Vavaal dreams of Dovah

It's well past midnight when Vavaal and Serana walk past the gates and into Solitude. Serana notices how Vavaal pulls her hood tighter over her head as they pass the guards. They walk briskly into the Winking Skeever, Vavaal making a beeline for the innkeeper.

I'm fucking exhausted. The mask strapped to Vavaal's face feels like a heavy stone pulling her chin down. Battling the dragon earlier and hiking her ass all the way to Solitude really tired the warrior out. On top of that, keeping her emotions in check to quell that insistent voice in her head is driving her patience thin. All she wants to do is talk to the innkeeper, Corpulus Vinius, restock on sleeping elixirs, and go to sleep.

"Corpulus, so good to see you," Vavaal approaches the bar and leans over its surface. Serana follows suit, casting the innkeeper a pleasant nod. Corpulus, a short Imperial man, freezes upon seeing Vavaal. His hands stop polishing the tankard in his possession.

"Vavaal," he hisses. "What the fuck are you doing here, do you know what the guards will do to you if someone recognizes you."

"Ah, I came to see you old friend," she smiles and whispers. "You have my latest shipment for me, right?" Those damned elixirs are so hard to come by in Skyrim. Skooma, an even more illegal and deadly drug is easier to come by. And cheaper too. But these elixirs are the only thing that helps Vavaal stay asleep at night, so she is held in its grip.

Corpulus peers leans over the bar, looking at the entrance and nearby patrons. Few are awake at this hour, those who are are well past drunk. He reaches under the counter at a small burlap sack and places it between him and Vavaal.

"This is the last time Vavaal, I can't keep doing this, you're gonna get the both of us locked up." Vavaal places a gloved hand over Corpulus's. She gives him another smile, prying the burlap sack from underneath his hands. She just wants to sleep, by the Nine. She doesn't have the patience for his outburst.

"Corpulus, my dear friend. You say this all the time, but you always come through with my elixirs. Could my friend and I have two rooms for the night?" She changes the subject. A small headache begins to form behind her eyes.

Corpulus looks incredulously at Vavaal for a moment before turning his attention to Serana. She softens her countenance, hoping to placate the worried innkeeper. She idly wonders what is in the burlap sack Vavaal holds. It's a little strange how possessive she is over whatever elixirs are inside. I don't pin her as an addict, although I barely know anything about her.

"Are you serious, Vav? After I just told you that I cannot be your pack mule anymore?"

A hefty sack of coins lands heavily on the counter where the elixirs once were. Serana's ember eyes snap to the gold. There has to be at least 100 gold coins in there. She sees the temptation in Corpulus's eyes. 100 gold for two rooms is a steal, any sane person can see that.

"Fine, but you and your friend need to leave before sunrise," the Imperial relents. He shoves two keys at Vavaal and pockets the gold. Vavaal leads Serana to the second floor, locating the rooms with ease. The blond Nord tosses the key at Serana before bidding her goodnight.

"I will see you first thing in the morning," she closes the door before Serana could ask her about what happened downstairs. Serana stares at Vavaal's door for a moment, digesting her peculiar behavior. The vampire tries to chalk it up to her companion's exhaustion, she did just fight a resurrected dragon today.

I'll ask her tomorrow.

In the other room, Vavaal sits down on the narrow bed with a sigh. She looks down at the small burlap sack she got from Corpulus earlier, pulling at the string holding it closed. Inside the pouch is several dozen blue elixir bottles, about the length of her finger. She holds one up to eye-level, admiring the concoction of juiced Canis root, thistle, and blue mountain flower. It's a vile tasting combination, and originally a mild paralysis potion. But years ago Vavaal got her hands on such a potion from an alchemist in Raven Rock after telling him about her sleepwalking, and he recommended the very potion. Now there isn't a night that goes by where Vavaal cannot take this in fear of waking up with Dovah overwhelming her senses.

She places the rest of the elixirs in her pouch and lays the lone bottle on the pillow provided by the inn. She focuses on taking off her armor, placing each piece on the floor with practice, stripping down to a long-sleeved tunic and trousers. Her mask is the last thing to come off, to which she places right next to her pillow.

She reaches for the elixir again, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. It's a shame that she needs something to help her sleep at night, if you want to call paralysis sleep. She pops off the cork before guzzling the contents.

