(Serana's POV, a bit earlier)
'How reckless can you possibly be?!' I shout internally as I see Reyvin charge through the ranks of lesser vampires followed by the silent warrior priest.
I had observed him go toe to toe against Gregorius, a vampire elder well into his second millennium, but simply charging in like this was completely foolish even then. Or was he not kidding when he quoted his 'Seer bullshit' when he first found me?
'Overthinking it is useless' I shake my head and decide to step after him.
Or at least I try to, as the moment I step across the ruined home's threshold the all-encompassing presence of Molag Bal slams into me from seemingly every direction both possible and impossible.
All of the flimsy self assurance I had managed to gather on my way here disappears like so much dust in the wind as old fears rear their ugly heads and my legs refuse to budge.
Like a deer before a hunter I stand there staring helplessly as the Breton knights cut down thrall after thrall, their onslaught only slowed when they came to stand against one of the lesser vampires with whom they were evenly matched.
My jumbled thoughts cease for but a moment as I see Reyvin and the priest finally break through and enter the tunnel network no doubt leading them to their insane goal.
I know that I must go after them, what awaits down there is not something they will be able to defeat on their own, but the mere thought of defying the one holding the strings upon my soul makes me want to curl up in a corner and forget that anything was happening.
Yet from within another part of me snarls 'Move.'
B-but!
'Do not think. Move.' It repeats
Gods damn-
'Move.'
And so I do.
Entering a state of detachment I no longer even notice Bal's presence as I slink around the bloody melee, none are able to notice me as shadows seek to hide me almost of their own volition.
Nothing matters as I descend, not the winding tunnels nor the idolatry and edifices of Balite cultists, and most assuredly not the pitiful fear I felt moments earlier. I only had to think about making one foot step in front of the other.
Almost without noticing I had already sneaked into the main shrine of this hidden temple, the gaze of my hated patron too focused on the mortal who dared mock him so openly to even notice my presence.
The moment I stop moving, however, whatever inner strength I had mustered earlier disappears as if it was never there, allowing me to truly bask in the terror that was Molag Bal for the first time in millennia.
Once again I am left motionless as I am forced to watch in excruciating detail as the now burning Gregorius eviscerates the armored priest as if he was completely naked and proceeds to rip out his heart, immediately throwing it upon the altar and completely ignoring the blasts of solar magic working to end his existence.
The moment the heart touched the altar I felt the malicious presence of Molag Bal swell as he forced far more power than he was permitted onto the world, bypassing the wards holding him in check and using the opportunity to charge his mace for his current champion's use.
Time seemed to slow down as I watched the now empowered Gregorius prepare to strike Reyvin down and deliver him to Molag's vile ministrations, only for the damned elf to completely ignore him and instead unsummon his mask and turn toward me, staring dead into my eyes, his challenging smirk from earlier appearing once again.
'Feeling brave yet?' My inner self asked with a familiar inflection.
Damn it all, I can barely think much less fight!
'So you are just going to stand there? Like a bawling child?'
Almost as if he heard my inner monologue, Reyvin's smirk widens slightly, his eyes almost aglow with challenge and mockery.
'Are you going to let him mock you? Mock us? I hiss.
I don't know what to do!
'Gregorius is already moving!'
Come on Serana, you can do this. You only need to defy a god. Easy, right?
'Your friend is going to die.'
I am trying damn you!
'Move girl!'
Alright then, lean in, extend claws and...
'Rip his rotten heart out!'
In the blink of an eye I feel myself lunge across the room and in the next instant I find myself standing above a very dead Gregorius, his heart slowly dissolving in my hand.
What in oblivion just happened?!
'Atta girl!'
"Well, well, well." The far too amused voice of Reyvin draws me from my inner ravings "Looks like someone found their guts."
Feeling less restrained than usual I go to respond with near-equal snark but then the duo of invisible eyes staring right into my soul reminds me that we were not quite alone as Molag Bal outright shrieks "YOU FILTHY LITTLE TRAITOR!!!"
I am brought to my knees in an instant as I feel something clawing at my very essence. My needless breathing turns erratic as I remember the previous time I was forced under those eyes, this time however I was truly about to die as I felt Molag Bal begin trying to rip my very soul from my body.
Grasping at straws I desperately looked up to Reyvin and would have probably been stunned if not for the mind shattering pain I was in as I saw him standing there, still with the same confidence he showed earlier, his blade glowing with near blinding light pointed right in front of me.
Just within my reach.
(Reyvin's POV)
Completely ignoring Molag's roaring threats and promises of non consensual coitus I stare right into Serana's pained and confused eyes, my slightly challenging smirk still plastered onto my face as I offered forth her salvation.
And incidentally ensured my slight against the rapist fuck was never going to be forgotten.
I do not know what went on inside of her mind as she stared at the sword but to my great surprise whatever it was it lasted only a couple of seconds before she grabbed it with such force she nearly twitched her finger a bit too far and cut herself.
Even the Daedra turned silent as she grabbed the blade, a quiet moment passing between us as I charged the blade and directed all of its power toward the bond between her and her forceful patron.
"Wh- What are you doing?" Molag's voice suddenly turned from threatening to cautious.
"Hm?" I looked up at the shrine while still keeping most of my attention on Serana "Oh, you know, just being petty."
"What. Are. You. Doing?" The Daedra asks seethingly.
