#that being said. am i going to PLAY daggerfall????? probably not

[altfire]

if i decide that drinks-deeply is 1000 years old, what obviously follows is that i could make him a hero in one of the older games. do i make him the agent. is he the agent to me. idk

[infinitehours]

From Dusk to Dawn, an Elder Scrolls Online short fic

Rivenspire spoilers and Daggerfall Covenant questline spoilers (specifically Stormhaven and main quest).  I did like the ideas behind the Rivenspire storyline, even if I did not always like the execution.  Author notes are first, then the story.  Leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed! 

Author notes before the story:  I’m actually not done with this story.  It’s still got another part to it that I just haven’t had the inspiration to write yet.  

This is my character Elyssa.  She's the youngest of my line-up *(only 18), and that distinction is important.  Naive and more than a little too trusting. She's also probably the only one who would purposely go out of her way just to coax a bunch of vampires into letting her stay the night, if only for the "coolness" factor of getting to stay the night at a vampire castle.

Once upon a time, I had plot bunny idea of a conversation concerning my traumatized Vestige about Molag Bal. I say traumatized because...let's be honest here.  The amount of stuff the Vestige goes through is alarmingly dark at times. It wasn't until I got to Rivenspire that I recognized the perfect situation this conversation could take place, and that the Count's status as a vampire who received his vampirism directly from Molag Bal (only to turn around and embrace morality) added an extra layer of meaning here. I hope that explains why I did this in the specific way that I did.  That vampires, and their abilities, are they themselves almost representations of Molag Bal's whole concept of domination and submission.  I like that bit of symbolism.   I don't think this particular story would have had as much of an impact otherwise.

It's canon that there are different strains of vampires and that they can do different things depending on the strain.  What's not entirely clear to me is how those mechanics always work (because we don't always see them in game), so forgive me for making a few things up. Additionally, ZOS confirmed they were changing how the feeding animation looks to something "more traditional" so I'm assuming we're going to get people biting necks in the update. Which is a lot better than the weird ridiculous looking funnel of blood, if I’m being honest here.

(one of the other reasons I wanted to write this was to come up with an explanation for why the Count is kind of...irritated all the time, lol)  

Content warnings: A little bit of Molag Bal torture going on here. Vampire biting.   Otherwise I can’t think of anything.  

***************

~~~~~~~~~~

“Difficulty sleeping?”  

Those were the first words out of his mouth the moment she stepped lightly into the study.  Even without turning around, even without her making a sound, he seemed to be keenly aware she was there.  It might have been unnerving if she didn’t know anything about him.  

“Nightmares,” was her reply, the shadow of a sad smile coming and going on her lips.  

He nodded silent acknowledgement as she took one of the carved wooden seats available.  For a moment, she watched him as he stood with his back to her; he was stock still, almost statue-like, save for the occasional instance in which he turned the page.  He wore a different set of mage’s robes than he did earlier.  It was similarly a deep, dark grey, but this one had a few threads of red woven in a delicate pattern across the length of it.

“I suppose it quite normal for a mortal to have those when staying in a place like this.”  

He said it flatly, and it was difficult for her to work out whether he was irritated at the idea or resigned to it.

“I assure you, my lord Count,” she responded carefully in turn.  “I’ve been having nightmares long before I accepted your very generous offer to spend the night.”

Platitudes.  That was surely the best way to handle a noble, undead or not, right?

“But if it is at all upsetting to you that I’m here,” she continued, hastily, “It would be a simple thing to pack my affects and travel to Shornhelm.”

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I am not bothered.  And it is likewise too dangerous to travel the roads at this time at night.”

His eyes still never seemed to pry themselves away from his research as he propped open another tome on top of a large pile of books that conveniently reached his height.  

“Vampires hunt best at this time, I’m sure.”  she said, off-handedly, her fingers dancing through the length of her reddish brown hair that was now free of her usual, careful braid.    

“There’s no sun to burn our skin, and our eyes are much better attuned to the dark than a mortal’s.  The bloodfiends, who are nothing more than feral members of our kind, operate much the same.  So long as the people stay indoors and within the city walls, they should be safe.  But a lone traveler, even on horseback, may offer up a too tempting target for them to resist.  You’d be snatched in the gloom and none would hear of it until the morning.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, though in her mind’s eye she played out a scene with her own mangled corpse lying by the side of the road.  Pale, glassy-eyed, bite-ridden and completely drained of blood.  She scowled at the thought, and shifted in her chair.

“It may not come down to that,” She said, her voice lacking the confidence she’d hoped for, “I’d say I’m pretty good at fighting bloodfiends; and, in fact, I’ve already fought some of them at night...”

“I don’t doubt that, Elyssa.  But is there any real reason to risk yourself unnecessarily? Stay here for the night, and I promise you can leave in the morning.  As early as it takes the sun to rise to the sky and offer you its protection.”

Her scowl deepened.  Did he think she was scared to spend the night at his home-castle-place-thing?  She knew that he was probably used to being a little bit defensive when it came to dealing with others (and that it was kind of her fault for somewhat insisting on staying to begin with), but he can’t honestly think she’d lost her nerve, could he?

