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Chapter Text

Elisif felt her lungs rip through her throat as a cry streaked across her lips. Her knees buckled, and hands gripped her arms, but she knew nothing except the gory-tendrilled form of what moments before was her husband. Even as Torygg’s challenger roared over his victory, Elisif couldn’t muster another breath. Her body closed in on itself, all of its parts collapsing around her heart to muffle the pain. But no amount of bodily focus or isolation could fill this void torn in her flesh. The man she loved and knew and who loved and knew her was obsolete. Mind and body, obsolete. And with his eradication went a half of her whole, a piece of her existence, a fragment of her life. And she thought this was a taste of death in its purest form.

The next few weeks wallowed by in a milky gray haze. Elisif rarely left her room and mainly persisted in a grief and drug induced trance. Sybille concocted various potions to dull her pain and bring her rest. But in the dregs of those little vials, Elisif found only temporary physical relief, absolute numbness and days of waking sleep. In her pinprick moments of clarity she began to break the surface of her cloudy existence only to realize the pain of living once more and recede again to the depths. 

During one late evening of painful clarity, Sybille entered her chamber along with the housecarl Bolgeir and Falk. Elisif turned from her place at the window to confront the group. Never had they all intruded on her at once in this way. Elisif needed not use any words to express her displeasure; she simply assessed the group with doleful eyes and pained features.

“Elisif.” It was Falk who first spoke up. His voice was low and tender and unexpressed sympathy riddled his kind face. 

“We have been running the hold to the best of our abilities for the last few weeks,” he began quietly. “But Solitude needs her leader. The title of Jarl now rests on your head.”

Elisif swallowed a hard knot down her throat.

“You needn’t let your level of aptitude for the position deter you. We will help you every step of the way,” he continued. “Now more than ever the people need a leader to whom to look. They need you .”

Elisif may not have been an experienced politician, but neither was she a fool. She detested these manipulative games of semantics that members of the court so often employed—even her husband’s most trusted advisor Falk. 

“Your grace, I have made arrange—,” Bolgeir began.

“Your grace?” Elisif interrupted him quietly under her breath. She commanded the group’s complete attention with her words as they had been few and far between these last few weeks.

“Your grace?” she repeated louder. “ That was my husband’s title. That was his position, not mine. That was his legacy and his livelihood, his pride. That was him!”

Elisif felt sorrow rising like a tide in her veins, her limbs suddenly leaden, and she gripped a bed post for support.

“That was him and now he’s gone,” she breathed shakily. “And a part of me with him. Think me weak, but I don’t believe I can go on. All of my will and passion died with him.”

Elisif’s legs weakened and she collapsed to the bed, sobs constricting her throat.

“Sirs, allow us a moment alone” Elisif heard Sybille’s silky voice whisper just before the door to her chamber shuddered shut.

Sybille knelt on the rug before Elisif, removing her hood as she did to reveal her rolling, silvery tresses. But although Sybille’s hair seemed to shimmer with the color of an old woman, her beautiful features maintained the youth of one not much older than Elisif herself. Clasping Elisif’s hands in her own, Sybille caught Elisif’s eyes too with her own amber ones. For a moment Sybille simply held Elisif’s pained gaze. When Elisif’s gaze finally fell, Sybille reached a tender hand to Elisif’s jaw, directing her face back to Sybille’s.

“I know you think no one understands what you are experiencing,” Sybille began gently, “that it’s too overwhelming to continue. But you’re wrong.”

“You’ve lost your spouse as well?” Elisif questioned openly.

“My spouse, my family, my friends,” Sybille replied slowly. “Everyone I’ve ever loved.”

“Sybille…”

“You know I have served the High King and his court for many generations,” Sybille began. “But... as I am a vampire, I have lived for centuries.”

Elisif stared at the wizard in shock.

“I have watched every person I’ve ever loved either meet their violent end or wither away until they were unrecognizable. Even with all my power, in the end I was powerless. I couldn’t save even one from their mortal fate,” Sybille lamented earnestly. “And yet I have persevered through time and refused to give in to despair. Just as you will do.”

Elisif silently struggled to process everything Sybille had told her. Elisif’s first instinct was disbelief that the royals had knowingly harbored a vampire in their midst.

“Did Torygg know?” Elisif asked.

“Yes, and so did Istlod,” Sybille replied.

Elisif’s second instinct was sorrow for the vast suffering and grief Sybille had faced in her lifetime. The lives and relationships that had been ripped from her were much more numerous than that of Elisif’s one devastating loss of her husband. How Sybille still chose life baffled Elisif.

“Sybille, thank you for confiding in me,” Elisif said. “I cherish your every word and commit all you’ve told me to heart.”

“You can repay me by refusing your husband’s death as your end,” Sybille replied. “Yes, with him died a piece of you, but there is also so much still waiting for you in this world. Don’t give it up now.”

Elisif contemplated Sybille’s words, tightening her grip on Sybille’s hands as tears sprang to her eyes. 

“Elisif, someday this pain will dull within yourself, but for now, sleep without the pain,” Sybille breathed as she pulled a vial from a pouch at her hip.

As Elisif swallowed the sedative, Sybille said, “Tomorrow you and I are taking a short journey. You need refreshment before assuming your position, and I have in mind an experience…”

Elisif slipped under the sheets and drifted into dreamless, emotionless sleep to the calming flow of Sybille’s richly toned words, for the first time in weeks a pinprick of light interrupting her omnipresent darkness.

