Elder Scroll series 1. Chapter 1

Orthjolf looked across at the blood sucker and smiled, his green eyes catching its movement. In one swing of his blade, he sliced its head clean off, leaving nothing but a stumbling body. Vampires, despicable and terrible creatures, filled with corruption and deceit. They were merciless and had no morals. As the only vampire hunter in Skyrim, he planned on killing every last one of them, no matter what.

The monsters had tortured and killed his family, but he had managed to escape. Luckily, he made it out with no scratch, and that was a gift given by the gods, but they weren't feeling all too nice to the rest of his town. The vampires killed the townsfolk and the guards, the livestock and they even burnt down every last house. He couldn't totally remember his escape plan; in fact it was hard to remember that night. The last and most vivid thing he remembered was how a priest had taken him in and healed him.  
It was hard times, especially when he lived with a man who was against violence.

Anger often took over the young Orthjolf and he started to take it out on animals; he hunted every day, ignoring the Jarl's law and the priest's warning. He began to realize that he hated vampires with a passion, and when he turned sixteen, he left his adopted father and gave way to killing.

It started with the stray ones on the road, and then he started raiding their caves and dens, slaughtering them all until her could quench his lust. Many had called him a lunatic, but more called him a hero. He was the death bringer, and was feared by thousands of vampires for his skill and ferociousness, no mercy was ever given. Many would vouch and say that he was a man of pure heart, but that was false, because purity meant mercy, and Orthjolf was unfamiliar with that.

He was a one man army, and an army of five thousand. His skill was unmatched, many believed that he was a werewolf, due to his anger, but he was human. Some would say he was Meridia incarnate, but she merely watched Orthjolf in Oblivion. Skyrim would call on him countless times, and when it came to vampires, he always proved worthy.

In this case, this is Orthjolf's last record.

The cave was dark, cold, and reeking of the smell of spilt blood, a smell all too familiar with Orthjolf. He pulled out his sword, holding it with two hands behind him. He approached farther and farther into the cave, his feet crunching on bones of the dead, his eyes still adjusting to the black cave. He felt the air around his neck move just an inch and his red hair tickled his spine. In less than a second, he flicked a torch alight and threw it right into the snarling face of a vampire, causing its scream to fill the cave, bouncing off the walls.  
As the beast stumbled, he brought his sword to his throat and thrust it deep into its throat. As the monster shrivelled to the floor, it reduced to ash, and Orthjolf shook his head. He learned not to make too much of a description of vampires; to him there was no gender. Blowing out his torch, he placed it back on his hip and continued once again in the cave. His boots crunched on more bones and anger radiated in his chest. How many did they kill? Tens, hundreds, thousands? He had tried to recruit hunters, but to no avail, for the Nords have never even tried to help him.

Some have tried, and died in the process; mostly men in over their heads, hoping that they can prove themselves as warriors. It was a shame to see so much death of human life, but he was trying to help lower it, by doing this.

A sob escaped the tunnels and Orthjolf listened to a familiar voice talking to the crying creature. "What is wrong?" More crying, Orthjolf began to move faster, recognizing the Jarl's son's voice. "Are you hurt?" The sobbing started to end and Orthjolf began to sprint, his feet making no sound.

Finally the woman spoke up, "No, I am fine...now!" and Orthjolf threw his sword as he rounded the corner, but the deed had been done. Even as the vampire fell to the floor, blood gushed from the heir's neck. Grabbing some cloth, Orthjolf wrapped the boy's neck, but he knew it was too late, and the boy fell limp in his arm. He lay him down and picked up his sword, disappointment and anger clouding his vision.

He shut the boy's eyes and stood up, full height. His anger rippled in the room and he flew through the cave, somehow finding his way around. He heard the vampire coming to his right and using his right hand, cut diagonally down and heard the scream as two halves fell to the floor. He turned right, then left, cutting through another and another, blood dirtying his sword. He rampaged through the cave, his red hair flying through his face and his mouth snarling.

Finally, he entered a huge room, his eyes scanning the snow covered walls. There he heard clapping, and slowly, Orthjolf looked up, his sea green eyes landing on blood red ones. A scream filled the air and his head whipped to the side, and a woman with what looked like Nordic armour was tied to a stake. Her eyes were filled with pain and Orthjolf looked back at the vampire and hissed. "Let her go, and I may spare you," and the vampire laughed.

"Odd coming from a man who has never spared a vampire in his life," and the pale man touched the female on the cheek and sniffed her neck. She whimpered and he laughed again, and then caressed her cheek.

"Mostly because they never listen," Orthjolf called out, and the vampire stopped. He turned around and a wicked sneer was plastered to his face.

He took out a long blade and lifted his hands to the ceiling, "Let the game begin!" Orthjolf listened as steps rang into the air, sounding like thousands of bodies. The torches that aligned the walls suddenly blew out and the area grew darker than before. With complete confidence, Orthjolf readied his blade, eyes adjusting to the dark. He relied on his ears now.

He kept circling where he was, ready on every side. Red eyes struck out and he heard the whistling of a sword and ducked, feeling the blade lightly touch his scalp. Wincing, he jumped and spun in a complete circle, slicing into the vampire. Oddly, his blade was blocked and he stumbled back, surprised. These ones were different than before, stronger and smarter. He started with another tactic and when a vampire struck out, he dodged and then struck.

He parried the blind attacks, and soon, dust circled the hero. Orthjolf lit his torch and caught eye contact with the vampire, who was seething at the balcony above him. "You need to try harder than that to kill me," he yelled, his voice still strong and hard. The undead man clenched his fists and jumped down, landing softly on the ground.

"You killed my family," he hissed and Orthjolf smirked.

"That's the idea," and the leach struck. His sword arm was fast and hard, coming in Orthjolf's weak spots, but the vampire didn't realize that Orthjolf, unlike many other Nords, didn't try to strengthen his weak spots, but he protected them. So as he played the part of weakened, allowing weak hits to get his arm, he watched as the vampire's confidence grow.  
As his tactics became sloppier, Orthjolf began to move closer and closer to a wall. The vampire raised his arm to strike and Orthjolf struck fast and quickly, slicing into the beast's belly. Surprised, the pale man looked at the hunter with surprise, and Orthjolf gave off a wicked yell and charged the vampire, sword still in his gut and impaled him to the wall. The man's last words were, "No mercy, you are worse than us," and he coughed and looked to the sky. "Shor have mercy."

Dust flew into Orthjolf's face and he coughed and spat out the dreaded dust. He ripped out his sword and walked to the woman. She didn't seem to register him and he waved his hand by her face, oddly enough, he didn't see it. He felt his hand, but he still couldn't see it. Then as he thought that the vampire did something to him, he saw his hand again.

The war maiden screamed and he put his hands up and she eyed him wearily. "Who are you?" she asked and he cut her loose from the spike she was tied to.

"An enemy to these monsters," the warrior replied and the war maiden smiled. He watched as she leaned on her tippy toes and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. He blushed and then placed his sword back into its huge sheath.

"Thank you," and he nodded, walking towards another door that he hoped was leading out. He put his hand on the handle and she called out, "Wait!" and he instantly took his hand off the handle. She jogged towards him and leaned down, grabbed a knife and ripped a rope located under the door that Orthjolf hadn't noticed. A loud bang rapped behind the door and when she allowed him to open it, a huge mace head was hanging where his head would have been.

He looked at the other side of the door and a huge indent was imprinted on it. He gave the maiden a grateful look and she beamed. "What's your name?" he asked her and she gave a shy smile.

"Matilda," her voice whispered and he repeated it and smiled, liking the way it sounded.  
"Beautiful and strong," and at his compliment, she blushed.

They reached the Jarl's longhouse, and Orthjolf advised her to stay out here, but she refused. "No, I'm going in there. It is my home." And she stormed past Orthjolf who was gaping at her. As he entered the warm area, he placed his heavy gauntlets on his waist. Then he took off his helmet and kneeled by the Jarl's throne.

"Father!" he heard and saw Matilda embrace her father who was staring in disbelief at her. He slowly hugged the heavily armoured girl back and then pushed her away, taking a good look at her. Confusion filled Orthjolf's mind, he had said nothing about his daughter? Matilda's smile slowly began to dissolve and the hunter immediately stood up, anger pouring through his veins.

"You never spoke of your daughter's abduction." He spoke and the Jarl glared angrily at the bloodied man. Matilda, though, backed away from the man before her.

"You would rather have one child than both?" she whispered and the Jarl straightened his back. "You sent Orthjolf, a man who is by all means the best, but can't even send anyone for me. You could have even told him about me...but why?" Her lower lip quivered and the Jarl stood.

"Leave, Orthjolf, for you have failed me!" and he stormed into the back doors, with a shocked daughter staring after him. Angered, Orthjolf stormed out as well, heading to the inn. His hatred for the Jarl spread, for how could one do such despicable things with no consciousness. He blatantly admitted the favouritism, oblivious to Matilda.

"What would you like?" A barmaid asked and he asked for water, no need to celebrate for the failure of recovering the heir. He waited for her to come back, his eyes starting to drift shut, his bones tired and his cuts still slightly burning. He had taken a potion to cure any diseases that could have come, but that didn't stop him from feeling any pain.  
His looked around his satchel and found a few bandages, he started covering the major injuries, and soon he was patched up, mostly. The woman came back with his water and he guzzled it down, and set it on the counter of the bar, three septims in the glass. The woman working the counter took it and smiled. He then set out twenty septims and asked for a room.

Cold wind blew in his face and he looked back to see Matilda, golden hair in her face, helmet at her side and eyes red from crying. She looked around the Inn and finally got in eye contact with Orthjolf. She ran at him and grabbed his arm, sobs racking her body. He pulled out a chair and she sat, sniffling.  
"The bastard disowned me, and here I am," she spilled and Orthjolf grabbed her arm and asked her to repeat, anger growing back inside him again. "You heard correctly, because I made a scene he told me to leave the _hold_. I'm wanted by tomorrow morning."

Although Orthjolf felt terrible for her, he was needed somewhere else that day, and he was mighty tired, hungry and thirsty. "I am sorry, Matilda, but I have to leave tomorrow, but I am still a man, and I need sleep." He watched as her face fell and she looked at him again, her eyes sparkling and hopeful.

She said, "I could meet you there, I have enough gold to go by carriage and then we could..." and she trailed off, suddenly her optimism gone. Her eyes lowered to her knotted hands, a tear falling down her cheek. "I understand. You do not want me to be there."

Startled, Orthjolf grabbed her hands and she looked up at his kind and fierce face. "I will meet you at the Palace of Kings." As she left the bar, he could only think to himself, "What am I doing?"

He reached Windhelm tired and beaten, his horse was in even worse shape. Several bite wounds from wolves and he even had to get to cover when a dragon flew by. It had been two days since he had last seen Matilda, so he was eager to see how she faired. His boots crunched on the snow as he watched men and women run inside their homes for cover, the blizzard beating down on Windhelm was cruel in this season. Orthjolf rubbed his singed beard as he searched for any signs of the Jarl's daughter. Where could she have gone to? Had she stayed in the Palace of Kings, or had she gone to the Inn? Orthjolf stopped at the doors to the Inn and contemplated on going in or not. He might get tempted to stay in the warmth, but then again, she could be in there and he'd waste valuable time if he went to the Palace empty handed.

Making up his mind, he entered the warm building and spotted her right away. Her golden hair was long and in a thick braid, her cheeks flushed and a big smile on her face as she conversed with a bard. Despite himself, a smile escaped the hunter's lips and he approached the female. She turned and saw him approaching and flew off her chair and embraced him, causing Orthjolf to go rigid and stern. Nevertheless, she continued to hug him and finally lowered her hands, "I was beginning to think that you ran off on me," she smiled and he gave her a meek smile, colour lifting to his cheeks. No one had ever tried to embrace or even touch him, this was unusual, even for a woman.

"I have work to do in the morning, so I believe that I will be resting here for the night, I will pay for your room, as well," and Orthjolf started in walking to the counter, where a man was serving ale by the gallon.

A hand grasped his shoulder, "Nonsense, we can share a room," and Orthjolf raised an eyebrow and she stuttered, "T-to save on gold, I mean," and he continued to walk to the counter, ignoring her request.

"I have never had a problem with septims," and, rejected, Matilda moped back to her original seat, annoyed. Orthjolf on the other hand was flustered and partially irritated; could she not just accept his offerings? Never had he shared a room with someone, come brother to stranger, he has always been alone, and tends to keep it that way. Although many thought of him as some kind of ruthless killer who has no bounds, he drops the line at sharing a one person bed. He was tired and didn't need some warm-bodied female to be distracting him all night, unlike every other man in this bar. He dropped fifty septims on the table and downed a bottle of mead before heading off to bed, passing Matilda on the way, who eyed him with disappointment.

