Trust in Lust Ch. 01

Florentius Baenius muttered in irritation as he picked the aged parchment off the stone floor in the private quarters of Isran, who had tossed it aside with indifference and skepticism. Before them stood Serana, the self-exiled vampire noblewoman of the recently destroyed Clan Volkihar, glaring with arms crossed and fingers tapping. She had returned to Fort Dawnguard with a satchel full of old journals and weathered scrolls concerning a dangerous vampire amulet lost to the ages. She claimed rumors of its existence were spreading throughout the vampire underground, as well that it was in the Dawnguard's best interest that she be the one to recover it. While not an official member of the Dawnguard, Serana had taken up a temporary residence with the vampire hunters after their successful raid on her home, Castle Volkihar, and the prevention of her father fulfilling his apocalyptic prophecy. Her mother, Valerica, had left the Soul Cairn once the Dragonborn informed her of Harkon's death. The older vampire decided to stay in the now empty island castle, but Serana was not yet ready to mend their fragile relationship. Isran, the leader of the Dawnguard and despiser of all vampires, only tolerated her presence due to the Dragonborn's request. He would begrudgingly admit that the vampire's assistance was vital to their success, but he was still distrustful of her. At the moment, the Redguard refused to entertain her outrageous demands that the Dawnguard chase after whispers across Skyrim and into caves and barrows likely filled with her kind.

"Please, Isran," Florentius strained, "this looks thousands of years old! A wrong look might even damage it."

Isran scoffed. The Redguard could care less about vampire paraphernalia, especially when they involved another "ancient legend" of some vague artifact. After what he learned from the Dragonborn about the nonsense behind Auriel's Bow, he found it difficult to put any stock behind vampiric records of relics.

"So what? Even if it really is that old, it's probably just a trap. Another made up prophecy by some upstart blood sucker who wants to be the next Harkon."

His fellow Dawnguard member rolled his eyes but did not disagree. As usual, he would privately confer with Arkay on the validity of the documents Serana brought them. Far be it from him to argue with Isran, especially when it came to matters such as this. But if the writings were not genuine, then they were as much as an anomaly as the Elder Scroll for clearly appearing to be as ancient as claimed.

The vampire in their company was less inclined to be agreeable towards the Dawnguard leader's dismissive demeanor. Her brow scrunched, and her fingers clenched against her arm. Her father's name still held a shadow over her, even after his death. She partly suspected Isran used it just to taunt her, he was cruel enough to slight in such a way. She refused to take the bait, and instead closed her eyes to collect herself. Her journey with the Dragonborn taught her the values of patience and communication.

"My mother can confirm its legitimacy," she said with tempered annoyance. "The Amorous Amulet was created through a pact with a Daedric Prince. There are illustrations and records of its last known locations."

Isran straightened slightly. "Now that's a detail worth exploring. Which Daedric Prince?"

Florentius piped in. "Molag Bal, I'm sure of it. Given the amulet amplifies a vampire's power of seduction and subjugation, all signs point to the Prince of Domination. Not to mention he is the progenitor of vampirism - am I correct in this, Serana?"

Serana held Florentius in higher regard than his superior (then again, she held every member with greater esteem than Isran) and gave him the courtesy of a confirming nod. "Yes, which is why it's imperative we track down this artifact and either destroy it or seal it away. With my father and his entire court destroyed, every coven and clan has been looking for an edge against their rivals. We're talking about a potential clan war that will spill over to the towns and villages of Skyrim, maybe even all of Tamriel."

Isran stroked his beard. His hardened eyes drifted to his desk in contemplation. Vampire activity had spiked more than expected, and Florentius appeared to give credence to their vampire guest's findings. Regardless of whether or not he could actually speak to Arkay, Florentius was one of the few people in Tamriel that Isran trusted.

"Let's assume you're correct," the Redguard said, addressing Serana. "Why should we waste resources on a goose chase when we could be mobilizing to take advantage of enemy infighting? Let the blood suckers kill each other. We can focus on protecting vulnerable settlements."

"And how long do you think you can keep that up?" The vampire retorted, which earned a scowl. "And when a vampire powerful enough to wield it properly gets their claws on it, are you going to be prepared for my kind uniting against you? You can spare some men to ensure that doesn't happen, can't you?"

