Chapter Text
Darkness.
She was aware of nothing but darkness and silence. After ages and ages – or perhaps a few seconds – she dimly realized that she was aware of the darkness. Next the smells came to her, faint as imagination, but slowly becoming more real: two of her own kind, that oily ash-smell... and a mortal.
A mortal. With blood.
There was a sound of stone grinding on stone, then sudden light. She tottered forwards, trying to catch herself, but her legs refused to balance and she was falling – but a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and brought her gently down to her knees. The scent of blood came to her again, and she looked towards it, nuzzled against it; the hands left her and she was aware of someone backing away hurriedly.
“I... what...” she mumbled, and staggered to her feet.
Before her there was indeed a mortal. And he was indeed bleeding: his right hand was covered. Her hunger screamed, but slowly she forced her mind to take in more detail. About her own height or a little less, young rather than old, fair, human but with somewhat pointed features, wearing robes, with a sheathed sword... He was standing in a casual-seeming stance, but she noticed that his left hand, held at his side as if relaxed, was making a warding gesture. Mage. Fast heartbeat – fear?
“Where's... who sent you? ” she demanded, and her wavering voice was suddenly firm on the last words.
“No one sent me,” he said. His voice was soft, but the pronunciation was definitely foreign. Not a Nord. Breton?
“I don't believe you,” she said. “Who are you working for? Are you one of my father's little acolytes?” She dropped to a fighting stance and red light gathered in her hand. He took a step back, left hand forwards, and she was pleased to hear his heart speed up.
“No one sent me,” he said again. Though she knew he was afraid his voice was still outwardly calm. Magic swirled around him, but as yet he made no hostile move. “I have no idea who your father is, but believe me, I'm sure I wouldn't like him any more than you seem to. I don't work for anyone, but I was working with the Vigilants of Stendarr, and I was just here for those two.”
He gestured behind him. She kept her stance, facing him warily, but let her eyes wander around the cavern. Quickly she noticed the two of her own kind she had smelled, their bodies lying some distance behind the stranger. They were charred almost black.
“A vampire-hunter, then?”
“Not exactly. But for them I made an exception.”
Neither spoke for some time. She had the sense that he was examining her, sizing her up. Whatever he said, he didn't look like a friend. But, curiously, he also didn't act like someone who intended to fight.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, what?”
“You must be new to this, so I'll explain it for you,” she said, and put on a grin she did not feel. She gestured to herself, then to him. “I am a vampire. You are a vampire-hunter. What happens next is, you attack me, and then I get to have a little snack.”
He paled, but when he spoke his voice was still light. “I told you, I'm not a vampire-hunter. Well, yes, granted,” he said, when she looked pointedly at the charred remains of the other two, “most vampires I've met I ended up killing, but it's a pretty small sample size, and they were all trying to kill me first. You are currently not doing that. It's kind of a new experience for me, to be honest, and I'd like to see where it goes; but not as much as I'd like us both to go our separate ways and pretend this never happened.”
She almost smiled at that. She relaxed slightly, and the energy gathering in her hand dispersed. In all likelihood she'd end up having to kill this mortal, but he clearly wasn't going to attack her imminently. And he was afraid of her, however he tried to hide it, so she didn't need to worry about him overmuch. Besides, at the moment her first priority had to be information and answers. She let more of her attention wander to her surroundings and started looking around the cavern.
He noticed her eyes sweeping over the age-worn stone, the crumbling pillars and moss-overgrown walls. Her face grew increasingly confused; the confusion deepened ever more to worry, and the worry into the beginnings of panic.
“I probably shouldn't ask,” he said. “You know, in case you remember I'm here and decide to eat me. But are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course. Probably.” Her eyes still scanned the surroundings. “I know this will sound like a stupid question, but what's the date?”
“The 31st of Frostfall.”
“And the year?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Year 200 of the Fourth Era.”
“The... Fourth Era.” It wasn't a question. Her face fell, and sudden anxiety showed in her eyes. “That's probably not good. Tell me, who's the High King of Skyrim?”
