Chapter Text
The chamber was small and covered in a thin layer of dust. It looked to have once been a common area for servants in ages long past when Skyrim was a greater power in the world. Sybille had chosen it because it was far from the rooms currently in use. No one would hear the sounds of a struggle. Perhaps it would be used again someday soon, now that Windhelm was the center of the country’s politics. At the very least it would have to be cleaned within the next day.
The Dragonborn sat across from Elisif at the squat table, eyes bloodshot and swirling with cruel greed. He wore his ebony mail, a beautiful work of craftsmanship which gleamed in the low light. Coils of shadow seemed to lick at the dark plates and chain until Elisif looked at them head-on, after which they vanished. Would a daedric lord allow their champion to die so easily in this way?
“I-” Elisif rasped. She swallowed and cleared her throat. No longer breathing made it difficult to speak. Her insides felt dry and withered like a fruit left out in the sun too long. “I did not know what to expect when my court wizard said you would be joining us.” She glanced at Sybille waiting against the wall, just behind the man’s shoulder. “But I am magnanimous.”
The Dragonborn frowned. “I did not come begging for forgiveness. Not from you.” He held his wine glass and idly swirled it in a clockwise motion.
“Then what is your business?” Elisif caught the expectant look when she lifted her own drink. The dagger hidden in her other sleeve felt warm against her cooling flesh. She was frightened.
“That’s a good question,” the Dragonborn replied, clearly not having thought of an excuse before coming. “In Sovngarde,” he began, regaining his confidence, “I met your husband.”
Elisif froze. Her heightened senses even noticed Sybille stiffen ever so slightly. This was not what they expected. “Torygg?”
The man’s smile returned, clearly judging he had something Elisif wanted. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know Alduin didn’t eat his soul.”
“Y- yes,” Elisif stuttered, trying to keep the yearning interest from her tone. “You- did you speak to him?”
“I did.” The Dragonborn shrugged carelessly and lifted the wine to his lips.
“What did he say?” Elisif interjected. This was her only chance to know!
The man laughed heartlessly and lowered his glass. “He talked about honor and fate. Very high-minded guy.” He smirked. “I don’t think he ever mentioned you.”
A wash of vertigo overcame Elisif for a second. Why did that disappoint her so? Why did that hurt so greatly? She knew she should take the report with a grain of salt since it was this man giving it. Maybe that’s why it skewered her heart so: the fact that if it was a lie, she couldn’t tell.
“I see,” Elisif spoke softly.
“You should’ve married me when you had the chance,” the Dragonborn chastised. “I would have treated you better than he did.” He raised his glass and Elisif brought hers up by reflex. If her heart still worked it might have skipped a beat. It was time. “You’ll get what you deserve,” the Dragonborn chuckled humorlessly before they brought their wine to their lips.
The liquid filled Elisif’s mouth. She could only barely taste the alcohol, to say nothing of the grapes. It was empty of flavor. Less even than water. She felt it fall inexorably down her throat to settle in her dead organs. It was not what she wanted to drink.
She placed her glass neatly back on the table in front of her. The Dragonborn’s gaze narrowed for an instant. “Wait-” Then his eyes bulged. Hands flew to his throat. He choked and coughed. “What?!” There was a great clatter as he staggered to his feet, sending the chair falling backward behind him.
“What’s wrong?” Elisif rose as well, plastering an expression of innocent worry on her features. Sybille stepped forward too.
The poisoned man flailed, scrabbling for the hilt of his weapon. “You-” he retched, foam bubbled from his lips. He stumbled back from Elisif and rounded on Sybille. “You did this!”
The dagger was in her hand. Her footsteps were fleet. The Dragonborn was not even aware. Elisif brought her hand up and stabbed. A perfect hit. Just beside the breastplate where there was only mail to allow the arm to move. Blade angled to slip through the chink in the armor. The jarl of Solitude and former high queen of Skyrim buried her dagger into the chest of the man who had saved the world.