Isran slammed his hand on the desk. The gesture did not intimidate Serana, nor did he expect it to. "You mean sentence them to certain death in the wilds? Dragons, werewolves, and Divines know what else besides monsters like you are out there."

"They wouldn't be alone! I'd be with them -- I can protect them." She had stepped forward to challenge his refusal, making sure not to bare her fangs and with her hand over her heart.

The two Dawnguard exchanged bewildered looks. Florentius shrugged; he appeared to be convinced of her conviction. Isran was a tougher sell. He silently cursed the Dragonborn for their absence; she was off investigating some cult on Saltmine or Souls-time or whatever the bloody island was called. Isran could not remember the specifics, but none of it involved vampires, so he did not care. More dragon shit, probably, he thought to himself. Whatever the case, he much desired her to take care of Serana's nonsense. He had real people -- vulnerable people -- to focus his efforts on protecting. The camp of refugees outside Fort Dawnguard was proof enough of that.

"Do you even know where it's located?" Isran asked the vampire. Her reaction to the question failed to advertise an air of certainty.

Serana straightened and reformed her confidence. "I have a lead. There's an unnamed ruin outside of Rorikstead. That scroll you cast aside onto the floor is the last dated letter of the vampire nobleman I've been telling you about. It's addressed to a servant or possibly a concubine; either way, someone he trusted enough to summon to this location in secret."

Florentius scanned the document. "Looks that way. Especially this part about their 'service in eternal pleasure', that can't be good. Isran..."

The Redguard gave an irritated groan. Great, now he's invested, Isran thought. If Florentius thought a venture like this was worth putting stock into, he'd eventually persuade the Redguard to do the same; better for Isran to grit his teeth now and get the matter over with quickly. But he had to give the vampire her due credit as well. After all, she had done nearly all the legwork already for this fool's errand. As a vampire, she held no real clout within these walls, but her actions against her father proved as much that the Dawnguard leader could not easily dismiss her apprehensions. "Fine then. I'll ask around for volunteers and get some provisions ready. Be ready first thing tomorrow morning by the waterfall. But this favor is going to cost you; after we find this artifact -- if there even is one -- your respite at Fort Dawnguard is over."

Her fist clenched. "Fine."

Serana, as usual, did not sleep that night. Ever since awakening from her possibly millennium-long slumber, she had yet to feel an inkling of needing to feed nor rest. She spent the moonlight hours at Fort Dawnguard prowling for hostile scouts or other threats to the civilians camped outside the walls. She pitied those people; not just for their predicament caused by her kind, but because Isran, stubborn as an ass, refused to allow them inside where they would be better protected from potential attacks and the harsh Skyrim weather. She almost pitied the man for his clear lack of trust, even with innocent victims of his hated enemy. Almost. She was hardly able to condescend on such matters given her own uphill journey of putting faith in others.

The dawn cracked over the mountains that protected the canyon where the old fortress presided. Serana donned her hood, a habit now guided by muscle memory. The vampire hunters that would be joining her were not nocturnal, she understood that, but she suspected Isran wanted to torment her with as much exposure to sunlight as possible. She stood by the rowboat at the waterfall's pool, keeping watch up the path in expectation of at least a handful of Dawnguard. Florentius would have been welcomed, of course, and Serana would have also enjoyed the company of Beleval or Sorine. If Isran wanted some peace and quiet, he'd probably send the young Agmaer along.

She was surprised to see only one person coming along the trail: the Dawnguard leader himself.

"What's this?" she asked, crossing her arms in preparation for a verbal confrontation. She did not bother disguising the displeasure in her voice with the Redguard.

Likewise, Isran did not feign any ignorance. "These are the volunteers."

Serana glanced behind him, then rolled her neck to scope their surroundings. Her blank stare landed on Isran. "It's just you."

"Yes."

She sighed. "No one would sign up but you?"

"Not quite," he said. "I volunteered myself in the event this turned out to be dead end. I'm not risking the lives of my specialists, and we're too short on manpower to spare any enlisted hunters. If what you said is true about your kind spreading trouble to the settlements, then their duty is there."

"So, I'm stuck with you?"

