Edwyn Wickham stared up at the banner outside the door to Proudspire Manor, frowning. The nincompoops at the so-called Bard’s College next door hadn’t been any help at all. He had thought that at least the man holding the grandiose rank of Dean of History might have collected some volumes concerning, well, the history of Tamriel. Surely that would be a reasonable expectation of what was, in this era, considered a prestigious institution of learning. But no. While Girard Germane had been more than pleased to allow the Archmage to browse his “extensive collections” – really just a few bookshelves in an anteroom off the entrance – the collection only held titles with which Edwyn was already familiar and in some cases had read several times each. Edwyn was searching for clues that would undoubtedly be buried deep in some obscure tome or other that he had never encountered before.
No, it is going to require another trip to Winterhold, which is completely out of my way. I am not pleased.
He frowned and shook his head. Then he pushed open the mansion’s door and slipped inside.
As if their pathetic collection wasn’t bad enough, I only heard a single bard vocalizing while I was there. And he was singing “Ragnar the Red,” of all things. Surely someone in Skyrim must know some of the better music. The classics can’t possibly have disappeared altogether.
“Edwyn? Is that you, my love?”
Elisif’s light voice drifted down the stairwell – musically, he thought, grinning at his own cleverness. It was true, though. Elisif the Fair had a pleasant, lilting manner of speech that was a good match to his own. Having come into his adulthood in a much earlier time, one of much more flowery and formal patterns of discourse than were generally used these days, Edwyn sometimes worried that he was seen as stiff and unapproachable. Now, with Elisif at his side, he had decided that the two of them sounded royal.
“Yes, my dear, it is I. I shall be right up.” He took a deep breath and made a concerted effort to shake off his annoyance and put a more pleasant expression on his face. He cast a quick spell with his left hand and peered into a nearby glass. It wouldn’t do for his bride to be greeted by amber eyes and long white fangs. Someday, perhaps, it would become necessary to tell her what and who he truly was. That day was not yet at hand.
He climbed the stairs and met Elisif in their sitting room, gathering her up into his arms for a kiss. Once again, as she had on nearly every evening since they had married, Elisif made it clear that she had more than a simple greeting in mind, pressing herself up against him in a most provocative fashion. She took his hand and led him toward the base of the second flight, the one leading up to the beautifully-appointed bedroom.
“Again, my dear?” he said, smiling at her. Not that I am unwilling, not at all. No, he and Elisif were nothing if not compatible in this sense. It had been the factor that had allowed him to go forward with Lord Harkon’s plan with only the tiniest hesitation.
“As often as possible, my darling,” she said, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You know I can barely get enough of you. The long days at court are difficult to bear as I wait for the moment when I can return to Proudspire.”
They reached the area that served as an enchanting laboratory, just outside the bedroom, and she dropped his hand and turned to face him. “In all seriousness, Edwyn, the sooner we can begin a family, the better it will be for our status in Skyrim. And the way to do that is to do… this.” She smiled and giggled in her most appealing way.
“A… family,” he said slowly. I was afraid that was the case, but I was praying to Molag Bal himself that it wouldn’t be an issue quite so soon.
“Yes, my dear,” Elisif said in a crisp tone. “Of course, a family. An heir. Someone to continue the line as Jarl once the two of us are gone. Do you know, Torygg and I tried and tried and we simply couldn’t seem to conceive a child. I don’t quite know what the problem was. I do know, however, that the court is looking at me more closely every day. They have, how shall I put it? Expectations.”
Edwyn paused to think before replying. He didn’t want this conversation to go on at length, and he wasn’t certain that his sometimes odd sense of humor would come across as he intended. He smiled, though, and squeezed her hand.
“Perhaps you wore poor Torygg out, my dear,” he said as playfully as he could manage. “I don’t know what the prevailing medical wisdom is, but it would seem to me that after a time the quality of…” He paused as he detected a hint of steel creeping into Elisif’s gaze, and shook his head. “Never mind. You know that I am your humble servant.” He pulled her close again, into a more lingering kiss, and felt her slight annoyance with him dissolving. “Let us go make ourselves a family.”