The large Nord shut the door to his small room and gave off a huge laugh. The bed was puny, and he settled down in it, about to fall asleep, when across the room he spotted another bed. So that was what she meant...

Birds chirped at the window and Orthjolf grudgingly rolled off of the bed, his body begged him to stay in the bed for a little while longer, but to no avail. He was sent a request from the Jarl of Windhelm, a supposed vampire issue was at hand, as usual; his guess, probably one or two vampires stirring up trouble, turning or killing innocence. Not like that was something that he would so carelessly brush off, he knew that even one vampire could kill thousands.

He grabbed his coin purse and exited the inn, running into Matilda on the way out. She looked tired and woozy, and he would soon find out, cranky. "Good morning," he greeted her politely and she grunted in response and started for the door. He followed her, which he later regretted.  
"How was your night?" he asked her and she blew a strand of pale hair from her face before answering.

"Tiring, cold and very uneventful," she replied, her voice nasty and harsh. "What about you?" she asked him, but he could tell that she didn't care.  
"Fine, but might I ask what the problem is?" and she whipped her head around.

"Well rejecting me to share a space with you dampened my spirits, plus the fact that you acted like I just asked to bed you, that's a starter." Orthjolf winced, remembering that he found out that she merely wished to share the room, not the bed. "Along with some tankards of ale, it's not the greatest mix," she hissed, her boots stomping loudly in the snow. A couple of tankards? She could really hold her alcohol, Orthjolf thought to himself.  
They reached the massive wooden doors and Matilda whistled. "Properly named..." she concluded and Orthjolf couldn't help but agree with her, it was impressive. A guard opened the door and the duo entered, warmth blazing their chilled faces. If there was one thing about Windhelm, it was cold.

He rubbed his hands together, chilled to the bone, when a loud voice called out, "Who enters?" The two bowed, and Orthjolf spoke up, his voice bouncing from each wall.

"You summoned a vampire hunter," and when he looked back up, the Jarl was leaning back in his chair, his face grim. His hair was black and pulled into a low ponytail. His clothing were a bit larger than they should have been, but maybe he had lost weight due to the weather and all, nothing new there. His skin was pale and he looked rather sick. Oddly enough, he had a bandage on his eyes, as if blind. Odd first impression, in Orthjolf's eyes.

"Ah, and yet two enter my throne room," he replies solemnly, and he tilted his head to the side to where Matilda was, who kneeled in response.

"I am Orthjolf's partner, and that is all there is to it," she replied, her voice loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to seem respectful.  
The Jarl nodded at her answer, "Very well, onto business I presume. As you may have noticed, there have been disappearances here in Windhelm. The same damn story every time; someone goes for a walk, an adventure, out to buy at the market, even just going out of their homes to harvest crops, and _pfft," _he flicked his fingers and leaned closer to the two bodies in front of him, "they are gone. No blood, no sound, not even an extra pair of footprints, as my steward tells me."  
"How do you know it's vampires and not some man gone off the deep end?" Orthjolf asked, only now beginning to wonder if his trip here was in vain.

"Because," he replied impatiently, "They left me this note and even entered my court," his voice rose higher. He clutched the arm rests of his throne and stood.

"Are you sure this is a vampire we are dealing with, I am not unfamiliar with people condemning honest men and women." Orthjolf questioned and Matilda gave him a cautious look.

"Do you dare question me? Defy me?!" he roared and Orthjolf lifted his chin high.

"I do not, but I will not kill any innocence on some impudent accusation, I need proof, as hard as it is for you to understand that, I do not kill unless I have the truth to back me up. No matter who you are, I will not kill on the ravings of a mad man, Jarl or not." And with that Orthjolf rose and waited for the Jarl to catch his breath and let what he had just say sink in.

The Jarl paced the room, his servants watching him carefully, his steward nervously shifting in his chair. "Although it sounds odd, my steward tells me that she had glowing red eyes and pale skin, many seemed to overlook this, but he saw right through her charade. I guess due to my conditions, I would have never guessed that she was undead. She told me that she knew about the killings, but no one seemed to believe her and it grew heated. She told us that she would save us, but that she needed to know the information on where we were meeting this _Harkon_. Obviously, I didn't believe her, so I asked her to leave. She told us it was a mistake and now here we are, more and more disappearances have been taken place."  
"Did she tell you anything else?" Matilda asked and he shook his head.  
The Jarl rubbed his beard and sighed, "I fear that we let the killer fall right out of our hands," he replied and collapsed in his chair. Orthjolf ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating his information.

"What did the note say?" Orthjolf said to him. The Jarl grabbed a ruffled sheet of paper and handed it to his steward who shook as he read out. Was he scared of the blind Jarl?  
"To the Jarl of Windhelm, you have taken a notice in the disappearances of your men and women, I presume. For your amusement, we have taken it upon ourselves to treat them as loyal guests, telling them of your soon arrival of salvation. Will you disappoint or achieve? If you wish to strike a deal, meet me at the gates of Solitude in a week. Yours truly, Lord Harkon."

"How long ago was this sent?" he asked, and the Jarl tilted his head to the steward for confirmation.

"About four days ago," he replied shakily and Orthjolf groaned. Could they make that journey to Solitude?

"This Lord Harkon mentions a 'we,' so I take it that there are a number of vampires. How long ago did the female vampire arrive?" Matilda asked and Orthjolf looked at her and smirked; she was good.  
The Jarl once again looked to his steward and he managed to whisper, "Two days ago..." and he bit his lip and nudged away from the Jarl. Orthjolf ignored this, no need to get into petty problems when there were bigger ones at hand.

"Then we will go to Solitude," Orthjolf confirmed and the blind Jarl nodded and smiled. "Thank you for telling us this."

"No, thank you," he smiled and leaned back into the throne. Orthjolf put his hand behind Matilda's back and led her out, both of them looking back to the Jarl, who was smiling still.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Two Days Later_

It was hard for Orthjolf to willingly go to these vampires. It sounded so badly like a trap to kill him that he was considering backing out. Not because of his life on the stake, but Matilda's. It's not like she's had her whole life to train for this, she just started out. Nonetheless, she seemed like a warrior and maybe this was a way for her to prove herself. Although Orthjolf highly doubted it, you don't prove yourself through vampires, mostly because they can kill you easily. It's like learning how to hunt and skin an animal by starting with a mammoth; it was plain idiotic.

"So, it was nice that he gave us those horses," Matilda commented, causing Orthjolf to break from his thoughts. She was putting her steel helmet back on, which fit her perfectly, unlike many other helmets on new warriors. "Can't wait to kill those vampires," she whispered excitedly and Orthjolf gave her a strange look.

Should she being facing vampires? It seemed as an obvious trap and she could easily get killed. "I was thinking, maybe you should sit out on this one, and when I come back I can give you some training lessons." He suggested and she laughed at his attempt to persuade her.

"No, they may have trapped me once, but I won't make the mistake again. I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not," she exclaimed. Orthjolf rubbed his temples, his eyes widening in annoyance. If she died, he'd have a death wish on his head, mostly because the Jarl would come after him as penance for killing his son and daughter. The hunter watched as the Jarl's daughter stomped ahead of him, her thick braid swishing from side to side under her helmet.

He looked up to the sky and whispered, "Why do you hate me?" and followed the angry woman. Matilda stopped at the gates, waiting for him, and as he approached she flicked her head to the side, as if he didn't deserve her gaze. He merely pushed past her and she huffed, her breath coming out in a big puff of air. A guard advised them to keep to the roads as they approached the stables and he nodded, knowing the dangers of the wilderness.

Two black steeds awaited them and Orthjolf rubbed the horse's head. The fur was warm and he could tell that she was a strong animal. They started saddling the horses and as he threw his over the horse's back, he turned to see if Matilda needed any help, but she was already on her horse. "You done yet?" She asked impatiently and he turned back to his horse after seeing her smug expression.

"I like to save my strength before a battle, not on competitions," Orthjolf replied over his shoulder and she huffed again, while Orthjolf had a smug smile on his face now. He jumped onto the horse and slapped the reins, the steed taking off in a flash.

"Hey wait!" Matilda called out and he ignored her plea, a sudden familiar excitement running through him; time to hunt. He heard the clomping of hooves behind him and knew that she had caught up. His face felt numb due to the constant pricking of cold air and his eyes watered at the speed they were going. His fingers were clenched hard, trying to keep the warmth in his hands, as if he could hold the heat. His breath and his horse's were getting thrown into their own faces, which wasn't too bad, due to the fact that their breath was warm.

The horse started to slow and Orthjolf eased up on the reins, allowing a slow trot. "Do you always push your horse like that?" Matilda accused and he smiled, his teeth chapped from the cold.

"Only when there is an important mission at hand," he replied and she scoffed. Her hair was loose and strands were around her face, while her cheeks and nose were bright red. He looked down at the reins and saw that his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was clenching the leather rope. It was freezing here, and he could not wait a second longer to get to Solitude. Although it may not be the warmest land, it was a lot warmer than this damn weather.

After about two minutes in the cold, walking the equivalent speed to a mammoth with all its legs broken, Orthjolf growled and slapped the ropes again. Although he was a nord, he despised the cold air of Eastmarch. Once again, Matilda was left behind, and she called out for him to wait, but to no avail. The vampire hunter slapped the reins harder and the steed picked up its speed; Matilda trying to keep up with her horse.

Only one person in Skyrim tortured their horses and that was Orthjolf, mainly because he was impatient. Matilda was the exact opposite; she treated her horses with care and love – unlike Orthjolf who decided that if they couldn't run faster than a sabercat, they were of no use.

His hair flapped behind him and soon the horse stopped completely, stubborn enough to disobey Orthjolf. "Damn! We are so close!" He moaned and slid of the horse, pulling out some logs and lighting the pile, a warm fire heating his hands. About two minutes after he settled in, he saw Matilda trotting down the road. He could feel the rage in her eyes all the way from here.

Once she reached him, he gave her a bored look and continued on warming his hands. His horse was near the fire, too, and eating some hay that Orthjolf brought. Unlike Orthjolf, Matilda flew off her horse gracefully and charged at Orthjolf. "How could you treat a horse like that?!" He shrugged and replied on how they are just animals. This got her even more worked up.

"Just animals? How would you feel if some man, in armour that weighed more than you do, jumped on your back and forced you to run?" Her arms flew around wildly and he merely blinked at her.

The vampire hunter leaned back in thought, watching as Matilda grew angrier at the lengths he was taking to answer and he replied. "Well, if it's my job, then I would feel nothing at all. It is my job, and this is what I am supposed to do, along with the fact that thousands of men and women have done the exact same thing from the moment I didn't rely on my mother, you'd think I'd be used to it, and be strong enough to carry them. Plus, my armour weighs less than the horse."

She gawked at him for a second and sputtered, "Y-you are TERRIBLE!" And she sat down in annoyance, glaring into the flame. Orthjolf smirked and approached his horse who eyed him nervously.

"Are you intending on already returning to the road?" She yelled out and he smiled, revealing two bottle of mead and two sweet rolls. "Oh," she replied and he chuckled. She ate the sweet roll fairly quickly, while Orthjolf heated his above the fire, drinking his mead now and then. He pulled out his map and started to do mental calculations, occasionally eyeing the horse, tempted to get riding. Once they finished their 'meal' he cracked his knuckles and doused the fire.

He eagerly approached his horse, which whinnied softly, and he called out over his shoulder, "We better get moving," and he jumped back onto the horse. Matilda did so too, her sigh loud and disappointed. Once again, he started off with a gallop and he followed the map that he laid in front of him. Occasionally he would slow down, subconsciously fooling Matilda to think that he was thinking about the poor creature, when really he was checking his map.

After an hour or so, the air started to warm slightly and he sighed, feeling relieved at the shift in the winds. Matilda was now beside him and she failed at starting small talk with the hunter.

"So, the weathers nice," he grunted.

"I can't wait to see Solitude," he shrugged.

"I wonder what this Harkon is going to look like?" he slid his hand across his throat and she threw her hands up in submission. "Fine, I'll shut up!" She pouted and laid her head on the horse's neck, her breath forced out in anger.

Orthjolf saw the windmill first and he smiled wickedly, this Harkon was going to pay dearly. He slapped at the reins and the horse sped off; Matilda, as usual, left behind. He headed straight to the gates, not bothering to get off at the stables. His sword was out and he was preparing to strike, when he stumbled into a guard. He checked around the area, but there was no sign of any vampires.

Orthjolf jumped down from his horse, and looked around, checking the bushes and into the trees. He was oblivious of the guard who was approaching him. The soldier tapped his shoulder and he spun around, nearly slicing the guard's stomach in half.

"Are you alright, sir?" The masked guard asked him, eyeing the sword wearily. Orthjolf glared at the man before him and hissed for him to take off his mask. The guard took one last look at the sword and reluctantly took off his helmet. A tanned and blue eyes nord stared into the hunter's face. Orthjolf sighed and lowered his weapon, and then guard put the helmet back on.