“Count Verandis. I seem to have accidentally given you the impression that I’m uncomfortable here or that I desperately wish to leave if only you’d allow me.  Trust me when I say, if I was that desperate or felt like I was in that much danger, I would have already broken one of your pretty stained glass windows and JUMPED myself to freedom.”

She gestured towards the entryway.  “Although I’d probably just try the front door first. Something tells me you wouldn’t stop me, even if you do think it’s foolhardy for a mortal to be prancing about in the dead of night.”

He still didn’t turn away from his books, but from the angle of where she sat she could see the edge of his mouth twitching into, what she’d hope, was something akin towards a smile.  Or maybe that was just a trick of the light.

“I appreciate your consideration for my family home.  Stained glass is difficult to procure these days.”

She smiled at that (he HAD made a joke, right? That was meant as a joke, wasn’t it?), and adjusted herself so that she was lounging a bit in the chair.  Difficult to do, since the wood wasn’t exactly comfortable.  Her plain beige dress, what she usually wore to sleep, wasn’t padded enough to act as a cushion either.   She frowned for the third time that night, and straightened back up.  

“Do you want me to leave you to your studies?” She asked politely, just as the thought occurred to her.  It would act as an excuse to go back to the upstairs bedroom; one of the few rooms that actually had a bed in the entire castle.

“It’s not necessary.” He stated.  

She waited a moment.

“…May I ask a question?”

“If you insist.”  Again, in that flat, dull tone of his that never seemed to hold much emotion.  

“Are you always thirsty?”

This gave him pause, and she could see a few of his fingers ghosting over the latest text he held open before committing to turning another page.

“At some level, yes.  But if you’ve practiced for as long as I have and feed regularly, it’s barely noticeable.”

“So me being in this room for you is, thankfully, not distracting?”

“Your presence isn’t, no.”

Her eyes narrowed in on the back of his head. He was possibly, in a roundabout way, implying that her comments were distracting. It was another one of those statements that made it hard for her to figure out whether he was pissed off, slightly annoyed, or just bored.

“Would you like a bite?” She suddenly asked.

“What?” This time, he DID look up.  Even more, he turned to stare at her with something akin to surprise.

She sat to attention with a triumphant smirk. “Finally, a normal emotional reaction!”

And with that proclamation, his expression hardened and he returned to his books.

“I do not have time for childish endeavors, Elyssa.”  He said sourly.

“You just seem so….I don’t know. Detached.  Either that, or irritated at everyone all the time.  It’s hard to tell with you.  I think that may be the bulk of the reason why a lot of people may be uncomfortable around you.  It’s rather nice to see you actually have some…well…life left in you.”

“When you’ve lived as many years as I have, my child, and watched just as many of your friends age and die…short-lived humans, no less…people you’ve formed attachments to and cared for, again and again…You find ways of…removing yourself from all of it.  If only to ensure that it need not affect you as hard each time.”

Elyssa considered this.  “So…when you say you ‘care’ about the people of Rivenspire—“

“I do care,” He snapped his latest book shut and spun to face her. “I may not be able to feel as deeply as a mother who lost her first child, but I do care about what happens to the people of Rivenspire. I still remember what it was like to lose family, to lose loved ones, the depths of that pain.  Even if I cannot experience it fully for myself anymore, I remember enough to never wish it upon anyone else.  This is why I detest the idea of ever sharing this gift of mine; inflicting it upon others so that they would have to spend decades just learn how to control their despair enough to function.  Can you fathom, can you even imagine, the maddening realization that most everyone you love will soon wither and fade except yourself?”

He approached her at her chair, and though his voice still held that air of mild detachment, his glowing red eyes seemed to burn all the brighter with an inner light.

“You’re correct in the sense that I do have difficulties expressing this.  That I no longer have the capabilities to show others, in any genuine way, the measure of my desire to help.  Mortals rely so much on interpreting emotions through body language and tone of voice, and I am far beyond the point where I can easily weep in the presence of those who are weeping…or even do a decent attempt at trying.”

As he came to stop in front of her, he actually knelt to the ground. To her level.  Eye to eye.

“There’s a reason, in my belief, why the divines would dictate life to be so short and sweet.  Those of us who are cursed to live longer than normal risk…losing things in the process.  I often find myself wanting to socialize with mortals just to get some of that back.  A sense of personhood and direction.  Passions and strivings.  It’s truly remarkable to see reminders of how easy it comes to you.”

He carefully reached out his hand towards her cheek, as though she represented this.  As though she were a symbol of this very discussion.  Just as the tips of cold fingers brushed against her skin, she turned her head just a tad in an attempt to see it in her peripheral.  It was difficult to say whether he interpreted that as a flinch or he suddenly remembered himself, but he withdrew his hand again.  

“I apologize.” He said, getting up and returning once more to the bookshelves.  “I did not mean to touch you without permission.”

“What?  My cheek? That’s not a crime.” Elyssa replied, still trying to absorb everything he just told her.  

“Countess Tamrith would likely disagree with that assessment.”

“Countess Tamrith isn’t here.  And before you go back to your no-doubt riveting literature, I should tell you that I was genuine in offering my blood to you.”

He turned once more to her, an eyebrow delicately raised in questioning.  

