“So, he truly is Dragonborn, in the ancient sense of the word?” Edwyn asked, looking up from his volume. Agryn was nodding vigorously.
“That’s what she told me, my lord. She’s heard others refer to him as Dragonborn, including the people in his household. The Jarl of Falkreath and his staff refer to him as Dragonborn. More importantly, she has witnessed him absorbing the energy from a dying dragon.”
“Really.” Edwyn smiled slowly. “Now that is in fact an intriguing bit of information.” He stood and began tracing a slow path around the Archmage’s quarters where he’d asked Agryn to meet him, where he’d gone to continue his research and remove himself from the possibility of Elisif discovering that it wasn’t him she’d been with.
The Dragonborn throughout the ages have been exceedingly rare, but especially gifted. They were, so it seems, able to use the power of the dragon tongue without any particular training. They were able to absorb a dragon’s power. Some say they are dragons themselves, in human form. And only those of the bloodline of the Dragonborn were considered legitimate Emperors.
I know not where the truth lies with respect to this magical ability but I do know that power flows with the blood. It was thus with Molag Bal’s gift to the vampire lord. It was thus with Hircine’s gift to the were folk. I see no reason why it should not be the case that the power of the Dragonborn also flows in the blood.
How much of his blood I would need, I don’t know. However, I do know how to ensure that whatever I need is readily available to me.
Edwyn turned to his most trusted lieutenant and smiled. “Agryn, it is time that I share my thoughts on this matter with you. And then…” he trailed off, rubbing his hands together.
“And then?”
“It has been a very long time since I have had a proper hunt. I believe it is time for me to make a thrall of my own.”
“Sir?”
Edwyn nodded. “I see no reason to rely solely on the chance that our friend Geor is successful in his rather strenuous efforts to get Elisif with child in order to secure the High Throne of Skyrim. How good it would be to also provide the Empire with a candidate who carries the blood of the true Emperors, yes?”
Agryn found a chair and dragged it near to the one Edwyn favored. He waved at Edwyn’s chair.
“Tell me.”
___
“No one can doubt that you truly are Dragonborn!” Roggi exclaimed once again, as the great forest dragon crackled and burned beside them.
“Yeah, yeah. That and ten septims will get me a tankard of ale.” Dardeh grinned as the last of the beast’s energy flowed into him. It had surprised them heading west out of Helgen, and by the time they’d won it had become a cloudy, and thus very dark, night.
A tankard of ale, unwanted attention – and more power than any one man really ought to have at his disposal. And yet, how many times over would I be dead if not for Roggi? My life is entirely too strange.
You were right to choose him, my sweet boy.
Dardeh blinked. It had been a very long time since he’d heard his mother’s comforting voice in his mind.
Ma?
Yes, Dar. Take care of Roggi. He is a good man, in spite of everything he says to deny it.
I know he is, Ma. He’s my reason for being.
Yes, he is. You’re on the right path, Dardeh. You’re doing a good thing, the two of you.
Dardeh jumped when Roggi’s warm hand came down on his shoulder.
“You ok, Dar?” He leaned close, for it was very dark outside. Dardeh jumped.
“Yeah. Yeah I am. I just heard my Ma. In my head.”
Roggi’s expression grew even more concerned. “Aw Dar, not again? More things nobody else can see or hear?”
Dardeh laughed. “Now come on, love of my life. You know my mother has been known to tell me things in my dreams. This time she told me you’re a good man.”
Roggi dropped his hand from Dardeh’s shoulder and snorted. “You weren’t dreaming. And I think all this dragon energy is doing things to your mind. Me, a good man? Come on, let’s get going.”
Dardeh smiled, and followed Roggi back down the slope where they’d killed the dragon and onto the roadway. “Well, you are. And my Ma would know good when she saw it.” He reached for Roggi’s hand and stopped him for a moment. “She told me that she knew you were the one a long time before we ever so much as kissed, Roggi. She knew.” He leaned forward and caressed Roggi’s lips with his own, smiling internally at Roggi’s immediate – and very positive – reaction. The moment seemed to last much longer than it actually was; then Roggi pulled back.
“You know, this is great and all,” he said, his voice slightly husky, “but we probably should get home and out of the dark where we’re vampire bait.”