He led her into the bedroom and began to undress, watching in appreciation as Elisif did the same. As she draped her clothing over one of the side tables, though, his gaze moved around the room. Once again, as so often happened, he couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of things had happened here when the previous owner had lived in it.
He grimaced internally. That, of course, was the other problem that nagged at him; the problem that did not involve obscure historical references. That previous owner – someone who had gone by the absurd name of Andante – had also preceded him as the Lord of Volkihar Castle, and Edwyn wanted to know how that particular thing had happened. It made no sense to him, given what a vastly powerful vampire Lord Harkon had been. It was the case, however, that the previous Lord of Volkihar had retrieved Auriel’s Bow. Even if Edwyn never used the bow – and he never intended to use it for all the reasons he had once explained to Lord Harkon – he needed to have it safely under his control so that nobody else could use it and, if he was completely honest about it, so that it could serve as a bludgeon if the situation required. Andante had been the last person to have custody of the bow, and he was now dead. Edwyn needed to understand what had happened. That was going to require, at the very least, a trip to Volkihar; a trip he was in no way looking forward to in spite of being the current Lord of the castle.
He plastered a smile on his face as he tossed his own clothing onto a chair and then turned to his wife, already awaiting him in their bed. “I am at your complete disposal, my dear,” he said, slipping under the covers next to her.
__
“And thus you see,” Edwyn said, “that I have a bit of a problem to deal with.”
“Only one, boss?” Vyctyna Tardif grinned at him. “It seems to me that you want to be in about four different places at the same time. How can we help?”
“It’s not just that, Tyna,” Agryn Gernic said. He gave her an indulgent smile, which made Edwyn smile in return. Agryn had always been a very serious man until he had met Vyctyna – almost morose, in fact, and definitely not given to levity. These days he practically radiated contentment; and it turned out that he had a very attractive smile that he used frequently, as well as a vigorous sense of humor.
“No? What am I missing, then?”
“Think about it, Tyna. What is it that we were just talking about recently?” Agryn prompted.
Vyctyna looked confused, and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Aggie, I have no idea what you mean.”
Agryn smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “Good thing we’re vampires, otherwise…”
Vyctyna’s eyes went very round as she realized what Agryn was talking about, and she blushed – at least to the extent a vampire’s pale skin could hold a blush. She turned to Edwyn.
“Oh, no, boss. She wants a baby and you’re… Seedless.”
Edwyn chuckled, even though it wasn’t really a laughing matter. “Indeed. I lost my ability to father a child several hundred years ago, a condition which has served me very well indeed over the years. However, it is a bit of a stumbling block at present. The problem is: how I am going to give Elisif what she wants.”
Agryn coughed, and looked away grinning.
“Aggie, good grief,” Vyctyna snorted. “Hmm. There must be something that can be done. Can you adopt a child?”
“Well yes, of course we could do that,” Edwyn said, “but what she is really looking for is a child of her own body. She is right to be thinking in these terms, of course. What the nobles in her court want more than anything else is an heir to the throne of Solitude, a child to which they can point and say ‘this is the true royalty of Skyrim, issued from the rightful High Queen, and whereas Ulfric Stormcloak is not suited for the throne, here in Solitude we have an intact royal family!’” He sighed and shook his head. “I can think of only a limited number of solutions to this problem, several of which are out of the question.”
“I can’t think of any,” Vyctyna said. “What am I missing?” She walked into the kitchen, shaking her head.
Agryn watched her pacing back and forth and then looked up at Edwyn. “Illusion magic. That’s the only thing I can think of. Am I near the mark at all?”