"I am terribly sorry, but I had to make sure that you weren't a vampire. I was told they'd be here." He looked around again and the guard laughed through the steel mask.

"No, today has been a rather quiet day, no one has stopped in," he replied and Orthjolf gave him a doubtful look. The man raised his hands, "Honest," and Orthjolf placed his sword back into its sheath. He had waited the correct amount of days and knew the exact time he'd make it here, how could he be wrong.

Matilda approached him and asked, "So you already killed them?" and she turned and gave her a confused look.

"They aren't here..." he looked at the guards' tower, wondering if they are hiding from the sun. Maybe they were waiting until a dark hour? Orthjolf looked at the guard and asked, "Would you mind if we waited out here?"

"If it means destroying those vampires, than by all means, go right ahead." Orthjolf inspected the area, finding no signs of vampires. Nothing smelt of dried blood, the smell every vampire gave off, and nothing looked out of the ordinary. Either the vampires were incredibly skilled, or they were never here in the first place.

Night arose, and Matilda and Orthjolf waited for ten hours, fixed on nothing but nerves to keep them awake. By the time that the sun rose, Orthjolf grabbed Matilda and they reached a small inn at the capital cities' entrance. After renting _one_ room and sharing the two beds, the vampire hunter and vampire hunter in training passed out on the fur covered beds.

This is what Orthjolf wanted so badly, he wanted to sleep, but he knew that it was impossible. His mind was on alert, the small thought in his head of vampires being near, he was wide awake. The same couldn't be said about Matilda, who was passed out on her bed, her breaths even and still. He watched her in the dark for a moment, his eyes trailing down her body. He mentally shook himself. What was he doing?

He grabbed his sword and delicately traced his finger over the carvings and designs in the dangerous tool. A tool that was meant for nothing but killing, something it has done for its whole life. He smiled and chuckled in the darkness, he was no philosopher.

When he watched the sun lower from the room's window, he stretched, bored of sitting in bed all day, when he could be riding back to Windhelm and inform the blind Jarl of their failure to find the vampires. It seemed that there have been two failures in a row, must be bad luck.

Orthjolf gently woke up Matilda, who gasped when his hand shook her shoulder. She squinted at the vampire hunter, who gave her a weak smile, causing her to groan and mush her head back into the bed. He left the room, returning with a cold bottle of ale and touched the glass to her forehead. She gave off an _eep_ and glared at Orthjolf. He gave her a bored look and motioned for her to follow him outside.

Matilda mumbled something about him being a hard ass, and rolled off the layered pelts. Orthjolf watched in amusement at her, not totally understanding what was wrong with her. "Are you coming?" he asked and she gave him a death glare and groaned, scratching her thick golden hair.

"Do you always wake up this early?" and he laughed. "What?" she asked, scowling.

"It's seven, dark," he answered and her mouth dropped. "So, I have this idea that I didn't wake you up _too _early," he continued, chuckling softly to himself.

"Yah, well, I am _human, _unlike you; someone who only needs to sleep for two minutes. I need my beauty sleep, you know?" she growled and he laughed.

"I agree," he laughed and she slapped his arm, which only caused him to laugh harder. Over his laughter, he saw that she was blushing profusely.

They exited the inn, after grabbing some food to eat, and they left through the large doors of Solitude. The steep incline was hard to slowly walk down and look professional and not like some rambunctious child. Orthjolf walked slowly and steady, while Matilda bounded down the hill, her laughing echoing around him. He smiled at her bouncing form and tilted his head to the side, until she caught him staring and gave a playful glare.

Once they reached the horses, Orthjolf decided to make one more check, hoping to find the vampires, but they were still absent. What if the letter was fake? Maybe the Jarl was in trouble right now? He jumped onto the horse, Matilda already mounted hers, and they rode. Orthjolf took note that she was riding her horse faster now, causing him to give a smug smile in her direction.

Then he remembered his assumption, and slapped the reins, causing the horse to snort. It took off faster than before, probably realizing the urgency that he needed to reach the Jarl. Or maybe this was the horse that Matilda had looked after, whichever one, he took advantage. They rode around hard turns and, although against Matilda's warning, through the blizzard that had intercepted them.

The air was freezing, colder than the last time they had travelled down this road, but after telling Matilda about his idea of the Jarl's safety, she seemed to push her horse harder than he did, which was saying something. That was something that he wondered about; did she care about the Jarl, or was it like him with his hatred towards vampires in general? Mostly because he was curious about that, too. Her brother had died from a vampire, although he never told her, he assumed that she knew. It must have pained her, Orthjolf suddenly realizes.

How could she be so calm and cheery, when her brother had died? When his family had been wiped out, he was devastated; they were gone, never will be seen again. And being a small child, it was hard to wrap your head around. Why were they gone? The main question he never voiced. Why his family? Why his town? It was really hard to think about, especially when your 'father' tells you that they are happy now. Why would they be so happy and yet he is not there? Why can't he be happy like them? Why did they leave him behind?

When he got in his teen years, he started to stop thinking those questions and thought of new ones. Why did vampires have to purge and destroy his village? What were they achieving? That they could rule over some dead bodies? He didn't-couldn't understand why these vampires have to kill the innocent.

Then when he left, he only thought one question; where are they? He had been trained by veterans, ones that couldn't be in the wars, retired to become a farmer. For training , he offered his help around the farm, which help him grow stronger as well. Some trained him with the bow, while others trained him with great swords. Some were Wood Elves, while others were Orcs. Some Nords trained him, but they never seemed to teach him as well as the other races.

Orcs taught him to merciless, which has saved his life in many situations. A certain thief had taught him the art of stealth and how to run silently; while the Wood Elves taught him a million tricks on how to shoot a bow, or how to throw his sword. Merchants taught him the art of lying and bargaining, while he did certain 'jobs' for them.

Even more people had helped him along the way, none actually vampire hunters, so he had to learn some tricks and tips on the job. Like, fire or the smell of a vampire, how to find an invisible vampire, and how to get close to one. It had taken years, plus the occasional visit to his father, who was proud and disappointed at the same time. He said that Orthjolf should have mercy.

"Did they have mercy on my family? My town?" Orthjolf, in his mid twenties now, had argued with his father, and the holy man merely gave him a sad smile.

"Yes, for had they none, you wouldn't be talking to me," he simply replied and Orthjolf seethed.

The vampires hadn't saved him, this priest had. They made a mistake, didn't see him, or were just too lazy, but either way, there was no mercy left. Orthjolf left on bad terms that day with his father, and he had not seen him in years. Not like he wanted to, the man had no understanding of what vampires were; beings that chose to kill the living, instead of live in harmony with them.

"I believe we will be there in a minute or so," Matilda replied over the storm that was worsening. He gave her thumbs up, not bothering to holler over this storm. He could barely see her though the snow that flew through his line of vision. He hissed and slapped the reins, a building coming into view. There stood the stables, and Orthjolf and Matilda slapped their reins in unison, their horses flying into the shelter.

The stable master gave out a startled cry when Matilda nearly ran him over. Not bothering to take off the saddles; the duo ran to the gates, leaving a confused stable master. The warriors burst through the doors to the palace and stared at a pale but healthy Jarl. His head tilted to the side, and his calming and old voice called out, "Who enters my court?"

The twp knelt and Matilda spoke out, "The two vampire hunters, sir." And he nodded and looked around.

"Now, where is that blasted steward of mine?" he wondered out loud, and after searching around, calling his name to no avail, the man shrugged and tilted his head again, staring at them, and although blind, he seemed to be staring at them. Finally he spoke out, after pondering something. "I see you have killed the vampires at Solitude?" he asked and the two partners gave each other a weary look.

"Actually," Orthjolf started, "They were not there. We checked everywhere, and there was no sign of them. They had not come before, we had been informed by the guard, and even then we checked." The Jarl was in muted rage, his mouth set in a straight line.

"The COWARDS!" He exploded and Orthjolf watched him in surprise, not realizing how angry the Jarl was about this. "They come into _MY _court, insult me, and then trick us by sending us onto a pointless mission." He lowered himself back into his throne, his breath fast and heavy. A wicked smile grew on his lips, "But they will pay, won't they. Because you will track them down," and the Jarl slumped in his stone chair. Now he seemed calm, so Orthjolf began to speak.

"What do you mean, sir?" and the Jarl smiled down in their area.

"What I mean, dear, hunter, is that you are going to find them. The female came back, I am afraid, and told me that your trip was wasted, pointless. She told me that they wouldn't show up, but I was certain that these vampires would. They seemed like the proud type," and Orthjolf nodded. These ones seemed to believe that they were talented boldly sending the letter, telling him of their crime against the citizens, even giving the name; Lord Harkon. This one had something up his sleeve, and he was going to find out what.

"So tell me, where would I-err we, find these vampires?" Orthjolf asked, giving Matilda a guilty look. "Did this one give an exact location?" He finished with complete sarcasm. A smirk is on the Jarl's face and he lets out a chuckle.

"As a matter a fact, they did leave a location. Only this is the one of the cowardly vampires. The beastly woman told me of their where they hid their miserable hide, supposedly they are in High Ridge Point. Odd name for a cave..." The Jarl mutters and Orthjolf notices Matilda shift uncomfortably.

"I mean no disrespect, my Jarl, but does this not obviously seem a trap? For example, how can you possibly trust this vampire, let alone allow your guards not to attack it?" Matilda calls out and Orthjolf too wonders this. If he hated these vampires, why allow one in the court?

"Had she not already proven her trust, she did warn me about the cowards," he replied smoothly and Orthjolf laughs mockingly.

"Because that is exactly what she is thinking. I want the Jarl's trust so he can kill thousands of my brethren! Although it sickens me of the thought, if I was a vampire I would care about my kind, my loyalty is strong; shows you much about a vampire's loyalty." Orthjolf hissed and the Jarl nodded his head. He seemed to ponder over something until he cupped his hands together.

"You have pure words, but any man that is influenced by power will become corrupt. I don't believe that you would merely brush aside the idea of power. Not many would." The Jarl leaned forward in his throne, a smug look on his blinded face.

"Not many would go out of their way to kill a vampire, not many would leap into a cave knowing of the dangers and thinking of what you will eat after the clearing of said cave."

"So?" The blindfolded man mocked and Orthjolf growled.

"So _I_ am not many," he finished and the Jarl clapped his hands together. Orthjolf snarled at the Jarl, but it was obvious that it was not threatening him one bit. Matilda laid a gentle hand on his shoulder to calm him, giving him an overwhelming feeling of throwing something.

"Down to business; I have arranged a training session with some of my head guards, I believe that these vampires are a lot tougher than some would imagine," the Jarl leaned back into his chair and sighed, as if it were too much to utter those pointless words. "Matilda and you are welcome to accept, in fact I recommend that. I want these cowards dead," he hissed through his teeth. Orthjolf noticed that his fists were clenched and spiteful. He smiled at the Jarl's burst of emotion and took out his sword.

"I believe that we will be fine. Sometimes, the cowards are the easiest. This Harkon's head will be on a silver platter when I get back." The vengeful man turned to leave, but was stopped by his new partner. Orthjolf caught the Jarl scowl. So he couldn't handle violence? How unnatural.

"We accept your training, Jarl. It would be wise to start tomorrow and then rest the night. Vampires sleep during the day, so it would be wise to get them while they are in a weaker state." She caught Orthjolf's eye and smiled, "Besides, not everyone can charge into a cave full of blood suckers," she added and the Jarl nodded.

"I agree." They left the unusual man and walked into the blizzard-friendly city. The air was bitter cold, the sound of yelling merchants and angry customers filled the market square. Orthjolf hissed under his breath.

"I have never understood these people," the hunter gestured to the men and women before him. "They do the same thing ever day, never changing their life."

Matilda laughed, her breath coming out in the cold. "Not everyone is an amazing hunter, you know. Some people are afraid of things like vampires and werewolves. A normal wolf would terrify thousands," she calmly replied, and the red haired man shook his head in confusion. How one could not even properly defend one's self was very hard to wrap his head around. Although some would say that this was an unfair judgment, Orthjolf had always been training, so he always knew how to be safe. While others whose father or mother were merchants or farmers may only know how to use something small like a dagger, maybe an axe, maybe.

"Hey, are you the one who was visiting the Jarl? The one who is going after the kidnapper?" a fair haired Nord asked them. Orthjolf shared a look with Matilda and they both shifted in slight discomfort. Should he tell this man? What if he was looking for the vampire hunters, not the Jarl's helpers?

"Yes, we visited the Jarl, and we are looking for this _kidnapper." _Matilda answered him, then gave Orthjolf a meek smile. He glared daggers at her and she laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her head. The man looked at them with complete pride, like one would do to their child when they first killed an animal in hunting, or when a Jarl looked at Orthjolf with thanks. Well, the last one is also mixed with weariness and uncertainty, but that was normal.