Blood immediately spilled down onto her hand in a great gout, even as she drew away. She was not fast enough. The Dragonborn roared in rage and pain. Poisoned and wounded though he was, he still spun with great dexterity and smacked Elisif aside with an armored forearm. She fell to the stones, skidding a ways. Were she not undead, it would have hurt far more.
He stalked toward her, tendrils of shadow now visibly twisting off of his dark armor. The mace at his belt glowed a sickly green. Wrathful eyes looked full of dragon flame even as blood began to drip from his mouth.
Elisif crawled backward on her hands, hoping desperately that Sybille would finish the job. Yet in her heart she knew why her court wizard waited. Elisif had not yet died in battle. It was always the plan for her to expire this way. Martyred by the most reviled man in Skyrim. All glory given to her posthumous name.
A hit by that mace would hurt terribly, but Elisif knew she could weather it. She was a vampire now, after all. One hit. Then Sybille would kill him. It was only because Elisif hadn’t explained fast enough. Only because Elisif hadn’t been forthcoming and honest over the past several days. She could take a swing of the mace.
But that was not what the Dragonborn employed to kill her.
“Fus Ro Dah!” The earsplitting shout shook the room. A burst of pale blue light rippled out from the Dragonborn’s lips, racing toward the woman scrabbling on the floor.
Elisif was flung backward like a child’s cloth doll, smashing against the stone wall beyond. Awful snapping and cracking noises reverberated through her skull. Oh, she thought mildly, those must be my bones. The agony raced through her before she had even crumpled to the ground in a broken heap.
Suddenly everything else in the world was far away. A groan of pain and a sickening wet sound, followed by a heavy thud tickled Elisif’s ears, but they couldn’t quite penetrate past the ringing. She stared at the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling. The threads were covered in dust. The spider who once owned that little home must surely be dead. Like her. Like Sybille. Like the Dragonborn.
Elisif’s lips twitched into a smile. It would have been quite poetic to die in the same way Torygg did. She almost regretted becoming undead because it would rob the bards of such a perfect ending to her tale. Alas, she would live (relatively speaking). Shattered bones were nothing to a vampire! Yes, she could no longer feel much of her body at all… or maybe she could, it was simply that everything hurt very acutely? Regardless, she knew her wounds must be mending.
“Elisif.” The familiar voice waded through the dark waters of her mind. “Elisif.” There were two suns above her, dark and beautiful. They didn’t burn her like the other one did. “Elisif!” No, not suns. Eyes. Sybille.
“Hello,” Elisif murmured. She was not quite sure if she had managed to speak the word aloud or only said it in her mind.
A feeling other than pain wormed into her head. Her hand had been clasped and held. Oh Sybille. Hair was brushed out of her face. The eyes became clearer. “Elisif, you don’t have long left. I’m sorry it went the way it did.”
Elisif giggled. It came out as a small moan. “I’ll be okay.” She tried her damndest to widen the smile on her face to reassure her vampire. “I won’t die.” She squeezed Sybille’s hand. “I’m a vampire.”
Orange eyes widened. Her hand was dropped to the stones. Sybille’s voice came out flat and hollow. “What.”
“I drank your blood, remember?” Elisif explained dreamily. She tried to lift her hand to touch Sybille’s face but her muscles wouldn’t respond.
“No.” It was hard for a vampire to look ashen, but Sybille managed it. “Elisif, tell me you drank the potion.”
“I didn’t,” Elisif replied happily. “I hope you don’t mind if I-” A terrible, painful cough racked her broken body. Something warm and sticky dribbled down her chin. “I hope it’s okay if I stay with you a little longer.”
“Elisif. Oh gods.” Sybille screwed her eyes shut then looked around her powerlessly. “You- Elisif, why?”
She must be overwhelmed with joy. Hadn’t Sybille admitted she wanted Elisif to stay? It was all a lot to process, even for her. Elisif tried once again to lift her hand to comfort her vampire, but she still could not.