“Is that so?  I believe the good Countess would now consider you to have committed a sin.” He asked, and his eyes stared straight at hers for a good measure.

For her part, believing that he was testing her resolve, she sat up straighter and met his gaze head on.

The room was silent for a moment.  

He took a tentative step towards her, and she was a little ashamed that the unexpected movement caused her to flinch. He stopped at the sight.

“We do not usually find people who willingly volunteer so soon after finding out about our condition. Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You certainly do not sound it.”

Elyssa huffed out the breath she’d been accidentally holding.  “Well…it isn’t as though I get bitten by a vampire every other day.  I’m not sure what to expect.  Does it hurt?”

“It’s a bite, Elyssa,” And this time, she was sure those glowing eyes of his were laughing at her even if his mouth didn’t show it. “Pain is usually involved in those.  I can, however, promise that it is certainly not excruciating.”

“Well that’s a relief…I think.”

He carefully stepped towards her while she sat stock still and staring straight ahead.  For every moment that he moved closer, she grew more and more uneasy.

“Should I stand up, then?” She said, trying to distract herself from imagining the pain too much; she’d a bad habit of blowing things out of proportion.

“It would be much preferable if you remained seated...Else the dizziness may cause you to fall.  It may even be better if you were to lie down…”

“Sorry, but there’s no way you’re going to get me onto your dining room table.  That would just be too…”  She recalled to mind an earlier scene of stumbling upon them whilst they sat around a half-naked Dark Elf “….awkward.  Awkward and probably uncomfortable.  For me, that is.  No idea if you feel a hundred percent comfortable with people just casually laying on-”

Her spiraling commentary came to a screeching halt when she felt his hand rest lightly on her shoulder.  The very same shoulder twitched, of its own accord, and he removed his hand shortly after.

“That’s the third time you’ve flinched,” he accused.

“No it’s not!” She blurted out.  “That’s barely the first!”

“Elyssa…”

“I can do this!  I’m not a coward!” She insisted, finally turning to face him as he stood right next to her.

“Nobody is calling you as such.  But this is also not necessary, and I believe I made it quite clear that my household only feeds on the willing.”

“I am willing!  I just….I…” Her resolve withered a bit in the midst of staring him down.

His eyes glowing red and unnatural.  A sign, perhaps from the Divines, as to dangers that could lurk behind them.  The same kind of red eyes on the bloodfiends she’d been fighting ever since she came to Rivenspire.

“…I…I just need a moment,” she finished, knowing full well that it was an admission of defeat.

He sighed and walked back to his books.  “Go back to bed, Elyssa.  I need to focus on figuring out what Montclair’s next movements may be.”

She sat there for a few moments longer, but he was firmly encased back in his notes and didn’t turn around again to acknowledge her again.  The obvious signs that the conversation was over.

He thought she was just being childish.

It stung a little, the obvious disregard. Ignored and brushed aside so casually. It almost felt a lot like the time her papa had caught her ruining one of his prized books even after she promised she wouldn’t touch it.  Except this was pretty much a stranger, and she couldn’t discern whether that made it somehow worse.

The feeling, the blatant disregard, threatened to stifle the little study they were in, and it became too much for her to bear that she did decide to leave.  

Slowly taking the steps back upstairs to the bedroom.

She passed a dead mouse and thought idly about it; one of the things that Adusa had done to help the servants prepare the room for her was to take out a couple of live mice.  They didn’t get many guests, or so Adusa said.

But she wondered if the mice weren’t just the natural result of vacancy; the bite mark on this one suggested they were also kept around as a midnight snack.

She chuckled a bit at that as she crept onto the double bed.  The fresh sheets had been thoroughly washed with soap, she had been told, and seemed so very new that they did not even have the usual frayed threads at the end or faded patterns.  And they were just a little bit stiff.

The mortal servants didn’t stay here; there were additional rooms downstairs beyond the storage alcove.  This was purely a guest room.  ….And it almost felt fake.   Like the immortal Count of the castle had attempted to make something seem homely, only for it to just perceptively feel off.

Perhaps the room had seen such rare usage that it failed to ever take on the personalities of those who had used it.

It might have even just been the fact that there were three very obvious coffins resting in the main hall, visible from the guest suite balcony.

It wasn’t bad...it was just…

“Comfy yet, little sweetthing?” The Dremora playfully poked her with the end of a very sharp and very pointy rod.

Elyssa struggled yet again, but the bars of the humanoid shaped cage held fast.

Cadwell…

Lyris…

The Prophet…

The only three kind voices in that entire prison, and they were screaming in agony right behind her.

“What are you doing to them?!  Stop it!”  She cried out, trying, in vain, to turn her head to look at them.

“Now now.  We assure you, they’re being WELL taken care of.” The Dremora poked her again right at her collarbone.  “Just as you will be!”

The screaming behind her increased, as if to prove a point.

“But ooh. Oooh.  It seems you have a guest, sweetling.  Someone is here. Just.  To see.  You.”

More Dremora came, dragging a human alongside them.  The woman was pushed in front of Elyssa’s cage.

“….I asked you for help…” The woman said, tears falling freely as she looked up.  

