Break of Dawn

by Aymin111

Summary:

Vampires have increased their activity in Skyrim. Villages being raided, people being abducted. The Dawnguard has been reformed with the promise of defeating the Vampire threat, and their newest recruit joins with the desire to avenge those he's loved.

Notes:

Hey everyone! I'm new to AO3 and have been working on this fic for a few weeks now. Stumbled across this website and I figured I would upload it here as well! Hope you all enjoy it, please feel free to leave any feedback/ask any questions, I'm always happy to hear from anyone who's read through my stuff!

Chapter 1: Awakening

I should not have come here.

“I’ll never tell you anything. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me.” Kneeling on the ground, the vigilant looked at the two vampires towering over him. Despite his position, with his face bloodied and armour in tatters, he remained as proud as ever. That look of defiance was the one thing the beasts seemed unable to harm. Perhaps that was why the two of them scoffed down at the man, frustration visible on their faces.

Unknown to the vampires and the man on his knees there was another person witnessing their ‘confrontation’. Up on a ledge some distance away, a man clad in steel armour with a sword on his hip and shield buckled to his forearm was watching with his breath held. That man, an Imperial warrior sent by the Dawnguard named Arven had every muscle in his body tensed up, ready to move. He deliberated rushing down, fighting the vampires to save the man but he couldn’t just yet. Fighting two vampires head on like this was basically suicide.

“I believe you, Vigilant. And I don’t think you even know what you’ve found here,” said one of the vampires, a Nord. “So go and meet your beloved Stendarr.” With that snark on his face turning into an evil grin, he drew his sword and plunged it down through the collarbone of the Vigilant in a move that was so casual it made Arven’s stomach flip.

Oh, I really shouldn’t have come here.

Despite the voice in his head, the Imperial warrior remained crouched on the ledge above the two vampires. He seemed to have a rather unique skill of getting himself into situations like these. Situations which he didn’t want a to have single part of. But that didn’t seem to matter to fate. Or to whoever was pulling the strings of his life, dragging him to an isolated corner of Skyrim to investigate the actions of vampires.

Thankfully, exploring the cave he’d been tasked to investigate had been mostly straightforward to this point. He’d only come up against skeletons and vampire fledglings, ones too weak and new to the blood to be any real threat. There had been just one powerful vampire, however it was seriously injured. Sneaking up on it along with a silver crossbow bolt to the back had made the fight significantly easier.

Down below him the two vampires continued to bicker. From what the Imperial could gather one of them was called Lokil, and various other names were thrown about, yet none stuck in Arven’s mind. After slaying the Vigilant the two vampires turned away from the corpse and approached the ancient ruins further into the cave – ones with architecture unlike any that Arven had seen in modern years. Studying the two, they seemed stronger than the others he’d already killed. That could be a problem.

Remaining crouched on the upper ledge, Arven pulled out the scroll he’d recovered only moments ago. The paper was worn, with small tears in various areas but thankfully the writing was still mostly legible, with the incantation to summon a storm of fire written on the parchment. He had no idea why no one else had picked it up. This sort of item was rare, and honestly in this sort of situation it seemed too convenient. He’d be a fool not to make the most of it, however. While not the most skilled in destruction magic as he favoured restoration and melee combat, even the dumbest warrior knew how much damage just one scroll could cause.

As the two vampires crossed the bridge back to the ruins Arven stood, remaining hunched over as he descended the steps towards the pair. He passed the corpse of the vigilant, ignoring it for now before he stood before the bridge. Unfurling the scroll, Arven began to chant.

Instead of the magicka coming from his body he felt it surging within the scroll. All that energy caused his fingertips to grow hot underneath his plated gauntlets. With every word he spoke his voice grew louder, eventually alerting the two vampires. But, by the time they figured out what the stranger had done, it was too late for them.

A torrent of fire surrounded the two beasts, searing flames licking at their skin as the temperature rose well into the hundreds within seconds. The entire cavern lit up in a single moment. Their screams were almost drowned out by the cascading flames as they burnt, both vampires flailing and running straight towards the person who’d caused their pain.

After he’d cast the spell Arven discarded the now useless parchment and drew his sword - a unique Daedric artefact given to him by Meridia. Dawnbreaker let off a gentle light from its blade which grew stronger as it approached the two burning undead. The first vampire barely put up a fight, obviously in too much pain to focus. At least until the moment Arven put it out of its misery, his sword severing the head clean from the body, a holy light cauterizing the wound immediately as that blade seared any undead flesh it came into contact with. The other, Lokil somehow managed to draw his own weapon before frantically lunging forward with a blood-curdling scream, even as his flesh was melting from his face.

Stepping forward with one foot Arven raised his shield, using its edge to divert the strike from the vampire off to the side before then smashing Lokil in the face. After staggering the undead Arven went to give him the same treatment as the other vampire – a head cut cleanly from the shoulders, but the vampire dodged. Scrambling back from Arven, the burning vampire then lunged forward after throwing its weapon to the side.

Lokil swiped at Arven with dirt-covered claws in a desperate attempt. He got close, close enough that Arven could feel the heat coming from the vampire’s burning flesh. But in such a condition there was no coordination to the vampire’s attacks, and after lunging towards the Imperial the vampire found itself missing its target completely, staggering forward before turning around to catch a glimpse of Dawnbreaker a second before the blade penetrated his skull.

After both of the fiends were slain, the warrior still stood in place for a few moments longer with his shield raised, surveying his surroundings. His heart was beating like crazy, over and over each second until finally he let out a deep breath and relaxed. The cavern was empty, as far as he could tell.

“Fucking hell, I hate vampires.” Muttering to himself the man wiped the flat of the blade on his arm, removing the blood before returning it to its sheath and resting his shield across his back. With a grunt he leaned against the railing to one side of the platform he stood on, reaching towards his belt to unfasten a potion he quickly drank. It tasted foul, but he wasn’t going to risk catching a disease from anything in the cavern, let alone a vampire.

After catching his breath and composing himself, Arven turned back and walked over to the corpse of the vigilant, crouching in front of him. There was a pang of guilt in his heart. If he’d acted sooner, just descended the steps and fought the two vampires a moment earlier, perhaps the man would’ve lived?

Don’t think about that now. You’ve still got work to do.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the eyes of the man to close them. As he did so he couldn’t help but notice two puncture marks on his neck, marks of further torture that the man had to endure. With a curse being muttered under his breath, Arven then stood and drew Dawnbreaker once more. A second later and he had plunged the blade into the heart of the dead man, an act which made his stomach feel queasy from disgust and guilt.

But, he didn’t want to take the risk. Not if the man could’ve been infected with vampirism before he died.

Trying to clear his mind, Arven turned and approached the ancient ruins. Despite clearing out the cave he still needed to continue his search. Try and find whatever it was that had a bunch of vampires so interested. That was the main reason he was here, after all.

As he got closer the layout of the area became clear. Old, worn stone braziers were all laid out around a central pedestal. Each brazier was placed in a groove within the stone floor as well, almost as if they could be pushed around. Typical for a cavern like this as well, there were skeletons littered about the place. As he passed one sprawled out on the floor, he drew his sword and plunged the tip into the skull mid-stride. At least that didn’t solicit the same feeling of guilt as before.

Approaching one of the braziers Arven gave it a solid push. But as he did so, giving it a solid shove, nothing happened. It didn’t even budge.

Folding his arms over his chest, Arven clicked his tongue as he studied the object. “Okay. There’s grooves in the floor, handles, but you don’t move.” Giving the brazier a solid kick instead, partially to see if he could make it budge and partially from frustration, he simply ended up walking away with a slight limp. After trying another brazier and getting the same result he started studying the rest of the area. The only thing that stood out was a single pedestal in the middle.

When he got closer there was a small protrusion on the top. Almost like a button.

Alright, what’s the worst that could happen?

Placing a palm flat against the ‘button’ he pushed down. And in return, a spike drove itself up through his hand.

Immediately a loud curse from the man rang out through the cave. Arven withdrew his hand, recoiling immediately as he held the wounded hand in his other. The urge to kick the pedestal rose up within him along with the sharp pain, but in a moment of wisdom he decided not to do that.

Looking at the wound, a punctured hole straight through his palm, Arven winced as a soft yellow light radiated from his hand. The wound started to slowly close, skin regrowing from the glowing light before it eventually closed up, knitting itself together. Using magic like that left Arven feeling slightly tired, but it was worth it to remove the pain.

He’d need a new gauntlet, though. That part was annoying. However as he looked up he noticed that pressing the button actually had a result. Now, the stone grooves in the ground were emitting a somewhat beautiful, someone eerie purple glow.

The only thing he could think of to do now was to give a brazier another push. This time, it moved rather easily. And as it locked into a new position a bright purple flame erupted from it, signalling that he had done something.

It can’t be that straight forward. Right?

Thankfully, it was. A few minutes later with a sore, yet healed hand and the final brazier locked into place, the entire cavern seemed to rumble. Arven drew his sword and shield from reflex just as the floor beneath him started to give way, sinking down. He managed to jump back quickly enough to watch as the centre pedestal seemed to turn into a stone pillar of sorts, the floor around it being depressed enough to grant comfortable access to the pillar.

How ominous. Well, can’t go this far and back out now.

With his heart beating slightly faster, the Imperial approached the pillar with Dawnbreaker levelled horizontally, tip aimed directly forward. He didn’t know what to expect, but considering that vampires were after it he knew that it’d be nothing but trouble.

Oh, how right he was.

All it needed was a light tap from his shield and the ‘door’ to the pillar gave way. Arven stood ready with his entire body tensed, shield up as he expected almost anything. Magic, a trap, a freakishly strong draugr. He really, really hoped it wasn’t another draugr.

Instead, he got a woman.

A woman that fell directly onto him. As she stumbled Arven barely had time to drop his sword, opening his arms to catch her, stopping her from sprawling out across the floor.

“Woah, hey! Are you alright?” Arven asked, ending up with the woman in his arms. He supported her, giving her a light jostle to try and get some life back into her as she seemed to be sleeping.

A second later and she stirred, before looking up to him with bright yellow eyes, her wine-red hair obscuring half of her face.

”Unh… where is…” the woman started, before she raised a hand to her head, rubbing her temples. Blinking a few times, a look of confusion crossed her face. “Who sent you here?” She asked. As she looked up at him, Arven felt his breath catch.

Gods, she’s beautif- wait, fangs?!

The second he realised Arven pushed her back with his left hand, forcing the woman back against the stone pillar. She would’ve fallen back into her tomb of sorts but the gigantic scroll on her back blocked her from doing so. As soon as there was some distance between them Arven picked up his blade and held onto it with both hands, the sharp tip aimed directly at the vampire’s face.

“Woah, that is not the way I was hoping to be woken up!” The woman said. Despite the threat, she seemed incredibly relaxed. Almost as if she was dealing with a child waving a toy in her face. “Who are you?”

In response Arven tightened his grip on his sword before speaking.  “Who were you expecting?”

“I was expecting someone… like me, at least.” As she spoke, the woman raised a single finger up to the blade. She went to push it down, but recoiled once the blade singed her skin with a curse coming from her lips.

“Can you put that thing down? I’m not sure if you realise but waking up with a sword in your face isn’t the most enjoyable way to start your day,” she said, still seeming completely unthreatened.

“Does that normally work?” Arven asked. “Surely that doesn’t normally work. Every vampire I’ve ever met has tried to eat or kill me. Or both,” Arven replied.  “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not exactly trusting of you.” After speaking he took half a step forward, inching the blade closer to the woman.

But there was no panic in the woman’s eyes. She just looked fed up, if anything. “Look, I’m really tired and I have no idea what’s going on. Please just relax a bit?”

Well, she has a point. She’d hardly be a threat in her current state… wait, no! What am I thinking?

Shaking his head, Arven replied. “Nope, no deal.”

That seemed to annoy the woman as she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

“Charmer, aren’t you? Who even sent you?” she asked.

“The Dawnguard. No one you’d want to know, they’d want me to kill you on the spot.”

“Not fond of vampires, are they?”

“Sure, you could say that.” As he continued to look the woman in the eyes, Arven couldn’t shake an incredibly strong feeling of unease, his stomach feeling like a pit.

“Well look. Kill me, you’ve killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there’s something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is,” she said. As she spoke the vampire had her arms folded, idly drumming her fingers on her upper arm.

“What makes you so special, anyway?” Arven asked. In response the woman turned to the side, pointing to the scroll on her back.

“How many other vampires have you seen with an Elder Scroll on their back?” The tone she used was one of the most condescending Arven had ever heard, but once he realised what she was carrying he finally lowered his weapon.

“Wait, what? Where’d you get that?” Arven asked, taking half a step back. He knew about Elder Scrolls, but he didn’t trust them. He’d heard about the things they could do. He’d even seen some of it firsthand, although that wasn’t a pleasant memory. None of it really made any sense to him.

The woman shuffled on the spot, seeming somewhat awkward. “It’s… complicated. I can’t really talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Why is she apologising all of a sudden?

Finally, Arven decided to ask the most important question.

“Why were you locked away like this?” A long period of silence fell over the pair, the woman looking to the ground before replying.

“That’s… complicated. And I’m not totally sure if I can trust you. Brandishing your sword at me like this doesn’t really inspire friendship,” the woman said, pointing at the blade Arven still held. “But, if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family’s home.” After speaking she looked up, locking eyes with the Dawnguard soldier.

Something is… different, about this one. At least she hasn’t tried to bite me yet.

“You think I’m going to agree to that?” Arven asked, a brow raised underneath his helmet.

“We can fight if you want,” the woman replied. “I could use a good warm up after sleeping for so long.”

“I’d rather not, thanks,” Arven retorted.

“Sure. So, take me home,” the vampire replied. As if there was only two possible outcomes to their meeting. Perhaps there was.

“…Fine. Just don’t try anything reckless,” Arven said, a long sigh escaping from his lips. He was still holding his sword at his side, although he kept the tip pointed to the ground.

“I was going to say the same thing to you,” the woman replied. She brushed her hair out of her face, those yellow eyes piercingly bright in the dim light of the cave. “My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do. By the way… my name is Serana. Good to meet you.” After speaking Serana held out her hand, her other hand resting on her hip as she waited for a reply.

Okay, what kind of vampire wants to shake my hand? This is all sorts of… wrong.

Despite his thoughts Arven extended his hand, clasping Serana’s in a firm handshake.

“Arven,” he said, leaving it at that.

After a slightly awkward silence between them the two broke eye contact. Arven turned away, looking deeper into the cave while Serana took a few steps, raising her arms high above her head as she stretched. In doing so, she caught Arven’s eye.

Gods, she’s gorgeous. Shame about the whole bloodsucking bitch thing.

“So,” Arven said, turning his gaze from her again. “Any idea how to get out of here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she replied. “This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away. Which way did you come in?”

Arven pointed back over his shoulder. “That way, through some old caves.”

“Well, why don’t we head back out there?”

“Nah. These caves always loop around at the end, and I get the feeling we’re near the end of it,” Arven said. He conveniently left out the part about the vampire corpses he’d left on his way. Showing them to another vampire didn’t seem like the smartest move.

Raising his arm, Arven pointed in the opposite direction – a bridge connected to the other side of the platform they were on. “That way. Should lead us out.”

“Uh, I’m not so sure about that,” Serana said. “What if we hit a dead end?”

“Never happens. They always loop around.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Arven just shrugged in response, then he started walking off in the direction he chose. Serana just shook her head.

“You better be right about this,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Arven said. “Out of curiosity though, how long were you in there? Surely caves can’t change that much.”

“Good question,” she responded. “Hard to say. I… I can’t really tell. I feel like it was a long time.” She paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought for a few seconds that seemed to drag on forever. “Who is Skyrim’s High King?”

Arven let out a brief laugh. “That was actually a matter for debate, up until very recently,” he said.

“Oh, wonderful. A war of succession. Good to know the world didn’t get boring while I was gone. Who were the contenders?” As they walked Serana stayed a few paces behind, her stride incredibly relaxed with a long blade strapped to her waist. Her demeanour was the polar opposite of the Imperial in front of her, sword and shield always raised and ready.

“The Empire supports Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim who were loyal to Ulfric. At least until he lost the war,” Arven said.

“Empire? What… what Empire?” Serana said, making Arven stop in his tracks. He turned to face her, peering through his helmet.

“The… Empire. From Cyrodiil,” he said slowly, enunciating every word.

Serana’s eyes widened. “Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?” For the first time since they’d met, Serana looked visibly worried. “I must have been gone longer than I thought…” Shaking her head, she started walking again – overtaking Arven as she peered through the darkness in search of an exit. “Please, let’s hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what’s happened.”

The Empire has been around for… hundreds of years by now. How old is she? Arven shook his head, quickly catching up with her.

“Hey,” he said, trying to catch her eye. “The Empire has been around for a long time.”

Serana didn’t respond, only quickening her pace.

“Are you… okay?”

“What, is the little vampire hunter worried about me? That’s sweet,” she said. Her voice seemed even more sarcastic than usual.

“What can I say. Any vampire is dangerous in the best of moods, let alone when they’re angry or upset,” Arven said.”

“How touching.”

Just as Arven was about to respond the sound of stone cracking echoed around the cavern. He looked around in the dim light, raising his shield just in time as a gargoyle jumped from the shadows and crashed into his shield head-on. He let out a yell in defiance as he held his shield out in front of him, his sword-hand pushing to try and fend off the gargoyle as it made him slide back through the dirt.

As the weight of the beast threatened to push him down, claws swiping past the shield to try and reach him he heard the sound of a second gargoyle coming to life.

Shit. She’s probably far too tired to defend herself, and she has answers.

With a loud cry of defiance Arven dug his heels into the ground and pushed, slamming his shield into the face of the beast. Sending the gargoyle reeling he then swung with his sword, slicing the claw that came swiping at him before burying his sword into the chest of the creature.

With a kick to separate his blade from the gargoyle’s corpse he swung around, looking for Serana or the other creature so he could step in before anything happened. Instead of finding the vampire fighting off the attacker, he found her standing idly by with one hand on her hip, sparks dancing between the fingers on her other hand.

Wait, what?

Looking further away he saw the other gargoyle. It was entirely lifeless, scorch marks on its chest that arced along its entire body. Not only that but its arm had been cleanly blown off, along with a chunk of its torso.

“Are you alright? You seemed to struggle a bit there,” Serana said with an infuriatingly cocky expression.

“Yeah, fine. You… What?” Lost for words he simply pointed at Serana, then at the gargoyle she’d dispatched. He was thankful for his helmet as he knew his expression would look utterly ridiculous.

In response Serana just flexed her fingers, sparks of electricity dancing from her fingertips before dissipating into the air.

“Please, it’s one gargoyle. Can we keep moving, now?” she said.

“…Sure,” Arven replied. He cursed his stupidity. Any vampire locked away with an Elder Scroll was likely important, and any vampire who was important was generally old.

With age, came power.

As Serana walked off Arven caught himself staring for a moment, and she noticed.

“Yes?” She said.

“Just how old are you, exactly?” He asked.

Her expression deadpanned. “Don’t you know not to ask a woman that? These… Dawnguard, was it? They don’t really teach you how to speak properly, do they?”

Arven shrugged. “I can shout pretty well.”

“What a useful skill. Thanks.”

If only you knew.

The rest of the journey through the cave was mostly uneventful. A few more gargoyles were placed along old ruins, similar to the one’s he came across earlier. Thankfully they were in plain enough view that Arven could put them to rest the moment they broke free.

He didn’t take any chances. He didn’t want to be ambushed, sure, but he also didn’t want to seem incompetent in front of a vampire. Fighting a powerful vampire was a last resort, and the best way to not fight them was to make them worried for their own safety.

While he had hoped for no other threats to present themselves, such a thing was wishing for the impossible when crawling around dungeons in Skyrim. Besides the gargoyles, when the pair emerged into a wide open area with steps leading down to a central platform, they found themselves not only surrounded by skeletons, but draugr.

The second he saw the undead Nordic warriors, Arven darted to the closest one. A few skeletons on the way swung at him but they could be ignored for now. He wanted to kill every draugr before they could open their mouths. The first one fell without issue, Dawnbreaker sliding into it’s chest before it could even react.

A moment later and two more were advancing, old axes raised high. Each one brought them down almost at the same time just as Arven drew his sword from the chest of the one he’d just slain. Jumping back he barely managed to avoid each axe, with one draugr stepping off balance while the other shifted its weight and swung again, the blade of the axe coming for Arven’s side.

Given the close proximity and awkward ‘stage’ he was fighting on, the warrior wasn’t left with much choice except to catch the attack on his shield, the force jarring his arm through the impact. He caught it with ease though, and that allowed him to stab the tip of his blade into the draugr’s head. Kicking the undead away, he then parried a blow from the remaining undead and dispatched it in a similar manner.

All the while Serana stood above, watching with an amused look on her lips. It was almost as if she was watching a show, with the man providing some level of entertainment for her, all as she idly picked off any skeletons that came close with a blast of lightning or a well placed lance of ice. In studying the human she noticed that he moved faster than she’d expect for a regular human, easily fast enough to keep up with any beast, or perhaps a vampire.

But nothing that prompted any worry from her. With the exception of his blade.

Despite his attempts though, Arven didn’t slay all the draugr in time. One, standing on the other side of the platform with rusted armour and a large greatsword drawn eyed off the man slaying the undead. But instead of charging with its weapon, the monster opened its mouth just in time for Arven to notice.

Ah, shit.

The last thing Arven wanted was to be shouted at. He broke out into a full sprint, Dawnbreaker in one hand as he shoved skeletons to the side to clear a path.

“Fus…”

Just as the draugr braced itself, leaning back with its chest puffed out Arven leapt at it, blade raised high to drive it right into its stomach as the momentum behind the attack ended up with the warrior tackling the undead onto the ground. As he ended up on top of the dying monster, Arven then slammed the edge of his shield into the draugr’s face, eliminating any chance at all of the shout being formed.

Deep, almost panicked breaths came from his chest as Arven stood, turning around to make sure there were no other threats. But the only remaining enemies were a few skeletons, and Serana was taking care of those. Or, toying with them, might be a more accurate description.

While he had stopped the shout from being formed, even being around draugr made Arven’s skin crawl. That feeling was amplified when in the back of the cave Arven stumbled across a large, towering stone wall. It seemed rather out of place, until he realised what it was. Stepping closer, he saw the script of dragons written across it.

A bunch of vampires and draugr wasn’t enough to deal with, was it?

Approaching the wall, Arven ignored the sickness in his gut as he placed a hand on the old stone. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, absorbing the knowledge of the text. It was an incredibly unpleasant feeling, and the urge to simply pass the wall by stuck in his head.

But he didn’t have the luxury of doing so, unfortunately.

“What are you doing?” Serana asked when she noticed him dragging his fingers gently across the stone.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just a fan of old carvings like this,” Arven replied.

“Can you read that? I don’t even know what script it is,” Serana asked as she studied the wall, her head titled off to one side out of curiosity.

“Not really, no.”

Walking past him, Serana peered further into the cave, eyeing off a path that extended out before them. “You know, you’re not a bad runner,” she mentioned.

“I… thanks?” Arven said, turning to her with a confused look after he was done with the word wall.

“The way you ran towards one of those things. Looked like you were running for your life,” she remarked with a smirk.

“I suppose that’s something you’ve seen quite a bit, haven’t you?” Arven retorted.

Serana’s expression turned slightly, a rather unimpressed look on her face. She went to respond, but saved her energy as Arven had started walking off, not paying her any more attention. She found it strange. A mortal speaking so brazenly to her was a mixture of frustrating, and somewhat refreshing.

An hour or so after they had met the pair emerged out the back end of the cave and Serana saw the world for the first time in hundreds of years. She stepped out into the open, ignoring the snow falling down around them as she looked up to the sky. Even though it was the middle of the night, the moonlight illuminated their surroundings rather well, and Arven could get a better look at her.

It only confirmed what he already knew. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. And unfortunately, also the most dangerous.

“Ah, it’s so good to breathe again!” Serana said as she took in a deep breath. “Even in this weather, it’s better than the cave.”

“Anything beats a tomb, right?” Arven said.

“You sure know how to brighten a conversation, don’t you?”

Once again, Arven shrugged.

“Alright then. Which way is home?” Serana asked, looking around as the moon shone down brightly upon the land.

“No idea. Let’s walk until we find a road and go from there. I’ve got a map.” Arven said before he started walking in a random direction.

Serana paused for a moment, but unable to come up with a better solution she started following.

“By the way,” Arven said. “Told you so.”

“Pardon?”

“About the cave. It looped around in the end, got us out of there. Told you.”

Serana shook her head. “You’re an idiot. I hope you realise that.”

Beneath his helmet, Arven couldn’t help but agree, cursing himself for his stupidity. After all, what other word was there to describe a vampire hunter who was escorting a vampire home?

Yet, despite himself, he managed a brief smile.

Chapter 2: Castle Volkihar

Notes:

Chapter 2! Uploading this at the same time as the 1st and 3rd to catch up.

“Do you have to stand so close to me?” Serana asked, her long hair blowing behind her in the harsh wind.

“Any further away and I couldn’t see you,” Arven replied. He was around a single pace away from the vampire with just enough room for a person to squeeze in between them, if they so wanted.

“Your eyesight must be terrible,” Serana replied.

“We’re in a blizzard. No one can see in these conditions,” Arven said. He was trying to be subtle when he kept checking up on Serana, but due to the limited vision he had and the restricting helmet he wore, he mostly ended up turning his head 90 degrees to the side.

“Well, no mortal can,” Serana said. The difference in their posture was incredibly obvious. Arven had his shoulders hunched, trying to limit the amount of surface area that was facing the front of the blizzard while Serana strode along side him, standing up tall and proud as if the weather and visibility were both perfect.

“Seriously though,” she continued. “You don’t need to keep checking; I’m not going anywhere. I want to go home.”

“Miss your family, huh?” Arven said. He almost sounded bitter, although it was hard to tell with the raging winds filling their ears.

“…Not quite. It’s… not the most welcoming place, but depending on who’s around, I’ll be safe there.” Serana said.

“Didn’t you say it was your family home?” Arven replied. “Why wouldn’t you be safe?”

“Let’s just say that my mother and father had a bit of a falling out. I’m not in any danger, really. It’ll just be more unpleasant to run into my father.” Serana waited for a response after she spoke, but instead an uncomfortable silence just fell over the pair. Arven simply stared at the woman, his helmet making his expression impossible to read.

“Ugh, saying all this out loud makes it sound so… common. ‘Little girl who doesn’t get along with her father.’ Read that story a hundred times.” Serana shook her head as she spoke, an almost disgusted look souring her beautiful features.

“Almost makes you sound like a regular person,” Arven said. Serana frowned.

“I may be a vampire, but I’m still human you know,” she said.

No, you’re not.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m not going to run off, so you can relax a little.”

“I’m not worried about you running off. I’m worried that any second now, you’ll remember where you are.” Arven said. Despite his shield on his back and sword in its sheath, Serana started to notice that his hands were never too far away from either. He was constantly tense.

“I’m worried that once you remember where you are, how to get home, that you’ll stab me in the back and leave me to die in a ditch, and I won’t be able to get to the bottom of all this.” As he spoke, Serana remained quiet.

“Once I get you home, you won’t need me anymore. Honestly, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but the idea of a bunch of vampires with an Elder Scroll scares me shitless and I don’t quite know what else to do besides follow along.” Arven’s voice continually grew less calm, his mind racing as he tried to justify his current actions.

He was being blatantly honest. He had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do was in his current situation. It was idiotic. He just couldn’t do nothing, so something suicidal like walking into a vampire’s home seemed better than that.

“What happened to you to make you so distrustful of vampires?” Serana asked.

“Not sure if you know this, but most people generally don’t like vampires. You aren’t the most popular bunch.”

“Sure, most people dislike us, but you hate us. I’ve known you for a few hours and it’s the most obvious part of your personality. No one hates like this without good reason.”

“There’s a reason.”

Serana didn’t push the topic. She wasn’t in much of a talking mood, and that wasn’t exactly the nicest conversation she’d ever had. The two simply continued walking, Arven doing his periodic checks every 10 seconds or so.

Earlier on he’d decided to start walking to Castle Volkihar immediately. The Sun had just set as they excited the cave earlier, leaving them a decent amount of time to make some progress. If they walked all throughout the night at a decent pace, they should be able to make it just as the sun was rising. That is, if his map was accurate.

Initially he was worried about someone running across them and causing problems, instantly recognising Serana as a vampire due to her eyes. The blizzard reduced those fears to nothing, no one would be foolish enough to go out in these conditions at night. Well, almost no one. When he’d brought that up to Serana she simply laughed at him. According to her, no one would be able to see her true eye colour. They’d all just see her as a (mostly) regular woman.

He’d asked her why he could see them, and she simply replied that she didn’t have time to use any illusion magic since she’d just woken up. Unknown to Serana, Arven also had a charm around his neck specifically designed to resist any magics from a vampire. He just didn’t want her to know that.

After almost two hours they passed the turn-off to Morthal. There were a few lights still on, barely visible in the blizzard. Serana watched them the entire time they were in view but they moved straight past the town.

“You know,” Serana said. “We can stop and sleep through the day, continue the next evening. We can even walk during the day. It won’t be pleasant, but as long as it doesn’t shine directly on me, I’m okay. Just a bit weaker. You don’t have to exhaust yourself.”

Arven thought for a moment. The idea of her being weaker was honestly a pretty good one, it just meant them stopping and resting. If he stopped, he might fall asleep. If that happened, chances were he’d either lose her or die.

“No,” he said. “We keep walking. Through the day if we need to, since you’ll be fine.”

“Aren’t you tired? Freezing? How haven’t you frozen to death yet?” Serana asked. She almost seemed worried.

As if right on queue Arven let out an almost silent breath. “Yol.” Heat escaped from his lips, warming his face in an instant as the warmth then spread throughout his entire body. It was a handy trick he’d learnt a few moons after discovering he could shout fire. If he toned it down, put less force into it then instead of breathing fire he simply warmed his body. Handy for when it gets too cold.