"Who are you?" Orthjolf asked roughly and the man gave him a curious look and then looked to the ground, as if shy about announcing his title

"I am Torif Cruel-Sea, perhaps you have heard of me?" He told them mournfully, his fists were clenched and his eyes seemed to tear up. Orthjolf gave him a blank look and he laughed ruefully. "My family are very popular sailors, ship captains, you know, that kind of work." Orthjolf tried, and failed, at giving him a smile, but he gave them a sad smile.

"May I ask why you are in mourning?" Matilda asked, and he shifted his gaze from the frozen ground, to the war maiden in front of him. He stared at her for a moment and his eyes widened.

"SHOR'S BEARD! You are the daughter of the-."

"How about you finish that sentence a little bit louder?" Matilda hissed and instantly quieted the depressed man. He gave her a nod and threw his arms around himself, as if the cold couldn't penetrate his arms.

"Maybe we can talk about my situation in the tavern, the cold isn't great on the lungs, if you know what I mean..." Orthjolf and Matilda did not get the joke, they both lived in rather warmer areas, well warmer than Windhelm. Realizing his attempt of a joke failed, he motioned them to the all too familiar tavern.

The heat blasted their faces and the two hunters sighed. "You see, my wife s-she was taken from me. They took her when I was out to sea, and when I came back to an empty home...it was devastating," he stuttered. Orthjolf asked for three ales, causing the bar maid to give him a once over, then continue to getting his order. Matilda drank hers slowly, but Torif downed his quickly and breathed through his teeth. "She was expecting, too. I was going to be a father, sir. And, she could be dead. Just...I can't think that her life could be so easily forgotten. I want-need her back, she was everything to me, you understan'?" Orthjolf nodded, although he had no idea. When his family died, he accepted their death, but swore revenge. He had a hunch that this man would not think the same way he does.

Matilda sighed and nodded over her tankard. "My brother died from a kidnapper," Torif turned to her, as did Orthjolf, wondering about her brother. She looked them all in the eye, prepared to tell her story. Orthjolf shifted closer to hear over the shouts in the tavern. "He was with me when they struck, they nearly killed him. It-it was when he was training me, that's why you found me in the armour." She told Orthjolf and he nodded solemnly, hoping for her to continue. "When they dragged me into that cave, I thought I was already dead, I thought there was no hope." Matilda's voice quivered and Torif rubbed his hand on her back. Although it was a friendly gesture, Orthjolf felt envious. No one would allow him to do such tender things because no one expected him to do it. Instead he took a gulp of the strong liquid and continued to listen to Matilda.

"But then I heard his voice. He called out to me, he was coming for me. Then he got intercepted by one of the kidnappers and-and they killed him. My brother...the one person who was good in that damned longhouse. And he was the one who was killed. Then I saw him, Orthjolf-sword flying and armour shining," she started to describe him, which made him look away and blush. He didn't enjoy attention, neither praise.

After Matilda finished, the three of them stared at their tankards in silence. One was thinking of the pain he suffered, his life gone before his eyes. Another about their life, what it would be and the goodness they could do. And the last one was thinking about vengeance, anger, and battle plans. The only thing that they all were thinking about was the sacrifices in their lives; brother and home, wife, and lastly family and life. They all knew who suffered the most; the man who could no longer be apart of society because he was nothing like them. His world had been burnt down and a new one was in place. And no vampire was going to take that away from him.

The next morning, Matilda woke up Orthjolf earlier than the sun rose. He would have pushed her away had it not been for the look of excitement in her eyes; it was training day.

"Do you ever sleep?" Orthjolf muttered into his pillow and she laughed.

"Every day, but this one!" and she ripped off his sheets, cold flying into his lightly clothed body. He reached for his sword to scare her away, but his eyes located it in her hand. "Get up!" She ordered and walked out with his trusted weapon.

The loss of a friend was pushing down on the vampire hunter, so he got into his battle wear as quickly as he could, muttering about how some vampires need killing. He managed to get out of the room when a woman stood in front of him. Her eyes were sparking with happiness, blonde strands of hair whisked around her face. She was smiling wildly and she handed him his sword. Matilda gave him one more smile before running down the tavern's hall and flying through the doors. Snow whipped across and he immediately lost her in the flurry of white.

He more slowly opened the door and felt the cold wind pierce his skin. Gritting his teeth, he moved towards the Palace of Kings. After two moments, Orthjolf stopped and grabbed a torch, his fingers barely able to feel the wooden pole. He lowered the fire and felt warmth slowly return to his body. A sigh escaped his lips, it was impossible to live in this city.

The palace came into his sight, he considered running, but he was far too cold. How in the eight was he supposed to teach Matilda in this weather? After two painful minutes, he reached the doors and flew into the warm hall. The blind Jarl was pacing by his chair, his legs occasionally wobbling. Matilda was eating a heated sweet roll and once she saw him she cocked her head to the side in confusion. "What took you so long?"

He glowered at her, a cold shudder running through his body. "The weather is terrible, I do not think that we will be able to train." He stated and sat down on the bench, reaching for a sweet roll.

"WHAT?!" Matilda screeched and he threw his hands in the air in surprise. Even the blind Jarl seemed to jump at her outburst. "You want me to help you, but you'd be okay with sending me into a random cave that I easily could be killed in?"

"I never asked for your help, nor did I need it." Orthjolf replied, and then immediately regretted his harsh words. She stared at him for a moment and the once happiness in her eyes died. She blinked and slowly got up. "Matilda, wait," he started but she walked straight into the cold blizzard and the last thing he saw was her running towards the tavern. He groaned at the dramatic woman and slowly got up, mentally wishing that he could stay by the warmth.

Orthjolf approached the blizzard, eyeing the fast falling snow and sighed, his breath a cloud before him. A heavy boot stomped onto the snow covered ground, and then another. "I just got warm," Orthjolf muttered and jogged through the white city. His eyes were tearing and his cheeks were red as he opened the tavern door. The same laughter and music was playing, like nothing had happened before. He asked the barmaid for a drink, and she went off to find some mead.

As he entered the room her owned before, he noticed a small letter on his bed and his bow was gone.

_Hunter, _

_I am going off to the cave, maybe once you get there you will realize that I am not as weak and pathetic as you thought. But by the way you make your way around storms and snow, I'll probably be back before you get out the doors._

Orthjolf read the letter three times before slamming his head against the wooden beam. "DAMNIT!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Orthjolf seethed, his eyes burning a hole straight through the wooden beam. Matilda had basically written him her last words, because she was right; he didn't believe in her, she wasn't ready to fight these beasts, let alone survive it. He slammed his hand down on his bed and curled his fists over the pelts. Now he had to leave during a storm to find Matilda.

Orthjolf grabbed his sword and sighed as he realized that now he couldn't kill them from a distance. The hunter walked out of the tavern, ignoring the barmaid who failed at flirting with him. "I swear, if the vampires don't kill her, I will," he hissed through his teeth as the cold winds froze his flesh. He loved his homeland and hated it, too. Instead of slowly walking towards the gates, Orthjolf sprinted, his arms pumping and his heavy boots slightly lowering his speed; although, to most he was going extremely fast.

His eyes watered and he started checking off his directions on how to get to High Ridge Point, which was an odd name for a cave, Orthjolf thought to himself. After a couple moments the gods seemed to have blessed him, because he heard as clear as day; "Stupid milk drinker. What he thinks that he is the only one who can kill a vampire? We'll see about that!" The hateful voice of Matilda had filled his ears and he sighed, so relieved that she hadn't died.

Rage suddenly filled him, because he sprinted up behind her and she barely let out a gasp before he gently placed his hands on her neck. She squirmed and then finally gave in. "Not only did you take something that didn't belong to you," Orthjolf started, "but you also thought of charging into a cave filled with who knows how many vampires. Matilda, I believe that you are a fierce warrior..." he sighed. He caught her blush, or maybe it was just the cold weather. "Yet, you do not know what a vampire thinks, how they think, and their fighting style. Nothing! If you had died, I would feel terrible, for the death of another human on my hands would kill me, maybe drive me insane."

Orthjolf lowered his hands and Matilda turned around slowly. "You carry a great weight on your shoulders, Orthjolf, but that doesn't mean you have to be the only one who carries it." This made the lone hunter look up at her smiling face and a warm feeling crawled up his chest. The hunter inside told him it was her trying to cheer him up, but the more humane side told him that she cared, and meant what she said.

A sudden embrace startled him, and he began to realize that it was Matilda who was around him, not some psychotic vampire that wanted to suck away his life force. Was it wrong that that was the first thing he thought of? His arms awkwardly wrapped around the heavily armoured female.

A gust of wind blew his back and he locked his jaw and glared at the invisible winds. Now, of all times, it decided to ruin the moment. Matilda let go and he held back a sigh of disappointment. She took out a torch and laughed, "I thought ahead." Orthjolf couldn't help but give a small smirk, she was learning at least. He scanned the area for any danger before they started to walk again, not trusting the blinding white wall all around him.

"So here you are, no training, no experience, just...?" he asked and she glared at him playfully.

"Spirit and confidence," she replied and he snorted. "What?"

"Those do not help you at all. You should never trust in your spirit, because you are the one who controls it, and you should never be too confident or else the dead will use it to their advantage." He touched the area where his heart would be, "I knew a small town that thought itself too big. And they...never mind." The hunter didn't feel into going into his own sob story, pointless holding onto such tragedies. Matilda gave him a long sad look, very unusual for her energetic personality, and pulled out the bow.

"Would you like this back?" He shook his head and watched the snow under his feet, the squelching of their boots filling their ears. It was hard not to think of his family, but he decided to bury his feelings at a young age, not thinking about who they were. Death comes to us all, their time had passed, and his had not. Occasionally he felt depressed about his part in this world, he felt as though he was pointless. How was he to die? By a vampire? He knew that he would never let himself become one, that was a promise he made to his father and he had kept it for life.

"I'm a good shot, too," Matilda finished and Orthjolf nodded, not catching anything but the ending. Her long golden hair swished back and forth, frost covered strands covering her face and her eyelashes. Occasionally he wondered what it would be like, to live such a simple life. Would he have flirted with women, like some of the men he had encountered done? Or would he have been quiet and shy? He doubted that, due to his explosive and dangerous personality.

"How were you raised?" Matilda asked him, he look at her, startled, he was wondering the same thing a moment ago.

"I-I don't remember." He admitted, cursing himself for stuttering. He could blame it on the cold.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed. He wanted to tell her about his life, but something kept him quiet, be it his inner self or his hatred towards his past. Either one kept his lips tight.

Realizing that this was conversation he used her question, "How were you raised?"

She cocked her head to the side in deep thought, as if she had to mull over her past. "Well, frankly, it was terrible. My mother died when she gave birth to me, and my father blamed me, as if I was the one who had killed her." Matilda turned towards Orthjolf with tears in her eyes, "I guess that feeling has never left me. That I killed my mother." She looked away, rubbing her eyes and the hunter clenched his fists in anger.

"Your father was the one to blame. I know that your mother definitely loved you, even if she didn't know you. You can't say that it was your fault, when she made the ultimate sacrifice. She saved you, and your father can't wrap his head around your mother saving a life." Matilda stared at him for a minute, but Orthjolf continued to walk, not noticing the staring woman.

"We better hurry up, the storm is getting worse, we should seek shelter," he exclaimed and started to look around. It was only when he turned back to ask Matilda something when he saw her holding out a tent roll. He breathed out a heavy sigh, "You are a divine!" She blushed.

It took Orthjolf double the amount of time; his mind was somewhere else. He kept thinking of how she had been looking at him. Most of the time people looked at him with distaste, fear or surprise. She looked at him like he was..._someone. _Not just some tool of mass destruction or a guy with blood on his sword. He felt noticed, although he never necessarily cared for other people's opinions, in fact, he rather detested people. Admitting it was rather embarrassing, he didn't want to sound like some kind of vampire. But it seemed that people cared for one thing only; themselves. Although many Nords went to Sovngarde because they were great 'warriors' most of them did it for their own advantage; leaders not wanting to rule to lead their land to glory, but to have power; an honest man working his way to the top, not for the honest work, but for the mass amounts of money. The only type of people he could honestly think of that were honest with themselves were thieves. Maybe assassins, but the way he hears it, they do it for religion. Although he will never judge one's religion, how can you be sure that that is really what they kill for?

They could hide beneath their religion, but in the end, they want to kill. Thieves don't go behind religion; they don't say that they do it for the balance of the world or for the glory of their country. Thieves steal for the thrill and mostly the money. That is being true to yourself.

But as he thought about it, he realized that he was just as guilty. Was he really killing vampires to save or help the world? Or was he out for revenge, personal gain? It dawned on him in that moment and finally, he agreed. Yes, he was killing them for the sake of his lost life, for his family; the dead family that had no mercy. A sneer flew onto his face and he worked faster, rage building up inside of him. The blood sucking bastards, not knowing when to give up, but he will show them!

