After making a fool of herself with Kaius, Sofia had done what she knew best. Get drunk.

  Not just regular drunk either, but entirely, eye-wateringly, mind-devastatingly, drunk. After months in the fortress she knew where all of the Dawnguard stashed their alcohol, and had been the first to know that when Gunmar arrived the first thing he did after locking up his ‘pet,’ was to set up a still. Granted, the still was more for the distillation of medical grade alcohol for cleaning wounds, stripping paint and aiding in the various alchemical and metallurgical processes the Dawnguard required, but it also made an exceptionally strong alcohol suitable for drowning her embarrassment.

  Four bottles of the fiery, potent brew had been easy enough to ‘acquire,’ and despite the way that every mouthful tasted like a combination of firesalts and a punch to the head, it was certainly achieving its purpose. Even for a functional alcoholic like herself it was working wonderfully, getting her end-of-the-world levels of intoxicated where thankfully, it seemed that she would soon be no longer capable of feeling feelings anymore.

  What it wasn’t doing, though, much to her annoyance, was getting her brain to shut the fuck up. That tiny little voice in the back of her skull, the one that had always been warning her that such things like ‘punching that guard in the head’ or ‘tagging along with the heavily scarred stranger who she met in Whiterun’s stables’ were Bad Ideas, was incessant and refusing to go away.

  So she continued drinking, constantly moving about the fortress but despite her words to Kaius she wasn’t seeking anything, or to be precise… Anyone. Not tonight at least. For one of the few times in her life she didn’t feel like finding the first guy to show her any attention and drag him somewhere for a bit of energetic fun. Instead she just wanted to find some hole somewhere, pull the dirt over herself and hide away from the world until her embarrassment faded. Instead, as such a thing was practically and physically impossible she had settled for the next best thing; getting herself blackout drunk and hopefully drowning her usual nightmares in Gunmar’s paint-stripping alcohol.

  “Kaius is such a bastard...” She muttered to herself, each word and syllable blurring together until it was a single khaiusishsushabashard. “Of course he has a wife. Of course he has children. Had... Had children. Ugh. And of course stupid little Sofia has to go and stick her foot in it like that. In front of her as well.”

  The bottle filled with the potent alcohol still burned her mouth, but she no longer noticed it as much. Her tongue was a borderline useless lump of meat in her skull, numbed and tingly from the first two bottles she had already finished.

  “I mean; it’s not like I can help myself. He’s the first guy who I have actually ‘like’ liked, and then he has to go ahead and treat me like a person.”

  “Why can’t he treat me like everyone else does?” For a moment it was as though the entire fortress, or indeed Nirn itself shifted and she stumbled, briefly bouncing off the cold, unforgiving stones of the fortress with her shoulder. “Wouldn’t that be easier? Fuck me and fling me out of the bed in the morning? Everyone else does. But no. Here I am, roaming about some bloody fortress in the arse end of Skyrim feeling sorry for myself because he actually cares.”

  Again taking a mouthful of alcohol and wincing, she sighed and flopped fully against the wall, feeling the chill onto her bare flesh and realising that she was lacking some articles of clothing she hadn’t earlier. For a brief moment she wondered when or even how she managed to lose her chainmail hauberk, before she wondered whether she even properly cared. The fortress was warm enough for someone wearing little more than a strip of cloth across her chest but was also warm enough that she knew that sooner or later she would probably not even be wearing that either.

  “What do you think I should do? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t simply wandered off and left a guy in the middle of the wilds before.” If the bottle had any answers, it refused to give up such secrets and she glared at it suspiciously before taking another mouthful. “Then again, Amauoc was an idiot and deserved what he had coming. Fucking arsehole. The only person who gets to beat me up is me. Also, while I get drunk, I’ve never been that drunk to get married to a hagraven.”

  Pressing down hard, the silence in the corridor echoed her words and she suddenly found herself feeling extremely self-conscious. For most people she assumed it was normal, but she detested the feeling. It was one that dealt with as she did with most things in her life; attacking it headlong.