For the first time in years Elisif rode along the open Skyrim road with no company of guards swarming her, no advisors nagging her, and no pompous courtiers haranguing her. Her only company was Sybille and their two horses. Early that morning Sybille had entered Elisif’s chambers telling her to pack lightly and to wear her plainest traveling clothes; they would not be traveling as Elisif and Sybille, Jarl and wizard, but as Astrid and Clarke, sisters paying tribute to their recently deceased father at the shrine of Arkay. 

“And bring Torygg’s horn,” Sybille had added. “We’re actually making a trip to the shrine of Talos.”

Elisif’s heart had skipped a beat. She personally didn’t worship Talos, but Torygg had and she had secretly been waiting to entrust someone with the task of delivering his war horn to the shrine. But how had Sybille known? Elisif had dismissed her confusion, attributing it to the notion that as a vampire had been hiding in plain sight for decades, nothing should surprise her now.

So Sybille and Elisif had arranged to be absent from court no longer than a week and agreed that upon their return, Elisif would undertake her position as Jarl immediately. Falk had reluctantly agreed and retreated humbly with an intimidating glare from Sybille.

Tapping her heels into her horse’s flanks, Elisif trotted up alongside Sybille.

“Who knows?” Elisif questioned frankly, pulling her fur hood around her face as a chill breeze licked around her body.

Sybille tugged her own hood down over her face as the cold sun peeked from behind a cloud. 

“No one except for you now,” Sybille answered. “Some attribute my habits to oddity or magic, but none to vampirism.”

“How did it happen?”

“Elisif, it’s been a very long time since I’ve discussed my condition with anyone,” Sybille began tersely. “I’d prefer we leave this conversation for another time.”

Elisif nodded silently, directing her attention to the road ahead. Bright sunbeams streaked through the clouds once more and Elisif heard Sybille catch her breath.

“Damn this sun,” Sybille breathed. 

“Let’s stop in Dragon Bridge. We can wait until nightfall,” Elisif suggested.

“Yes, I’d thought of that,” Sybille mused. “But it will be an inconvenience to you.”

“If you could just give me one of the sleeping elixirs, I’ll rest until evening and then we can be on our way,” Elisif concluded. 

Sybille and Elisif agreed on this plan and reached Dragon Bridge without any event. The two bought a couple rooms in the Four Shields Tavern, warding off small talk from the innkeeper and interested patrons. With the help of one of Sybille’s sleeping potions, Elisif drifted quite soundly into her first sleep on a straw bed.

Elisif woke to a gentle shake from Sybille, and after eating some food from the inn, the two were soon on the road again, crossing the formidable stone bridge for which the town was named. Elisif stifled a yawn as they reached the opposite side of the ravine while she glanced up at the moon, nearly full and brightly glowing down on the earth. As they traveled, Elisif admired the gray-tinted moonlit world. Silvery light illuminated the leaves as they fluttered against their branches. The cobblestones shone with the white moonlight, nearly like day. The highlights struck Elisif’s eyes like a new color, but the shadows, inky black, threatened to consume her mind dare she let it wander close to them. It wasn’t often that she experienced the outside world in this way. She felt like she was a foreigner in a strange land. This wasn’t the land she knew, but it certainly didn’t lack beauty. The glow-washed expanses instilled a terrifying thrill, the shadows, a startling foreboding. Something about the quiet hours hushing over the world brought an exhilarating new sense of existence.

“It’s beautiful,” Elisif whispered after a few hours of admiring her surroundings and riding in tired silence. 

“Indeed,” Sybille replied. “But like every true beauty, it has its flaws.”

“Hm,” Elisif hummed, eager to uncover Sybille’s meaning, but holding her tongue in respect for the reserved vampire.

As the horses hadn’t slept during the day like Sybille and Elisif had, their natural cycle began to wear on their exhaustion, and as the early hours of the morning dawned, they were forced to stop in the interest of the animals. 

“We’ll reach Rorikstead tomorrow, but for tonight, let’s give the beasts rest,” Sybille suggested. 

The women found a flat spot of ground a little way off the road and began to set up camp. Sybille gathered what small sticks she could find to start a fire, and Elisif trudged off through the woods in search of larger logs. When she was out of sight of Sybille, Elisif reveled in the fear and ecstasy of the solitude in the midnight woods. She closed her eyes and listened. She heard the millions of leaves rustling against each other. She heard the multitudes of insects chirping in harmony. She heard a twig snap. She opened her eyes. 

But before she could cry for Sybille or even look around, hands grabbed her arms and a meaty palm clamped over her mouth. 

“Hold her against that tree,” a man’s raspy voice whispered as he approached her from the mottled forest shadows. 

She couldn’t see the two men holding her back, but as the approaching man tugged his hood from his head, she could just make out his bulky form, his closely shaven scalp and short ruddy beard.

“You,” he growled, driving his finger into Elisif’s chest, “are trespassing on my land.”

Elisif swallowed hard and struggled to breathe against the constricting palm.

“You know what happens to trespassers?” One man holding her arm whispered in her ear. 

The bearded man chuckled as he lifted Elisif’s skirt, gripping her legs and forcing them open with his rough hands. 