“Tired, sure. Freezing, not at all. We keep going.” Arven said. Serana just shrugged and followed along.

 A bit after Morthal the blizzard stopped, finally giving way to clear skies and a bright, full moon. After the weather had cleared Serana slid her hood off, brushing some snow from her hair. She actually smiled as she took a deep breath again.

No one that old should be that attractive, Arven thought.

“How much longer until we’re there?” Serana asked.

“6 hours, maybe? We’re about a quarter of the way there.” Arven replied.

“Seriously? We’ve been walking for hours!”

“Only a couple so far.”

Serana just sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “We really are going to be walking all night, aren’t we?” She asked.

Arven nodded. Reaching onto his belt he unbuckled a small satchel, taking out a green potion. Over the few hours they’d been walking his steps had slowly gotten slower and shorter. He’d been awake for a long time now, and half of that time had been spent fighting. Understandably, he was exhausted. The warrior just didn’t want to show it.

Reaching up he took off his helmet with one hand, his hair matted with sweat clinging to the inside of the helm momentarily. His dark brown hair was messy, his fringe almost reaching his lips when he didn’t have it swept back. Wiping his hair, the dirt and grime from his face Arven brought the bottle up to his lips and downed it in a few moments. He drank voraciously, as if he was dying of thirst. He didn’t notice but Serana was watching with an amused smirk as he did so.

After finishing the contents of the stamina potion, he placed it back in the satchel it came from and went to don his helmet once more, but paused when he noticed Serana looking at him.

“…What?” He asked.

Serana just turned away with a hint of a smile on her lips. “Nothing. It’s just amusing, you’re thirstier than I am.”

With a grunt Arven placed his helmet back on and caught up with Serana again, walking along her side. Now that the blizzard had passed, they were walking a few more paces further apart. He initially dismissed what she said, but then the Imperial realised something.

“Actually, aren’t you thirsty?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Serana asked.

“Well, you haven’t drank… eaten… in a while.”

“Understatement of the year, but you’re right.”

“Well, is that an issue?” Arven asked. He was trying to approach the topic cautiously; he didn’t want to give her an invitation to go off hunting. He also didn’t want her collapsing on him.

“No, it’s not. I am feeling weak, but I’ll be fine until I get home.”

If this is her when she’s weak, I’d hate to see how strong she is when she’s sated.

“Right,” Arven said. “Good to know.”

“I mean, if you’re offering, I’ll gladly take a bite out of you.” Serana turned to look at Arven as she spoke, offering him a quick wink. The walk was long and boring, so she had to find entertainment somehow. She decided she’d find that entertainment by toying with a stuck-up warrior.

“No.”

“No?” Serana asked? “That’s it? Oh Gods, you’re dull. Can you show some expression, make a joke? Something?”

 Arven looked straight at Serana. He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Out of all the people to wake me up, did it have to be you?”

“Yep.”

Pouting heavily, Serana folded her arms and kept on walking, picking up the pace slightly to force Arven to keep up. A few moments later sparks began to dance between her fingers, the electricity building up before she discharged the smallest amount in Arven’s direction.

The lightning zapped him and he jumped, a small yelp coming from him. His voice broke.

Serana cracked up almost instantly. “Oh God, what was that?”

“Nothing. That was nothing,” he replied, trying his best to act entirely normal.

“That was hilarious!” Holding her stomach Serana bend over at the waist, her laughing echoing throughout the woods around them. If she wasn’t so annoying, the sound would actually be quite pleasant, Arven thought.

“Is this what happens when you’re locked away for a few hundred years? You go a little insane?” Arven asked. His cheeks were slightly red under his helmet.

“Oh please, I am not even close to being insane. Anyone would find that funny.” After she’d finished laughing Serana straightened up, wiping a single tear from her eye.

“They really wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, what’s not to love? One moment you’re acting all tough, ‘Oh look at me, I’m the powerful vampire slayer! I don’t need any sleep, this blizzard is my bitch!’ Then you squeal like a child!”

“Wonderful, not only am I stuck with a vampire, I’m stuck with a vampire that’s lost her mind.”

“I have not, but if this trip was any duller, I just might go crazy. You can’t blame me for trying to have a little fun.”

Arven sighed. “I suppose not.” A part of him felt slightly guilty, and he felt that it really couldn’t hurt to relax just a little bit. Serana hadn’t done anything suspicious so far, nothing that gave Arven a reason to distrust her. The only thing she was guilty of was being a vampire.

That’s reason enough, he thought. He shook his head, closing his eyes to try and clear his mind. He couldn’t trust her. He’d known people who had trusted a vampire, and they all ended up hurt or dead. Or worse.

This is what they do. They trick you, seduce you, use you. They’re all the same.

“Just keep on walking, would you?” Arven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” Serana didn’t say much more after that, but she did have a small smile on her lips for a good while afterwards.

By the time dawn was just starting to break, the sky getting the smallest hints of light from the East, the pair had made it to the frozen tundra of Skyrim. A short while later and they spotted Castle Volkihar off in the distance.

“That’s it, out there to the north,” said Serana. She had her hood up now and had put gloves on her hands. She’d covered up every bit of skin that might be exposed to the sun. “We used to keep a boat around here to get there and back.”

Arven didn’t reply, instead walking down the small hill they had crested, his boots crunching in the snow beneath. Serana followed, albeit more slowly than usual.

“You coming?” Arven called behind him, stopping after he’d put a decent distance between them.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just feeling a little light-headed.” Serana replied.

“You alright?”

“Fine, just… hungrier than I thought I’d be. I’m alright.”

They found the boat easily. A small jetty had been built and it was in surprisingly decent condition. It certainly didn’t seem hundreds of years old. They both got in the boat and Arven started to row, Serana sitting in front of him.

“So. This is your home, huh?” Arven asked.

“This is it. Home sweet… castle.” Serana replied.

“You never mentioned it being a literal castle.”

“I know, I didn’t want you to think I was one of those… you know,” as she spoke Serana waved her hands about in the air, her tongue getting caught as she tried to think of a word that escaped her. “Just, one of those women who sit in their castle all day? I don’t know. Coming from a place like this, well… it’s not really me.”

“…Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Arven said. “Just… didn’t really expect you to care about other people’s opinions all that much.”

“I normally don’t,” Serana said.

The hell does that mean?

After pulling up at the shore, they both got out and walked up the beach until the ground beneath them turned to stone, a road lined with statues of gargoyles now between them and the entrance to the castle.

“These aren’t going to come to life and jump me, are they?” Arven asked, his shoulder aching slightly as he remembered being crash-tackled by a gargoyle back in the crypt.

Serana chuckled. “They won’t. But if they do, I’ll save you again.”

Arven took a step forward, but as he did Serana reached out and grabbed his shoulder. The moment she did, the warrior flinched and recoiled, turning to face her.

“Ah, sorry. I just… before we go in there,” she said.

“…Yeah?”

“I just wanted to thank you for getting me this far. Even if it wasn’t the most pleasant of trips, I appreciate it. And don’t worry, after we get in there, I’m going to go my own way for a while,” Serana said. She waited to see if Arven said anything, but when he was silent, she continued.

“I know your friends, and you, would probably want to kill everything in there. I’m hoping you can show some more control than that, for your own safety. Once we’re inside, just keep quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead.” After she finished speaking, Serana took a few steps in front of Arven and slowly walked towards the castle.

“Sounds good to me,” Arven said under his breath.

As they approached, an old, thin man stood up straight with a shocked expression. “Lady Serana’s back!” He called out. “Open the gate!”

“Lady, huh?” Arven said.

“What of it?” Serana asked.

“Aren’t ladies supposed to be all dignified?”

“Oh, shut up.”

The gate was raised and they both walked in. After entering through the main door Arven almost gagged as an incredibly powerful scent of death and blood assaulted his senses. It took everything in him not to throw up in his helmet.

The first person to greet them, unlike the watchman, was a vampire.

“Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes! My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!” The vampire called out behind him, his voice echoing out.

“I guess I’m expected,” Serana said as she stepped into the hall, beginning to descend a staircase into a large, wide dining hall. The lighting was dim, but as Arven slowly followed Serana, feeling the eyes of the vampire that had called out to everyone drilling into his back, he got a good look at what he was walking into.

Three long dining tables, arranged in the shape of a ‘U’ were in the middle of the hall, men and women all sitting on the outside, facing in. Arven didn’t know if they were all vampires, but the vast majority were at least. It only took a second to figure out where the overwhelming stench had come from.

There were carcases, fresh ones lying on the tables. Vampires were greedily digging into the bodies, tearing flesh from bone and drinking the blood. Some parts were served up on tables, and bloody kegs were placed around the room with wine glasses to go with them. Where ever Arven laid his eyes, there was blood. On the tables, on the floor, on the carpet. On the faces and hands of every single creature in the castle.

The sight was so shocking that for a second, he didn’t even realise that aside from Serana, everyone had their eyes on him.

“I can’t believe it.” A voice rang out from the centre of the room. It wasn’t loud, but it was powerful. Arven felt himself stand up straighter, looking to the man in the centre of the room who was holding out a hand to Serana.

“My long-lost daughter returns at least.” As the man spoke Serana slowly approached, still maintaining a decent distance between the two. “I trust you have my Elder Scroll?”

Serana scoffed. “After all these years, that’s the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll.”

“Of course I’m delighted to see you, my daughter.” When the man spoke, every other vampire stopped what they were doing. He had their full attention. It was somewhat impressive, Arven had never seen someone who could make a vampire stop feeding voluntarily. “Must I really say the words aloud?” The man, Serana’s father took a step closer to his daughter. Serana took a step back.

“Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike,” he continued.

What a lovely man, Arven thought.

“Now, tell me. Who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?” Every eye, almost in unison shifted from the man speaking to Arven in an instant. He had never felt more uncomfortable and exposed in his entire life.

“This is my… saviour, the one who freed me,” Serana said.

A small smile crept up on Serana’s father’s lips, and he slowly approached Arven.

“For my daughter’s safe return, you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?” He asked. Despite his words, Arven didn’t feel an ounce of thankfulness coming from the man.

“Arven.”

The vampire nodded. “I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are.”

“A reclusive cannibal cult.” Arven didn’t know why he said that. It was idiotic. Serana did chuckle a little after he said it, though.

“No, not quite,” Harkon said, obviously rather unimpressed by the jest. “We are the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim.”

Heard that before, Arven thought. Although, something made him more inclined to believe Harkon. The castle probably helped with that.

“For centuries we lived here, far form the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most.” Harkon said, looking over at Serana.

The girl, or the scroll?

“So, what happens now?” Arven asked. He would’ve felt immensely safer with his sword in his hand, the weapon whose hilt was glowing incredibly bright with this many undead around. He’d even noticed several vampires staring at it. Arven wasn’t about to draw his weapon in a room full of enemies, though.

Harkon seemed to think for just a moment before replying. “You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded.”

“If it’s a dinner invitation, I’ll have to pass,” Arven said. He noticed Serana rolling her eyes.

“There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter,” Harkon said after ignoring Arven’s jest. Arven couldn’t help but notice the order in which he referred to those two important “items”.

“I offer you my blood,” Harkon continued. Arven went pale underneath his helmet. “Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again.”

Immediately Arven began to shake his head. When he spoke, his voice was stammered, weaker than normal. “N-no, I refuse your gift.”

Instead of being offended, Harkon just smiled. “Perhaps you need convincing? Behold, the power!” Holding his arms out to the side Harkon’s skin began to bleed, his form shifting and twisting upon itself before a horrifying, deathly scream boomed from the man.

Where moments ago a regular vampire stood, now there was a beast who’s very presence made Arven want to turn around and run as fast and as far as he could. Every bit of exhaustion that he felt evaporated in a single moment, and all he felt now was terror. Harkon now towered over Arven with grey skin, a demonic visage and crooked, tattered wings sprouting from his back.

“This is the power I offer!” Harkon said, his voice resembling that of the Greybeards in its intensity. “This is the power of a Vampire Lord! Now, make your choice.”

Backing up from Harkon, Arven placed a hand on his sword and drew a few inches of the blade out of its sheath before he even realised what he was doing. The pure blade illuminated the floor around him, reflecting off of the blood and gore splattered on the tiles.

 “No, I refuse. I don’t want your gift,” he said. Somehow, Arven managed to tear his eyes away from Harkon to look at Serana for just a second. She almost seemed ashamed, with a small hint of panic in her eyes as she looked back and forth between Harkon and Arven.

Harkon noticed the blade in Arven’s hand. His eyes grew enraged as he studied the metal that was visible, understanding dawning on his face. Arven realised that if he was as old as he thought, chances are that Harkon knew of Dawnbreaker, and he couldn’t be pleased about its presence.

“Not only do you turn down the offer of a lifetime, but you threaten me?” Harkon said. He advanced on Arven, floating across the floor effortlessly. “I should kill you where you stand!”

“I saved your daughter when I could’ve killed her, and I brought her home. A life for a life, let me leave this place!” Arven called out, trying to make his voice mirror the intensity of Harkon’s. In doing so his dragon blood flared up in his veins, his words almost turning into a shout as he made the floor rumble and the roof vibrate, dust falling down. That made Harkon hesitate.

Arven’s heart was beating incredibly fast, the sound of blood rushing filling his ears. He knew that every Vampire in the room could hear it as well. Drawing his sword fully he stood with it held in both hands, shield still resting on his back.

“Allow me to leave, I will not bother you again,” the Dawnguard soldier said.

In response Harkon descended to the floor, his bare feet touching the carpet beneath. He still remained in the demonic form.

“Very well,” Harkon said. “You are prey, like all mortals. Leave this place, you are banished!”

Arven ran. He didn’t spare anyone a second look, instead climbing the stairs and sprinting out into the open. As soon as he ran through the entrance, pushing past the confused watchman he took in a deep breath of clean air once more, letting it fill his lungs. He sprinted half-way down the stone path before he hunched over and rested his hands on his knees, panting heavily as he struggled to calm down.

The warrior felt as if he was having a panic attack. He’d fought countless vampires before. He’d even fought dragons! But this, this was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life.

Back inside the castle, Harkon had resumed his humanoid figure, walking back to his seat. Serana followed closely behind him.

“Why did you threaten him!?” Serana demanded. “He saved me and brought me back, you had no right to do that!”

“He had no right to insult me in my own home! The fool is lucky his head is still attached to his body,” Harkon retorted. The Vampire Lord took his seat again, drumming his fingers on the wooden table as he thought to himself. Serana stood beside him, her face clouded with anger although she remained silent.

Then, Harkon spoke to the court. “I don’t quite enjoy being talked down to and threatened in my own home. If anyone were to silence a man who’d disrespect me, my name and my home, I would be very appreciative.”

Serana’s expression dropped, a look of shock and disbelief on her face.

“No! You can’t do that, father! He brought you me and the scroll, you can’t kill him!” Serana said, pleading with her father.

“I’m doing no such thing, my darling girl. I’m just enjoying my meal. What the members of this court do is entirely up to them.”

Outside Arven had started walking back to the boat, not looking behind him as he wanted to leave every memory of that castle behind for good. Eventually, the sound of footsteps on stone reached his ears. He spun, his hands free as he had sheathed his sword once more. Standing a hundred or so metres away from him, he saw a lot of vampires.

There were at least 10 all standing together. Despite it being daytime the clouds had covered Castle Volkihar and it was raining lightly. Arven cursed his luck.

The warrior watched the vampires as they all stood idly by, no one making a move. One of them bared his fangs, hissing. Then they all charged.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

Drawing his sword, Arven began to think. He couldn’t run, they’d catch him. He couldn’t swim away, they’d catch him or he’d drown in his armour. He couldn’t fight them, he was tired and every vampire here was ancient. He didn’t know if any of them could transform like Harkon, and he didn’t want to find out. He only had one valid idea, and he hoped it would work.

Inside Serana continued arguing with her father, but after realising she was getting no where she turned and ran towards the stairs.

“Don’t be a fool Serana, it’s just a human. Just some cattle. Leave it be.”

Serana ignored her father, ascending the stairs within a second as she ran towards the door. Just as she burst outside, she caught the view of Arven standing his ground, sword and shield raised as he was just about to be swarmed by vampires. For some reason, his helmet was off.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

Opening his mouth wide a torrent of flames erupted from the Dragonborn, bathing the stone before him in fire as it advanced towards the vampires. Each one of the undead immediately changed their direction. Some turned around, fleeing as flames licked at their heels while others dived off the side of the path. Almost every one suffered burns to some degree.

The shout lasted for a good few seconds until the stone had begun to melt, and Arven only stopped as he felt his fatigue getting the better of him. He didn’t kill any vampire, but the attack had its effect. They all thought him to be too dangerous to risk their own safety attacking now, and that was all the warrior needed.

Placing his shield on his back, Arven kept Dawnbreaker in his hand and turned around to approach the boat. Just as he did he caught Serana’s eye, noticing a look of pure shock on her face. He chose to ignore it. Climbing onto the boat he had no issues sailing away, every vampire standing eerily still and staring at him as he faded away to the horizon.

Seriously, fuck today.

Chapter 3: A Pact of Convenience

Notes:

Chapter 3! After this updates will be sporadic, I'm aiming for at least one a fortnight depending on work. Hope you've enjoyed it all so far!

Serana sat idly on a chair in the main hall of Castle Volkihar, one leg crossed over the other as her fingers drummed on the wooden table before her. Around her vampires were all feasting, celebrating her return as she sat at the side of her father. They were all revelling in the occasion as thralls continued to bring them more food and blood.

One of the vampires had charmed a thrall to dance in the middle of the hall, acting more like a jester as they essentially flailed about. All the vampires laughed, even Harkon let out a small chuckle. Serana was the only one who didn’t find any joy in it.

Shortly after the warrior who’d escorted her back to the castle had fled, she’d discovered that dragons were roaming around Skyrim once more. Not only that, but since the dragons had returned it meant the return of the Dragonborn, a human with the blood of a dragon who’s not only able to slay the beasts, but is also able to absorb their powers and their very souls.

It all sounded like a fairy-tale to Serana, but she couldn’t deny what she saw. The fire that the warrior had summoned was equal to, if not greater than a master-level destruction mage. Not only that, but the force in his voice was almost terrifying. A part of her was worried. Someone that strong was easily a threat to any vampire, even before taking into consideration the Daedric artefact that he held.

She also wondered why he didn’t use his power in the crypts when fighting off the draugr and gargoyles.

“Daughter?” asked Harkon, the man looking over at Serana.

“Oh, sorry father. What did you say?” replied Serana.

“You seem rather distracted.”

“I’m just… tired, I think. I’m sure my body is still adjusting to being awake again. Plus, that was the first meal I’ve had in a few hundred years.”

Harkon nodded to himself. “Rest if you need to daughter, I am simply glad to see you back among us.”

Serana would’ve liked to believe that. After she had sated her thirst, a thrall offering himself in an attempt to please Lord Harkon, her strength had returned almost immediately. It felt good, she couldn’t deny that. With her strength back she made sparks of lightning crackle around her fingers as she flexed the magicka in her body over and over without releasing it, causing her skin to tingle and crawl in a strangely satisfying way. While entertaining for a moment she couldn’t ignore the frustration she already felt at being back inside the castle under direct supervision.

She could feel Harkon’s eyes on her constantly and despite her age she felt like a child once more, trapped under an adult’s care. The scroll had been immediately taken from her after things settled down and Harkon handled it with as much care as a father would handle their newborn child. She almost felt jealous of the damn thing, and after realising that she was disgusted with herself.

I need to get out of here, she thought.

___

Good lord, this man works fast, Arven thought as he approached Fort Dawnguard once more. When he left the fort was manned, but dirty. It needed some serious work. Now the fortifications had been built. A palisade had been constructed before the fort and as he approached Arven had to identify himself to two guards stationed with crossbows. They didn’t know his name, but showing them Dawnbreaker and casting a restoration spell had been proof enough that he wasn’t undead.

Past the wall men and women were training, sparring with swords and practising their aim on targets set up around the place. Some proper stables had even been built. The sheer change in such a short time astounded Arven. It had only been just over a week since he left, departing straight for the crypt before taking Serana home. The trip back was the long part, travelling by carriage throughout the entire province of Skyrim. During the endless hours he’d let restoration magic slowly burn through his magicka every day and as a result all the aches and pains he’d suffered had now vanished, leaving him fully rejuvenated.

While his body was in perfect shape, his mind was a mess.

Why the hell did I help bring her home?

No matter how he thought about it, none of it made sense. He had an incredibly powerful vampire lord with an Elder Scroll in the weakest, most vulnerable position they’d ever be in. He could’ve driven Dawnbreaker through her heart, taken the scroll and retreated back to Fort Dawnguard with his pride intact and the upper hand over the damned beasts. Instead he decided to go on a field trip with one of the most dangerous beings in all of Skyrim, and he’d almost gotten himself killed for his efforts.

Maybe Isran can make some sense of this, he thought.

___

“You did what?!” yelled Isran, his voice booming through the stone halls of Fort Dawnguard. Various soldiers scattered away from his general direction after he spoke. Even Arven flinched.

“Like I said, I- “

“I know what you said, I just didn’t think you to be a damned fool!” Isran bellowed. He held his head in his hand, muttering to himself as he thought over the brief summary Arven had given him.

“Look, I’m just as frustrated as you are! Every time I look back, I just think I should’ve driven my sword through its heart, but I didn’t and I have no idea why.”

“It’s because she seduced you, boy.” Isran said. He was almost remorseful in his tone.

“What? No, that’s impossible,” Arven replied, shaking his head.

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is! I’ve trained to resist that kind of thing; I’ve got wards against it! I know how vampires work and I’ve done everything I can think of to make myself immune.”

“Come on boy, you’re smarter than this.”

Arven paused. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve trained against basic vampires. Fledglings, diseased weaklings who hide in caves and hunt in packs. Beasts who are nothing more than slaves to the blood. Dangerous, but mostly stupid,” Isran said. As he spoke, Arven was silent.

“You said her father was different. Stronger. How?”

“He could, well… transform.”

“What?”

“He turned into something… I don’t know what exactly. His skin turned grey, he had a demonic, bat-like face and he grew a pair of wings. I don’t know how strong he was, but after he turned, I could feel his power in the air. All the other vampires looked as terrified as I was,” said Arven. It wasn’t the most pleasant memory to recall.

Isran let out a long, tired sigh and sat down on a crate nearby. He ran his hands over his head and looked up, through the opening in the roof of the fort where the sun shone through. “This isn’t good.”

“You’re telling me,” Arven replied.

“That’s a Vampire Lord. From what I know, most vampires are born through the spread of a disease. A plague. Vampire Lords are created by Molag Bal himself,” Isran said.

“For some reason that doesn’t surprise me. So what, people can just go to a Daedric lord and ask to become that thing?”

“I don’t know the specifics; don’t think I want to know. But they’re ancient and they’re strong. Did you know old this woman was?”

Arven shrugged. “She was around before the empire, at least.”

“Shit. Alright, think about it for a second. You’re what, 20?”

“22.”

“Right. She’s probably lived your life 50 times over, getting stronger the entire time. Do you really think some wards and a bit of training will make you immune to her magics?”

Arven started to grind his teeth. He knew Isran was right, he just didn’t want to admit it. The idea that he was tricked, that he was used by Serana infuriated him. It made him hate her more than he already did.

“Dammit. Gods, DAMMIT!” Lashing out, Arven kicked the closest thing to him. A bucket ended up flying across the room, shattering against the wall into a thousand different splinters. Above all else, he was incredibly disappointed in himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself boy, no one would’ve been able to resist a vampire that strong. It’s a damn miracle you’re still alive at all,” Isran said.

“So, now what. What do we do? They’ve got a fucking Elder Scroll.”

Isran stood up, cracking various joints as he stretched. “We just going to need some help. And I need to teach you some proper restoration magic.”

___

A few days later, Arven found himself travelling back to Fort Dawnguard with two new additions. The first was a hunter by the name of Gunmar, a Nord who lost his family to vampires and claims to hate them almost as much as Isran does. Arven found him easy enough to get along with, and tales of previous vampire-slaying events made the travelling much easier on them both.

The second was a Breton by the name of Sorine. At first Arven thought she was fairly cute, but that opinion was overwhelmed by the fact that she was rather… quirky. She was kind though, and more than happy to come along after Arven spent all of 10 seconds finding a satchel she had supposedly lost to some mudcrabs. Arven still didn’t know how that worked, exactly.

“So, do you think Isran will be happy to see us?” asked Sorine as the trio entered Dayspring Pass.

“Happy? Hah!” Gunmar let out a bark of a laugh as he shook his head. “No chance. I’d bet you 20 septims the first thing he does is yell at us and demand we prove that we aren’t vampires.”

Arven had to agree with Gunmar, but he felt a little bad as Sorine’s expression soured.

“Surely he’d be at least a little happy. At the very least he’d better apologise for the things he said to me when I last saw him!” Sorine said.

“The day Isran apologises is the day I become a vampire sympathiser,” replied Gunmar.

Arven chuckled softly at that. By the time the walls of Fort Dawnguard had come into view the sun had set and moonlight was illuminating the pass. Despite the hour men still guarded the palisade walls, torches alight throughout the canyon to provide as much light and visibility as possible on the approach up towards the fort.

 Every time Arven approached the fort, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer scale of it. He was surprised that such a large structure was abandoned for so long. Surely bandits, or at least someone would’ve squatted there, he thought.

Approaching the palisade, the trio came up behind a group of 5 travellers, all rugged up in warm clothing and hoods as they argued with the men on the walls.

“Please, you have to let us in!” One of them called, a woman at the head of the group.

“We’re sorry. You can camp out here but we cannot let you in until the sun rises,” one of the guards said. Arven rolled his eyes, realising that Isran probably made that rule to try and stop vampires from trying to get in at night. The man was cautious, if nothing else.

“But we’re tired, and starved! Our caravan got attacked by vampires, please, we just want a warm place to stay for the night,” said another member of the group.

“Should we just let them in?” Sorine asked in a whisper, looking to both Arven and Gunmar. She seemed worried about the group, and rightfully so. Their clothing was ragged and damaged, and one of the travellers was limping heavily to one side.

“Isran will kill you if you do,” Gunmar replied, although his voice sounded sympathetic.

“If Isran is worried that they’re vampires, I’ll just heal them. That should be proof enough,” Arven said to the two behind him.

“Good idea! I wonder why Isran doesn’t do that,” Sorine replied.

“Probably doesn’t have any priests. They’re all too busy cleaning up after the war,” said Gunmar. He was right, any skilled healer had been poached long ago to help the Imperials with their clean-up efforts after the civil war had ended.

Having decided Arven stepped forward, taking off his helmet to appear slightly less threatening. “Friends, I can help. I- “

As soon as the travellers turned around, Arven’s stomach turned. When they all stared at him he felt a shiver run down his spine as they all seemed different. Wrong. On instinct Arven focused on the amulet around his neck, trying to clear his mind as the amulet’s warding magic removed the illusion of the travellers. All their eyes were a glowing, deep red in the light of the moon.

Upon seeing Arven, they all reacted in an instant. “That’s him!” One of them hissed, and all of them charged.

“Vampires!” Arven yelled at the top of his lungs as he drew his sword just in time. The first vampire had flung himself at the Dragonborn after drawing out a dagger from his robe, mouth open and teeth bared. Taking half a step back Arven planted his feet and drew Dawnbreaker from its sheath to slash at the vampire in a diagonal sweep. The blade sliced through and seared vampire flesh, severing the top half of its torso from the rest of its body as the beast ended up lying on the floor behind Arven in two halves.

Even with one down, he still had four charging at him with murder in their eyes. The men on the palisade were stunned for a moment before reacting, loading their crossbows while their hands fumbled awkwardly with the mechanisms. Thankfully, Sorine and Gunmar were quicker to react. Sorine had taken her own crossbow, a unique invention with various modifications, off of her back. While she seemed aloof, she was almost as prepared and paranoid as Isran at times with her crossbow being continually loaded and ready to fire.

In one quick motion she’d aimed and fired her crossbow, a bolt slamming into the ribs of one of the vampires charging. The beast faltered and fell to the floor, supporting itself on one hand as it gasped from shock.

Just as Sorine was quick, so was Gunmar. The Nord unsheathed his axe and swung it at another vampire, slamming it down through the collarbone of the one closest to him. The vampire screamed out in pain but quickly caught onto Gunmar’s hand, wrestling with the man despite the serious wound.

With two occupied Arven was left with two more charging at him. It was only a second after he’d killed the first that the next was on him, and he wasn’t prepared. As the Dragonborn raised an arm to ward it off the first vampire latched on, teeth sinking into the leather padding. Arven felt the fangs sink into his flesh as the warmth of his blood was sucked out shortly after. He went to bring the pommel of his sword down on the head of the woman sucking on his blood, but the second vampire slashed at him with an elven blade.

Tilting Dawnbreaker to the side he parried the blade coming at his exposed face, raising a leg to kick the second vampire in the chest. After knocking it away Arven then went to bash the face of the one that had latched onto him, but was stopped as he felt something sink into his ribs. Letting out a scream through clenched teeth as the vampire that was sucking on his blood jammed a dagger up into his torso, the Dragonborn took half a step back while shaking his arm in a feeble attempt to shake the damned thing loose.

By now the men on the palisade walls had prepared their crossbows and both took aim. One of the bolts missed but the other, thankfully, slammed into the back of the vampire that had a grip on Arven. As it shrieked in response Arven backhanded it with the hand of the arm that had been pierced before using Dawnbreaker to parry another blow from the sword of the other attacker.

“Alright, fuck you both,” Arven said under his breath. Crouching down with his blade raised, his other hand grasping onto the hilt of the dagger still sticking out of his ribs, he then clenched every muscle in his body.

“Wuld!”

A blink on an eye later Arven had dashed forward, now standing in between both vampires. Each of them now had a blade protruding from their chest. The one who’d been struck by Dawnbreaker fell to the floor as his flesh burned, while the one with a dagger now sticking from its sternum turned with a rage-fuelled shriek and lashed out at Arven once more.

