had one; none knew his real name, but all the courtiers called him Sheogorath. And dogs, and if you behave, I might even hold them from chewing off your other hand. And I want a view of mountains and the sea." Her nails ghosted over Malenia's exposed arms, lingering faint crimson trails in their wake. "And I want to be carried to bed every night."
"Oh, do you?" The redhead was quiet, her voice a low breathy rasp, though it also carried a hint of humour.
"I am a princess after all, am I not?"
Malenia leaned forward for a mournfully short, chaste kiss on the other woman's lips. "Are you? Then who is your prince?"
"Hmph." Serana pretended to think. "No-one." She stared at the redhead for only a moment before she pushed her down onto the chair, then straddled her hips. Razor-sharp fangs nibbled softly on Malenia's ear as she whispered, "But you are my queen."
Chapter 10: The Present
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rorikstead passed without event, rumbling in the quiet hours of dawn. Malenia had seen Imperial troops celebrating their recent so-called liberation of the town from the Stormcloaks, townsfolk shoving broken barrels and weapons and carts out of the way of the dirtroad.
Another day, and Solitude would come.
A plan had been formulated in her head already; enter the Blue Palace and mingle, as that stupid old crone had called it, then sequester herself within the backrooms. Past Jarl Elisif, past all the up-snouted partygoers. Agmaer could keep watch. Brelyna was amiable enough to keep the nobles distracted. And Serana could—
A strange gulp tumbled unexpectedly from her throat.
The redhead was unraveling, thread by quiet thread.
She felt it in all the soft silken touches that had ghosted over her countlessly. The delicate way pallid fingers had caressed her bare shoulders, over the lingering scars that no dress could ever hide, the mouthy kisses that had rained down over every explorable part of rosy light-freckled skin…
Malenia turned. Ocean-blue eyes narrowed, as if taking in the sight before them for the very first time. Entire days spent in this rumbling rickety cart. Still she had not grown used to it.
She felt it in the faintest touch; the brush of her thigh against another; the sweet snowberry scent that overflowed her senses. Serana's left leg lay propped against her right, her thumb and forefinger turning yet another page of the thick tome cradled in her lap. Her free hand toyed idly with Malenia's long thick braid, twisting it in her touch. Red-rimmed eyes peered across the words, and one elongated fang poked out from her mouth.
A pair of gloves lay discarded nearby. They would have to be worn inside the Blue Palace, but that was yet days away.
To hide the blisters.
Ever since Castle Volkihar… Serana had never healed. Vingalmo's flames had left their mark, engraved permanently within her skin, tainting her arms in a canyon of darkness that stung and burned and felt roughened to the touch. The blouse she wore was crimson, flowing, elegant.
Thoughts thickened in a mist-dark fog. Malenia was breathless, drowned in the fantasy of it — those short few nights were not enough, she needed more, her lips on Serana's, warm, cold, sure, gentle, the vampire pulled close, her own trembling fingers sliding beneath that blouse and tearing the thing off. And then maybe the redhead would lower herself, slowly, worshiping the length of Serana's body again and again and again endlessly. She desired, she obsessed, she—
"What is it?"
Malenia's heart lurched at the sudden voice, her lusting thoughts momentarily broken. But you are my queen. Her mind wandered to those words as well, what Serana had said, the conviction of it…
"Mal?" Those sweltering eyes were closer, now, intense. "Is something wrong?"
Mal. The redhead raked a trembling hand through her fiery curls, ocean-blue eyes drawn to the thin line marring Serana's alabaster-like cheek. She could not say whether it had happened in the bleak of Blackreach or elsewhere, but it infuriated her to no end.
Why did Serana have to suffer?
Why was she so pitifully fucking unable to stop it?
"But you are my queen."
Rosy lips leaned in, mingling with chilled pale ones, soft, gentle.
So are you, Malenia wanted to say, yet couldn't bring herself. Serana had brought her back from the brink, gifted her the hope that Elenwen and Astrid and all the rest of them had so very viciously torn away, and then stayed by her side even when she was a rotting butchered corpse. How could she ever let Serana know?
How could she make the vampire understand that it was all for nothing; that it was hopeless; that Hermaeus Mora would claim her soul sooner or late, forever-damning her to Apocrypha?
Heat bloomed across her face as she felt the other woman's tongue slipping hesitantly against the edges of her teeth. A muffled grin spilled from her as she pulled Serana closer, the old book tumbling away as those long slender arms wrapped tightly around her scarred shoulders. She pouted her lips, if only to glimpse a lovely smile and a sneer, explored a line of kisses down Serana's throat, past a faint-faded scar until she met the collar of her blouse.
They stayed there a while, wordless, Malenia's fingers tangled in the black strands, stroking the silks.
"Good?" Her voice came hushed, her face pressed into the top of Serana's head.
Serana managed a nod. "Good," she murmured, burying her face deeper into the redhead's chest, "but you must talk to me."
"I am talking—"
"Mal. You do this when you're scared." Her glowering eyes widened, and her pale cheeks became tinged by a delicate pink dusting as she grinned. "I don't mind, I just… I don't want you to hide. Not from me." Her embrace tightened. Malenia's heart thrummed in steady rythm against her. "Please."
Solitude, and the Thalmor Embassy much-too close for comfort. Returning felt like digging up the past, when the world itself was good as dead.
Hiding the tremour in her touch, she pressed her lips to the woman that she loved, her nails scraping against Serana's clothed back and wishing to savage away the blouse provided by the Black-Briars.
She'd insisted that Agmaer and Brelyna, accompanied by Maven's contact, take another cart. This was theirs.
"Mal." Serana's eyes were half-lidded, twin beacons of light barely visible beneath her pallid eyelids as her hips rocked eagerly against the redhead she now straddled. "Mal…"
Warm hands lifted to cradle the vampire's face, thumb stroking her chin, her lips.
Lustful though stubbornly persistent, Serana glared. "You're trying to distract me."
"It's working."
"It is not—" A low moan flowed sweetly from her throat as Malenia's tongue slithered across her face, her teeth scraping along. "I hate seeing you scared. Stop being such an idiot, mmm?."
Elenwen.
Too close, too fucking close.
"It's stupid." The redhead felt her shoulders tense, stiff at the quivering of her words. Stupid. Stupid. "Last time I was this close to Solitude, last time, I…" She had come here to die. To slaughter all the Thalmor scum-filth in her way, and to avenge her sister. To die alongside Elenwen. "I wasn't supposed to walk out of that smouldering wreck. Nothing since, nothing, has made any fucking sense."
Serana gulped audibly. Red-rimmed eyes met ocean-blue and stared intently. "Do you regret it? Coming back to the Fort?"
A shiver shook her; her face twisted painfully.
"…us?"
Malenia's hand took hold of the vampire's waist as her rosy lips pressed against Serana's, beyond gentle. Her sighs mingled with Serana's — not nearly enough to stifle the mournful mounting terror.
If there was anything at all to regret, it was fleeing to begin with.
She stared at the smooth skin of Serana's face, her blushing cheeks, the eyes that stared back so very tenderly even after so long that it ached. Lips parted; Malenia nearly spoke, nearly allowed the truth to damn them both—
"No," she told Serana. "I don't." She sealed her words with a kiss to the other woman's forehead, slow, lingering.
Their carriage rode for a while longer. In the peaceful silence, Malenia held her vampire close; scarred yet gentle fingers threaded through the black silken curls as Serana rested against the redhead's chest, lulled by the soft breaths. Every so often, her own hands would ghost across Malenia's bare shoulders, dark nails scratching just enough, reaching up to her collarbone before descending once again.
Thoughts drifted faintly. Serana dreamed of a quiet life, tending to a garden, animals perhaps, far-away from all the worries of the world. She deserved all that she wanted and more.
And deserved someone better than Malenia.
She forced herself not to snarl at her own chastising mind. For so long, she had never considered what the future might hold, save for her own bitter bloody butchered demise. For the first time in many years, reluctance allowed herself to dream. Waking with Serana in her arms, spending the endless days slowly with her, a small though overflowing library tucked away somewhere on their farm, and fields of gleamblossoms and mountain flowers and Deathbells. She could wear one of the velvety flowers twinned between her thick crimson curls, just like Serana had planted on that ghastly beach.
But reality always shattered delusion, sooner or late.
She had fought; she had died.
Whatever happened next was nothing short of judgement. After all the lives she had ended, extinguished between her merciless hold, damnation within the confines of Apocrypha seemed fitting enough. What Delphine and the Dawnguard and the Greybeards, and Maven Black-Briar and the rest… none of them mattered. For Hermaeus Mora would conquer all, in the end.
And Malenia would die too. Bleak. Dark. Permanent.
Serana shifted slightly, her leg dangling across Malenia's thigh. "I'm scared too," came her voice in a murmur.
Scarred arms tightened over her; Serana couldn't suppress a shiver as she melted further into the embrace. The thump-thump of her deathly pulse loudened as bitter unwanted memories clawed back into reality.
"You saw the castle, the state it was in. Even before Dimhollow, it was… changed." She spoke with a certain sense of nostalgia, and when Malenia allowed herself to peer downward, she spotted the faintest trails of tears on the vampire's pale cheeks. "After Molag Bal, Father had never cared to return to our past life. Servants became cattle, the windows were smothered with tar, and the parties," she spat the word akin to venom, "were nothing more than all the weak little counts and lords and ladies simpering before him. This is my first party in centuries. The first since…"
The first since you were turned.
Ocean-blue eyes snapped closed-shut just as a large tear slipped off the lash. Malenia suppressed the urge to scream, to curse Harkon to all the hellish eternities, for even infinity encased in the most degenerate dregs of Coldharbour would never be enough.
What Serana had suffered through that night, the sheer thought of it—
"I know it won't be the same," the woman safe in her arms went on, "but they all act the same. The nobles. All fake smiles, and a dagger behind their backs, and they would gladly sacrifice you if they thought to benefit from it." She dug her head deeper into Malenia's chest, chasing the warmth she found there. "They knew. All of them, Vingalmo, Garan, Orthjolf and Fura, they all knew. They knew what was awaiting me and they accepted it. All before I ever did."
She looked up. Tear-trailed crimson eyes burned intently into Malenia's memory. She was stared at as though she were some precious treasure, as though Serana may've stared at her for hours upon hours, if allowed. Rosy cheeks flamed; the redhead's breath stuttered, reduced to a mess by a mere gaze.
"But you were never that way. You were an ass from the very beginning." A weak laugh flowed smoothly from Serana, amused by her own jest, her forehead leaning against Malenia's, who mustered a reluctant smirk of her own. "But you cared. Mmm? Even back then?"
Malenia wanted to scoff. She had wanted to murder without mercy the vampire she would now sacrifice the world entire for.