Edwyn nodded. “We’ve been working together far too long, Agryn; you now seem to have developed the ability to read my mind.” They grinned at each other. “The truth is that may be the only choice open to us. I could convince her that she is with child, but that would only last for a short period of time before it would be obvious to all that no child exists. I could tell the woman what I am and confess that I have no way to create a child with her, but I fear that would be far from satisfactory.”
“You could turn her,” Vyctyna said from the other room.
“I could, but then the problem of being unable to produce a physical heir would be twofold.”
“Oh, of course,” Vyctyna said. “That was silly of me.”
“So you’re looking for a stand-in,” Agryn said.
“Yes.” Edwyn nodded slowly. “It will require me to use one of the oldest forms of magic, a type of illusion that is not often used any longer – a glamour.”
Agryn nodded slowly. “Kind of like our vampiric illusion spell but cast on someone else. That makes sense.”
“Yes. I already have the ability to make myself look as I did when I was a human. This situation will require me to give that same appearance to another person while simultaneously controlling his body.”
“Yikes, boss,” Vyctyna said. “That’s a lot to do all at the same time.”
Edwyn nodded. “It is. And yet, in spite of conjuration being my primary forte in magic I do have at my command nearly all illusion magic. I am reasonably confident that I can perform the necessary spells.”
“Yeah, but how are you going to get someone to go along with it?” Vyctyna asked, coming to stand before Edwyn.
“Well, my dear,” he said slowly, “that is where you come in. Do you suppose that you could find a likely substitute for me – same general height and build? It would be good if the subject also had grey eyes and a similar coloring because, after all, he will be the actual father. It wouldn’t do for Elisif’s child to arrive looking like a dark-haired Imperial. A Breton would be ideal but I can’t ask for everything at once.”
Vyctyna looked him over slowly and nodded. “Yes, I can do that. And I suppose you want me to…”
“Enthrall him, yes. I can’t imagine him being willing to follow through on such a scheme otherwise – and it may take any number of attempts. This is why I am sending you to do this task rather than Agryn. Agryn is perfectly capable of creating thralls but you are uniquely qualified for this particular endeavor by virtue of being female and very attractive.”
He smiled at Agryn, who was frowning at the direction the conversation had taken. “Don’t worry, I will never ask her to do anything inappropriate. You must admit, though, that if the object is to find a male subject ready and willing to procreate, she has a much better chance of success than either of us.”
Agryn chuckled, and his expression relaxed. “Yes. It’s true. So let me get this straight. Tyna gets a thrall, you cast an illusion spell on him and stand back while he makes love to your wife, and we all hope she ‘catches’ quickly.”
“Roughly. If I can manage it I will control his mind so that it is I who is performing the act, using his body instead of my own. It will seem less impersonal that way and she should not notice any major differences. I hope. It’s an imperfect plan but it is the best thing I can devise at the moment.”
He stepped across the room to the table nearby and poured a drink of water from one of the pitchers. Sipping it, he returned to his companions and cleared his throat.
“Now then. That will potentially resolve one of the problems. The others require more research, and travel. At this point I must do the traveling on my own.” He looked at his two companions and smiled. “I shall leave at once for Castle Volkihar. When Elisif returns this evening, please tell her that I was called away on business and will return as soon as possible. That is certainly the case. She will assume I’m in Winterhold. If she asks, feel free to tell her the truth: I have not divulged the purpose of my business to you.” He turned toward the door.
“For I have not,” he murmured half to himself.
__
Edwyn took the steps up to what had once been Lord Harkon’s private chambers two at a time. Garan Marethi had met him near the doors to the castle and said that he’d last seen Serana heading in that direction; and while Edwyn was not in any sense looking forward to sharing his news with her he had, as always, an overwhelming desire to simply be in the same room with her.
Serana was examining one of the books her father had left behind and looked up as she heard him enter. She smiled, set the book aside and came around to stand before the fireplace, where Edwyn met her and pulled her near.
“Eddie. I wondered where you’d been. It’s been awhile.”