“That's a little up for debate,” he replied in some confusion. Who dated according to the High Kings anymore? “Currently, Torygg of Solitude wears the crown, but a large section of the Nord population supports Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm. They think Torygg is too friendly to the Dunmer and even allege he's a puppet of the Empire, but –”
“Empire?” Her eyes went wide. “What Empire?”
“The... Empire. From Cyrodiil. Founded by Talos of Atmora, who reigned as Tiber Septim. From the sands of Elsweyr to the snows of Skyrim, from High Rock to Morrowind. The Empire.”
“Cyrodiil's the seat of an empire?”
She simply stared, at nothing in particular. He thought he could walk away and she would never notice.
Instead, as it so often did, curiosity got the better of him. “So... I can't help but notice you have an Elder Scroll.”
She started, as if realizing again where she was. She felt over her shoulder for the large cylinder strapped to her back. Still there. Of course the blasted thing would still be there.
“It's mine,” she said quickly.
He raised his hands apologetically. “Of course. I can't read the things anyway. But why do you have it? And for that matter, why were you sealed away at the bottom of this gods-forsaken cave, with – and I want to emphasize this – an Elder Scroll?”
Her expression softened. “It's... complicated. And I'm not sure I can trust you.”
He looked amused by that.
“Look,” she continued, “you probably won't like this, but I may need your help.” Damn it. Not a time to be proud. “I don't know how long I've been down here, but something definitely went wrong, and I have no idea what the world outside is like right now. But if you help me get back to my family's home so I can find out what's going on, and you don't betray me along the way, I'll tell you more of the story.”
He considered that. “I help you back to your family home. Presumably they're vampires too. So we get there, you tell me the story, and then they kill me. You've kept your word, technically, and I'm dinner.”
“Paranoid much?”
“I like living.”
She shook her head, smiling. “It's overrated, you know. But fine, I promise, I won't attack you, and I'll do everything I can to keep you safe if others try to hurt you. If you make me the same promise.”
He only hesitated for a moment. The temptation was too great. “Agreed. I will take no hostile action against you, nor allow others to do so, until we get you home, and you've told me what's going on, and I've left safely.”
She nodded, and they both relaxed. “I'm Serana,” she said.
“Alexien. It's a pleasure.”
“At least you're polite. Most mortals aren't. So, do you know a way out of here?”
Alexien pointed back over his shoulder. “That's the way I came, but I'd rather not go back that way, if it's all the same to you. There was a bit of an accident. Random spell caused a cave-in. Rather gruesome, bits of draugr everywhere.”
She sighed and gestured behind her; he could just make out a path leading to stairs. “There might be another exit this way, it's where I came in. At least, I think it is. It's... been a while, and everything looks different.” She looked at him. “By the way, do you want to do something about that bleeding?”
He raised his right hand. The sleeve was drenched with blood, but there was no wound. “Already healed. Afraid I can't do anything about the stains. Will that be a problem?”
Her hunger surged, but she forced it down. “No. You're a healer, then?”
“A mage. But Restoration is undervalued in Skyrim.”
She nodded absently. Neither moved. “So,” she started, “would you like to be a gentleman and lead the way?”
“No offense,” he said, “but, all things considered, I would prefer not to have you behind me. I think you're trustworthy and all, but I'd rather be rude than dead.”
“And no offense,” she said, “but I'd rather not have a vampire-hunter behind me either. Side by side?”
He nodded and moved up beside her, and they turned together and started along the path. They walked on awkwardly for a while, each trying to keep an eye on the other without falling behind or going ahead. Suddenly Serana stopped and put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, and felt a surge of satisfaction when his heart jumped.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She pointed at an alcove beside the stairwell ahead. “Gargoyle ahead.”
He strained his eyes to see. She had to remember he was all but blind down here. “Yes?”
“It'll come alive and attack when we get closer.”
“Really?” He sounded fascinated. “That I haven't seen before. It's stone, though, so I assume it's hard to take down. What do you advise?”
