World: Skyrim

Status: Currently abandoned at 3 chapters on fanfiction.net

Why I wrote it: It started as a one-shot I wrote when I was mad at my mom (I write shit like that when I get angry... ._.), and it just spiraled into a love-letter to vampires. 

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11236291/1/Blood-on-the-Horizon

Summary: For 7 years, Saber has been working hard to earn some respect in the Volkihar Clan of vampires in Skyrim. But now she learns she is going to have a new clanmate soon- and she will have to be the one to 'turn' him. After that, things become crazy, and Saber will be faced with a choice between her two fiercest loyalties.

Chapter 1:

I opened my eyes, my breath coming in in short gasps. My stomach burned with unexplainable hunger.

In front of me was a pale figure, the curves of its body muffled by dark robes that fell to the ground by its feet. The person's face and hands were the only exposed skin, all else lost in the suffocating blackness of the robes. On its face was a curled, red-lipped smile. The eyes matched the color, and had what looked like a ring of blood around its pupils. The face was narrow, and from what I could tell, belonged to a woman.

My suspicions were proven when it opened its lips and a low but distinctly female voice rang in my ears.

"Greetings." I could not help but stare at the strange woman, but even my hungry eyes were no match for the famished impatience of my stomach. I gasped in pain as my torso contracted, pulling me into a ball. I unconsciously started to massage it.

The floor underneath me was hard, though I felt no cold nor warmth radiating from it. My hip dug painfully into it and I sat up into a cross-legged position, still clutching my deprived abdomen. The figure chuckled and shook her head.

"My my, you must be hungry." I nodded desperately, glancing up at her scarlet eyes. If I had had enough sense to realize what she was...I may not have trusted her so easily. But against my usual well-fed instincts that would have screamed at me to get out of this sketchy situation, my starved instincts told me to do anything for food; even trust a suspicious woman with red eyes who was laughing at a starving teenager. They told me that if she was to give me food, she could be a mudcrab for all I cared; she would still look nothing short of a goddess in my eyes.

"What is your name, young one?"

I hesitated a moment, my brain still focused on my famine. It refused to be distracted.

"Uh..." I hesitated, battling with my head. Come on, think you piece of- I finally remembered.

"Saber. My name is Saber." I said, relieved that I was able to answer before the woman became impatient. The last thing I needed was my only possible source of food to get angry and turn me away. I tried to resist thinking about hot, steaming bread and creamy soup... but oddly enough, when I finally slipped and started thinking of the delicacies, it didn't worsen the pain in my stomach like I expected. My mind wandered back to the present situation.

The woman laughed a cold, mirthless laugh.

"I can give you what you want." This is what I had hoped she would say. I scrambled to my knees and clenched my hands together, looking up at her.

"Oh, I beg of you miss, please help me!" I winced again at a fresh complaint of my belly but was able to keep looking at the woman. She laughed again.

"Oh, I will." I relaxed. My relief must have become apparent on my face, for her voice suddenly became sharp. "But not without a price."

I wilted. "I-I don't have any money." I checked my pockets, just to make sure. The void in them only intensified the one in my stomach. I was wearing familiar oversized leather armor, covered head-to-toe with small nooks and crannies to hide items I had borrowed and didn't plan to return.

She raised a snowy hand to wave off my comment. "Money has no worth to me; I am far past the greed it strikes in the hearts of mortals." I shuddered, and not just because of hunger. She had an air of superiority to her, but that was not what had caused my reaction. Her choice of words, specifically mortal, were what had invoked the spasms of dread throughout my body. I hesitated, weighing my choices. Another set of tremors induced by my hunger reminded me bitterly that there was none.

She looked down at me on the floor, her eyes gleaming with delight. "I need a...service from you."

"Anything."

Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew promising this was dangerous. Who knew what she would ask me to do? But my whole being yearned to be free from this torture; the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. I was not even completely sure it was hunger...just a tearing pain, ripping through my stomach to be heard. I gasped and started shaking again as a new wave of hurt swept through my body.