“I know, my darling girl, and I have missed you more than I could possibly say.” Edwyn leaned forward and swept her into a kiss that went on a tiny bit longer than was perhaps proper. She didn’t seem to object, though; when they finally pulled apart she was smiling happily and so was he.
“So what have you been up to while I’ve been rattling about the castle?” she said, in that manner she had that told Edwyn he was not going to be able to avoid getting the matter settled right then and there. “It’s definitely been a bore. Mother only needs so much help with her garden, and I’m approaching the end of Father’s book collection.”
Damn. I had hoped that perhaps we could have one quiet evening together before I had to break the news, but I suppose that was never going to happen.
“Why don’t we sit down, Serana?” he said, lowering himself gingerly into the throne where Harkon had sat for so many centuries.
Serana sat down at the edge of the chair next to him, but leaning forward, her hands on her knees, in a posture that said she’d picked up on his hesitation and knew she was going to hear bad news. She turned to stare at him. He couldn’t quite bring himself to return the gaze other than giving her a quick glance that verified that yes, she was prepared to be angry and that he was going to have a bad time of it.
“Alright. I’m sitting. What exactly do you have to say to me?”
Edwyn sighed. This is going to hurt.
“Well. As you know, your father Lord Harkon had taken me into his confidence for a very long time.”
“Yes, but he’s dead now, Eddie. I helped kill him. It doesn’t make me happy, but it had to be done.”
Edwyn winced. “I must admit that it hurts to know you had to participate in that, Serana, but I understand why you did. But before he became – preoccupied, shall we say?”
“Obsessed,” Serana grumbled.
“Alright, obsessed then – with the prophecies regarding Auriel’s Bow, he had tasked me with a number of projects designed to further a larger goal.”
“And that was? Which one? Let’s see, destroying all the other vampire clans in Tamriel?”
Edwyn nodded. “That was certainly part of it, Serana. That was why I spent so very many years in Cyrodiil. You know how secretive the Vampyrum Order is…”
“Yes, yes, they infiltrate all the institutions of power and gain influence that way. Through, like, actual work. As opposed to the ham-fisted military option our Nord friends seem to prefer.”
Edwyn couldn’t help but smile. “Well, yes, to be blunt about it. Your father asked me to extend the Volkihar’s influence in Cyrodiil. To slowly supplant the Vampyrum Order in the houses of influence. I’ve been doing so ever since; very slowly, to be certain, but I’ve been working on it. I met Agryn Gernic and created him as my right hand, in much the same way your father set me in the same position. Together we have been making significant inroads into the politics of Cyrodiil and other provinces, by taking slow and measured footsteps whenever we could.”
He shifted uneasily in the throne. His Archmage’s armor was impressive to look at, to be certain, and carried enchantments important to his continued existence, but its heavy pauldrons were not in the least comfortable. In fact, he found himself sweating in the armor, a nervous sweat that had nothing at all to do with the heat of the fireplace.
“In the meantime, I have used my natural abilities as a mage to infiltrate and to some extent disrupt the various schools of magic throughout Tamriel. This was also done with your father’s knowledge and approval. I managed to set the College of Whispers and the Synod against each other to an even greater extent than they had been, and then I came back to Skyrim. Harkon encouraged me to take over the College of Winterhold, most recently, because he saw its weaknesses. There was unrest beginning to erupt among the membership of the College; a sentiment that it was time for a change in leadership. It was a more difficult project than I had originally envisioned, actually.”
“I hear that the Psijic Order got involved at some point,” Serana said; and when Edwyn glanced at her, startled by this, she shrugged. “News travels, Eddie, even when you’ve been out of the loop for as long as I was.”
“Yes, of course. And you are correct. They removed an artifact from Skyrim that has been here for many ages and which had grown quite unstable. I helped to discover it, unfortunately, and then I…” He stopped and shook his head. “That’s neither here nor there. What is pertinent, though, is the fact that as your father wished, I became the Archmage.”