Dardeh laughed. “True. Let’s go.” They started back down the road toward the far end of the lake. “Besides, I want to make a new sword.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Dardeh glanced down at the blades he’d been carrying for months and nodded. “I love this long blade but I’m better with scimitars. It’s what I grew up with. I’ll never use my father’s swords again but this ebony beast I made – it feels right in the hand. I’m going to make another one.”
“You are pretty good with it,” Roggi agreed. “The longer I know you, the more Redguard you become.”
Dardeh chuckled. “Well, I guess it could be worse. It seems as though a lot of the power comes from that side of my heritage.”
Roggi snorted. “And Talos was a Nord.”
“But Talos wasn’t my da.”
“All right, you win, Dragonborn. Listen, let’s stop at the inn in Falkreath and see whether we can find out anything about this Reinhardt guy.”
Dead Man’s Drink was doing a thriving business when they stopped in. It was noisy, and smoky, and the bard was singing over the voices of many people trying to chat and drink and laugh. Dardeh had to smile. It was good to see life returning to some semblance of normalcy after the war, although he did catch a bit of conversation about the Thalmor and Talos worship.
That’s a bit of a concern. It won’t really be over until we rid ourselves of the Thalmor, will it. I hate to admit it, but Ulfric is right about that – they’re bound to return in force.
He looked around and spotted an unfamiliar face, on a man seated at one of the tables.
“Hi. Are you Reinhardt?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Dardeh. Marcus Jannus sent us to check on his lumber shipments.”
The man looked up at him – nervously, Dardeh thought – and then covered his expression by taking a drink from his tankard. Once he was done he nodded, and smiled.
“Marcus Jannus? Ah yes, the fellow from Chorrol. Well, tell him we’re short-handed on help right now, but we’re getting to him as quickly as we can. Bolund has injured his back and is convalescing, so I don’t have anyone to work the mill. I’m trying to hire more help, but I haven’t had any luck.” He nodded again, and smiled at Dardeh as if he assumed that would be the end of the conversation.
“Uh huh,” Dardeh said, nodding. “And you would have told Marcus that… when, exactly?”
“Look, if you want your lumber any faster, you’ll have to saw the logs yourself. Then I can send them to be cut into your lumber. Let’s see now, looks like his first order would be for roughly fifteen timbers, so that should get you started.”
“Hang on now. You want me to saw the logs we already paid for?”
The man frowned. “No one has paid me anything in full; I was only paid a deposit.”
Dardeh felt warmth just behind him and grinned, knowing that Roggi must be there giving the man one of his special looks. Reinhardt swallowed hard and looked back up at Dardeh.
“But… I can adjust the final price to reflect your sweat equity.”
“That would be the least you could do,” Dardeh said dryly.
“I will make sure you get a fair price given the nature of my current situation. It’s only fifteen logs. It won’t take any time.”
“That’s not the point, Reinhardt.” Dardeh sighed. “Alright, but it had best be a really big discount. I hear Riverwood is looking for contracts, and I know them better than I know you.”
Reinhardt shook his head vehemently. “No need to get hasty. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Dardeh nodded, and turned to find Roggi. He’d stepped closer to the bard, who was singing a plaintive rendition of “Tales of the Tongues.”
“You ready?”
Roggi shook his head and nodded toward the bard. “He dedicated it to you.”
The bard had nearly reached the end of the song. “If Alduin is eternal, then eternity’s done; for his story is over and the dragons are gone.”
Dardeh snorted. “Well he shouldn’t have. Alduin’s gone, but the dragons certainly aren’t, prophecies and legends be damned.”
Roggi took his hand. “Dar. You still killed Alduin. That means you saved us all. Let the bard sing in your honor if he feels it right to do.”
___
The next morning dawned gray and rainy. Dardeh kept swinging his new scimitar all the way back to the lumberyard, testing its balance and weight. It was a good sword, and it matched the other.
He walked up the ramp to the saw and threw the lever to get things started. The mechanism clunked and whirred, and Dardeh sighed in resignation. It didn’t matter how big he was, or how used to hard work; wrestling the logs down into the saw was strenuous and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He stepped back to reach for the logging hook and turned, nearly running into a man, a Nord, who looked familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time.
“Hmm. So Reinhardt finally found someone who will work for free? Nice. I tell you, that man has no shame.”
Dardeh blinked. It was obvious this person was related to Bolund, the former mill owner; they looked enough alike to be brothers.
“Wait. Work for free? What are you talking about? And who are you?”
“I’m Rolund. Since my cousin Bolund has been down on his back I came to fill in for him. But I haven’t been paid in weeks!”