In response, the Dragonborn punched the vampire in the face. With a satisfying crunch his gauntlet-covered hand broke bones in the beast’s face and after knocking it onto it’s back, Arven crouched down above it and placed his hand on the forehead of the vampire. Then, channelling healing magic into his palm the restoration magic burnt the skin of the undead, leaving it in horrific pain for the few seconds before it died, its eyes having burnt out as Arven put more and more magicka into the spell.

Standing up, Arven was relieved to see that both Gunmar and Sorine were fine, each with another corpse by their feet. Neither of them seemed to notice his shout just before, which was a relief.

“Are you three alright!?” Called a voice from the palisade.

“I just got fucking stabbed and bitten,” replied Arven.

There was silence for a moment after that.

“So, no?” came the reply from the guard.

Arven just sighed. Drawing Dawnbreaker from the corpse it was buried in, he sheathed it and placed his hand on the wound in his ribs. Shortly after a soft golden glow emanated form his hand, and he let out a sigh of relief as the flesh began stitching itself back together.

“Are you okay, friend?” Asked Sorine as she stepped up beside Arven, a clearly worried look on her face.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I could just use a hot meal, now,” Arven said. He then received a clap on the shoulder from Gunmar.

“That was pretty damned impressive, you know. I can see why Isran keeps you around!” Said the Nord.

“You call getting stabbed and bitten impressive?”

“I call only getting stabbed and bitten after killing three vampires impressive, yes!”

Arven let out a soft chuckle before stepping up to the gates.

“If you don’t let us in, I’m going to bloody kill you,” he called up to the guards.

___

A few minutes later, with his armour being tended to by some other Dawnguard members and with bandages wrapped around his ribs, Arven stepped back into the fort followed by Sorine and Gunmar.

“Hold it right there,” said Isran as he looked down on the trio, standing up on a ledge on the floor above them.

“What are you doing, Isran?” Asked Sorine.

“Making sure you’re not vampires. Can’t be too careful.”

Sorine and Gunmar sighed, but complied. They seemed as if they were used to this sort of thing. Gunmar leaned over to Sorine, whispering in her ear. “You owe me 20 septims.”

After a cleansing light had bathed over the three standing on the bottom floor, Isran let out a satisfied grunt.

“So, welcome to Fort Dawnguard. I’m sure you’ve heard a bit of what we’re up against. Powerful vampires, unlike anything we’ve seen before. And they have an Elder Scroll.” Isran said.

“They have a what?” asked Gunmar, a shocked look on his face.

“What, our friend didn’t tell you?” Isran replied.

Arven just shrugged. “Didn’t need to, just mentioned vampires,” he said.

“Well, yes. They have an Elder Scroll,” Isran continued. “So if anyone is going to stand in their way, it’s going to be us.”

“This is all well and good, but do we actually know anything about what they’re doing? What do we do now?” Sorine asked.

“We’ll get to that. For now, get acquainted with the space. Sorine, you’ll find room to start your tinkering on that crossbow design you’ve been working on. Gunmar, there’s an area large enough for you to pen up some trolls, get them armoured up and ready for use.”

Armoured what now?

Arven shook his head, clearing the thoughts of riding into battle with an army of trolls at his side. He noticed Isran was staring right at him.

“In the meantime, we’re going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you. Let’s go have a little chat with it, shall we?”

Arven’s blood boiled.

Oh, she’s going to regret this.

___

The second Arven saw Serana he drew Dawnbreaker from its sheath, ignoring the pain in his side as he levelled the blade directly at her face.

“Woah, okay. Does every meeting we have need to start with you shoving your sword in my face?” Serana asked, her hands raised up by her head as if surrendering.

“You tricked me.”

“Say what now?”

“You seduced me. Tricked me into taking you back to your home, and you almost got me killed,” Arven said, his words coming out through gritted teeth.

“I just calmed you down so you didn’t stab me, that’s all! And I didn’t mean for that to happen back home, okay? I thought father would let you leave peacefully, I promise.” As she spoke, Serana looked Arven directly in the eyes. Her face seemed sincere, but he knew better than to trust her.

“And how do I know you’re not trying to cloud my mind right this second?”

“She can’t trick you while she’s in here, boy.” Isran said, breaking Serana and Arven out of their private conversation.

“What?” Arven replied.

“This place is enchanted. This thing can probably feel it right now. Fort Dawnguard was built for a specific purpose, in more ways than one.” Isran continued.

“He’s right,” Serana said. “This place is really uncomfortable for me. And not just because of the beautiful décor. Can we just talk, without your sword in my face?”

Arven hesitated, but eventually he let his sword down. He still wasn’t comfortable with Serana’s presence by a long shot, but he also had to understand that she took an immense risk by visiting him.

Can’t hurt to hear her out, then, he thought.

“Wait, what happened to you?” Serana asked as she looked over Arven’s torso, the bandages covering most of his otherwise bare upper body.

“You weren’t the only vampire to come here tonight,” Arven replied.

“Wait, really?” Serana asked. She seemed genuinely shocked. “What were they doing there?”

“If I had to take a guess, probably looking for that.” Isran said, pointing at the Elder Scroll that was sitting on Serana’s back. Arven hadn’t even noticed that yet. He was too fixated on trying to calm himself.

Serana cursed under her breath. She didn’t acknowledge Isran, instead continuing to look at Arven. “Look, I’m sorry for putting you in danger… again. I just really need to talk to you.”

“Well, we’re talking. What are you doing here?” Arven asked.

As the two talked Isran stood off to one side. He sat down on a crate after drawing his huge, two-handed hammer. The head of the hammer came to rest on the ground, an intricately carved piece of silver that let out a soft glow in the same manner that Dawnbreaker’s blade did, just to a lesser extent.

“I’d rather not be here, but this is important, so please just listen before your friend, here, loses his patience,” Serana said. Her face looked serious, and even a little bit desperate.

She’s a hell of an actor, Arven thought.

“It’s… well, it’s about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me.”

“What about you?”

“The reason I was down there… and why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes back to my father.”

“Nice guy, really.” Arven said. A soft, small smile came to Serana’s lips after he said that.

“Yeah, he’s not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn’t always like that, though. There was… a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it.” Serana said. As she spoke, she folded her arms across her torso, almost hugging herself.

“What sort of prophecy?” Arven asked.

“It’s pointless and vague, like all prophecies. The part he latched onto said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. That’s what he’s after. He wants to control the sun, have vampires control the world.”

Arven and Isran shared a look, both of them feeling somewhat disturbed by the idea of the sun no longer being a threat to vampires.

Serana continued. “Anyway, my mother and I didn’t feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That’s why I was sealed away with the Scroll.”

Arven sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You took a serious risk coming here, just to tell us this,” he said.

“I did. But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I’m not wrong.” Serana said. She looked hopeful as she said that, and Arven just felt dumbfounded.

“You know I’m a vampire hunter, right? I kill vampires. It’s what I do.” Arven said. “I’m pretty damn good at it, as well.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I’m the person you trust the most to come to for help?” Arven asked. This all sounded incredibly ridiculous to him. He almost felt like laughing.

Serana didn’t say anything in response, simply looking down at the floor between them as she nodded.

“Wait… seriously?” Arven said.

“Yeah,” Serana replied.

The Dragonborn felt a soft pang in his heart.

“You know I can’t trust you. You’re a vampire.”

“Oh, come on, I’m more than just a vampire, you know!” Serana said, her voice rising slightly in anger. She took a step towards Arven and he immediately flinched, taking an equal step back as his hand tightened around Dawnbreaker.

“I risked my life coming here because I need your help to stop my crazy father from trying to enslave the rest of the world,” Serana continued. “If I was trying to trick you, or fool you or anything else, why would I come here? I know you hate me but think about it for one fucking second! If I wasn’t telling the truth there’s absolutely zero reason for me to risk my ass by walking into this damn fort.”

Arven closed his eyes. This is a fucking mess, he thought. The worst part of it all was that what Serana said made sense.

The Dragonborn looked over to Isran. The older warrior looked back, shaking his head.

“What do you think?” Arven asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe it has a death wish, Maybe it’s just insane. I don’t really care,” Isran replied.

“What she said makes sense, as much as I hate to admit it. If the vampires have a way to block out the sun, we’re in a lot more trouble than we think.”

Isran grumbled. “Are you saying you trust her?”

Serana looked at Arven, hopeful.

“No,” he said. “But I believe what she just told us. She brought us the Scroll, that counts for something.”

Serana let out a sigh, her shoulders slightly hunching over as a wave of relief washed over her.

“You better know what you’re doing.” Isran said.

“I ensure you that I don’t.”

“Remind me again why I let you join the Dawnguard?”

After watching the brief conversation, Serana interjected, her voice slightly more upbeat than before. “Does that mean you’ll help me?” She asked.

“It can stay for now,” Isran said to Arven. “If it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I’ll hold you responsible, got it?” He then turned to Serana. “You hear me? Don’t feel like a guest, because you’re not. You’re a resource. You’re an asset. In the meantime, don’t make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it.”

Serana just smiled, folding her arms across her chest. “Thank you for your kindness, I’ll remember it the next time I’m feeling hungry.” As she said that she immediately regretted it, both men glaring at her. “Jeez, touchy.”

She then turned back to Arven, her expression lightening just a little. “Well, since my father cared so much about this Scroll on my back, no doubt it has something that can help us.”

“Is there a special vampire perk that lets you read those things?” Arven asked. “If not, I’m really not sure what we can do with it.”

Serana shook her head. “No such luck. We’d need a Moth Priest, most likely. They spend years preparing before they even start reading, though, and they’re all half a continent away in Cyrodiil.”

Isran spoke up, the man leaning forward on his hammer. “Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago. I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that’s your moth priest.”

“Do you know where he’s staying now?” Serana asked.

“No, and I’m not going to waste men looking. We’re fighting a war against your kind, and I intend to win it.” Isran then turned to Arven. “Why should I even endorse all of this? You’re a good fighter. You’ve got an even better weapon. You should be out there killing these beasts, not running around the place with one.”

“Trust me, I’d rather be out there as well,” Arven said. “But… we can’t ignore this. Someone needs to look into it.”

“And what happens when this thing ends up killing you and leaving you in a ditch?” Isran demanded.

“Either way I’m out there fighting vampires, just as good of a chance that I end up dead whether I’m with her or not. This is more important than killing a few fledglings, as you called them.”

Isran murmured to himself. He knew Arven was right, he just hated the idea of cooperating with a vampire.

“If you want to find this priest, try talking to anyone who’d meet a traveller. Innkeepers and carriage drivers in the big cities maybe. But you’re on your own.” After saying that Isran stood up, collecting his hammer and throwing it over his shoulder. He walked out of the room, leaving the two behind him without another glance.

“Don’t die, boy.”

After he left, an awkward silence fell over Serana and Arven. He felt frustrated, annoyed. Serana almost seemed hopeful.

“So…,” she asked. “Where do you wanna start?”

Chapter 4: Observations

Uncomfortable silences were slowly but surely becoming a staple in Arven’s life. He’d been walking with Serana in the moonlight towards riften for half an hour, with each of them being able to count the amount of words exchanged on both their hands. The distance from the fort to Riften was short, thankfully, so they’d soon have something to do besides walk in silence.

Despite that, Serana figured it couldn’t hurt to try and get some conversation going.

“So,” she said. “You can breathe fire. That’s, kind of cool.”

Aren let out a soft sigh. Out of everything to talk about, this was pretty far down on the list.

“Yeah, I guess I can,” he said.

“How? Is that some kind of destruction magic?” Serana seemed oddly perky as she spoke, as if the topic was exciting for her.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Well… how do you do it?”

Arven shrugged. “I shout.”

Serana blinked a few times, shaking her head. “Pardon?”

“I shout. I yell some words, and things happen. That’s honestly the extent of my knowledge of how it works.”

“Right. And you can do this because you’ve got the blood of a dragon, correct?”

Arven hung his head. This conversation just gets better and better, he thought.

“Yeah,” he grumbled out as a reply.

“You know, I’m pretty sure any normal person would be thrilled to have that sort of power,” Serana said.

“It isn’t as great as you’d think.”

“Really? It seemed pretty damn great when you scared off a group of ancient vampires with it,” Serana said. As she spoke she was almost staring at Arven, trying to study him despite the helmet he had on. She did notice his heartrate rising as the topic of dragons came up, though.

“It has its uses, sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Some of those vampires have been calling for your head, even though now they’re too scared to leave the damn island.”

Arven let out a small chuckle. He was glad that he’d made an impression.

“Why are you so hesitant to talk about it, or even use it though?” Serana asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time!”

Arven didn’t reply for almost a minute after that. Serana decided to drop the topic, she didn’t want to ruin a trip before it even had a chance to get started. After the silence had grown uncomfortable once more however, Arven stopped in his tracks.

Serana took a few more steps after before she stopped as well, turning back to look at the Imperial.

“Arven, you okay?”

Arven dropped his shield to the floor, the metal leaving an imprint in the snow shortly before he unclasped his belt and let Dawnbreaker come to rest on the ground. Then, he started working at the buckles on his side that kept his breastplate on.

Serana stepped back. “Uhh, what are you doing?”

Arven didn’t respond, he just continued to remove his armour. It was a lengthy process but after a minute or so he let his breastplate and the leather padding along with it fall to the floor.

“No, seriously. You can keep your clothes on, this is really uncomfortable,” Serana said.

“Payback for you making terrible conversation,” Arven replied. He finally got to the bandages that were wrapped around his torso. They were hiding essentially everything from his upper chest to his hips, with one shoulder bare. He went to work unravelling them.

“Very funny. Seriously, you only got hurt a little while ago. Don’t you need those?” Serana asked.

“I recover pretty fast.” Finally, he let the bandages fall to the floor. He then illuminated his hand with some restoration magic and held it near his torso, showing off a plethora of long, jagged and very pronounced scars. Many were in the shape of teeth all across his torso, most dwarfing the most recent one caused by the dagger in his ribs.

Serana’s jaw dropped and for the moment she had absolutely nothing to say. After she’d seen all of the damage to Arven’s front half, he turned around to show more puncture marks along with three long, jagged scars running down his entire back. When she saw that Serana took half a step back, although from curiosity and just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her, she reached out to touch them. Arven didn’t pull back.

Her fingers gently ran over the three long scars, giving them the softest touch imaginable.

“What did this?” She asked.

“Dragons. That was one of the first I fought, I was running away and it slashed at me. Tore up my back before biting my leg and flinging me across the ground.” Arven said.

“And you didn’t die?”

“Like I said, I recover pretty fast. I think the blood makes me more resilient than normal.” After Serana had a good look Arven started to place his armour on once more. “Doesn’t do anything to help the pain, though,” he continued.

Arven waited for a response as he put on his armour, although none came. All Serana could muster was a mumbled apology, although she seemed more confused than ever.

“Dragons are the only thing I hate as much as vampires. They’re just as merciless. They burn villages, kill for pleasure, take whatever they believe to be theirs. Unlike being a vampire hunter though, I didn’t choose to be Dragonborn,” Arven said. “I hate vampires, but I don’t mind fighting them. Dragons on the other hand absolutely terrify me, and the only way I’ve been able to beat them is through using their own power. Not to mention, when they find out that I’ve got their blood, they take that as an insult to their race and try to purge me.”

Eventually he had picked up his shield, throwing it onto his back before buckling Dawnbreaker around his waist once more. “Every time I use their power, I’m reminded of every time I’ve fought a dragon. I don’t like to use it unless I have to. And when people find out that I am the Dragonborn, it just brings everything flooding back. Then they get angry when I don’t share in their enthusiasm.”

Fully dressed again, Arven started to walk leaving a dumbfounded Serana behind him. She quickly caught up.

“Does that answer your questions?” Arven asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Serana replied. She sounded genuine, and didn’t push the topic anymore. Arven appreciated that. She was the first person to leave him alone once he’d explained it. Most people tried to convince him otherwise, or call him a fool.

“Just give me some warning next time you decide to strip in front of me, would you?” Serana asked, her lips curling up into a playful smile.

“Next time?”

Serana shrugged. “Hey, I don’t know your motives. I’m just a single woman out travelling with a stranger, a girl has to look out for herself you know?”

“Oh please, you’re likely the most dangerous thing on this half of the province. I’m the one that’s going to be on edge this entire trip.”

Serana smiled. “You don’t have to be on the lookout all the time. I can tell you if anyone’s getting close,” she said.

“Sure. Doesn’t help protect me from you, though,’ Arven said. Serana’s mood instantly dropped after hearing that.

“You still don’t trust me, do you?”

“Do you still have fangs?”

“Why do you hate all vampires so much?” Serana asked. “I haven’t hurt you, haven’t tried to hurt you, or do anything against you since we’ve met, but you’re acting like I’m a threat to you.”

“You are, simple.”

“I’m not! I have no ill wishes against you, except that I want to smack you across the face to knock some sense into you!”

Arven looked away. “I think that’s enough personal talk for one night, don’t you?”

Serana just sighed, defeated. “Whatever.”

Arven felt a twinge of guilt as he noticed Serana’s expression, but he didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t trust her, that was a stupid risk that had next to no benefits. Besides, at least this way there’d be less awkward conversations for him to deal with.

After cresting the nearest hill, the lights of Riften finally became visible in the distance. The two continued walking towards the city, following the main stone path that connected Riften to the East. There was a chance of brigands, following the main road, but Arven highly doubted that any could pose a serious threat to him or Serana.

While the walk was silent, their surroundings gave Arven plenty to admire to pass the time. He’d always marvelled at the natural beauty of Skyrim and the aspen trees surrounding Riften never ceased to amaze him. He barely even noticed the cold, partially due to his dragon blood and partially due to him simply being distracted by his surroundings. Strangely, the sound of nature and water running down a stream was one of the few things that could always calm him.

By the time they reached the city, the sun was barely starting to crest over the mountains, much to Serana’s dismay as she put up her hood.

“Are you sure this person will be at the gates of Riften? It’s really, really early,” Serana asked.

Arven nodded. “He’s always been there. The guy is dedicated, if nothing else.”

Arven was right. Near the stables a carriage was patiently waiting, the man sitting at the front idly picking his teeth while his horse munched on whatever grass was within reach. Arven approached the man from the front, not wanting to startle him.

“Morning,” Arven said.

“Morning, need a lift?” The man replied. Straight to the point, as usual.

“No, actually. I was just wondering if you’ve seen or heard of a priest from Cyrodiil travelling around here. Calls himself a Moth Priest?” As Arven spoke Serana stood off to one side, resting against a tree roughly 5 metres away.

“Now why would I know anythin’ about that?”

Arven shrugged. “You travel a lot; you probably see a lot. I’ve got better chances asking you than anyone at random.”

The worker paused for a moment, scratching his chin. “Might be that I have, but I can’t say for sure. I got enough troubles on my mind just tryin’ to scrape by out here.”

Arven grumbled softly to himself. “Please, it’s very important that I find him.”

“Can’t help you friend. I might remember better if my pockets weren’t so light.”

Gods dammit, Arven thought. He reached into his gold purse strapped to his belt, fumbling around for a suitable amount of coin to bribe the man with. Before he could pull any out, Serana stepped up.

She pulled her hood back just enough to reveal her face, but not enough so that the sun could shine on her skin. “Please? We really need to know where this man is,” she said, her voice sounding much softer than usual.

The man gawked for a moment before he tried to speak, stumbling over his words repeatedly until he cleared his throat. His face was bright red. “N-now that I think on it, I did see your priest. He tried to hire me for a trip to Dragon Bridge, but that ain’t one of my stops.”

“Wait, you don’t go to Dragon Bridge? That’s directly on the way to Solitude,” Arven said.

“Aye, and I don’t go there either. Last time I went to Solitude I had Imperial Soldiers impose a toll on me. Damned near took all the gold I had!”

Sure, ‘Imperial Soldiers’, Arven thought. He’d heard of people disguising themselves as soldiers before to try and profit on the war.

“Can you take us to Rorikstead?” Arven asked.

The man paused for a moment before nodding. “Aye, I can do that. Hop in back and we’ll be off.”

Arven nodded his thanks, then went to the back of the carriage with Serana. Before they climbed up he caught Serana by the arm, pulling her aside to look her in the eye.

“Did you just use magic on him? An innocent?” Arven asked in a low, yet harsh whisper.

Serana rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t. I knew you’d get all bothered and angry if I did. I just asked him nicely with a smile. See?” Demonstrating her point, Serana gave Arven a stunningly beautiful smile. He knew it was staged but that didn’t diminish the effect at all. He found himself completely lost for words, her eyes, even though they were yellow, they were stunning. He realised that he’d never seen a woman as strikingly gorgeous as Serana was, especially when she smiled, and he didn’t want to look away.

Arven didn’t realise it, but his mouth was hanging open slightly. Serana finally decided to break him out of his trance, flicking him on his helmet.

“Quit staring. Let’s go.”

“…Yeah, sure.”

___

The following day was mostly uneventful. The trip from one side of Skyrim to the other (a trip that was getting far too familiar, Arven noted) was a long one, even by carriage. During the trip Serana mostly talked with the carriage driver, quizzing him about his life, seemingly finding amusement in the small differences of society between her former time and the present.

They stopped on occasion for a break, or to drink or eat. Once again, Arven rarely spoke, only responding to any questions asked directly of him. At one point the carriage driver asked Serana if there was something wrong with Arven. The Imperial had frowned beneath his helmet while Serana just chuckled. By the time the sun was just starting to set with the clouds becoming a soft orange/pink colour in the light of the late afternoon, Whiterun was approaching. The trip was long, but at the very least a carriage in clear weather was a much more comfortable experience than walking in a blizzard.

“Seems like as good a place as any to stay for the night,” the driver said. “Are you both comfortable finding a place to stay in Whiterun?”

Serana looked to Arven, who nodded. “We’ll be fine. Meet you in the morning, at dawn,” Arven said. As he hopped off the carriage, he handed over a generous sum of gold to the driver, covering the cost of both days. With the way he looked at Serana, he didn’t have to worry about him not being there the following day.

The pair approached the gates, walking up the incline towards the entrance. Many of the guards nodded to Arven as they passed, recognising him despite his armour and helmet.

“I’m assuming you know of a decent inn, or something of the sorts?” Serana asked.

“Actually, I live here,” Arven replied.

Serana seemed surprised.

“What?” Arven asked, noticing her expression.

“Oh, nothing. It just seems awfully… normal, to own a home in a city. Figured you to be the ‘always on the road’ type,” Serana said.

“I am. This house was… gifted.”

“Someone gave you a house? Why?”

Arven didn’t respond, instead walking up to the two guards at the gate. Each braced up as he approached, nodding their respect.

“Good evening Thane, it’s good to see you again,” one of the guards said.

“Evening Erik. I trust you and the family are well?” Arven said.

“That we are Thane, even more so now that the city is back under your protection.”

Arven smiled gently. “Only for the night I’m afraid, but I appreciate that.”

The guard let out a short bark of a laugh. “One night is better than none! Enjoy your evening, and safe travels for the morning my Thane.”

Arven and Serana both entered the city, walking towards Breezehome. The building had been gifted to Arven after assisting the city in both repelling the Stormcloaks, as well as various dragon attacks. It was a nice gesture, however it was one of the few places where Arven found it near impossible to hide his Dragonborn status. That alone made him have a strong dislike of the place.

Once they were out of earshot, Serana stepped up to Arven.

“You’re a thane?” She asked.

“That I am.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises. So if you’re staying at home, any suggestions on where I can spend the night?”

“I have a spare bed.”

Serana paused for a moment, slightly shocked. “I’m honestly surprised you’d be comfortable with me staying in the same house as you while you slept. I’m assuming you’re actually going to sleep, this time.”

“I am. I’d rather know where you are than have you roaming the city.”

“Right, of course. Sure. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Are you going to sleep?” Arven asked. It was something he never really figured out. He’d seen vampires sleep, but he’d also heard that they don’t need sleep. Now was as good of a time as any to figure that out.

“Maybe. I’m not really tired, so there’s no need,” Serana responded.

“Okay, how does that actually work? Do you need to sleep, at all? Is it just a way to pass time for you?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions?”

Arven grunted. “Alright, nevermind.”

“No, it’s fine,” Serana responded. “We don’t need to sleep, no. It does refresh us if we’re especially exhausted, though. After a fight or a physically demanding day, it can be nice. If I’m just lazing around though, there’s really no need.”

Makes sense, Arven thought.

“So, what will you do all night?”

“Read, maybe? Got any books?”

“A few.”

After arriving at Breezehome Arven knocked twice before entering. Serana raised an eyebrow at that, unsure as to why he was knocking on his own door.

“You’re not going to surprise me even further with a family or something, are you?” She asked.

“I’m not exactly marriage material.”

“I’ve noticed. That’s why it’d be a surprise.”

Arven chose to ignore that. He did smile upon seeing a familiar face when he entered the building, though.

“My thane!” A surprised voice said. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Hello, Lydia,” Arven responded. He took off his helm as soon as he entered, placing it down on a nearby table.

“It’s been quite a while. Just staying for the night?”

Arven nodded. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

“How could you possibly intrude on your own home?”

Arven let a tired smile come to his face. Serana followed in behind him, the woman scanning the house out of sheer curiosity. The house was furnished, but it was bare at the same time. There wasn’t a single personal touch that she could see. No decorations, trinkets, items, anything. Everything she saw had a purpose and was particularly bland in colour.

“Lydia, this is Serana. She’s… helping me out with a few things,” Arven said in a brief introduction.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” Lydia said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Serana responded as she studied the other woman. Lydia was in full armour, well-crafted steel with a shield on her back and a fine, long blade strapped to her side. It seemed like an ebony blade, something which even Serana knew was worth a considerable sum. At the very least, the woman seemed like she could handle herself.

Serana stepped up to Arven, whispering in his ear. “I like her, she called me a lady.”

“Do you have to get to close?” Arven responded, stepping away.

“Sheesh, touchy. So, where am I staying?”

“I’ll show you to your room, my lady,” Lydia said.

“Thanks, Lydia. I’ll see you in the morning Serana,” Arven said as he began to climb the stairs.

“Turning in already? You know it’s barely even night time.”

Arven nodded. “Yeah, I’m just exhausted.”

You did get stabbed fairly recently, Serana thought.

Lydia promptly showed Serana to her room, a spacious and comfortable enough place which had the same sort of décor as the rest of the house. There were at least a few books on different topics, most of them either relating to a practical skill or legends of the Dragonborn. There was one book that stood out, being much more worn than the rest. As Serana sat down on the bed she picked it out, flicking through the pages.

It seemed to be a typical hero fantasy told to children. A strong warrior protecting the town from various monsters and invaders. On the first page, a hand-written note was scrawled onto the paper.

                To my Hero,

Know that I am proud of you, that I am proud to be your mother and that my love for you will never run out. You are the brightest thing I have ever brought into the world, and I will care for you always.

Love, your Mother

Serana couldn’t help but smile gently as she read the note. It was hard to imagine the Imperial upstairs as a child, let alone a child resting in the arms of their mother. It made Serana think back to her own mother, a somber moment falling upon her. She went to place the book back, but the faint sound of conversation upstairs reached her sensitive ears.

“I hate to ask you to do this, Lydia,” Arven said.

“It’s quite alright my thane. If I may, can I ask why?” Lydia responded.

“I just… I’d feel much safer knowing you were still awake tonight. I haven’t had the best week recently, that’s all.”

So that’s why he’s fine with me staying here, Serana realised. She clenched her fist, nails digging into her skin out of sheer frustration.

Damn him.

Notes:

Hey again! A shorter chapter this time, just some character development. The next chapter will be much longer with a lot more action in it! Hope you're all enjoying it so far, and once again a huge thank-you to everyone who comments and leaves kudos! It's incredibly motivating knowing that some people are enjoying what I've got to write.

Chapter 5: Slayer

Arven never slept well, and last night wasn’t an exception. He did manage to get at least a few solid hours, primarily thanks to Lydia, however there was no way he’d be able to relax considering his current circumstances. After waking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes he exited his room, his hand extended in front of him as it gently radiated a white light to give him some vision.

When he exited his room, he instantly saw Lydia. She was wide awake, reclining on a chair with a book in her hands. She looked up with a gentle smile as Arven approached.

“Good morning, my thane. Did you sleep well?” She asked.

“As well as I normally do, I suppose,” Arven responded as he rotated a shoulder, a solid crack coming from the joint.

“Your… travelling companion? Is already awake. I believe she’s waiting out the front for you,” Lydia continued.

Arven nodded, that sounded about right. Looking outside it was still night time. He couldn’t tell how close it was until dawn.

“Thanks Lydia. I appreciate your help,” Arven said. Lydia simply nodded in reply. After splashing some water on his face and loading up a small sack of food for the day, Arven stepped out the front door. The second he did Lydia slumped down in her seat, her façade breaking as she let out a long, tired yawn. A few moments later, she was asleep.

Arven found Serana waiting right outside the front door, resting on one of the wooden poles supporting the house. She had her hood back, arms folded across her chest. Her eyes seemed to be following a rabbit as it cautiously hopped between different houses and vegetation. The moment it saw Arven, it fled.

“You ready to go? The sun’s about to rise,” Arven asked. He was still strapping his gauntlets on as he walked, flexing his fingers in them to ensure a proper fit.

Serana didn’t respond. Instead she just started to walk back to the entrance to Whiterun at a rather quick pace. Arven had to jog for a moment to catch up to her.

I’ll take that as a yes, then, he thought.

Even though the sun was barely starting to come into view over the horizon the carriage driver was there and waiting. It always made Arven feel slightly creeped out, he’d never actually seen any carriage driver doing anything except sit on their carriage. As he walked up Arven swung his food sack up onto the back of the carriage before climbing up himself, Serana following shortly after.

“Morning,” Arven said through a stifled yawn as he settled down.

“Morning. Ready to be off?” The man replied. He seemed fully alert. Arven nodded in response, and a few moments later they were on the road again.