How had that changed? And when?
The Forgotten Vale, when Serana had dragged her from that icebound lake and spent the night with her, the bath in the giant's grotto, the two of them alone and bare and unbothered by the woes of the world, and later on when they had cuddled atop the cliff? Or Blackreach, when her hand had found Serana's more times than she cared to admit, when they had very nearly kissed before Agmaer had ruined everything?
Amidst the scorching ruin of Fort Dawnguard, maybe, when Serana had spoken with her, cleaned the dried specks of werewolf blood from her face so very tenderly even after Malenia's betrayal?
Dawnstar, the climb to High Hrothgar, the loss of her right hand by that fucking fool of a man Dexion Evicus, Saarthal, the College of Winterhold, Morthal—
Dimhollow Crypt.
Malenia had been utterly without hope from the very first time she had laid eyes on her.
With Serana slowly falling aslumber in her arms, the carriage rode on.
It was on the third day that Solitude formed over the horizon, perched precariously on the rocky formation overlooking the mist-shrouded Sea of Ghosts; the tall azure spires of the Jarl's Palace were aswirl, gowned in shades of crimson and ivory and alabaster, glimmer against Skyrim's nightsky.
The sandals made a dull thud on the gravel road as Malenia hopped down the step. Beside her, Serana had already taken the time to illusion away her vampiric nature; her fangs retracted, her skin taken on a more lively-pink tone, and her eyes turned to a gentle green — the same colour she'd possessed in life. Wasting no time, she moved to pat down Wraith's milky white coat, whilst the other members of the journey also disembarked.
"…and Vex once stole the jewels from this massive manor, and with the owner being none the wiser! Another time…"
Malenia ignored Brelyna's incessant talking; ever since Riften, the Dunmer hadn't shut up at all about the thieves who had kidnapped her, and about some blonde named Vex in particular. Being in the midst of the Guild hadn't affected her at all. If anything, it was only a source of wonderment.
"I still can't say how she couldn't break into Goldenglow. But she could do anything, I know it! Oh, and let me tell you about…"
Beside her, Agmaer nodded timidly, offering no words of his own.
Malenia hid a smirk. At least the two fools were not bothering her.
"Do you think she missed Solitude?" asked Serana nearby, green eyes still focused on Wraith, who neighed pleasantly. "You stole her from here, didn't you? I… perhaps it was a bad idea to bring her along?"
The redhead shrugged. "Who can tell horses apart?"
Serana glared. "I can." She hugged Wraith's head, looking at the mare. "This is our girl."
A gruff voice coughed. His boots, though elegant, still trudged along the gravel as if made of steel, and the man who wore them was still every bit a big brute of a Nord, despite his garb and what little hair atop his head stylised. "Fucking thing took long enough," he spoke, grumbling, his stubby thick fingers gesturing towards his own carriage.
"Do we have a plan?" Malenia was not certain why Maven had insisted that this man, who went simply by Maul, accompany them. Maul looked utterly incapable of subtlety. One mistake, a single misstep, and the entirety of Solitude would be upon them.
"A distraction?" said Serana.
Maul tsked. "What in Oblivion could you distract? Nothin' if you hide your vampirism." A low chuckle spilled from his worm-like lips. "Oh, that's right. Maven told me. Cannot hide anythin' from me." He eyed Serana up-and-down, then the others. "You'll need partners. All of you. Boy," he told Agmaer, "you're with the elf. Vampire, you are with me." He seemed particularly enchanted by that, his lecherous grin wide as he faced Malenia. "You—"
I'll hide your fucking head from your shoulders.
"I am going with the vampire. Say anything and I'm calling this whole fucking thing off."
"Is that—"
"Don't talk back, ugly fucking ogre."
And she still had not the slightest intention to obey. Maven Black-Briar wished for the Moot which confirmed Torygg as High King of Skyrim. Whatever the crone wanted some old parchment for, the redhead did not care to know, nor to give the thing to her. Brelyna had already been saved, so why bother?
Mingle with the guests, hunt for any information on the dragons and the veiled Alduin's Wall, then sequester herself and Serana out of the city. And the other two if she was feeling particularly charitable.
She tapped her foot incessantly, then began to walk, ignoring Maul. "Let's move."
Inside, Solitude was aswirl with activity, despite the late hour. Guests, partygoers, more nobles than Malenia had ever seen even inside the Thalmor Embassy, and Imperials and Bretons and Redguards—
And Thalmor.
The tall golden elves sauntered about with their tell-tale arrogance. Soldiers mostly, Justiciars, if Malenia had to guess. She had known to expect Thalmor here, though it did nothing to settle her gnawing fears. The walk to the Blue Palace was short, yet felt as if it stretched on to eternity. A woman called out, selling her fresh-grown fruits and vegeatbles. Radiant Raiments was close by, and perhaps home to the two girls rescued from the Embassy months ago. Maul led the way forward, slamming his feet into the ground with every step; Malenia moved second, joined by Serana whose arm linked with hers; Agmaer and Brelyna lingered back.
In lieu of her true name, Malenia had opted for something short and simple; Lady Taika, hailing from some nameless settlement far to the south.
Her head craned toward Serana, her voice small. "What name did you pick?"
Serana smiled. "Carmilla. I read it in a book." Colour flowed to her cheeks, turning them a bright shade of crimson. "What Maul said back there… about partners…" She turned her head away, though Malenia could still catch sight of the wide grin stretching the vampire's lovely lips.
"Just didn't want that brute near you," she grumbled.
"Mm, no, of course not." Serana twirled herself, spinning 'till she was snug in the redhead's arms. "Because I have a brute already?"
Malenia kissed her.
She delighted in the kiss she felt instantly returned.
The balm Serana had chosen tasted faintly, sweetly, of blackberries, the dark hue of her lips and braided hair constrasting beautifully with her alabaster skin. Partners. Only for this party, this one event, nothing more, Malenia wanted to think, hammered the thought deep into her head for what little good it did. She tasted the vampire's lips, again and again and again as her fingers wandered; if only they were still in some candle-lit inn instead of damn Solitude.
Then perhaps she would allow her touch to wander, infuriating slow, lower, lower—
"Hurry it up," Maul called out gruffly. "Wouldn't want to be late."
Inside, the Blue Palace felt to her as elegant as it was ominous; all of the guests seemed to stare intently, as if expecting her, as if knowing already of her deception. Maul, lumbering brute as he was, disappeared in some corner immediately, leaving only her and Serana. Agmaer nearly crashed into them as he entered the Palace.
"Oh… sorry, I only… I've never seen such a—"
"Careful, idiot."
Serana gave the blonde hunter a glare, though it was mild. "You've seen my castle."
The dregs of Castle Volkihar were almost comforting, compared to this. Malenia smothered a growl deep in her throat. The nobles, all pompous stares and glares; if asked, she could not even say what the occasion for this party was. Nor did she care to.
So long as they found what she sought, nothing else mattered.
"Care for a dance?"
A soft melody played from the floor above, flutes and violins and one ravishing jester who seemed to turn all the attention towards her.
Malenia turned towards the voice, her hand now curled into a fist. "Dance?"
Serana nodded, her own hands reaching out. "It would help to blend in." Already, most of the other guests had joined in pairs, their partners, and swayed gently to the wavering tune. The look of hurt painted on her pale features was quickly subdued, when Malenia pressed herself against the vampire's chest and pushed her roughly backward. "Or if you don't, that is fine, that—"
"I want to." The words came before she could stop them. The redhead grimaced.
Why had she spoken them?
It was a mistake. It was a mistake. Now she would only make a fool of herself, and all in front of—
Serana's kiss silenced her protests, her warring worrying mind. Malenia allowed her fingers to envelop the other woman's, twinned tightly yet still lightly together, and allowed herself to be moved. If any up-snouted nobleman were to watch, they'd probably scoff; she was certain now that she looked utterly ridiculous.
But the look she was granted more than made up for it.
"Step," Serana murmured in her ear, "step, step, left. Even you can manage that."
"Don't mock me."
"Don't mock me," Serana mocked, mockingly. Her head drooped, then, resting against the redhead hunter's shoulder, and her voice turned soft and sweet. "I'm not mocking," she said, smiling shyly. They swayed gently to the violins. "I just wanted to hold you again."
The metal hand strapped to Malenia's right wrist moved, until it grasped the soft fabric of Serana's back, holding on tight. She felt heat rush to her face. There was little point in talking. Her foot stepped left, right, left, left, over Serana's foot once then once again; how was it that blasted dancing seemed more difficult than being in the midst of battle? Malenia could twirl her sword and fight the very fiery might of dragons, yet here she was reduced to a bumbling fool.
"I haven't danced in so long," whispered the vampire, resounding softly against the other woman's ear as they half-hugged and moved. "I never liked it then. Whenever Father organised an event like this, guests from all over Skyrim poured in, but they all looked so happy. Spinning in each other's arms safe and content. Nobody ever made me feel that."
The redhead's heart clenched. Her hold loosened, briefly, her thoughts aswarmed.
Not even me.
It made sense. Why would she of all people be worthy of comforting Serana?
Perhaps she ought to have remained dead, in the bliss of those dreams. Away from a world which only despised and feared her. Perhaps, perhaps… but she had craved seeing Serana again, making certain that Serana was safe, that, that…
The two pulled away — and in the intimacy created by their closeness, those bright verdant eyes shimmered with red.
"But you do."
Malenia wanted to scoff. "You don't need to lie—"
"Shhhh…" Dark blackberry-scented lips left a light chaste peck on a soft yet scarred rosy cheek. "Do you think it might be bad form to kiss here, right in the middle of everyone else?"
Throwing caution to the wind, Malenia did just that. Her kisses started slowly, hesitant, caresses first on Serana's own cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her beautiful small nose, then finally her lips. If this was wrong, if the fools of Solitude saw fit to stop them… she did not care. Not as long as she was with her.
Serana whispered against Malenia's lips, "We should think about this. How we should proceed. Those documents are tucked away in the Jarl's Quarters, past all the guards."
Malenia's mind was already made up. "I'll go."
"…and alert the entire capital? This isn't Riften, Mal. You cannot be seen."
"That doesn't mean I'm letting you go, idiot. If one of these rotted fucks lay hands on you—"
A hush shut her up. "Need I remind you that only one of us can cast magic? They'll never even see me coming. I'll be in and our in a matter of minutes. Stay here, stay casual, and don't stab anyone. That last part is important." She twirled herself, allowed the weight of her body to drop, confident that Malenia would be awaiting.
"You don't say." By Oblivion, it was so silly that she felt a laugh bubble out of her, despite everything. Afterward she was absurdly grateful. Laughter had granted her some sliver of happiness, if only for a while, and the thought of Serana out there on her own was less frightening.