Elisif tried to scream, only muffled sounds escaping from the palm over her mouth. She struggled against the hands and arms forcing her back against the tree, and she bucked her hips as the man approaching her drew himself in between her legs. Tears sprung to her eyes as fear gripped her chest. Her breathing became labored as she fought for more air but struggled against the palm over her mouth. Her lungs began screaming and burning for a breath, but she couldn’t draw enough in and quickly her vision started darkening and fading.

“She can’t breathe, idiot,” the man said, gripping the hand over her face.

“We’re gonna let you breathe a minute, but I swear to Stendarr if you make a noise, you will regret it,” the man before her whispered threateningly.

The palm slid away from her mouth and she took huge breaths of fresh air, trying to alleviate her fear. She needed Sybille. 

“Oh, we got a pretty one, lads,” he chuckled, gripping Elisif’s jaw and turning her face. “Maybe I’ll even share.”

His hands wandered away from her face and down her body, and Elisif took her chance.

“Sybille!” Elisif yelled as loud as she could. 

Almost immediately a fist drove across her cheek and pain blossomed in her head as the hands gripping her slammed her back against the tree. Dazed Elisif felt the hands release her and another angry grip threw her to the ground. A boot dug into her ribs, and she curled in on herself to protect her body from more blows. But the man with the shaved head gripped her shoulders and smashed them against the ground, knocking out her breath as he forced her legs down and began digging an arm under her skirt.

Suddenly Elisif saw a figure dart from the trees and one of the men slammed to the ground, Sybille kneeling over his chest as her dagger protruded from it. The other man was still searching for the strange new figure’s origin when Sybille jumped on his back and slit his throat. 

Just as quick as the killing started, it was over, and Sybille gripped the man kneeling over Elisif by his hood, easily pulling him off Elisif. 

“My mistress is not to be played with, dog,” she spat. “But you… you will make a nice little toy.”

With inhuman strength she flung him against a tree and Elisif heard something snap as the man groaned. Sybille stalked over to him, crouching by his slumped form.

“What a sick pig you are,” she hissed.

Suddenly she dug her teeth into the man’s neck. Immediately the man screamed, but soon his body became limp as Sybille drained his blood. As Elisif writhed on the ground struggling to regain her breath, Sybille drew away from the man, her lips stained with blood while she walked back and knelt by Elisif.

“Where are you hurt?” Sybille asked directly.

“Ribs,” Elisif gasped. “Right side.”

“Alright,” Sybille breathed, her hands glowing with yellow light. The golden rays swirled around Elisif’s torso, but as they did Elisif felt her muscles and bones shifting where Sybille was healing them. She cried out as her body contorted away from the pain, her yell dissolving into whimpered sobs.

“It’s over. It’s over,” Sybille comforted her, reaching towards Elisif. But Elisif scrambled back in fear. Blood trickled down Sybille’s chin and her teeth were soaked with crimson.

Sybille’s expression fell and understanding confronted her. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, spitting the excess blood on the ground.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, but I needed to feed,” Sybille explained. “I haven’t eaten in a while.”

Sybille’s explanation couldn’t remove the memory from Elisif’s mind, though. Elisif was repulsed by the sight of Sybille draining a man’s life for her own sustenance, even if that man had attacked Elisif. It was unnatural and inhuman. And it scared Elisif. She’d heard of vampires’ habits, but nothing could have prepared her for the act itself. The power Sybille had displayed intimidated Elisif, and the predation she had demonstrated had terrified her. Sybille was a hunter, a powerful predator. And Elisif was the prey.

“You’re scared,” Sybille concluded. “Let’s just get back to camp.”

Sybille offered Elisif her hand, but like a stubborn child, Elisif pulled herself up, refusing Sybille’s touch. Sybille turned away nonchalantly and led the way back through the woods to their campfire and tents. They sat in silence by the fire, Elisif stealing sidelong glances at the vampire.

“127 years ago,” Sybille finally said. “That’s when it happened.”

Elisif wrapped her arms around her knees, looking up at Sybille and devoting her attention to the Breton.

“I was only twenty-eight, just a harmless alchemist,” Sybille began. “I was in the countryside gathering ingredients one day when a group of hooded figures grabbed me and dragged me into a cave. They restrained me and cast their draining spells on me and I contracted Sanguinare Vampiris. For three days they held me there. For three days they refused to feed me as the sickness ate away at me, and they watched me deteriorate. Never before or since have I experienced something so horrific. I truly thought I was dying.”

Elisif heard Sybille’s voice tighten in anger. 

“I didn’t stand a chance,” she rasped. “On the third day something changed. My senses were different. My skin was different. My abilities were different.”

Sybille held out her palms, gesturing to her own body. 

“And I was hungry ,” Sybille breathed. “I had gone days without food before, but this was different. I didn’t want bread and meat and vegetables. I wanted something else. Something I couldn’t quite identify but realized the moment I lay eyes on it. Or rather him. They held me in that confinement for another week without any food, and by the time it happened, I was a complete animal, a beast. The first man they placed before me was no older than I. He cried in terror for me to stop, but I couldn’t. After what they did to me in that week, my body wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop. Then an old woman. She screamed too. But it didn’t matter.”

Sybille’s voice shook slightly as she stared at the flames. 