A shiver went down Elyssa’s spine as soon as she realized she was staring at the face of Duchess Lakana.

“Y-your Grace…”

“I asked you for help…and what did you do?”  The Duchess pointed an accusing finger. “You left me!  You left me alone with that man, that murderer!”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to….I didn’t mean to, I swear.  I didn’t know it was him…”  Her eyes began to water up, a mirror of the Duchess’ own face.

“How could you?  You said you would help me!  Why didn’t you do everything you could? Why didn’t you stay with me?”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”

“And you spared him!  You spared that monster!  How could you do that after he killed me?!”

“That’s enough of that!” The Dremora interrupted, prodding the Duchess to move along. “Put her Gracious Grace alongside the rest of them!  You’re starting a nice collection here, my little sweetling.”

And as soon as the Duchess was dragged out of sight, Elyssa could hear her start to scream as well.  

“Stop it!!  Let them go!!”  She rattled the cage as hard as she could.  

“Ooooh.  Making demands, are we? Do you truly think you’re in any position to save them? Look at you. You couldn’t save the Duchess.  You couldn’t save that family of that poor werewolf Duke. You couldn’t save your darling dearest father…”

The Daedra leaned right into her face, its teeth pearly white and crooked.  And the smell coming from its breath was positively putrid in an indescribable way that had no easy comparisons anywhere on Tamriel.

“…In fact, you can’t even save yourself.”

And with that, the Dremora rammed the rod straight into her shoulder, causing her to jerk back and scream.

Scream.

And Scream.  And fall back onto the…

….

…sheet covers…

Elyssa was shaking.  Her eyes darted back and forth as she ascertained that yes, those were indeed sheet covers.  She was in a room with a bed and nice looking wooden furniture.

In a room made out of stone.

A house.

No, a castle.

That’s right.  Ravenwatch Castle.

There were no Dremora in sight.  No screaming.  No water tainted blue with an eerie light.

No crags filled with bleakest rocks that spread out like daggers.

No distant tundras with nothing but dead plants the eyes could see.

No cages….

Elyssa took one, long, swipe of her hand against her brow, pulling away the sweat that had collected there.  She must have dozed off just then, only to be faced with yet another nightmare.

She tried to push it straight out of her mind and attempt to go back to sleep, but her legs demanded to wander.  That, and she was sure that if she closed her eyes again, the Daedra would return to haunt her.

Her feet took her back downstairs.  The shaking ever present in each and every one of her steps.  Soon enough, she found herself back at the study.  The doorway leading outside, the dining table, the whispering quiet of the night; it all gave the comforting confirmation that the horrors she’d just seen really were just dreams.

Adusa was out scouting the nearby towns and municipal villages.  Melina was out gathering supplies.  The mortal servants were likely fast asleep in their own quarters.  Gwendis was….well, Akatosh only knows where Gwendis went off to.   But sure and steady, Count Ravenwatch was still working in his study.  And the nightmare was fresh enough that she felt drawn to sticking around with the only conscious person she had easy access to.

The scratch of a feather quill paused only briefly as she stood at the threshold.

“Contrary to whatever you may believe, Elyssa,” The Count stated, never looking up. “The sun does not, in fact, rise every twenty minutes like you seem to do.”

Her shaking died down just enough to allow her the dignity of a glare in his direction.  Now she was convinced: the real reason people were uncomfortable around him had absolutely nothing to do with his status as a vampire.

“Bite me,” She seethed back at him.

She’d meant it as an insult.  A come back.  But she realized her mistake when he stopped writing to give her back one, long, unamused look.  Complete with an eyebrow raised.

“Did we not just have this conversation?” He said, turning to another page.

“I don’t care.  I’d rather have conversations all night long if it means I don’t have to go back to sleep.”

She started pacing a bit around the study’s doorway, if only to give her mind something to focus on and her legs something to do.

But as she made a few passes, she noticed he had stopped working and was watching her.  This time with a far more unreadable expression than the blatant apathy.

“What are your dreams about that has you so terrified?”  

“Coldharbour,” She whispered, just barely under her breath.  It must have been loud enough for him to hear her, because his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve…actually been there?”

The moment she stopped her pacing was the moment her shaking started up again.   She looked him in the eyes, but found she couldn’t stand to do that for long and had to look towards the floor.

She could hear him whisper something unintelligible; cursing, perhaps, under his breath in Aldmeris.

“You carry a much heavier burden than I initially thought.” He said, “You’re far, far too young for all of this…”

“I can help!  I know I can!” Elyssa insisted, “I’m not afraid of Coldharbour!  I’m not afraid of the bloodfiends!  I’m not afraid to get bitten!  I can prove it! You can have my blood; take it!”

It was supposed to be a reaffirming statement, but her protestations almost made her sound even more childish.

“Elyssa…” he spoke calmly.  Carefully.  “Why is it so important to you that you give me your blood?”

“Because you need it, don’t you?”  She said, frustrated.  She began her pacing again.

“That’s not the reason.”

“Because I want to be helpful!”

“That’s also not the reason.”

This time, she stopped pacing and got angry.

“Because if I don’t give everything I can, and something happened to you, or the High King, or the people of Rivenspire, it will be all my fault again!!”