"Good?"
The nod was forced. "Good. Just go before I change my mind and stab that insane jester."
Serana left with a gentle smile, and it was not long before another dancer joined the redhead. She grimaced at the foreigner's hand grasping her own, though allowed that it could have been worse. The hold was reluctant and shy too, almost like—.
No. Nothing like Serana.
This woman, whomever she was — young though still older than her, with brown hair tucked behind her ears and a ruby-topped crown resting above her thin elegant brows — was just another spoil-rotten princess.
"Who are you?" If her tone sounded clipped, Malenia did not care to correct herself. Noble, not noble, it mattered little to her.
The woman blinked, as if in shock. "Who I—" She swallowed her next words, then nodded in composure. By now, the two moved on instinct alone, the dance if it could be called such purely ceremonial. "I suppose not everyone has grown used to my presence as yet. Until the Moot convenes and approves of my position, I am merely Elisif."
Ocean-blue eyes widened. How in Oblivion—
"You… you are Elisif."
And she moved in the midst of strangers, and danced with one she knew nothing about?
"The Jarl of Solitude, yes, but you need not use my title."
Her hazel eyes drifted downward, examining Malenia's garb, the shoulderless gown, the gloves reaching up to her biceps, and the multitudes of criss-crossing canyons of scars wherever skin showed; Maven's goons had done their damnest to veil the marks of battle, yet there were simply too many.
Had the modest Jarl noticed the peculiar bulge pooling around Malenia's right wrist? Had she spotted the hand for a rusting fraud?
"Not used to parties, are you?"
Malenia fought off a scoff. "No." Obviously fucking not. Without Serana, without the vampire here to offer stability… "Not much used to Solitude, either."
"War has changed the city." Elisif's tone took on a certain somber nature. "And my husband's death besides. Now my court looks to Tullius for advice instead of me, and all the Jarls vie and fight and bicker over who might become High King. It's a formality; I will become High Queen. And the crown already weighs heavy." She shook her head, and if she ever took note of the redhead's utterly horrendous foot-stepping, she chose not to comment. "To think, so many have fought and perished to be where I am…"
"Then don't." No point in holding back, now. No point in acting fucking nice. "How any of these idiots here believe this shitty little sob story is beyond me. Poorly Elisif," she cooed, "doomed to a life of having an entire nation looking up to her, and all the lavish niceties she could ever ask for. Get the fuck over yourself."
"Perhaps," the would-be High Queen allowed, entirely composed, "but you see surely, how fickle this all is? Ulfric Stormcloak never earned his crown — he murdered, and said all the things others wished to hear. Perhaps the Empire will triumph, in the end. Or perhaps he will march into Solitude one day and my head will lie on a pike." She shook her head. "Only the Thalmor can be relied upon now."
Thalmor.
Thalmor.
Blood froze glacial-cold in the redhead's veins; the panic rose in brisk bristling waves of horror, as her heart thundered so very loudly that she thought it might burst out from her chest.
Here.
Jarl Elisif, satisfied with whatever her goal had been here, nodded, let go of Malenia's hand sweat-damp beneath the glove, stepped aside as the violins kept on playing, their sound going now entirely unheard—
Malenia's heart stopped.
The golden woman that took Elisif's place had haunted her dreams. For a desperate dejected dreadful moment she thought — hoped — that it was not real. More of Hermaeus Mora's trickery. That those eyes glowing with the very fury of the sun, the very eyes she had hoped to extinguish for years upon years, the long nose, the lips twisted into a smile, the woman who Malenia had fought and raged and sacrificed everything against ever since the moment she had slain her sister in the smoldering embers of her village—
The carefully manicured hand took grim hold of her own.
And twisted.
Elenwen.
"So it is you. All this time… and all for a waste."
The redhead's heart was a thunderous blast beneath her gown. Her throat was tangled; her tongue swallowed; grief and terror and shock had reduced her to nothing.
Elenwen smirked. "Pathetic."
She could have done it. Malenia's thoughts hardened into one unwithering resolve, the cerulean depths of her eyes now frozen with the cruelty of her decision. One strike. One stab. One kill.
Finally, the awful Thalmor woman would be dead; Jeyne avenged; all of the grief and pain and suffering of so many years laid to rest—
Serana.
The Blue Palace offered no escape. Even a small army would have struggled to battle their way out of the capital city, past the pearly gates and the winding streets and out of the very same street that Ulfric Stormcloak had once blundered through mere months ago. After that disaster, the Thalmor and their Imperial lackeys had fortified Solitude to prevent a repeat.
Malenia's metal hand hovered over her hip, poised to grab that which was not there, the sword she longed to behest and thrust into Elenwen's blackened heart; Dawnbreaker, Windshear, some fucking spindly knife, it made no matter, so long as Elenwen was dead.
Serana.
Serana…
Her own life did not matter. Not anymore. Not when revenge was within grasp. The Justiciars lingering nearby would never be able to stop her, were she to do it. Brelyna slain too. Agmaer, maybe, if the coward tried anything.
"I do wonder who that other girl was. You do remember her, yes? Red hair, those very same disgustingly hopeful blue eyes… a cousin, a sister, perhaps? It's been years, but I still feel my dagger gliding across her throat. So smooth."
Icy eyes glared daggers. So close, aching, yearning, desperate to kill and savage ruthlessly, to choke the life out of the Altmer—
And doom Serana too.
Her own life may have ended, but the vampire's mattered. More than the world itself.
More even than vengeance.
Elenwen strutted about, her hold on Malenia now released, and her voice low enough that none of the other dancers, still swaying gently, could discern what was said. "And it was you in the Embassy. I had not known it then, but yes, yes, it was you. How resilient of you." Her steps paused. "I had assumed you dead in that conflagration. Imagine my terror. The Last Dragonborn slain." After so long, why wouldn't she want Malenia killed? "Imagine an ever greater surprise when the Matron of Black-Briar came to me with pertinent information."
Maven, that lowly, backstabbing scum. She would murder her too, gouge out those dark thieving eyes, slash away the wrinkled lips, and hear Maven scream and finally not be so fucking smug.
"That is right, my dear human. You will not die here today. Not by my will." Elenwen glanced pointedly at the tall archway leading out of the Blue Palace. "You've yet a role to play. More than that dirty filth of your village. I can only give thanks to the Divines that I was wrong, that I had not killed you as assumed."
Darkness swirled to grim life inside Malenia's head. Smoke, embers, a rainfall of ash, and Jeyne laying on the broken ground, with a golden elven dagger still plunged into her stilled chest.
All that time… Elenwen had wanted to kill her.
Why?
What was so damned important, that some small forsaken village was the target of Thalmor Justiciars? She had assumed it to be senseless cruelty, not past the whims of the likes of Elenwen, but to think that the tip of that blade was meant for her, that if only she and Jeyne had swapped places, her sister might still be alive…
Her legs shook. Her breath had stopped wholly. She could not move, frozen, made of still stone, broken, shattered—
Elenwen nodded in approval.
"Go along then, O Mighty Dragonborn. I'll be waiting."
Notes:
>:)
Chapter 11: Enough
Notes:
Hello! Apologies for the longer wait on this chapter... things haven't been the best for me lately, and I am honestly still not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but here it is! I really hope you'll enjoy ❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
Left, right, forward, past that shadowed corner.…
She was almost certain the painting of the old Queen of Solitude was repeated through these corridors. How else had she seen it so very many times? The Blue Palace proved a sprawling labyrinth, each and every corridor carved in the exact same way and serving only to confuse her with each step taken.
Something was wrong. Serana could not quite place it, not name whatever had caused an inner sense of dread to fester within her heart, and yet something pervasive nonetheless.
Mere paranoia, surely. Thus far, their journey to Solitude and infiltration into this party had gone on without issue; they looked the part, walked and spoke well enough to fool from a passing glance, and the Divines had even been kind enough to hold the lovely redhead in check, make certain that Malenia would not slaughter the nobility of Solitude so long as they were here.
Pale lips, now a soft muted blue, curved into an unknowing smile of bliss. The vampire allowed her mind to wander as she moved through the darkened corridors. Malenia had been beyond beautiful in that dress and shawl of hers. How lovely the slender yet muscular shape of her shoulders revealed, how soft that rosy mouth had felt against her own…
It was paranoia, came the thought again. If anything at all had gone amiss, the redhead easily would have stunned the entirety of Solitude with her looks alone.
Serana took solace in that fact. Her soft black slippers moved without sound, past this corner, the candles whose flame seemed suspended in the midst of conflagration, as was the entire world, frozen still as stone—
"Hold, mage!"
Shimmers of magicka, crackles, thunder — and a distinctive voice.
The vampire frowned, both unsettled and at ease from the myriad senses surrounding her, the distinctive smell of sulfur. Where had she felt this before?
"Too long has passed without us conversing," said the mysterious stranger again, revealing himself to be a hooded, lavender-eyed Altmer. "Too long have you walked blindly into the jaws of Oblivion."
Thalmor? At once, Serana forced herself into a hunch as lightning arced between her splayed pallid fingers. "Stay back." She had no wish to kill this man, yet his death was preferable to causing a scene and risk ruining the entire plan. Especially if the elf thought to attack her.
His handwave was dismissive. "That will not be necessary. Do you not remember?" Another wave; memory seeped in; Master Tolfdir and his students, Brelyna Maryon, plunging into a ruin in the dead of night… and a certain ravishing redhead, who complained and swore and stomped and stole her breath away with a mere icy ocean-blue glance even all those months ago. "Yes," said the Altmer, "you do."
Serana eyed him curiously, cautiously. "You."
"Know only that Saarthal is but a small part of your journey, which will be arduous, but also quite… joyous."
Those words were clear as crystalline waters to her now, spoken by this very same elf, a magi of the Psijic Order. He had been cryptic enough back then as well, revealed precisely nothing, and yet he had known. All along he had known.
"You knew I— I would fall for her," the vampire accused. Speaking truth aloud was still foreign to her. She jabbed her finger forward. "And you said nothing."
To think how much time might have been saved, Malenia's departure in hunt of Elenwen, the endless torturous months where she had wished for nothing more than to allow her touch to fall upon the redhead, to soothe her scars and to show her just how much she wanted to be with her.
And to know that Malenia wanted that, too.
"Would you have believed me?" The Altmer laughed, though a certain melancholy tinged him. "No, the hands of Fate cannot be twisted; what has, had, and will happen is out of the hands of every one of us. You have recovered the Eye of Magnus. Ended the tyranny of your father. Do you recall, then, what I said to you in Saarthal?"
As if she could be bothered to remember every tiny little detail. She gave a shake of her head, now crossing her arms as the magicka faded. Whoever the Psijic was, he proved no threat.