“Sybille, could you use some healing spells?” Elisif asked awkwardly. “It would make this… go faster.”
“I can’t,” Sybille whispered. “Restoration magic does not work on the undead.”
“Oh.” That was unfortunate. She’d have to take the long route then. Another cough, only less a cough and more just- blood forcing its way up her esophagus. Flecks of it hit Sybille’s pale cheeks and glistened there, ruby red. She had not yet been undead long enough for it to lose its luster.
“Elisif, you…” Sybille struggled to find the words. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
“I realized I would rather stay here than go to Torygg.”
“You should have told me!”
Elisif tried to shrug. She couldn’t. “You didn’t tell me you wanted me to stay.”
Sybille ran a frustrated hand down her face. Except it wasn’t frustration so much as… hmm… anguish? Could a vampire cry? Sybille looked like she might shed a tear. But why? This was a good turn of events, right?
“Sybille-”
“You’re going to die, Elisif.” The blunt words cut off the comfort on Elisif’s tongue. “Vampires aren’t invincible. Your body suffered too much damage. You’re going to die.”
The orange eyes disappeared as Sybille ducked her head lower. A coffin of icy spikes snapped shut around Elisif’s still heart. “Wh- what?” she cried. She couldn’t die still. That wasn’t- She had done all this to avoid it! She didn’t want to die anymore!
“Elisif, you’re going to die.” Sybille took her hand again.
“A- a healing potion?”
“No, Elisif.”
“What about drinking blood?”
“The only blood present is that man’s, and it’s laced with poison.”
“Someone else’s?” Elisif looked pleadingly at Sybille.
“I wouldn’t be able to get someone in time. We’re too far.”
“Oh.” Elisif felt any vestige of strength leave her. “Oh.” She stared sightlessly at the ceiling again. “Then… I’ll go to Sovngarde after all.” And Torygg would be proud to have a wife who did something greater for Skyrim than he did. And all the Nordic heroes would welcome her. And Elisif would live in bliss and revelry for eternity. It was not… the worst fate.
“Elisif.” Sybille’s voice was so small and diminished Elisif could barely recognize it as hers. “…You can’t go anymore.” Her words were an ashamed mumble. “Vampires are destined for Oblivion. Coldharbour. You can’t-” her voice cracked. “You can’t go to Sovngarde, Elisif.”
Ah. So vampires could cry after all. Either that or Elisif’s eyes were bleeding now too. With how much everything hurt, she wouldn’t be surprised. But- This was so- She had done everything right! She wasn’t supposed to die! Not like this!
“There’s the potion in my pocket still,” Elisif wept miserably. “Help me drink it.”
“It won’t work Elisif.” There was despairing resignation in the syllables now.
“Cure me Sybille!” Elisif squeezed her vampire’s hand. “Please! Cure me! Cure me! Sybille! You have-”
Sybille snapped at her. “I can’t! I cannot do anything! Once you turn, it is all but impossible to change you back! You’re going to die and I can’t-!” Sybille tilted her head upward and blinked her eyes furiously. The brief impotent anger was gone. “I’m so sorry Elisif.”
Seconds of silence passed which might well have been days for all Elisif could tell. It all hurt. But a certain terrifying numbness was creeping over her too now, consuming her feet, legs, belly… Soon it would reach her head and- and that would be all. She knew it in her heart. She was going to die. She was never going to see Torygg again. She was-
“Sybille,” she whimpered. “I’m scared.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Elisif.”
“Stay with me?”
“Of course.” Tender lips pressed against the back of Elisif’s hand.
“Sybille.” Unfelt tears slipped down Elisif’s cheeks like great pearls. “Would you kiss me? I’ve wanted for so long-”
Elisif was silenced as Sybille caught her mouth in her own. Her vampire’s teeth had always imparted pricks of pain and leeched her life away. Yet now the fangs were secreted away, unfelt. Sybille did not even run her tongue along the blood staining Elisif’s lips. This was a kiss for her. And it was soft and warm and sweet. At last.