She yelled it out, and her body feeling a little lighter as she did.  Even as her eyes had begun to water just a bit.

“There it is…” Verandis said softly.

And he left her a moment to go over to the cabinet by the door.

“One of the greatest strengths…” he said, and she could hear him fiddling with something. “…Of the Daedric Prince of Domination is not just in his talent to forcefully suppress a person’s free will or inflicting their greatest fears, but in his capacity for making them feel guilt.”

He returned with a glass of a deep red liquid.  “Physical pain may fade with time, but guilt has a habit of remaining.  What’s worse, it’s often the sufferer that fosters and grows it.  Is there any torture more perfect than that which the victim inflicts upon themselves?  Sit down, Elyssa.”

“What…?”  She glanced from him to the glass as he sat it down at the table between the two chairs in the study.

“If you still insist that I taste your blood, then I must insist that you sit down first.”

Her eyes grew wide a moment, but she clenched her fists out of resolve and held fast as she cautiously took the seat to the right.  He maneuvered the chair opposite to rest closer to her, taking a seat himself.

Her fingers were still trembling as she reached up and undid the top button at the back of her dress, but she hadn’t a clue whether they were trembling because of this or if they were simply leftovers from her fitful sleep.  It may have been both.  

“I don’t...need to take off my clothes completely, do I?”  She frowned in disgust at the thought. She hadn’t considered that part, but the Dunmer from before had been…well…half-naked.

“No,” He said, firmly.  “A shoulder is all that’s required.  Are you ready?”

She glanced at the filled glass.

“Do you always take a shot after you’ve already had a drink?” She joked weakly.

“The wine is for you, Elyssa.  I think you should drink at least a little of it when I’m done.  Now, are you prepared?”

Her hand reached up to pull down one of the shoulders of her dress, just enough so that her collarbone showed.  Her fists clenched and unclenched themselves as she rigidly held them in her lap.  If she were ever bitten by a vampire, this is what it would feel like….

Finally, she nodded.

A touch at her shoulder caused her to flinch again, but they were only fingers.  He was gently moving a strand of hair out of the way.

“Tell me.  I saw you speaking to Melina earlier and it caught my attention.  Did she find a particularly interesting rune?”

She brightened up a little at that.

“Oh!  Well not exactly; we were just talking about this one-ow.”

She was simultaneously a little irritated and a little grateful.  The skeever only asked her that as a distraction… and she actually fell for it.

Vampire fangs were apparently large enough that it felt a little like someone had just happily jabbed a pair of sewing needles into the tender part of her shoulder.  She’d had worse injuries before, but it wasn’t very pleasant either.

…And it was just a tad bit awkward.  For obvious reasons.    

Did the servants really do this on a regular basis?  

Just as she considered the pain, a wave of a new sensation came with it.  He was right; it did have the effect of making a person dizzy.  Dizzy and…a little hazy.  Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that she’d self-induced upon herself for the past couple of days, but she was actually starting to feel…calmer.

Numb.

After a few seconds had passed, it no longer hurt.  And she was no longer sitting up straight in the chair, but rather lounging.  The hard wood had suddenly felt a lot more comfy.

She could still feel him there.  It was hard to ignore his mouth (although she valiantly tried anyways, if only to make it a little less awkward), but she couldn’t really feel any blood actually going out of her (probably a blessing).  One of his hands helped to hold up her neck, and the other right at her upper arm to hold her steady.  It was just as well; the numbness had the effect of making her feel like a puddle of water.

She could also feel him pull away.  Replaced with the feeling of cloth at her shoulder.  Elyssa turned to look and found him softly pressing either a handkerchief or a napkin to the wound (for her sanity’s sake, she decided it was the former rather than the latter).

“That didn’t seem like much,” Her speech was a little slurred.

“Do you still wish to fight the bloodfiends while conscious? If so, then this is all you can afford to lose.  You already run the risk of injury on the battlefield.”

He motioned for her to hold the handkerchief there.  “It will stop bleeding in a moment.  How do you feel?”

“Rather nice…” She said with a slightly loopy smile.  But then she frowned. “Am I supposed to find it nice?”

“All vampires have some level of hypnotic ability.  Some use it to effect of creating slavish thralls.  Mostly, I suspect it’s there to ensure that any prey doesn’t try to escape our grasp.  For this reason, I think it tends to show up often in mortals who have been recently fed upon.”

Elyssa thought about Kallin and the almost eager way he introduced himself to her so soon after the Ravenwatch vampires had dined upon him.

“So…do you influence your servants to give you their blood?”

“I do not always willingly inflict this effect, Elyssa.  Think of it more as a side effect than something I always have a conscious command of.  Anyone I feed on could potentially feel like this.”

“But you have some control of your hypnotic ability, don’t you…?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.  Here.” He gestured for the handkerchief back and for her to fix her outfit.  

“If you’re implying that I somehow force or coerce my servants to give me their blood, the answer is ‘no’.  I made no such demands of them, nor would I need to.  There are plenty of people in Rivenspire of the unsavory variety; bandits, cutthroats, and the like for whom death would be deserving.   So it would be no trouble to us if Kallin should ever wish to seek employment elsewhere.  I would not stop him. Only ask that he keep the secret of our gifts to himself.  Not everyone in Rivenspire knows of our nature.”

