Skyrim: Lore Accurate Necromancer #76

Erik leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing across his lips as he looked at Serana. “So much for the vitality of the undead,” he quipped, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He held up his bottle of mead, the amber liquid catching the last rays of sunlight. “Drink?”

Serana arched an elegant brow, her crimson eyes flicking from the bottle to Erik. “Not unless you’ve got some spiced wine,” she replied, her tone dry but playful. “And it better be old. Very old.”

Erik let out a scoff, a chuckle following close behind. “We don’t do that in this household,” he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Spiced wine? Really? You might as well be asking for milk.”

Serana crossed her arms and tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “What’s wrong with milk?”

Erik blinked at her, his face going blank as if she’d just spoken a foreign language. “It’s for milk drinkers,” he said matter-of-factly, as though the answer were self-evident.

Serana’s confusion deepened, her frown slight but noticeable. “Milk drinkers?” she repeated, clearly not following.

Erik sighed heavily, leaning forward as if explaining something to a particularly slow pupil. “It’s a Nord thing,” he said, gesturing vaguely with the bottle. “Relatively new. Maybe a couple thousand years old.”

Serana rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. “Ah, I see. ‘Relatively new,’ compared to me.”

Erik shrugged, his grin widening. “More or less. I was trying to be polite, you know?”

“Your attempt at politeness is noted,” Serana said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she took a seat on the other side of the veranda. The wooden chair creaked faintly under her weight.

Erik took another swig from his bottle, savoring the warmth of the mead before gesturing toward her. “So, how did you find me anyway? I thought I was being subtle.”

Serana leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as she regarded him with a knowing look. “Blood resonance,” she said, her voice calm, almost clinical. “Technically, it’s my blood running through your veins.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a bemused smile. “I’m guessing that’s a one-way street, huh?”

Serana didn’t answer immediately, but her meaningful look spoke volumes. Erik chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Figured as much. Good thing it was you that turned me, and not your father.”

Serana cleared her throat, breaking the easy silence between them. Her crimson eyes flicked to the bottle of mead in Erik’s hand before locking onto his face.

“And speaking of my father...” she began, her voice carrying the faintest edge of reproach. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re here, enjoying your lake view with... whatever that is—” she gave the bottle a disdainful glance—“instead of being at Redwater Den, filling the Bloodstone Chalice. Like he ordered you to do.”

Erik leaned back in his chair, utterly unfazed, and shrugged. “I’ve got someone tending to that task as we speak,” he said casually, swirling the mead in his bottle as though her words were a gentle breeze.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting hers with a pointed look. “But I don’t think you came all this way just to make sure I’m dutifully following your father’s every whim, did you?”

Serana scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “Gods, no,” she said, her tone making it abundantly clear how absurd she found the idea. “Do I look like someone who runs errands for Harkon?”

Erik chuckled softly, raising his bottle as if to toast her. “Fair enough. So, if not that, what brings you here? The breathtaking view? My charming company? Or something else entirely?”

Serana’s lips curved into a faint smirk, though her eyes carried a seriousness that belied her tone. “I have something to discuss with you,” she said, her voice measured, “and on my way here, I stumbled across... a thing or two that might require your attention as well.”

Erik tilted his head, intrigued. He studied her for a moment, noting the way she chose her words carefully. “A thing or two,” he echoed, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “Sounds ominous. Let me guess—a nail sticking out in your coffin? A misplaced thrall? Or something far more interesting?”

Serana gave him a look that suggested she was not in the mood for games. “Why don’t we just say it’s something worth discussing seriously,” she replied dryly.

Erik raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk growing. “Alright, alright. Discuss away,” he said, gesturing for her to continue.

But as he sat back, his expression softened, curiosity giving way to a calm readiness. Whatever Serana had to say, had an inkling of what to expect, the things she stumbled upon by the way, at least. The bottle of mead remained forgotten in his hand as he focused entirely on her, his weariness momentarily set aside.

Serana’s expression shifted, her amusement fading as her gaze turned sharp and serious. “Remember what I said about blood resonance?” she began, her voice low and deliberate.

Erik nodded, resting the bottle of mead on the wooden armrest. “I remember.”

“Well,” she continued, her tone darkening, “the thing about it is that it doesn’t just work on vampires I turn myself. It works on anyone of my line.”

Erik smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair with an air of calm. “Sure enough,” he mused, his tone almost casual. His steady demeanor belied the glint of amusement in his eyes as he added, “I was just about to bring that up.”

Serana’s crimson eyes narrowed. “When, exactly?”

“Eventually,” Erik said with a chuckle, as though her question was trivial. “We were having some nice banter. Didn’t want to ruin it with serious talk.”

Her gaze sharpened, her patience clearly thinning. “Well, the banter is over,” she said curtly. “I’d appreciate some seriousness right about now.”

Erik raised his hands in mock surrender. “Far be it from me to deny you, Your Highness,” he quipped, though his tone softened as he leaned forward. He took a measured sip from his bottle before speaking again. “I paid a visit to the last chapter of the Dark Brotherhood. They’re holed up near Falkreath.”

Serana frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “The Dark Brotherhood?”

Erik nodded. “A death cult dedicated to Sithis,” he explained. “They’ve been around for centuries, offering their talents to those with coin. Assassins, murderers—you know the type.”