"Judgement. For your actions, and for those of your companion."
"Do not talk about her. You don't know what she has been through, you haven't the faintest clue, you are in no fucking position to even think to judge her—"
"—and though justice demands that she die for her crimes, only she can save us."
Red-hot rage swirled through the vampire, the Illusion mystiqueing her eyes into a gentle verdant hue fading and allowing the growing hunger of her true self to shine. The world could never judge Malenia, not after all that she had suffered. And not whilst Serana was there to hold and cherish her.
"She will not die," she stated matter-of-fact. The ghost of a shadow haunted through her, wracking her in a painful twist until she was left trembling. "Not again." Grimacing, the thought was wrestled from her head. Malenia had been brought back from the very grasp of death — alongside whatever dark forces had aided that — and Serana would keep her so. The Psijics would do well to keep in mind that Malenia was Dragonborn, that she would save them and their ungrateful hides.
The Psijic Mage nodded. "Certainly not."
"Then shut—"
"'Tis a shame that her growing monstrosity shall go unanswered. For the time being, at the least." At the sight of Serana's growing glare, he lifted a hand. "Prepare yourself, mage. Hold your companion close for what time you have left with her, yet be wary of her too, be afraid, and be prepared to do the unthinkable."
A flash of sulfur, and he was gone.
The vampire moved on, her hands curled into fists. Whatever Malenia had done, whatever sins committed in the distant past, were done with now. She had changed.
And so have I.
Every beat of her deathly heart echoed through the corridors. Ahead, she could see an archway, encrusted with emeralds and topaz and a single glinting ruby, atop the iconic Royal Wolf of Solitude. A click of the handle, and she was inside, stepping cautously, red-rimmed eyes peering over her surroundings. A large bed, overspilling with fluffy white blankets that may have felt wonderful were she to lie there with her mortal in her arms, and cabinets and bookshelves, and a small study on the other side. If she were to guess, Serana thought these to be High Queen Elisif's chambers.
"Olaf and the Dragon," she read aloud, her voice a half-whisper, "On Apocrypha, Remanada, the Wolf Queen…"
Esbern's writings had mentioned prophecy, and Alduin's Wall. A location, presumably, and the key to defeating the World-Eater, she hoped.
And the Moot for that awful woman Maven Black-Briar, too.
More documents, books, tomes, scrolls, one emblazoned with a golden bird instructing how one may cast Healing Hands—
Serana spotted the Thalmor document atop the highest shelf.
23rd of Morning Star, 4E 202.
Her heart dropped. The 23rd, she realised with growing dread. Nearly a fortnight past.
Rulindil Losiir, in the name of the Aldmeri Dominion, I instruct you and your Justiciars to be present in Solitude by moon's end. High Queen Elisif is to present you with this document. Find enclosed the findings of Sky Haven Temple, within The Reach. The ruling council believes vital information of Alduin the World-Eater to be located there.
Another page. Another.
Serana peered through the writings, the detailed drawings of an ancient Blades fortress hidden in the hills, and the possibility that this ruin may well hold Alduin's Wall. Another page, an—
Utmost importance: Whilst in Solitude, you are to ensure that the target enters the Blue Palace, and inform me directly when she does so. As per Black-Briar's descriptions, the target is tall; slender; red-haired; assumed to be between the ages of twenty and twenty-five.
"Malenia…"
It couldn't be her. It couldn't…
Who could have written this?
The target may be joined by others. As per Black-Briar's descriptions, she may be joined by a Nord male and Dunmeri female, of irrelevant description. Be aware of a Nord female of similar age and build to the target, yet dark-haired. If deemed necessary, I hereby grant you permission to dispatch of her.
Serana dumped the crumpled document into her pack. She stood. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She could feel the sharp gasps that escaped her chest with each trembling breath.
"Malenia…"
Back through the corridors she went, retracing her steps, past the Psijic Mage where the smell of sulfur yet lingered, and just as she opened the tall doors leading back to the party—
"Serana?"
Agmaer.
"Where did you go? We thought you left," the blonde hunter admitted, his gaze downcast, "I thought you would've stayed, especially with… with—"
An ashen hand slapped his shoulder. Brelyna Maryon glared in glowing crimson at him. "Tell her already!"
"But she might—"
"Ag!"
Flushing, he faced her eye-to-eye. "Malenia is outside. I'm, I… she… something's happened."
Something? Something? Agmaer could be obtuse even on the best of times, and now, whatever had gone on… the time for talk was past. Grasping the Amulet of Mara still clasped around her neck, Serana moved through the halls leading out of the Blue Palace. Alive. So long as the mortal was alive, she would be too. She could help her, and protect her, and keep her safe and happy and—
"Me. Me. Me."
The faint mutterings reached her ears before she saw her.
In the carefully manicured bushes of the gardens, Malenia stood hunched low, ocean-blue eyes staring endlessly into the chill void. The crimson braid so carefully arranged had come undone, her bright-red curls a wild whirl, and the false hand was missing and the glove lay in tatters, as if savaged asunder.
"Mal?" The vampire rushed to the other woman, cold hands reaching out. "Mal, talk to me."
What happened? What could possibly have reduced the redhead to such a mess?
"Me. Me. Me…"
Serana turned. "Head back to Riften. Find Delphine," she told Agmaer, who stood unable to meet her gaze. Anxious shivers coursed through her, the thought of the group splitting, of them left defenceless against… against… "Tell her to find Sky Haven Temple in the Reach. And come back quickly." She faced Brelyna. "Stay with us."
Stay with her.
Pale hands, marred by burns and lesions, took hold of Malenia's shoulders, and dragged her gently along the streets of the capital of Skyrim. Brelyna cradled the small of Malenia's back, guiding her along in rapid pace. At this late hour, few others could be seen, save for the odd beggar and a crazed old man rambling about his master, and one or two crimson-garbed guard meandering along the paths. What place might be their refuge? The tavern was out of the question; too open, too populated, and nowhere near enough safety for Malenia.
"Me. It was me…"
"Shhh." Serana pressed the cold touch of her lips to the mortal's cheek, hoping to offer what little comfort she could. "We're almost there."
Almost where?
Not the inn, and nowhere else at all, trapped in the very heart of the Thalmor's den, so very far away from other settlements. Her undead heart thrummed wildly, beating against the walls of her ribcage as she forced deep tepid trembling gasps of breath—
In. Out. In. Out. She could not allow herself to falter here.
Not until Malenia was safe.
Past the shuttered alchemist's store, the blacksmith, the market stalls, the tall keep housing the Imperial Legion where the vampire felt a crushing presence staring down upon her—
A young Aldmeri girl appeared in the street. Her flaxen hair was tied into a messy bun, her verdant eyes wide yet tired, her small little hands raised to show that she meant no harm. A second timid presence lingered not far behind.
"Me. Me."
"You came back!" exclaimed the girl. A frown etched her brow as she kept staring at Malenia, her distant expression. "I didn't think you would after the Embassy but you did and now and you're—"
"You were at the Embassy?" Thalmor? Fangs chewed belatedly onto a pale lip; skin cracked, and a thin line of ebon-black blood flowed. Too young. Serana threw caution to the wind. "How do you know her?"
"She saved us, me and my sister, and the old man in the dungeons, once the Embassy caught fire, she led us out and stayed with us 'till we could be here." The young girl brought palm to chest. "We owe her our lives."
Brelyna Maryon stepped forward, crimson eyes bright in the nightly air. "Will you give us shelter for the night?"
"Oh yes, of course! We only—"
Serana hissed.
Not here, she wanted to say, not now, not… not…
Yet it was the only way. She could see nothing else, save for bringing Malenia to the stables and riding out to Dragon Bridge or even Castle Volkihar, though what was ailing the redhead might well not wait that long.
"Fine," she said at last. "But make it quick."
The trio followed the duo through an old stony archway that cast a shadow across each who passed, past an alleyway silent save for Malenia's mutterings — and a modest dwelling, with a wooden overhang and coloured windows, and the sign of two tailors' tools, golden atop glimmering blue. Just below, the words Radiant Raiment could be discerned.
"Lady Taarie?" The young elf's voice echoed. "Lady Taarie!" At her call, another Altmer emerged, her face bleary and ruffled from sleep, tangerine-hued eyes widening at the sight of strangers. "Did we wake you? I did not presume—"
"Valla, what did I tell you? We cannot keep bringing the beggars into the store. It's not good for business, dear."
Another tall elf came from the adjacent room. "Sister dear, do at least try to keep it down." Her topaz gaze shifted. "Who are these?"
"Oh, dear sister, our little apprentices are utterly insistent on helping every downtrodden fool in Solitude!"
"Me. Me. Me."
Serana held her mortal tighter as she stepped forward, the vampiric intensity of her red-rimmed sight ablaze as she glared at the two sisters. "We are not beggars." But we might be fools. Could trusting the hospitality of these two be a mistake? "We need help… and you will help us."
Tonight had gone awry, put bluntly, and the vampire's patience, her kindness, was at an end.
Valla said, "This is the one we told you about!" She pointed at Malenia with her tiny gold finger. "The one who saved us! Won't you let them stay the night? Oh please, Lady Taarie? I'll do all the chores in the morning! And Sarra can run the counter. Please?"
A bedgrudging look said enough. Wincing, Serana moved into a spare room — it was a mess, overflowed with remnants of cloths and dyes and stripes — and possessed a distinct flowery aroma. The lone bed was cramped, yet enough to hold one person. She gently lowered Malenia, shushing her mumblings, hoping beyond hope that Lady Taarie had not taken it upon herself to alert a guard.
Tears blurred her vision; a dim fog settled over her world.
She held onto Malenia's hand, warm and lively, yet stiff as death, and squeezed.
"Talk to me," she implored softly. In this silence, what could she do? How could she comfort the light of her life?
"It's me, it's ME, ME!"
The screams echoed throughout the room. Serana held the other woman tighter, that lovely yet aggrieved rosy face buried in her chest, the long red curls cascading across them; blinking when she felt a phantom tingle of a touch, she realised it could only have been the frenetic thrum of Malenia's pulse.
Not even death had unnerved the mortal so.
What had happened inside that now-accursed palace? By the Blood, what had Malenia seen?
"Mmh. It's… it's, ME, m—" The redhead arced her back and shrieked. The fingers of her hand curled, uncurled, seemingly uncertain as to whether to claw or slap or punch, and her feet kicked out at random, striking the bedsheets, the bedframe, Serana…
"Shhhh…" Serana felt her own sobs heaving through her. "Please stop, please."
The two pulled away only long enough to stare at one another, red-rimmed meeting tear-struck ocean-blue — and the tepid blackness swirling within. Small feverish green spots could be seen too, engulfing the mortal's once-gentle eyes fully.