"Orthjolf!" screamed Matilda, her face flushed from the screech and cold. He blinked, his vision clearing from the red that had been tinting it. He slowly turned to her, the effects of his rage eventually fading, too. Her eyes were squinting and her hands clutched her arms.

"What is it?" he asked and she sighed. A pang of guilt rushed into his heart, but was whisked away. So what? He was busy.

"I said, maybe I should do it because you seem to be having a bit of trouble." The hunter looked down and realized that she was right, the tent was a mess. He gave her a weak smile and backed off, allowing her to finish.

He watched in fascination as her deft hands worked the tent up. She heaved and pushed, threw and slammed the stakes into the ground. In less than two minutes the tent was up. She smiled and backed up, examining her work. The killer ran into the tent, warmth still tucked away where he couldn't find it. He stuck his head back out and Matilda smiled. Her finger pointed in the thick of the blizzard and she yelled something about rocks.

He touched his ear, motioning for her to repeat and she screamed, "I saw some good rocks over there! Get me some for a fire pit!" The hunter gave a weary glance at the whistling winds and the whip-like snow and looked at her for confirmation. She nodded her head and he groaned. This woman was getting more oppressive by the day.

The morning approached and Orthjolf awoke to the smell of meat. He sighed, knowing that the vampires were still probably out there, plotting world domination, while Matilda wanted food. No more of this, he thought.

"Matilda, we are leaving. Now." The hunter began packing up the tent, retracing everything Matilda did. After a couple of moments, he heard her sigh into submission and they set off. Judging from the map, they were about ten minutes away from the lair, which made Orthjolf smile menacingly.

"So why did you start this?" a feminine voice asked him. He glared at the dirty snow and continued walking, hoping she'd understand that he really didn't want to talk to her. Sadly, it didn't work the first time.

"Well?" She inquired and he clenched his fists, memories coming back in strong waves. After a moment of closing his eyes and muting the childhood, he breathed deeply through clenched teeth.

"Not now," and he walked faster and angrier. Matilda huffed.

The cave came into view and he smiled, his feet bouncing with every step, as a child would on his birthday. Orthjolf pulled out his sword and continued to walk. The darkened cave approaching with every step he took.

It was dark, darker than before and he couldn't help but look over his shoulder to see how Matilda was doing. She looked worried, her eyes darting to every corner and her hands clutching his bow. He smirked, thinking about the first time he had hunted them. Not nervous, just angry. He continued to tiptoe down the darkened cave, his feet not making a noise. That was when he heard it; the painful screams of a familiar voice. It couldn't be...

"Brother?" Matilda called out, her voice frightened and quivering. Orthjolf winced at her loud voice.

"Shh, it couldn't possibly be him, Matilda. He-,"

"Matilda, gods, HELP ME!" The voice called out and Matilda broke into a sprint. Cursing, Orthjolf held his sword out and began to run after her, but she was definitely faster than him. She rounded a corner and a then a loud yelp filled the musty air.

The hunter ran around the corner and stopped. To say that it was a maze would be an understatement. Twenty eight paths that led to gods know where stared back at him.

"That's right, _hunter,_" a mocking voice called out, "Where is she?" Orthjolf spun his head around, but the voice laughed, now coming from another direction. "Or where am I?"

"Tell me where she is! Fight me!" He yelled, but the voice laughed.

"I am no fool, hunter, I know that you have killed thousands of my new kinsmen. But, I guess I can spare a small hint...

"I am in the one on your exact left, but she is in the one right in front of you." Two torches suddenly lighted on his left and in front of him, telling him his two options. As he went for Matilda's supposed location, the vampire hissed. "But one more little detail. If you go after her, I go after Windhelm." Orthjolf stopped in his tracks. "But if you go after me, she dies." He stared around the room.

"Damn you!" He screamed and charged into the room in front of him. He couldn't have let her die, couldn't have allowed her to fall into the grasps of the vampires. He could save Windhelm with the help of the guards, but no one would help her. It was the right thing to do, he continued to tell himself.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock. Hurry up Orthjolf, or you might make it to her with nothing to show for but a dead body!" Orthjolf sprinted, rage tinting his vision red. He would kill this vampire for sure, nice and slowly. She couldn't die, not here. Not when he finally could tell her, that he had feelings for her. Feelings that he had never felt in anyone.

"Please don't die," he whispered under his breath. Suddenly he reached the cold room and in it stood a man. Not Matilda and he soon realized, not a man either. Clapping filled his ears and Orthjolf stood in disbelief at what had just happened. She wasn't here.

"That's right, great hunter. You can't see your little companion, but not to worry." Orthjolf looked up, was there any hope left? "You see, she is here, but is I found out that she was suffering from Ataxia, not the nicest disease to be suffering, correct?" Orthjolf stood, muted to the spot. So?

"Correct!?" He screamed and Orthjolf stumbled back.

"Correct." The hunter answered and the man in shadows spread his arms.  
"Correct," he sighed, "So, I thought that I could...help her out. Save her from this terrible disease." The vampire started to pace, "I could give her a potion, that might help. Force feed her the feather of a hawk, like my father did to me as a child." He spat out the last statement. "Or maybe, Orthjolf, I could help her out, like your master did to you. Give her a gift she would always want? No?"

Orthjolf stared at him in complete disbelief, how did he know?

"Nothing to say, _hunter_?" he mocked him. "And your smell gave you away, in case you are wondering."

"WHERE IS SHE!?" Orthjolf roared. The man jumped back, but Orthjolf took a step forward.

"Now, now," he stuttered, "You have to wait and see." His voice darkened and suddenly bright lights filled the room. The last thing he heard was a hiss, but the vampire was gone, and Matilda was in shackles. Her eyes were shut and her head was lolling to one side. In complete despair, Orthjolf gently shook her, but she didn't react.

"She passed out when I saved her from that dreaded disease. Shame she won't open her pretty little eyes up right now. Do you remember what her eye colour was?" The man asked, and Orthjolf roared.

"What would you care?"

A sickening, maniacal laugh broke across every wall. "I would care, dear Orthjolf, because," and he stepped out in the light, his skin sizzling, and said, "I am her brother."

Orthjolf gaped at the familiar face. "But you were-,"

"Dead? No, the damn weak little vampire turned me into her little pet, but then I stuck a dagger into her throat." He hissed, backing out of the sunlight. "Funny how there is the possibility of twins, no. You killed her sister, causing her to go into complete rage, which also gave me the chance to kill her, her weakness was her end. But you will see Matilda alive," the vampire took another step towards Orthjolf and then nodded behind him. Seeing the trap, Orthjolf plunged his sword into the body behind him, whom the vampire had nodded to.

A slam in the back of his head stunned him and he felt his consciousness give away. "Well, alive would be a stretch."

The room was dark, but a beam of sunlight-no moonlight was on Orthjolf's pale face. He felt a familiar tingle in his face, but decided that he had the strength to ignore the calling. He looked around and saw empty shackles by where Matilda had once stood.

"You know," a warm, familiar voice called out. "I had loved you for saving me, Orthjolf." He turned around, his head weak from the light.

"Matilda, you have to go...now. Please, I am too weak to-,"

"Fend off the change, oh, I know, Orthjolf. You lied to thousands, saying it was your own strength that saved you, not anything unnatural as lycanthropy or vampirism. But he told me, he told me all about your little secret." Her voice was unusually cold, causing Orthjolf's heart to drop. What was wrong with her?

"Matilda, he's not your brother anymore...would your brother do this to someone who has helped thousands? Would he shackle you to prove a point? He's a vampire and-,"

"- my brother," she hissed and finally stepped out of the dark. Her head was bowed and her long blonde hair was out of its usual braid. It flowed down, and covered her face. Her hands were clutched in front of her, a long and elegant sword in her hands. "Have I ever told you of my skill with the sword?" and she walked towards Orthjolf.

A blast of pain erupted in his face and he moaned, fur sprouting at his cheeks. He shook his head and managed to stay human. Matilda bent down and stroked his cheek. He noticed that she no longer was in steel armour, but now in black, royal clothing. Fit for her original title as daughter of a Jarl. She stood and sighed.  
"Why do you fight back, Orthjolf, this is your true form. Embrace it."

"Embrace what? A monster, Matilda? Embrace the fact that I lose all the control that I once had and allow myself to harm the people of Skyrim?" he hissed and Matilda laughed.

"The people who look at you in fear and disgust, are those the ones you are talking about? The people who have no idea what you had gone through and allow them to mock you. Face it, no matter what you do they will never call upon you with respect and love. No one will expect you to go to Sovngarde after this. Why do you fight?" Her back was still turned to him and he sighed and looked away.

"I fight for myself." Matilda turned slightly. "I will revenge my family that died, Matilda. And I will kill one vampire at a time until there are no more to kill on Nirn. And I won't stop there; I will eliminate anything that tries to hurt the people of this world, and of any world. From that day of my father and mother dying in front of me, I gave an oath; an oath that I took into my life from that day on."

Orthjolf stood, a sudden strength of spirit stopping him from turning. "Honour, Matilda. Do you remember what that is?"

The woman turned and her eyes burned red and hateful, causing Orthjolf to stumble back in shock. "And what of love, Orthjolf? Did love ever get in the way?" Her skin was pale and her lips were stained red with blood. A vampire, that was what she had become.

"Not until you." He took a step forward and ignoring the sensation to kill, he grabbed her hand and brought it onto his heart. "You made it beat again, Matilda, brought back something that I thought had died." Her red eyes lifted to his and he brought her chin up to his face and kissed her. She was frozen in place, but Orthjolf was the one to break away.

"But, I am...I..." she muttered and Orthjolf caressed her cheek as she had done. She stopped and looked into his eyes. "You are Matilda, but right now, I need to know where your brother is. The people of Eastmarch are in trouble, trouble that could kill them. I need to-ahh!" and pain lifted higher and higher in Orthjolf's side. He looked down and saw the blade of a dagger sticking from his side. Silver.

"Funny what we share in common, no?" Matilda's brother asked, his voice echoing in the cave.

Matilda screamed and lowered herself to Orthjolf's side. "No, no. You promised you wouldn't hurt him, you-YOU PROMISED!" Matilda screeched and she drew her blade. In agony, Orthjolf turned and saw her brother with his hands up, a smirk on his face.

"Now, now, Matilda. All you asked was for me not to _kill_ him. The silver is doing that." Matilda's arm shook and her brother took this as a sign of weakness and he put his arms around her. "He's a werewolf, sister, he killed innocent people. He knows nothing, but to kill. Tell me I am wrong."

Orthjolf stared into her eyes as his instincts kicked in, he needed to survive. With all his strength, he ripped out the dagger, blood oozing from his wound and he slowly stood up.

"No, Lucan. You are wrong," she started. Lucan backed away from her in confusion. "_You _killed innocent people, for no reason. _You _now only know to kill. You are not Lucan, you are not my brother. You are just some blood sucking maniac who is in the dead skin of the Jarl's son. And I will kill you."

A roar erupted into the caves and Orthjolf was gone, but in his place stood a massive wolf, hunched over and snarling. Saliva dripped down his mouth and matted the auburn hair that surrounded his whole body. Then it let out another howl and looked straight at Matilda.

She saw nothing of familiarity to the man she loved, nothing but the eyes that told her his words. Leave. But as she finally understood, even the eyes lost the colour of Orthjolf's and instead there were only golden eyes, glaring menacingly at Lucan. She looked at her brother and for the last time, she let a tear fall down her face. "Goodbye, Lucan."

Lucan watched his sister leave, knowing that this was the ultimate battle, the battle that would show Harkon that he wasn't a force to be messed with. He had ordered him to come to Solitude, but that was obviously impossible. He couldn't have faced this killer in Solitude, the capital, along with thousands of guards around him. So somehow, Orthjolf finds out about his hideout and is ordered to kill him. Funny how Harkon hadn't expected the connection between his self and Matilda, but it was a shame his plan didn't work out.

Either way, he was going to kill Orthjolf, then he would send his sister to the pits of Oblivion for betraying him for a dog.

A howl broke him away from his thoughts and he looked up to see the wolf snarling at him. "Alright, Orthjolf," he smiled, "Let's dance."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The two beasts stared at each other, rivals through the ages. The wolf growled; the madness and rage in his eyes causing the vampire to clench his sword's hilt more nervously. Lucan knew that Orthjolf was very strong and powerful, but was his lesser being any better? Werewolves are very strong, but they have no control. He could use that to his advantage.

His thoughts were broken when the beast lunge. The auburn werewolf's teeth flashed in the light, and the vampire twirled, evading the incoming attack. The beast lowered itself to all fours and circled the vampire.