The effects of the elixir take a few minutes to overtake Vavaal. In the interim, Vavaal thinks about her undead companion behind the wall separating their rooms. She is unlike other vampires, any other vampire would've tried to suck her dry already. She is aware how potent her blood is to vampires, hell they literally shout it at her whenever they try to attack her. But not this vampire, no, Serana is more than that. There is someone behind the stoic countenance.

And that Elder Scroll strapped to her back. Every step their little party takes toward Serana's home, the greater sense of dread Vavaal feels surrounding the scroll. She really shouldn't allow it to just walk into a den full of powerful vampires. There has to be someway she could snatch it from the vampire.

Vavaal's eyelids grow heavy as the elixir's ingredients take effect, her thoughts disrupted by a clouding sensation. She feels her muscles begin to stiffen underneath the furs as she slips into unconsciousness.

Sleep now, Bron.

Vavaal wades through ankle high water in the darkness. There is no source of light where she is and it is eerily quiet with the exception of water splashing around her ankles. The darkness feels familiar to her, enveloping her in its cold embrace.

"That was quite the display today, Bron," Dovah's voice reverberates throughout the darkness. Her deep rumble comes from all directions without a source. "You fought weakly, I'm disappointed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the controlled calm Vavaal usually holds is gone, replaced with hostility. In this little realm of Oblivion, there is no need to keep her emotions in check with the monster within right in front of her. A deep chuckle responds to Vavaal, shaking her chest with its force. There is a sound of metal shackles clinking, and out of the void, the head of a giant dragon comes snaking out. Its scales are the color of smoke and four horns protrude from its head, curved toward its snout. Large shackles fit snuggly around the ends of the bottom two horns, chains leading into the thick darkness. Heat dissipates from between Dovah's scales, evaporating the water beneath her head into steam.

"Oh you know exactly, what I am talking about," Dovah pauses her head beside where Vavaal stands so one of her blue eyes faces the Nord. Vavaal stares back at her, Dovah's dark pupil acting like a mirror. The dragon's size dwarfs the human, enabling Vavaal to see her full reflection in the pupil slit. The rest of the dragon's body is hidden within the void, like always. The Nord is always grateful for that, she never has any desire to see the full monster. "You would have died if it were not for my power, Bron."

"Stop calling me that, I have a fucking name," Vavaal hisses at the dragon.

The dragon chuckles again, her mouth pulling back and revealing a row of razor sharp teeth.

"You know," she begins, her eyes blinking lazily. "All dragons are named, but it is not given until it is earned. Calling a dragon by its name gives it power. You have yet to earn your name from me, Mirela Vavaal."

Dovah sneers as she spits Vavaal's name out through her teeth.

"I could say the same for you, Dovah. You are cursed without a name."

Dovah's eye narrows at this, an angry hiss escapes her throat.

"My strength grows with every passing day, fool. With every dragon soul you absorb, I grow stronger. There will be a day where you will fail to come out of your little rage and that will be the day I control your pathetic body." Dovah's large head lifts from the water and hovers over Vavaal.

"I will devour your very mind as soon as these shackles release me. Your days are numbered, Bron." Dovah's mouth opens, displaying all her teeth. Her mouth barrels down until her jaws snap shut around Vavaal with a crunch.

Vavaal is exhausted the next morning, partially because of Dovah and partially because of Serana actually listening to Corpulus's orders and knocking on her door at sunrise. The warrior dresses herself on autopilot, strapping her heavy Dawnguard armor over her clothes. She has never been a morning person, the sleeping elixirs are rather potent. She stretches her arms in the air, still feeling a mild numbing sensation in her muscles. The only thing that eliminates the elixir's effects is time, and Vavaal can only hope the morning goes off without a hitch.

Serana waits patiently for Vavaal to dress, leaning against the wall opposite of the door. She didn't sleep that night, preferring to stay up and read a small book, Beggar, left by the room's previous patron. It was a decent read, but her mind was occupied elsewhere. At some point during the night, Serana was even able to feed on one of the other patrons in the inn. The sleeping Breton's blood was pleasant on her tongue, but his scent paled in comparison to Vavaal's. But for the rest of the night, her nerves were on edge with the prospect of seeing her father again after centuries. Will he still remember her? Of course. Will he welcome her back with open arms? Unlikely. He'll be more happy to have the Elder Scroll back in his hands. Having his daughter with him again will only be his way of insulting her mother, Valerica.