I tilt my head momentarily and then my smirk turns into a face splitting grin as I wink at the carved face on the shrine "The spite."
Just then whatever was happening to Serana seemed to click and a cacophonous metaphysical *Snap* resounded all around us, cracks spread across the tunnel walls and the entire thing threatened to collapse in on itself if not for the rather large ward scheme surrounding it all.
The now freed, yet still very much vampiric, Serana looked at her hands with an expression of surprise, slowly blinked, and fell unconscious on the spot.
I was nice enough to levitate her into a comfortable corner when she did.
A few silent moments pass as I feel Molag's glare, and his voice returns, this time firm instead of angry "You will pay for that."
"Not if I kill you first." I respond without hesitation and start walking toward the mace on the ground.
"Fool." The Daedra scoffs "You cannot kill an immortal."
"Maybe" I shrug and grab the mace, immediately suppressing its attempts at subverting me "But I can damn well try."
"Your arrogance will be your end." He says with deceptively calm certainty.
"It will." I nod, accepting the fact "But you will not be there to see it."
I circle around the shrine, the ward around it already showing degradation as the faith and patronage that powered it had started disappearing with Logrolf's death. Then, an idea strikes me.
The Staff of Magnus appears in my hands and I start channeling a massively more complex set of runes into a ward which would surround and power the current one, as I do so I mutter "Prince Mephala, would you kindly grace me with your presence."
It takes her less than a second to answer.
=================================
"My oh my, I thought you would not remember me, my dear." I feel two slender hands embrace me from behind as a voice purrs into my ear.
And there at the foot of the shrine stood a horned silhouette, glaring at the both of us "Wench." He grits out.
"How uncouth." Mephala titters "Are you always so unpleasant to your guests?"
The silhouette's burning eyes narrow as he once more grits out "Why?"
"Why what?" Mephala tilts her head 'innocently' but before the increasingly frustrated Molag can respond she continues "Why ask my chosen to desecrate your shrine and your artifact?"
I can hear him grit his imaginary teeth so hard they sound like they are about to break "Yes." He finally forces out.
"Remember those servants mine you forced your filthy self on to the point of shattering their minds some thirty years ago?" Mephala asks cheerfully but her aura is anything but.
Molag stares at her for an astonished moment, before exploding "YOU WOULD START A WAR OVER SOMETHING SO PETTY!?"
"The fact that you do not consider the war already started says enough." Mephala tuts at him as if he were a child and then pats my shoulder "Now Reyvin, why don't we show this bastard what happens when someone challenges us."
I roll my eyes at her wording but still point my staff at the shrine "Indeed, let's."
A massive pulse of magical and Daedric energies smashes into the silhouette of Molag Bal, the final words of "I WILL DE-" not even getting to be heard as his presence was banished and the shrine now fully overtaken by that of the Webweaver.
Paying the disgusting shrine no further attention I turn to my giddy patron, her entire presence radiating smug satisfaction with an undertone of genuine catharsis at the successful vengeance of her subordinates.
Wordlessly I offer her the mace and she picks the unwieldy hunk of metal with complete ease. On the magical side of things I could acutely feel the moment the artifact passed from Nirn into oblivion and then into the Spiral Skein.
Mephala tosses it to the side and it disappears into motes of light as she focuses on me fully "Once again you surpass all of my expectations." She purrs while visibly stopping herself from jumping me and instead settling for patting my shoulder.
"Expect your reward in a bit." She whispers into my ear, her voice unnecessarily husky.
Suppressing a shiver I tilt my head, away from her of course, and ask "Was the deal not the Ebony Blade for the mace?"
She giggles lightly "Oh it will be as much a reward for me as it is to you. Bye now."
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'I do not have a good feeling about that.' I lightly shudder and then shake my head, heading toward the exit and slinging Serana over my shoulder as I did so.
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The others waiting upstairs were expectedly curious about what happened and it took me close to an hour to answer all of their questions as Calcelmo begrudgingly helped me bury the entire tunnel system with terramancy.
I gave them an edited story about the priest sacrificing himself to forevermore bar Molag's influence from this ancient city and no doubt created something of a legend about old Logrolf.
I was not certain if Boethiah would appreciate the irony.
Finally I managed to get the knights to go and report to the Jarl as I made the excuse of having to bring Serana somewhere to rest, though in truth I just wanted to have some rest myself after the exhausting fight I just had.
As I approached the residence provided to me and mine by the Jarl I heard a slight commotion coming from inside and after a glance grew both worried and curious. Soon I stepped into the dining room of the small mansion and was met with a rather daunting sight.
All of the Mer I sent after the Namirans did manage to return, but each carried a haunted look and even as they were surrounded in a feast's worth of food none deigned to touch their meal.
With sluggish hesitance, all eyes turned to me and I had to signal for my guards and Alor to remain seated as even in their current state they attempted to raise and salute me.
My retainers looked just a small bit better as they were only tired instead of outright traumatized, both of them simply gave me looks of heatless anger and returned to grumbling something to each other.
One quick trip to a nearby room and one tucked out vampire later I sat next to Davos and offered him and Nightshade a cigar each, something they took eagerly.
"So, Davos. What happened?" I ask as the silence grows too tense to bother tolerating.
His dead eyes did not promise a fun story.
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Thrice the shame
Thrice the stone!
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