“Why not?” Roggi was standing behind the man, and the wary tone of his voice had Dardeh concerned as well.
Rolund snorted. “I have an idea, but I can’t prove it. I’ve probably said too much already. You’d better get to work – those logs aren’t going to saw themselves.”
He turned to leave, but Roggi was standing behind him blocking his path. He didn’t exactly loom over Rolund, but it was clear that the man wasn’t going anywhere right away.
“Just because Reinhardt can’t pay you doesn’t mean we can’t.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“A thousand gold,” Roggi said, pulling a fat purse of coin out from the folds of his armor and bouncing it in his hand a few times. It made a very satisfying chinking sound, and Rolund’s eyes began to sparkle.
“Roggi, that’s…” Dardeh sputtered.
“No, Dar, it’s ok. I’ll pay him. I have a feeling about this.”
“I’ll take it,” Rolund said. “That’s a generous offer and the folks in Helgen deserve their lumber delivery.”
“Right,” Roggi said. “Now tell us about this Reinhardt.”
Rolund laughed, a brief, humorless burst of sound. “Well I can tell you there’s nothing wrong with Bolund’s back. We just told Reinhardt that because we refuse to work for free. That damn idiot keeps gambling away all our money!”
“What?” Dardeh felt the embers of anger in him starting to warm. “What are you talking about, gambling?”
“It’s that damn Fight Cave. He’s addicted to it. He’s lost all his money gambling on those damn fights. He doesn’t have any money to pay me, so I ain’t working until he can pay. Ask Reinhardt if you want to know any more. Tell him I said anything, and I’ll deny it.”
“Yeah, we get it,” Roggi mumbled, handing Rolund a coin purse. “That’s half. The rest when the lumber’s done and you can trust us. He’s the Jarl’s Thane.”
Rolund nodded, and pointed out a home halfway up the hill behind the lumberyard as being Reinhardt’s. Then he took the hook out of Dardeh’s hands. As Dardeh and Roggi started up the hill toward the house, they heard the familiar sounds of a grunt of exertion and a loud thud as Rolund pulled the first of the great logs from the stack and settled it into the saw’s trough.
Dardeh pounded on the door, and then led the way inside when they heard Reinhardt shout for them to come in. He watched with amusement as Reinhardt’s expression changed, seeing who it was that had come to visit. He’d been standing near the cookpot, stirring something savory, and he suddenly grew even busier with the stirring and mixing. Dardeh was amused. He’d never set out to be an intimidating man, but that did in fact seem to be how his life had evolved.
“You lied to me,” he said quietly, but in a tone that would tell Reinhardt he meant business. “I know about the Fight Cave.”
The man turned to glance at him, his eyes wide. “Ah! Those cousins, always running off at the mouth. That Rolund doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Roggi stepped out from behind Dardeh and laughed. “Oh, he knows what he’s talking about. He’s willing to work, but he says you can’t pay him.”
“And we know you already got a deposit for the lumber,” Dardeh added.
“Arrrgh.” Reinhardt shook his head. “I’m sorry I lied to you. You had me trapped down there at the inn and I didn’t know what to do. But maybe you can help me out of this problem I’m in?”
“Why should we help you, you liar?” Roggi growled. Reinhardt swallowed hard.
“Because unless you do, it could be weeks before that lumber gets delivered to Helgen. Rolund is right. I’m broke, and I can’t pay anyone for their work.”
“And our deposit?” Dardeh said.
“Lost it. Gone. Went on a bad run in the Fight Cave. But that’s where you can help me.”
Roggi and Dardeh exchanged a look. Roggi raised an eyebrow.
Dardeh sighed. “Alright, spill.”
Reinhardt’s expression brightened a bit. “I take my last bit of gold and bet on you. You fight and win enough times, and I’ll make my money back! And you keep your earnings from the Pit.”
“Ok,” Dardeh said, “What’s this Pit?”
“It’s like an Arena. Men fight, people bet, try to win money. The fighters are paid if they win. If they lose, well, you know…”
“Fight to the death?” Roggi asked, stroking his beard with one hand.
“Exactly. You use any armor, weapon or magic you like, but no Giants or creatures are allowed.”
Dardeh and Roggi stared at each other for what felt like a long while, trying to come to an understanding. Finally Roggi nodded.
“Alright, we’ll do it,” Dardeh said. “How do I get in?”