The trip was much, much quieter compared to the previous day. Serana had put her hood up and was mostly just watching the scenery. She didn’t initiate any conversation, and only responded with what was necessary not to be rude when the carriage driver tried to strike up a chat. Arven thought to ask if anything was wrong, but he decided against it.

At least this way he could relax with a clear mind during most of the trip. After roughly an hour the carriage came across Fort Greymoor, an Imperial outpost along the road to Rorikstead. The carriage driver cursed under his breath, clutching his gold purse close.

“You’ll be fine, these men won’t be after your gold,” Arven said to the driver. He’d actually helped the Imperials take the fort earlier, during the civil war. It wasn’t a fond memory, but then again no fight really was. As they approached two Imperial soldiers stood out on the road, one holding up a hand signalling them to stop.

“Hold, friends!” The man called. He was wearing simple Imperial leather with a sword strapped to his waist. After the carriage came to a halt, he approached the driver. “Good morning to you, mind if I ask what you’re doing out this way so early?”

“That’s none of your business, Imperial,” the driver responded in a less-than-agreeable tone.

Not clever, Arven thought. The soldier’s expression darkened upon hearing that reply, his hand coming to rest on the pommel of his blade.

“I only ask due to the reports of bandits in the area as of late. It’s early, and I wouldn’t want innocent citizens to be harmed,” the soldier said. His voice was still calm, but there was a clear indication that he was making an effort to keep it that way.

“Oh? Bandits?” The driver asked. “Or other soldiers like yourself?”

Oh, that’s really not clever.

Before the situation got any worse Arven hopped off the back of the carriage and approached the soldier. He took his helmet off as he did so. The soldier instantly braced up.

“Sir! I didn’t realise that was you, Dragonborn,” the soldier said.

Oh god, why did you say that, Arven thought.

“What, Dragonborn? You’re the Dragonborn?!” The driver said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Sorry for the trouble, we’re just passing through to Rorikstead,” Arven said. He kept a soft smile on his face, but he wanted to clip the soldier over the head.

The soldier nodded, stepping off to the side. “Of course, sir. Please be on your guard though, there have been reports of people going missing recently.”

Well, that’s never good.

As the carriage got moving once more Arven waited for it to catch up, and when alongside it he climbed back on. The second he sat back down the carriage driver turned to him, an expression on his face similar to that of a fascinated child.

“Are you really the Dragonborn? Why didn’t you tell me?” The driver asked. Arven just let out a long, deep sigh. Walking all of a sudden became a seriously viable option. He looked over to Serana, but she was still watching the scenery. She was being worryingly quiet, now that Arven thought about it.

“Can you shout for me?” The driver asked. With the way he was looking at Arven, the Imperial knew that this topic wasn’t going to be dropped anytime soon. Just as he got ready to respond, Serana reached out with a hand and placed it on the forearm of the driver.

A moment later, after a look of confusion, the driver turned back to the road and dropped the subject entirely. Not another word came out of his mouth. Arven blinked a few times in disbelief before he realised what happened. His instinct was to feel anger, he hated seeing anyone be manipulated by a vampire no matter the circumstances.

On second thought, and after seeing the expression on Serana’s face though he decided against it. Instead he just mouthed a silent “thank-you” to the woman.

Serana didn’t respond, but her expression lightened ever so slightly.

A few hours later and Rorikstead was finally in sight. The rest of the trip was just as silent. Arven wasn’t sure how strong the magic Serana used was, but the driver didn’t speak another word. Besides having a short meal Arven was content to simply relax and enjoy the scenery.

“Looks like we’re getting close now. Rorikstead is only a few minutes away,” the driver said.

Arven sat up straight on his seat, stretching his upper half as he looked over to the town. He’d only been there a few times, but he didn’t mind the place. The walk to Dragon Bridge could most likely done in the afternoon as well.

Just as he relaxed back into his seat to enjoy the last few minutes of being off of his feet, his heart-rate spiked in an instant. His breathing increased rapidly, almost to the point of hyperventilating. A cold sweat broke out under his helmet. A second later Serana noticed as she could hear the pounding of his heart. She looked at him with a worried, confused look, but a moment later she understood.

The roar of a dragon echoed throughout the valley. Off in the distance, men and women walking around Rorikstead froze in panic before they came to their senses and scrambled to get indoors. Guards ran for cover as they scanned the sky, bows held at the ready. The driver of the carriage had gone pale and he pulled up, his horse whinnying and trying to pull the carriage away from the source of the noise though it just ended up confused by the repeated echoing.

Serana looked to Arven. He was sitting on the spot, deathly still except for his head which was tracking the beast in the air. He’d seen it a decent distance away as it circled around. For a moment, it looked like it was heading towards Rorikstead but it slowly banked away to once side.

Fly away, fly away, fly away…

Just as the beast seemed like it was going to return to the mountains, it banked once more and headed directly for Rorikstead.

Shit.

All the pent-up energy in his body exploded in an instant. Arven vaulted over the carriage, passing the driver as he began to sprint directly towards the town. It was still a couple kilometres away, but he could close that distance faster than the carriage would.

Serana was stunned for a moment but she quickly followed. She seemed faster than Arven on foot but just as she was about to catch him, he tripled the distance between them in a second.

“Wuld nah kest!”

The warrior jumped forward in a blinding burst of speed. He felt the wind rushing past him with enough force to knock a regular man clean off of their feet, but he powered through as if it was nothing. The dragon was still getting closer to the town at a rate much faster than Arven was though and guards had drawn their bows, all aimed at the monster. Now that he could get a closer look at the thing Arven cursed to himself once more. It was huge, an ancient dragon.

With his shield on his back and sword at his side he held an arm out as magics began to swirl around his extended fingers. A few seconds later a shadowy, ethereal bow had formed in his grasp. Conjuration magic wasn’t a strong-point for him but he knew enough to get by, and after figuring out that fighting dragons was going to be some-what common Arven decided that he’d need a reliable way of fighting the beasts at range.

He watched the first volley of arrows launch towards the dragon from the town. Most missed and the majority of the ones that hit bounced off of its scales. One or two stuck in its wings but none of them did any serious damage.

The beast shouted. Flames erupted from its maw, a line of fiery destruction decimating the ground beneath it as it flew over a house and several guards. Most managed to get out of the way but one or two were caught in the inferno. They flailed for a moment before collapsing to the ground, helmets melted onto their faces.

As soon as he was within range Arven pulled up, planting his feet as he knocked an arrow. The bow he conjured was incredibly tough to draw on purpose. He needed something with enough force to pierce scales. With a grunt he managed to draw the string all the way before letting loose. The conjured arrow shot towards the dragon in the blink of an eye, tearing a patch through its wing before continuing on into the distance.

As soon as the first arrow hit Arven had already let another one loose. This time he was more successful, the barbed arrow head striking the dragon in the chest. The beast roared, a deafening sound cascading over the hills as it looked to the source of its pain.

Come on you scaly fuck, get over here.

Behind him Serana was still sprinting to catch up. She was struggling, the sun beaming down on her with its full strength. Out of any time that a dragon could attack, it did so at noon. With one hand holding her hood in place she finally managed to get in range to throw a bolt of lightning towards the dragon. It struck it on the leg, scales flying off as the beast struggled to maintain a straight flight path towards Arven.

She cursed. If it was night time she’d be able to fire off multiple spells in seconds, but right now she was seriously struggling. Not to mention, it had been days since she’d fed – primarily not to make Arven uncomfortable.

As the dragon flew closer it had arrows from the guards bouncing off of its hide and tail. A couple managed to stick but they didn’t pierce in deep enough to hurt. Arven’s arrows had more luck. Two more were now sticking out of the shoulders of the dragon, but it seemed more pissed than anything. Soon another torrent of fire was scorching the land, burning in a straight line aimed directly at Arven.

Arven got ready to shout once more.

“Fus ro dah!”

The sheer force projected by his voice was enough to knock the flames away. Embers landed all across the plains, starting small fires of their own but that was an issue that could be handled after the damn thing was dead. As soon as he had a clear shot with the Dragon almost on top of him, Arven fired off one more arrow. It struck the Dragon in the neck, sinking a good foot into the flesh of the cursed thing.

A cry of pain replaced the previous roar that the dragon had let out as it came crashing to the ground, blood spilling out of its mouth and neck at an alarming rate.

Letting his bow dissipate into nothing Arven then drew his sword and shield, charging the dragon from behind as he got ready to climb on its back and slay the damn thing. Just as he was about to reach it though he stopped dead in his tracks. Fear shot through him. He dropped his sword, the metal clanging on a rock by his feet as he turned around.

Another deafening roar came at him as a dragon even bigger than the first was flying towards him. A gigantic, black beast. A legendary dragon.

It opened its mouth, a terrifying noise shortly following.

“Gaan lah hass!”

Instantly Arven felt all the energy leave his body. His knees quaked beneath him and he shortly fell, one hand on the floor to support his body as his breath struggled to reach his lungs. All the vitality in him was almost gone and his vision was swimming. The legendary dragon flew directly overhead, slowly banking around to come back for another shot.

“Arven, look out!”

Serana’s voice came too late. Despite being wounded the downed dragon was still very much alive. Its tail swiped across, hitting Arven in his side before it sent him flying across the plains. The man rolled and tumbled across grass and stone, a loud sickening snap coming from his left arm before he finally came to a rest.

While some of the guards had been coming to help, with the addition of a second dragon they’d all fled. They knew they couldn’t help. Serana and Arven were the only two people outside, alone to face the wrath of two fully grown, deadly dragons.

While Arven struggled to regain some sense of direction the legendary dragon was coming right at him. Before it could pick his body up in its talons Serana just managed to intervene, throwing several ice shards at it. A flurry of ice followed by deathly cold winds battered the dragon from the side, its wing having parts of it encased in ice as it struggled to fly away from the source of the sudden pain it felt.

With his heart pounding in his ears and unable to feel his left arm Arven got to his feet as quickly as he could. He tried to move his left arm and got no response. Not only that but he couldn’t see his sword, the blade being lost in the grass a good 20 or so metres away from where he was currently standing.

Can’t shoot, only have one arm. No sword, no shield. Fuck I hate these shits.

The ancient dragon was slowly stomping towards him despite the blood still dripping from its neck and it looked incredibly angry. Not only that, but the legendary dragon had banked around and was coming straight at him while doing its best to drown Serana in flames on its way. Arven wasn’t even sure if she could survive that, but he could barely see a shield of ice only a few inches away from Serana as she extended her arms in a desperate attempt to ward off the heat.

The Dragonborn wasn’t sure how he could survive this, but despite the terror he felt he wasn’t going to give up. He wasn’t going to sentence Rorikstead to a terrible death.

Inhaling deeply, he looked straight at the legendary dragon as his good hand began to coalesce magics once more.

“Joor zah frul!”

His voice boomed across the landscape. Trees around him shook with the grass flowing away from his body as if a bomb had gone off at his feet. His ears had a terrible ringing noise in them afterwards and his throat ached, with almost all of his energy being sapped out of him. It worked, though.

The ancient dragon instantly collapsed to the floor, stopped in its tracks while the legendary one struggled to flap its wings as it started to plummet. It hit the ground with a thundering crash, pulling up roots and dirt in its wake as it slid to a slow stop some distance behind the ancient one.

By the time both dragons had come to a halt, Arven had a sword in his right hand. It wasn’t anywhere near as strong as Dawnbreaker, but it’d have to do. With a scream he charged at the ancient dragon, his left arm flailing in the wind behind him as he closed the distance. By the time he’d reached the beast it had gotten to its feet once more and it snapped at him – trying to crush Arven’s body between its jaws. The Dragonborn fell to the floor just in time, sliding underneath its skull before slashing out. He felt the blade sever tendons and muscle as it opened a gaping wound in its neck, all of its life force spilling out onto the grass. While it still had energy left in its body the dragon tried to stomp on Arven with a clawed foot but instead it found the conjured sword jammed directly into the sole of its foot. A terrible scream accented by the gurgling of blood came from the animal as Arven rolled to the side, struggling to get to his feet in time before he had a dragon collapse on him.

With no sword and not enough magicka left to conjure a new one, all he could do was run directly at the second dragon.

Off to the side Serana was struggling to stand to her feet. She was alive, but she was just as drained. Surviving the flames of a dragon in the middle of the day had taken every ounce of strength she had and her fingers were left numb with a thin layer of ice running up her forearms. She tried to take slow steps towards Arven, but fell to her knees shortly after.

As Arven got close to the dragon he took off his helmet, waiting. The second he saw the beast open its maw, heat beginning to pool in the back of its mouth Arven threw his helmet as hard as he could. It went directly into the black pit that was the dragon’s throat, causing it to momentarily choke. It was a small diversion but it was enough to stop any flames from burning him alive until he got closer

Then, as soon as he could, with the dragon opening wide to take a bite out of him the Dragonborn jumped into the mouth of the beast!

Planting both feet on the ridges of its mouth he used his good hand to catch hold of one of the many long fangs looming overhead. He struggled to maintain a good position as the dragon writhed about but he somehow managed. He only had seconds though as he could feel the heat gathering only feet away from him, flames beginning to spark in the depths of the dragon’s throat.

Using the last of his strength Arven planted his feet and he heaved. Pulling on that fang, a desperate scream erupted from his lips until he managed to tear the fang free from the mouth of the dragon, turning it around in his hand before he thrust it directly into the roof of the beast’s mouth.

A terrible scream came directly at him, one of shock and pain. He stabbed with the fang again, and again, blood pouring over his face as he caused as much damage as he could. Then with one final attack he reached down into the throat of the dragon, shoving the fang in deep before pulling it back towards him tearing flesh and bone along the way.

From the outside Serana could only look on in sheer horror. She didn’t have a clear view of the inside of the dragon’s mouth, but the screams coming from it and the man it had in its jaws was enough to make her skin crawl.

After a few more seconds of screaming, flailing and thrashing about, the dragon collapsed. Serana got to her feet as quickly as she could, part hobbling and part running over to see if Arven had survived. Before she could get there though the man crawled out the side of the dragon’s mouth then proceeded to collapse against it. He was drenched in blood, eyes wide with shock and hyperventilating.

Coming to her knees before him Serana held Arven’s cheeks in her hands, trying to look him in the eye. He just stared right through her, his chest rising and falling over and over every second.

“Arven, Arven! You need to calm down or you’ll pass out!” Serana said, almost yelling as she tried to get through to him. There was no response though. He was looking around, frantically, pupils wide with terribly cold skin.

“Arven!” Still no response.

Shit, he might hate me for this, she thought.

Holding onto his head with both hands she tried her best to force him to look at her. Then, she charmed him with as powerful a spell as she could conjure. Almost instantly Arven’s heartrate plummeted. His breathing returned to normal, and instead of staring into the distance he just looked at her with glazed over eyes.

After holding the spell for a short while, she released it. The life came back to his eyes and his breathing began to increase once more, but not to the level it was at previously. Looking around, Arven had to push Serana away before he crawled onto all fours and threw up all over the floor, food and bile burning his throat as it came up.

Serana crouched beside him, rubbing his back while gently speaking to the man.

“It’s alright, Arven. It’s over. You’re safe.” She kept repeating ‘you’re safe’ to him until finally he seemed calm, sitting back on his behind with his legs sprawled out before him, his left arm hanging limply at his side.

He looked at her, knowing full well what she’d done. “Thank you, Serana.”

Serana let a gentle smile cross her lips. “You’re most welcome.”

Unfortunately Arven didn’t have time to relax as a terribly familiar feeling came to his gut. He clenched over.

“Oh Gods, I hate this part,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Hate what?” Serana asked, slightly panicked. “Are you okay?”

Arven nodded. “Yeah, fine. Just give it a minute.”

 Before Serana could ask any further questions she noticed that the dragon behind Arven was disintegrating into the air, a beautiful display of lights and magicka beginning to swirl around the human in front of her. It was coming from the other dragon at the same time, a fantastic whirlwind of colour that left each beast bare down to its bones.

The energy swirled around Arven over and over until it was eventually absorbed into his body. As it was he took in a deep, long breath, vitality coming back to him as the power of each dragon became his own.

Serana stood up, her expression one of shock and awe as she tried to comprehend what just happened.

“Gods. You really are, aren’t you… D-“

“Don’t you fucking say it,” Arven interjected.

“What?” Serana asked, confused.

“Dragonborn. Don’t you dare call me that. Say that word and I’ll slap you with my dead arm.”

Serana paused for a moment. Then she burst out laughing, her hands on her knees as tears came to her eyes. It was entirely ridiculous but after that fight it felt good.

Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Arven thought.

Pushing himself to his feet, Arven turned around to see a large group of guards, men, women and children running towards him. There was a loud cheer coming from them all, looks of joy and relief clear on their faces.

“Praise the Dragonborn!” One called out.

“Dragonslayer!”

“Hero!”

More and more words of praise came at him. It was the only part of the job he liked, seeing those he saved. Two guards approached him at the sides and lifted him to his feet, supporting him. One tried to take his broken arm but a cry of pain stopped them instantly. Surprisingly, a priest pushed their way through the crowd and immediately started to tend to his wounds. The relief was instant, and Arven let out a weak thank-you.

A few guards went to Serana but she quickly turned them all away, saying she was fine. She was, after all, just tired.

___

Some hours later Serana and Arven sat in the corner of the Rorikstead inn. Music was playing and ale was flowing for everyone. Arven had bandages all over his left arm and his head – he’d gotten a few cuts after being flung across the ground by the tail of the first dragon.

Men and women took their turns standing up to thank Arven for what he’d done. He had tried to stop the speeches, but after seeing how happy it made some of the townsfolk he didn’t have the heart to interject. While they started out coherent, as more and more ale was consumed many ‘speeches’ turned into messes of slurred words and cheers.

Arven even had more than one woman propose, shockingly. One was more subtle, wearing an amulet of Mara while making sure it was in plain view as she struck up a conversation about wanting to see the world while another had simply come up and demanded that he marry her. She was very, very drunk. Each time Serana ended up turning them away, much to their disappointment. One of them asked Serana if she’d already taken Arven, to which the vampire responded by hurrying them out the door.

He wasn’t much of a drinker normally, but after a day like that Arven couldn’t resist having a few ales. Nothing excessive but just enough to let him relax, and to reduce the dull throbbing pain throughout his entire body.

“How’re you feeling?” Serana asked after dragging her chair closer to Arven. She had to speak up to be heard, considering just how loud the inn had gotten.

“Like absolute hell,” Arven said, smiling. “How about yourself? I saw you get roasted at one point, honestly wasn’t sure if you’d walk out of that.”

“Oh please, I’m fine. Figures something like this would happen in the middle of the day, though,” Serana said.

“Yeah. Not really the best timing. At least the damage to the town was minimal.”

Serana nodded. “You saved a lot of people today, Arven. They’re all incredibly appreciative.”

Arven didn’t respond, his head towards the floor as he held his mug in his right. He had a gentle smile on his lips but the memories were still incredibly fresh in his head making it hard for him to relax.

“Some of them more-so than others…” Serana continued as she motioned to a woman on the other side of the inn, a particularly busty Nord who hadn’t taken her eyes off of Arven all night long. The woman was twirling her hair around her finger as she gave the Dragonborn an uncomfortably intense stare.

Nine Divines have mercy, Arven thought to himself. After a moment he slowly pushed himself to his feet with a few soft groans of discomfort.

“I think it’s time I retired for the night,” he said.

“With or without your friend over there?” Serana asked, still observing the Nord in the corner.

“Without,” Arven replied. “Definitely without.”

The two walked over to the innkeeper who was frantically trying to keep up with everyone’s orders. Despite the celebrations being centred around Arven, everyone had gotten so drunk that they hardly noticed him moving away.

“Evenin,” Arven called to the man who didn’t notice them until the last second.

“Oh! Dragonborn, what can I do for you?” The man responded, causing Arven to flinch.

“Two rooms, if possible. It’s been a long day.”

The man thought to himself, scratching the thinning hair on his head for a moment. “Don’t have two, the place is almost booked. Got a single room with two beds, though,” he said.

Serana clicked her tongue, but just as she was about to suggest they look somewhere else, Arven spoke up. “That’s perfect, thanks.”

Serana was slightly surprised but she followed along, the two of them entering the room with the music and celebrations only getting marginally quieter in their accommodation. After he’d locked the door behind him Arven sat down on his bed. It was uncomfortable as anything, but at that moment it felt like heaven.

“Hey, are you going to be able to sleep like this?” Serana asked as she stood awkwardly in the corner.

Arven looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Me, in the same room. You know, the whole trust thing – which I get, I do, just-“

“It’s fine, Serana.” Arven said. He took a long, deep breath before he spoke any further. The voice in his head screaming at him not to trust the woman was still there, but it was much weaker than before. “I trust you. And thank you, again. I’m pretty sure you saved me twice today.”

The second Arven’s head hit his pillow he was out. He didn’t even bother removing his boots or gauntlets, lying on his back with his left arm in a make-shift sling.

Serana stood still, shocked as she processed what Arven had just said. She thought she must’ve heard wrong, but it was hard to argue with the sight of the vampire hunter willingly sleeping defenceless in the presence of a vampire lord.

Taking care not to wake him she sat down on the bed on the opposite side of the room, kicking her boots off before lying back and relaxing. She was almost just as drained as Arven was, and sleep came rushing up to greet her. Just before she dozed off Serana wiped her eye while she found herself unable to remove the smile that’d been stuck onto her face.

Notes:

Hello again! Told you all there'd be a bit more action this time! As always I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Full on action-scenes with Dragons is definitely new territory for me, so any feedback is more than welcome and appreciated! :)

Chapter 6: Night Terrors

Arven slowly woke with a soft grumble as the light entered his eyes. He felt heavy. Very, very heavy for some reason. Rubbing his eyes as he let out the groan of a man who just wanted to sleep in, he removed his hands to find that Serana was looking down at him. She was straddling his waist with her hands on his chest. No wonder he felt so heavy.

Wait. What?

“…Serana? What are you doing?”

In response the woman just smiled. It was a different smile than what Arven had gotten used to though. It wasn’t innocent, nor was it sweet. It was… expecting. She had a thirst in her eyes, a look that Arven had seen a few times before in the eyes of a vampire just before he killed them.

His heart-rate spiked. Arven tried to sit up but Serana’s strength was overwhelming and he couldn’t budge. Not even one inch.

“Serana…”

“Sorry, Arven,” Serana said without a hint of remorse in her voice. Her lips curled further back into an almost sadistic smile, one that made Arven incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing personal, I promise. A girl just needs to feed, and, well… I’ve always been attracted to powerful blood.”

See? The voice in his head called out. You knew this would happen. All vampires are the same.

As Serana came closer, opening her mouth with her fangs protruding out Arven coalesced as much restorative magic in his hand as he could. He shoved it against Serana’s torso with a shout. The spell singed her body on contact causing the vampire to flinch backwards with a hiss.

While she recoiled Arven tried to summon an ethereal blade in his hand to drive through the woman, but she was too fast. Serana instantly responded by summoning a sharp sickle of ice in one hand, driving it right through Arven’s palm and pinning the hand to his own bed.

Letting out a sharp cry of pain he opened his mouth, ready to shout as a last resort. He just wasn’t fast enough. Serana stuck at him with a closed fist, breaking his nose and causing his head to rebound back against his bed. With his vision blurred and pain searing in his face and hand, Arven couldn’t stop Serana as she sunk her fangs into his neck.

Arven woke, rather violently. He sprung up in his bed, sweat beading from his forehead and dripping from his nose as he struggled to catch his breath. He was fine. There was no ice piercing his hand, and his nose was in one piece. Well, it was still broken. It’d been broken numerous times before, but Serana hadn’t added another to that count.

As he woke, he turned to find Serana looking at him with a concerned expression. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning towards him as if she wanted to come closer – but she restrained herself. The look on her face was entirely different than it was in his dream. It showed genuine care, as far as he could tell.

“Arven?” She asked. “Are you okay?”

Arven just nodded, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. He unconsciously did so with the arm that was in the sling, but it caused him no pain. His bones seemed to be fully healed.

 “Uh, I think you’re meant to let that rest for a bit longer,” Serana said.

Arven smirked, consciously trying to make the smile more visible as he didn’t want Serana to worry. He didn’t even want to look at her for the moment. The rational part of his brain knew she wasn’t going to attack him. After all, she saved him the day before.

I’m not going to get over a life time of fear that easily, he thought.

“It’s fine. I heal pretty quick. One of the perks, I guess,” he said as he removed the sling and dropped it off the side of his bed. He stretched out his arm, rolling his shoulder to make sure it was fully recovered. Slightly tender, but fine.

Serana nodded in response, but she still seemed worried. After a pause, she spoke up.

“Nightmare?”

Arven just nodded, and Serana offered him a sweet, surprisingly comforting smile.

“I can sympathise,” she continued. “Do you want to sleep some more? I can’t imagine you’re well rested after that.”

As Arven had calmed down he looked around, taking in his surroundings. He’d passed out almost instantly the night before, so it was the first chance he had to look at this room. It was fairly small, with a few steps between his bed and Serana’s. Besides the two beds each had a chest at their base and a small table sat in the corner of the room with two chairs. Behind both beds was a window, with curtains keeping the light out.

Looking over to Serana she had shuffled back on her bed, legs up by her chest with a small book in her hands. It must’ve been another one from Fort Dawnguard that she’d picked up.

“What time is it?” Arven asked

“Not sure, I haven’t really checked.”

“…How long have you been awake?”

Serana tilted her head off to one side as she sat in thought. “Maybe a couple of hours?”

Arven let out a defeated sigh before looking out the curtain. Bright sunlight reached him and entered the room, causing Serana to pull back ever so slightly. Rearranging the curtains so he could only see out and the light didn’t get too far in, he tried to find the Sun.

“Serana… It’s noon.”

Serana just looked at him, frowning. “You’re saying that like it’s meant to mean something.”

“It is. We could almost be at Dragon Bridge by now, if I didn’t sleep in.”

“So? You were exhausted, and we’re in no huge rush.”

Arven dead-panned, staring at Serana who seemed entirely nonchalant about the entire thing.

“No rush? We’re trying to stop your father, remember? The guy who wants to control the Sun?”

“…Yeah, and he needs our Elder Scroll for that,” Serana said, motioning to the scroll which she had casually placed on the table as if it were any other, ordinary item.

Arven ran his hands through his hair. He almost felt like he was dealing with a child.

“Did you actually leave that there overnight, while we both slept?”

By now Serana had gone back to her book seeming uninterested in their current conversation. “Yep.”

“Didn’t think someone might try and steal it?”

“No one can see it on me. Illusion magic, remember? Besides I’m a light sleeper, if anyone tried to sneak in, I’d know.” Closing her book again she looked over at Arven with a kind smile. “Go back to sleep. I know you heal fast, but you’re probably more exhausted than you think.”

Arven hesitated. Whenever he paused for a moment, he could feel his exhaustion, rolling over him like a wave that wanted to drag him down. He just hated being still. Even more, he didn’t want that dream to return. Seeing Serana like that terrified him.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Serana said as she rested her chin on her knees, looking over to Arven. “Lie back down. If you can stay awake for one minute, we’ll get going.”

Arven looked at her, rolling his eyes.

One minute? Seriously?

Scoffing to himself he resigned to lying back down, willing to play her little game. While it was nice, admittedly, to have someone care about his wellbeing like this he didn’t want to be cared for. He wanted to be moving, hunting vampires. Making a difference.

10 seconds after his head hit the pillow, Arven was out.

“Some tough Dragonborn you are,” Serana whispered to herself as she struggled not to laugh. Watching over Arven for a moment, she put her book down and walked over. Taking the sheets that were only halfway up his body she pulled them up, gently tucking him in before walking back over to her bed and resuming her book. Every few seconds she’d glance over, making sure he wasn’t having another nightmare.

___

When Arven woke again it in a much more relaxed fashion compared to before. His eyes slowly opened, scanning the now dark room for familiar objects to orientate himself with as he shook himself out of a daze. He was surprisingly refreshed, all things considered. There were only the most minor aches in his body which he didn’t even notice unless he made an effort to focus on them.

As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he realised that it was just really, really dark. He sat up and stretched out with a slight groan, causing a small rustling sound to appear on the other side of his room.

“Oh, you’re awake?” Serana said. Arven couldn’t even see her, despite the room being fairly small.

Arven groaned in response, rolling his neck to let out a satisfying crack. “How long was I asleep for?” He asked.

Serana idly hummed to herself for a moment before responding. “12 hours, maybe?”

“You’re joking, right?” Arven asked, running his hands through his hair, still trying to wake up properly.

There was a moment of silence before Serana responded. “If you can’t see, I’m shaking my head while judging you.”

Arven rolled his eyes. He stood up, getting out of bed and peering out through the window. After confirming that no sunlight would come through, he opened the blinds to let what little moonlight there was into the room.

“You couldn’t wake up at dawn or something? That’d be much more convenient,” Serana said.

“Not like I can control it.” Arven replied. “Besides, it’s not really an issue. We can just walk at night.”

Serana perked up at that. “Really?”

“Don’t see why not. It’ll make it easier if we get attacked again, you might actually be useful.” Arven said. Serana let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Alright, do you want to head off now, then?” Serana said.

“Give me 15 minutes.”

__

A minute later, after taking a loaf of bread from the inn Arven was strolling barefoot out to a river behind the building. He had left his armour in the room while he found his way to the calm stream, discarding what was left of his clothing except his undergarments before halting an inch before the stream. The water was calm enough that he could see his reflection and he studied it for a moment.

Ever since he started absorbing the souls of dragons his physique had changed. He’d always been fit, but over time all the fat on his body had evaporated, giving room to trained muscle. While he kept an athletic figure, he was strong, and without armour in the way it was painfully obvious.

It was fitting of course. He’d become far, far stronger than any regular person. The souls he had within him were one of the main reasons he hadn’t died yet. They gave him the strength to fight off vampires that could toss a mortal man to the side in an instant. That’s not to say he was invincible; he knew that certain creatures could potentially overpower him. A Vampire Lord, for example.

