The Gift

[ Disclaimer: I do not own TESV ]

Chapter 4 – Fireside Chat

"I remember, when I first proposed to my wife, she sat me down with eight bottles of mead then told me to ask again after they were all empty. Apparently, you're a lot more honest with your trousers at your ankles and a tankard as your hat."

-Braeygr Windseeker, A Breeze of Memories

"Is it too late to ask for proper food and lodging under this truce, Lady Leech?" Felsilin asked while poking sheepishly at the meager half-slice of potato bread sitting in a wooden bowl.

With a loose frown, Serana poured her business partner a tankard of water and pushed it through the cage bars. "I can't move you anywhere else without someone noticing, but I'll tell Rargal to prepare meat instead." The vampiress looked up to see the wood elf drool slightly at the prospect of protein. I hope she likes it raw… Rargal hasn't touched a cooking pot in a decade.

Felsilin released a relieved sigh and finished her pitiful dinner in two bites. So, there were some downsides in her housing. A horrid breeze sometimes blew through when Rargal brought in new cattle, and the roof seemed to drip in every spot she rested her head. The firepit next to her cage wasn't always lit during the coldest hours, making Serana berate the thrall master every other day. Her green eyes followed the thankfully currently burning embers while she finished her drink.

"How long are you going to keep calling me that?" Serana questioned with folded arms.

Tracing their conversation backwards, Felsilin tilted her head in thought and set her cup down on the cold cage metal.

"Oh, Lady Leech? It's quite catchy if you ask me." The wide smirk on Fel's face only tightened Serana's frown. "Lady Leech, Oh Lady Leech~! The mortals fear her from Eastmarch to the Reach~!" She sang off key loudly.

"And her fleabag companion who mysteriously washed up dead on the beach.~" Serana finished the tune.

"Hey!"

"What? Fleabag? It's quite catchy if you ask me." She mimicked.

The Bosmer held in a growl and pushed her bowl and mug away for a nearby thrall to clean up. The Volkihar was fortunately only populated by Serana, two cleaning thralls and herself, for Rargal was out doing to some work for Vingalmo and dinner bell hadn't rung yet. Sitting across from Serana in her cage, Felsilin finally noticed something about the vampiress.

Best be blunt. "You've been staring at me from time to time ever since we met, why?" Her question seemed to surprise the other woman as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Because you're not trying to flatter me or gain favor with my father. Which is what she wanted to say but doubted the elf understood how the vampire court functioned.

"Because I've never met a wood elf. Your kind is very rare to find this far north especially since you'd have to pass through Cyrodiil from Valenwood." She half-lied.

"Bosmer." Felsilin corrected with a growl and ran hand through her wiry long locks to calm herself down. Aggression wasn't going to work with this one. The instinct to snap and bite at the vampiress showed in her eyes though. "Let me guess, you have a dozen questions for your new pet?" Felsilin flashed a wide toothy smile.

"A pet? I don't see a pet. I do have a few for an elf with an ego larger than herself." The elf huffed at the comment. "Is it true you can speak to animals?"

"No, we use a nature magic to influence beasts to calm or help us temporarily. It doesn't always work depending on how belligerent or skittish the creature is… Are you writing this down?"

Serana simply held up the small journal and quill in her hand. An inkwell dwelled behind a leg of her wooden chair. "My mother says you should never forget what people tell you about them. It's sometimes more honest than what they do." She quoted and continued writing down the elf's response. Their words can also incriminate them later if they're a turncoat or plotting mutiny.

"You referenced a god by the name of Y'frre? Is that the wo- Bosmer name for Kyne?"

"Again, no. Y'frre is the forest god of nature and song. He gave elves, beasts and man their shape to stop their transition between each but blessed some of his children the ability to still shift at will. This does not include lycanthropy; that's Hircine's domain."

Hearing the feather's tip scratch up and down the paper once more, Felsilin flopped backwards in her cage, laying her back against the firm floor. She stared at the stone ceiling and took more interest at the coin-sized frostbite spider making a web.

"Are my questions boring you?" Serana asked while dipping her quill into the inkwell. The prisoner released an exasperated sigh. I'll take that as a yes. Her golden eyes looked disdainfully at the cage lock.

She quickly searched the kitchen for any other presences or Rargal coming back from his errand with Vingalmo. She could only hear the casual drip of water hitting the frigid floor. With the area clear, Serana reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out a small key.

I hope I'm not making a mistake… Steeling her nerves, the vampiress stood up and slid the key into the lock.

Felsilin immediately rose to her feet and stared at Serana. She checked her neck for the infuriating silver collar incase the leech had slipped it on her at some point. Nope, it was bare.