She adjusted her dress back to normal after looking at the mark.  The wound had stopped bleeding; only two pinpricks of red against her skin to mark that anything had actually happened.

“I don’t oversee a prison here in my home.”  He said.

With it being so fresh in her mind, it was difficult to keep her thoughts away from her dream; the bleakness of Molag Bal’s domain and how it contrasted with the Count’s own castle.  In spite of the coffins (and questionable décor)….this was practically paradise compared to Coldharbour.

Then again…wasn’t anything paradise compared to that place?

“You should have a few sips of wine.” He said, interrupting her reverie.  

She nodded and took the glass, letting the liquid swirl within before bringing it to her lips.  It was a tad sweet, and something she must have needed because she took in a large gulp of it.

“The numbness is wearing off…” She said, contemplating the glass in her hand. “…And I have to face my dreams once more…I don’t want to go back to sleep and see Duchess Lakana again…”

“The Duchess of Alcaire…I understand that it was you who thwarted the Daedric plot behind her murder.”

“But I couldn’t save her!  She was so….she was so scared. And she said she was all alone there.  The soldiers wouldn’t even allow her to see most of the entourage that came for her from her father.  I said I would help her and then…then…”

She tried not to get too emotional by taking another large gulp of wine “…I should have stayed right next to her instead of running around…”

“We are all bound by our limitations, my child.  In your case, you cannot possibly be everywhere and save everyone all at once…”

“No.  But I could have made sure I brought her murderer to justice…”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table, balling her hands into fists again.

“…I let him go.  He looked so guilty…and his mind had been manipulated by Vaermina…I thought it was the right thing to do.  At least, that’s what I told myself at the time.”

Elyssa looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them, staring at them as though she’d hoped they would somehow provide a better thought process.

“Now I’m wondering if I was really right.  The Duke seemed a little bit angry at my decision…”

“He was likely grieving.”

“And the knight in question - the one who killed her? – he himself said that he felt guilty and deserved to die.”

“Those who feel guilt are not always guilty of anything.  And he, as a knight, was likely considering the strained political relations going on within the Covenant.  His duty to preserve the alliance may have weighed heavily on him to the point where he thought sacrificing his life should be a consideration.”

“But he seemed so…I don’t know.  He was acting so normal when I met him; when he supposedly was under Vaermina’s sway.  I have to wonder if he didn’t secretly want the Duchess to die after all…”

“Now you’re being a bit unfair.”

“But…He could have resisted.”  She said, finally.  “He must have been able to resist.  He should have tried.  He was acting so normal most of the time that he had to have some control of his senses. If he had put a little effort into fighting back, maybe she wouldn’t be dead.  Maybe I would have been able to stop him.  Or maybe I wouldn’t have even had to stop him.  If only he’d considered alternatives…He could have just kidnapped her instead, but no.  She just had to die!  He should have been punished for that...He should have died, and I should ha—“

His hand was at her shoulder again, and that numb feeling came back with such a vengeance that she had instantly slumped back into the chair.  Her anxiety laced rambling put to a halt with a slack jaw.

Her breathing steadied.  Her eyelids drooped.  Every muscle in her body had completely and utterly given in to a state of soothing relaxation.  

“Stand up, Elyssa,” he commanded.

A floating, freeing feeling washed over her as she did as she was told.  The room had gotten brighter, the hallway lighting almost dancing in front of her eyes.

“Come with me upstairs,” he commanded again.

And she felt compelled….no, she felt like it was wonderful to move forward.  He followed behind and caught her by her arms to direct her around the dining room table.

They walked, slow and steady.  Elyssa was sure that if she hadn’t been held by the mer behind her that she’d fall flat on her face.  The numbness took all anxiety away….to be replaced completely with contentment and a calm sort of happiness…It was the most relieving feeling in the world.  

“Molag Bal,” He said, “Would certainly love to have you convinced that weakness is a sin.  That people with weaker wills, much like the knight you speak of, deserve to be punished and tortured.”

They began to ascend the stairs, and Elyssa swayed a bit.  She had been trying her best to focus on walking, but the comforting numbness was making her a bit sleepy.  Besides, her feet and legs appeared to find themselves all on their own, without any effort on her part.

In the back of her mind, there was some measure of concern that something was wrong here.  But any attempt at trying to grasp what exactly was amiss slipped right out of her thoughts.  

“But we all have our weaknesses, Elyssa,” Count Verandis continued.  “There is not a person in all of Tamriel who is devoid of them.  For me, it is the sun.  For you?  Right now, it is your generous acceptance of others who are different than you; the trust that you easily form with strangers in spite of how unusual they may be or, in this case, whether or not they are a vampire.  Acceptance and compassion are very much virtues to be exalted, but in the hands of the wrong people they can become weaknesses to be utilized against you.”

They reached the top of the stairs and made their way into the guest parlor.  Each step forwards made her feel like a leaf on the wind; dancing across the floor as though her body was lighter than air.  The furniture danced alongside her, swimming in her vision.  She heard every word that he said (in fact, it held the bulk of her attention, as if she couldn’t ignore him even if she tried), but finding a response was difficult as she couldn’t formulate the thoughts to say anything.      