  “Damn Kaius and being all noble. And honourable. And nice. And caring. And handsome. And nice.” She blinked, staggering and taking another mouthful as she tried and failed to grasp the train of thought running through her mind. Instead she found herself staring at the bottle in her hand as it was distinctly lighter than what she supposed it should have been. “Fuck him, fuck everything, fuck… –hic– oh. Great… –hic– Just what I need. Gods… –hic– damn… –hic– it… –hic– all.”

  For the third time in the past hour, her current bottle was empty and she stared at it while trying and failing to contain the hiccups. It was almost entirely empty, containing nothing more than the last dregs of the potent grain alcohol and not even enough for one last mouthful. Kicking off the wall, she stepped, staggered and swayed into the approximation of being upright, briefly stopping and pulling against a torch sconce before swinging into motion again.

  “Of course –hic– I have to get feelings for a man that –hic– can’t have any for me.”

  Throwing the bottle across the floor, it bounced and rattled alarmingly and made her jump at the noise that broke the silence of the hallway. It echoed, almost painfully loud in her ears and she hissed at the rolling bottle to be quiet, even as she dragged her fourth and final bottle from where it had been jammed between her belt and hip.

  Even her experience and tolerance to alcohol was straining its limits with Gunmar’s brew, her brain pleasantly fuzzy and it wouldn’t be long before she would be able to curl up somewhere and let true, dreamless unconsciousness consume her. The bottle though was not cooperating as easily as the others with a stubborn refusal from the cork to allow her access to the clear liquid contained within. So focussed on prying it open it took several seconds to realise that she was no longer alone, a shadowed figure standing a dozen metres away watching her attempt to open the final bottle.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Hello there.”

  Freezing like a deer discovering a hunter’s nearby presence, Sofia was in the process of pulling the cork out with her teeth and stopped in mid movement. The voice was soft and subtle, masculine and calm and for a moment her alcohol soaked mind thought it was Kaius before the last traces of consciousness caught up.

  “Hey there… –hic– yourself. Can’t you see… –hic– that I’m busy?”

  “I can,” Partially concealed in the shadows, the man stepped forward, moving closer to where she sat on the chest and the nearby torch sconces. “but I was wondering whether a gorgeous creature like yourself would like some help with that?”

  Her instincts for identifying a fool had paid off handsomely over the years as she had travelled from tavern, to inn, to coaching house on a wave of free booze and coin that her looks provided her. Normally, such a reaction from any man would have sent them into overdrive and her into a mass of batting eyelashes, swinging hips and poses that would accentuate her ‘assets.’ This time the tiny voice, mostly drowned in alcohol hissed, directly into her ear and forced her to look the man in the eye.

  He was a little taller than she was, not as tall or well built as Kaius but still considerably muscled. There was however a distinct lack of the… ‘hardness’ that the men that made up the ranks of the Dawnguard. All of the hunters, even the new recruits who were yet to go on their first hunts were strong, tough individuals from a wide variety of backgrounds, used to difficulty and living rough. This man however lacked that, was refined and polished where most of the others were rough around the edges.

  “You look like you could do with some company.”

  “You might think that… –hic– but unless you are bringing more –hic– booze, you can go think that some place else.”

  If he was put out by her tone he didn’t show it, instead he continued to move closer until only a few short metres separated them.

  “Is that the price of spending time with someone of your beauty?”

  The tiny voice was now screaming at her, and if it had hands it would be alternating between shaking her brain, and giving slaps up the side of her head. Slowly though, very, very slowly, it was beginning to break through the alcoholic daze, and she began watching him very carefully.

  “Maybe. Maybe I just… –hic– want to be alone.”

  She looked him over with an appraising eye, as much as she could with the fact that she was struggling to focus. He was definitely shorter than Kaius and had a few centimetres on her, but there was something strange about the way he stood there. Like the rest of the Dawnguard he wore steel brigandine, but unlike the others it clung to him like a sack rather than being specifically tailored to him. This was unusual on its own, however she found her eye wandering and coming to rest on the dark stain on his collar before studying his face.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Oh, I’ll introduce myself in that case.” The smile was filled with perfect white teeth, framed in a handsome, weather beaten face of Redguard ancestry. “I’m Namasur.”

  “I… –hic– still don’t know you.”

  “Well, I’m new to the Dawnguard. Arrived yesterday, in fact.”