As his reflection distorted in the stream he stepped forward, letting his feet into the water before lowering his body until only his head was above the water-line.

The water was freezing, but he had a handy trick. Taking a deep breath and reciting the Dragon language for the word fire, Yol, water started to steam off of his body. He turned the river into something closer to a hot spring as he relaxed and tried his best to clear his mind, looking up to the lights in the sky.

He had heard of the sky-lights before, but he never saw them until coming to Skyrim. Cyrodiil wasn’t blessed enough to see such a beautiful sight, it seemed. As the lights danced in the night sky, bright stars illuminated behind them, Arven let his body sink just a little bit lower until his entire figure was submerged. The hot water cleansed his skin, washing away the dirt and grime that had built up over the last few days and weeks.

Standing up, he ran his hands through his hair and started to clean himself. It was oddly relaxing, and feeling clean was a luxury he wasn’t able to enjoy much as of late. Not to mention, a moment of privacy was pure bliss.

Of course, privacy never lasted for Arven much anymore.

“Here you are. I was wondering where you’d run off to,” Serana asked as she sat down cross-legged a few metres away from the stream.

Arven paused after becoming aware of the fact that Serana was staring at him. After a moment of consideration though he decided he simply didn’t care. He had his modesty still, and she was invading his privacy. If anyone was to be embarrassed, it was her.

“Trying to get a moment of quiet before we set off,” Arven said as he began to stretch in the warmth of the water. Every muscle in his body seemed to be thanking him as the tension left him.

“Oh,” Serana replied bluntly. “Want me to head back?”

“No, it’s fine,” Arven replied. “I was just about to get out anyway.” He wasn’t lying, but he might’ve stayed in for another minute if left alone. Walking out of the river he let out another deep breath, chanting the Dragon language again. As he did all the water on his body evaporated almost instantly, leaving his skin completely dry with only a slight amount of moisture clinging to his hair.

Serana at least had the decency to turn around as he threw his clothes back on.

“You know, we can wait until morning to leave,” Serana said.

“Why? Unless you’re tired, we should just go now,” Arven said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Serana shook her head. “I’m fine, but you remember we’re hunting vampires, right?”

Arven nodded, and Serana pointed to the sky. “See an issue?”

“Nope,” Arven responded.

“If we run into them, it’ll be a much tougher fight at night, just in case you weren’t aware Mr. Vampire Hunter.”

“Tell me, besides your father are there any other Vampire lords?”

Serana tilted her head to the side. “Well, maybe somewhere else in Tamriel-“

“I mean here. Associated with Castle Volkihar.”

“No, just my family.”

“And your father isn’t the type to do his own work, from what I can tell, right?”

“No way. He’s not leaving that Castle unless he’s won.”

“So, nothing to worry about. In the day I’m stronger than they are and at night you are. We win both ways.”

Serana just sighed. It felt nice that he trusted her, but it still would’ve likely been safer during the day.

“Fine, as long as you’re sure,” she said.

Arven walked past her, turning to her to give the woman a brief smile. “I am.”

After getting clothed, taking some more food from the inn and leaving his payment on the main counter, the two of them continued towards Dragon Bridge. It wasn’t far, and Arven guessed they’d be there before the Sun started to rise.

“Who knows, with any luck we might run into the Dragon Priest before we even get there,” the Imperial said.

“In the middle of the night? Don’t think anyone else is crazy enough to go travelling at this time,” Serana said.

Arven shrugged. “He’s crazy enough to read Elder Scrolls. This isn’t a stretch.”

“Different kind of crazy.”

“Like, hanging out with a Vampire Lord crazy?”

Serana rolled her eyes, shoving Arven in the shoulder. “Yeah, that kind of crazy.”

Now that they were walking in the dark, Serana didn’t need to have her hood on. Arven found that awfully distracting. There was a soft breeze in their face, letting her hair flow behind her figure ever so slightly. Although they walked along side by side, Arven found himself occasionally taking a few steps back as he absent-mindedly looked over towards her.

He did it a few times before he properly caught himself, shaking his head and running a hand over his chest – right where his magic resistant charm was. It wasn’t any magical charm that was compelling him, it was just reassuring for the warrior to think so. The idea that her magics led to his attraction was more comfortable than the idea that he simply found her attractive.

Despite his rather obvious gaze, Serana never noticed. At least she didn’t act like she did. Although Arven slowed himself on occasion to take a step or two back, after a few moments Serana matched his pace. Before long they were travelling at half the speed they were before, nothing more than a leisurely walk.

“Hey, Serana,” he called out.

She perked up, her eyes widening slightly as she looked over to him. “Hmm? What’s up?”

“Did you get enough sleep? You’re kind of zoning out.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” She waved him away, taking a few steps forward after realising just how slow they were moving.

“You sure? You seem distracted.”

“Just daydreaming, that’s all. Wondering what it’d be like to travel with someone who’s actually funny, charming. Handsome. Never really experienced that.” She looked over to him with a cocky smile, while Arven just rolled his eyes with a groan.

Arven found that as long as he didn’t slow down, Serana didn’t either. He still felt like something was up but he didn’t push it any further. Instead he just enjoyed the quiet of the night. He missed the warmth of the sun that came with travelling during the day, but the night had its own perks.

The Imperial kept coming back to staring at the lights in the sky. The way they danced through the air entranced him, and he couldn’t stop a smile from crossing his lips. He almost tripped once or twice, but he didn’t let that stop him.

While the view was gorgeous, as the road started to get less well paved further away from the town he found himself tripping up more often. With his helmet on he had no peripheral vision, making it too easy for him to stumble. There was really no reason for Arven to be fully armoured so he chose to remove the bulky helm. It normally fit his head fine, but after fighting the dragons it had come slightly deformed. Still fine to wear, but it certainly wasn’t brand new anymore. As he lifted it a small sharp piece of metal that had formed from a crack scraped against his neck, slicing the skin over a few centimetres just enough to let some blood start to drip down.

Cursing to himself he finished removing his helm before going to take off his gauntlet so he could wipe away the blood, but before he could he saw Serana staring at him. She was no longer spaced out. Her eyes were insanely focused, and she seemed more alert than she ever had been.

She seemed incredibly intimidating in that moment, but she seemed to break herself out of it, turning away and hurrying off ahead of Arven.

A terrible feeling started to rise in the Imperial’s stomach.

With his hand free of his gauntlet he placed his fingers across the cut and jogged to catch up to Serana. As he got closer, she increased her stride to maintain a certain distance between them.

“Serana,” he said. She didn’t respond. He felt the warm blood against his skin, sticking out against the cold air that cooled the rest of his neck and face. Letting the blood slowly drip from the wound he called out again in a sharper, louder voice.

“Serana. Wait.”

She turned around, looking off to the side and refusing to make eye contact. Her nostrils seemed to flare and her eyes were bright and intense. They were hungry.

“Serana…”

She mumbled something in response that he couldn’t hear.

“Serana, what’re you- “

“Clean your damn neck!” She almost shouted at him, making eye contact while clenching her hands in fists. Arven eyed her off, not moving from his position as the blood continued to drip.

“Just, please. Clean your neck already,” she continued looking back down. She almost sounded ashamed.

Eventually Arven did so. He let a soft golden glow cover his fingers as he ran them over the cut, sealing the wound while wiping away the blood. After his neck was clean, he didn’t move. Neither of them did.

He understood what was going on, now. He should’ve realised much earlier, but he didn’t.

“You’re starving,” he said.

She simply nodded.

“For how long?”

Serana shuffled her feet before looking up at Arven. Whether intentionally or not, her illusion faded for the briefest moment and her face became gaunter. Her eyes seemed to sink into her skull. She seemed like a shadow of her former self – a sickly, older version. She was still attractive, but the difference was shocking.

The illusion was only dropped for a second before Serana had it back up. “Hungry for days. Starving since the dragons.”

Arven closed his eyes at the mention of dragons, taking a deep breath. He was going to ask her why she didn’t speak up, but he knew why. She was trying to be considerate. Any normal vampire would’ve started showing the signs of hunger much earlier. Fresh vampires would’ve gone rabid, or feral. Not to mention, getting attacked by dragons would’ve drained most of Serana’s remaining strength. It was honestly a shock to Arven that she hadn’t collapsed, now that he thought about it.

The silence that fell over them was long and exceedingly uncomfortable. Arven knew what she needed to do, but he wasn’t going to say it.

“I need…” Serana started. She cut herself off, biting her lip. “You go on ahead, I’ll catch up by the time the sun rises.”

“What’re you going to do,” Arven demanded.

“Don’t make me say it,” Serana responded.

“What. Are you going to do?”

Serana shook her head. “There’s a small town nearby. I can smell them from here. I’ll be back before- “.

“No.”

Serana frowned, staring at Arven. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, no. You aren’t… I can’t let you attack innocent people,” Arven said through clenched teeth.

“Attack? Who said anything about that? They won’t even know I’m there, I just need to feed and get out.”

“Can you do that?” He asked. He had words coming up, things he wanted to say. His instincts were taking over. He knew he shouldn’t lash out, but controlling himself was proving incredibly difficult. His gut was to protect anyone from being a victim of a vampire. He trusted Serana as a person, but the cautious side of him didn’t trust her as a Vampire Lord still.

“Of course I can!”

“Are you sure? Will you be satisfied with just one? You won’t feed on another, and another?”

“How dare you! Of course I won’t!”

“Are you sure? What if you get caught? What if their partner, their family or their child walks in? What if they attack? What if you get caught in a fight and someone dies?”

“That won’t happen! I can just- “

Arven stepped closer. His voice was choking slightly and his eyes were wet with moisture. “What if you fuck up, and the smell of blood drives you crazy? What if you turn into that thing and before I know it, I’m down there trying to save some kid from becoming an orphan, watching his parents get torn a-fucking part!”

Serana took a step back, her eyes full of disbelief, shock and anger. The look in her eyes hurt Arven, but he knew he deserved that look. Despite his words he was the one that lacked control.

Without saying anything, Serana turned off and left into the woods. Her body dissipated into clouds, surging with the wind away from Arven in a blink of an eye. She’d normally tried to hide her vampiric powers from him, but that courtesy seemed to be gone now.

Arven was left wide-eyed in the middle of the road, stunned.

“Shit. Shit!”

__

Half an hour later and Arven was sprinting through the woods. He’d looked at his map the second he came to his senses, finding the nearest town. It wasn’t close by any stretch and he wasn’t sure if there was a smaller group of people that Serana had been talking about, but this was the only thing he had to go off.

He was getting closer to the town quickly, having shouted to let the wind surge at his back. There was no way to track Serana given how she travelled. Arven had a charm that warned him of undead around, but he was no where near skilled enough as a mage to sense them out, let alone at a distance. The charm didn’t seem to work on undead of Serana’s level either.

As he ran, he continually cursed himself underneath his helmet that he’d put on again. The worst-case scenario kept running through his mind. He was mentally preparing himself for it. What if Serana got to the town and fed? What if she did lose control? What if her anger at him lead her to lash out against the people, and by the time he got to the village all he found was drained corpses and blood splattered across their houses?

He knew Serana would never do that. He knew she wasn’t just a mindless vampire. That didn’t stop the terrible images from filling his head though, and he ran with his sword drawn.

By the time he’d found the nearby town he was covered in sweat underneath his armour, but he didn’t notice. The Imperial came up on the crest of a hill that looked over a town, if you could even call it that. There were maybe 8 buildings all up, all relatively close together. It was deadly quiet except for the sounds of nature around him. No light came from the town. He couldn’t see any torches, enchanted lights or anything else. No signs of an attack, or at least no signs of a struggle.

After taking a few breaths he stepped forward, ready to climb down the hill to try and look for Serana, apologise, and try to stop her before she fed. Even though he knew she had to feed somehow, he didn’t want any innocent people being subject to a vampire.

Just as he stepped out, he heard Serana’s voice.

“Over here, idiot.”

He spun on his heel, finding the woman sitting on a tree stump with her forearms resting on her knees. She saw the blade in Arven’s hand and shook her head.

“Seriously? Put your fucking sword away.”

Arven looked at the weapon with a dumb expression before dropping it. He took a few steps towards Serana, but he stopped. He didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t feed,” she said. Her eyes were the same as before. They still had that hunger to them.

 Arven nodded in an attempt to respond.

“They’re all safe. I’m not planning on going down there, no child is going to lose their parents.”

Arven swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry vampires took your family, Arven.” She him in the eye. There was kindness in her eyes, but the hunger remained. It made Arven’s skin crawl, and reminded him that Serana wasn’t fully human.

“That obvious, huh?”

“That’s some of the first real emotion I’ve seen from you. Pretty obvious, yeah.” Arven just sighed in response. He wanted to say a lot, but he didn’t know to get the words out. Before he could respond Serana had moved over on the stump, tapping an empty spot next to her.

Hesitantly Arven walked over and took the offered seat. He took his helmet off, making sure not to scratch himself again and placed it down before letting his tense body relax. “Sorry, Serana.”

“It’s okay.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “So, now what?”

Arven turned to her and she met his eye.

“I can’t starve to death Arven,” she said, and Arven nodded. “I have to feed on someone eventually.”

“No,” Arven replied as bluntly as before. Serana recoiled, anger coming to her face again but before she could speak Arven held his hands up. “I’m not telling to starve, okay? I just… I’m sorry. I’d rather you drink someone who’s, well… compliant.”

“And how is that going to happen? I’m not just going to go around asking people if I can bite them.”

While Serana responded Arven started taking off his gauntlet, leaving his hand and part of his forearm bare. Then in a blink of an eye, he drew his dagger from his belt and sliced his arm, enough to let blood flow freely. He winced. It hurt, quite a bit.

Serana just stared at him in shock as he offered his arm.

“Are you serious?” She said. Her eyes were absolutely wild and it took everything she had not to salivate. She was even fidgeting on the spot, incredibly uncomfortable.

“Yes. There’s no risk this way,” he said. He looked at her, moving his arm closer to her. “Just drink already.”

After another second’s hesitation Serana caught hold of his arm and latched her lips around the wound. She started to drink, heavily. Her skin turned a flushed red as she drunk and her eyes seemed to burst with colour while her grip grew stronger every time she swallowed. Arven couldn’t help but stare. Seeing the dignified, noble looking woman feeding like this was such a stark contrast.

After a second, Serana stopped. “Don’t look. It’s creepy.”

Rolling his eyes, Arven did as he was asked. He looked up at the night lights while the sounds of Serana feeding filled his ears. He felt incredibly squeamish, but this was the best way to handle it.

Before he knew it Serana had finished. She pulled away and wiped her mouth, breathing out heavily. Taking his arm back and sealing the wound with a quick spell Arven couldn’t help but notice the change. There was an aura of strength around her now. She always seemed capable, but now she seemed as if she was above everyone else. Not in a cocky, or arrogant manner. Serana just seemed as if she could walk into any room in the world and demand the attention and respect of every person in attendance, regardless of who they were.

It reminded Arven of Harkon, in a less terrifying way.

Serana turned to him, offering him a gentle smile. Her eyes had returned to the way they normally were. She still let him see the true colour, but they seemed human again – despite the yellow iris.

“Sorry,” Arven said. “Don’t really know what to say after someone drinks your blood. Kind of new to this.”

Serana playfully hit him in the arm. It seriously hurt.

“Should we get going again?” Arven asked.

Serana didn’t respond. She just rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, looking up at the night lights. “In a moment. I’m truly sorry about what happened to your family, Arven. I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you,” Arven said, in more of a whisper than anything.

Notes:

Hey again! Sorry for the delay with this chapter, work has picked up recently and my free time has been cut down dramatically. I'm still working on it, but it might be longer between chapters from now on.

Thank you to everyone who's commented or left kudos! It's incredibly motivating knowing you're all waiting to read what I've written next. I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter as well!

Chapter 7: The Moth Priest

Arven frowned to himself, one hand idly rubbing over the fresh scar on his forearm. It was faint and he knew it’d heal within a day or two, so the scar itself didn’t bother him. Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, he just didn’t feel comfortable with helping a vampire feed. It was better than the alternative and that brought him some comfort, but the warrior couldn’t remove the gut feeling telling him it was wrong.

Serana reached out and pushed him lightly on the arm. “Arven, are you alright?”

The two were walking side by side. It was a few hours before dawn and they were getting much closer to their destination.

He nodded in response, looking over to her. “You seem a bit different.”

Serana shrugged. “No one’s at their best when they’re starving.”

Arven shook his head. “No, you’re… I don’t know how to say it. Intimidating?”

Serana frowned. She almost seemed slightly hurt.

“You find me intimidating?” She asked.

“No, of course not. You just seem more… powerful? You almost remind me of your father.”

Serana deadpanned. “You really know how to flatter a woman, don’t you?” Her voice was almost seeping with a sarcastic venom.

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that.” Arven sighed.

“It’s fine, I understand what you’re getting at,” Serana replied. She flexed her hand, forming a fist over and over again. “I think it’s you.”

Arven blinked. “I… I don’t follow.”

“Well, vampires get their strength from blood, right?”

“Ah.” It clicked. Of course his blood would have some kind of effect on her, it was the entire reason for his own strength.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good. At first, even the taste was- “

“You don’t need to describe the taste,” Arven interrupted. “Please.”

“Sorry. I thought it was different, that I was just really hungry but this… energy, hasn’t left me since.”

Arven didn’t know how to feel about it. It wasn’t a bad thing, he knew that. It just made his skin crawl.

“I could probably get addicted to you, Arven,” Serana said with a sly smile.

Arven was glad he had his helmet on as his cheeks turned red. He knew she was toying with him, but that didn’t lessen the effect of her words.

“You’re a bad person,” he said.

Serana laughed. “Oh please.”

“I know what you’re talking about though. I’m pretty sure it’s the same feeling as when I kill one of those things.”

“I thought you hated that?”

Arven nodded. “I do. I hate it because it makes me feel like I’m becoming more like them, though. That’s what makes me feel sick. The strength though… it does feel good.”

“Just how much stronger are you now?” Serana asked. There was an almost childish curiosity behind her eyes, the deep yellow irises that stood out in the dim light of the moon.

“I’ve… never really thought about it,” Arven said. “When I fought my first dragon, I was out for a week because of my injuries. They didn’t think I’d fully heal. I’d basically lost all movement in one of my legs.”

As he spoke, he could almost feel a ghostly chill running through his left leg, directly where the beast had bitten straight through his flesh with one of its fangs.

“Now, I’m rarely out for more than a day,” he continued. “My armour feels like I’m just wearing regular clothing, my sword is almost like waving around a stick.”

“Doesn’t really sound like the worst thing in the world, if you ask me.”

Arven grimaced underneath his helmet. “I suppose. Still not strong enough, though.”

“Don’t tell me you are power hungry. You’re not the type, I can tell,” Serana replied. She was staring at him, studying him as he spoke. It made him feel a little bit uneasy, but not enough that he’d say anything.

“No, but… I’m still weaker than some dragons, physically. I know I’m not as strong as Harkon and I’m pretty confident you could beat me easily.”

“Really? You’ve never seemed afraid to take me on. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you had your sword out chasing me before.”

“Didn’t mean I thought I’d win, but I wasn’t going to do nothing.”

Serana let a soft smile come to her lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you’re the Dragonborn.”

As soon as she said it Arven tensed up, but Serana quickly placed her hand on his shoulder. He was calmed almost instantly. While he definitely hated the idea of being under the effects of her magic, this was one exception.

“Is this revenge for comparing you to your father?”

Serana chuckled. “No, I mean it. That kind of power could’ve gone to some terrible people. People who’d use it to control others, or rule over them. You, though. You just seem to want to help people.”

She smiled at him again, the infuriating kind of smile that left him lost for words. “I really admire that, Arven.”

The Imperial let out a deep breath. “You’re far too kind to be a vampire, you realise that yeah?”

Serana frowned before shoving him. “You ass.”

Arven grinned to himself beneath his helmet. “Still, I’m far from the strongest thing around. Not sure how much I can do against a master mage, either.”

“You seem to know a bit of magic, couldn’t you just work on that?”

Arven shook his head. “I’m terrible at magic.”

“Uh, you seem to know at least some. Your conjuration is pretty decent, at least, and you’re not a half-bad healer.”

Arven raised a hand, waving his gauntlet around. “Enchanted gloves. Without these my conjuration is… not good.”

“Really? That’s, pretty surprising honestly.”

Arven shrugged. “I can fight and I can yell, but that’s about it.”

“Can you show me?”

Arven blinked beneath his helmet. “Show you… what, exactly?”

“Your conjuration magic, without your gauntlets.”

“Sure, but… why?”

“I’m curious.”

Arven rolled his eyes. It didn’t hurt, and it killed a bit more time so he didn’t really mind. Undoing the straps on one of his gauntlets he slid it off, hanging it from his belt as he wriggled his fingers. Concentrating on letting the magicka flow to his fingers after a few moments a ball of ethereal magic was running around his exposed hand. It started to form a shape, extending out into a sword. It was working but at a much, much slower pace than it had when he was fighting the dragon.

The shadows extended, tendrils reaching out into the air to form a solid shape as the mist-like substance took on a more rigid form. By the time it was finished he was gripping the handle of a shadowy weapon. It was a sword, but it wasn’t very sharp. Almost useless against something with armour, or scales.

Serana reached out and ran her finger over the blade, pursing her lips as she realised just how dull the “metal” was.

“Just how strong is that enchantment?” She asked.

“Pretty strong. One of the mages at the college owed me a favour. It does the job.” After Serana had finished inspecting the weapon Arven dropped it. As soon as it hit the floor it dissipated into a fine mist.

“And your restoration magic, is that the same?”

“No, I’m actually not half bad at that.

Serana tilted her head to the side. “I thought you were terrible at magic?”

“Well, I am. Restoration is just an exception. I’ve been using it since I was a kid.”

Serana didn’t respond, but she kept looking at Arven as if waiting for him to continue. He sighed, relenting.

“My parents were priests who travelled around Cryodiil, mainly just helping people. They were both healers, it’s how they met. I got a lot of exposure to injured soldiers and people from a young age, and I wanted to help.” As Arven spoke, his hand started to glow with a gentle golden light. It soothed him.

“I was pretty bad, and I could tell they were frustrated with how slow I picked it up, but they tried not to show it. Even though I was terrible, I really wanted to help. They often worked themselves to the point of exhaustion trying to help people. Eventually I was good enough to treat minor wounds, and it grew from there.”

Letting the glow dissipate from his hand Arven placed his glove back on, tightening the straps to lock it in place while they continued to work. “I’m far from a master, but I’m good enough. It’s the only magic I can really do without any help though.”

“Can you heal undead?”

Arven hesitated, thinking. “No. I never learned.” It was a sensible question, especially if he was going to keep travelling with Serana. Arven just never thought he’d need it.

“Didn’t think you’d ever be in a position to use it?” Serana asked.

Arven nodded.

“That’s alright. What about wards?”

“You’re awfully inquisitive tonight.”

Serana raised her hand, letting sparks fly between her fingers. “Well, vampires are pretty good at destruction magic. Generally.”

Arven cringed. He knew that, but wards weren’t his strong point. “I can cast them, but… they’re not the best. I generally either shout or try to kill them before they can kill me.”

“You really should practise wards.” Serana replied.

“I can, but I don’t think it’ll do much good.”

Serana just stared at him with an obviously unimpressed look.

“What? I’ve got you to protect me, after all,” Arven responded. He tried his best to imitate Serana’s teasing tone. He didn’t do the best job, but it worked even if he didn’t realise it.

Serana felt herself blush, if only a little bit. She hadn’t done that in decades. It was slightly embarrassing, and she immediately decided for some payback. Stepping out in front of Arven, she placed a hand on his chest to stop him before moving some twenty paces back. She didn’t so much walk as just glide, covering the distance in a second.

“Serana…?”

“Try to get close to me,” she said.

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m going to convince you to practise your wards, so you don’t get blown up. Try to get close to me.” Without any more discussion she raised a single hand, hovering an inch off of the floor with her feet dangling. A sharp sickle of ice appeared between her fingers before she threw it directly at Arven’s feet. It shattered half a second later, sending sharp small icicles flying in every direction.

Arven jumped back immediately, his greaves getting scratched from the shards. He opened his mouth to tell Serana to stop but found himself dodging to the side as another icicle flew past.

Gods damn it, can’t I ever have a quiet night?

Drawing his shield from his back he raised it in front of his body and hunched over, covering most of his figure with the barrier. He then started to run forward, occasionally planting his feet into the ground and using his legs to launch himself from one side to the other.

Serana let a playful grin come to her lips as she continued to throw ice at the warrior. It was entirely effortless for her, but they’d be deadly against a normal person.

After a few seconds the floor was covered in ice around the pair and Arven had closed almost the entire distance while his shield was practically hailed on. The force behind the impacts of the ice was sending jarring vibrations up his arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Just as he got close enough to strike if he had his sword out, Serana held both her palms outwards towards him and send a blizzard towards the man. Thousands of tiny shards flew from her fingers as strong winds buffeted him backwards, his feet dragging in the ground as he lost all the progress he had made.

“Now, if you had a good ward this would be useless against you!” Serana called out over the sounds of howling winds. It was a good thing that they were still at least half an hour away from any town, or someone would easily hear all the commotion.

Alright, I’ll show you.

“Fus! ”

The blizzard parted for Arven as he surged forward, lowering his shield while reaching out with his free hand to grab for Serana as she rushed up towards him. In the blink of an eye she was within reach, but just as he went to close his hand around the collar of her clothing she disappeared into a dark, fine mist.

A moment later and Serana had re-appeared behind him with lightning crackling around her hand, aimed directly at Arven’s back. There was no way the Imperial could respond in time, and as he turned around, he saw a childish, cocky smile on Serana’s face.

The lightning turned into a flame and she shot a small burst directly to Arven’s backside. The flames heated his armour in an instant, singing the skin underneath.

Arven yelped. He jumped, holding his behind in one hand.

Serana couldn’t help herself. She laughed like a child. The sound would’ve been music to Arven’s ears, if it hadn’t been directed at him.

“Oh, hilarious,’ he said as he tried to retain some dignity, turning to face her.

“It really, really is!” She replied as she continued to laugh. Despite her age, the woman still acted like a kid at times. Arven almost admired that in a way.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough,” he said as he placed his shield on his back once more. Serana just continued to laugh. He let out a sigh, then he whispered.

“Tiid.”

For a few moments time around him stood eerily still. It was if he was staring at a perfect statue. The sensation of slowing time to a crawl still made Arven feel strange, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity to abuse his power just to mess with Serana a tiny bit.

Taking a few strides forward he stopped when his nose was barely an inch away from Serana’s. Then, time resumed. The expression on Serana’s face went from one of delight and joy to pure shock in a second. Her laughter cut short, and she hiccupped while scrambling back. Then, she hiccupped again.

“How did you d-hic, that?” She asked while covering her mouth.

Arven tried not to laugh. He succeeded in a way, but just ended up snorting.

“Oh, come on, that’s not funn-hic!”

Suddenly, Arven failed in his attempt not to laugh. It was the first time he’d properly laughed in a long, long time. It felt good.

Serana grumbled to herself, trying to keep her mouth shut while her entire body jumped ever so slightly every time she hiccupped. Despite her frustration, she liked watching Arven laugh. It was the most open he had been with his emotions, aside from his outburst about her feeding.

You ass, Serana thought with a gentle smile.

__

Serana stopped hiccupping shortly afterwards, much to Arven’s disappointment. They continued to walk towards Dragon Bridge as the moonlight began to fade with the sun barely beginning to peak over the horizon. As they walked Arven was idly practicing wards in his left hand. He hadn’t told Serana, but he took that ‘demonstration’ to heart. On and off again he summoned a ward projecting from his left hand, starting off with something small and weak before putting more and more magicka into it until it became too concentrated for him to handle.

The Imperial repeated that over and over as they walked. His magicka reserves were drained slightly as a result but not enough to significantly disadvantage him if he needed it. The spell did take some concentration though, which was why he took a few steps past Serana without noticing it as she stopped dead in her tracks.

He turned to face her. “Serana?”

She was looking straight ahead. The road curved around to the left however Arven knew it eventually turned back to continue on to their destination. A rough guess figured that Serana was staring directly through to the main bridge that carried them to the town.

“Blood.”

Arven frowned. “How far away?”

“Not too far. It’s fresh.” Without waiting any longer, she burst out into a run, looking behind to make sure Arven followed. He did and the two of them ran off the path, directly through the forest. Arven stuck behind Serana most of the way with the forest being too dark for him to properly see and the last thing he wanted was to trip on a root or stone like a fool.

After a few more minutes they burst out onto the road once more, following it for a couple hundred meters until they came upon the source of the blood, with Dragon Bridge visible slightly further down the road. A cart had been overturned with the corpses of Imperial soldiers sprawled along the floor with one or two non-uniformed bodies. Even the horse dragging the carriage had been slain.

Arven walked over to one of the soldiers, only to stop when he realized just how badly the man had been attacked. His arm had been torn off, along with a chunk of flesh in his neck. The sight made him feel ill.

“Vampires. Not really a surprise, I guess,” said Serana as she crouched over one of the other bodies. She seemed visibly angry. Not just upset, but pissed.

Arven sighed softly to himself. He knew it wasn’t his fault but a part of him felt incredibly guilty for not arriving an hour earlier.

If I wasn’t so busy sleeping in and befriending a damn Vampire, I would’ve gotten here on time.

He shook his head at the thought. It was wrong and he knew it, but the voice was still as present as ever.

Looking back at Serana he saw the woman opening a bloodied note, scanning over it briefly.

“Forebear’s holdout, they’ve got the Moth Priest. Do you know it?” She asked as she crumpled the paper and stood back up.

Arven nodded. “I know of it.” Without another word he started to jog off, following tracks made by a man who was being dragged with his feet bound together. His guilt surged as he was leaving corpses to rot underneath the rising sun, but he ignored it.