Her smile widened. "Excellent." She threw something at me; on reflex, I caught it. I looked at my clenched hand and saw the handle of a dagger protruding from the fist, the rest hidden by my thumb and fingers curled naturally around it. I saw a shiny red liquid start to collect slowly on the bottom of my hand, dripping from where the blade was obviously digging into my flesh. I felt no pain other than the steady complaint from my gut.

I opened my hand to let the blade clatter to the floor; instead, it hung to my hand like a burr, sunk deep into the meat and sinew. Only when I tugged it out did the barbs induce the slightest twinge of pain, though it was short lived, as was the gush of blood. As I looked at the crimson liquid, my stomach shuddered with lust, the same lust I had expected from the imaginings of food before. It made me tremor in revulsion to myself alongside my ravenous contractions, now intensified by the blood. Unable to control myself, I licked at the wound, only to start hacking and spitting it out in disgust; the bitter taste reminded me of poison.

I heard the woman clicking her tongue in disappointment. "Be patient, young one." I jumped slightly. I had forgotten of her presence. I nodded then asked in a shaky voice,

"What do I need to do?" The woman smiled again and clicked her snowy fingers together. With a loud, gravelly sound, a section of the wall behind her slid into the ceiling, and behind it, from a dark room, stepped a wary man. My stomach twinged painfully, and I let out a low moan. The man's scent traveled to me, powerful and irresistible. It was all I could do not to leap at his throat. I looked at the woman, a sickeningly alluring suspicion forming in my head; I almost begged her to say the words I craved, that would give me permission to feed. I could sense the blood running in his veins; I was beyond disgust and wonder at this strange craving. I was desperate. And then, by some miracle, she issued the very order I prayed for: "Kill him."

I had no time to think about my former innocence and inexperience with death, nor did I hesitate for a moment to spare remorse for the mouthwatering stranger. I simply sprung, leaving the dagger forgotten on the ground. My lust was controlling all my instincts, and my teeth unsheathed from my lips, letting loose a snarl that did not belong to my throat. I landed on his chest, and he fell to the ground. I did not waste a second, tearing at his throat with my teeth, splattering dark crimson on the floor. My head was spinning with hunger, and I latched onto the largest artery under his already soaking flesh. I sat pinning him to the floor, motionless other from the rhythmic heaving of my stomach as it accepted mouthful after mouthful of liquid life. After the flow of thick, gory fluid started to cease, I clenched my jaw tighter and jerked savagely away, hearing the flesh tear satisfyingly. I tossed my head to the side and let the chunk of flesh fly to the side and hit the stone wall with a dull thump. I stood up, panting yet feeling far from weak, and looked down at my prey with a surge of pride. I had figured out how to stifle the agonizing pain! I looked around, my head high, for the woman, but she was gone. I gazed back down at the body and felt a twinge of horror from my now-full conscience at the unrecognizable bloody mass of flesh, the head connected by only a small strip of skin. I did not turn to look at the rest of it, the part I myself had thrown across with my teeth. I started to tremble and backed away slowly, until I heard a splash. I whirled around to a small pool of water, and even in the dim light I could see the rippling picture of a young teenager. She looked much like me, except her fiery red hair was matted and damp with what looked like blood, but I could not tell, as it matched the hue of her long waves which curtained down to her invisible waist. Her usually green eyes glowed ruby, just like the stranger's. The front of her leather armor was stained dark with still-dripping gore...

A drop of the said substance fell into the puddle and spread, turning the dingy water a cloudy russet color, retaining its former reflective texture as the picture distorted and tried to settle again, but barely. This woman was not me. Where was the innocent gleam to her emerald eyes? Her white-toothed grin beneath scarlet lips with flat teeth? In my grimace, I could see clearly the points on the end of my blood-stained teeth. Fangs, more like. No wonder I was able to tear him apart like that...I shuddered. But the worst part about this repulsive situation, was that I didn't care. I only felt bad because I knew I should. Any normal person would, right? In truth, I was just as pleased as I was right after the kill. And my belly seemed to appreciate my meal with its contented sighs. I was not stupid; even in the confusion of this hellish situation I had awaken to, I could tell what had happened. I just didn't know how.