That scarred hand went for her before she could react, and squeezed.
Serana gasped, the air snuffed out of her as her pale throat struggled in the snare. Again, again, the vile ghosts haunting Mal's soul had taken hold of her again, and neither had grown used to it, nor did Serana's heart ache any less than it did that first time months ago. First waking to this choking sensation inside the giant's grotto in the Forgotten Vale, and since then these moments had only grown more unhinged.
The thought of striking back came and went. But she couldn't; she could never harm her mortal.
Sounds muffled; her breath stuttered; her eyes stung with tears, clawing and tearing, and the sound of that terrible laughter—
Serana pulled her hand back then shoved it forward with a gathering viridescent mist, firing off a spell of paralysis. The ghastly green glow enveloped the mortal; she dropped back to the bed, spasming weakly, her movements only growing more rigid with every attempt to shatter the spell.
She chomped her mouth; teeth crashed together wildly.
Like an animal. The vampire sobbed. Trembling hands cradled her face. These moments always came when Malenia was at her weakest. As if some wretched power high above was toying with her and them both.
"ME! ME!" Then, the screams and rage subsided. The redhead stared, in put-upon bliss, then—
"Mal—"
"Gol Hah Do—"
Serana closed her fist; the paralysis put the mortal to sleep.
Hours passed in silence. Malenia did not wake. Outside, the early hours of dawn creeped by, the sun's blinding rays scarcely faded by the curtains of the home, the sounds of the townsfolk waking and beginning their days, unaware of the turmoil raging within the woman firmly in the vampire's arms. She had adjusted Malenia at some point, allowing her to sink into the aged bedding and pillows, and laid her own head atop the redhead's chest. Though faint, the beating was there, constant.
She sighed, as her lips, having regained their deathly-pale hue, pulled down into a frown.
Another hour. Heavy bags formed below her eyes. Lady Taarie had entered with a knock, informing her that the store was now open and they would have to depart by sundown, though Sarra and Valla insisted that they be allowed another day, at least.
Another day might well turn into another week, and for what? Nothing mattered so long as Malenia stayed like this, breathing yet unmoving.
Still like a corpse.
By the fourth hour, when the accursed sun was high in the cloudless sky and threatened to scorch any lesser vampire and the ire of her very own slain father, Serana startled to yet another knock. Before she could discern who it was, Brelyna walked in, holding a thin plate of meat.
"I thought she'd wake by now," the Dunmer confessed, settling the tray aside. "She never…?"
Serana shook her head. Dead. Almost. "Taarie is letting us stay?"
"For now. A day or two more, maybe. But if she doesn't get better by then—"
"Don't."
She could not assume the worst, not now, not her Mal…
She watched the chest unburdened by the stifling corset rise, fall, rise, fall, the breathing calm — paralysis had long since faded, yet Malenia seemed in a trance. Dread overflowed; had she made a mistake? Had… had she hurt her, somehow?
Brelyna shifted uneasily in her seat, a stack of tailoring materials piled into three small boxes. "When I was with her, in the Ratway I mean, and this happened—" She cleared her throat, catching herself. "When she killed that old man, she looked similar to this. When Ag and I saw her standing there in the ballroom, she had those same crazed eyes, but she never attacked us. Do you… have you ever seen her do that before?"
More than once. The mortal had attempted to kill her many times, Serana noted, first within that massacred fort on the beaches outside her island home. Malenia had meant it then; there were no possessions of any sort to speak of, it was all entirely her own doing, and had ended with paralysis then, too.
How far they had come since then, how many days spent together, her own hands caressing the endless canyons of scars, cradling that beautiful face and tasting Mal's sweet rosy red lips, soft, so very soft…
"It's never lasted this long."
That only unsettled the Dunmer further. "Then what if she doesn't wake? At the College I'd read of an old apprentice, one of his spells had gone awry, and he too was locked in some unescapable coma, and nothing—"
"Brelyna."
Her teeth appeared from beyond her ashen-grey lips, a feeble attempt to smile. "Sorry. I still ramble."
The vampire managed a smirk of her own. "She'd be furious if she could hear." Absently, she sought to touch Malenia's exposed shoulder, tense with muscle yet still lithe and delicate and soft. Fingertips brushed tentatively against the redhead's bicep, her wrist — and the stump where her right hand had once laid.
All because of her.
If they hadn't gone to that awful cavern, if only Serana had been more careful—
"How did you ever convince her to let you do this? I remember Saarthal, and you two didn't look particularly thrilled together."
"Saarthal was a long time ago." Trying to distract me. In reminiscence, the vampire thought of the many months since then. "And I did hate her, at first. This awful woman who snarled at everything."
Then she had seen Malenia's true self, hidden beneath the ice, the terrible layers of hatred and red-filled rage where a sparkle still remained, the woman who had never judged her for vampirism, the woman who had helped and sobbed and laughed alongside her, the sole woman in all Tamriel who could care for a misbegotten Daughter of Coldharbour.
Maybe not love… Serana was not entirely convinced of that, but…
Brelyna pouted. "Mmm. Skyrim just has to be crawling with angry murderers. I need to find my own."
"Mmm." Gently, Serana kissed the sleeping woman's forehead, then her left cheek, then the right. "You do. This one is mine."
Malenia did not have to love her back, not a wretch like her. She could live with that. So long as Malenia survived, she would love her enough, had devoted herself wholly to this mortal, her mortal.
The minutes slipped away in silence. Brelyna left at some point, and though Serana had enjoyed the company, perhaps had even required it lest she spiral into doom and darkness and despair, the Dunmer was not the woman she so dearly adored. Another hour. Then another, then a third, and fourth. In her thoughts she was falling, falling, collapsing, her palms and knees striking the harsh spike-strewn ground hard. Had it been a whole day since the party? Serana could not say. After so long deprived of sleep, she could not be certain whether these were mere dreams — nightmares.
Melting into dark corridors; battling throughout Castle Volkihar; snuffing out the life from her very own father, and had once considered doing the same to her mother, too, followed swiftly by—
Stay, she told herself, stay awake. Only until Malenia was safe, only until…
By the sixth hour, something soft stirred across her stomach. Instinctively, an arm wrapped itself snug around her waist.
"Mm… Ss… Serana?"
"Hey…" The vampire's hands flew to grasp the small of the other woman's back, pulling her gently up, so that their breaths mingled, so very close that she could very nearly taste and feel and endlessly crave the beyond-soft lips caressing hers—
Malenia suddenly rose.
She sprung to her feet, the bedding toppling to the floor, the mortal's bare feet making a soft brushing sound as she huddled herself in the corner, trembling, sobbing. "Don't." The word came out as a gasp, rosy mouth locked into a permanent frown. She cradled her knees, huddled into a tight ball, ocean-blue eyes spining wildly across the loom; the sad little broken mannequin where Lady Taarie kept some old garments; the worrying vampire.
Terror scourged through her, yet she did not relent. Gently, she moved to cradle the other woman in her arms.
"S-Serana—"
"Shhh. Don't talk."
"Hold your companion close for what time you have left with her, yet be wary of her too, be afraid, and be prepared to do the unthinkable." Was this what the Psijic Mage had referred to? Protecting Malenia, holding her close… before she lost control of herself entirely?
The unthinkable. Wincing, Serana tried to tune away the bitter sounds of the redhead's sobs and cries, lest it shatter her entirely. The unthinkable. She knew well what that meant.
And she would sooner die than bring any harm to her beloved.
"It's me, it's me."
"Hey." She couldn't allow her to fade again. She had to keep her conscious. "Look at me." Ocean-blue met exhausted red-rimmed. "Let's get back into bed."
So slowly that it seemed a dream, a nightmare, Malenia shifted. Her hand left to grasp blindly about her alabaster gown, down to her thigh, the strap holding a thin glinting dagger — and unsheathed it. Her gaze drooped to her stomach, then the dagger, then—
There was no time for spells.
Before she could even think, the vampire moved swiftly; then screamed as cold steel met her pallid palm and tore through skin and flesh and bone.
A terrible hiss escaped her throat as the blade retracted and black blood trickled; Malenia's gasp was soft, yet shocked, horrified, guilt-ridden. "You idiot," she grumbled, now holding Serana, fingers gently holding the stabbed-stained hand. "Fucking Oblivion, Serana, why would you—"
"Go on," said Serana, the pain nowhere near so bad as the grief she felt, "keep stabbing. Keep fucking stabbing until we're both dead if that's what you want."
If you die, I'll die with you. The sun peering through the blinds only worsened her mood. Serana growled. Blood would easily bind her twisted flesh and leave not even a scar behind. The hand would be fine — yet she had no intention of healing herself. Not until she knew that Mal was safe, that the demons haunting her were held at bay, that these harmful thoughts dissipated.
Rosy fingers raked through her ebony curls. Serana took what little solace she could in the gentle feeling caress. Malenia shushed her, her neck bare in offering. "Drink. Drink please."
Serana vehemently shook her head. "Not until I know you won't do that again."
"You don't know what happened in there, inside the palace, I… if I was dead then…"
"…then talk to me." Please. "Tell me."
The blood that stained them both was binding, a black veil enveloping their once-elegant garb, as they lay collapsed on the dust-ridden floor. Was this the end? Were they fated to die here, in each other's arms?
"I saw her." Malenia trembled with each word she spoke, forced out. "After you left there was that smug pitiful Jarl who acted like her noble's problems were the worst in the world, and then I… there…"
Her.
Her.
At once, Serana knew who.
She held Malenia tighter, the wound in her hand throbbing. "How could Elenwen be here?" Instinctively, red-rimmed eyes peered about, as if worried that the Thalmor might find them even in the midst of this home. The redhead's sobs, a venomous mixture of hatred and rage; and fear, confirmed the worst of it. "She spoke to you."
"Taunted me." Just what was going on behind the veil of those mournful eyes? "She mentioned Jeyne and the Embassy and— and was glad that I'm alive. She thought it was me in that village. She spared me." Bitterly, another thought resurfaced, as rosy lips bared in defiance — then defeat. "She shouldn't have."
The vampire's glare hardened. "Never say that again."
She could not bear to see her like this. Not the woman she loved and adored and desired beyond anything.
Not her queen.
"Right," said Malenia, scoffing softly, "I should be all-fucking cheery to see her. Oh, my sister who never so much as hurt a fly is dead and rotted in the ground, but it's a good thing that I am fit to live? For fucking what? If it was me i-instead of…" Her head sank, her sight averted. "And I only came back to hurt you. Look what I've just done, look what… if it had been me in the fires then you'd be fine, you and your hand and—"
"I would be dead."