  “No you didn’t.” The alcohol was thundering its way through her veins and clouding her brain but the certainty was obvious. “We haven’t had any new recruits for three days now, and I have been helping train… –hic– every member of the Dawnguard for we–hic–eks. I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Oh well. It doesn’t matter.” Glowing coals appeared in Namasur’s eyes, framed in the deepening shadows of his face as his skin tightened over bones with his curse rising to the surface. “After tonight the Dawnguard won’t exist.”

  The armour was stolen from someone who obviously was too dead to need it anymore, assisting the creature in its infiltration, and unluckily for it, the vampire had stumbled across Sofia instead of anyone else within the order. At least, that’s what she was thinking as Namasur moved to attack. Drunk to the point of being comatose, lacking any of her weapons or equipment, practically naked from the waist up and facing a fully fledged vampire, anyone else would have considered a puppy having better chances surviving against a sabrecat than her against the vampire.

  Sofia though wasn’t just anyone else. Afterall, as she told herself and all others in the vicinity at every available opportunity, she was the bravest, strongest, toughest adventurer in all of Skyrim. Except for Kaius of course. And Lydia. And Isran. Maybe most of the Companions, one or two bandits around the province, an odd beggar or two on occasion…

  She was, however, more than a match for any wannabe ‘lord of the night,’ and unlike many other people, she knew more than just fancy swordwork. The years in the College of Winterhold had been spent with more than just drinking and sleeping with other students and despite herself she had learned a thing or two. With the alcohol clouding her mind there was no time for anything complex or truly powerful, and instead she resorted to something she hadn’t tried in a very long time, gesturing and flinging a green blob of magicka despite the fact she was struggling to remain upright.

  Surprise, more than the impact, stopped Namasur in mid stride, stepping backwards as the pulsing green mass of energy bubbled and spat on his stolen armour, spreading like a mass of ants feasting on a decaying carcass.

  “What the…” Like molten wax mixed with green glue, the spell stuck to everything that it touched and for a moment he hissed in confusion, slapping ineffectually in an attempt to brush it off that only spread it further. It clung like a living thing, growing and consuming as leather became old, brittle and dried, metal rusted and snapped, and cloth faded and fell into dust. “What is this?”

  “The only –hic– good thing I ever learned at the College.” Sofia grinned, seeing the way that the spell was quickly dissolving and decaying the vampire’s armour and clothing and leaving it practically naked. “Bet you weren’t –hic– expecting that!”

  “I’m going to break you in half, rip your head off and rape the hole in your neck!”

  Any other time, a vampire’s attempts to intimidate and instill fear into its prey would have been a terrifying situation, but not when said vampire’s clothes were literally falling off its body in glowing clumps of rotting fabric, leather and metal. Sofia also didn’t even bat an eye, the alcohol in her veins reducing what miniscule feelings of doubt and fear that she might have felt and replacing it with a growing anger fuelled by her embarrassment from earlier in the evening. A second bolt of magicka crossed the distance between them, smashing the creature directly in the face and unlike her ‘cloth-rot’ spell, this one was not born from pranks. This was a real spell, one that Kaius had taught her and it struck Namasur in the face like a runaway oxcart, crushing his nose into his skull, smashing teeth out of his mouth, and leaving him partially blinded with a burst eyeball.

  Stunned, bleeding and trying desperately to see, he was completely unprepared as Sofia staggered towards him, moving in closer as he tried to get its bearings. All amusement, joviality and even her drunken smile was gone now, and before Namasur could do anything more than grasp his face in agony she added to his pain by breaking her last bottle over his head, and jamming the jagged neck of the bottle into his throat.

  If Sofia hadn’t been so drunk she would have been more concerned by the fact that she had just been attacked by a vampire. Instead she found herself looking down at the broken bottle clenched in her fist and the way Gunmar’s potent moonshine was helping the vampire burn as it writhed and self immolated on the floor. It seemed to be such a waste of good alcohol.

  Sighing loudly in annoyance as the creature died the fiery death of its kind, Sofia toed the crumbling, smouldering remains with a boot and looked about the darkened corridor. Somehow the importance of what had just happened managed to make its way into her mind through the alcohol and she began stumbling her way as fast as she could in the direction of the barracks. The alarm needed to be raised.