"You really like taking risks, don't you?" Felsilin asked with skepticism.

"No, I don't like watching miserable people."

"Yet you have thralls?"

"None of them are personally mine, or would like this court to descend upon an unknowing hamlet and drain it dry? Our cattle method is less damaging for both parties." Serana explained and hissed when realized she had the key upside down.

Finally, the lock fell to the ground with a thud at Serana's feet, and she pulled the door open. Felsilin just stared at her coldly for a moment until her gaze fell on to the vampiress's outstretched pale hand. There wasn't any lightning magic crackling in the woman's other palm. C'mon, I don't bite. Much. She let the welcoming gesture linger in the air longer.

"I can't let you wander the castle, but you can at least stretch your legs out in here."

Cautiously, the wood elf grabbed the Nord's open palm and was pulled out of her silver confinement gently. Serana watched as the same mirth from her time in the garden burst in Felsilin's eyes. Not as much space or beauty to be found in the dark, cold almost lifeless kitchen of the Volkihar Court, the Bosmer explored.

Serana observed.

Wood elves, children of the forest and shadows of the trees… The vampiress remembered from an old dusty explorer's journal published into a book series. Despite these titles, they're curious archers, friendly and a bit naïve. Felsilin picked up an empty wooden bucket and beat its underside like it was a drum. Serana chuckled lightly and felt conflicted on whether to help or let her figure out it wasn't an instrument.

"I saw this thing in Cyrodiil while passing through a settlement. Some farmers told me it was hat… but it's too deep and blocks the sight. There's no skin to form a drum… We're not allowed to cut the fauna in Valenwood due to Y'frre's blessing, so woodwork isn't common." The wood elf rattled on about her experience with the container.

Gifted with the grace of the deer and keen senses of the wolf,

Serana stifled a laugh when Felsilin dropped the bucket on to the stone by accident with a ringing clatter, causing her pointed ears to stiffen. Her cheeks tinged with a light pink. The wood elf positioned the container carefully back down and focused on other parts of the room.

…wood elves are known to be dexterous in difficult terrain. But apparently can't navigate a kitchen.

She grimaced when her companion tripped over a spigot near the blood casks and banged her elbow into a table. Serana heard a string of elven curses slip through Felsilin's lips. Child-like definitely not…

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me about my 'special' lycanthropy… Serana. I don't have to add 'Lady' part right?" She asked while cradling her bruised elbow.

Hearing her real name genuinely from the Bosmer's mouth startled her for a second. We're making progress! Don't mess this up, Serana.

She recollected herself. "Just Serana is fine unless you prefer sounding like Vingalmo." She giggled at the visible disgust on Felsilin's sharp face.

"If I wanted a stick up my ass to make me feel taller, I would have been born an Altmer."

"Or wanted to drone on and on about your lineage and family accomplishments." Serana continued.

"Or desire to judge everything below me, and if there's anything above me? Well that simply doesn't exist!"

For the first time, both of their laughter rang through the same air. It was a wondrous contrast in the desolate, icy, and dank kitchen where mortals were drained of their blood. Only a place of pure agony and death could be the home of two Daedric curse bearers mingling together in almost blissful harmony. Almost. Serana was the first to reel in her pulsing diaphragm.

"If I ask about your Daedric dealings in detail, you'll ask about mine, and I'd rather not get into that." The vampiress answered back seriously, hoping the curious nature wouldn't persist into her past.

Felsilin shrugged her shoulders and hopped onto the center table. The previous dinner guest, whom was having his blood drained when she arrived, was gone. His life essence was mixed and stored in one of the many casks that littered the kitchen. She crossed her legs under her and tapped the side of her chin in thought.

"You don't get out much, do you?"

"What makes you say that?"

Felsilin spoke as if she was reading off an itinerary, "From the moment you wake up, I can hear you work with your mother in the gardens. When it's time for breakfast, you speak briefly with your father. As the evening goes on, you spend more time with your mother doing something with herbs because you always smell like nightshade and white caps when you come to visit me. You spend the rest of the night either here or with your mother."

"You can hear all of that from down here?"

"I sometimes transform only my ears into my wolf ones, and Rargal purposely leaves the door open. I think he believes I'll freeze to death down here. Pfft, good luck with that."

Before continuing on with the conversation, Serana heard a light grumble emitting from Felsilin. It wasn't her mouth growling, but her stomach protesting its emptiness.

The wood elf turned away in slight embarrassment while Serana rummaged through a nearby cabinet. She tossed her hungry companion more potato bread which was quickly wolfed down like the first morsel. Does she even chew? Serana briefly worried about her potentially reaction to meat. Note: Make Rargal cut the meat into slices, so she doesn't choke.