Tears slipped off the vampire's long dark lashes, her expression crestfallen. How could Malenia not see it?
How could she not see that she was the sole reason Serana lived?
"Do you not remember Dimhollow?"
That terrible crypt, that tomb, locked away for all eternity by her own mother, hunted by her father's lackeys…
"If you hadn't come, if you hadn't been there… Father would've found me. Or else I'd be trapped still." Even the thought of being drowned in darkness, stuffed inside the monolith, caused a wave of anxiety to ripple through her. In. Out. "What do you think would've happened if Father darkened the sun? Hmm?" she asked, whispering, her still-bleeding hand carefully threading through the redhead's soft curls. "Skyrim would have suffered. Maybe even all of Tamriel. You stopped that; you freed me."
You made life worth living.
Crying, Malenia muttered, "And what if my sister was still alive? She was kind, and gentle and smart and she deserved life." A snarl tore through her. "I don't. Not after what I've done. One or two good things doesn't make up for the rest." She raised herself, her face finally meeting the other woman's, "Before I came back, I was living in a dream. My sister and I, all alone on some quaint little farm."
Serana's lips brushed against Malenia's forehead as she spoke. "Why didn't you stay?" Glad as she was for her mortal to return.
The bristling sobbing woman shook her head. "I couldn't leave you like that."
"Then don't leave me now…"
"It's too fucking late now!" Realising her outburst, she calmed; her breath slowed; the pain in her cerulean depths dimmed, if only just. "I came back," she murmured, "I made sure that you were safe, that your father was dead. And your mother isn't trapped anymore. You'll be fine, you—"
Malenia cut herself off, yet her words were clear as crystalline water.
You'll live without me.
The vampire nearly wanted to laugh. Had she gone mad? Had she completely lost herself? The magnanimous Lord Harkon who had paraded about and told tall tales of darkening the sun, of punishing the mortals of the world whilst vampires walked unhooded. And Mother, who only cared about her goals, her plans; and had entombed her very own daughter in return.
Until Mal had invaded and irrevocably changed everything.
You'll live without me.
Pale features contorted in agony and torture and terror at the thought.
I don't think I can.
Serana exhaled, her head tilted so that their eyes met, and their breaths, hot and ice-deathly cold, mingled together in a thin veil of mist.
"You are kind too." She leaned forward, kissing the mortal's left cheek. "And gentle." She kissed the right. She could not put into words the subtle yet persistent thrill that ran through her at the sight of Malenia quivering, her face dusted in a blush, and the tender toiling through her own stomach when they were close together like this. "And not smart… because you're an idiot." Because you still don't see. "But you are enough."
More than enough.
She grabbed the other woman's shoulder and gently pulled her forward, until their lips met in a soft embrace. Serana's curved to an awkward grin, and a small sound escaped her at the sweet sensation, her tongue slipping slowly along the edges of Malenia's teeth.
"Blood," she whispered, returning the kiss with equal affection, "You need blood."
"I need you." Slowly, a cold hand grasped a warm neck — then with a hiss, the tips of the vampire's fangs sank into the exposed rosy skin. "More than anything." Her voice was a caress against the mortal, fangs still embedded, a thin trickle of red pouring down, the draconic blood nourishing, and Serana could feel the torn flesh of her hand knitting together, until nothing save for the faintest blemish remained. "Mmm…"
Malenia held Serana's arm and pressed herself closer, offering herself entirely. The room was filled with her sighs, mingled in with her moans.
The vampire grinned as she pulled away, then peppered the resulting bleeding marks with tiny kisses until the woman in her arms was left visibly tired, yet satisfied.
She thought of telling her of Alduin's Wall, of the documents found inside the Blue Palace, but that could wait a little longer. "Bed?" she asked quietly instead, nudging.
Nodding, the redhead stood, scarred fingers wound tightly about the vampire's, and together they moved the short distance to the bed. Serana sat first, laying on her side with arms open, and Malenia settled herself in her embrace, her head on the pillow for a brief moment before she realised just how hard and stuffy it felt, then shifting so that her face was comfortably snug on Serana's chest.
She let out a contented sigh, ocean-blue eyes half-lidded.
Pale lips never left her; Serana's kisses were without end. Her bare toes lightly grazed up and down Malenia's thigh, until she felt a long bare slender leg wrap itself around her stomach, pinning her in place, though she didn't mind. Not when they were so firmly and closely together.
The sensation of Malenia's skin against hers was better than good, soft and calming and reassuring, melting away her fears, the horror of this past day and all that it had wrought.
"Better sleep this time, mm?"
"You're the one who needs—" Malenia cut herself off with a terse scoff. Her arms held the vampire's waist. Rosy lips trailed along the vampire's chest. "Better."
Morning would come, and the trek to Sky Haven Temple. With hope, Alduin's Wall might be found within, and the key to defeating the World-Eater.
Then they would finally be free.
When she felt touching and twirling along her long ebony locks, untying the braids slowly, Serana allowed the feeling to cradle her to deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 12: Alduin's Wall
Notes:
I would really prefer to write these things faster but it doesn't seem like it's working, so... hopefully you enjoy despite the wait! Thank you so much for reading as always ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Chapter Text
The first thing Malenia felt was the warmth.
She woke feeling no better rested than any other night. The faint throb in her head, regret and guilt and fear, prodded at the back of her skull in reproach; she should not have agreed to this. It was an impulse too easily given to. Being close to Serana, allowing herself to be held, to be cherished…
Stupid. Stupid.
Her dream was still a vivid picture in her mind — a flame, tall and vast. Black smoke rising into the horizon. Threads of poison filtered into the air; a boulder of grief set within her chest that promised only greater loss and agony. It was a faceless crowd before her, an indistinct amalgam of features and figures.
Such misplaced zeal.
…Not like you, my devoted champion.
"Leave," she had cried out to the devouring shadow, "leave, LEAVE!" As darkness unbroken by light flooded through her very soul. Malenia had assumed her own life forfeit then, forever-lost to the Daedra, and had begged only for Serana's safety. "Leave her."
Please.
All eyes are opened… yours were not the first.
This is the culmination of all my plans. This is the world I have built. Past. Present. Future.
We are bound together. Forever.
Malenia let out a breath in one long exhale, then allowed her eyes to flutter open.
Her bare legs were tangled in harsh aged brown blankets and utterly unbearable soft pale skin, and her left arm wound protectively about the waist of the woman whose breaths came cool and steady, calm, tickling the redhead's nose with each exhale.
How she longed to see those crimson eyes again when they were this close, to know exactly what the vampire's dreams were and to make certain that they were not the haunting visions she experienced each dusk… yet she did not. Stupid. She couldn't bring herself to retract her arms, even her right, lacking a hand, had still somehow found its way to Serana's back. Stupid. She could think only that word. Only of herself.
It was a mistake, a twisted fucking obscene fraud, to allow any of this. Getting close to Serana, allowing the vampire to see how lovely they might be together like this… it was far more than Malenia had ever deserved, and were it not for Hermaeus Mora, she may well have made her peace with it.
She did not deserve Serana. But Serana had chosen her all the same. Why would always escape her, her of all the bitter misbegotten fucks of the world, sharing a bed with the most perfect woman in all creation.
She loved Serana too much to deny her this. But how could she ever tell her what would happen soon, once the World-Eater was done and dealt with, once the Daedric Lord had no further use of this charade?
Nothing can be gained from resisting my truths.
In the maniqured gardens of the Blue Palace, she had heard it. Him. Yet the voice did not come as it once had, taunting and drawling, but also distant. Now it seemed inescapable, a hemorrhaging fixation that she could not shake until it took grim hold and bent and devoured her senses entirely.
Rosy fingers reached out hesitantly, brushing away the stray strands of black hair nestled in a smooth sea of pallid skin, thin brows, and lips slightly parted.
Impulsively, Malenia leaned in for a kiss.
A few moments, and then she felt a faint sleepy movement, as fingers reached to tangle and caress through the scarlet bedragged curls. Malenia could scarcely prevent the breathless hm. that flew out of her, her body melting into the vampire on instinct alone.
When the two pulled away, the twins of red were squinted, and those lips tugged in a smile.
All thoughts of Hermaeus Mora drowned away as Serana kissed her again, then asked, "Sleep well?"
You have always been mine.
Leave. "Fine." Unsatisfied by her own reply, Malenia sighed in defeat, her nose prodding Serana's hand away from her scalp 'till she could see the palm, where the dagger had pierced mere hours ago, and where her own draconic-hot-red blood had mended. Save for a potmarked scar, nothing remained.
"It doesn't hurt," cooed the vampire softly, her fingers tapping the other woman's nose, then cradling her cheek, thumb ghosting ever so softly over the faint freckles and the long pinkish line that ran from eye to jaw, earned at some point over the long months of travel together.
"Serana…"
"It doesn't hurt. It wasn't you."
You will slumber forevermore.
How much easier might it have been, wondered the redhead, were they to be in denial still? Playing their silly little games, dancing around just how obsessed she had become with Serana, knowing she would sacrifice the world entire for her yet also keeping her just barely at arm's length. Leaving, dying, might have been easier, then. And you would never burden her with this. The thought was grim in its truth. If she had never bothered Serana with any of this accursed feeling, this would never have gone so very terribly wrong.
"Stay a while?"
Malenia paused, the dark of her mind dimmed, and her response was tinged with a certain cautious hopefulness.
"A while," she murmured, trailing open-mouthed kisses along Serana's forehead, her right cheek. They held each other, their hearts as one. "Where did you bring me?" With all that had gone on, Malenia had not taken the time to investigate her surroundings.
"Some tailor's shop. The two young girls… knew you?" The vampire hesitated. "…from the Embassy."
Two lives saved. Two sisters, in lieu of her own.
She thought of the dagger meant for her chest, blocked only by Serana's hand, the torrents of black blood, the pain, the vampire's terrible pained scream…
Slender fingers slowly moved, cradling Serana's arm, her shoulder, 'till the sleepy woman allowed herself to be carried. Ebony curls flowed like a wave of darkness over Malenia as Serana buried her cheek in her chest, red-rimmed eyes fluttering in contentment. There was a soft hum. Beautiful, thought the redhead, smiling down at her.
"Fucking Solitude." Damned Imperials and their snobby Jarl. And her. Malenia could not suppress the sigh that spilled from her lips. "And I thought this time of all times would go better."
"No you didn't, you worried more than me."
"Right—"
"And I do believe it was you swearing up and down that whole carriage ride."
"Oh, you littl—"
"And," Serana added in a murmur and a half-yawn, "it went well enough. Besides the… you know. But we found what we're looking for. We found…" A full yawn, then, and she melted further into Malenia's chest, the room nearly fully engulfed in pitch black as the crimson of her eyes shuttered closed, her breaths grew rare.