“Then a young girl,” she whispered. “Very young. Maybe eleven or twelve. She was crying before I even looked at her. Begging for her parents. Begging for them to let her go. Begging for me to stop as I crawled towards her like an animal.”

Sybille's voice hitched and her words stumbled.

“I didn’t stop though,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t stop myself. They laughed as it happened. They applauded me afterwards. But after I slept off my sickness and realized what I’d done, I couldn’t live with myself. And I blamed them for making me the way I am. I killed them all as they slept. And I don’t regret it.”

Elisif dropped her gaze as Sybille met it.

“I never joined another clan. I hated what I had become and I wanted to ignore the fact that anything had changed,” Sybille admitted. “I’ve come to terms with it now of course, but at the beginning I simply refused to acknowledge what had happened. I drank animal blood which satisfied me for a time until I began to feel its effects on my body: my skin deteriorating, my muscles shrinking, my hair thinning. And I knew that I needed something more to stay alive. I began to prey on the dying, even the freshly dead. And that worked for a time, but after a while I began to realize the negative consequences of a poor diet on my body again. Before the change, I had been able to perform some spells, but as a vampire I found that I had an affinity for magic like never before. I could learn new spells and cast them more easily than ever, and so I studied and grew my powers. With these new powers came the solution to my problem. Since I could fight for myself, I found there was plenty of healthy blood waiting to be harvested from the bodies of those who didn’t deserve to live: bandits, murderers, and thieves. So I began clearing the land. I single-handedly ransacked entire bandit hideouts and stalked hitmen in the night even as they stalked their own targets. Somehow Istlod’s court caught wind of my endeavors and a platoon of his soldiers managed to encircle me while I was fighting a clan of bandits. Istlod himself made the offer for me to act as his court wizard. And while of course I couldn’t very well decline the high king, I also genuinely anticipated the position and the opportunities it entailed. So I accepted his offer. I worked for years under him before I found the courage and opportunity to inform him of my true nature. But when I did, he only laughed and said that it explained why I hated the sun so much.”

Sybille sighed, folding her arms over her chest.

“He was a fair king and a good man, but unfortunately just like everyone else I had known before, I had to watch him age and pass away while I remained the same,” Sybille said. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, but I hope you may begin to understand.”

Elisif simply hummed a response, staring blankly into the fire as she processed everything Sybille had told her.

“I… Thank you,” Elisif mumbled as she stood, dusting off her skirts. “For saving my life and telling me this. I need to rest and think. Wake me when we should leave tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

The next day Elisif and Sybille started late and trekked in relative silence, talking only to discuss their traveling plans. They reached Riverwood by dusk, eating a short meal at the Sleeping Giant Inn before continuing on to Whiterun.

As they approached the city Sybille broke their silence.

“This is a big city and we might be recognized, so just try to keep a low profile. And don’t forget my name is Clarke Bellathorn and your name is Astrid Bellathorn, and we’re traveling to honor our father at Arkay’s Shrine.”

Elisif responded with a muffled hum.

“Elisif, I need to know what you’re thinking,” Sybille urged. “Tell me.”

Elisif hesitated before answering.

“I want you to know that I’m grateful for all that you’ve done for my husband and me. Truly. And I think I’m beginning to understand the sacrifices you make. But I don’t want to sanction you in my court if you feed off innocents.”

“Elisif, the man last night was hardly innocent,” Sybille responded.

“How do you normally feed?” she asked bluntly. “In Solitude.”

“Prisoners,” Sybille answered quietly. “Istlod and Torygg allowed it as long as I altered their memory afterwards, and I hoped you would be willing to allow the same.”

“There’s no better way?” Elisif replied.

“Your husband’s father and I contemplated the dilemma because at that point I still ventured out to feed off bandits. He wanted me present in court more often, so I told him I needed a food source closer to the palace, and this was our solution.”

Elisif deliberated thoughtfully.

“Well, I suppose if Torygg thought it best, then that’s what I’ll uphold,” Elisif responded. “I want to honor him, and I want what’s best for you. And although it doesn’t sit well with me, it seems this plan is best. I haven’t assumed my position yet, but you unofficially have my permission.”

“Thank you, Elisif,” Sybille replied with a grin. “Though, I suppose your permission would be unofficial anyways seeing as a Jarl’s decrees don’t typically include a court vampire.”

Elisif chuckled quietly.

“I guess you’re right, then,” Elisif said, smiling as she met the vampire’s amber eyes for the first time since the night before.

“The color of your eyes holds new meaning for me now,” Elisif mused. “I think they’re beautiful, but they are very strange.”

“There’s no need for flattery among friends, Elisif,” Sybille responded. “I know they’re disturbing and inhuman.”

“Sybille, it wasn’t flattery,” Elisif said. “I really do think they’re beautiful. Peculiar and fierce but undeniably alluring.”

“Well, thank you,” Sybille replied. “I don’t know the reason for them, quite honestly. For a vampire who’s lived as long as I have, I know surprisingly little about my own condition. I suppose because I’ve chosen not to partake in the culture of the thing, but all the same I sometimes wish I knew more about what I’ve become.”

“I’m sure there are other vampires out there like you,” Elisif proposed. 

“Perhaps. But for now I am quite content with my present company,” Sybille said with a warm smile towards Elisif.

“As am I,” Elisif replied, returning the gesture.

As the two reached Whiterun, they roused the unfortunate stable boy from his sleep and stabled their horses before trekking up the path to the main gate.

