Daedra Kissing Booth

“Wha-” Malborn sputtered, nearly jumping out of his chair with indignation. “What do you mean, why?!”

Fortunata was not impressed. “Because you’re the only person here who knows her by face and I’m not playing ‘guess the fake name’ with the Thieves Guild until they give her up. Now go get your things, we’re moving out in an hour.” She turned away, giving one more passing look at everybody present before she nodded to herself. “Dismissed!”

With a series of murmurs, the atmosphere and the congregation alike began to break apart. Only Serana continued to sit in place, watching while everyone else slowly shuffled off in their own direction, breaking up into twos and threes or simply disappearing on their lonesome. Malborn muttered several curses in Bosmeris until his footsteps grew too distant to hear. Fultheim took a bottle with him from the table before his departure.

Only when they were finally left alone did Serana build up the courage to approach. “Lady Fortunata, may I have a word?”

The Blade glanced up at her with the kind of delay one saw when interrupting someone’s train of thought, then furrowed her brows. “Never call me that again, you’re making me feel old.” Serana blinked, then bowed her head in apology. Fortunata’s smirk fell when she saw the joke didn’t land. “What is it?”

Serana twiddled her fingers. “About Riften…” she trailed off, both her mouth and her voice stiff as stone. Infuriating. Sharply, she drew a deep breath and let it out again, looking the other woman in the eye. “I can identify the woman you are looking for as well. Saya and I encountered her before we departed for Solstheim. I may be able to assist you.”

A pause.

“Okay.” Fortunata did not emote. “And?”

Serana startled, her eyes batting wide open. “H-Huh?” She stared at her, dumbfounded, as her brain scrambled to find an adequate response. “I- I believe I could be of help and would like to travel with you and Malborn.”

“I already said that you’re not going.” Fortunata’s voice was matter-of-fact - not even cold in any capacity other than imagined - yet the words themselves cut into her like a knife, precise and exactly to the point. “I thought I made myself clear: everyone is on standby until I am back. That includes you.”

With each word spoken, the ‘but’ at the tip of Serana’s tongue withered into nonexistence until all air of protest had been forcibly drained from her body. In moments, her facial journey had taken her from shock to indignation to the merest flicker of rage - before her shoulders finally sagged and the eye contact between them crumbled like her own resolve. Her mouth barely parted when the words slipped out from it like a prisoner through bars, almost inaudible: “...very well. I understand.”

“And don’t try that shit with me,” the Blade suddenly said with a sharp tone that made Serana reflexively jerk her head back up. “It might work on Saya, but I’m not her. Are we clear?”

A beat. “Yes, ma’am,” she replied. Precise. Practiced. The perfect disguise for all the things that she actually wanted to say, the things that she would never permit herself to that clouded the space behind her eye like chaotic scribbles.

Fortunata only continued to stare at her. Serana had almost turned to leave when she heard her let out a heavy sigh. When she looked at her again, the Blade’s expression had softened - even if only by an iota.

“Look, I’m going to level with you just this once, and then this conversation will be over. Understood?”

Serana nodded.

“You’re a mess.”

A pause.

“And I’m not saying that just to be an ass. I have eyes and I know how to use them, and you look like hell. I don’t know how it works for you vampires but if I saw one of my men in that state, I’d knock him out myself.” Despite the harsh words, Fortunata’s tone remained completely calm in a way that Serana did not know how to interpret. The fabric of her sleeve twisted between her fingers. “It’s dangerous enough already for me to travel on my own. I’ll have my arms full babysitting Malborn, and I can’t afford to manage you at the same time. For all we know, you might be the most wanted woman in Whiterun right now, and with this much at stake - that makes you a liability.”

Serana looked at her. Not with guilt - she did not want it to be guilt. But whatever it ended up being, it changed nothing. She did not even have the fight in her to flinch when Fortunata put a hand on her shoulder.

“Initiative is good, but initiative alone won’t get you anywhere except killed. You have your orders: lay low and wait for the trail to cool down.” She pulled her hand back. “When I need your help you’ll be the first to know.”

The shadow of the faintest smile ghosted across Serana’s face at those words. “I understand,” she echoed, slightly louder than before. She didn’t realize the bitterness she had in her voice until she spoke without it.

“Good. Then you’re dismissed.” Fortunata nodded. “Now do everyone a favor and get yourself a bath. You smell like a corpse.” With that as her final farewell, the Blade backed off and left wherever purpose carried her.

The pause was dragging.

“No,” Fortunata suddenly spoke up, “the fact that they vanished is a clue.” She shifted in her seat, quickly turning to the older Blade beside her. “Esbern, I know you looked into this - did the Synod and Whisper-whatevers ever settle on who had rights to teleportation magic?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes, I remember…” Esbern lifted his hand to his chin, scratching his beard as he sifted through his mental library. “From what I was able to find, the conflict came down to management of the old teleportation network established by the Mages Guild. Since both organizations had their antecedents in the guild and inherited much of the membership, this posed a significant security risk - as porters from either side had access to the entire network, and neither side wanted the other spying on their premises. In the end, the Cyrodiilic court ruled that it would be impossible to enforce trespassing laws if both sides wanted to continue benefitting from the network, and ordered the existing infrastructure be completely dismantled in favor of new, closed-access portals usable only by their respective members…” The old man then trailed off, abruptly realizing he might have started rambling, and so cleared his throat to catch himself before turning to Fortunata. “Naturally, this meant that public access to teleportation had been restricted, as well. Quite thoroughly, I might add.”

“Right,” Fortunata nodded. “Which means that whoever we’re dealing with has ties high upstairs. And that narrows us down to…”

She paused, the triumph of drawing the conclusion swiftly marred by the understanding of what it actually means. A frown. Serana’s gaze flew between everyone’s faces, as the same dark expression gradually seeped into the wrinkles beneath their brows and pulled their lips tight. Of everyone present, only her face and Erik’s stayed light with ignorance. Fultheim seemed almost envious as he met her gaze and voiced everyone’s thoughts aloud:

“Either it was the Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor’s men… or the Thalmor.”

The room exhaled.