He rasped a mocking chortle. "Other way around. I'm stuck keeping an eye on you. The Dragonborn trusts you, it's true. But they aren't here, and my trust isn't so easily won over. You're still a vampire, you're lucky I waited until now to rescind your guest status here."

Serana's arms fell to her side, she turned away and started heading up the path to exit the canyon. "It's still the same old story between you and me, isn't it? Even after all this time." She pulled her hood further over her face.

"Mostly."

"Mostly?" Her eyes shifted to the corners.

"You helped us before. Against your own family and killed probably a score or more of your kind. So, I'm mostly sure you aren't going to stab us in the back."

Serana shook her head. "Charming."

They walked to Riften, then took the carriage out to Rorikstead. They spoke little during their travels, if at all. At first Serana enjoyed the silence, but as they neared the village in Whiterun Hold, that content feeling withered into uneasiness and an anxiety for conversation. She blamed the Dragonborn's innate chattiness that eventually wore down the vampire's walls during their adventure. Isran was more likely to chide or deflect from exchanging words with Serana, but she decided that was better than nothing. She cleared her throat. "Have you been to Rorikstead before?"

Isran, who had been staring across the scenery, blinked and turned to her. A moment passed before he answered. "Once, I think. All these Nord farms look the same to me."

Now that was something to open into conversation. "Sounds like you didn't grow up in Skyrim."

"No, I didn't."

Serana paused, hoping he'd continue more about himself. It became clear very soon he had no intention of exchanging any more words than necessary, small or otherwise. Indeed, his mummer's resolve held until they arrived at the small farming community. He ignored the stares of the locals and turned his attention to the sky after hopping off the carriage. To Serana, he appeared to be judging the weather.

"What direction and how far from here?" He asked without looking at her.

She pointed. "Directly to the East in the uplands. I think it's some sort of bandit country; the local guard tries to avoid the area."

Isran grumbled and started heading towards the lead. "Let's hope it's just bandits." Serana followed after.

The sky was gloomy, but the air was agreeable and clear. The moldering ruins Serana mentioned were visible from a distance, unassuming and in disrepair. The pair did run into men who lived outside the law, just not in the condition Isran expected. Evidently, a group of vampires had found the ancient grounds first and had stationed the zombified bandits with one of their own who was acting as sentry to their nefarious expedition. Tents and a fireplace were set atop the weathered stone, giving support to Serana's fears of a vampire frenzy for the artifact.

As the sun was in its final hour, Isran used the last of its light to target the undead servants with his crossbow. By the time the vampire stationed at the ruins could trace the source of the bolts, the bandits had reverted to ash and Serana had emerged from the shadows and electrocuted the fiend with lightning magic, inhibiting her opponent from moving. Isran took the advantage and closed in with his hammer, raising it above his head and striking their enemy with the spike on his hammer. The vampire gurgled wordlessly before crumpling to a motionless heap.

"Nice work," Serana said with an encouraging smile. The response was a grunt and nod of the head. Isran spared no time in their swift victory, instead he searched the immediate area for potentially hidden threats, gripping his war hammer tightly.

"Don't worry, that's the last of them," she said, touching the tip of her nose to signal her enhanced senses. "At least, above ground."

The Redguard gave her a puzzled look but relaxed his posture slightly. He followed her finger from her nose pointing now to the trap door within the ruins beneath her boot. Once inside, the two made short work of the unsuspecting vampires looting what appeared to be a Nord tomb. Isran lost his crossbow in the skirmishing, but such a cost was nothing compared to the two additional vampires he was able to kill in exchange. The vampires had already taken care of the tenacious draugr that awaited would-be grave robbers, and apparently had ransacked the place long enough with no amulet or Daedric artifact to show for it. However, if Serana's travels with Dragonborn taught her one thing, it was how to be a keen dungeon delver. She quickly discovered a tucked away lever in a small gap. After pulling it, a hidden door within the wall slid open, spreading dust towards them with its loud scraping and grinding of rock.

The two exchanged determined expressions. Isran lit a torch and motioned towards the secret passage. "You first."