“Elisif, let me fix that bruising on your cheek,” Sybille whispered. “I’d rather not have to fabricate a story for that.”

“Oh, you don’t want to heal it simply to ease my pain?” Elisif asked incredulously, a joking grin on her lips.

“You know what I mean, you brassy little invalid,” Sybille responded, a smirk playing at her mouth as she playfully grabbed Elisif’s collar, pulling the woman just a breath away from her own face. Raising a hand to Elisif’s cheek, Sybille let her fingers brush the woman’s skin as golden light flowed from Sybille’s palm. Elisif closed her eyes and hummed as the magic worked, only opening them again as the light died and Sybille rested her hand on Elisif’s healed cheek.

“There,” Sybille breathed.

“Thank you,” Elisif whispered. “You’ll have to teach me some of that so I’m not a complete invalid without you.”

“Hm, perhaps I will,” Sybille replied. “Then again I do like having your complete dependence on me. You know, I like the control .”

Sybille sneered teasingly into Elisif’s face, and Elisif huffed disdainfully.

“Who’s the Jarl again?” Elisif queried sarcastically.

“Neither of us,” Sybille replied. “You’re Astrid and I’m Clarke. Now let’s get into the city before the sun rises and I turn to dust.”

Elisif snickered as they continued up the pathway.

“Would that really happen?” she asked.

“No, not really,” Sybille replied. “It’s more of an energy drain. It makes me so fatigued that if you left me out long enough, I’d probably just pass out and waste away.”

“Oh,” Elisif breathed, disturbed by the thought of Sybille rotting away in the sunlight.

“Don’t worry. It’s not going to happen,” Sybille said through a laugh, sensing Elisif’s discomfort.

“Good evening, ladies,” one of the guards greeted the two women as they approached. “From where are you two traveling tonight?”

“We came up through Riverwood, sir,” Sybille answered. “On our way to the Shrine of Arkay.”

“Ah, well I’m sorry for your loss,” the guard said. “I’m sure Andurs, our resident priest of Arkay, will help with any questions you may have. He’s usually around the Hall of the Dead in the northern part of the city, the Cloud District. Of course, he’s probably sleeping now, but check with him tomorrow.”

“Yes, it is late,” the other guard without a helmet piped up. His hair was short but was tousled and tangled in every direction, and his scraggly beard barely covered his jaw. “It’s very late for two women to be out alone like this. Dangerous, I’d say. Why aren’t you two traveling in the daytime?”

“Our father recently died, and we’re trying to reach the shrine as quickly as possible in order to give his spirit rest,” Sybille replied without hesitation. “We thought about staying in Riverwood a few hours ago, but we’d much rather stay in Whiterun where we knew the beds are warmer, the drinks are stronger, and the men are…well—”

Sybille looked the helmetless guard up and down gratuitously with a soft smirk.

“You know,” she breathed sultrily.

The guard grinned and chuckled.

“On the beds and drinks I can agree,” he said. “But the quality of the third item you’ll just have to investigate yourself.”

The helmeted guard sighed in impatience.

“You’re free to go,” he groaned. “Just don’t cause any trouble while you’re here and we won’t have any issues.”

“Thank you and goodnight, sirs,” Sybille responded with a wink towards the unhelmeted guard as the two women walked through the gate.

“Sybille, what are you doing?” Elisif whispered harshly as the gate closed behind them.

“Well, I was getting us out of a spot of trouble when he started asking questions,” Sybille began. “But then I got a little carried away. You know they’re just so easy to manipulate. It’s quite amusing.”

“He’s a guard here. He lives here,” Elisif warned. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t drop in on us for a visit sometime hoping to get you to try out that ‘third item.’” 

“Oh, Elisif, lighten up,” Sybille jested. “Let’s get some drinks in you. That’ll solve your problem.”

The women walked down the empty main thoroughfare and up the steps of the Bannered Mare. Both were equally surprised to find the place bustling with patrons from farmhands to mercenaries. 

“Oh,” Elisif breathed in quiet astonishment.

“Yes,” Sybille agreed. “Just remember. Astrid. Clarke. Arkay.”

“Right,” Elisif sighed.

They walked up to the counter, managing to catch the busy bartender in between frantic dashes.

“Do you have any rooms?” Sybille asked over the tavern din.

“Oh, lass, I’m full up,” the tired woman responded. “Busy night tonight. Check down at the Drunken Huntsman. I think Nazeem and his wife are out of town, so they might have a room. You should check there. I’m sorry, miss!”

The innkeeper shouted to them over her shoulder as she carried drinks into the crowd around the fire pit.

“Well, let’s go,” Sybille sighed, walking back towards the door.

Elisif stumbled after Sybille down the street, exhausted and wanting nothing more than a rest and a drink. At this hour everyone was in doors except for the guards. And a tall, red-headed Nord woman stalking in from Whiterun’s front gate. Elisif thought nothing of the woman until she passed directly by them, her pale eyes locked on Sybille from under the green stripes of her war paint. When the woman passed, Sybille gripped Elisif’s hand, quickening her pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. Suddenly the woman whipped back around, grabbing Sybille’s arm and jerking the smaller woman towards her. She snatched a handful of Sybille’s robes and pulled the vampire face to face with her as Sybille bared her fangs in a threatening snarl. 

