Supplication

	Yvenn always hated visiting a city for the first time. Markarth, in this instance. Adaliz had taken him and a few other associates on a trip here to see if there was any avenues of profit to be exploited that weren't already under the bootheel of the notorious Silverblood family. Adaliz would no doubt have to be careful to avoid rousing their ire if Markarth was to be a viable source of coin, so the length of their stay would likely be longer than usual as the young noble did his best to be discreet with his probing. But Adaliz wasn't the only one who tread on dangerous grounds.

	He could feel eyes on him ever since he entered town, especially now, when the sun had begun to set. He looked up at the faint stars that had only just started to fade into view above the marble spires of the ancient city. Yvenn sighed quietly. He'd been dismissed from his duties about an hour ago, and they'd certainly have guessed as much as well. It'd be far too dangerous to keep putting it off, he thought, and with a last look about his surroundings, he adjusted his bag and headed down a dingy and little-used path, until the night swallowed him up.

	In the dark passageways below the city, Yvenn walked unerringly and quickly, for fear of what may be lurking along with him in the dim tunnels deep underneath the earth. He had been told the route by a visiting acquaintance he occasionally swapped information with, who months before performed the same ritual Yvenn now was obligated to replicate, as best as he could. Eventually, he found the passage curve upward somewhat, and with relief saw the slightest hint of light, only discernable to one with night vision, emanating from the end of the path. Its source was a small crack in the cave wall, just large enough for an adult to squeeze through. Yvenn easily fit into the aperture, and when he emerged on the other side, he found himself in a new set of tunnels, though these were different. There were ancient-looking doorways and pillars placed throughout the halls. Evidently, this was a portion of the Warrens that had long been lost to memory and abandoned. Well, mostly abandoned. A lone man, dressed in rags, sat across from the crevice Yvenn had emerged from. He was staring, silently and intently, at this new arrival. Yvenn approached the human, now identifiable as a Breton, slowly and calmly, his hands open-palmed and resting harmlessly at his sides. The two locked gazes with one another in the dim light of a distant torch, until the old man broke the silence with a croaking voice that sounded as though it had not been used for a long time.

"Are ye lost, wanderer?"

The mans eyes were dull and lifeless, but Yvenn felt a great intensity to them, as though he were caught in the flare of a bright lantern, or even the blinding light of the sun. With care and deliberation, he intoned the response his acquaintance shared with him.

"No, my friend. I seek to pay my respects to the dead of this place."

For a moment, nothing happened, and a chill ran down the Nord's spine. What if the phrase was wrong? What if he had been mislead, and this wasn't the right location? But his fears were put to rest when the old Breton spoke again. "The old statue, in the third room to your left." Yvenn nodded and placed a gold coin on the ground in front of the man, before turning left and into the room specified. Inside, it was mostly empty save for a stone bed and bench, and a worn statue with hardly any features left distinguishable. He braced himself, and gingerly placed his hand on the head of the figure. As soon as he did so, the wall behind it opened, revealing a smooth rock hallway, leading into a thick curtain of shadow. He tugged the strap of his backpack, as though reminding himself that it was still there, and moved forward. As he continued downward, the shadows were replaced by the warm glow of candlelight, and the faint sound of laughter and silverware could be heard. He was almost there. Just a little longer, and this would all be over. His path was suddenly halted by a pair of brass doors, upon which many runes of power had been inscribed. Yvenn quickly located the door knocker, and rapped it against the door exactly three times. For a few minutes, nothing happened, and once again fear began to take hold of his mind, but once again his fears were put to rest, as the doors opened with a shriek and spilled light into the tunnel. Gathering his courage, he stepped through the final threshold, and into his destination.