The vampire can hear the Dragonborn's slow-heart beat through the door. It's peculiar, even a sleeping mortal's heartbeat is stronger than what she heard throughout the night. If Serana didn't know better, she would've thought Vavaal was dying.

The door opens to reveal a fully-clad Vavaal. Her cowl already clipped to her mask and Bloodskal is strapped to her back.

"You're up early," says Vavaal. Her voice is scratchy from lack of sleep. She peers down at Serana, avoiding eye-contact with the scroll.

"We need to leave," Serana turns on her heel and makes for the stairs.

"Well aren't you a stickler to rules," Vavaal jests and follows the vampire. She focuses on the Elder Scroll in front of her. The stab of dread last night returns in full force. There is no way she should just let the scroll walk into the arms of Serana's cult. Vavaal knew how powerful Elder Scrolls were, its ancient parchment full of knowledge that start wars and level countries.

But why would vampires need it?

The women walk past the gate, Vavaal turns her head down as they pass the guards. One of the guards in particular locks onto her form as she walks past, burning holes in the back of Vavaal's head. Vavaal's head is wanted in Solitude, and for a good price too.

"We need to walk faster," Vavaal picks up the pace. "If we can get to the docks, we might be able to get a boat out of here. Do you think you can point out your home on a map?"

Serana matches Vavaal's gait and nods. Vavaal isn't the only one who notices the guard's interest in the Dragonborn. And the question is just begging to be asked.

"What was Corpulus talking about last night? You're acting a little strange," Serana's voice is low so that a passer-by doesn't hear her. Vavaal's heartbeat is stronger now, it drums rhythmically in her chest. Its little skip doesn't go unnoticed by the vampire.

"I'll explain once we are out of earshot."

There's a lot of explaining to do on Vavaal's part. And it's a story that she prefers not to tell. But maybe if she tells Serana why, she could find out the purpose of that Elder Scroll. An eye for an eye kind of trade.

Vavaal has never been so relieved to see a tiny skiff. Its captain is sitting on the dock, letting his legs hangover the water. Vavaal swiftly approaches him and offers a pleasant smile.

"Good morning, are you offering rides today?"

The sailor takes in the armor-clad women, looking uneasily at the masked blond.

"Depends on where you wanna go," he answers.

"We want to sail for a small island just west of here. It should be before the border to High Rock." The man's eyes widen comically at the mention of this island.

"Do you mean the one with the castle?" The women nod. "Are you two insane? It's rumored to be haunted, there is no way I'm going there."

Vavaal sighed. This was not how she wanted her morning to start, arguing away with some sailor. She squats on her toes beside him so she is eye-level. Charisma has never been her strong-suit even with the mask off. Her mother always said she took after her father by being brash and awkward instead. So she resorts to bribery.

"How much gold would it take for you to drop us off at the shore?" She reaches for her pouch and places a gloved hand over it. The captain's eyes filter to her pouch, thoughtful for a moment. He looks back at Vavaal with a spark in his eye.

"1000 septims, half for the amount of gold on your head and half for keeping me quiet about ever seeing you."

Well, that is a little more than Vavaal could supply. The captain looks over her shoulder, she follows his gaze and spies a guard patrolling the docks. His back is to them, but one shout from the captain and it's all over.

Threaten his life, Dovah whispers in Vavaal's mind. Tell him that he will die like the others you killed in Raven Rock.

Vavaal rubs her temples with her forefingers, Dovah's voice causing a mild pounding behind her eyes. The lack of sleep must have lessen Vavaal's resolve to keep Dovah under wraps in her little void. She can envision the dragon so clearly giving a malicious grin.

No, that is something you would do. Not me, she calmly responds. A hand settles on the pauldron armoring her left shoulder. Vavaal looks up to see Serana extending her hand toward the captain. Her guarded countenance is relaxed, and for the first time Vavaal sees a friendly smile on her face.

"I don't believe we have met," she says to the captain. "My name is Serana, and this is my friend Vavaal."