I’ll come back. First, I have to make sure no one else dies.

“Looks like they’re in a hurry, they haven’t exactly been subtle about this all,” Arven said.

“A lot of the vampires I know are cocky, this doesn’t really surprise me.”

Arven grunted to himself. It was strange. Some vampires he had dealt with had been incredibly cautious and clever. They lived among society for decades, not causing a commotion until they had one small slip up. Others didn’t care, and seemed to thrive on their reputation.

“Why wouldn’t they bring the priest back to the Castle straight away? Surely that’d be safer,” Arven asked.

“Might be too dangerous. I don’t know much about these priests, but they can probably defend themselves. A trip that long with an uncooperative hostage wouldn’t be fun.”

Arven nodded in response. It didn’t take long for them to reach the entrance to the holdout. It looked like nothing more than an entrance to any ordinary cave. The only thing that made it different was a fresh set of footprints leading into it. He looked back to Serana who just nodded to signal that she was ready, and Arven stepped foot into the cave.

It quickly became almost pitch black, making it near impossible to move at anything faster than a crawl. For Arven, at least. Serana was fine. Before long the sound of rushing water came to greet the warrior’s ears, something which he was thankful for. At least he wouldn’t need to worry about the sound of his footsteps.

Reaching into his belt, he pulled out a small vial filled with an off-green liquid. He’d had it for a while now, but he was told by an alchemist that it shouldn’t expire any time soon. After drinking it down and struggling not to let a sour expression form on his face from the taste of it, light slowly began to trickle into his surroundings. Considering how Vampire’s seemed to love hiding in dark places it just made sense to always have a potion of night eye readily available.

The narrow path soon opened up into a large, wide cavern. It was large enough that the ruins of a large fort could be seen taking up the majority of the area. It was large enough to house a small barracks, if needed.

Who in their right mind would build a fort inside of a cave?

Between the two of them and the fort was a stream of running water with a bridge off to their side. Not only that, but Death Hounds. Far too many Death Hounds for Arven’s liking.

By far the most prominent item in the cavern however was a shield of magicka surrounding what seemed to be runes, positioned in the middle of the fort. Just as the Imperial was struggling to figure out what it was, a voice started to echo around them, bouncing off the walls and roof of the cave.

“The more you fight me, the more you will suffer, mortal,” said the voice.

“I will resist you, monster. I must!” Said another, replying in a defiant tone.

Arven turned to Serana. “That’ll be our Moth Priest,” he said in a hushed whisper.

Serana reached out to grab his shoulder. Arven looked down at her hand, but he didn’t pull back. “I know that voice,” she said. “Malkus. He’s old, be careful.”

Arven nodded. “Not a Vampire Lord, though?” He asked

Serana shook her head.

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

Stepping further out into the cavern, Arven and Serana stood on a raised platform. The only path towards the fort seemed to be down towards the bridge, following that over before approaching the entrance to the fort which was placed almost as far away from the bridge as possible.

Figures, whoever built this would want to make it easy to defend.

“Serana, do you know any silent magic?”

Serana tilted her head. “Not really. Destruction magic is great for showing off, not the opposite.”

Arven sighed. “Alright, just… stay put for a moment.”

Serana raised an eyebrow. “And who put you in charge of our little mission?” She said playfully, a grin on her lips. “I could easily just handle this myself, you know.”

Arven opened his arms, signaling to the fort. “Be my guest.”

The vampire paused. She seemed as if she was seriously considering it for a moment. “No, I don’t think I will,” she finally said as she sat down on the floor cross-legged. She looked to Arven with the excitement reminiscent of a child. “I want to see how you handle this. Don’t worry, I’ll help if you need it.”

This is like a damn game to her.

“If we can sneak up on them it’s safer for the priest. We make ourselves known too early and they might rush it and kill him by accident, or purposefully to keep us from getting to him,” she continued with a more serious expression. “I can try, but I don’t know if I can handle them all fast enough. It’s best for the priest if you can get us closer.”

Arven nodded, Serana’s care helping to silence the voice of doubt in the back of his mind. Regardless, he extended a hand and let magicka swirl around his fingers once more. In the same manner as he always did, he ended up with an ethereal bow in his left hand while tendrils of purple smoke danced around his right, waiting to be formed into arrows. He looked out for as many of the hounds as he could find.

Five close by, more in the fort.

“Tiid.”

As he did before, Arven slowed time. The hounds walked in a manner that seemed unnatural, their red glowing eyes sticking out like luminescent bugs in the darkness of the cavern. Easy targets.

One by one Arven drew his bow and fired off an arrow, each one striking the hounds as close to the heart as possible. He hit three of them dead-on, but the last two were slightly off. The first three dropped without a sound, but the last two ever so slowly began to react to the immense pain they now felt. Just as the shout was running out Arven fired off two more arrows, managing to successfully kill the final hounds just in time.

From his perspective it took a few seconds. For Serana, it was over within the blink of an eye. As the shout faded the warrior looked back to her with a satisfied grin beneath his helmet. Serana glared at him, instantly reminded of her bout of hiccups from before.

“Show off,” she muttered to him.

Arven ignored her, instead looking back out to the fort. He hadn’t been noticed just yet. It seemed as if all attention was on the vampire’s captive.

“How much longer can you keep this up, Moth Priest? Your mind was strong, but you’re exhausted from the struggle,” called the voice from earlier. It seemed cocky. Arrogant. It infuriated Arven just listening to him.

Arven couldn’t hear any response, but Serana did. She walked up to him. “We need to hurry,” she said. “He’s weaker than I thought.”

Arven nodded. “Follow me. The moment they notice us, go straight up and try to stop them from whatever they’re doing. I’ll follow and clear the rest out.”

Without waiting for a response Arven ran down the descent towards the bridge. He kept his bow summoned for the time being as he noticed more pairs of red eyes emerging from behind the walls of the cavern and large stalagmites along the floor. A pair of the hounds noticed him, deep growls coming from their decayed heads.

Before they could warn anyone though each had another arrow through the heart or head. They dropped instantly. Seconds later and Arven was running across the bridge. His plated boots let out a loud clang as they struck stone making him cringe but thankfully the river underneath dulled most of the sound.

Soon they were both running alongside the outer wall of the fort, sprinting towards the entrance. Further up two vampires were standing outside the entrance to the gate. Somehow they hadn’t noticed Arven yet and he counted his blessings before moving to draw his bow once again.

Just as he was ready to shoot, he caught the sight of something in the corner of his vision. He came to a stop as fast as he could, his bow dissipating as he lost concentration while he ended up only feet away from a rune sketched into the ground. He managed to avoid it himself, but rocks and debris ended up being kicked from his boots, flying over the rune and disturbing it.

Shit!

Drawing his shield just in time he was deafened momentarily as the rune exploded, a pillar of fire shooting up into the air. Ears ringing, Arven stood up while drawing his sword to ready himself as the flames died down. The moment he did the two vampires he saw just before were upon him, one attacking with a hammer and the other with an axe.

Almost immediately Serana shot up into the air as mist trailed behind her. Her eyes were vibrant and sparks danced around her body before she shot off a powerful bolt of lightning in the direction of the magicka shield. Arven couldn’t see over the walls but he trusted her to save the priest, allowing him to focus on his current fight.

He stepped back, dodging the initial swings of his attackers before stepping back in and stabbing with Dawnbreaker to pierce through the stomach of one of the vampires. However, while he expected a cry of pain or at least the sound of flesh being burnt, nothing came.

Not vampires, thralls!

The man he stabbed didn’t even flinch, his mind under such a powerful spell that he was nothing more than an enslaved corpse to do his master’s bidding. The two thralls continued to attack, both swinging from either side as if trying to attack Arven from either flank.

Unable to free Dawnbreaker in time Arven let the weapon go, raising his shield to block the hammer coming from his left while grabbing the hand of the other thrall, stopping the axe in place. While thralls were dangerous, they lacked the strength of their masters. Squeezing down as tightly as he could he managed to crush the wrist of one, forcing the axe to fall free from the thralls’ grip.

The enslaved man pulled back, looking down at its disfigured hand with a blank expression while Arven turned to punch the other in the face. His gauntleted hand made direct contact, breaking the nose of the other thrall before the Imperial continued on to slam the rim of his shield into its mouth. He attacked with his shield again and again, continuing until the enslaved man dropped to the floor with a bloodied, mashed face.

By the time he had slain one, the other was upon him again. The thrall had no weapon and only one working hand but that didn’t stop it as it swung wildly. Each of its fists rebounded off of Arven’s shield, a sickening crack coming when the broken hand hit metal.

After each strike Arven shoved back with his shield, forcing the thrall further and further back until he made it stumble backwards. After pushing it off balance the Imperial lowered his shield and reached out, grasping his sword by the hilt to free it from the falling man. Two more steps forward and he rammed the blade into its skull, finishing it off.

Throughout the fight blasts of lightning continued to erupt above him on top of the fort, the occasional burst of energy flying well over his head. He trusted Serana to be fine but he still wanted to rush up there as quickly as he could.

After bursting through the front gates to the fort which had long since rotted away, Arven was immediately greeted by two arrows rushing to meet him. He’d assumed that everyone inside would’ve been distracted by Serana. He was wrong.

The first skimmed past his waist, rebounding off of the plate while the second buried itself into his left shoulder. The armour prevented it from piercing through his shoulder but it still sunk in deep enough to hurt. Gritting his teeth in pain he continued forward, running directly for the stairs. While the pain was distracting it wasn’t fatal, however a secondary effect slowly began to make itself known. His vision faded, the darkness once more filling his eyes as the only sources of light came from the glow of the magicka shield on top of the fort and the blasts of lightning being shot off from Serana.

Damn, that potion shouldn’t be running out yet!

Before he had more time to think, he needed to protect himself from any further volleys. Taking his helmet off Arven inhaled deeply before opening his jaw as widely as he could.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

Flames burst from his mouth, erupting in a blinding light that shot towards the two archers standing on top of the fort. Each one ducked for cover as the entire cavern was immediately illuminated, with two arrows heading towards Arven being burnt to a crisp within a second. The ground and even the stone around him caught fire providing some form of light as he continued on, rushing up the stairs with his sword drawn.

He quickly advanced upon the first vampire who managed to fire off one more arrow. Arven blocked it with his shield then bashed the vampire with a backhand, his shield knocking the bow free from the vampire’s hand. His shoulder ached as he used it but Arven did his best to ignore it as he slashed out with Dawnbreaker, burying it deep into the vampire’s neck. Instead of pushing the fresh corpse to the side he reached out to grab hold of the now dead vampire by the shirt, using it as a shield as he advanced forward. The other archer panicked, looking around for an avenue of escape. Unfortunately for her, one direction had Serana and the other had Arven.

Deciding to try her luck the vampire drew her sword and charged with a scream, aiming to pierce her blade through her comrade and directly into Arven’s gut. The Imperial was one step ahead of her. Arven threw the body as he got close enough, launching it forward to try and knock the vampire down from the weight of it. The vampire was too quick. As Arven prepared to strike with Dawnbreaker the vampire ducked to the side, dodging the corpse while spinning to strike with her sword aimed directly at Arven’s head.

Arven tried to raise his shield but pain shot through his arm, the arrow still lodged in deep. He couldn’t raise it in time and instead tried to pivot away from the blade. The metal caught his flesh, slicing through his cheek and the bridge of his nose, narrowly missing his eye by less than an inch. Not deep enough to cause permanent damage, but deep enough to hurt.

With a defiant growl he turned back and attacked with Dawnbreaker. The vampire managed to block the first strike, but Arven was too strong. He knocked her blade free from her hand and he struck again, this time severing her hand from her wrist. One more slice mimicked his injury in a more severe fashion, almost severing her nose while blinding her in one eye before he stabbed her cleanly through the skull.

Finally, the cavern fell silent, except for the sound of the Imperial struggling for breath. He looked around, only one eye open as the other was blinded by fresh blood. Serana stood some twenty meters away, next to the shield of magicka with a group of 5 or so corpses lying about her. Each one’s body was singed or charred. Serana herself seemed entirely fine.

The Vampire Lord turned to Arven with a proud, confident smile, yet her expression changed in an instant as she noticed the blood on his face.

“Arven!” She called out as she ran to him. Serana reached up with both hands, cupping his face gently while avoiding the fresh gash. “What happened?” She seemed legitimately concerned.

Arven just blinked, smiling to her. “I got a little cut? No big deal.”

“No big deal? You could’ve lost your head!”

Please, that’s a gross exaggeration.

Suddenly, Serana stepped back, keeping her hands to herself as she looked away.

What was that- oh. Blood.

Arven planted Dawnbreaker into the ground and dropped his shield before removing his gauntlet from his right hand. A part of him was angry at Serana, but he couldn’t blame her, really. After removing his gauntlet he started to work on the pauldron of his left shoulder. He first ripped the arrow out with a grunt of pain, then slowly removed his armour until his shoulder was bare.

“Oh god, you aren’t stripping again are you?” Serana asked.

“Very funny.” Arven placed his hand on his shoulder then let a gentle glow erupt from his hand. The restoration magic quickly sealed the wound, knitting flesh together. “I take it you didn’t have any issues?”

Serana shook her head. “Malkus tried to negotiate. I wasn’t in a talking mood.” She motioned over her shoulder to a corpse that was in terrible shape. One of its legs had been blown off and the entire figure had been burnt to a crisp by lightning. Arven cringed.

She’s a savage vampire. Nothing else.

He closed his eyes, fighting away the thoughts that came to mind. He had been just as brutal to the thralls, he reminded himself.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright.” After fixing his shoulder he moved to his face. It took a minute but soon the wound had been sealed with only the faintest of scars left as a reminder. Serana walked up to him once more, getting close and peering intently at his skin. She was only a few inches away.

”Can I help you?” Arven asked.

“Just seeing how good your restoration is. I wasn’t sure if that would leave a scar.”

“Don’t you have insane eyesight? Surely you could see that from where you were.”

“Yeah, but this way makes you more uncomfortable,” she said with a grin. “You’re okay, though? You didn’t get hurt anywhere else?”

Arven shook his head, causing Serana to smile. It was a strange feeling, having someone almost doting on him after a fight. Normally he’d be the one trying to find survivors, or treating the wounded. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

“Anyway,” he said. “Shall we talk to our priest?”

The two of them walked over to the magicka shield. Closer up, Arven could see a lone elderly man standing in the middle of the shield. Arven reached out with a finger and touched the shield only to be repelled instantly.

“Any idea how we get through?” He asked. Without responding Serana held up a strange stone, waving it in her hand before she walked over to a console-like device. After placing it in a socket, the shield disappeared.

“Just be careful approaching him,” she called out.

Arven nodded, walking over towards the man. The priest was breathing heavily, head down. He didn’t respond to Arven’s approach.

“Friend, are you alright? My name is Arven, I’m with th- “

Arven was cut off immediately as the priest raised his head with a horrible growl. The priest charged, a dagger drawn and aimed directly for Arven’s throat. The Imperial took half a step back and reached out to block the attack but the priest was suddenly stopped in his tracks, paralyzed.

Arven, blinked, confused. It wasn’t until he looked past the priest that he saw Serana standing with an extended hand, her eyes glaring at the priest as she did something.

Whatever she did seemed to work though. The priests’ eyes suddenly cleared up and Serana let him go, the man stumbling to the floor while coughing.

“That… wasn’t me,” he said in between ragged breaths. “I could see through my eyes, but I could not control my actions.”

Arven stepped forward and extended a hand. The priest caught it, using it to pull himself up. After standing the elderly man turned to face Serana.

“Thank you for breaking that foul vampire’s hold over me,” he said.

“Are you alright? They didn’t injure you?” Arven asked.

“I’m quite alright, thanks to you both. Dexion Evicus is my name. I’m a Moth Priest of the White Gold Tower.” The priest extended his hand and Arven took it as Serana walked back over to them both.

“I’m Arven, and this is Serana.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. These vampires claimed they had some purpose in store for me, but they wouldn’t say what. Probably holding me for ransom, the fools.”

Serana laughed at that.

“I know why the needed you,” Arven said. “We need you for the same purpose.”

The priest perked up. “Oh, you do? Alright then! No more mysteries.”

“I’m… We’re, members of the Dawnguard, and we need you to read an Elder Scroll.”

The priest’s eyes widened instantly. “You have an Elder Scroll? Remarkable! If my knowledge of history serves me, I recall that the Dawnguard was an ancient order of vampire hunters.” As he said that, he looked over to Serana. He was obviously confused.

Serana just shrugged.

“Well, I will be happy to assist you with your Elder Scroll. Just tell me where I need to go.”

“Do you know of Stendarr’s Beacon?” Arven asked.

“That I do.”

“We’re at Fort Dawnguard, it’s close by.”

“Very well. I’ll hurry on my way there before more of those vampires turn up.”

The priest nodded his thanks once more before turning back to the entrance of the cave.

“Hang on, you can travel with us if you’d like,” Arven said. “We’d be happy to escort you.”

The priest just shook his head. “That’s quite alright. I appreciate the sentiment, however there are some things I wish to take care of on the way. I’ll be at your Fort as quickly as I am able.”

With that, the priest set off, leaving Serana and Arven standing in the ruins of the fort surrounded by corpses of vampires.

“Do we have to go back to the Fort?” Serana asked.

“Yes…” Arven replied. Serana let out a groan.

She’s acting like a damn teenager.

“I can’t stand that place. Its wards make me feel awful, and everyone there gives me the most uncomfortable looks.”

“I can’t begin to imagine why.”

“Hey, do you want to take a quick break before we head off?” She asked. Serana had turned back to him, studying his face.

“I’m fine Serana, thank you.”

“Are you sure? You did just get stabbed in the face.” She had gotten closer to him again her brow furrowed as she looked him over.

“Just a scratch.”

Serana sighed. “A scratch, huh?” She shook her head, turning to the entrance of the cavern after she was satisfied that the Imperial was alright. “Just be more careful next time, okay? You had me worried. It’s a bit of a shock seeing you with blood all over your face.”

With that Serana began to walk back, heading towards the staircase to descend from the top of the fort. Meanwhile, Arven stood with a tight feeling in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. She seemed to be sincere in her worry for him, something which confused the man greatly.

He let out a deep breath.

Out of all the things to be concerned about now, this isn’t one of them.

Jogging for a moment to catch back up to Serana he walked along her side as they excited the cave, emerging back out into the open. The sun had finally breached the horizon, the light of dawn bathing over him. To his side Serana already had her hood on, recoiling from the direct sunlight.

“I’m going to clean up the ambush. Those soldiers don’t deserve to be left out there,” Arven said. “You should go on towards Dragon Bridge and rent an inn. I’ll catch up and we can get some rest, then head out at dusk again.

Serana turned to him. “I’ll help. My kind did that, I want to do what I can to help,” she responded. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you.”

She looked back to him, giving him a brilliant smile that made his heart stop. No matter anyone’s opinion of her, no sane person could deny her beauty.

“You’re very welcome, Arven.”

Notes:

Hello again! Back with another chapter. Apologies again for the delay, unfortunately I don't have as much time to work on this as I'd like to. I'll keep working away at it though, it may just be longer in between updates. I made this chapter slightly longer to hopefully compensate for the delay though. I hope you all like it!

Once again thank you for any feedback, bookmarks or kudos. I greatly enjoy hearing everything you all have to say!

Chapter 8: A Gift

Arven ran as fast as he could. His feet slammed down onto an uneven surface, rocks being kicked away from his feet with every step as the harsh sun bore down on him. He didn’t dare look back; he couldn’t even think about it. His mind was blank. All he could do was run.

That terrifying, brutal roar reached his ears once again. He started to run faster if such a thing was even possible. Even though he was exhausted, bloodied and bruised, he still managed to sprint faster than he ever had. If he had time to think, the warrior would’ve boiled it down to pure fear.

Eventually he slipped. His foot slid on some loose gravel and he came crashing to a halt, trying to roll his body in a way that didn’t end up with him impaling himself on the iron sword he carried.

The second he hit the ground he was scrambling to get to his feet once more, looking over his shoulder to see if there was any more distance between him and that monster. There wasn’t. His panicked expression grew into one of pure horror as he looked into the eyes of the dragon. That disgusting, unnatural beast that had slaughtered everything in its way. The dragon had arrows sticking out of its hide all over its body. A sword was lodged into its stomach and it limped heavily.

Right now, it couldn’t even fly. The beast was close to death but that didn’t stop it from chasing Arven down. He didn’t know why but for some reason it came for him before all else. Everything that got in its way was either thrown to the side or killed. Arven had watched it bite the head off of a soldier. Tear another in half. It even ate a soldier in full armour.

The entire squad that had been sent to investigate the tower was incapacitated, all except for Arven. A few lucky ones had been knocked unconscious, most had been killed.

“Get away from me! Get the fuck away!” Consumed by fear, Arven slashed out with his sword as he scrambled to his feet, continuing to run. You can’t outrun a dragon, though.

Moments after he had started to run once more a blinding, terrible pain shot through his back. The dragon had lunged out to bite at him. He managed to evade getting eaten but those fangs pierced his breastplate, tearing flesh from bone as three incredibly deep gouges mangled the man. Arven dropped to the floor with a cry as the dragon only managed to swallow his armor, the straps that kept the armour on breaking by some miracle to let him break free. Despite the horrid pain he tried to crawl away. That was brought to a halt as soon as the dragon bit down on his leg. He felt a fang pierce directly through his thigh before he was flung across the floor.

He wished for unconsciousness. At this point he even wished for death. He just wanted this horrific experience to be over. Somehow he held onto his consciousness, his own blood almost blinding him from cuts and scrapes all over his face as he struggled to watch the dragon approaching him. Arven was unable to move his legs by this point, with only his arms still having some strength left.

Eventually the dragon made its way to his body. The beast got close, moving in until its snout was only inches away from Arven’s face. It smelt terrible, the stench of blood and rotting flesh making Arven want to puke. The dragon made eye contact with Arven, staring into him. The beast was intelligent, that much was obvious from the way it moved. The way it studied him.

Unexpectedly, the beast spoke. “You are no Dovah.”

Then beast opened its mouth, its jaws parting to close down around Arven’s mangled torso.

No. Fuck this. Fuck this thing! I am not going to die to this beast!

Arven tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle from the blood resting in his mouth. He reached to his leg, feeling it in a distinctly unnatural position but he found what he needed. The imperial drew out a dagger, stabbing it directly into the roof of the dragon’s mouth. The beast howled. It wailed in pain as Arven struck again and again, trying to stab it as many times as possible before it withdrew.

Holding the dagger in place as the dragon pulled away, he managed to tear a long jagged line from the roof of its mouth to the front, blood pouring out. While alone it wasn’t a fatal blow, there was only so much damage the dragon could take. It limped away with a few slow steps until it stumbled, falling to the floor with a resounding crash. From the arrows and blades in its hide, now with the added strain of blood filling its mouth the beast finally succumbed to its wounds.

It laid only meters away from Arven with one piercing eye staring him down until it closed. Arven felt something as it died, but he couldn’t explain it. The warrior laid on his back, unable to catch the breath he so desperately needed as he felt a blackness rushing up to greet him.

Just as he was ready to close his eyes a powerful surge of strength flooded into him. He opened his eyes wide, turning to the dragon to see it disintegrating into a gorgeous array of lights. Arven had no way to describe what he saw. Flesh and tissue melted away until all that was left was bone, a swirling tempest of magicka being sucked into his body.

Moments later he heard the shouts of men in the distance. Turning his head over to one side he saw a group of soldiers, some fresh and one or two covered in blood and scrapes pointing to him. They all sprinted towards Arven, rushing to his aid.

Arven cried. It wasn’t from happiness, necessarily. He was just exhausted in every way possible, and all he could do was cry. Just as the soldiers reached him, a powerful, booming voice echoed across the entire landscape.

“Dovahkiin!”

___

Arven shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that ran through his mind over and over. The memory was an incredibly unpleasant one, but it never left him. He had built up a sweat as he dug graves for the soldiers who were killed in the ambush by the vampires. He was hoping that some labor would clear his mind, but the memories of the first dragon he fought rushed to him from nowhere.

Just as he was readying himself to lower the last soldier into his grave, Arven felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped turning around only to see Serana looking at him with an amused expression.

“Some warrior you are. You’re very easy to sneak up on, you know?” She said.

“Sorry. Was lost in thought,” Arven replied.

“I could tell,” Serana said. She studied him, peering into his eyes. He hated it when she did that. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, bad memories.”

Serana didn’t push the subject any further. Instead she gave Arven a hand, helping him to lower the last guard before shoveling the dirt over the body. Arven’s body felt sluggish but he pushed on, although Serana ended up doing most of the work.

By the time the graves had been completed and Arven was satisfied, he felt like he could pass out on the spot.

“Alright, let’s go. I’ve got a room booked at Dragon Bridge,” Serana said.

Arven nodded. The sun was high in the sky by this point, despite still being low on the horizon when he started to dig. Serana was wearing her hood like usual, her hands covered by gloves as she tried to avoid any direct sunlight.

The two started the short walk over to the town, walking side by side on the path.

“You sure took your time,” Arven said.

“Decided to have a nap,” Serana responded. Arven just looked over with an incredibly unimpressed look.

“I’m joking,” she continued. “I got questioned when I got there. The guards finally caught onto the attack.”

“You alright?”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” she said, even though she appreciated his concern. “They were really persistent. At first, they thought I was a thief and that I had something to do with it. By the time I convinced them I wasn’t, they were asking me to stay in town for the day so they could ‘watch over me’.” She scoffed.

Arven let out a brief laugh. “How kind of them. How could you possibly turn down such a generous offer?” Serana just rolled her eyes.

“By the time that was done, I just booked the room and came back here. Bad news, though.”

Arven just looked to her. He sighed internally, but at this point he was far too tired to really care.

“Only room left was a double bed. Looks like we’re sharing,” Serana said with an apologetic smile.

Arven had taken his helmet off earlier as he worked, and he now regretted it. As the helmet hung from to his waist, he felt heat rushing to his cheeks.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s fine.”

Serana just snorted. It was a very un-ladylike laugh, but it was cute in its own way. “I’m kidding. You’re so easy to stir up, it almost isn’t even fun.”

“Why do it, then?”

“I said almost. It’s still very, very fun.”

“You know, you must be the most talkative person I’ve ever travelled with,” Arven responded.

Serana’s eyed widened ever so slightly. “Oh, you’ve travelled with other people? Always figured you more as the loner type.” After speaking she recoiled slightly, raising her hands. “Not that it’s bad or anything! You just seem like you prefer your own space.”

Arven shrugged. She was right, after all. “I do, mostly. When I first found out what I am, I had jarls sending people to me to try and win my favour. They really didn’t take no for an answer.”

“Really? That seems… strange.”

“Well, some of them thought I was a kind of God, as stupid as that is. Either that or a descendant of the old Emperor. I can understand why they did it.”

Serana hummed to herself for a moment, thinking. “They wanted a God, and they ended up with you. How terrible.”

“You’re a mean person,” Arven responded. Serana just flashed him a smile.

“I’m lovely, thank you very much.”

”Anyway. Lydia was the only one I could tolerate for any period of time, and even then I just felt bad for her, putting her in danger so often. So, I just have her look after my house.”

“Oh please, I’m sure you loved having her around.”

Arven looked to Serana, obviously confused. “Not really. She’s nice, don’t get me wrong but I just felt awkward travelling with someone following me silently all the time.”

“Nice? She’s stunning, Arven.”

Arven thought about it for a moment. Serana had a point. Lydia was definitely attractive, he just never thought of her in that way.

“I wasn’t really in the best state of mind to even notice back then. I was a lot worse than I am now.”

Serana let out an inquisitive hum, her eyes studying him intently.

“Well, I guess that’s believable.”

Arven didn’t respond after that, and Serana didn’t press the matter any further. The two continued to walk towards the town in silence from then on out, a few minutes passing until Serana spoke up again.

“Hey, Arven,” she said.

He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Does travelling with me bother you?”

“Immensely,” he responded without hesitation. She punched him in the arm.

“No, seriously. I know you like to keep to yourself. Do I bother you?”

Arven went to respond, but he paused. He hadn’t ever thought about it. If he was to be honest with himself, he actually didn’t mind her company. The realization shocked him.

She’s a vampire. An exceptionally dangerous one, at that.  I really, really shouldn’t enjoy spending time with her. Is this okay?

“Okay, can you say something? Not saying anything at all is kind of putting me on edge,” Serana said.

“Sorry,” he replied after a pause. “No, you don’t bother me. I’m… glad, that I’m travelling with you.”

“Okay, no need to be a sarcastic ass,” she replied.

“No, I’m serious. You don’t know how to shut up, but it’s a good distraction. I feel less stressed when we talk.” Arven sighed to himself, reaching up to rub the amulet underneath his shirt. He knew she wasn’t charming him or placing him under any spell, but the doubt was always there.

“It’s… comforting,” he said. He couldn’t look her in the eyes as he admitted it. It was almost embarrassing in a way. He didn’t hear a response from Serana, instead she just nudged him with her shoulder. Turning to look at her she was simply looking forward with a sweet smile across her lips.

That was the last of their conversation before they reached the bridge leading into town. Before they crossed it, Serana stopped Arven.

“You might want to, well… clean up, before we head into town,” she said.

Arven blinked at her. “Why? I can do that when we’re in town.”

“You’re covered in blood and all of the guards would’ve heard of the attack by now.”

“Ah.”

Begrudgingly Arven walked over to the nearest stream while Serana remained by the side of the road. His armour wasn’t in too bad of a shape but his face still had some dried blood on his skin with even more matted in his hair. He was surprised that Serana hadn’t responded to it more.

Maybe she has, and I’m just too tired to notice.

After removing his armour he walked into the stream with his clothes still on. The Imperial submerged himself, running his hands through his hair to try and get as much of his blood out as possible. He spent a good few minutes bathing himself before he was satisfied that he wouldn’t draw too much attention.