Because vampires were supposed to murder, not change others on purpose. I wondered faintly if the woman had a grudge she wanted to make the man pay for, and she knew a young vampire would be sloppy with the job? I could not guess any other good reasons, nor did I feel the need to. And as spots started appearing on my vision and I became light headed, I could have sworn I heard malicious laughing ringing in my ears before the ground swung up to meet my eyes.

"Again." She ordered. I groaned.

"Why are we training to fight? We barely have to deal with more than an occasional mudcrab these days!" We were on a stone bridge, spanning from a small island to the large castle at my back. Modhna, a female Breton across from me, crossed her arms, the sword in her right hand swinging from her elbow. Her shoulder-length brunette hair floated around her uncannily pale face.

"Because if there was an invasion, we would need to be ready." I rolled my eyes.

"Who would be stupid enough to challenge Harkon? The clan is bigger than any other. They would be begging for death, and you don't find many suicidal vampires around here." I saw her clench her teeth.

"Suicidal or not, they might, and so we need to be prepared if they do."

"It has been seven years, Modhna, since I joined. In that whole time, there has not been one invasion!"

"Seven years is nothing, child." I bared my teeth at her taunting tone. It wasn't my fault I was the youngest vampire of the clan!

"Red! Mod! Court meeting!" I turned around to see Lokil, a dark ginger-haired Nord, calling out to us. I relaxed my stance and sheathed my daggers, both red and glowing with Daedric essence. They almost matched the hue of the irises of my companions, which were a bright ruby, just like mine.

I sighed briefly at my nickname, "Red", based off of my bloodily shaded curls, which stretched down to my hips.

I heard the rubbing of leather on leather as Modhna followed suit, then strode past me towards the castle.

"Very well. Tell Harkon we will be present momentarily." She told Lokil. I saw him nod then reenter the giant stone building. I forced my stride to match Modhna's, her longer legs presenting it as a challenge. My head came up to her ear usually, a product of my combined eternal teenage body and Bosmer blood, which made me small but lithe.

Modhna looked down at me, her pale face serious.

"Don't say anything stupid, alright?" I met her gaze, my own crimson eyes probably portraying the confusion I felt rising in my chest.

"Anything stupid? You mean at the meeting? You think I am new to this court?" I felt myself become slightly angry, and frustration bubbled under my snowy skin. It was not fair! No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't earn an ounce of respect for myself! Would I always be viewed as the young, inexperienced little girl?

She grumbled something inaudible under her breath, and I felt a surge of satisfaction for winning the short argument. We marched past the gate and the elderly Nord gatekeeper (whom I suspect is a thrall but I never found the time to ask). He quickly closed it after us, and opened the huge oak doors for us to get inside.

As we approached the dining hall, I could hear hushed voices whispering urgently. I had always had the gift of sharp hearing, so even from the slight balcony we had to descend from to reach the table, I could hear snatches here and there from the table.

"Isn't that dangerous..."

"We haven't had a new member since..."

"They say the..."

A new member, huh? I smiled to myself as we stepped down the spiralling stairs and took our places at the end of the table. Maybe my wish would come true, and I would finally not be the newest member? But what were they talking about, danger and rumors...? By the time I had been able to step a few feet away from the staircase, the group fell silent, which had left me to walk thoughtfully to my seat, surrounded by silence. I looked over to Harkon respectfully, my chin high. He swept his gaze across the table.

"My friends, I have heard rumors of a strange artifact in a certain cave called Dimhollow Crypt. I believe this artifact may be one of our Elder Scrolls." There was a collective groan around the table, which I did not join. I just stared at him intently, my chin propped on my clasped hands, a frown pulling at my lips. I had heard that a few hundred years ago Harkon became obsessed with this prophecy about darkening the sun forever. It was written in three Elder Scrolls, and as he became more intent in his search for them, it slowly tore his family apart. Eventually Velarica, his wife, took his daughter Serana and hid them both.

Harkon propped his elbow against the table and held his arm up vertically, his palm open as a calling for silence. The sigh immediately cut short.