Serana catches the captain look down at her exposed chest and back up at her. His ears are slightly pink from his unabashed look. Men are usually easier to enthrall for her, being attracted to her looks makes them the more vulnerable. The captain reaches up to clasp her hand.

"I'm—" his introduction is cut off by a numbing sensation that wracks his body from his hand shaking the vampire's. His grip loosens and Serana lets it fall from her grip, back down to his side. Her smile turns into a smirk of satisfaction. He blinks a few times at the vampire, as if clearing his head. "I'm sorry, where was it you wanted to go?"

Vavaal is impressed that Serana is able to enthrall the man so calmly. She always thought enthralling someone meant that a vampire had to bite them and pull their very will from their body, or something like that. She heard about it from one of the Dawnguard members, but apparently that should've been taken with a grain of salt. Once they board the small boat and the man starts rowing, Vavaal asks Serana and she explains that vampires like her can enthrall mortals with just a glance or a touch.

"What kind of vampire are you? I didn't know there where types," Vavaal watches Serana as she enchants the oars the captain is using. The wooden oars glow green under her spell and the man's strokes become stronger, propelling the boat faster.

"There are a few kinds of vampires," Serana twists in her seat so she faces Vavaal again. Her hood is pulled over her head to shield her skin from the rising sun. "There are those with a disease you are probably familiar with, Sanguinare Vampiris."

Vavaal nods at the mention of the name. There has been a few times where she has contracted the disease from her time with the Dawnguard, but fortunately a small potion or a blessing from Florentius, a warrior-priest of Arkay, was enough to cure her.

"Those vampires are considered impure and weak in comparison to my family's blood," Serana continues. "My family, the Volkihar Clan, are pure vampires. I am what you would call a Daughter of Coldharbour."

Coldharbour, it sounds sinister. "How is this different from Sanguinare Vampiris?" Vavaal asks.

"Our powers are granted from Molag Bad himself. He is considered the creator of vampires, and to become one you go through a ritual," Serana explains. "My family, long ago, went through this ritual. It's not exactly the typical family bonding activity."

"What was the ritual?" the Dragonborn asks curiously. Serana visibly stiffens, her voice dying in her throat. For once, Vavaal sees Serana at a loss for words and a little vulnerable. "You don't have to tell me, if it's too uncomfortable."

"Thank you, I'd rather not talk about it." For the first time, Serana gives Vavaal brief smile. This is a lot of firsts, Vavaal thinks. And in one morning, too. She grins back.

"Of course, that's what friends are for," she recalls what Serana called her on the docks. The vampire rolls her eyes, struggling to contain a smile from spreading over her face. Serana takes in her companion before her. Her physical appearance is daunting, her height is imposing and the mysterious sword on her back is the color of blood. And, again, that mask. But the more she talks to the Dragonborn, the harder it is to associate her with a wanted criminal, someone "monstrous."

"Vavaal, what was Corpulous talking about last night?" Serana asks. She feels like she needs to know this big, fat question mark hanging over Vavaal's head. Somethings are just not adding up.

Vavaal is not surprised by the vampires question, in fact, she has been expecting it to come up at some point this morning. Vavaal's back straightens and she looks over to the boat at the sea passing by them. Her eyes cloud over as she sharply remembers what happened that bloody night in Raven Rock all those moons ago. It's been five years now, her twenty-seventh year just passing months ago.

"It's not a story I like to tell," Vavaal stares into the water's murky depths. "But how about this, I tell you this long story and in return you tell me about why you have an Elder Scroll strapped to your back."

Serana mulls over the Dragonborn's proposal, her tongue running over her fangs in thought. It's a fair trade at face value, a story for a story. And Vavaal has put so much on the line for her already.

Going against her superiors orders and not killing her.

Defending her from a dragon.

Helping her return home knowing she may walk into a vampire coven.

"Alright, after everything you have done for me so far, I feel like I owe you an explanation," Serana looks briefly over her shoulder at her thrall. "How about you go first? Don't worry about saying anything, he won't remember any of this ever happening once this is all over."

Vavaal nods.

"Alright. Well, everything began to spiral downward during my twenty-second year…"

AN: Hey y'all, sorry for the delay. Classes have been so hectic online.

Up next is a flashback courtesy of Vavaal, Serana will finally learn why everyone wants the Dragonborn's head.