Beautiful, thought the redhead again, a smirk twitching her rosy lips. She glanced down further at the woman snug in her arms. Heat bloomed in her cheeks at their intimate closeness, still unused to this… to fucking any of this even after all the weeks together. She thought of Serana's hair, those thin silk-soft strands once carefully braided while inside that accursed monolith, short and carefully trimmed, now reaching well to the vampire's back. Absently, she moved to undo what little remained of the arranged façade from the day's party.
She prefered Serana this way. Her heart curled at the thought. Serana seemed more free, more like herself.
Minutes passed in silence, then an hour. Malenia's hand found a rythmic pattern, tracing touches along Serana's arm, down and under her blouse, then up and along her bare back. Every so often, Serana squirmed and twitched at the sensation, yet she remained aslumber.
What had been found inside the Blue Palace? Alduin's Wall, presumably. A way to put a long-deserved end to this prophecy and the World-Eater and put all of this shit to rest. The Jarls of Skyrim would praise Malenia as the hero, the glorious Dragonborn of legend, alongside those stuffy old monks atop their mountain, and Delphine, and the Dawnguard, and most probably Agmaer would join in and scream and laugh and cheer and make himself utterly insufferable—
And her.
What would befall her?
When Alduin would be slain, when the purpose of her life would be fulfilled and when Hermaeus Mora would have no further need of her…
Rejoice. The end comes soon.
Malenia growled at the voice which ceaselessly tore and snapped at the dark recesses of her mind. The end. Ocean-blue eyes shot to the corner of the room, where her supplies laid. Dawnbreaker stood silent watch inside its sheath.
The end. I'll end you.
The pain of flesh is fleeting…
Agony scourged through her chest, her heart, a phantom ache through her right wrist, as though her missing hand was returned only to burn and scorch and—
…true torment, lasts forever.
Then, her beloved stirred.
Their eyes met; and Malenia managed a wry smile.
Serana made a soft sound as she propped her head against her palm, the light in her eyes carefully drawn to examine the woman below her. "Were you staring at me?"
Yes. "No."
Serana smirked. "Awful."
"Insufferable," murmured Malenia, thin as a wisp; she could not suppress her laugh, not even as it grew louder at the feel of pale lips upon hers. She kissed Serana back slowly, sweetly, and the Daedra haunting her head seemed further away than ever. "You're the one who fell asleep mid-fucking-sentence."
"Mmm. Can you blame me?" Another kiss, then another. She buried her face in the redhead's chest once more. "You're so soft."
Though bliss was always shattered, sooner or late. Brelyna entered the room at some point, leaving behind a platter of fruits and meats from the local shops, followed shortly thereafter by Agmaer, who returned from some long journey, who did not leave despite Malenia's threats to him and whatever clueless farmers had spawned him. The blonde vampire hunter only departed after informing them that Lady Taarie and her sister wanted them gone within the hour.
Malenia nibbled on the fruits quietly while she felt herself stared at; Serana hungered for something else entirely.
With it emptied, she reluctantly tore herself from the bedding, and from Serana's embrace.
They'd both kept their noble's gowns from that damnable party, though time and sleep had roughened the garments so that now they were little more than what a commoner might wear; Malenia absently removed the dress up over her head, dumped it into a pile, then turned.
Serana stared with wide red eyes. "You—"
"Shh. Come here."
The vampire did as bid. Malenia stood before her, scarred slender fingers wandering, peering across the blouse then undoing each and every button, until the once-elegant thing fell away and revealed fully Serana's form, smoother than silk, paler than the moons.
"Mal… oh…"
She could feel the heat inside her, the fluttering deep in her chest as she touched the small of Serana's breasts, her head leaning in to press against Serana's neck, her collarbone, her gentle shoulder. "Good?" The question was asked almost on instinct alone; Malenia cared the utmost for her beloved's consent, yet when it was freely given like this…
Her own body treacherously betrayed her, squirming as she felt the vampire upon her, pushing her gently to the nearest wall where she was held in place, kissed recklessly, worshipped. Malenia hoped only that she could convey the very same.
"Taarie…" Serana moaned loudly, then covered her mouth as if ashamed. "Taarie… Taarie said we should…"
She took handfuls of the redhead's bleached leather trousers, the blouse gifted from Castle Volkihar, the long burgundy robe and cloak, the few straps and bits of gold that Malenia had allowed as armour, providing what protection they could whilst allowing her to move with agility. Still kissing, Serana slowly dressed her. The legs came first, as she traced a long line with her tongue along Malenia's left leg, her inner thigh, stopping just before the sweltering flame above, then promtly resuming the wet caress along her stomach.
"Mm… fuck." The blackened torturous scars there ached with pain and pleasure and… and something else altogether. Malenia melted against the wall as she succumbed herself to the ministrations, feeling fingers and lips and a sweet tongue slithering all over her.
"Good," said Serana finally, smiling a longing fanged smile. The other woman kissed and kissed until she could feel the fangs for herself. "Very good."
With fabric and plate covering her skin, all that was left was the golden helm, hanging in waiting on a thin rusted clothesline. One wing had become crooked with time, though it seemed still resplendent.
"Leave it off. That thing is squeezing your head. And you're dumb enough as it is."
Malenia tsked. "Dumb, is it?"
"And I want to see you." Serana quickly looked away, her pallid complexion tinged by a sea of pink. "Let's just go."
They emerged from Taarie's shop hand in hand, their other two companions trailing closely behind, and put Solitude behind them.
Days and nights passed without event; they'd passed Dragon Bridge and the shambling home of Dexion Evicus, somehow even more wretched than when they'd first laid eyes on it, and then the darkened grotto where the Moth Priest had been kept and where Malenia had lost her hand and her strength all in a single swift stroke of steel.
A growl stirred her as they moved past it; Serana, behind her in the saddle, wrapped her arms tighter around the redhead's waist.
At evenfall, cold pale hands slithered slowly beneath her blouse, teasing, caressing. Malenia allowed it, steering Wraith ahead.
"Getting bored, hmm?"
"You're shivering," said Serana, her voice partly muffled, her face buriedd in the thick scarlet strands spilling down the other woman's back.
"And having a vampire of all things holding me is just so helpful." Brazen, Malenia yet took comfort; as per the documents found, Sky Haven Temple laid sequestered within the stubby mountains of the Reach, most probably surrounded by bandits if they were lucky, elsewise blood-starved tribes of Forsworn. And the Thalmor. "I'm the one that should hold you."
Delphine was likely awaiting already. Malenia did not care about keeping that old crone staying there longer, and if the Divines were just, perhaps they'd come upon her nailed by arrows and spears.
Karthwasten, some nearly forgotten town on the edges of Skyrim, greeted them at dusk. The vampire was yawning already; Agmaer complained of the soreness of the saddle; Brelyna Maryon cluelessly hoped that the group might journey and stay the night — or the whole week, as the Dunmer insisted — inside Markarth. Bigger city, more to see, she argued, and countless Dwemer artifacts to study.
"Not Markarth," Malenia had informed her belatedly, "never fucking Markarth."
Not where Serana had once suffered.
Whilst their other two misfit companions haggled over prices with the portly innkeep, the redhead marched ahead, grunting; scowling; fearing.
Such a heavy burden you carry. Soon you will be freed of it.
The door trembled on its hinges. Malenia snorted derisively, fumbling with her armour, her long burgundy cloak. She could not show anything amiss, not to her, not falter, not, not, not…
Your crimes will be terrible… numberless… glorious…
"Come here..."
Malenia turned.
Sprawled over the bed laid Serana, her bare body near to glistening in the dim candles. Malenia had half a mind to crawl overtop the wonderful woman and shower her with pleasure 'till dawn, yet she had better show restraint. If she approached, if Hermaeus Mora took control of her again, now…
"Mal?"
Fuck.
How could she avoid this? How could she keep Serana safe?
There was only pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of long-awaited and finally and swiftly and bleakly delivered death—
The sweet scent of snowberries overpowered her senses. Her feet moved of their own accord — and Malenia found herself straddling the vampire, her hand numb and endlessly reckless and restless for touch; a sharp thrill shot thorugh her at the sensation of Serana's hands over her hips, lifting the sweat-stained blouse up and over her head. The two drew closer, hot and chill breaths mingling in with the redhead's growing moans.
"Serana," she gasped, taking hold of the nape of the other woman's neck.
The vampire kissed her hard. "Stay with me…"
Now freed from her garments, Malenia relaxed herself, back against wall, her chest pressed against Serana's. Alduin's Wall could wait. Those black-darkened damnable fucking thoughts could abate, and all of the doubts and all of the fears.
Tonight would last a little longer.
Dawn sent them riding again; the woods seemed to close in around them. All about them rock and root and branch wore green blankets of grass. Malenia could not feel her legs, hanging useless in the stirrups, though she resolved to push on. For her part, Serana seemed entirely unbothered, gloved hands clasping tightly Wraith's reins. The redhead began to curse and swear as soon as she saw what awaited them. The vampire glowered in silence. "That can't be broken into," Agmaer declared, all-too-fucking-pointlessly.
"No shit."
Brelyna mused, "But exploded into…" Aware of her words, she glanced about self-consciously. "But that might break the Wall as well. We have need of that, yes?"
Serana hopped elegantly off the milky-white horse, stark against the surroundings. "The documents didn't mention a way in, only that this place is important somehow. Mal?"
Mal. She tsked. Stall for time, don't let them know. "That old sack of shit might be dead, but his friend is still alive." For now. "Why do we even bother? Just wait for her."
Esbern was evidently the smart one of the duo, yet Delphine had managed to survive this long with the Thalmor wanting her demise. She had her uses too, after all. In agreement, Agmaer unfurled tents and set about creating a campfire, draping furs, hammering pikes into the few bits of earth he had seen in lieu of hardened rock, and chatted all the while with Brelyna of some farmer's drivel.
When the Dunmer turned, Malenia thought she glimpsed the slightest murderous ideation within her crimson gaze.
Frost and winter's grip had thawed, if only just, and Serana had evidently intended to make the full of it. She kicked off her boots, digging her toes into the thick, soft grass as she sat with her back to one of the many pine trees of the Reach, and read for a while, a soft hum under her breath. The Book of the Dragonborn, if Malenia had read it right.
Loathe as she was to admit to it, few things contented her more than curling up away from all the noise. And maybe having Serana in her arms — if the vampire behaved.
Standing on one leg, Malenia pulled off one longboot, and then the other, then the sheepskin socks. With her feet now bared, she moved 'till she stood beneath the tree, and lowered herself unceremoniously to the grassy knoll. Entranced by the ancient words on the page, Serana had not as yet taken notice of her. Those books always took her away from Tamriel, mused the redhead, ocean-blue eyes examining her beloved. A gasp fell suddenly from the woman as she felt a touch upon her; a long rosy finger tucking away a strand of dark hair, swiftly and sweetly followed by rosy lips upon her temple and a raspy voice in question.