“I know what you are, vermin,” the woman growled. “What are you doing in my domain?”

“And I know what you are, dog,” Sybille stated deliberately, her brows still cinched in aggression. “We’re just passing through.”

“I expect not a whiff of you in this territory by morning,” the woman replied through clenched teeth. “And if I catch wind of any harm befallen these people at your hands, I swear I will track you down and I will rip both you and your pretty little companion to shreds.”

“Well, then I’ll try to keep my hands to myself. Wouldn’t want the mutt clan after me,” Sybille spat coldly.

The red headed woman responded with a rumbling growl as she tightened her grip on Sybille’s robes and jerked the petite woman closer. 

“Alright, I get it,” Sybille sighed. “We’ll be gone before you and your bedmates rouse yourselves from whatever drunken stupor into which you intend to descend tonight.”

“You’d better hope so,” the woman replied, shoving Sybille away harshly as she released her robes with a snarl and sauntered away.

Elisif stood stunned as she watched the scantily clad warrior hike up the stairs near the market. 

“What was that?” Elisif asked in astonishment.

“That,” Sybille began with a sigh, smoothing her robes, “was one of Whiterun’s resident werewolves.”

“Werewolves? In the city?” Elisif questioned incredulously.

“Yes,” Sybille answered, continuing on their path towards the Drunken Huntsman. “Little known fact: the ‘Inner Circle’ of the mighty Companions is actually just a sweaty cesspool of inbred mutts who think they have a monopoly on do-gooding because they kill a few trolls every now and then.”

Elisif snickered at Sybille’s snide assessment of the guild recognized across Skyrim for their heroic exploits.

“So, she knew by your smell?” Elisif insinuated.

“Right. They may be brutes, but they do have enhanced senses similar to mine. That one was Aela. She can be a particular pain in the arse. But the others are either too stupid or too wrapped up in the spirituality of the thing to be of any consequence.”

“You’ve dealt with them before?”

“I’ve dealt with their kind before, and I’ve met the other members of the Inner Circle a long time ago. But it doesn’t really matter. She wouldn’t lift a finger against us if she knew who you were.”

“But you’re saying she’d attack us now?” Elisif asked in alarm.

“She may be dense as a stump, but she’s honorable,” Sybille replied. “As long as we leave by tomorrow morning, everything will be fine.”

The Drunken Huntsman was much less boisterous although quite a few characters did loiter around the main room. Sybille immediately approached the wood elf at the counter and asked about his availability.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he responded. “One master bedroom just upstairs. 15 gold for the night.”

“Yes, we’ll take it,” Elisif responded before Sybille had time to, dropping the coins on the counter.

“Excellent,” the elf said, gathering the coins. “This way.”

He led the two up the stairs which landed directly in front of double doors leading to the spacious room with a large bed. 

“Anything else you ladies need tonight?” he asked patiently.

“We’ll take some ale,” Sybille said.

“Well, I’ll take wine if you have any,” Elisif added.

“Alright, I’ll check in our stocks,” the bartender said as he turned and headed back downstairs.

Elisif dropped her bag in a corner and collapsed on the bed with a sigh.

“I know it’s only been two days, but I already miss this,” Elisif said.

Sybille laughed, throwing her bag next to Elisif’s.

“Come on, you pampered fool,” Sybille said, gripping Elisif’s hand as she pulled her up. “Let’s go get those drinks.”

To Elisif’s delight the elf had managed to find a bottle of Alto wine, which she eagerly bought, while Sybille took her ale. They ate some venison and vegetable stew that another wood elf was cooking over the fire which turned out to be quite delicious.

“Did you enjoy the venison?” the elf asked the two women who had placed themselves at a small table in the corner of the room. 

Elisif nodded and Sybille answered, “We both thought it was very good. Was it your catch?”

“Indeed,” the elf replied proudly, gliding over and occupying the empty chair at their table. “Big six-point and his doe. They’ll feed us for a good month.”

“I’m not terribly experienced with a bow myself, but I do enjoy a good hunt,” Sybille replied coyly. Elisif glanced at the vampire nervously. She knew Sybille liked to play games, but Elisif was not in the mood to flee a troop of angry Whiterun guards chasing a vampire out of town simply because Sybille wanted semantic entertainment.

“As do I,” the elf agreed. “Something about the thrill of the chase always brings me back.”

“Outsmarting your prey, finally laying hands on your game,” Sybille continued slyly. “It’s really quite rewarding.”

“Yes, indeed!” he agreed again excitedly. “For a woman who claims to have little experience with a hunter’s weapon, you seem to be quite an insightful huntress.”

“Well, in my experience, once is all it takes,” Sybille responded with a wry smile. 

The elf studied her with intrigue, narrowing his eyes and seeming to ponder her cryptic words with skepticism. Elisif’s heart turned in her chest as she felt the tension crackle through the air like lightning through clouds. She released her breath when the elf spoke again.

“My name’s Anoriath,” he introduced himself, smiling warmly as he seemed to forgo his apprehensions about Sybille. 

“I’m Clarke and this is my sister Astrid,” Sybille responded. 

“Sisters? You two hardly even look to be distant cousins,” the elf said with a laugh.

“Well, we get that a lot,” Elisif replied. “In truth we’re only sisters through marriage. We aren’t actually related. My father married her mother, but we were both born to different sets of parents before then.”