"Come now, Orthjolf, is that all you can do?" taunted the undead man and the wolf howled to the moon and lunged. Once again he easily dodged the attack and laughed at the wolf's attempt. Guess Orthjolf isn't as powerful as he would like to say he is. But just as he thought of the words, something snapped onto his leg.

Lucan howled as the wolf had previously done and spun his sword, impaling a spectral wolf's head. A whine escaped the animal before it fell, dead. "Enough games!" he cried and jumped at the beast. Rage filled the animal's eyes and it slashed its powerful claws at Lucan, who slid underneath Orthjolf's legs. He put his hands to his mouth and a sharp whistle echoed the cave. As the beast looked around in confusion, he slashed the werewolf's thigh, and managed to leap away in time before a powerful swipe indented the rock which he had been laying on moments ago. Orthjolf took the moment of weakness and jumped onto Lucan, who failed in avoiding this attack.

He cried out and attempted to pull away from the beast's grip, but he knew that it would be impossible. What a werewolf lacked in intelligence, it made up in strength. Moaning, he managed to sink his sword into the wolf's leg, but it didn't seem to notice the pain, its rage was astounding. The wolf roared in the vampire's face; spit covering his face. Just as he thought the wolf would demolish his neck, a flash of white streaked the cave and another vampire struck the wolf's back. Orthjolf howled in pain and backhanded the man behind him, who then flew into a wall and took his time to get back up. Still pinned by the wolf, Lucan yelled out, "Get up, before it kills both of us!" His right hand man shook his head and managed to get to his feet. He sprinted at the wolf and slashed its back once again, and then leaped over the wolf.

Crazed, the animal forgot about Lucan and sprinted after his friend, who gave a startled cry as the wolf pounced on him. Lucan watched in horror as the wolf succeeded in demolishing his friend. Now in total bloodlust, the wolf charged at Lucan with more strength imaginable, and pushed him against the wall. In complete despair, Lucan, sword still in hand, slashed weakly at the beast's fur. This only managed to enrage the werewolf more and it roared in his face. The smell of blood and silver filled his nose and he weakly lifted his sword, only to get it swatted out of his hands. But before his throat got devoured, the force on his arms weakened, and the wolf backed away before smoke enveloped its body. From the smoke stumbled the red haired man, Orthjolf. Tired and weak, his green eyes dim and his hair dishevelled. Feeling in control, Lucan approached the hunter and punched him as hard as he could. Orthjolf flew to the ground and Lucan laughed.

"Look at you, weak like all the others. You can't even control your changes," he laughed, but before he could taunt the man any more, Orthjolf lunged at the vampire. Their angry and hate filled screams enveloped the now empty cave.

Matilda moved quickly to Windhelm, her arms pumping her sides. She couldn't remember much; did they bring horses? What were they here for? Every since her brother bit her neck and she became the monster that was hated throughout the world, she couldn't remember much. She did remember Orthjolf, everything about him, really. Although to say why she loved the man so much was hard to say. She couldn't remember how they met, or how why he liked her. But she knew that she loved him dearly and she now knew that he felt the same way. Her brother fooled her, making her believe him as a man who killed thousands of innocence. How could she be such an idiot?

It broke her heart to know that she hurt him too. The look of utter defeat in his eyes when she so hatefully glared at him, accusing him of acts he had not done, it tore into her. But she will return the favour; she would help save the city, WIndhelm. They deserved to be saved; Orthjolf would do it and now so would she. Matilda remembered the vampires surrounding her brother just hours before. How had he gotten so many? Although it was hard to remember, she knew that he couldn't have been a vampire for too long. And to have so many followers? Impossible.

The fledgling looked up and saw the great city come into view; she had come here faster than expected. Sounds of screams and laughter filled the air and the woman ran as fast as she could (which was very fast) and flew through the gates. Her eyes scanned the darkness and heard the clashing of swords and the startled cries of the guards. "How do we kill these damn things?" a woman with a thick accent called out. Matilda unsheathed her sword and snuck around in the darkness, her feet making no noise on the snow. A woman ran past her, screaming for help. Matilda jumped out and threw her against the wall, just before a vampire leaped to destroy her.

The two vampires circled each other, this one's face wrinkled like a bat's and his eyes more crazed than the werewolf she had encountered. "What do we have here? No pumping of the heart? How...interesting," he cackled, causing Matilda's hair on her neck to stand up. How could one lose their humanity like this one had? She begged the divines that nothing like this would ever happen to her. If the divines even cared about her, now that she was a monster. Her attacker stood with arrogance, watching her like she was nothing but a child. Although she was just out of her teens, she knew how to fight and how to kill.

Raising her elegant sword, she ran at him, watching his feet for the direction he was to dodge her attack. He shifted to the left and as he jumped to dodge her feinted lunge, she spun in mid air and sliced the vampire's head clean off. Blood splattered her face and she wiped it off, disgusted with the vampire before her. Matilda looked at the woman who was backed into the corner and the new vampire motioned for her to come out.

"It is safe now, but I'd advise to bar yourself into your home. Quickly now!" She ordered and the woman ran out in fear, not bothering to thank Matilda. So this was how Orthjolf felt, thought the woman.

Sheathing her weapon, she ran up to the Palace of Kings and opened the doors, knowing that she needed to inform the Jarl of the current situation. When she got in, she didn't expect to see the 'blind' man pacing the room. His eyes glowed yellow and were glaring at the floor. His hands were behind his back and two guards lay dead at his feet. Blood splattered the throne and she gasped at the sight. Matilda realized her mistake and the vampire looked at her and smiled. "Ahh, and what are you thinking you are doing, little fledgling, did Lucan send you here to kill me? Hilarious that one." Confused, Matilda put her hand on her sword and asked the man.

"Do you not recognize me?" She asked him, knowing that he is obviously not blind. He tilted his head to the side and suddenly his eyes widened with surprise and he laughed.

"You are the one who was with Orthjolf, the vampire hunter. Yet, now I think about it, you have changed, correct?" He asked and Matilda nodded calmly. "Yes, you seem a little paler and last I remember, your eyes weren't red," he laughed and she clutched her sword's hilt harder now.

"Lucan is," she hesitated, "not here in the city, but he plans on destroying this whole city. Maybe you think this is a great idea, but what happens when he follows up with his plan?" she informed the vampire.

"And what is his plan?" asked the fake Jarl. Matilda bared her teeth in anger and looked around at the dead guards.

"He wants to give everyone this gift," she motioned between herself and the vampire. "And I mean _everyone_. He wants to make clans and turn cities into the undead, soon he wants to literally destroy all elves and men, turn them all into vampires. I don't care what you want with me or Orthjolf, or even this city. But your food supply is going to go down the tubes if you don't help me stop him." Matilda looked at the man in front of her, pleading him and his face was red with anger.

"What a fool! A child! Yes, I will rip out his bones, drink him dry of his stolen blood and flail him alive. Starting a war with mankind is not what our kind needs right now." He hissed, "But I need more people, more clans to help."

"Why? It is only a few vampires he had with him," Matilda asked him and the vampire laughed.

"Fledgling, he has thousands of vampires with him." He replied more solemnly. Matilda stared at him in confusion.

"But how?" She asked him and he smiled, fangs protruding from his red lips.

"His father was a King of thousands of people. A whole army. Then his father suddenly became a vampire due to a trip North to some place, I don't really know the details. Realizing his potential, he turned all his army into vampires. Don't ask me how he did it in less than a week, but he did. Once that was finished, he split them apart into clans. Then he managed to become a Jarl of some place and adopted two children. One was Lucan and one was a girl named...oh. I didn't even get that connection until now, how hilarious." The vampire uttered and then smiled.

"Your father was a vampire and then I guess, well, not to be the deliverer of bad news but...you father died from your brother. And then he took over the army. So, that is why. But, a question," the man asked and Matilda raised her eyebrow in response, "Where is Orthjolf?"

The two men wrestled on the snow, Lucan's teeth flashing, aiming for Orthjolf's neck, while Orthjolf slammed his fist into Lucan's face. Blood was splattered over both of their faces, but Lucan was getting the worst of it.

"I will end your existence!" He screeched and bit Orthjolf's arm. Orthjolf groaned in pain and grabbed the vampire's neck, slamming his head it into the ground. Would this vampire ever die? Orthjolf lifted him by his neck higher and higher and threw him against a wall. The head snapped forward, but Lucan managed to get back up.

"So what do you think of this? Of Matilda being undead now. You have to kill her, she will have to feed on human blood, and if she doesn't she will become starved," he hissed, spitting out blood. "And then, what will you do? Continue on like nothing had ever happened? You are more trapped than ever, Orthjolf. Face it, no sword or claw will save you! Why do you fight?" He laughed and lifted his arms around.

Orthjolf clenched his fists and slowly moved towards the sword that lay forgotten on the ground. "I fight because of beasts like you, beasts who would hurt their own sisters for the sake of vengeance, split apart their families. How would your father feel about this?" he hissed and Lucan laughed.

"Not sure, wolf, I believe that he would be angry...I killed him after all," he replied and Orthjolf gaped at the man in front of him.

This was no longer the boy who went looking for his sister, the boy who thought about the good for someone else's sake. No, he was a monster, more of a monster than Orthjolf himself, who kills without feelings, because this Lucan would kill without a care in the world. For no reason at all. "Why?" Orthjolf asked, "Why do you do all of this? What are you achieving?" Lucan paced the room in front of him, Orthjolf noted on how he wouldn't move any closer to him. The sword was inches away, now.

"I want to help mankind. They know nothing about the gift that can come from vampirism. They only know what they think is the truth. That we are beasts," he sneered, "Beasts that have no laws, no ideas. Monsters that only feed for the sake of it."

"And that is not what you are?" Orthjolf hissed and he chuckled.

"No, that is not what we are. We are higher beings, beings that have no need to be held down by the ropes of mortality, shackled from our true potential. Humans and mer lack agility like vampires, strength like vampires, even the knowledge of vampires. We could be the strongest race in the whole world, over throw the daedra, over throw the _divines_! We could live by our own way." He was ranting now like a madman and Orthjolf flipped the sword up and caught it. He pointed it at the vampire and laughed.

"You've lost your mind, vampire. People can't live like you think they can. They need sunlight, and having powers are great, but being sucked into your world would be useless. What happens when you decide that you think you can rule them better, hmm? What, will you take control of their free will, and then what happens when you start a war. Kin fighting kin, all for power, because that's all you people want." Orthjolf swung the blade around in his hand.

"And what do you suggest?" Lucan growled.

Orthjolf cocked his head to the side and smiled, revealing pointed teeth, "That I rip you apart," and he lunged. Lucan managed to pull out a small dagger and he blocked Orthjolf's hit, but in doing so, the blade cracked in half. Orthjolf allowed himself to change slightly and his fingers now had pointed talons and he felt large fangs produce from his mouth. His senses heightened and he watched through a black and white vision, seeing Lucan glow an undead blue. "I guess you didn't expect me to have control over my powers, did you?"The half wolf managed to spit out and Lucan backed away in fear. "Are you afraid?" Orthjolf snarled and he swung the sword again and again, until Lucan dodged under him and ran to the nearest corner.

Orthjolf approached him, but Lucan held up a hand surrounded in red magick. Orthjolf saw that no longer was the hand glowing red, but pictures were starting to form. Sounds erupted and he heard the screams of a familiar scene erupt before him. He saw his mother, his father and even his siblings crying and dying begging for him to help them. But he couldn't, he was afraid. He saw Matilda dying in front of him, getting her blood drained, he saw his foster father getting torn to shreds by his werewolf, and he finally saw himself standing on a mound of all the bodies of the people he loves, a wicked smile one his face and red eyes glowing down at him.

"No..." he fell to his knees, "Gods...no," he felt his heart racing and saw Lucan approach, muttering something about the bonuses of magick. Just as he reached Orthjolf, a hand grabbed his neck and threw him against the wall. All he heard was a familiar voice mocking Lucan.

"Do you truly believe that you could succeed in your little plan, hmm, kinsmen?" the man that threw him asked.

"L-lord Harkon, I have no idea what you think I-I did, but I tell you it's all-," stuttered Lucan.

"-lies?! Do you believe that I what I say is wrong? That I am wrong? For your foolish doings, I will destroy you." He stated calmly, " You ruined my plans, fool! To help us all and you ruined it! By playing the act of the hero, you delayed me and my plans. Good thing I still had some loyal subjects," he looked at Matilda and Orthjolf turned to see Matilda's sword pressed to Lucan's cheek. What is Matilda doing with that vampire, Harkon?

A hiss escaped Lucan's mouth and he laughed and sparks flew from his hands. In a split second, him and Matilda disappeared and all that was left was the most powerful vampire and the most powerful vampire hunter.