"Why read about the Dragonborn when I'm right here?"
Serana looked up, smiling. "Because the real Dragonborn is more irritable than an ogre. I like the one on the page better."
"Tch. Who the fuck even is it, anyway?"
Try as she might, Malenia could scarcely remember her history. There was Martin Septim, she remembered him and his foolishly heroic quest against the Daedra, yet all the others escaped her.
Not that it mattered. They were all dead. As will I.
You have always been mine.
"Some stupid Emperor?"
"Mmm. No-one specific. Just…"
Leaning, the vampire let her head fall into the redhead's lap, red-rimmed eyes drawn to the trees and the starry skies above. A smile fell onto her pretty parted pallid lips as she felt her cheek being stroked, ever so softly; Malenia felt the smooth skin beneath her fingertip, the slightest sensation of a scar from sometime long ago, then tapped her thumb lightly onto Serana's nose. The vampire grinned fully.
"Join me?"
Malenia did so, lowering herself so that she laid next to the other woman. She stared at the darkness high above. Secunda was hidden behind the thick cloud cover and the mountains of the Reach, though Masser was resplendent in its coppery-orange hue. Between the moons, faded by the clouds, was The Lover's scarlet constellation, with its scarlet hair forming a ringlet across the sky.
For what may have been hours, the two said naught a word. Even the rustlings of the campfire had quieted. The redhead's fingers moved across the ground below, the grasses, a loose rock — before finally finding the vampire's. Their little fingers twined lightly together. They still did not speak, though Malenia thought she could somehow sense a delicate flutter inside her beloved.
Were this to be the moment that she died, she would have been entirely fine with it.
Serana craned her head a little. "Remember Markarth?"
Why in Oblivion were so many insistent on bringing that up? Calcelmo, that Oblivion-damned laboratory of his, the Thalmor giving chase… and seeking false refuge inside that accursed house of horrors. How could she ever forget? Carrying Serana in her arms, that first crack, the show of vulnerability, knowing just how Serana had suffered and even then longing to hold her and cherish her and protect he—
"I don't mean all that. When we spent the night with that woman, the one you'd helped, or whatever it was." Serana puckered her lips, a lone elegant fang peeking out. "When we shared a bed…"
"Just say it." She cursed this insufferable blush.
"Were you holding me?"
It had been a mistake, then, most certainly not not not intentional. Her feelings for Serana had been less than nothing, save perhaps for some amount of scorn, yet also yearning.
Malenia scoffed. "Shut up."
"I knew it!" Were she not so very comfortable, the vampire may well have jumped up in excitement. She settled for squeezing gently the hand in her grasp instead. "For how much of a bitch you were back then, I knew you couldn't sleep without me."
An insult bloomed, swiftly smothered.
Malenia rolled on her left side, scarred leather-bound arms envelopiing the vampire, who tensed for only a brief moment before letting herself relax, her body curling instinctively around the shapes and contours she had grown used to in the weeks since Castle Volkihar. Against herself — Malenia felt tears rushing down her face, and it was not nearly enough to hide them against the soft dark curls.
"I can't either." She breathed shakily against Malenia who held her tighter. "Not anymore, not ever."
More time spent in that quiet bliss, where it felt as if nothing in all-Tamriel could bring them harm. Oblivion take Hermaeus Mora and His ilk, and Alduin and the fucking Greybeards and the rest of them, they were forgotten, nothing else mattered.
"Ahem."
Ocean-blue eyes shot open; they narrowed in frustration at the sight hovering just above. "Fuck, you're ugly."
Delphine's boots made dull thuds with each step. "Get up. Get up. You've wasted enough time, and don't you even think I've forgotten how we left things in Riften. I told that boy to make certain the temple would be open by now. Why is it not?"
Why have I not strangled you already? The redhead sat with a groan, still being held. "That fucking thing is clamped shut. You've any ideas? Then fucking get to it."
As they approached the ruin, this Sky Haven Temple, her frown grew and grew; she did not believe in omens, and yet… Malenia had never seen a temple half so ancient, nor yet one connected to the World-Eater himself, tinged in those terrible colours, the colours of fire and blood. Gargoyles and dragons speckled the tall walls on either side, hundreds that brooded over the fortress. She had not taken notice of them at first, not when someone much lovelier was her sole focus, and now…
Serana was the first to speak. "They wouldn't keep this place locked up for no reason. What is the temple?"
Delphine's steely-grey eyes narrowed, as if irritated at the thought of having to converse with a vampire. Malenia instinctively drew closer as the old woman stared on. "It once served as an outpost for the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard, during their conflict against the dragons. I don't know much… it was Esbern that was knowledgeable." Though she never turned, it was clear just who her sweltering ire was aimed towards. "Nevermind that." A pause. "Sky Haven Temple was built by the Akaviri, themselves Dragonborn. Blood; blood is the key." She whirled about. "It must be yours. You are Dragonborn."
The redhead winced; she knew well what bloody destiny was in store for her, what bitter and cruel twist of fate had seen fit to curse her with this.
"Get it over with."
Cool and careful hands enveloped her at once. Malenia's shoulders relaxed — and a sigh escaped her as fangs dipped and curved and embedded themselves into her wrist, followed by a nearly inaudible purr. The wrist was kissed then, the tender rosy flesh pressed to Serana's face.
"Will this be enough?" The blood had poured onto a depression in the stone, flowing on towards the wall carved into the likeness of Emperor Reman II. The vampire's grasp tightened.
Delphine glared. "How can you expect me to—"
"It better be. I'm not hurting her again."
The silent face shifted, then lowered into the partly-thawed earth, groaning as the aged stone and steel moved. Bridges awaited within, overgrown, collapsed, scurrying with skeevers somehow having dug their way inside, yet onwards they pressed. Delphine led the way with torch in hand; she muttered and she complained, and named Esbern with a certain sense of longing.
Malenia felt only the slightest guilt. She'd held no love for the old man, not some old fool met and murdered within the span of mere minutes, yet the manner of it, being controlled so very cruely…
Labyrinthine though it was, Sky Haven Temple proved empty enough. No signs of previous entry, no traps nor ghostly spirits of the ancient Akaviri, as Agmaer openly worried, nothing at all save for—
She saw, and she recognised.
Golden-blonde hair was tied into an elegant braid, drooping down to the woman's back, and her glimmering green eyes were narrowed deep in thought — but it was the woman's black-and-gold garb that summoned the redhead's rage, the booming Thu'um of, "Wuld!" as she moved across the strange antechamber and just nearly crashing into the stranger, and narrowly avoiding her. Hers would not be a swift death. As Thalmor, she deserved only to suffer.
"Took you long enough."
Let go…
Thief... Renegade... Murderer... Servant…
She growled at the sound of that voice, that awful falsely manicured blasted blistering fucking fucking fucking fucking voice—
"Calm yourself." The Thalmor woman raised a gloved finger. "We are here for the same thing, you see. This," she pointed at the wall to her right, "is what we believe to be Alduin's Wall. The very same treasure carved and hidden by the Akaviri. Fascinating, is it not?"
How could she act so very composed, even now? The redhead's lungs burned, soothed only by the woman that she craved, that she loved and desired even now… she did not hear Serana rush to her, but the feel of those gentle lips upon hers was enough.
The rage subsided; the voices stilled. She breathed.
Delphine beheld an ebony longsword, pointed at the Thalmor's head. "You don't get to come back here, not now, not after how you—"
Malenia glared. "You fucking know her?"
"Obviously she does." The Thalmor waved her hands in an elegant flourish. "Must we really bother with this? Very well. This is Delphine, ancient relic of the past, and I," she said with a golden grin, "am Aurewen, the very best of the Dominion's archeologists. Before you feel the need to worry your pretty little head," she told Malenia, "no, the likes of the Ambassador doesn't know I am working with this here Blade, nor do I intend to let her or any of my superiors know."
"And you just happened to find your way here?" Serana stood, hands poised to summon frost at a moment's notice. "I saw those documents; they mentioned Thalmor."
"And are you not just so very lucky that you found me instead of the likes of Rulindil? He is much less amiable than I."
Aurewen… wen… wen…
The Altmer gave a shrug as she sauntered about, glimmering verdant gaze lingering between Alduin's Wall, the assembled group — and Malenia herself. She seemed to have taken a particular interest in the unraveling redhead.
"You are just as she spoke of you. Amazing."
Delphine. Malenia growled, torn between the temptations of murder and slaughter and ending this horrible woman's life, that terrible name that was much too similar to…
And just why had Delphine felt free to share information about her? Just what else had she revealed?
Aurewen smiled. "Now. If you could save your questions? Yes, I belong to the Dominion. No, I do not much care for their plans of elven domination. Yes, just like you I happen to live in this miserable rubble-heap we lovingly call Tamriel, and I would rather prefer to keep living on it, which the World-Eater seems dead-set on disrupting. I help you, you help me, we both live and we can go on with our lives. Good?"
"Not fucking good," barked Serana, red-rimmed eyes aflare.
"Good," replied Aurewen. Her attention shifted to the Wall. "This pane goes back to the beginning of time, when Alduin and the Dragon Cult ruled over Skyrim." Her finger trailed over the aged stone. "Here the humans rebel against their dragon overlords — the legendary Dragon War. Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of the Wall. You see, here he is falling from the Sky. The Nord Tongues; masters of the Voice; are arrayed against him."
"Does it show how they defeated him?" Delphine asked. "Isn't that why we're here?"
"Patience, dearest. The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism." As she looked on, her face lit with burning curiosity. "Yes, yes, this here, coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes… this is the Akaviri symbol for Shout. But… there is no way to know which Shout is meant."
Shouts, dragons, the Akaviri, now this irritable woman. Malenia stood, her body wracked by trembling. Was it fear — or was it the wiles of Hermaeus Mora?
All alone in the depths…
Let go…
Malenia cradled her head, palm slick with sweat black as tar, and stenching of aged blood. The vampire's ignorance of this told her the truth of it; this was mere illusion. She stared at Aurewen, grimacing, considering. One swift slash, and this Thalmor would be dead and rotting in the ground, yet Esbern was dead too, and Delphine did not seem the scholar.
Loathe as she was to admit, whatever the elf knew had its uses.
"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world," Aurewen went on, "when the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped; when the thrice-blessed fall and the Red Tower trembles; when the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls; when the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding; the World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."
Oblivion calls you home.
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Last Edited Fri 07 Feb 2025 07:15AM UTC
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