Azalia // Skyrim Fanfiction

Chapter Fourteen

It was like a blinding light, a beam in the darkness. She followed the warmth, finding herself in the beautiful world of roses and shimmering colours. She walked forward through the meadow, towards the palace of roses. She walked up the steps.

"Where am I?" She said aloud, gazing at the world around her. The air smelled of the sweetest perfume.

"Moonshadow, my dear child."

She turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

"You will not see me until I wish it, daughter."

~•~

When Azalia woke, she felt a warming sensation pass over her body. She opened her eyes to see a Nord Priestess standing over her, warm rays of golden light passing from her hands into Azalia's body. Her mind flashed with images of what had happened. Molag Bal. Vampires. Movarth. Brynjolf. Brynjolf.

Azalia shot up in the bed, ignoring the aches in her body.

"Hold on," The Priestess said, "Slow down. You lost so much blood, I wasn't sure you were going to make it."

"Azalia?" She heard from next to her bed. He was sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, looking disheveled and exhaused. She didn't know what to say, her mouth parted slightly.

"T-Thank you for saving me," She said, settling on the words that first came to mind. Brynjolf got up from the chair, wrapping his arms tightly around her body. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. She relaxed in his hold, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Seeing you lying there," He breathed, still grasping her tightly, "That monster.. biting you. I-I never want to feel a panic like it, lass. I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier."

"I didn't think anyone was coming, Bryn," Azalia said, detatching herself from his arms. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, "I'm alive because of you. I owe you for that."

"Please drink this," The Priestess butted in, holding a bottle out to Azalia. She looked at his questioningly, "It's a potion of cure disease. I can't be sure you haven't contracted Sanguinare Vampiris."

Azalia nodded and drank the bubbling liquid from the small glass bottle. It burned her throat and smelled rancid, but she would much rather that than becoming a Vampire.

"I'm Danica, by the way," The Priestess introduced, "And you are in the Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun."

Azalia thanked Danica for tending to her. She had been asleep for two days, and Brynjolf had barely left her side for a moment. She felt guilty for the torture she must have put him through, and she wondered how he even found her. She had left the Temple with Brynjolf by her side and headed towards Jorrvaskr.

The smell of venison wafted through the air as she stepped into the meadhall. Aela was the first to notice her presence, wrapping her muscled arms around Azalia's body.

"I feared you wouldn't wake," The red-haired warrior said, "We've been so worried."

"Thank you, Aela," Azalia said sincerely as Aela released her from her tight hug. She smiled at her, feeling the bond between them, untarnished by the distance between them.

"Azalia!" Vilkas exclaimed, lifting her off her feet with the force of his hold. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him back. Brynjolf felt a sharp stab at his heart at the sight. He couldn't complain though, Vilkas had helped rescue her.