"The sun is a problem even though our strain of vampirism allows a better resistance than most." The vampiress explained.

Felsilin narrowed her eyes. "I'm talking about you. Not vampires in general. Orthjolf already proved the sun isn't that much of a barrier when he dragged me up here. Why haven't you traveled around? Normal mortals don't have keen enough senses to tell you're a vampire."

"I used to ride my horse along the beach at night, but… some incidents have been happening around the castle. Not only did someone manage to break into the garden before you came here, but death hounds, thralls and a few artifacts have gone missing. Odd sightings in the woods…" Serana paced back and forth in front of Fel, trying to explain her dilemma.

"So you're stuck here for your own protection?" She hit the nail right on the head.

Serana nodded at the conclusion. The wood elf jumped off her tabletop perch and stood directly in front of the immortal. Green bore into golden.

"I don't know how Nords or vampires feel about freedom, but to a Bosmer, 'if one cannot feel Y'frre's blessing on one's feet or hear the ancient song of the god's forest birds and rivers, one is not living. One's freedom to roam is their life.' Easy as that."

Serana shook her head. "Life is not that simple, Fel."

Felsilin crossed her arms. "What's stopping you from making it that simple? Your parents? How old are you? Eighteen summers at the least?"

The vampiress rolled her eyes. "A lady doesn't disclose her age."

"And a lady doesn't take elves as pets!" The wood elf shouted back.

"You're not my pet!" White needle-like fangs unsheathed themselves.

"Then what am I?!" A pair of lycan incisors challenged the fangs with a curled snarl.

"I was hoping you'd be my friend!"

…

…

…

Serana's heart fell in her chest when the elf took a few steps back and didn't dare look her in the eyes, yet mere seconds ago, Fel gazed at her so defiantly and tall. That was too soon… I shouldn't have said anything. We're going back to step one all ov-

In a hushed tone, the vampiress heard words she could barely believe.

"You haven't exactly tried to kill me or drained me dry. I'm not saying 'yes' but not saying 'no' either. Not the most dangerous friendships I've considered…"

"What's more dangerous than being friend's with a vampire?"

The wood elf smirked. "You ever tried convincing a troll to not eat your pet deer, and somehow explain to said troll you're not on the menu either?"

The awkwardness from just moments ago gave away to curiosity and openness. "No, but this sounds like the beginning of an interesting story or a very bad tavern joke."

The wood elf threw her head back with a curt laugh then sat down on the center table once more and made herself comfortable. "This is the beginning to an interesting and long story. Grab a chair and pour me another tankard of water, please, my throat is killing me."

Serana did what she was asked and soon found her sides hurting for the first time in years from this little elf's whimsical tale.

The night was soon giving away to the dawn when Harkon arose from his study. The light bags under his eyes proved he had continued his search through archives from the previous morning until now. Remembering he had told Vingalmo persuade his elven contacts to aid in his pursuit of sun legends the previous evening, the nightlord found himself heading towards his high elf advisor's quarters.

With a turn down the right corridor near the stairwell, he came face to face with his lovely wife.

"Harkon."

"Valerica."

Their greetings could freeze a fire atronach. His sharp eyes took in the parcels his wife was carrying. In her hands seemed to be soul gem shards, bone meal and void salts. Probably experimenting with the weeds from her garden he assumed.

"Have you seen Serana? Oh, of course not, why am I even asking you, Harkon. Your eyes I blinded by scrolls and sun myths." Valerica chided coldly.

Harkon retorted back with a grin. "No, I haven't, Valerica. Maybe she grew tired of playing with weeds all day."

Before his wife could reply with even deeper resentment for her husband, their ears were startled by a loud echoing sound. They turned their heads trying to pinpoint the noise until their gazes fell at the same time to the kitchen.

Harkon rested a hand on his sword and led his wife to the disturbance.

They arrived at the door and pushed it wide open. What greeted them was an odd sight. They're poised and refined daughter was hunched over with her mouth covered by a hand, shaking from head to toe with merriment. Across from her, the little wood elf was weaving a tale while doing impressions of various creatures from the story. The amount of joy radiating from the pair blinded them from the parental figures spying on them.

Distraught at his daughter's behavior, Harkon began to unsheathe his sword until a cool pale hand rested firmly on his chest. He looked down at his wife whom was shaking her head. She forcefully sheathed his sword for him and exited out the room.

For a moment, Harkon stood there watching the duo cackle and chortle into the morning light while they remained oblivious to his presence. Finally, he left them to their foolishness and joined his wife in bed.

A\N: This chapter took a longer time to write partially due to school, and myself not really sure of the direction I wanted to go in. I needed to move this plot along but wasn't sure what to revolve their actions around.