“And?” Serana prompted, her frown deepening.

“And,” Erik said, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “not so much anymore. For a while now, they’ve been little more than common cutthroats for hire... until I paid them a visit.”

Serana pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly. “Let me guess,” she said, her voice laced with exasperation. “You turned them into vampires. And now they’re not so common anymore.” Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. “The question is, why? What are you scheming, Erik?”

Erik rolled his eyes, his smile fading slightly. “I had nothing but your best interests in mind.”

“And yours,” Serana countered, her tone icy.

“What difference does that make?” Erik asked, his expression earnest as he leaned toward her. “You and I are on the same chariot. The more horses we tether to it, the smoother our trip will be to the finish line.”

“Speak plainly, Erik,” Serana said, her voice cold and commanding. “I’m not here for riddles.”

Erik sighed, setting his bottle down and straightening in his chair. “You’re the one who said you’re all alone in Castle Volkihar. No allies. No one to back you up if things go south.” He paused, his tone softening. “As high an opinion as I have of myself—and you—I don’t like our odds going against Harkon and his entire court if it comes to that.”

Serana’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression unreadable.

Erik continued, his voice firm now. “I—you—needed backing of your own. And who better to take to war than a bunch of undead assassins?”

Serana’s expression hardened, her skepticism cutting through Erik’s calm demeanor like a blade. “And I suppose you don’t have any use for these assassins you so conveniently sired—purely for my benefit, of course?”

Erik leaned back, his grin spreading as he tipped the bottle toward her in a casual toast. “Useful things ought to be put to good use,” he said smoothly. “And until the time comes when you need them, I see no harm in them assisting me with my own plans.”

Serana arched a brow, her crimson eyes narrowing. “I’m sure you have plenty of those,” she said dryly, her voice heavy with suspicion. She let the thought hang in the air for a moment before adding, “And you’re sure you can keep them under control?”

Erik chuckled, the sound deep and unbothered, as if the question itself was an amusement. “As we speak,” he began, setting the bottle down on the small table beside him, “one of them is either in the process of beheading one of his fellow brothers—or has already finished the job.” He gave her a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Once I have that head, you’ll have your answer.”

Serana stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable before she let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t even want to ask what that’s supposed to mean,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Erik straightened in his chair, leaning forward slightly as he laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees. His gaze met hers, steady and unyielding. “If you’re still doubtful,” he began, his tone now serious, “then I can call them all together. Let you see them for yourself.”

Serana raised an eyebrow, her skepticism far from dissipated.

“If you don’t like what you see,” Erik continued, his voice softening, yet carrying an undercurrent of finality, “then I’ll get rid of them. Simple as that.” He paused for emphasis, the weight of his words settling between them before he added, “It’ll hinder some of my plans, sure. But we’ll live. You’ll live.”

The meaningful look he gave her wasn’t missed. It wasn’t a plea—it was a promise.

Serana crossed her arms, her gaze still fixed on him. “You’re awfully confident,” she said after a beat.

Erik chuckled, leaning back with a casual air. “A certain Daedric Prince once told me I was too arrogant for my own good.” He paused, savoring the memory before adding with a smirk, “I’ll tell you what I told him—but in a much more polite tone: I’m just as arrogant as I ought to be.”

Serana blinked, her sharp gaze momentarily softened by sheer disbelief. “A Daedric Prince?” she echoed, her tone laced with a mix of shock and confusion. “You had a conversation with one?”

Erik laughed, clearly relishing her reaction. “Oh, I’ve had the occasional chat with one or two of them over the years,” he said breezily, gesturing with his bottle as though such encounters were no more noteworthy than a visit to the market. “But this one? Quite recent, actually.”

Serana tilted her head, her curiosity starting to override her skepticism. “Which one?”

Erik grinned, savoring the setup. “Sanguine. Of all people—or beings, I suppose. And, of all places, I stumbled upon him in a tavern in Whiterun.”

Her brows furrowed, confusion giving way to incredulity. “Sanguine? The Daedric Prince of debauchery? In Whiterun?”

“Exactly!” Erik exclaimed, clearly delighted by her disbelief. “We crossed paths, and—of course—he challenged me to a drinking contest. But I’ll save that story for later. Let’s just say it was… eventful.” He waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing aside the wild tale for now. “For the moment, why don’t we focus on what brought you all the way here to interrupt my lakeside musings?”

Serana sighed, the humor draining from her expression as she straightened. Her crimson eyes flickered with hesitation, and when she finally spoke, her tone carried a weight that hadn’t been there moments ago. “The truth is… I spoke to Garan Marathi after you left. I spoke with a lot of people, actually...”

At the mention of the name, Erik’s relaxed demeanor tightened ever so slightly, though he said nothing, letting her continue.

“But,” Serana went on, her words slower now, more deliberate, “my conversation with him is the main reason I’m here.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He leaned forward slightly, setting the bottle down on the wooden table beside him. “Garan, huh?” he said thoughtfully, his voice calm but probing. “Now that is interesting. And what, pray tell, did our dear advisor have to say that’s got you trekking all the way here?”

Serana didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to reveal everything or hold back. Finally, she spoke, her voice measured but firm. “It’s not so much what he said,” she began, “but what he implied....”