“Ah, I see,” Anoriath said with a nod.

Elisif beamed as she felt Sybille’s approving glance fall on her.

“Well, Clarke and Astrid, I’m certainly glad you decided to stay with us tonight,” Anoriath said with a smile. “It’s not often we have intriguing women like you two come through.”

“We’re just grateful you had room for us,” Sybille sighed. “We’ve been traveling for days and we needed a rest.”

“What is the purpose of your journey, if I may ask?” Anoriath ventured.

“Our father recently died, and we are traveling to the shrine of Arkay to make an offering and bring his soul peace,” Sybille explained. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Anoriath replied. “It seems he left beautiful legacies behind, though.”

He nodded and smiled towards them.

“Thank you for your kindness, sir,” Elisif responded. Gracefully receiving gushing compliments, especially from men, was something of her specialty. She hadn’t been dubbed Elisif the Fair for nothing. “And what about yourself? Have you any family?”

“Well, my brother and I run this tavern together, but the rest of my family is in my homeland, Valenwood,” Anoriath replied. 

“Oh, that must be terribly difficult to be separated so far from your blood,” Elisif gushed. “Tell us about Valenwood. I’ve never even traveled out of Skyrim before.”

And so, for a while Elisif and Sybille talked with Anoriath about his homeland and journeys, Elisif becoming more genuinely interested in his tales as she dove deeper into her bottle of wine. As the tavern began to empty, Elisif was feeling the effects of her drink. The room swayed pleasantly. Her limbs grew heavy. A soft grin rested on her lips as her eyelids sagged. Her tell-tale sign of drunkenness surfaced as she began touching everyone near her. A light palm on Anoriath’s knee, a laughing grip on Sybille’s arm, and a gentle arm around the dog’s neck panting by her lap. Soon Anoriath too bid them goodnight and turned in to his room for the evening, and Sybille and Elisif made their way up the stairs to their bed. Elisif began undressing for bed but stopped as she began removing her traveling tunic.

“Sybille, I didn’t bring any sleeping clothes,” Elisif said, surprised by the slur in her words. “You told me to pack lightly. So, I hope this is alright with you.”

Elisif gestured to her half-dressed body but stopped in astonishment as she looked up. Sybille had already undressed and wore nothing but her smallclothes, grinning drunkenly as she held her arms out.

“This is all I brought, and I didn’t even think to ask you your opinion on the matter,” Sybille replied, crossing her arms. “So I think it’s safe to say I don’t give a skeever’s arse what you wear. Or don’t wear.”

“Oh, well good,” Elisif said, chuckling as she recovered from her surprise at the situation.

Elisif finished undressing and hurriedly stumbled into the bed, an involuntary shiver racking her limbs as she eagerly burrowed under the blankets out of the cold. Sybille laughed as she too slipped into the bed.

“What?” Elisif questioned suspiciously.

“It’s just funny. You’re cold,” Sybille said, propping herself up on an elbow as she lay on her side facing Elisif, an uncharacteristic smile gracing her visage. “I don’t remember the last time I got cold.”

Elisif couldn’t help but notice with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity Sybille’s pointed fangs grazing her lips as she grinned.

“That’s why you never smile,” Elisif realized quietly, reaching out curiously and placing a finger on Sybille’s lip under her pointed teeth.

Sybille tapped one of her sharp canines with a slim finger. 

“And you thought I just never had anything to be happy about,” Sybille sighed jokingly. 

“Well, that still remains to be seen,” Elisif replied coyly, resting her lolling head on her forearm.

“I may have plenty to lament, but I also have plenty to rejoice,” Sybille answered in a whisper, drawing closer to Elisif. “As do you.”

She tipped Elisif’s chin with a finger, her tired amber eyes meeting Elisif’s hazy blue ones intently. Elisif seemed to read the sum of all of Sybille’s experiences in her golden orbs; her lifetimes of hurt and joy, failures and knowledge. Although Elisif was young by many standards, she was no fool. The simple fact that Sybille had experienced life for far longer than any other person she knew granted the vampire invaluable knowledge and experience. Elisif had much to learn from the strangely alluring Breton. 

“I know you’re hurting, Elisif,” Sybille continued quietly, “but there is so much more left in this world for you. I know. And I want to show you and teach you.”

A grateful grin tugged at a corner of Elisif’s lips as she focused on Sybille’s words. 

“I will not betray or abandon you,” Sybille breathed, bringing a gentle palm to Elisif’s jaw. “You will always have my support and confidence just as your husband and his father before him did.”

Elisif covered Sybille’s cold hand on her cheek with her own, closing her eyes as she leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you, Sybille,” Elisif replied, placing her other hand on Sybille’s forearm. “The Divines couldn’t have blessed me with anyone better.”

Sybille closed the distance between them and planted her lips just at the corner of Elisif’s. Elisif couldn’t quite discern if the kiss was meant for her lips or her cheek.

“I’ll be by your side as long as I live. This I swear to you,” Sybille said with a smile. “Goodnight, Elisif the Fair.”