"Please. I understand it may seem far-fetched now, but just imagine; an eternity without the vicious sun to scorch our skin!" I had to admit, it appealed to me. I could not remember how many countless times I had snarled at Magnus for burning my pale hands or face. There was a murmur of consent around the table, reluctant but accepting. They seemed to be thinking similar to me. Harkon smiled at the change in mood.

"Now, it has been awhile since we have welcomed a new member into our ranks." He turned his gaze meaningfully to me. The rest of the table followed suit. I looked back at them uncomfortably, a faint blush highlighting my snowy cheeks, barely making a visually noticeable change. After a moment all eyes wandered back to Harkon, who turned his scarlet glance elsewhere around the table. I felt myself relax.

Harkon continued. "I believe if we are to investigate this cave we will need to increase our numbers." I felt a smile curve its way into my lips. I would finally be higher in rank than someone, and perhaps earn myself some respect. I may even be promoted to a higher position in the Clan. After all, I put in a lot more effort than Modhna to follow orders to the letter. I deserved her spot better than she did herself.

The black haired-and-goateed ancient vampire turned to his right to the closest of his comrades: a grey-haired Altmer. "Vingalmo, you said you had someone in mind?"

"Indeed, sir. He is a young Wood Elf in Valenwood. I believe he will be a great addition to the family."

"Harkon, I would like to protest this." That was Orthjolf, a chestnut haired Nord and the closest to Harkon on his left. "I do not believe Vingalmo has the correct traits for a suitable new vampire in mind. Most likely it is another useless mage casting petty spells." I could hear Vingalmo mutter some inaudible profanity under his breath.

Harkon narrowed his eyes. "Vingalmo has proven himself worthy with his choices." He glanced again at me.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. After having joined the Clan, I was told that Vingalmo had been the one to pick me out. When I had asked who had changed me, he said that was "none of my concern". Bullshit.

I heard Orthjolf groan.

"Don't tell me we are going to have another little kid join!"

I snarled softly at him. He ignored me, his eyes on Harkon, while frustration built up in my chest. Harkon frowned at him.

"Saber has been doing extraordinarily well. Better than you did in your first decade here." The frustration was quickly replaced with pride laced with smugness. I could see the same feeling lingering in Vingalmo's expression, the haughtiness more pronounced. I could hear Orthjolf gritting his teeth together angrily. It sent a wave of satisfaction over me to know he had been upset. Harkon smiled at us.

"Then it is settled. We will fetch this Elf tonight and introduce him to our world like we have every other new clan member." I shuddered, remembering my own initiation. It had been a bloody one, the bloodiest they had seen for ages, they had claimed. Newborns rarely ever used their teeth in the beginning.

I raised my hand respectfully, the black ebony stone of my daedric armor glinting in the faint candlelight cast by a lone flame in the middle of the table. It looked grey next to the flaming red of the daedric essence streaking it. I had convinced Hestla, a blonde Nord two seats to my right, to forge it for me when I had found a few daedra hearts and ingots of ebony on a hunting trip.

Harkon turned his head to me curiously. "Yes, Saber?"

I saw all the heads turn to me. I gulped and tried to make my voice sound clear and confident, despite the pressure. I think I did okay. "May I assist in welcoming our new clan member? I believe I will be able to empathise with him." It was true; my memory was still filled with the horror and excitement of being a newborn.

I heard Stalf, a blondish-brunette Nord sitting three seats to my right chuckle and whisper to Hestla. "Bet Red just wants a shot at the poor boy's heart. She is damn seductive, that one. Pretty too."

I shot Stalf an icy glare. I knew his suspicions were not baseless; I often was able to convince my prey to follow me after a bit of flirting. They never survived long enough to see if my promises were true. I suppose I may have a skilled tongue, but to be honest the men in some cities are practically begging to be tricked. The men taste better anyways; not to be sexist, but they generally work more and their blood is more fresh as a result.

I heard Hestla whisper back, "Ten Septims says he rejects her."

"You're on. That boy is gonna get his heart ripped apart."

I was so focused on their betting that it took a moment for me to register what Harkon said next.

"Saber, why don't you be the one to turn him?"