“And this has what to do with you being gone for the past several weeks?” Serana said.
“I’m getting to that, my darling,” he murmured. She’s getting impatient, and who can blame her, but once she knows I am a dead man. A – more thoroughly dead man.
“Harkon wanted to consolidate as much power in Tamriel as possible before making his move,” he said quietly.
“I know he did. And?”
“With the return of the dragons and the increasing hostilities in Skyrim, it was clear that the time was approaching to make his move. And then, not long before you were released from your confinement according to everything I’ve been able to gather, someone created the vacuum of power that we had all been waiting for. Someone removed Titus Meade II as well as, according to all the rumors, the member of the Elder Council who was behind the assassination. I have no idea who did it, but we are all in his debt.”
“And we still have no Emperor.”
“No, and this is one of the longest delays since that following the death of Pelagius the Second. It is my understanding and assumption that the vacancy in the Elder Council is contributing to that delay. Meanwhile, we have had the civil war here in Skyrim come to a close. And of course you were found, along with Auriel’s Bow.”
Edwyn leaned forward onto his arms and clasped his hands together tightly, trying not to wring them too obviously. It wouldn’t do to reveal his nervousness at this point.
“Yes, and what a shame that Andante seems to have lost it along with his life,” Serana said in a sour tone. “Probably a good thing, though, right? We didn’t need that business to continue and I’m pleased to keep my blood inside me where it belongs.”
“Yes. Of course,” Edwyn said, daring to slip a glance her way, “it would be a very bad thing if that Bow fell into the wrong hands. I don’t suppose you have any hints about where it might have gone?”
“No, I don’t.” Her tone allowed no room for further discussion.
Edwyn simply nodded. “What can you tell me about that situation, Serana? I understand he had a companion…”
“Why does it matter? Neither one of them will be darkening our door again. Andante is in a jar somewhere, according to my contact, and his partner has returned to his former life. If he were to come anywhere near us the underlings would have him for lunch. It’s not worth worrying about. Now what were you saying about the power vacuum?”
So much for wheedling any additional information about the Andante character. Well, it was worth a try, I suppose.
“Your father wished for one or the other of us to become Emperor of Tamriel,” he said bluntly.
Serana’s eyes got very round for a moment.
“Emperor? Seriously?” She stood and took a few turns around the room. “I always knew he was power-hungry but that goes far beyond what I had imagined him capable of. And now he’s gone.”
Edwyn rose from the throne and stood awaiting her next words. Serana came back to stand just a few paces in front of him and peered at him, her eyes narrowed.
“And you’re all that’s left. But, see, this is where it gets interesting, isn’t it? Because Ulfric Stormcloak defeated the Imperial Legion, and now he is just waiting to be named High King. Something extreme would have to happen in order for him to be passed by for that honor.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at Edwyn.
“What have you done, Eddie?”
“What your father wanted me to do. What I promised him that I would do.”
“And that is?”
“I married Elisif.”
There was a very long, perfect silence in the room.
“You… married Elisif, the Jarl of Solitude.”
“Yes. I’m very sorry.” I closed my eyes, when I was saying my vows, and I pictured your face, my darling Serana. You, and only you. Now and forever.
Serana’s face revealed absolutely nothing. She nodded.
“I see.” Then she turned and strode toward the doorway. “Never approach me again, Edwyn Wickham. You are not welcome in my company.”
“Serana…”
Edwyn watched her leave, his heart aching. Elisif’s mortal life would seem like a mere moment to the two of them, if only she would wait for him. And yet, what reason does she have to wait for me? All I have ever done is leave her, even if it was for the best of all possible reasons, at the request of my Lord.
Gods damn it.
Edwyn ground his teeth as he stomped his way out of the castle and summoned Arvak. They galloped across the Sea of Ghosts, past Solitude, and on toward the College of Winterhold.
Edwyn had more research to do.