Serana rolled her eyes. By now, the Redguard's skepticism was both expected and tiresome. With an air of indifference, she strode into the tunnel with the Dawnguard leader close behind her. At once, the two noticed the difference in structure of this hidden section of the ruins compared to the Nordic design of the burial chambers. As they walked heel first through the tight corners of the passageway, Serana couldn't shake the foreboding of the strange patterns on the walls and ceiling. It seemed alien to her; nothing that denoted any of the vampire clans she knew of. Strange as it was, this tunnel, and wherever it led, was probably just as ancient as the rest of the moldering ruins. The vampire put her hand out to feel the wall.

"These carvings..."

"What about them?"

"They're...different," she said while scanning the walls and doorways.

Isran grunted. "Different how? Not the vampire clan you were expecting or something?"

"No. There's nothing here that looks familiar or even similar to my father's castle. Nothing that indicates the vampire lord worshipped Molag Bal."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

The vampire huffed. Typical human: dedicated his existence to hunting her kind but remained ignorant. "The amulet is a Daedric artifact. Daedric Princes don't simply give those away; they normally only grant boons to their followers."

"Then, you're saying it's not Daedric?"

She shook her head. "No, the amulet is definitely from Oblivion, all the sources point to Daedric origins."

Isran tried to interpret the architecture as she did, but he knew when to admit he was out of his element. His time as a Vigilant of Stendarr was mostly spent on his vampire obsession, he cared little for anything else, let alone the intangible influences of the Princes. What mattered was the damage caused by the monsters with their feet on the ground in Tamriel, destroying the lives of the everyman.

He chose to focus on the practical. "Should we take a new approach? You don't seem too concerned."

"We should be fine," she replied after some thought. "I'm actually relieved that Bal isn't directly involved; it means the amulet will be weaker than we expected."

"All this trouble for nothing, then," the Redguard grumbled.

Serana ignored him. She would have pointed out they were still preventing an all-out war among the numerous conclaves of her kind and saving countless of innocents in collateral damage, but arguing with the Dawnguard leader was as fruitless as draining blood from a draugr.

Soon they came to a stone double door with the image of a horned helmet in the center. Both the vampire and the Redguard could feel an ominous pressure behind the dark membrane to the other side. The air felt condensed as they edged closer.

"If this amulet is anywhere," Isran whispered, "I'd wager Fort Dawnguard it's behind that door."

Serana couldn't help but let a small smirk escape. "Whatever's there, we will handle it. If it's draugr, or worse, I know you've got a few tricks up your sleeve even without that crossbow."

It was Isran's turn to smile. "We charge in ready; if there's a guardian or host of blood suckers, we'll have the drop on them."

Serana exhaled and primed lightning magic in her hand. Isran, ready with his torch and a spell of his own, which burned brighter than his torch. The vampire brought the flat of her boot against the door with a mighty kick and forced it open, and the two rushed inside with grim faces and teeth bared. To their surprise, they found themselves in a small chamber as lifeless as the hallway they came from. It was dark. Even after Isran found a brazier to ignite, the human could not make out much. The same crooked carvings and black imagery decorated the area. On one side of the room stood a regal bed, preserved by time, and lacking any noticeable erosion as with the rest of the room's miscellaneous decorations. A meter or so away and in the center of the chamber, sat who they desuced to be the vampire noble of Serana's research upon a rotting throne, at his feet lay a pile of female corpses -- each of a different race of man, mer, and beastfolk. The noble and his harem were less so preserved. Much less. In fact, they were hardly recognizable apart from draugr, with leathery, grey skin, empty eye sockets, and withered hair and lips. Their sparse and revealing clothing bore unfamiliar patterns that denoted just how long the inhabitants had resided there.

Around the neck of the mummified vampire rested a pinkish red stone wrapped in wiry black metal in the rough shape of a human heart, held aloft by a pale silver chain. Serana's eyes widened. She doused the spell in her hand and carefully toed towards the amulet. "This is it..."

Isran was unimpressed. He lowered his own spell and propped his war hammer against the frame of the bed, where his interest was diverted to a leatherbound journal. "Doesn't seem that dangerous if old cock-for-fangs used it for simple depravity like this. What's this?"

Serana paid him little mind, her focus was on obtaining this dangerous weapon and ensuring it would not fall into the wrong hands. She thought of offering it to the Dragonborn for safe keeping, or even her mother. If I get desperate enough, she thought to herself. She carefully lifted it over the cadaver's head and held the jewel in her hands for study. It felt like an empty soul gem, without power and nearly weightless.