“Massive blunt force trauma.”
“Simple enough.” He shook out his sleeves, hesitated a moment, seemed to come to a decision, and started advancing. “I'll distract it. And if you can refrain from stabbing me in the back while we're at it, that would be great.”
She nodded, but thought that unless he was a lot faster than he looked, she was soon going to be cleaning bloody pieces of wizard off the floor.
He crept forward cautiously; but just as she had predicted, when he was only a few steps from the statue it exploded into movement and launched itself at him. It was at least twice his height and many times his weight, and unfairly fast for something its size, with wickedly sharp claws aimed, of course, at his throat.
He threw forward both hands and shot a spike of ice at it. It stumbled – only for a moment, but long enough for him to leap to the side and get out of the way of any spells Serana might throw. It noticed her and was briefly undecided who to tear to pieces first, but Alexien launched another projectile of ice that shattered on the side of its face. It faced him squarely and struck out, putting all its weight into a crushing blow.
Serana drew power and watched, with some annoyance, as the creature reared back to obliterate her new traveling companion. And they'd just met, too. But just before the blow landed, she saw him make that same warding gesture and throw his left hand forwards. A blue-white shield appeared before him him; the stone claw struck it and recoiled; the shield held, Alexien tottered but kept to his feet, otherwise unharmed, and threw another blast of ice. Maybe he wasn't a complete pushover after all.
Her own spells connected a moment later, more focused from the additional time she'd had to concentrate, and a pair of ice spears with points hardened steel-sharp went straight through the gargoyle's body.
That only seemed to infuriate it. It rounded on Serana and charged in her direction.
Alexien leapt up behind it, pointing a hand at a chunk of a collapsed pillar lying on the floor, then at the thing's back; the stone projectile shot forwards and struck with a crash like thunder. A crack opened from the gargoyle's shoulders down to its side. It spun around to face him again, and that moment's indecision finished it: another of Serana's ice spears pierced it from behind and projected out its neck, and in a moment it had fallen to pieces on the floor.
Serana waltzed forwards, grinning at the impressed look he shot in her direction. He muttered “Thanks,” then knelt down and started examining the remains of the gargoyle.
“They're my mother's,” Serana said, answering his unasked question. “She kind of has a thing for magical constructs. I mean – not a thing, she just finds them interesting. She always favored Conjuration.”
Alexien nodded absently, feeling around through the pile of rubble.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“No, I just find it interesting as well,” he said. He found a gem amid the fragments of stone, lifted it up to the light for a moment, and put it in his pocket. “I've never seen autokinetic stone before. Are they sentient or just automata?”
She rolled her eyes. “Great, another conjurer. I'm sure you and my mother will get along splendidly.”
“Hardly. I like the theory, but as for practice, it isn't really my subject.” He stood up. “The College would want me to make a record of something like this, though.”
“The College – Winterhold?”
“The same. I'm a magister there. Though I'm supposed to be out in Skyrim cataloguing interesting new discoveries, not meeting interesting new women in ancient crypts, so they might be a little disappointed in me.”
“I'm not exactly 'new.'”
“But you do think you're interesting?”
She rolled her eyes again, exaggerated enough to be sure he'd notice, then turned to lead the way up the stairs. “You travel around Skyrim a lot, then?”
“About half the time. When I'm not hunched over a book at the College library, yes, I'm out traveling through Skyrim. A couple of times down to Cyrodiil. Morrowind isn't very welcoming right now, and I try to avoid High Rock.”
“This... is the farthest from home I've ever been,” said Serana, mostly to herself. She suddenly noticed Alexien looking at her quizzically, and her brain kicked her for giving away information about herself.
“You prefer a more... domestic life, then? Er, that is –”
“We just... no, not really, but we weren't exactly encouraged to wander far,” she said. “My father felt it wasn't safe.”
“Can't argue with that,” muttered Alexien. They continued up the stairs a while. “So where's this family home I've agreed to take you to?”
“On the coast, northwest of Solitude. I assume Solitude is still there?”