Sybille released her touch on Elisif, shifting down under the blankets and turning her back on the red-head, leaving a drunken Elisif dumbstruck and confused, but content and secure as she too settled down to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Elisif and Sybille slept in late, allowing ample time for Elisif to fight off her wine-induced headache. As the sun rose higher overhead, Sybille wrapped herself in hooded robes to protect herself from the beaming rays, and the two headed out across Whiterun’s grassland. The day was crisp and clear, the sunlight traipsing through the sparse trees and over the grassy plains in stark beams. Elisif and Sybille headed north of Whiterun until they reached the rocky foothills of the northern mountains.

As the blessed fog of bliss she had shared with Sybille for the last day began to lift, Elisif began once again feeling Torygg’s absence draining her spirit, dampening her mind. His death dragged at her, pulled at her. And while she silently struggled with the reemerging threat of despondency, Sybille finally led them up to a rocky outcropping, forming a shallow cave enclosed by looming pines. Under the cavern overhang towered the immense likeness of Talos, regally bowed over his longsword. At the statue’s feet were nestled offerings of coins, jewels, and food; burning candles and incense; and the lavender shrine in the image of a sword.

When they drew closer, Elisif dismounted, loping towards the looming statue as she unfastened Torygg’s war horn from her side. As her throat tightened, she knelt at the base of the altar, gently placing the horn among the other offerings while she whispered.

“Talos guide you to your final resting place in Sovngarde, my love. You lived and died for your people, as a true king would, and you take a piece of me with you as you depart. Victory or Sovngarde.”

Elisif’s voice hitched as tears sprung to her eyes, and she clutched the altar.

“Why did it have to be like that?” she rasped hoarsely. “Why did you let your faithful servant pass in such a way? Obliterated by a mere word. No dignity. No struggle. Just… nothing.”

As angry tears fell down her cheeks, she rested her head in her arm against the altar and sobs racked her limbs.

“Thank you, my love.”

Every muscle in Elisif’s body froze as that deep, warm voice enveloped her.
Elisif lifted her head, hesitating to hope, and saw him standing before her. It was his ghostly apparition, but it was him nonetheless. Uncontrollable sobs shook her body as she stood to meet him, bringing her hands to his regal, bearded face. But her skin felt no familiar warmth, no comforting texture of his rough beard.

“Torygg?”

“Not as I once was but yes. I’ve been permitted to visit you on this plane one last time.”

“Torygg, I can’t stop seeing you like that… that disgraceful form–” Elisif’s voice hitched as sobs began stuttering through her throat.

“Remember me not in that moment,” Torygg implored, bending to meet Elisif’s downturned face. “It has passed now. Instead remember me like this. Remember me as celebrating in the halls of Sovngarde protected eternally by Talos’ love. As much joy as you have brought me on this plane, nothing compares to the elation that awaits us in Sovngarde. Just imagine – eternal hunting, battling, celebrating, and of course feasting.”

Torygg finished with a mirthful chuckle, and Elisif allowed herself a smile, reflecting their shared knowledge of his legendary propensity for food.

“I miss you so much,” she choked, longing for a semblance of contact with this ghostly form Torygg.

“And I you, Elisif,” he replied gently. “But my journey must progress beyond this world. Grieve for me now and then let that be enough. You have immense responsibility before you, and Talos has equipped you to rise to the occasion. You have strong allies and trusted advisors, but never hesitate to question the motives of those around you. As both the crown queen and a beautiful woman, your constant healthy suspicion should be doubly raised. I trust your judgment and your heart, Elisif. I have no doubt that the realm will be better for having your rule, my love. I know you don’t share my faith in Talos, but I hope you can take comfort in knowing that I am welcomed into Sovngarde. I will love you always. Until we meet again, my queen.”

“I love you, my king,” Elisif responded through tears, reaching out again futilely as her husband’s apparition faded.

“Until we meet again,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself despondently. As Elisif pondered on the apparition of her husband, she felt a weight on her shoulder and the warm squeeze of a hand.

Elisif turned to face Sybille, leaning into an embrace with the cloaked woman. Suddenly, Elisif felt the vampire’s body tense.

“We need to leave now,” Sybille hissed, gripping Elisif’s arm firmly.

“Sybille, wha–”

“Sh, just mount up and follow me,” Sybille whispered. The two reached the horses and began trotting away in the opposite direction from which they had arrived. Sybille then led them at a gallop away from the shrine until they intersected the road at which point she turned heel and began a slow walk back down the road to the shrine.

“Sybille, tell me what’s going on,” Elisif demanded.

“Thalmor,” Sybille replied. “Don your hood.”

Elisif complied and glanced curiously from under her hem towards the shrine as they approached. Just as Sybille had warned, two cloaked and hooded agents now dismounted at the mouth of the shrine.

“Head down, keep moving,” Sybille muttered. Elisif redirected her attention to the road before her as they passed, and the two rode silently for a time.

“Alright, I think we’re beyond suspicion now,” Sybille said. “But that was too close. I wouldn’t have imagined that the agents would be patrolling at wayside shrines like that.”

“It seems they intend to instill their presence in every corner of the realm,” Elisif replied bitterly.

“I take no more pleasure in the conjoining than you do, my queen, but they are allies for the foreseeable future.”
Elisif replied with a grunt, still seething from the thought of the agents patrolling her husband’s sacred shrine.

“Let’s put our minds to travel,” Sybille offered. “I think we can reach Rorikstead by late afternoon. We can rest there until midnight and finish the rest of the journey under moonlight.”

Elisif nodded in agreement as Sybille urged her mount into a trot, the queen following closely behind.