“You have to have a recommendation. Take this letter to Goreau. It’s from a friend of mine in Cyrodiil. It was for another fighter that, uh, met an untimely end; so don’t ask questions. The cave’s a little ways down the west road out of town. Looks like a mine entrance, but it’s not.”
“I know where that is. We pass it all the time,” Roggi said, nodding.
“One last thing,” Reinhardt said. “We must have no further contact until all of this is over. Once I get my money back, I’m done with that Pit for good. If you try to talk to me in the cave I won’t know you.”
“Uh-huh,” Dardeh said, taking the letter from him.
“Double cross us and you’re a dead man,” Roggi growled.
Reinhardt threw his hands up in front of his body in a defensive posture. “Hey, hey, hey! Calm down! You think I don’t know that? I just want to get back on my feet.”
“And we want Helgen back on its feet,” Dardeh said. “So no funny business. You really don’t want to know how I take out my enemies.” He watched in satisfaction and a fair amount of amusement as all the color drained out of Reinhardt’s face.
“Let’s go,” Roggi said, heading out the door.
Dardeh followed him, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Roggi. Fight to the death?”
Roggi laughed. “And you with your Shouts and a flame wraith? I think you’ll be fine. Of course, if you’d rather have an actual brawler handle it for you, I’d be more than happy to do the honors. I, uh, may or may not have tried my luck at a few similar contests before. I know the ropes.”
Dardeh laughed. “Something else I’ve never heard about? You never cease to amaze me.”
Roggi grinned at him. “I did a lot of things when I was a young man, Dar. That’s part of the reason they noticed me when I joined up.”
“Yeah, but fight to the death?”
“Of course. Listen, what else do we do when we take on a dragon? Get hurt, you heal up and continue. If you fail, it’s over and there’s nothing to be done about it.”
Dardeh stopped him by reaching out a hand. “And that’s exactly why it worries me, love. I don’t know what I would do if…”
He was about to continue, but heard a female voice yelling his name.
“Dardeh? Dardeh!”
He peered down the road and saw Rayya running as hard as she could toward them. She pulled up, breathing hard, and put out a hand to steady herself on Dardeh’s arm.
“I’m sorry, my… Thane,” she said, panting. “You must come. Dragon.”
“Where?”
“Out on the plains, between Gavrostead and Rorikstead. They sent a man to the house to get you but he couldn’t run anymore, so here I am. Please hurry.”
Dardeh turned to Roggi.
“What do we do now?”
Roggi shook his head. “There’s only one thing we can do, Dar. You go and get the dragon. I’ll go deal with the Pit.”
Warning bells were ringing in Dardeh’s head. Take care of him, Ma said. I can’t take care of him if I’m off fighting a dragon!
“No, Roggi, we can’t…”
Roggi stopped him with a quick kiss. “Dar. Go. I’ll be fine. Helgen needs the lumber, soon, and you’re the only one who can kill a dragon. We can take care of two things at once. Go, before the dragon kills more people!”
Dardeh pulled away reluctantly and handed Roggi the letter Reinhardt had given him. “Alright. Rayya, lead the way. Roggi… you be careful. I can’t lose you.”
Roggi smiled. “Don’t worry, Dar. It’ll take more than a fight pit to get rid of me.”
Rayya tugged on his arm, and Dardeh turned to follow her back through Falkreath. They both settled into the ground-covering lope that saved both time and energy. It was going to be dark by the time they reached the tundra as it was.
___
Edwyn Wickham and Agryn Gernic crouched in the shadows outside Broken Fang Cave. They’d gone inside earlier and cleared out a number of what Edwyn considered lower-class vampires, Edwyn having enjoyed the taste of the Nightlord’s remaining blood very much in spite of it. He intended to keep his newest thrall in that very cave for the time being; it would be quite comfortable for him, and out of sight of all the problematic authorities.
“It’s getting dark,” he said. “Are you certain that they will be here?”
“As certain as I can be,” Agryn said. “The woman was discontented with her assignment to the Dragonborn’s household to begin with, and as a thrall she is more than happy to do anything I ask. I impressed on her that it was of the utmost importance to bring him back here just as soon as possible. It should be any time now.”
“And he’ll be alone?”
Agryn shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine his husband would be much of an issue for either of us to subdue, though I’d prefer not to have to test that out. He’s a pretty substantial Nord.”
Edwyn raised an eyebrow and snorted derisively. “One of those, then?”
“Sir?”