“Still there. Not too far, then; maybe a week on the road, unless we're very unlucky. Will sunlight be a problem?”
“Not as long as I'm well fed,” she smirked at him.
He missed a step and stumbled, but didn't answer.
“Problem?” she asked sweetly.
“Not at all. Just have to remind myself you'll probably be the quite literal death of me,” he said brightly. They came to a landing with a doorway into another series of rooms. “At least I'll die in entertaining company. Wait here a second.”
“Why?”
He didn't answer, instead raising his right hand. She felt him channel power; but for a moment there was no observable effect, until suddenly she felt something wash over her, an odd tingling sensation that made her feel visible and exposed. She fought a passing desire to hide in a hole.
“What was that?”
“Detect Undead. Sorry about that. But there are draugr up ahead. Quite a number of them.”
“They were always so gullible when I was a girl,” she reminisced.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, now they're more into murder first and not asking any questions later. How are you with fire?”
“Fine, as long as you point it away from me. How do you want to do this?”
“We go in and re-kill everything that moves.”
“A brilliant plan. Subtle. I like it.”
“Yes, my tactical genius is famed across Tamriel.” He drew his sword. “Ladies first this time, I think.”
Serana strode confidently through the doorway, and found herself in a cavern so enormous it could contain a small castle. The ceiling stretched into shadow overhead, and the floor sloped down in terraces to a central arena. She frowned; this didn't look familiar – had she been brought through here unconscious? Blindfolded? Try as she might, she just couldn't remember.
The thought didn't disturb her long; she was soon distracted by a dozen humanoid forms rising from niches in the wall, silhouetted against the darkness but with pinpoint-eyes burning, weapons clutched in their dead hands. She barely had time to think No, they don't look at all like the draugr I remember, before they rushed her.
But she was a vampire and they were slow. She grinned and let them swing clumsily at her, dodging and weaving between their blows, like she was remembering a forgotten dance. Suddenly she lashed out with her bare hands, no magic, and tore one apart by main strength, just to feel the joy of her own body's power. Then she summoned ice and lightning and laid waste all around her.
She glanced over to see how her new mageling was faring. Alexien was also fighting several at once, not as elegantly as her, not as easily, but competently enough. Any that tried to keep their distance, he blasted with fire; any that ventured close, his sword cut through. He was no master bladesman, but one didn't have to be to lop off bits of corpses. She watched as he parried a strike with his sword, then set flame to his opponent with a touch. He might make a decent ally after all, for a while.
Another draugr swung an axe at her and she refocused her attention, pirouetting aside away from the blow; then she thrust both hands forward and with an effort of will froze the creature into solid ice.
There was a flash of white light behind her, hot and stinging like the sun on a mountain top, and Serana felt a sudden stab of strange panic. She turned and saw Alexien surrounded; but the draugr were now running away from his spell. They went down in flame.
He was breathing hard and holding his sword a little limp, but trying not to let her notice. Adorable. He looked up towards her, and she imagined herself as she must appear to him, standing unhurt and untired amid the broken pieces of her enemies. She smiled innocently.
His eyes went wide, and he threw a hand forward and sent a thunderbolt directly at her chest.
She dodged lazily, a little disappointed, not at the betrayal, but at its clumsiness – until she heard a thud-hiss behind her, and turned to see one final draugr sinking to the floor.
She turned to stare back at Alexien as a slow smile spread across his face. “Your aim is shit,” she said.
“I knew you'd move.”
“And if I hadn't, you'd be down one unwanted traveling companion, so you win either way.”
“Now who's paranoid?”
“I like not-living.”
He started to reply – but he heard a series of pounding steps behind him and was just in time to dodge the sweep of a greatsword as big as himself, midnight-black and cruel. The creature wielding it was a monstrosity, a draugr only because it was still more unlike anything else. Before he could study it it swung again. He leapt back out of its range, not wanting to come hand-to-hand with it, and started channeling power; but as it charged, it opened its mouth and spoke, spoke words almost human, in a voice weak and raspy with age that somehow still echoed all around him, reverberating in his mind; and suddenly he was on his back looking up at the great blade coming down at him.