The urge to stay in and rest on the side of the bank was strong, but a meal and a good bed would be far more helpful to him in his current state. He walked out of the water begrudgingly, using the same trick as he had many times before to dry himself off.

Just before he put his armour back on the man paused, an idea coming to his head. He opened up one of the small packs attached to his belt and picked out one of the empty bottles he carried. Then, he drew out his knife.

Minutes later and Arven emerged from the road freshly washed. He was far from clean, but it was a vast improvement from before.

The pair of them walked over the bridge, not passing a single person before they reached the other side where a pair of guards were stationed. They both lit up as Serana approached, but their expressions soured heavily when they turned to face Arven.

“Hold it right there, Dragon Bridge is closed while we run an investigation.”

Serana frowned. “You let me pass just an hour ago.”

One of the guards nodded. “Aye, that we did. We won’t turn away a woman in need of shelter, but this,” he continued while motioning to Arven. “An armed man appearing shortly after an attack, that we can’t allow.”

Serana went to speak, but Arven held a hand out to stop her. He approached the two guards who both tensed up, hands moving closer towards their belts. He didn’t mind complying when guards were simply doing their job, but the cocky, arrogant expression on one of their faces just irritated him immensely.

“I am Legate Arven of the Imperial Legion, thane of Solitude. I don’t have time for this.”

The two guards paused for a moment, until one laughed. “Hah! And I’m General Tullius! Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know.”

While the one guard laughed, sticking his chest out, realization dawned across the other guard’s face.

“Alen,” the guard said, “shut your damn mouth!”

Alen turned to face his friend, frowning. “You watch what you say Bjorn, I’m still your superi- “

“That’s the damn Dragonborn you fool!”

“What?”

“Look at his sword!” The guard immediately braced up, saluting Arven with an apologetic look strewn across his face. “My apologies, Legate! We didn’t recognize you at first.”

The other guard just looked confused, until he looked over Arven one more time and proceeded to almost pass out. He braced up as well, saluting, although he did so with the wrong hand. Arven approached the one who was denying them entry before, stopping only inches away from his face.

“I just buried the bodies of the soldiers who died while you were busy standing here conducting your investigation,” he said.

The guard didn’t respond. He was almost quivering with fear. There was the temptation to think of some punishment for the man, but Arven didn’t have it in him at the moment. He was just too tired.

Arven walked off, leaving the two men where they stood as he walked over to the inn while Serana jogged to catch back up.

“A Legate as well? Just how many titles do you have?” She asked.

Arven sighed. “However many people throw on me. It’s frustrating, mostly. Has it’s uses though.”

“He’s still standing there you know,” she said with a smirk as she looked over her shoulder. The arrogant guard was still standing in place, frozen. The other one was just shaking his head.

“Good.”

Once the two entered the inn Serana lead them directly to their room. She pulled out a key, twirling it on her index finger before unlocking the door. As she passed the inn-keeper she offered a smile and a nod, while the inn-keeper went off into another room in a slight hurry.

Arven was curious, but he didn’t speak. The room was similar to the one they’d stayed in back at Rorikstead, if not slightly bigger. The moment the door was closed behind him Arven kicked off his boots, collapsing on the bed with a long groan.

“Don’t you fall asleep just yet,” Serana said.

He managed to pull himself up with some considerable effort before looking at her. “You’re going to have to give me a very good reason for that.”

As if on queue there was a knock at the door. Arven frowned, but Serana quickly opened it to let in the inn-keeper. She was carrying a huge plate filled with food. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but there was enough meat, stew and fruit to satisfy Arven. There even seemed to be a pie of some sort.

His eyes lit up in a second, and as soon as it was placed down at the table he was digging in voraciously. There was a momentary pause to offer his thanks to the inn-keeper, who just laughed, before he was back to eating.

Arven didn’t even notice that Serana had slipped out of the room to talk with the other woman.

“Thank you for that, Faida,” Serana said.

The inn-keeper nodded. “You’re most welcome. Your husbands had a rough few days, looks like.”

Serana immediately shook her head. “Husband? No, no we’re not married. He’s just a friend.”

“Oh! Apologies my lady, I didn’t mean to assume. We do have spare rooms, and it looks like we’ll be having a quiet night what with the attack and all. You’re welcome to one of them if you’d like, no charge.”

“Ah!” Serana responded, somewhat lost for words. “That’s… very kind! But,” she trailed off, trying to think of a plausible experience.

“You want to watch over your friend?”

Serana resigned herself, nodding. “I do.”

The inn-keeper offered a motherly smile. “Well, you let me know if you need anything else. I’m here all day and night.”

Serana offered her thanks before returning to the room. Arven looked up as she entered, but only for a moment before he resumed his feast. He already had made a mess with his fingers covered in food.

“Ever used a fork?” She asked. Arven just grunted as he continued his feast.

Serana acted almost fed up with the way he was acting, but she was happy. It was nice to see him lively, even if it’s just with something so simple as eating.

After Arven had finished, almost demolishing the plate that could’ve fed a family he reclined back on his chair. With a lazy groan he reached for his bed, far too full and tired to move for the moment.

“Feel better now?” Serana asked with a coy smile as she sat up on her bed, legs crossed while she idly read a book.

“Much better,” he replied turning to face her. “Thank you for that.”

Serana’s smile grew slightly wider. “You didn’t even offer me any. How inconsiderate,” she said with a smirk.

Arven looked down to his plate. All that was left was some bones, some crust of the pie and the remnants of a stew. He actually felt guilty for a split second before realising that he was being toyed with. He turned to her, offering the most unimpressed look he could muster.

Serana giggled to herself.

“Actually,” Arven said, remembering something. He all of a sudden felt… silly.

I really hope this isn’t going to be awkward.

Serana responded with a curious hum, her book closed around a single finger to keep track of where she was. With an almost pained grunt Arven brought himself to his feet and walked over to his satchel, squatting down to ruffle through his belongings.

“Oh, did you get me a present?” Serana asked with a sarcastic tone as she leaned forward expectantly.

“Something like that,” Arven responded.

Serana’s expression changed to one of genuine surprise. “Wait, really? …Why?”

“It’s… not really a present.” With a sigh, Arven stood up with a bottle in his hand. He held it out before himself, while still keeping it close as if he wasn’t fully committed to giving it to her. It was a vial of his blood that he’d filled back at the stream.

Gods, this is awkward.

Serana just blinked at it, dumb-struck.

“I don’t want you to suffer out of consideration for me. I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you to go hungry. Especially if it means it’ll be harder for you defend yourself.”

Arven wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Not exactly. Part of it was out of consideration for Serana, much to his surprise. Some of it was out of a desire to keep her under check, so that she wasn’t a danger to anyone.

He was starting to hate the part of himself that didn’t still trust her.

Serana quietly stood up, placing her book down as she stepped over to him. She seemed shocked.

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking up at him.

Arven just nodded. Serana reached out to take the bottle, holding it in her hand. Then, suddenly, she hugged him.

Arven’s eyes went wide as he froze, his arms hanging awkwardly for a moment before he hesitantly wrapped them around her back. The second he did that Serana pulled away, the contact reminding her of what she was doing.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just…” Serana trailed off, refusing to make eye contact as her skin became flushed.

“Are you okay, Serana?” Arven asked.

“I’m fine, really. That’s… It’s just been a while since someone’s done something for me without an ulterior motive, you know? I can’t even remember the last time my parents did something for me that didn’t involve the damn scroll or their stupid feud.”

Without an ulterior motive, huh?

Arven felt a serious pang of guilt. He tried his best to suppress it.

“Sorry, again. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine. It was just a bit of a shock,” Arven replied.

Serana looked down at the bottle in her hand, smiling softly to herself. There was a faint hunger in her eyes, but nothing compared to what it had been when Arven cut himself on his helmet.

“If you need more, just ask.” Arven said.

“Thank you.”

Arven let out a deep sigh. Once the surprise had worn off the exhaustion was back. He walked over to his bed, collapsing on it before shifting about to get comfortable.

“Hey, Arven,” Serana said turning to face him. He was already asleep. She let out a quiet laugh, holding the bottle close to her chest. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, even though he could likely sleep through just about anything at this point, she returned to her bed.

“You’re far too nice to be a vampire hunter,” she softly muttered to herself.

Notes:

Hey! Back again sooner than I expected! A shorter update this time with no real action, just some added character interactions. Had a bit of free time recently so what better way to use it than to write! Hope you all enjoy reading it, and as always thank you to everyone who takes the time to read it, and a HUGE thank you to everyone who comments, leaves kudos etc.

Hope you all have a great day!

Chapter 9: Ambush

For once, Arven woke before Serana did. His eyes opened lazily, the dim moonlight entering through the window to illuminate the end of his bed. All the dull aches in his body were still there but they were more tolerable than the day before. He sat up and stretched with a satisfying crack coming from his upper back.

With a relaxed sigh he looked over towards Serana, opening his mouth to speak, but he stopped himself when he saw her sleeping. Seeing her asleep on a regular bed, curled up on her side with her chest slowly rising and falling make her look incredibly human. He’d never seen a vampire asleep before. Well, he had. It was just normally for the briefest moment after he opened their coffin to stab them, so he never really had time to observe them while they slept.

It was the first time he’d seen her wearing something other than he regular outfit as well. The woman’s cloak, jacket and other belongings were resting on a table in the room leaving her wearing a loose silk shirt and her trousers.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d just think she was a regular woman.

As he turned away a reflection caught his eye. He turned back to see the vial he’d given her before. It was half-empty.

Maybe that’s why she’s sleeping so soundly now.

A chill went through his body as the realisation that she’d just drunk his blood hit him, but he shook it off. It was a bit concerning how he’d become so comfortable with the presence of something so dangerous.

He quickly decided it was best not to linger on the fact, however he quickly found himself without anything to do. He didn’t want to make any noise, as he’d likely wake Serana instantly considering how good her senses are.

Wait. Why do I care if I wake her? That should be the last of my worries.

Despite his thoughts, he didn’t move. He simply remained sitting up on his bed, looking around idly for a good few minutes.

Well, this sucks.

“What are you doing?” Serana’s voice called out.

Arven jumped ever so slightly, exhaling as he turned over to look at Serana. “How long?”

“Hmm?” She responded. She was still lying on her side with her hair falling over her face, but her bright yellow eyes shone through her wine-coloured hair. It was hard to see, but there was a definite cheeky smile on her lips.

“You heard me,” Arven said.

“I woke up when you did, I think. You make a lot of noise.”

Arven let out an exaggerated sigh. “Last time I’m ever considerate for your sake.”

She grinned at him. “Still, I appreciate it.”

Serana sat up, stretching out as she did so with a slight yawn. Her shirt hugged against her figure as she did so, causing Arven to quickly turn away.

“So,” she said. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well, when you’re ready we start heading back to the Dawnguard.”

“That’s a very long walk.”

Arven nodded.

Serana let out a small groan, falling back to collapse onto her bed. As she did so her hair ended up in a tangled mess, obscuring her face. “Don’t you have a horse or something?”

Arven turned to her. “Why would I have a horse?”

“Didn’t one of those Jarls buy one for you? They damn near gave you everything else.”

“Actually… yeah,” Arven said. “I gave it back.”

Serana groaned once more.

“Why would you do that?

“They tend to run when they hear a dragon.”

Serana hummed to herself. She couldn’t think of a proper retort, Arven was right after all.

“It’s not that far,” Arven said.

“It’ll take days.”

“Oh, grow up.”

In response Serana rolled around, groaning while putting on an exaggerated show as she refused to leave the comfort of her bed.

“How old are you, again?” Arven asked.

The woman sat up, glaring at Arven through the stands of hair that fell over her face. She looked very cute.

“Fine, fine,” she relented. “You just enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Arven responded.

She just grumbled at him.

 “I can’t convince you to take a day off, can I?” She asked him.

Arven blinked, stuttering for a brief moment. “A… what?”

“A day off. You know, just relaxing. Not doing anything,” she said before waiting for a response. After one came, she continued. “Never had one of those before?”

“Never had the time,” Arven responded.

“That’s sort of sad, Arven,” Serana said, a sympathetic look on her face.

“If I take a day off, someone I might’ve been able to save could end up torn apart.”

She gave him a soft smile. “Well, after all this, when no one’s under any threat, I’m forcing you to take a day off.”

Arven rolled his eyes, avoiding a response.

I think I’d like that though, he thought to himself.

“Hey, about that,” Serana started. Arven looked to her, prompting her to continue. “How many dragons are there?” She asked.

Arven cringed ever so slightly, looking away. “I don’t really know. There shouldn’t be that many more.”

“Any reason why?”

“Well, something was bringing them back to life but that something is no longer around. So, there should be a finite supply of them.” As he spoke Serana sat up, bringing her legs up to her chest as she hugged them. Arven paused for a moment, slightly distracted.

“What was bringing them back to life?” Serana asked.

“Long story.”

Serana hummed to herself. She knew better than to push Arven on this topic, despite the curiosity eating at her. “Have you noticed there being less of them?” She continued.

“I… maybe? I haven’t really been paying attention recently,” Arven said.

“You know, you don’t seem to be affected by them as much recently.”

Arven frowned. He looked to Serana, studying her. He didn’t speak, so Serana continued.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like talking about it, but… the first time I brought it up could hear your heart beating like crazy.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Arven snapped back defensively.

“I know, but,” Serana sighed. “It doesn’t happen as much anymore. Hell, the other day you shouted just to play a prank on me.”

Arven exhaled deeply. “I thought that was you.”

Serana tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d been calming me.”

“What? No! Of course not!” She immediately responded. Arven just stared her down.

“I promise. The only time I’ve done that is after we fought the two dragons and you weren’t calming down. I’d never do something like that to you without your permission, or unless you were in danger,” Serana said. He locked eyes with him, and he tried his best to read her.

He felt like she wasn’t lying, but he couldn’t fully convince himself.

“If you haven’t, then… I don’t understand,” Arven said.

Serana shrugged. “That’s why I asked.”

Nothing has changed, he thought to himself. The only thing that’s changed, is that she’s with me now.

Arven shook his head.

Serana let her chin rest on her knees, pulling her legs closer. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I brought this up.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I can hear your heart-rate,” she responded, as if saying don’t you lie to me.

“Dealing with you is exhausting, that’s why.”

Serana pouted. She lowered her legs, sitting cross legged as she faced him. Her shirt was buttoned up, but as she leaned forward more of her pale, pristine skin was visible. Arven looked away.

“Why, because I can tell your heart-rate is still rising?” She asked, a playful grin on her face.

“Maybe it’s because you’re still in your undergarments.”

“Oh?” Serana’s grin only grew wider. She placed her arms behind her, leaning back as she purposefully stuck out her chest to have her shirt hug her figure. “Am I distracting you?”

Arven’s cheeks flushed red, and he stood up. “I’m getting some food.”

“Oh, come on, you’re no fun!”

______________

A few hours later and the pair were slowly making their way back to Fort Dawnguard. The entire way Serana had been humming an idle tune to herself, just loud enough so that Arven could hear it. He rather enjoyed it.

He found that he was oddly disappointed when she stopped.

“Hey, Arven,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know anything about Elder Scrolls?”

“That’s an odd question to ask.”

“Well… you spend so much time with something, you start getting curious about it,” she continued.

Arven just looked to her, raising a brow.

“Subtle. What else did you want to know about me?”

“No, seriously. I think I’ve grilled you enough recently. I’m really just curious about this thing I’ve been carrying around.”

“What makes you think I know anything about them?” Arven said. He still had the tune of Serana’s song running through his head, but the sound of his boots hitting the pavement interfered with it. He wanted her to keep going.

“You’re full of surprises. For all I know you’ve held one of these things before.”

“I mean…”

“…Seriously? What haven’t you done?”

“Figured out a way to get you to leave me alone.”

“Ouch,” Serana responded. “Where the hell did you get a scroll from?”

“It’s… a long story. Some old ruins. It helped teach me a shout, of all things. Not sure if you remember, but the one I used to ground the dragons we fought before.”

A moment of realisation came across Serana’s face. “I wondered how you did that. It just looked like you got really angry and they sort of gave up.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what happened,” Arven replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Serana flashed him a childish smile.

“All I know is that they’re heavier than they look,” he said.

“Are they?” Serana responded, shifting on the spot as if she was trying to gauge the weight of the scroll on her back.

“Seriously? You can’t feel the weight of that?”

Serana shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Just how strong are you?”

“Strong enough to beat you up,” she responded.

Arven sighed. Maybe it was better not to have an answer to that. It was easier to get along with her when he wasn’t conscious of just how dangerous she is. After he didn’t respond, it didn’t take long for Serana to start up her humming again. A gentle smile came to Arven’s lips as she did.

For the next few hours the two of them continued their walk, uninterrupted by anything or anyone else. Arven spent most of his time either enjoying the sky-lights or enjoying tune Serana was singing. Eventually the town of Rorikstead came up on the horizon.

They both decided that if they came across a carriage driver that they’d hire him to take them the rest of the way, on the one condition that it wasn’t the same driver as before.

Once they got to the town in the early hours of the morning, they came across the same driver as before.

“No,” Arven said.

“Oh, come on!” Serana replied, pouting. “We are not walking the entire way to Riften.”

“There’ll be another driver later on, you can survive walking for a bit longer.”

Serana grumbled at him. Then, she made a decision. Standing in front of Arven she concentrated for a moment before grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him towards the driver.

“Wait, hey! No! I do not want to talk to that guy again.”

“He won’t recognise you, it’s fine.”

Before Arven could complain any more, Serana had called out to the man waiting in an eerily still fashion on his carriage.

“You’re both up awful early. Looking for a lift?” The man responded.

“Yes, please. We’re hoping to go to Whiterun,” Serana said.

“Sure, climb in back and we’ll be off. Been itchin’ to get out of this town.”

Arven sighed, resigned to his fate as he climbed into the back of the carriage sitting opposite Serana. She just flashed him a bright, beautiful smile and he found it hard to say anything back.

“Why’s that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Serana said as she turned back to the driver.

“Now, ye’ ain’t going to believe this but this town was attacked by DRAGONS not too long ago!” The driver said, in the most animated voice that Arven had ever seen from someone in his profession.

Arven sunk back into his seat, groaning. Thankfully Serana had placed an illusion over him, making him look like a regular traveller.

 “Really?” Serana asked, playing the part of an innocent woman. “That sounds amazing! It would’ve been exciting, surely.”

The driver scoffed. “Exciting? Bah! Call it what you want, I’m just thankful I’ve still got my hide!”

“Did the guards scare them off?”

You’re enjoying this far too much, Serana, Arven thought. The entire time as she spoke to the driver, she was flashing him a cheeky grin.

“Now, this is where it gets even crazier. The Dragonborn was on my carriage!”

“No way!” Serana responded.

Kill me, Arven thought.

“He was! The man LEAPT off of my carriage and ran off to fight the dragons!” The man said, excitement leaping from his voice. “A bit too much of a thrill for me though, if I’m bein’ honest. Getting to old for these things now.”

“Say, what was he like?” Serana asked, directing a smile towards Arven as she continued to talk with the driver.

“Eh? Oh, the Dragonborn? He was, ah… an interestin’ fellow.”

Serana snorted. “Oh, how so?”

“He wasn’t really the chatty type. Honestly, I think he might’ve banged his head a few too many times. Somethin’ seemed off about him.”

Serana struggled to maintain her composure, a fit of laughter threatening to escape from her mouth as Arven reiterated his wish to die.

___________

Leaving early in the morning, the carriage finally had the walls of Whiterun in sight by the time that the sun was just starting to set. Arven and Serana had almost been up for an entire day yet neither seemed overly tired. As soon as he could Arven left the carriage, walking as far away from the dangerous duo behind him while Serana arranged to meet the man again at daybreak. She caught up to him quickly enough.

“Well, that was fun,” she said to him.

“You’re sleeping on the streets tonight,” Arven replied.

“Oh? You’re going to let someone as dangerous as myself roam your precious city?”

“My city? Didn’t know I was a Jarl.”

“Might as well be, considering how these people love you so.” As they walked up to the gate Serana removed the illusions she’d placed over them, both to get easier access into the city as well as to prove a point.

“That’s a big of an overstatement,” he replied.

“Good afternoon to you, thane!” A voice rang out from above, a guard standing on the walls who had spotted Arven only moments later.

Arven winced beneath his helm, but he raised a hand to return the greeting. The word seemingly got out quick and by the time the two reached the front gate two guards were standing at attention with the entrance to the city open.

“My Thane, welcome back,” one said. The guard was unfamiliar to Arven.

“Pleasure to be back. My thanks for the warm welcome, as always,” Arven responded.

The guard nodded. “Least we can do for you. Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

After they were out of ear-shot of the guards, Serana spoke up. “Just what did you do to become Thane here, anyway?”

Arven hesitated for a moment, but quickly decided there was no harm in telling her. “A little while ago, while the Civil War was still in full swing this city was attacked. I just helped them defend Whiterun.”

“Can I ask why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why you chose the side you did? You don’t have to answer, it’s just idle curiosity,” Serana said, telling a half-truth. She was mostly interested in getting to understand the warrior better.

Arven opened his mouth to speak, but paused. He wasn’t entirely sure, so he had to work out the best thing to say. “I… I could say I was just supporting the Empire. Makes sense being an Imperial and all.” Underneath his helmet he grimaced. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, remembering that day.

He tried to fight to defend as many people as he can. Killing other people, especially those fighting for their homes or doing what they believe is right, is something that he could never come to terms with.

“The Stormcloaks instigated the attack. They threatened to kill a lot of people to get what they want in support of their end-goal. I couldn’t just stand there and let a town get slaughtered, knowing civilians would be caught up in it.” After he spoke, he waited for a response as they walked. None came.

He turned to look at Serana, only to find her scanning the area around them. “Serana?”

She raised a finger as if to silence him before taking a step closer. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

They had been walking towards Arven’s house, a public road with plenty of people on it, most of them walking home. Long shadows were being cast by each house leaving most of the road out of the direct sunlight which was fading quickly.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked. Serana kept looking forward, her brow furrowed as she looked around them both. They were quiet for the moment with the sounds of footsteps and idle conversation filling the area. It was hard for Arven to look around, being in the middle of a crowd.

Serana moved closer to him to the point where they were standing shoulder to shoulder. He could tell she had become incredibly tense. He couldn’t feel a thing himself but he knew he’d be better off trusting her senses. They’d be much, much sharper than his own.

While struggling to look for the source of her concerns he found a robed man leaning up against the side of a building. There was nothing really suspicious about it, the man just seemed a little out of place. Until the hooded figure lifted his head. It made eye contact with Arven, blood-red eyes shining on its shadowed face.

Ah.

The vampire was too far away to be heard normally but somehow Arven could hear its voice reverberating in his head.

“Hello again. Meat.”

“Arven, move!” Serana suddenly shouted, shoving Arven to the side as she spun around with a hand outstretched. A blade appeared right where Arven’s back was a moment ago, seconds before Serana blasted a thrall away with a quick bolt of lightning.

The boom of Serana’s spell quickly sent most people into a panic. Many started to run away from the source while some other Nords drew weapons always at their hips, looking for the source of the commotion. A few people stood eerily still, simply staring at Arven. They had all snapped their attention towards him in the most eerie, unnatural motion possible. Then they all drew swords and charged.

Shit!

“Everyone! Stay back!” Calling out to the townsfolk around him Arven drew his sword, barely managing to get his shield off of his back in time to deflect the first strike from a thrall. He didn’t have time to look behind him but from the sounds of it Serana was busy fighting off some of her own.

The cries of townsfolk filled Arven’s ears as he charged directly at one thrall, smashing the attacker’s sword-hand away with his shield before swinging his blade to decapitate the enslaved man. He wasn’t going to take any chances with something that couldn’t feel pain.

Two more attackers appeared from the crowd, flanking him from either side. Each was surprisingly armoured, more than other thralls had been before. He blocked an attack from each, one with his shield and one parried with his sword. Then, in one swift motion he ran his blade through the chest of one, before inverting his grip, twisting on his feet and driving his sword through the skull of the thrall behind him just as the mindless attacker was readying another strike.

Armed as they were, a regular human was no match for Arven.

Yet instead of slumping down to the ground, all three thralls were standing up straight. Their arms were limp, dangling, but even the decapitated one stood before him. A second later and they all burst with destructive magicka, blood and gore assailing Arven from three sides. He tried to raise his shield in time but was forced back, and a second later another booming burst of energy filled his ears, this time as a bolt of lightning struck him directly in the chest.

He was shoved backwards, sliding on his feet while trying to maintain his balance. Shaking his head to try and regain vision through the blood staining his body, he looked up just in time to see Serana dash in front of him, raising her hand to deflect another burst of lightning from an unseen source.

Her mastery of destruction magic was so great that she could simply ‘catch’ the magicka before redirecting it elsewhere. If he wasn’t in the middle of a fight, Arven would’ve appreciated just how incredible that level of control was.

“Arven, you okay?” Serana spoke, still facing away from Arven towards the threat.

Arven nodded. “Fine.” He stood up straight, taking off his helmet and wiping the remaining gore from his eyes as he looked out to meet the gaze of two vampires standing a good 10 or so metres away. They weren’t moving.

He took a quick second to glance around him and saw no one else. No townsfolk, no other Nords, no corpses besides those of the thralls.

Thank the nine for that.

“Serana,” one of the vampires said. A Dunmer male. “Just as much of a traitor as your whore mother it seems.”

“Garan,” Serana responded. “I never really liked you. I’m going to enjoy tearing out your spine.”

Instead of responding Garan raised his hands, tendrils of shadows swarming around outstretched fingers. “You’ll never get the chance, my dear.” He turned to face Arven as he raised his hands higher, the tendrils reaching out and lashing onto the floor around him.

“You and that traitor bitch are going to die soon enough, meat! Along with everyone else in this city.” As he finished talking the magicks he had summoned had taken the form of portals, each shimmering in the shadows on the floor as a group of death hounds emerged out the darkness.

Arven dug his heels into the pavement beneath him, raising sword and shield to prepare himself to fend off the beasts. Instead of charging however the hounds merely snarled at him.

Garan turned to the animals. “Go,” he said as each turned off, running away from Arven and Serana. Towards where the townspeople had fled to.

“No…” Arven mumbled beneath his breath. He turned to Serana, a desperate plea on his face.

“No way. I am not leaving you,” Serana said.

“Serana, please.”

“No fucking chance! There’s no way I will-“

“SERANA!” Arven almost shouted. His eyes were pleading, a look of sorrow and despair in them. Serana almost choked up, looking back to the two vampires in front of them. Her apprehension came since she knew Garan. He was ancient. Strong.

“This is what they want. They want to drag me away from you. And they’re strong, they can blast through your wards like paper.”

“I know. But I’m faster,” Arven responded, trying to give her some level of comfort.

She leaned in close. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me.” Reluctantly she turned, dashing after the hounds to try and put an end to them before they could hurt anyone.

That left Arven alone with the two vampires.

“I just can’t wait to see the look on Lord Harkon’s face when I bring him your head,” the Dunmer called to him. “Especially after you dared to insult him in his own home.”

“Oh, were you there?” Arven called back. “Sorry if you got a bit singed.”

The Dunmer growled.  As he slowly approached Arven, the Imperial could see that parts of the vampire’s face were seriously burnt.

He must’ve been the one that got caught in the fires back at the castle.

“That we were. Harkon was tired of fledglings not giving him the results he wanted.” Garan stated. He extended his hand as he spoke, sparks of magicka surging in his open palm. “We’ll see if you can fight a proper Vampire without that bitch to protect you.”

They didn’t wait for a reply. But unfortunately for Arven, he wasn’t fighting only the two of them. He heard the crackling of magicka in the air just before a bolt of lightning struck him in the back, sending him sprawling forward.

Two more vampires had appeared from behind him, one with destruction magic swirling in her fingertips, while the other drew a blade and charged.

Arven cursed under his breath. No doubt they had waited for Serana to leave, and she wouldn’t have done so if she thought the threat to Arven was too high.

The second vampire near Garan also charged at him, an elven dagger raised high. Arven swung Dawnbreaker to parry the blade immediately while pivoting on his foot to catch the blade of the other vampire on his shield. Both his arms were met with jarring forces, the warrior gritting his teeth as he shoved them both back.

Strong, he thought. Not good.

As soon as he parried the attacks Arven felt his stamina draining within a second, his essence being pulled to the side. He turned his head to see Garan standing off to his left with an outstretched hand, draining his stamina and health. In response he raised his own hand, a clumsy ward forming that was just enough to stop the effects for now.

I need to get out of the open!

Where he was standing, Arven had absolutely no cover. He ducked as another blade swung for his head, but before he could counter attack he heard the crackling of magicka once more. He instead shoulder charged one of the melee attackers, rolling on the ground to obscure himself. He hoped that the vampire wouldn’t strike him with magic if there was a risk of friendly fire.

“Hold him down!” Garan called, venom in his voice.

The vampire Arven was grappling with bared their fangs, trying to bite at Arven in close proximity. In response, Arven placed a hand on the vampire’s face, forcing restoration magic to burst from his glove. The vampire hissed, immediately separating from the warrior which gave Arven enough time to stand.

As he stood he jumped back to dodge a dagger being thrust at his stomach. The next few seconds were a blur of him parrying and weaving, doing his best to avoid any damage as he looked for an opening. With two blades coming at him with high speed and accuracy, with skill honed over centuries of practice, it was all he could do to keep the vampires between him and the mages in an attempt to prevent more magic from coming his way.

One advantage he had was the vampires were not coordinated. They seemed to almost be getting in the way of each other, both wanting to be the one who killed him. Because of this their footing was uneven. Unstable. Eventually they both tried to attack at the same time, one of them twisting on the heel of their foot to try and stay upright.

Arven immediately rammed both vampires with his shield, blocking their attacks. One stayed upright, but the one with unsteady footing ended up falling backwards into the mud. With only one vampire in front of him, Arven then advanced with a few deadly strikes of his own blade.

His strength and the blinding light from the blade quickly allowed him to overpower the single vampire, and as the fanged beast went to block, Arven manoeuvred his blade and brought it down, severing the undead’s hand.

