Azalia // Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Twelve

Brynjolf had rode as fast as he could through the cobbled trails to Markarth with no rest. It had taken him an entire night, and part of the next day. He remembered Azalia telling Mercer that she had to speak to the barman in the Inn to find out where she was taking the pendant, so he thought that would be the best place to start.

The Inn was relatively quiet when Brynjolf entered, probably because it was just after midday and most of the drunkards were still sleeping. He approached the old balding man behind the counter.

"By any chance was there a young woman here to deliver a package?" He asked, and the old man looked at him like he was suspicious.

"Maybe, how much is it worth to ya?" He bargained and Brynjolf sighed.

"I don't actually have time for this," Brynjolf said, placing twenty gold on the counter, "Is that enough?"

"She was meeting the client in the Abandoned House across the way yesterday evening," The old tavern worker said, "I haven't seen her since and it's rumoured something strange went on there last night."

Brynjolf muttered a quick thanks and rushed out of the Inn. He asked a passerby a the marketplace which was the Abandoned House and if he had seen a white haired Nord leaving. He hadn't.

Brynjolf entered the abandoned house and looked around, his eyes landing on the corpse in the corner of the room. He knew it wasn't Azalia, but the black ichor that pooled around his mouth told him that she was near, and something bad had happened. He searched the house, but couldn't find anything other than locked doors. He began to grow increasingly worried. He left the house and paced through the market. Where had she gone?

"Um.. Mister?" A young red-haired woman approached him, "I think I saw the girl you were asking about last night."

"You did?" Brynjolf exclaimed, grabbing the woman who stumbled back startled. He released her, taking a step back, "Sorry, lass. Do you know where she went?"

"Well," The woman started, a frown on her face, "I was out late last night, it was quiet and noone else was around. I couldn't sleep. I heard some rumbling and there was a group of men dragging a young woman from that haunted house. I knew better than to intervene."

"What...?" Brynjolf said softly, his heartrate increasing. What if they had killed her? Or worse? "What colour hair did she have?"

"I couldn't see that good," She said sadly, "But it looked to be blonde or even white. I don't know where they took her exactly, but one of them mentioned Morthal."

"Thank you," Brynjolf said, processing the information.

"Be careful," The woman looked frightened, "They had glowing red eyes.. like Vampires. You can't kill them all on your own."

Brynjolf only nodded and ran out the gates of Markarth back to his horse. He slapped the side of his stallion and galloped through the pathways, leaving only dust in his wake. He knew he couldn't walk in and kill a dozen Vampires. Why on Nirn had she even gotten herself kidnapped by Vampires? Had Maven set her up? If he hadn't decided to go to her, he wouldn't even have the chance to save her. He would be waiting at the Guild and she never would have returned. She would likely be dead. His heart clenched at the thought.

Brynjolf remembered she had friends in Whiterun. The Companions. He ignored the annoyance he felt when he realised her lover was there. He needed to save her, that was all that mattered.

The journey to Whiterun took a few hours, and Brynjolf was exhausted but he refused to feel it. He jumped from his horse at the stables and ran up the pathway to the gates of Whiterun. It wasn't long until he was standing outside the door of Jorrvaskr. He pushed through the door coming face to face with a burly Nord man with dark hair and a scarred face.

"I think you stumbled into the wrong meadhall thief," The Nord spoke, but Brynjolf stood strong.

"I need your help," He said, standing tall against the intimidation, "Azalia is in trouble."

~•~

When Azalia woke, she had a throbbing headache. She moved her hands, realising they were bound infront of her. Her vision cleared and she looked around. She seemed to be in a cave, but there was furniture everywhere and it was apparent that many people lived there. A smell of raw meat hung in the air. Her armour had been removed, leaving her in her undergarments and a thin white dress they must have put her in.

"Ah," A deep male voice sounded in her ears, "Our guest of honour is awake. You'll have to wait a little while until the festivities begin though. The moon must be at its fullest, which is tonight at approximately midnight."

"What are you going to do to me?" Azalia said groggily, focusing on the man infront of her. He wore dark robes and had a very defined and bony face. Her heart almost stopped when she realised what he was. A creature of the night.

"I can hear your heart beat, darling," He said, kneeling down to her height, "Your fear delights me. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon. So beautiful, the daughter of a Daedric Prince. What a waste your death will be."

The Vampire paused, standing up.

"How rude of me," He exclaimed, his voice sending chills down Azalia's spine, "My name is Movarth Piquine, Master Vampire of this coven. Make yourself comfortable, you'll be here awhile."

Azalia was left speechless on the dirty ground where they had laid her. Vampires passed her, many looking down at her hungrily with eyes as red as blood. She felt helpless. She could see no possible way out of this, and even if she got free, how could she escape a coven of Vampires? The hours passed, and any time Movarth came near her, her heart clenched nervously.

She tried to distract herself in her thoughts, and could not help herself thinking about Brynjolf. She wondered what his reaction would be when she never returns. Knowing that she only had a few hours left, she wished she had let him speak. Now more than ever, she wanted to hear what he needed to say. A lone tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. She wasn't ready to die.

Azalia could feel that the night was falling, and she was counting in only minutes until she would come to her end. It terrified her. She had not lived her life yet, she had so much to do, so much love to give. She had to fight back, but she had no idea how.

"Get her ready," Movarth's voice sounded through the cavern, "It is almost time."

She screamed as arms wrapped around her, lifting her into the air as she thrashed against the lesser Vampires holding her. She was pressed against a cold metal table, the Vampires binding her arms and legs down. She fought hard, kicking one of the undead monsters in the face, earning a hiss and the rope so tight on her ankle it cut into her skin. She tried to summon the powers inside of her, but she couldn't feel any of it.

"Don't even try," Movarth chuckled at her frustration, "This sacrificial table is enchanted to prevent you from using any power against us."

"Sacrificial?" Azalia breathed, kicking her legs to try and break the hold of the ropes, "You are going to sacrifice me?"

"We are going to sacrifice you to your father, Molag Bal," Movarth said, trailing a finger over her bare thigh, "In return he will use your power to grant us strength, power, and the sunlight will no longer harm us."

Azalia was in shock, tears escaping her eyes, trailing down the sides of her face and into her hair.

"We will drink your blood, your power granting us power beyond your wildest dreams. We will be the most powerful beings to walk Nirn. Noone will be able to stop us."

Movarth trailed his sharp fingernail over the bare skin of her thigh, drawing crimson. He lifted his finger to his lips, tasting the blood that ran in her veins.

"Beautiful and delicious."

~•~

I dunno how I even thought up this stuff
Lets hope they all get there in time !!