“I am grateful for your trust, Elyssa.  Far too many have unfairly scorned or judged us for our condition without ever trying to become acquainted with who we are as people.”

He stopped her just as they reached the table.  She frowned with disappointment; she wanted to keep moving around.  It felt nice.  

“However, imagine for a moment,” He whispered lower, closer to her ear. “How disastrous this would be if I had a more destructive desire.  What would happen if we had met on a dark, lonely night and I had no code of conduct to dictate my thirst?  I would beckon you, entrap you just like this.  How easily you would come to me, following me out of sight of any living person who might help you. Can you imagine what I would do then with such a feast all to myself?  This feeling, this enthrallment, would be the last sensation you ever felt; helpless to do anything as I gorged myself on your life’s blood.”

Fingers appeared at her throat, ever so gently pressed against her skin, against the pulse beating there.  And almost automatically, she found she had lifted her chin even more to better allow them.  She felt a tinge of fear break through the numbness; fear of the mer at her back, at the way her own body rebelled against her wishes to expose her own throat… and a growing, frightening consideration at the back of her mind that he might, just might, take the offer.  In spite of whatever he may have said about their feeding habits before.  

“Tell me,” He said, “Many members of my kind would insist that they have the right to feast on mortals because their prey is weaker than them. Would it be just and proper for me to rip your throat out all because you are powerless right now?  Do I have the right to murder you just because I can?  Because I’m stronger?”

A small bubble of panic managed to sober her up enough to try and wiggle free.  But the movement was half-hearted; she still did not feel like she had complete command of her body.  Even though he did not hold her very firmly, her little movements seemed insufficient to loosen his grasp.  Attempting to maneuver limbs felt like trying to wade through dense tar. And as the words died in her throat before they had the chance to pass her lips, she was met with the horrific realization that she was trapped at his whim without so much as the ability to scream.  

She had never been so terrified of him before that moment.

He removed his hand from her throat to grasp both arms in an attempt to hold her steady; her struggling had given her an awfully dangerous sway that threatened to cause her to hit the table.  Or the floor.  Whichever unfortunate hard surface she reached first.

“It’s all right, Elyssa.” He said, his voice kinder. “I give you my word; your life is safe within my home and among myself and my household.  I’ll release you very soon, I promise.  Relax now, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

As if that was also command, a new, fresh wave of numbness and calm settled in, and she felt too exhausted from her last struggle to resist it.  It took over once again, and the world went fuzzy.

“Sit down,” he commanded, releasing his grip on her arms to pull out a chair. And she obeyed, taking the offered seat.

He went to stand before her with crossed arms.  They remained like that for several minutes before she began to notice that she had feeling back in her legs.  The calm was dying down.  Her fingers could twitch at her will.  Her arms now moved unimpeded.  And with her newly re-acquired control of herself, she immediately proceeded to do the thing she wanted to do the most:

Look up and glare at him.

(Punching him was actually the first option, but she was tired and felt that it required more effort than she thought he deserved)

“How are you feeling?” He asked, unphased by her expression.

“Pretty pissed.”

“As well you should be.  But recognize that it is my fault for exerting my power over you.  It is not your fault that you hadn’t the strength to resist back.  You can’t hold yourself responsible for my actions or the actions of any others…Just as you should not hold other people responsible for the actions of Vaermina.”

Her glare lessened as she contemplated this.  “Do you…suppose that was a taste of what Sir Hughes felt?  The same sort of influence he may have been under?”

“I cannot guess what sort of Daedric magic Vaermina used, but I can almost surely guarantee it was potent.”

She was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. So she looked down to fiddle with her fingers.

His demonstration made an impression.

“Never doubt that you made the right choice to spare that knight’s life,” He said, softly.  “He was not a cultist, nor did he willingly implore Vaermina for any of this; she forced her influence upon him by taking advantage of the little bits of doubt that we all experience when it comes to change in our lives. No mortal deserves death all because they were weaker than a Daedric Prince.  If we should go by this logic, then all but a potential handful should be summarily executed right here and now.”

“…Yeah.”  Elyssa sighed, avoiding his gaze. “I think a part of me realizes that.  That I don’t actually blame Sir Hughes, I just…”

“…You still feel a little guilty because you happened to be there.  And you’re desperately trying to look for an excuse to assuage that guilt.”

“Yeah,” She winced to hear it aloud, but he had put it very succinctly.

“Her death wasn’t your fault, Elyssa. You cannot hope to control what a Daedric Prince decides to do; you can only hope to try and stop them.  Even then, such foes are so formidable that it isn’t a guarantee that you will be successful.”

He leaned against the table. “I would consider it impressive that you were even able to save the poor soul manipulated by Vaermina.  He may be punished in exile, but that is a far better, far more appropriate fate than what the Daedric Prince of Nightmares had in store for him, I can promise you that.  I don’t think I need to remind you that Daedra often treat mortals as toys, and are known to mercilessly toss aside those that have passed their usefulness.”

“I guess…” She sighed again, gaze transfixed to the floor in front of him.  But then she remembered what had just happened, and she snapped her head back up to glare at him. “I’m still angry at you, though.”