They stared at each other for a moment. Half of it was awkward, the other half was enraging. This was Harkon, the man who put him and Matilda through all this trouble? And what was this about Matilda being his subject? No, he would pay for his crimes, and then Orthjolf would find Matilda and kill Lucan. Wherever they might be, he will find them.

"So, we finally meet," Orthjolf hissed through his clenched teeth and Harkon bowed mockingly. His eyes were glowing yellow, unlike most Nordic vampires, but there was something familiar about him.

"I believe we have already met," he replied and then put his hands over his eyes. Orthjolf gasped as he recognized the blind Jarl. Anger rippled through him and he charged at Harkon. The vampire kicked him back and a shock spell flew past Orthjolf. They charged at one another for a couple moments, both of them baring their teeth and lunging at different times. Harkon was the one who broke away and he lifted a finger to his lips. "Stop," he ordered and Orthjolf held out his blade to make sure it wasn't a trap. "I know you want to find your undead girlfriend, and I want to find that damnable Lucan. As long as he is alive, he will try to turn everyone into vampires."

"And what do you want?" The hunter spat and Harkon gazed at him calmly. "Is that not your plan, too?" he asked and Harkon laughed darkly.

"No, human, that is not my 'plan'. Nor is it your worry, for I'm still working out the small details on how to get my plan into action. Anyway, you can either allow me to help you find your friend and help me find the thorn in my side, or we can continue to battle pointlessly. Choose." Orthjolf glared at him and after a moment, sighed and lowered his weapon.

"Fine, but just as long as you don't hurt Matilda," he replied and watched him closely. The vampire shrugged and nodded.

"Deal." He smiled and Orthjolf watched him uncertainly. "First, we are going to need to infiltrate a number of those clans that he has, and then we are going to need get some information from their leaders. Lucan obviously went somewhere we would never find, somewhere that only his most trusted vampires would know." Harkon pondered this for a moment and Orthjolf rolled his eyes.

"How many clans does he have?" he asked and Harkon sighed and looked to the ceiling.

"About...twelve. Yes, twelve clans all connected to the same leader, Lucan." He informed him and then he turned to Orthjolf, a wicked smile on his face. "It's been a while since I've been in the field!"

They reached the first entrance to a beautiful palace a day after that. The morning had been coming and they had to delay to give the vampire some rest.

"Don't let the exterior fool you, this place is a death trap," he told Orthjolf and they took one step forward. Instantly, the clanking and slamming of doors opening filled the whole valley they entered. Glowing eyes stared down at the two men and they both looked around in astonishment. "Told you," Harkon whispered, "Death trap." And a woman appeared from a huge doorway. She was as black as night, so Orthjolf guessed she must have been a redguard, her eyes were glowing yellow and her fangs produced from blood covered lips.

"And what does someone from the Volkihar clan want with me?" came a thick accent and Harkon bowed. He kept one hand behind his back and another in front of him, gesturing as he talked.

"You see, Amand, we are looking for your leader, Lucan," he replied and she snorted.

"Like I would know where Lord Lucan is, why do you care, Harkon?" she hissed and he clenched his hands that were now filled with sparks. His body enveloped with dark mist, but then it subsided and he straightened himself. Orthjolf pulled out his sword and pointed it at her.

"Because as long as he keeps breathing, all of you vampires are going to die, that's why." Orthjolf watched as more and more of the vampires began to hiss in anger and defiance. Amand hissed loudly and they all shut up.

"How dare you bring him here, a dog, and you allow him to _talk_." Harkon laughed again and she backed away in shock at his amusement.

"Do you know how many vampires he has killed, Amand? No? It is his job to kill us, and he has succeeded in it for a while. So, how about you learn to respect me and my associate, before your head goes to my collection," he hissed and she swallowed nervously. "Because if you haven't noticed, you are facing the most powerful vampire and hunter in all of Tamriel, understand?" She nodded. "Now, do you know where he is?" and she shook her head.

"I haven't heard from him in a while, he just told us to ready our armies, and make them bigger." She seemed to understand the threat Orthjolf and Harkon held and Harkon seemed pleased with his new power over her.

"Excellent, now, I will spare your life for your newfound respect towards me and my friend. But I will not spare your clan. Politics, right?" Her eyes widened and she yelled out,

"KILL THEM!" Orthjolf gave Harkon a look of insanity, but the man was standing calmly. Vampires were getting progressively closer and he suddenly started clutching his stomach, hunching over in pain.

"Not now..." Orthjolf moaned at Harkon whose body continued to spasm, and he charged at a group of vampires. His blade rolled on the ground and then he lifted it up, cutting a deep wound into the first vampire. It screamed and he twirled and sliced its head clean off. He continued to parry and dodge, stabbing and slashing until twenty or so vampires lay at his feet. In complete harmony with his sword, he managed to eliminate another three vampires before he turned to see where Harkon was, Orthjolf expected that Harkon was to betray him.

Oddly enough, when he looked for Harkon, he was not there. Instead, there stood at least thirty vampires attacking something, something large and ominous. Where Harkon had once been, stood a monstrous sized beast with razor talons, ripped wings and bat like features. Its mouth was surrounded with sharp fangs that were sinking into an enthralled bandit's neck. Hearing a hiss, Orthjolf spun around and ducked as a vampire launched itself at him. The undead man landed a few feet away and charged Orthjolf with no apparent tactic. It raised its axe, aiming at the hunter's head, but Orthjolf launched him back with a kick to his stomach.

The hunter then ran at the fallen vampire and heaved his heavy sword into its head. Blood splashed onto Orthjolf face, matching his bright red hair and he grimaced. His eyes looked up again at the beast that once was Harkon and watched as pure magic blasted every second. Bodies flew from one end to another in the red light and as the last one charged blindly, the beast raised his hand and the vampire flew into the air. It struggled for a moment, holding its neck, trying to breathe, but it went limp and Harkon lowered his hand. Black mist then surrounded him and when he stepped out, veins surrounded Harkon's body. A grim look was on his face and he looked up at Orthjolf, the blood red veins dissipating, revealing the porcelain skin of the vampire.

"Where is Amand?" he asked roughly and Orthjolf looked around. The place was barren, birds chirped and the smell of blood and sweat filled the two men's noses.

"How dare you!" shrieked a voice from behind them. The two turned and saw the vampire snarling at them. "My whole clan, DEAD! Because of _you_! You will certainly die for this!" she pointed at Orthjolf. Orthjolf stretched his hand to the his back and clutched the hilt of his sword, glaring at the woman.

"Where is Lucan!" Harkon whispered, but Orthjolf had the feeling that she easily heard her. The woman clenched her fists and held her head high.

"Unlike you and your dog, I have my loyalties straight. I will never betray Lucan!" Although to Orthjolf, she didn't give off any information, Harkon was smiling as brightly as ever.

"Why, Amand, are you imply that you do know where he is?" he asked and Amand swallowed nervously. Orthjolf chuckled, he had to admit, Harkon was very clever.

"I-I..." Amand stuttered and Orthjolf grinned wickedly at her, as Harkon smiled, baring his long, ivory fangs.

"I believe we have some business to attend to, Orthjolf," Harkon laughed and Orthjolf walked closer to the woman.

"I believe we do."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Her eyes stared at the two men in disbelief. This was sacrilege, a vampire and hunter teaming up? How could one merely allow this to happen, be alright with the danger. Especially Harkon, the most ancient vampire to ever live on Nirn, he was a legend. They fought together in harmony, too. It was as if they were more than fighting partners, but brothers. She shivered at the disgrace that now took her eyes. Had Harkon not realized how disturbing working with a mortal was? But he was beyond mortal, he was worse, a werewolf and it disgusted her.

Harkon cleared his throat and she looked up. Amand's wrists burnt from being shackled in her own trap. The clamps were made out of silver; something she used on her vampires when they got out of line. Now the joke was on her. After dragging the woman out of the main courtyard, the men had scourged the palace and to her surprise, let out all of the cattle. How had that wolf convinced him to let out all of her thralls? It was madness. She struggled to break free, but then moaned when pain erupted in her hands. She looked up and gasped at the cruel grin that was on the mortal's face. She immediately stopped struggling and raised her chin in defiance. This only caused the red haired nord to smile even more.

"So, are you ready to tell us more on where your master is?" the ancient vampire hissed and she swallowed nervously but focused her attention on the wall behind them. Harkon tilted his head to the side playfully and grabbed her chin. "Do you wish to live, or not Amand? If so, you must merely tell us where he is. Who knows, maybe you can get a spot in my own court if you do tell us where he is?" He whispered into her ear and her eyes widened. It was said that his court was the most powerful in the world. If he brought her into his court...she could overpower Lucan, she could learn from the strongest vampires...the possibilities were endless. A smile crawled onto her face and she looked into Harkon's face.

"I know not where he currently is, but I do know the places where he could be," she told the two, who each shared a look indifferent to each others. The man's was full of rage, violence and just slightly hope. While the vampire's face was filled with slight interest and, like the red haired man's expression, hope. She decided that they were both hopeful for different reasons.

"Well?! Where is she...he?" he hissed and Amand cocked an eyebrow. So, there was not just Lucan involved, but someone else. Interesting. For a moment, Amand stared at the human. To say that he was human would be an overstatement, because he looked more like a beast than anything. His eyes were flaming, not with the vampiric red, but with some hybrid's eyes. Mixed with green, which many would find calm, but with a face so filled with pent up rage that his eyes seemed to burst. His hair was more like flames, because it was wild and tangled, but not in the poor man's way, this was a warrior's way. He had a warrior's build as well and his deathly sword on his back concluded her statement. His armour was dangerous and bent from fights. Familiar teeth and claw marks showed all of his victories.

Amand looked to Harkon who was waiting patiently, and then back to the rage monster beside him. She cleared her throat. "There are twelve main clans. Mine is the fifth. The second most powerful would be the second," she looked to the wolf who was now staring at her as Harkon was, patiently. So he really isn't just some beast, she thought. "He would be probably located under the first four and be heavily guarded."

The man shifted and looked to Harkon in almost a strategic manner. "Where are these clans," he asked her and she gasped at his calm voice. It wasn't as terrifying as in his anger. His eyes seemed to dim slightly of the rage and all that was in his eyes was melancholy. Who was this woman that Lucan wanted so badly. His wife? No, he didn't look the type to marry, but...it made no sense. She couldn't see anything of longing or of pain, just hope and a manner of calmness. Maybe he was too confident. She could sneer at him, but there was something holding her back. Not this man, but maybe the situation. Not being bound, which was enraging her, but being in the shadow of this man. Maybe this was the right choice. Either way, once she was apart of the vampire's court, she could easily kill him once Harkon was finished.

"The fourth is located in the-," she started but gasped when the shackled were let loose. Not only did she gasp, but so did the hunter that stood before her. His sword was at her throat in less than a second. She held her tongue and stared into the eyes of the man before him. All humanity that was once there was lost once again, and instead stood a look of pure destruction. His blade caressed her throat and she resisted swallowed again, knowing that her throat would flow with her blood if it came any closer to the blade.

"No need for that, Orthjolf, I opened the shackles." Harkon exclaimed and Orthjolf seemed to glare at the man before him. Amand watched in utter fear as the two switched from comrades to enemies. His glare penetrated into Harkon who returned his death giving glance. They stared at each other until Amand shifted away from the sword. Right as she moved the blade of the sword slammed into her throat and she landed against the wall. A sickening crack vibrated through the small space and she stared at Orthjolf in horror. Had he wanted to, her head would now be rolling on the floor. Harkon clenched his fists and the air became full of static. Hs hands crackled with lightning and he threw it at the hunter, who deflected it with his blade.

"Enough." Harkon stated calmly and Orthjolf lifted his sword that's tip was lying on the floor and he pointed it at Harkon, who glared at the hunter. Amand continued to watch in confusion, wondering how thin this alliance was now. It suddenly dawned on her that they probably despised each other, barely tolerated each other's presence.

"What have you done, Lucan?" she whispered. It must have been very terrible to unite the master of master vampires and the master hunter together. It seems that this alliance was hanging on a thread.

Orthjolf held his sword higher and hissed, "Why?" Harkon let his arms drop and he crossed them over his chest defiantly. He smiled at Amand and then looked back at Orthjolf.

"Because," he stated coolly, "she is an asset that will get us closer and closer to Lucan, and even more closer to-,"

"I understand," the hunter cut him off and he nodded. Then he turned his attention back to her and her heart flew into her throat, "but remember that no matter what this vampire thinks, I will kill you if you decide to do anything that may slightly piss me off. Do I make myself clear?" Amand nodded in fear and he snarled and sheathed his sword. As the weapon disappeared, she sighed in relief and raised her hands in the air. Slowly, she got up and stared at Harkon, who now looked less frightening than the human, and that was saying something.

