The Craving - A Skyrim FanFiction

3. Harkon

It was the scream of scratching metal that awoke her, jolting the nord girl back into reality. Her eyes sprung open as quick as light, with the vivid bright colours of them glimmering when the orange glow of the room hit them. A horrid biting chill was nipping at her arms and legs, and sinking into her wrists as she moved her cold fingers. It took a while for her vision to adjust – still her sight was shrouded by that horrid grey mist, which prevented her from making out any objects and concealed any figures that may be lurking nearby. A small moan slipped from her lips, as her head continued to throb and tighten. That was probably the cause for her current loss of sight – that horrendous lancing pain at the back of her head, that is. So she absorbed her other senses.

Her arm rubbed against a rough toothed surface that felt like rock, and the more she twitched the more it scoured her skin. The coarse surface triggered toe-curling shivers to consume her whenever any exposed skin came in contact with it. A wall? She guessed it was either brick or stone, but definitely a wall of some sort. Where in Oblivion was she?

The ice stone floor beneath her was uncomfortable to sit on, and made it difficult to cease any fidgeting. The girl gritted her teeth and hissed through the tiny gaps, squeezing her eyes shut and bowing her head to her chest as the endured the pain for another moment. A sweet honeyed fragrance simmered by her nostrils. She almost smiled, savouring that sweet, fresh perfume of roses and spice. It surprised her. She expected to be plagued by a ghastly stink that would swamped her senses – the repulsive stench of blood and damp that would make her retch, popped into her mind. For whatever reason, she was expecting to detect that sort of smell.

When she opened her eyes again, slowly so that her long eyelashes fluttered like the delicate flapping of a moth, she could at last see again. She yanked her arms, but frowned when they stuck to their pinned position beside the stone wall. The chiming of metal rang through her ears like a siren. Apprehension shakily building up inside of her, she timidly scanned her arms and wrists with her glassy eyes. A short gasp sprung from her tongue when she saw the heavy metal chains swathed around her limbs. She yanked at her limbs harder in her moment of panic, grunting and gasping as she rocketed her body that was lashed on the ice floor. The ringing metal continued to tremor in the air when she moved, sounding almost identical to the chiming and scratching of shackles that are normally bond to a prisoner, or criminal. Was she a prisoner now, was that it? Was she going to die? Crumble to ash, with her body pinned to the wall? Where was she? How could she get out of here?

It was then, when it all flushed back to her, swooping towards her like a towering, treacherous tidal wave that would knock you into the air when the ice impact crashed against you. She remembered the cold, the rain and the inn. She remembered the cries of nords, the splashes of dark blood on the dark stone walls and those eyes! Her body trembled when that startling image was planted in her mind. She could see the eyes in her head, dark and bitter they were – blood red with a piercing orange glow around the sharp ebony pupil. She remembered the halls and dark corridors, and the cages in the ice dungeon. She remembered the dagger that she used to pierce the skin of one walking corpse, and how she had to fight –victoriously slaying three callous blood-suckers in the process - and that voice! That rich gilded voice that echoed through the halls. The voice that everyone grew silent to; one of the last voices she heard before…

“Ah, so I see you are awake,” a heavy, rich voice declared, each word gliding through the air like melted gold, “good. I was beginning to think that blow to the head, had forever silenced you.”

The girl bit onto her tongue, as she glared emptily at the grey tiled floor, almost retching as her stomach flipped and turned. She felt as if something was callously crawling up her throat, ripping at her insides and making her body sweat. She had a nasty feeling on what it could be, and the thought of it irritated her. Angered her even. She didn’t want to emit, or even endure fear. There was no good to come of it! As she sat, with her knees cradled to her chest, her breath snatched away from her lips. Everything around her became clear. It would poking out at her, screaming and growling. To her right, plastered in splashes of blood, seemed to be a sort of bench, something that victims would be lashed onto and strapped down as unspeakable things were performed. Blood was splattered all over the floor around her, splashes painted on the stone wall behind her, and to her left, mounted on a long table, were several torture devices – also tainted with a deep red liquid, with blood dripping onto the floor, creating a horrid red puddle beneath the table that made it difficult for the girl not to gag. In the corner of the great room, was a cage - cold and horrid - making a wave of restlessness come over the girl as her swelling eyes rested on it. A torture room! Is this what this was? Her head snapped to the bench beside her, where she wondered why she had been lashed on the floor, instead of there – she did, after all slay three vampires.