“And I apologize that I frightened you.  I do regret that.  Make no mistake, it is wrong to affect people’s minds in such a way, and I apologize for that as well.  But I thought it would give you some perspective as to what it feels like to be influenced in such a manner.  At the very least, I would hope that it proved to you how difficult it is to escape.”

“How do you escape?”  She had a terrible thought pass through her head about having to face a much more sinister vampire who would use this technique.

“Different strains of vampirism, different capabilities.  But in this particular case, there were several factors working against you.”

He gestured to her.

“First, you had allowed me to feed off of you, which, I believe, actually helps with this.  Second, you trusted me.  At least, enough to stay the night without any discernible fear for your own safety.  I was able to take advantage of that to exert a much more potent sway.  If you recall, you had regained some ability to fight back the moment I lost that trust and started to frighten you.  Unfortunately, you had, by that point, been under my control for a bit too long that it was difficult to break through.”

“So…Feeding, length of time, and trust.  Did I get that correct?”

“For my particular type of vampirism, yes.  You’ll likely meet many others whose abilities operate under a different set of rules.  It does, however, take no small amount of effort to inflict such hypnotic influence, so it is doubtful that you’ll meet very many opponents who would consider using it against you in the heat of battle.”

She nodded.  “That’s comforting a bit…I think.”

Silence settled over them.

This time, it was Verandis who sighed.

“I cannot speak for the Duchess,” he said, “But I am quite familiar with both the High King and his brother, the Duke of Alcaire.  And I can assure you that neither of them would want you to be this distraught over Duchess Lakana’s death.  Especially not to the point where it is affecting your sleep.”

“Yeah, about that.  I still really don’t want to close my eyes.  So do you have anything you need that I can help with?”

“Blood loss and exhaustion doesn’t strike me as a particularly brilliant plan for fighting off blood fiends.”

“I can’t.”  Elyssa stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep the twitching of her mouth from grimacing too much, “I really, really can’t do this.  I can’t go back to sleep right now; it’s just going to be the same nightmare again.  Like it was yesterday.  And the night before that.”

He stared back at her without comment at first, but eventually uncrossed his arms to head towards his alchemical table in the corner.

“How about,” He said, “I brew you a sleeping draught.”

“But—“

“You needn’t drink it if you don’t want to.  But I’ll leave it here with you, just in case.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Is this going to be like the last potion you made for me, where I wandered about in your memories?”

“No memories.  Just a typical sleeping potion.”

Her nose rankled at the undesirable scents and burning smells that were already coming from the station as he worked.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I didn’t really mind stepping into your past.  It was kind of fun being someone else, actually.  Just not sure I’d want to do it on a regular basis, because it was also kind of disorienting.”

“Considering everything you’ve told me, I believe we shouldn’t have a repeat of that.  I’m already beginning to regret what little I’ve shown you; I think you have enough worries without me adding more of my own to your pile.”

She could hear sounds of him pouring liquid into a container, and soon enough he approached her with a bottle of something blood red.

He held it out for her and she reached for it, but his grip held fast.

“Please look at me, Elyssa.”

Her blue eyes looked up to find contemplative red.

“Never let Molag Bal win by accepting his ideology,” He said, resolve in his expression. “Believe me when I say, he would cherish such a submission from you.  Weakness is not a sin…and the powerful should always strive to protect, not abuse.  Remember that.”

She nodded slowly in response to the seriousness in his words, and he released the bottle to her grasp.

“….Vampires fall under the realm of Molag Bal, don’t they?” She asked, holding tight to the vial, “To the point where I even heard that Coldharbour is where their souls go when they die.  Is that one of the many reasons why you have an honor code?  Not just to be a good person, but to fight back against him, even if a little bit?”

The flickers of a very sad smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

“…Have a good night, Elyssa.  May your dreams bring you a much-needed and well-deserved rest.”

And with that, he left her to go back downstairs.

She stared at him as he went.  And stared at the potion he left her when he was gone.

After crawling back to the bed, she pulled out the stopper to take a little sniff of the concoction.  It smelled awful, like most potions do.  And she winced as she pulled back to take a tiny taste of it.

Fortunately, the taste wasn’t half as bad as some of the magicka brews she’d had before; this one only had a faint note of rotting eggs and cabbage, instead of an overt one.  That was an improvement.  

After much staring and much consideration, she held her nose and downed the rest of it in one swallow, smacking her lips with a sour expression as she finished.

But the taste lingered, and soon enough she crept out of bed to go back to the parlor. Rustling through the pantry next to the alchemical vials was a bottle of unopened wine.  She silently gave a prayer of thanks to the Divines that bottles of wine were so readily available in a house full of vampires just as she popped out the cork and took a long swing of it to try to drown out the disgusting rotten eggs.

With the taste gone and her thirst satiated, she made her way back to the bedroom.  A wave of dizziness and exhaustion had quickly crept up on her, and she mumbled her discontent under her breath; apparently it was a very, very potent sleeping potion.

Just before she came upon the bed, all the furniture in the room performed perfect backflips.

Her whole world spun around…

…And faded to black.