	It was a massive hall, lit with chandeliers, torches, and candles which cast flickering shadows across the walls of the room. Below the dancing shades, the figures that were casting them reveled and made merry. This was a party, after all. The guests cavorted with one another and gorged themselves on the freshest delicacies at the tables, while others gossiped and joked, or discussed matters of importance in hushed tones in the corners of the room. By Yvenn's estimation, there were at least seventy to about a hundred people present, which was far more than he expected. It must be a special occasion. He would have to do his best to impress the host tonight. After taking in the view, he began to move once again, winding his way through the crowd, and uncomfortably aware of the heads turning to track him. They could tell from his eyes, which lacked the fiery irises and glow of the typical vampires of the north, that he was not a local. Truthfully, not even Yvenn knew which strain he descended from. Probably a minor and unimportant one, he ruminated gloomily. It'd fit me perfectly. Still he was grateful for how little his condition altered his appearance. It helped remind him of who he once was. But now was not the time for self-pity. He shook such thoughts away and continued on his path, being careful to avoid the pools of blood that had gathered around the dining tables.

	Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A line of people, standing before a crowd that all looked inward towards the center, save for a few armored figures that diligently watched the petitioners. Every so often, the person in front of the queue was motioned forward, and the throng swallowed him up. Yvenn took his place at the back of the line, and began to wait. Occasionally, he could hear snatches of the conversations ahead of him. Sometimes it was questions, or pleas, sometimes offers or bargains. One time he even heard a shouted threat, but right after that there was the sound of drawn steel and screaming, which continued for quite some time, accompanied by the raucous laughing of the onlookers. Yvenn's trembling, which had been steadily affecting him since he had arrived in this place, only worsened after that. As time passed, the line grew shorter, until it was finally his turn. A man dressed in red-stained leather armor, upon which was painted a pair of white fangs, motioned him forward, and with a final few deep breaths, he strode forward, towards the person he intended to meet.

	Before him was a gleaming throne of brass festooned with jewels, flanked by two imposing men in knightly Breton armor, painted with the same symbol as the guard in leather. Sitting upon the throne was a stunning, slender woman with neatly combed, dark blonde hair that draped over her shoulders, wearing a white and gold dress that extended to the floor. Yvenn only saw her briefly, however, for as soon as he was thrust in front of her seat, he knelt down and kept his gaze rooted to the stone tiles beneath him. The silence stretched on for an agonizing eternity, until a mellifluous sound rang out from in front of him.

"You may rise."

And so Yvenn shakily got to his feet, and stared into the burning orange eyes of Joleline Merione, head of one of the most powerful vampire families in Markarth.