Then suddenly Serana stood over him. She grabbed the blade in her bare hands, twisted to the side, and sent it clattering across the floor.
The draugr without hesitation opened its jaws inhumanly wide and fell upon her, fastening its age-black teeth over her collarbone. She screamed.
From the floor Alexien conjured a block of ice and launched it at the thing's abdomen; the impact tore it backwards, and Serana struck it in the face, forcing it back another half-step. Then they both hit it at the same time with charged lightning. For a moment Alexien was blinded by the light, his ears ringing from the thunderclap.
“Dagon take it!” he heard Serana cursing.
He scrambled to his feet and forced his eyes to open. What was left of the creature lay some distance away. Serana was twisting her head to the side, one hand gingerly feeling her mangled neck and shoulder. He noticed that her blood was black. There was a lot of it to notice.
“Here,” he said hesitatingly, reaching a hand towards her injury, “let me –”
“No, wait –”
His hand glowed eerie-red, not the usual golden light of healing, and she felt a sudden sting; but the burning ache faded. She glanced down again and saw the wound closing. She looked at him curiously, but his eyes were closed in concentration.
After a moment the wound had covered over completely. Alexien opened his eyes to see her staring at him. He hastily withdrew his hand.
“You know how to heal undead?” she asked. “Are you a necromancer?”
“Arkay, no,” he said, with a grimace. “But the theory's simple enough. It's just anti-healing. You take a perfectly normal healing spell and sort of... reverse it, invert the energy pattern. From what I've read, anyway.”
“From what you've read? You just decided to try out, on me, a spell you've never cast before, and blindly trusted it wouldn't backfire horribly, because you read a book?”
“A couple of books. And it worked,” he said defensively.
Serana stretched her shoulder. “Yeah, I guess it did. Thanks. Just ask next time, if you please.”
She opened a pocket and pulled out a vial of red liquid, examined it for a moment, then, with a look of relief, twisted off the cap and downed the contents.
“Is that –?”
“You don't want to know.”
Alexien nodded and went to pick up his sword. He sheathed it distractedly with a puzzled look on his face. Then, “Do you hear that?” he asked.
She listened. “I don't hear anything.”
“Maybe it's just my head still pounding from whatever that thing shouted at me, but I swear, there's a voice.”
“My hearing's better than yours, and I don't hear anything.”
“Well, that's... not good,” he said, frowning. But his eyes were locked on something over Serana's shoulder.
“Rule one of magic,” Serana said, looking at him with some concern. “Hearing voices other people can't is bad.”
He nodded but didn't seem to really hear her. Eyes still focused over her shoulder, he slowly walked past her up to a wall. He ran a hand over it, and suddenly Serana noticed that it was covered with irregular scratches, regularly spaced. Writing?
“What's it say?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I have no idea,” he answered, his hand still tracing over the patterns. It stopped over one symbol. “But this word means vigor. No, stamina.”
“How do you know?”
“I...” He frowned. “I'm not sure. I just know it. Like I know my own name.”
She shivered slightly. “What language it is?”
He only shook his head again, hand still resting over that same word. “It doesn't feel like any kind of dark magic I've ever heard of,” he muttered to himself.
“Come on,” Serana called, after another pause. “Let's get out of here.”
For several seconds Alexien didn't react. Finally he stirred. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and pulled away. “Just... keep an eye out, will you?”
She nodded, and they walked together towards a doorway on the opposite wall.
“Thank you,” he said suddenly. “For the part where you saved my life, I mean. Sorry, I should have said that sooner.”
“It's okay,” she said. “You were a little distracted by the unseen magic slowly spreading its tendrils into your mind and driving you to eventual insanity. I understand.”
“Will traveling with you always be this cheerful?”
“Most of the time. But don't worry, there will be enough moments of unbridled terror to keep you from getting bored.”
He actually chuckled at that.
After a moment, Serana added, “You're welcome.”