Edwyn chuckled. “I’ve never understood men who love men. There are so many lovely women in the world. Well, at least it’s not something … contagious. His blood will still be Dragonborn blood, regardless.”
Agryn cleared his throat. “That was, in fact, one of the reasons the housecarl was so easy to persuade. It seems that she was rather smitten of the man. And he …”
“Turned her down, I have no doubt of it. As long as it made her pliable, it’s all the same to me.”
They were quiet for a few moments. Edwyn’s excitement was building. Would Harkon have been pleased with him, that he had come upon another potential way to gain the prize they’d been seeking all those many centuries? It was good that the union with Elisif had gone to plan, but there was no guarantee that the Nords would react as they’d both expected. This would give them an extra edge, another path to the goal. He was lost in thought, remembering conversations he’d had with Harkon about their joint enterprise, when Agryn tapped his arm.
“Up there. See?” He pointed toward the roadway a goodly distance to the south. “Figures. Two of them. They’re some distance away but I’m going to bet that’s them.”
Edwyn squinted. There were indeed two figures moving down out of the hills and onto the tundra. He grinned behind the black mask he’d donned, not wanting to chance being recognized, and ran his tongue over his substantial fangs. It had been a long while since he’d anticipated the taste of blood quite so much.
“Get ready, my friend.”
“I am.” Agryn drew his sword and gathered the red glow of his life-draining magic into his left hand. “I’m always ready for this kind of a fight.”
___
The light was fading fast when Dardeh and Rayya dropped down from the hills onto the tundra. As they did, he slowed to a stop and cocked his head to one side, listening.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“It was farther out on the plains, my Thane. Please come quickly.”
He turned to frown at her.
“Rayya, I don’t see a dragon and I don’t hear a dragon. I can hear a dragon from leagues away at this point.”
“Please, my lord. It was out here just burning everything within reach.”
Dardeh ran his hand up over his head and through his hair, scratching his scalp through the thick, unruly bunches of it. “Honestly. How many times have I told you not to call me ‘my lord,’ or ‘my Thane,’ or ‘Dragonborn?’”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Rayya said apologetically.
Dardeh was more than a little annoyed with her. But she looked at him with those enormous eyes, and the adoring expression she’d given him ever since she’d met him, and he just sighed.
I don’t understand women. I don’t understand men being with women. Well – I do, but I don’t. But those eyes… They’re so hard to ignore.
“I swear to Talos, if you’ve dragged me all the way down here for nothing, Rayya, I’m going to be more than a little upset. Roggi’s putting himself on the line and I can’t be there to help him because of this. I don’t know what I’ll do if he gets hurt.”
Actually, he won’t get hurt. If he loses, it will be because he’s dead, and… His throat began to close up just thinking about it. If he dies, I may as well be dead myself.
If he dies, so does Reinhardt.
Rayya shook her head. “Roggi will be fine. I know it. He’s such a fine fighter; you know he’ll be fine. But you’re the only one who can do this. You’re the Dragonborn!”
She sounded so earnest. She looked so concerned. Dardeh sighed, and scanned the horizon once more. There was so little light in the sky that it was almost impossible to tell what was where; but he could see the occasional bird or bat as it zipped across the plains. If there was a dragon, surely he’d see at least its shadow in front of the brightening stars.
“Ok, let’s go. Maybe it’s landed for the moment. I still don’t hear it but I’m not willing to let a dragon get away if I can get rid of it.”
“Good. Good. Follow me,” she said, heading off into the grasslands. He followed, watching her at first and then listening to the sounds of her footsteps in front of him as the light faded and night began to close in.
They ran for a good long while. Dardeh’s discomfort increased with every minute that passed. A dragon should have sensed the Dovahkiin’s presence. It should have been circling, looking for him, getting ready to assert its dominance over him in the same way he was readying himself to fight it; but he sensed nothing. Then the quality of the sounds returning to him changed. They were nearing something –a hill, or a building, or something that deadened the sounds of their passage.
It’s not right. Something isn’t right about this. It’s…
“There you are!” he heard in front of him. He slammed his hood down over his head and pulled his ebony scimitars as a figure stepped toward him out of the dark.
It was a Breton – a handsome one, a small part of Dardeh’s mind observed – wearing lightweight leather armor with red cloth sleeves beneath bronzed pauldrons. He knew this armor, or at least armor very like it; for both Andante and Brynjolf had worn similar clothing when they were together. Even as Dardeh was recognizing that it was going to be yet another vampire battle, the man extended his left hand and began casting in Dardeh’s direction.