"You shouldn't think that I am any better than the hunter, Amand, remember that the hunter will have to deal with me if he kills you. And although he would get nothing less than a mere battle, I have nothing holding me back to kill you. He," he jerked his head to Orthjolf, "doesn't need you as much as do. He can easily find Lucan, you are making it faster, but I need you because I am an impatient man, so I hope I do not have to kill you. But remember you are not important enough for me to bend backwards for you. Understood?" She nodded and he looked around the room.

"Let us leave," Orthjolf replied and Harkon nodded.

"Where are we going?" Amand asked and Harkon smiled.

"That's all up to you," and she understood. It was time to face the man that she called father, and she prayed that he would understand.

Orthjolf was not happy about this whatsoever. Before he was going against his word of killing any vampire that he met, now he was going against _everything_ he thought. He spared a vampire...he was going to save a vampire...and he was working with two. Life was getting more confusing, more and more hard to understand. He thought that his place in this world was to keep the people safe, and now...what was he doing? He had...feelings for Matilda, that was true. A feeling never felt before, but was it worth saving her. If she died, most people would believe it as another vampire dying, Skyrim's home would be safer. So why couldn't he do it? She would become like every other vampire. Could he see her like that? The easiest answer would be no, but Orthjolf wasn't an easy man. He sighed and stared into the white clouds that flew over his head.

There was only one hard way to find out if he could see her like that; by literally seeing her. And right now, the only way to see her would be to find her brother-and kill him. He clenched his fists and slammed his foot into the head of a choking vampire. The newly added vampire stared at him in horror and he smiled, "Missed one." She shivered and he smiled at her discomfort. There was one way to let this journey go by faster, and that was to kill this vampire mentally. He'd save his anger for her.

The orange leaves of the south-eastern hold were beautiful, the colours would be perfect in daylight, but he knew that it would be pointless. So he allowed his eyes to adjust, knowing that they were now golden. The night lighted to near brightness as his beast eyes adapted. He looked to the vampire and she was giving him uneasy glances. When he caught her eye, he snarled in hatred and looked into the black and white scene in front of him. He hated the thought to be partnered with two vampires, to be associating with his true rival and to be in this situation. Had he not seen past the vampire Jarl, he would have been never been in this situation.

"It is coming up, maybe an hour or so and we should get there," Amand whispered another two hours later. Harkon nodded, but Orthjolf clenched his fists and smiled. Time for killing, time to kill.

"Good, after a day's sleep, we can infiltrate their home, and see if our _friend_ is there," Harkon confirmed and Orthjolf turned on him in anger.

"What?!" he yelled and Amand jumped, while Harkon raised an eyebrow. "We are an hour there! Why must we stop! You vampires and your damn problems! I should have gone on my own!" He hissed and Harkon sighed.

In a low voice, he whispered, "Soon they will be your problems..." Orthjolf turned.

"What was that?" Harkon stared at him in amazement, and Orthjolf now put his hand on his sword's bandaged hilt. Harkon sighed and waved him away and Orthjolf glared and kept his hand on his sword for the next hour. Once they reached the city of Riften, Harkon smiled and yawned. Amand stared at the people around her nervously and looked around to the hunter and vampire.

"There are so many people here..." and Orthjolf slightly unsheathed his sword, and Amand hissed, raising her clawed hands. Orthjolf began to fully unsheathe his sword and Harkon grabbed Amand and threw her into an alley. She yelped and Orthjolf looked into the darkened alleyway to see Harkon pressing lightning to her neck. She was in no pain, so Orthjolf realized it as a mere threat, not an attack. He sighed in disappointment and watched them as he leaned against the wall. Harkon whispered something in her ear and her eyes widened and she looked over at Orthjolf and smirked. In complete anger, he approached her with his sword and Amand's eyes widened.

"...and we will no longer fear the-," Harkon stopped whispering and cleared his throat, "Yes?" Orthjolf growled and unsheathed his sword and started picking at the blade and smiled at Amand's terrified face.

"Are you finishing whispering sweet nothings into its ear, or do you still have more to say?" he taunted and Harkon lifted his lightning wielding hand away from the vampire's face and brushed his robes.

"Good timing, Orthjolf. Let us go to the Inn here," he responded calmly and Orthjolf sighed. He needed rest, as much as he would hate to admit it. They reached the inn, with Harkon in tow and Orthjolf leading them. He would sense them if they tried anything. As they reached the bar, the smell of mead and sweat filled his nose. He coughed and shook his head in disgust, this place was filled with filth. Harkon opened the door with a stance of superiority and walked in as if he built this place and was the Jarl. All eyes turned to them and some started whispering about vampire hunter, some with hero while others with hateful words. Orthjolf walked to the counter, put down ten septims and asked for a room.

"Is that to share?" the man asked and looked behind him at Harkon and Amand. Orthjolf let out a loud and raspy laugh. To the man's startled look he replied with a forceful _no_. He nodded and Orthjolf allowed him to lead him to his room. He opened a door to a rank room and gave him a weak smile. "If there is anything you need, just let me know," he replied and Orthjolf waited him to leave and shut the door before he fell onto the creaky bed and sighed in annoyance. He felt his eyes grow heavy and he laid his head in his pillow and decided not to smell anything for fear of throwing up anything that was in his stomach.

Amand sat down with a glass of stale wine and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She already missed her palace. At least they had the delicacies of pure and fresh blood, or flowing and perfect wine. Here it wasn't cheap, although the taste was. Harkon sipped the drink with the same look of disgust and she looked at him fondly. He was very powerful and very calculating. Orthjolf had no idea who he was dealing with, he had no idea that Lord Harkon was the most powerful vampire of all time and if he did, he still wouldn't have an inkling of his power. She could feel his rays of power from here.

"So what is your plan with the mortal?" Amand asked and he tilted his head to the side in thought and smiled.

"We need to build up his trust, I don't want him to be suspicious, so you need to learn to shut your mouth," he stated and she opened, but then shut it when he raised his finger. "Once he learns that we are no possible threat and we are allies, then I can strike. But it will take a while for him to learn to trust us. Besides, I know when he will be at his weakest moment."

"When?" she replied, her eyes wide. When could this man possibly let his guard down?

"Well, you will see once we find Lucan," Harkon smiled, baring his deathly fangs, "But right now, I believe it is time for us to feast."

The day was long and hard. Orthjolf woke after less than an hour, his eyes rimmed with black and his muscles sore. The common bustle below him wasn't helping, either. Dishes were getting cleaned, and the sound of glass on glass, clinking and rubbing against each other wouldn't let him get any sleep. Rolling out of the musty bed, he treaded down the steps and saw only a few people in the once filled bar.

"Heeey, p-pal," a man slurred, bumping into him, "do you've g-got any ch-change er sometin?" Orthjolf raised a red eyebrow and snorted, pushing past the man. Instead of leaving him alone, the drunkard wobbled after him. "Don-don't just ignore meh like tha-t!" he shouted and Orthjolf turned around and glared at the man.

"And what are you going to do about it, hmm?" Orthjolf taunted. When he was tired, he had no patience, especially for drunks. The man weakly raised his fists and sneered at Orthjolf, who was contemplating how he could kill this guy. "You aren't worth the hassle..." he muttered and the drunk laughed.

"Milk drink-er, you can-can't even f-fight meh!" he roared and Orthjolf clenched his fists and threw a punch at the man's face. He flew back several feet and the small amount of people who were in the bar stopped talking and looked at the two Nords. Two men roared and raised their fists in the air, begging for more, while another two glared in Orthjolf direction and got up, approaching him.

"What do you think you are doing, attacking our friend here, pal?" the taller one asked. Orthjolf snorted and smirked at the two.

"If he is going to try and fight me, he has to be prepared for the consequences." He replied and the smaller one turned redder than a tomato.

"And if you think you are going to punch our friend, you have to be prepared for the consequences too!" the short one roared and threw a punch at the hunter. A man in the back ran out and in less than a minute, brought a couple more people in the bar. Cheers of bets and advice got thrown in the air, but Orthjolf was too tuned into the fight to hear them. A punch flew by his ear and he ducked and kicked the short man's legs, making him land hard on the floor. He cursed and got up, but his face met the fist of the hunter. He too flew back, similar to his drunken friend's body and landed a few feet away. The taller man snuck up behind Orthjolf and grabbed his arms, flinging him to the side.

Orthjolf slammed into the wall, but was quick to dodge the punch coming from the tall nord. Orthjolf laughed and threw another punch at the taller man's stomach, which dodged just in time. The short nord ran at Orthjolf again and the werewolf dodged his weak punch and grabbed his arm. He elbowed the man in the face, who's nose was now bloody, and he rammed him into the wall. The taller nord tried to get a punch in, but Orthjolf used the short one to shield him.

"Damn it, Griffin, that was me!" he moaned and Griffin shrugged his shoulders in apology. Orthjolf grabbed Griffin's head and threw a punch right inbetween his eyes. He fell to the floor, unconscious and when Orthjolf approached the short man, he croaked, "I'm done, I can't fight no more." Suddenly a bar maid ran in and she cursed out loud.

"What is the meaning of this. Y-You!" she pointed at Orthjolf, "You're on your last straw, don't think that you can go and fight around here whenever you fancy. This is not a fightin' club. Understand?" Orthjolf nodded politely and she sighed and smiled at him. "Come on up to the front, you look hungry," and Orthjolf followed the tavern maid, who positioned herself right in front of the counter and rooted through the cabinets and found a thick chunk of bread. He took out five septims and placed them on the table.

"Do you might know if a dark haired man, and a redguard woman came out of here, in the last hour or so?" he asked and the woman looked up in thought. She rubbed her neck and that is when Orthjolf saw it, the mark. It was two bites, slightly bruised and on her neck. She shook her head and he clenched his fists in anger. He could never have trusted them, but at least now he knew. He grabbed his sword and walked past the two unconscious nords and the short and bloody one, who gave him a glare.

The doors opened into bright sunlight and Orthjolf wondered what was going on, where had they gone? Had they left without him? "No," he muttered, "They wouldn't leave in complete daylight, it would be far too risky. He rubbed his hand over his brow and looked around the small town. It smelled of fish and sweat, not what towns should smell like. He growled and looked around, asking people about his two undead companions. No one seemed to notice the two vampires and Orthjolf grabbed his hair and pulled in annoyance. Where were they? Giving up from his need to sleep, he retired back to his room and lay in the bed for a while, not realizing that he had a companion sharing the space.

Amand stared at him hatefully, surprised that when he was so tired, he didn't even notice that he brushed past her. Harkon had told her that he had retired to a more suitable living area, and she was free to do what she wanted with this time. Odd, since he seemed to trust her completely, although she couldn't really run off anywhere. The bar maid was a delicious meal, and her blood tasted fresh and warm. Her stomach growled and she saw Orthjolf turn in his slumber. What would wolf blood taste like? Would it be stale and rotten, or warm and delicious? Amand had a taste for Nord blood, that was for sure. Many people in her palace enjoyed Breton, but she found it tasted rather metallic, like drinking liquid steel. But Orthjolf's blood, it was so close. She could hear his steady heart beat, his slow counted breath. She could resist no more.

Slowly, she treaded towards him, his red stubble coming closer to her. His light eyelashes were now visible, and for a mortal, he was very beautiful, she had to admit. A sudden thought filled her mind. A devious smile played on her pale lips, wrinkled her dark skin. He would be an excellent thrall, perfect for defending her and...among other things. She laughed at the thought, the most powerful vampire hunter, in her control. He stirred and she retreated a few steps back. Not yet, no, she would wait until the time was right, wait until she knew Harkon would need him anymore, and then she would strike. But for now...his blood called.

She took another couple of light steps towards him, and lowered herself to his neck. His skin shone and her nose was filled with the smell of his wolf blood filled her nose. Harkon had told her that it was filthy blood, tasting disgusting and rotten. But although she smelt the dog on him, she smelt a delicious smell. His blood was potent, it was vibrating, alive. She shivered and forced herself not to breath, and once she could finally wait no more, she plunged her fangs into his neck. Instantly, it filled her mouth, warm and delicious. It tasted like the moon light, dark and bright, cold and warm. She shivered and continued to drink, her hands trembling behind her back.

It was unbelievable, and she continued to drink, but to her horror, he muttered. Then he stirred. She retracted her fangs and backed away, still invisible. He opened his eyes gently and blinked looked around the room. He suddenly went rigid when he smelt the air and Amand backed farther into the corner. But he merely smiled and whispered, "Leaches are back..." and he closed his eyes again and fell to sleep. Amand sighed and noticed the two bite marks on his neck. She instantly knew that he would find them and she swallowed nervously, glad to know a bit of restoration magic. She approached him and laid her hand on his neck, so gently that he could not feel it. Knowing how to cast spells silently, her father teaching her that trick, she allowed the warmth in her hand to seep into the bite and patch skin over hit. She watched as they disappeared and she sighed and backed out of the room. One thing was for certain, she knew she would be back for more.


End file.

Elder Scroll series, Adventure, Fantasy