I blinked. What? I had never turned anyone before...

"It would be my honor, sire."

"Sir-" Orthjolf protested, but Harkon held up his hand to silence him, his eyes on me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Harkon paused a moment, then turned to Vingalmo.

"Prepare everything. Do you think we will be ready before tomorrow?"

Vingalmo frowned. "Maybe. It may come close though..."

"Thats fine." I recognized the dismissal in his tone moments before he got to his feet. Everyone around the table followed suit.

I planned to confront Stalf and tell him that was not my reason for asking, but I knew he would ask the real reason why I did. And to be honest, I didn't have one. No explanations really made sense with my impulsive demand. Maybe Stalf was right, that I had some silly loneliness I thought a boy could replace. I just couldn't make myself seriously consider it. I had never been a hopeless romantic, and had felt nothing but thirst when receiving drunked compliments from prey. Plus, I am sure the teenage hormones I would normally have that would make me become infatuated are dead, just like everything else about this body (in a non-literal sense).

But I could not deny the fact that a friend would be nice. Some of the vampires in Castle Volkihar tease me some but don't pay me too much attention. I would also finally have someone to hunt with; everyone in the castle refused since there was ''plenty for all here". I think having your prey handed to you without a fight is no fun. After all, they say the best part of a meal is the anticipation.

This was all based, of course, on the fact the Elf even liked me. I had never met someone that I could not bend in some way to think of me as an annoying little pest. Its not as if I was a young child. Not like they cared anyways.

"Hey, Red." I jumped at the sound of Lokil's voice, having been engrossed at my thought. I turned to look at him, a hand on my hip.

"What'chu need?" I asked, careful to make my voice casual.

"Just wanted to see what you thought about this turn-of-events."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Just wanted to know if your little body could handle it." He poked me teasingly in the ribs. But I could tell there was a deeper meaning in the question; I just couldn't grasp it. My brain felt exhausted... perhaps it was just overreacting. Was I becoming paranoid? I felt a dull throbbing start above my eyebrows. I wanted to reach my hand up and massage it, but I stayed still anyways.

I jabbed him back. "This little body could handle anything."

"Ow god damn it!" He rubbed the sore spot on his stomach and grumbled. "I see."

I grinned sweetly at him, then turned away and started to stride to my room, half expecting him to call out to me and explain the other meaning, and prove that I wasn't imagining things. I didn't hear a word though as I approached the wall next to the empty Bloodstone Chalice. I pressed the third grey rock to the left of the right side of the doorway and stood back. The wall slid open. I walked through then pulled on the steel chain on the other side, hearing the grinding sound of the rock replacing itself.

I looked at the now black-and-white room in front of me. There was a stone bed in the middle of the room that came up to my elbows. There were a pair of glowing iron cuffs attached halfway down the bed (vertically). I smiled at the blood that was smeared on the pale grey surface.

Next to it was a shelf, covered in rows of neatly assorted metal tools and such. Some had small blades on the end, some more than others in...viciousness.

In the back, hidden away cleverly in the corner as far away from the obvious stone bed as it could be, was a desk. The naked eye would skim right over it, mistaking it for another part of the ever-shifting shadows. But no one in the castle, I mused, had a naked eye. Not with Vampire's Sight anyways.

The desk had a few books stacked onto it, and a lonely chair pushed into it. That was my "study" desk. I studied the ways of Torture. The books were lent to me from Fura Bloodmouth, who suggested this "hobby" after getting tired of my endless complaints of boredom. Supposively she used to do it too before she joined the clan (and became lazy I might add). I have yet to try out my techniques on a person, although I have put quite a few Saber Cats out of their misery; after putting them into it.

I sat down in the chair and turned to the books, then opened one and stayed there all night, drowning my stress in written gore.

Notes: 

Vampires have red eyes. Period. I don't give a shit if vampires lords in skyrim have orange eyes, I hate it and it makes me sad so in my fanfictions, all vampires have red eyes, a'ight?

If you would like to see this on wattpad and completed, vote on it! Until then, as I said, there are another 2 chapters on fanfiction.net.