And then something happened that Dardeh was not expecting. Rayya began moving toward the vampire, but not as quickly as he would have thought she would to attack the creature.
“Rayya! Move!” he bellowed.
The Breton bared his fangs and laughed. “Yes, Rayya. Move aside.”
Dardeh thought he heard Rayya speaking, but he wasn’t sure what she was saying. “…as you asked,” he thought he heard.
Something isn’t right. What is happening?
“Time to come with us to your new life, Dragonborn,” the vampire said, stepping toward him. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it a great deal.”
Oh shit.
Dardeh backpedaled into the darkness behind him. He was completely confused. It was a vampire closing in on him, a strong one if he was any judge at all of such things, and he couldn’t see more than a few paces in front of himself. And somewhere Rayya was near the vampire and probably in danger.
He didn’t think about it. He wasn’t even aware of his body building its energy to react. He simply did what he, the Dragonborn, had become and what he, the Dragonborn, could do better than anyone else in the known world.
“YOL – TOOR SHUL!”
He couldn’t see a thing when the flames enveloped the area in front of him; but he knew he had reached his target. He heard the Breton shriek, and swear, and yell something he couldn’t quite make out as the words of power echoed through the narrow gap in the stones before him and bounced back to him. He heard another shriek, too; a lower voice, as though there was someone else waiting there. He shielded his eyes from the flames and squinted into the darkness, but he’d managed to destroy his own night vision as well as damage the target. What he definitely didn’t see, though, was the red light of the vampiric drain spell, or the vibrant yellow glow of a vampire’s eyes.
He waited for a moment, crouched close to the ground, his swords ready – and listened. It was nearly silent; all he heard was the crackling of the small patches of burning grass he’d ignited. He waited, for what seemed like an interminable length of time but was probably just a few moments. Then he slowly rose from his crouch.
“Rayya?” He whispered the name as loudly as he could manage.
It was still silent.
“Rayya, are you there?”
He started moving slowly toward where he’d last seen her. She’d been on the right, to his outside.
What just happened here? What in actual Oblivion just…
He tripped.
And almost fell.
And he looked down, and saw a scorched set of steel armor at his feet.
“Oh, no.”
He knelt down and looked at the still form, very badly burned, over which he had nearly fallen.
“Oh, no, no, no.”
The Alik’r hood she had worn was still there, but very badly damaged. The smell of burned flesh rose from the ground, assaulting his nose.
“No, Rayya. No. Please, no.”
He reached out and touched her still body, the heat still radiating from the steel armor, nearly burning his hand. He knew she wouldn’t respond to his voice, or his touch, because he’d seen too many enemies fall to his Thu’um before. Still, he shook her shoulder; and as he did, tears started streaming down his face.
“I’m so sorry, Rayya. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m so sorry.”
He sat there with her for what felt like an eternity. After a few minutes of utter numbness, thoughts started swirling.
She led me here. Not up the road where the dragons usually have hovered. She led me here, where that vampire was waiting, and maybe someone else as well.
He ran it through his mind again. What had they said? The vampire told her to move aside, and used her name as though he already knew it. She had moved toward him, slowly and had said…
As you asked. That’s what she told him.
He was controlling her.
He slowly withdrew his hand, and rose to his feet once again.
She led me here to that vampire because she was a thrall. There’s no dragon here. There never was a dragon here. That vampire got to her somehow, somewhere. And she was going to…
He blinked several times, and wiped his eyes roughly with his gloved hand. He replayed what he’d heard, in his mind. “Welcome to your new life, Dragonborn,” the vampire had said.
He was going to try to turn me. Or enthrall me. Because I’m Dragonborn.
And she led me to him.
He turned back to the south and started running, numbly, not looking from side to side or focusing on anything other than the ground before his feet. He ran, and ran; and finally after how much time he didn’t know he let himself quietly into Mammoth Manor and walked to the sideboard that they’d loaded up with the water keg and a dozen or more bottles of mead. He grabbed one of them and sat down by the fire, draining the bottle in one go and setting it back on the table beside him. He thought about getting another. Then he thought about Roggi, and shook his head. He could try to drown this particular sorrow, but it wouldn’t work. It had never worked for Roggi, it hadn’t worked for Brynjolf, and it wouldn’t work for him.
She was leading me to my death, and I killed her.