	Joleline's gaze raked over Yvenn, and a small smile formed on her lips. He felt like a lamb thrust into a lion's den, and the feeling wasn't allayed by the hungry crowd watching his every movement. Watching for weakness. Suddenly, the woman spoke again, her voice like silk and razorblades, beautiful and deadly. "Hmmmm... I don't recognize you. Are you from one of my rivals, perhaps? No... I haven't seen a breed like you before. Ah! You must be a visiting stranger, then. Here to pay tribute and prostrate yourself before my radiance, no?"
Yvenn inclined his head in acknowledgement. It was, of course, what should be done. Only the most foolish of vampires walked into the den of another without paying their respects. Especially towards one as powerful as Joleline Merione. "You are correct, your ladyship. I come here in supplication, t-to say that I mean no harm to you or your house, and recognize you as the arbiter of your territory. I a-and my companions seek only to stay here for a few weeks, and I beg of you to leave them and I unharmed."
As he spoke, a lean Bosmer leaned in from his place in the crowd and whispered something in Lady Merione's ear, who sat silently for a few moments as he spoke, and as he drew away, her expression contorted into one of restrained amusement. The crowd watched with rapt attention. Things always grew interesting when she looked like that.
"My retainer here says you arrived in the company of mortals. A young noble, and his retinue, am I correct?"
Yvenn replies promptly, not even daring to lift his head. "You are, my lady. They serve as my disguise, and I play the role of a servant among them."
Joleline continued to smirk as she toyed with this new arrival. "Oh? And it gives you a constant supply of blood, I imagine."
Something in Yvenn's body language must have given him away, for the woman's smile grew wider. "Do my words upset you? You don't feed on such easy prey? But surely-" She feigns shock, and lets out a lilting laugh. "Ahahaha, don't tell me you actually are fond of these mortals? Actually, you must tell me. I'll have you drawn and quartered if you aren't honest. And I will know."
Yvenn's head sinks lower, his cheeks burning. "I... I am, my lady."
And then he could hear nothing but the jeering laughter of the crowd. Eventually, the vampiress raises a hand, and the laughter falls silent. Yvenn feels a soft, cold touch on the base of his chin, and his head is gently turned upward by an elegant finger to find himself staring into Joleline's eyes, with her standing not a foot away from him, looking from above as though she were a cat that had just caught a mouse in her paws. "Hmhmhm... it certainly explains why you asked for protection for both you and your traveling companions. But..." She paused dramatically, savoring the moment. "Surely you know the tithe I offer for such protections. Blood for blood. Where is the thrall you should have brought with you? Or was this all a waste of my time?" Her voice takes on a dangerous edge as she asks her question. She can clearly see the fear in Yvenn's eyes as he stammers out a reply. "W-w-w-well I could not procure a thrall but in my backpack there is enough blood potio-" Suddenly the world turns upside down, and he feels something cold touch his cheek. Its the stone floor. As his senses return to him, he sees Joleline standing over him, looking absolutely terrifying, and feels the metal boot of one of the knights painfully pressing down on the side of his head, pinning him to the ground. He whines like a struck dog and struggles briefly, before ceasing his movements and going limp. Well, mostly limp. Fear takes a hold of his body, and he can no longer conceal the shaking terror that wracks his frame. Joleline gestures to someone out of sight, and he feels hands roughly going through the contents of his backpack, the weight of it getting lighter and lighter as more of its load is removed. Eventually, a voice sounds, harsh and guttural. "Th' whelp 'as enough blood on 'im t' fill two men, yer ladyship." She arches an eyebrow, replying "Oh? Does he now?" and looking down questioningly at Yvenn, who gasps out a response between the painful throbs stabbing through his head. "I... I doubled... the amount... to- agh- to co... compensate... nnnhh..."

	The vampiric noble puts a hand on her hip and looks at him contemplatively. Perhaps he was smarter than he appeared. "Well. We'll see if this offering of yours is satisfactory." She holds her hand out, and a muscled, pale green arm quickly gives her one of the potions. She uncorks it and waves her fingers toward the bottle. Green trails of smoke snake out from her hand and encircle the flask, before vanishing. She nods. It isn't poisoned or cursed, at least. He didn't seem stupid enough to try that, but you could never be sure. Joleline delicately takes a sip of the brew, running it over her tongue like one might sample a fine wine, her face devoid of any hint of her intentions. A few seconds later, she kneels down, looking at Yvenn with a rather curious expression. "Its... odd. Nothing quite like I've had before. But not unpleasant. Where did you get this from?"
"I-its horker blood, your ladyship. H-harvested from far up n-n-north. I thought y-your court might like s-s-s-s-something new, your ladyship."
"Not even the blood of thinking beings? You truly are a noble soul." She says, her words dripping with sarcasm, but also a tinge of humor.
Joleline stands back up, and takes a seat once more on her throne.
"What is your name, traveler?"
"Y-Yvenn. Yvenn Mjarnessen, my lady." He can barely speak now, so overcome with dread.
Eventually she speaks again.
"I have made my decision."

The crowd waits with bated breath. One would swear they could hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room, had their hearts not stopped beating long ago.

"The petitioner Yvenn Mjarnessen's request... is granted."

The crowd sighs and begins to mutter among itself. Some seem pleased, others disappointed. Money changes hands discreetly. The knight lifts its boot from Yvenn's face and he immediately hauls himself up to a standing position and bows deeply. "Th-thank you your ladyship! I will not forget your kindness!"
Joleline smiles graciously. "Your thanks are noted. Sleep easily, for you are now under my protection. And do feel free to return." Her smile turns positively predatory. "Strangers like yourself can be so... entertaining."

To his credit, Yvenn managed to make it all the way out of the dining hall and have the doors close behind him before his limbs failed him and he collapsed into a shuddering, sobbing mess.