Unfortunately there was no time for Arven to relish in his minor victory, as while he had taken that opportunity he missed another vampire circling behind him to blast him in the back with another bolt of destructive lightning.

The momentum sent him forward, and he used that to tackle the now disarmed vampire to the ground. A second later and he had mounted the vampire, attempting to slam the edge of his shield into its face, yet before he could his opponent turned into a swarm of bats, flying up into the air to get away.

Garan turned, watching the bats with a scowl. “Coward! Get back and finish the mortal off!” He yelled.

That left Arven with three. The vampire who lost their balance was now back on their feet, charging at Arven. The imperial quickly stood up, darting to the side with one hand raised to form a ward, dodging a blade and absorbing more magic that left a jarring impact running up his arm. While a ward prevented damage, the force from the spell could still be felt.

“Grab him!” Garan shouted. A moment later and one vampire had grabbed onto Arven’s shield, trying to pry it free. Arven resisted, attempting to stab at the beast, however his shield was now getting between him and his target. Using his strength he tried to fling the vampire free, however just as he did he saw another destructive blast being prepared off in the distance.

How have they not run out of energy yet?

On instinct he raised his blade to block the attack, somehow managing to deflect the blast of lightning however the attack knocked Dawnbreaker right out of his hand. A second blast was coming and he was forced to summon a ward, pouring his magicka into it while still trying to wrestle his shield free from the other vampire.

Standing straight ahead, he then saw Garan summoning a storm of ice, his arms outstretched, veins popping on visible muscle as the vampire was surging with energy.

Arven knew he couldn’t let that hit him. If it did, he’d be in serious trouble. However, the determination of the remaining vampires was far greater than he realised. As they had an innate resistance to cold that he didn’t, the vampire behind him that was assaulting him with magic turned into a swarm of bats and appeared behind him.

Seconds later and the vampire had wrapped his arms around Arven’s body, one around his chest and the other around his free arm, leaving the Imperial with two of them now wrestling to hold him in place. He tried to pivot on his feet, attempting to fling one vampire with his shield before turning to force the other assailant to take the brunt of the storm. Unfortunately, the repeated blasts of lightning had drained his energy, and he was struggling to overpower them both.

“Time to die!” Garan yelled with an arrogant smirk. The vampire hissed before flinging the storm towards Arven. Tiny shards of ice, acting like daggers were flung with powerful winds right towards him, the ground beneath the storm freezing instantly as soon as it came into contact.

He pulled the attacker clinging to his shield to his front, trying to hide behind them. As soon as he did so, the vampire disengaged, retreating as they flew off in a swarm of bats. That only left one vampire behind him, however the storm of ice was approaching rapidly.

There was only one last thing Arven could do, opening his mouth and inhaling as he prepared to shout. Yet, before he could let the words out, a blinding pain emerged in his back. The attacker behind him had drawn a dagger, ramming it between Arven’s ribs, the cold metal removing any thoughts from Arven’s mind as he struggled to deal with the sudden pain.

That momentary shock was enough to shock Arven, his mind going blank seconds before he took the brunt of the ice storm face on. Shards of razor-sharp ice battered his armour, small enough to slide through gaps in the plate and cut his flesh.

Arven couldn’t even see due to the thickness of the storm. He felt the vampire behind him break off, fleeing while using Arven’s body as a shield, leaving the warrior alone in the middle of the blizzard. The force of it pushed him back. He struggled to raise his shield, but lacked the strength to fight the gale force winds, eventually resulting in him being forced back against a wall. He tried to shout once more, yet the icy cold winds were flooding into his lungs making it impossible to get any air.

Eventually the blizzard died down, Garan either running low on magicka or thinking that the damage done to Arven was sufficient. Once the winds settled Arven could see again, looking out at the four vampires standing in front of him. The vampire that had lost a hand from Dawnbreaker had now returned, his face turned into a scowl.

“Go, finish him off. I tire of listening to him struggling to breathe,” Garan spat as he stood in place, arms folded. The three vampires began to approach Arven once more. The warrior wasn’t done just yet, however.

As the three vampires approached one kicked Dawnbreaker off to the side. The centre vampire conjured a wicked bound dagger in his hand, raising it up to bring down upon the weakened Arven. But despite being weakened, he still had fight in him.

Arven summoned a blade of his own, parrying the attack and striking out with a kick directly into the vampire’s chest. He felt the magicka in the air coming from another angle, ducking instinctively to dodge a blast of lightning, yet he was too slow and took the full force of the magicka.

As soon as he was knocked back, he was pinned to the wall by two of the beasts. Each of them had a hand on Arven’s arms and shoulders, shoving him back violently as the Imperial struggled to fight them off.

“You’re going to fucking pay for taking my hand,” the vampire said. Arven clenched his right fist, trying to pool as much magicka as he could to do something, but before he could the vampire ripped off his helmet and back-handed Arven, stunning the man just before Arven felt fangs and teeth sink into his neck.

This time, he screamed. His voice echoed through the town as his warm blood spilt all over his neck and collarbone while the vampire feasted, parts of his neck having been torn open.

He felt his vision fading but he could see Garan walking towards him, hands folded behind his back with a look of satisfaction. “I told you, didn’t I? You’re nothing.”

I’m not dead yet you asshole.

With the last of his strength Arven took hold of the two vampires pinning him to the wall, grabbing onto their arms in return.

“You can’t kill me that easily,” he said. Then, Arven started to glow. Restorative magics burst from his body, an aura of holy energy swirling around him in a tempest that seemed to create a spherical shield around him. It was a spell Isran had taught him, he just never used it since it left him so drained.

As he channelled the spell Garan stepped back, shielding his eyes. The vampire feasting on Arven took a few steps back to escape the magic, shrieking as they fell to the floor, clutching at their face. The two vampires Arven held, however, didn’t have that luxury. The magicka burnt at their skin while they struggled to pull away, acting as if the undead creatures were stuck in the middle of a raging fire as their flesh gave way. At the same time Arven’s wounds slowly began to heal, skin knitting together as the bleeding came to a stop.

While the shrieks and screams of the vampires filled Arven’s ears, he watched as Garan stared at him with pure hatred.

The two vampires Arven held eventually disintegrated, turning into ash as their screams died out. Arven tried to continue to channel the spell, his wounds slowly healing, but his magicka reserves gave out. Yet he didn’t stop. He took a few shaky steps forward, closing back in on the attacker that had bit his neck. He had no weapon, and no magicka left to summon one, yet he continued forward.

Kneeling above the cowering vampire, Arven clenched his fist and brought it down on the vampire’s head. He struck the beast over and over, until the shrieking finally ceased. Garan simply watched. Before him stood a mortal, a human. Yet the human was utterly terrifying. With cuts all over his body, battered and bruised and blood almost pouring out of a partially healed wound on his neck, Arven looked like absolute death.

Yet the thoroughly battered Imperial had just killed three vampires, one with his bare hands. And now he was staring Garan down despite having absolutely no stamina or magicka left in him.

“It seems I must do everything myself,” Garan finally muttered after watching the display with disappointment and disgust, trying to hide the concern he felt. He raised a hand, pooling even more magicka in the form of violent destruction magic.

Despite an overwhelming desire to kill the remaining fiend, Arven’s strength finally gave out. He collapsed onto his knees, his body sagging as the warrior was unable to climb back to his feet. Yet he still looked up, staring Garan in the eyes.

“Get ready to die, meat,” the vampire hissed.

“Fuck. You,” Arven spat in return. He watched as Garan readied to unleash the huge amount of magicka in between his palms. Before anything could happen with it though he was knocked to the side by a thundering blast, Serana having finally returned.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Serana said in a voice that would’ve chilled Arven to the core if he could hear it. Serana advanced on Garan again, overpowering him within seconds with her destruction magic before the other vampire was forced to turn and flee, turning into a cloud of mist that evaporated on the winds.

Serana watched as the vampire fled outside of city walls and went to follow but immediately stopped herself, turning back to Arven. Her eyes went wide when she saw him.

Arven let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, looking to the ground as he steadied himself, one palm pressing into the dirt to stop himself from collapsing. He was in rough shape. While the spell healed some damage there were still puncture marks in his neck with fresh blood staining his skin and his chestplate.

“Arven!” Serana ran over to him. She helped him to his feet before immediately pulling him into a hug, holding him close. “Oh gods, I heard you scream from the other side of the city. Please tell me you’re alright.”

Standing behind Serana Arven found Lydia. She had her blade drawn with fresh blood painting most of it. She was panting heavily.

“I’m okay. Is everyone alright?” Arven asked.

Serana pulled away, looking him in the eyes. Her eyes glistened.

“What do you mean?”

“Did anyone die? Did the hounds get anyone?”

“No,” Lydia said. “We found more thralls, but no one died. Some people got injured but thanks to the companions stepping in, and especially thanks to your friend, everyone is alright my Thane.”

This time, Arven pulled Serana close. He wrapped one hand around her waist and placed the other on the back of her head as he collapsed against her from exhaustion. “Thank you,” he said.

She held him close for a moment. It was one of the first times, if not the first time that someone had ever held her like that. At least as far as she could remember. Over time it moved more from a hug to Arven relying on her to stand, being unable to support his own weight.

Reluctantly Serana grabbed him by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “You’re not dying on me, are you?” She said with a half-cocked smile.

He returned the smile, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He then turned to Lydia. “Hey, Lydia. Got any magicka potions on you by any chance?”

She nodded and walked over, reaching into her back pocket to bring out a small vial of blue liquid. Arven accepted it and skulled it within a few seconds, sighing with relief before stepping away from Serana. He took in a deep breath and every wound on his body began to softly glow with a golden light. He burnt through all that magicka within a moment but he felt much better after.

“Do you need to see a priest?” Lydia asked. She seemed almost as concerned as Serana.

Arven just waved his hand dismissively. “No, I’m okay. I’m sure they’re busy enough already.”

“Alright. I’m going to go see if anyone else needs some help,” Lydia said before she turned, jogging off towards the centre of the town.

“So, can you walk or am I carrying you back home?” Serana asked as she folded her arms, giving Arven an amused look.

“I think I’d rather crawl back,” he replied. He took a step, but the second he did his knee buckled and he reached out for a nearby wall to steady himself. Before he could even process her moving Serana had positioned herself underneath one of his arms, lifting him up and helping him walk home.

She made it look effortless as she supported almost all of his weight.

“I told you I’m fine, didn’t I?” Arven said. He felt like an idiot saying it, but he couldn’t stop his pride from poking it’s head out.

“I know. Just humour me,” Serana replied.

__________

On the way to Arven’s house they’d picked up his sword and the second they walked through the door Arven stumbled over to a closet, pulling out a potion to cleanse him of any diseases. Chances are he had early stages of Sanguinare Vampiris and that is the last thing he wanted.

“Stay there for a moment,” Serana said as she walked off into another room. Arven was happy to comply, relaxing back in a chair that he’d have to clean later as it was quickly stained with grime and blood. In the other room Serana rushed to draw out a vial from a satchel around her waist. She held the vial of Arven’s blood in her hand, almost shaking as she ripped out the cork and downed its contents. Her shaking stopped immediately.

Stupid girl, she thought. He’s hurt and you can barely control yourself.

Normally she would’ve left some blood in the vial for an emergency but she needed to be fully sated for what she had in mind.

Arven almost fell asleep by the time Serana came back out a few minutes later.

“Come on, up you get,” she said as she reached down to grab his forearm, helping him to his feet. She basically guided him through his own house into a room with a wooden bathtub, filled to the brim with almost steaming water.

“What…” Arven cut himself off as he just didn’t know what to say.

“You need to clean your wounds,” Serana said as she stood off to his side, arms folded. “They’ll fester. You can’t just go to sleep.”

“Wrong. I can go to sleep. It might just not be the best idea,” he responded.

“Oh good, if you’ve got enough energy to be sassy then you can look after yourself,” she responded.

Arven grumbled to himself but he resigned, starting to remove his armour. He managed for a moment, but after taking off a pauldron he staggered to the side from being off balance. Immediately Serana caught him.

“You’re helpless,” she said before she started to help him. Arven opened his mouth to say something, but in an incredible moment of wisdom he decided not to as Serana un-clasped the many buckles to get his chest-plate off.

“Damn thing is far too complicated, should just go without,” she mumbled.

“Not all of us are as strong as you are. Armour is sort of a necessity.”

After all of his armour had been removed Arven took off his shirt and pants, leaving him in his undergarments. He was far too tired for any modesty.

“Thanks, Serana,” he said before taking a step towards the bath. However, Serana stopped him. He looked back at her with a quizzical look.

“You can’t just get in while you’re covered in blood and dirt. You’ll dirty the water,” she said to him.

“So… what am I doing, then?” He responded.

With a gentle sigh, Serana picked up a clean cloth and a bucket. Filling the bucket with water from the bath she soaked the cloth, standing in front of Arven. The warrior just stood there, stunned.

“Any snide remarks and I’ll zap you. Or worse,” she said. Then, she started to wipe the grime from his body.

Despite his armour and clothing, having a thrall explode in front of him before being stabbed and bitten left Arven as a bit of a mess. As gently as she could, Serana ran the cloth across the wounds that had been sealed by his magicks but could still be seen, not having fully healed yet. Each time she passed over a wound he winced slightly, but didn’t pull away.

Neither of them said a word, or made a sound. All they could hear was water being drained from the cloth back into the bucket whenever Serana went to clean it. By the time she made it to his neck she looked sorrowful as she inspected the bite mark. Her touch was incredibly gentle, with a unique contrast between the coldness of her skin and the warmth coming from the cloth.

After she was satisfied that he wasn’t going to get any infections she hesitated, a hand resting on his chest as she had a close look at every scar on his body. She couldn’t even count them all.

“Serana,” Arven said softly.

“Alright, get in,” Serana said, clearing her head. Arven nodded and walked over to the bath, holding onto the sides and tipping a toe in. He immediately drew it back. “Shit, that’s hot.”

“What, never had a hot bath before?” Serana asked.

“Don’t think so,” he replied.

Serana almost looked shocked. “Oh, you’ve missing out. Just try not to drown.”

Arven nodded as he ever so slowly lowered a leg, then his body into the bath. A long, content sigh came from him as he was submerged up to his neck.

“Oh,” he said. “This is good.”

Serana offered him a smile as she turned around, leaving the room. “Call if you need anything, alright?”

After she left Arven closed his eyes, head relaxing against the back of the bathtub. He didn’t bother to try and clean himself any further, he just enjoyed the warmth of the water. When his mind began to wander, he realised that less than an hour prior he had been fighting, and losing against two very strong, pissed off vampires.

Now, he was safe and content. There was an obvious reason for that.

While he relaxed Serana had taken a seat in the main sitting room, having found another book to occupy her attention as she sat cross legged on a chair. She quickly lost track of time and by the time she’d finished a chapter, it dawned on her that she hadn’t heard Arven say a word. Closing the book she walked back into the bathroom, peering in to see the warrior soundly asleep.

Arven had passed out, arms hanging over the edge of the bath. Thankfully, he hadn’t sunk in and drowned.

Serana walked over, kneeling down beside the tub to fold her arms along the rim, resting her head on the makeshift pillow she formed. She studied him, her eyes watching the relaxed expression on his face that she only ever got to see as he slept.

The man amazed Serana. She hardly ever left her home as a child, so all of her social experience was primarily based around talking to two manipulative parents, and other vampires who were subjects of said parents. Talking to a man who wanted to kill her the second he found out what she was fascinated him.

At first, she found it amusing and saw him almost like an angry child. She didn’t feel threatened by him. She didn’t feel threatened by anyone, except her father. That changed once she found out what he was, and that fascinated her even more.

Now, she felt guilty for the way she treated him the first time they met. Most of that guilt came from how much she seemed to care for him now. It was the last thing she’d expected, but once she thought about it, it started to make sense. He was the first one to ever treat her like a person, not a pawn in some twisted game.

Sure, his initial hatred for her as a vampire made her distant, but somehow that quickly turned away. The fact that he was now willing to fight his hatred and let her feed from him stunned her.

“Hey,” she said, dipping a finger into the water to flick it at Arven. The man grumbled as he woke, eyes slowly lifting to inquisitively stare at her.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to knock?” He asked. “Better yet, has anyone ever explained the meaning of privacy to you?”

“Don’t fall asleep in the bath, idiot,” Serana responded.

Arven grunted. He didn’t really have a retort to that.

“Out you get, you need some sleep,” she said as she stood up.

Arven didn’t move.

“Everything alright?” She asked.

“…It’s cold, though,” he said back to her.

Serana snorted. “Who’s acting like the child now?” She said before leaving the room.

Arven grumbled as he rose. His body was slightly stiff, which wasn’t a surprise, but the bath definitely left him feeling better. After rummaging through a room nearby to find a clean shirt and pants he walked up to his room, taking his stairs one step at a time while almost pulling himself up by the hand railing. Once he entered his bedroom he saw Serana sitting on a chair in the corner.

“Uhh,” Arven mumbled to himself. Serana looked up over her book with a smile.

“What’s up?”

“Just, you know,” Arven stumbled over his words, primarily due to his exhaustion. He pointed to his bed, then held up a single digit.

“I’m not going to sleep just yet, and when I do, I’ll go to the guest room. Don’t worry,” she assured him.

“But,” Arven started to say, before he was cut off.

“Just humour me,” she said with a sweet smile.

Arven shrugged. He walked over to his bed, collapsed and crawled under the covers. A few seconds later and he was asleep.

Serana put her book down, watching over him for just a minute. She could see the fresh scars on his neck. It was hard to miss, and she sincerely hoped that they’d fade for his sake.

I’m not letting you out of my sight again, she thought. Not until this is over.

Notes:

And I'm back! Apologies for another delay, haven't had as much time recently to write, and I got my ass kicked around by writer's block for a little while. As always, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy! And a big thank you to everyone who leaves kudos or a review. I always love reading what you guys have to say!

 

And here's the updated fight. Hopefully it makes Arven feel more like a threat and a Dragonborn, even a reluctant one still at this stage. Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Mutual Understanding

“What do you mean, we ain’t leaving until later?” Said the caravan driver. He sat on the same spot he always does, arms crossed as he peered down at Serana.

“Like I said, something came up. Sorry,” Serana replied. Her voice was dry, as if she was forcing herself through the conversation.

“Sorry, but I’m not holding out for you two. I’m not just gonna’ wait when I could be makin’ money,” the driver continued.

Serana furrowed her brow. She really, really wanted to just place him in a trance until they needed him but surprisingly, she felt a pang of guilt at the idea. She knew exactly who to blame for that.

“Fine, just… Here,” she said, throwing a few gold coins towards the driver. “Don’t take on anyone else.”

The driver caught the coins in one hand, counting them out onto his palm before stashing them away. “And how do you know I won’t just leave now you’ve already paid?”

In response, Serana stared at him. She wasn’t going to manipulate him but she felt far less guilty about scaring him just a little. As soon as she made eye contact the driver jolted, his eyes going wide as he seemed to back into the seat of his caravan some more.

“I’ll, uh,” the driver started, clearing his throat. “I’ll be here, miss.”

“Good,” Serana replied before turning off to walk back towards the gates. She tugged on her hood, the morning sun beating down on her with enough intensity to make her rather uncomfortable. She walked with arms folded, trying her best not to draw any undue attention to herself. That was a surprisingly hard task after the events of last night.

Apparently, people in Whiterun were quite adept at gossiping.

As she reached the gates the two guards stationed on duty gave way to her without question. On her way out they’d both thanked her for her assistance in defending the town against the vampire attack. One of them had continued to talk about a vampire attack they’d witnessed in a smaller town, about how the people there weren’t so lucky to have someone defend them.

The entire conversation had made Serana incredibly uncomfortable and she could offer nothing but a nod as she walked past. There was a small, tiny hint of satisfaction as she was thanked and liked by the townspeople who knew of her, but it just felt wrong.

This isn’t who you are, she thought to herself. You’re not some hero.

After passing back through the gates she decided to blend in a little more, taking on the appearance to those around her of just another townsperson making their way through the streets. Now that the sun was rising proper, wearing a hood as she did drew too much attention.

She found herself itching to get back to Breezehome, back where she could relax. Well, mostly relax. She had stumbled into Lydia the night prior as she left Arven’s room, after she was satisfied that he was sleeping soundly.

Their conversation was awkward and she knew there was a serious misunderstanding as to why she was in there with him. She just didn’t have it in herself to explain things after everything that had happened.

By the time she saw Breezehome, she couldn’t help but notice someone else walking directly for Arven’s house.

Surely not, she thought.

As she got closer she kept an eye on the other person, and it only took a few more moments to confirm that the stranger did in fact have the same destination she did. They both reached the door at the same time. As they arrived, they stared at each other.

“Sorry, can I help you?” Serana asked in a kind, yet fake tone.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the other person replied. She was a Dunmer woman, an uncommon sight in Whiterun.

“I’m sorry but, I don’t quite follow,” Serana said as the forced sweetness in her tone took on a sarcastic edge. She stepped in front of the door. “Are you sure you’re at the right house?”

The Dunmer looked very, very unimpressed and just a little bit angry as her brow furrowed deeply.

“You’d best mind-“ the Dunmer started to talk, but she cut herself off. “Ah. You must be the woman that helped him,” she continued.

“That is what they call me,” Serana dead-panned. “And who are you, exactly?”

“Irileth,” the Dunmer responded. Irileth paused, as if waiting for a response before begrudgingly continuing. “Housecarl to the Jarl of Whiterun.”

“Congratulations,” Serana said. She could tell she was getting on Irileth’s nerves severely, and she just couldn’t help but provoke the woman. “I don’t think the Jarl is in right now, though.”

Irileth’s face seethed with frustration. “Tell the Dragonborn to meet the Jarl at his earliest convenience,” she said through grated teeth.”

Serana folded her arms. “Arven is indisposed,” she said.

“I’m sure he can manage a visit,”

“He’s currently recovering from being stabbed and bitten. I don’t think he can,” Serana continued.

Irileth took a step closer. “Were he any other man I’d accept that, but he isn’t. The Jarl expects to see him by midday.”

Serana didn’t respond. Instead, she just stared directly into Irileth’s eyes. The Housecarl paused for a moment, taking a cautious step back before forcing herself to stand upright. “I trust you’ll let him know,” she said. Then, she took her leave.

Serana let out a deep breath.

I can see why he doesn’t spend much time here, she thought.

After Irileth was out of earshot Serana turned around and walked back into Breezehome. She was expecting that she’d need to wake Arven, but instead she saw him sitting on a chair in the living room shovelling down food.

He froze like a deer in headlights the moment she saw him, a spoon half-raised towards his mouth.

“Feeling better?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Arven replied. “Pretty hungry though.”

“I never would’ve guessed.” She shook her head before walking over to him. “Stand up,” she said.

Arven looked down to his bowl of food, then back at her. “Can it wait?”

“No.”

Arven sighed. He placed his bowl down on the floor to his side before standing up, looking down at Serana. As he did so she took off her hood, letting her hair flow out, fringe partially covering her features. As soon as she did so he felt a lump form in his throat as he was reminded once more of just how stunningly attractive she was.

His heart-rate rose ever so slightly and he could’ve sworn that he saw the smallest hints of a smile on Serana’s lips.

“Stay still,” she said as she reached out to grab hold of his chin, lifting it up as she inspected his neck. It had almost fully healed, but deep scars had formed where the vampire’s fangs had pierced his skin. Her expression dampened slightly as she noticed.

“I’m fine, Serana,” Arven said.

After being satisfied that it was healing sufficiently well, she then reached down to pull up his shirt, intending on inspecting the wound where he had been stabbed. Arven stopped her, his hands moving to her wrists to hold them in place.

As she was stopped Serana looked up at him, frowning.

“I’m fine,” Arven repeated.

She hesitated, deciding if she wanted to push the matter but eventually, she relented.

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to continually check up on me,” Arven said as he sat back down to continue eating.

“You say that, but this is, what, the third time you’ve been seriously injured since we’ve met? Fourth?” Serana replied as she took a few steps back, leaning up against a wall opposite Arven.

“That’s normal,” he replied.

“It really shouldn’t be.”

“Hey, I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“And what a miracle that is,” Serana said. She continued to inspect him from afar, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain. He seemed fine but she knew him well enough that he could just be acting for her sake.

 A lingering voice in the back of her mind berated her for being so doting on him, yet she couldn’t help it. Serana felt a direct guilt anytime Arven got injured. The way she saw it, he was trying to fix problems her family had caused. That made her responsible.

Not to mention, her heart ached whenever she saw him in pain.

Before long, she found herself staring. Arven had noticed.

“Does my peasant-like way of eating offend you, my lady?” Arven asked with a mouth-full of food.

“I’m sorry, what?” Serana asked as she shook herself out of a daze.

“You’re sort of staring.”

“And you’re sort of a smart-ass.”

“Took you long enough to figure that one out.”

Serana rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to think I enjoyed your company more when you were just a sarcastic ass.”

“I can easily go back to that if you’d like,” Arven replied. “My lady.”

Serana grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a book. She threw it at him.

“Oh, by the way,” Serana started as she walked off towards her room. “Jarl wants to see you. You’ve got an hour or so.”

“Wait, what?” Arven called out after her.

Serana smirked to herself as she walked back into her room. As she started to gather her things, she spotted the vial she had drunk from the night before. It had been filled to the brim once more with Arven’s blood.

___________

“Ah, Dragonborn!” Balgruuf said as he stood from his chair, a wide grin on his face. “It pleases me to see you again.”

Just under an hour later Serana and Arven had made their way to Dragonsreach in response to the Jarl’s summons. Arven didn’t want to go for various reasons, but he had come to respect Balgruuf more than the other Jarl’s.

“Good to see you as well, Balgruuf,” Arven replied. He couldn’t help but notice Irileth tense up when he used the Jarl’s name, rather than title.

The Jarl stepped out to clasp his hand onto Arven’s forearm in a rough greeting. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon! I thought I told Irileth midday.”

Arven couldn’t offer anything but a shrug, but as soon as the Jarl turned away for a second Arven looked behind him to stare daggers at Serana.

Serana just winked at him.

“If only you came at more peaceful times.” The Jarl said. “I feel as if the only time I see you is when there’s trouble about.”

Arven shrugged in response. “I suppose I’m cursed.”

The Jarl barked a laugh. “Hah, perhaps! Or perhaps you’re just blessed to live an adventurous life.”

As the two men spoke, Serana and Irileth were both glaring daggers at the other.

“So. First dragons, now vampires. Can’t seem to catch a break, can we my friend?” The jarl said.

Arven nodded. “Seems that way.”

“I’m just fortunate to have had you here when they attacked,” Balgruuf replied as he clapped Arven on the shoulder.

The Imperial felt a small twinge of guilt. Guilt that would’ve been severely magnified if anyone had died the night before.

“Not as lucky as you might think,” Arven said. “They were chasing me. I’m afraid I endangered your town by coming here.”

“You what?” Irileth snapped.

“Irileth!” The Jarl immediately said, turning to face the Dunmer. Irileth didn’t continue to speak, but she was struggling to keep her anger hidden. Arven never got along with the woman but he couldn’t fault her loyalty to Whiterun.

“What do you mean, Arven?” The Jarl asked.

“I’m… investigating, something to do with vampires,” Arven began as he tried to think of how much information to divulge. “There’s a group of them near Solitude causing trouble, with the potential to do a lot of harm if I don’t do something first.”

“So they followed you here to try and stop you?” The Jarl asked.

Arven nodded.

Balgruuf turned back around, sitting down in his chair as he rested his chin on his fist.

“You have my sincere apologies,” Arven said as he bowed his head. Serana remained silent the entire time, but she felt as if she should be the one apologising.

“Nonsense,” Balgruuf said.

Arven perked up his head at that, a look of slight confusing on his face.

“Pardon?” He asked.

“Never apologise for returning to your home, Imperial. We’re fortunate to have you call our city your home. I’m not going to have you feeling guilt for something you didn’t intend, especially when you risked your life to correct it.” The Jarl had a deadly serious look on his face when he spoke, as if he was offended at the idea of Arven apologising to him.

Arven nodded. He went to offer thanks, but stopped himself. It wouldn’t be appropriate.

“So, vampires.” Balgruuf said, exhaling. “Nasty things.”

“Tell me about it,” Arven replied as he tilted his head to one side, making the scar on his neck more prominent. He didn’t notice, but Serana shrunk back ever so slightly at his response.

“How in the hells are you standing after taking a beating like that less than a day ago?”

Arven shrugged. “Perks of being young, I guess.”

The Jarl barked another laugh. “You better not be implying something there! I could still beat you out of Dragonsreach with one hand tied.”

“You could, or Irileth could?” Arven asked. The Jarl laughed again.

After, Balgruuf turned to Serana. “Ah! I’ve forgotten my manners. I’ve heard tales of your own bravery in protecting my city, my lady.”

Serana stepped forward. She had taken her hood off after walking in and wasn’t making an effort to disguise herself, bar from hiding her fangs and yellow eyes. “Serana. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jarl Balgruuf.”

“You have my sincere thanks for saving my citizens. As with your friend, you are always welcome in the city of Whiterun.”

Serana nodded. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Being thanked like this was still a very new experience for her.

“I won’t pry too deep into this business of yours, but are you planning on staying much longer?” The Jarl asked Arven. “You are most welcome to, but if you’re being targeted I’ll have to inform the guards.”

Arven shook his head. “We’re leaving today. Have a meeting to attend elsewhere,” Arven said.

Balgruuf grunted in response. “Hmm. I honestly can’t decide if that’s a relief, or not.”

Arven chuckled. He always appreciated the Jarl’s honesty. “I’d say it’s a relief. If I stayed, Irileth would become rather frustrated, and that’d rub off onto you.”

While the Jarl let a brief laugh escape, Irileth’s expression turned into one of disapproval. Arven could never resist a bit of light teasing.

“I can agree with that,” Balgruuf said. “You let me know if there’s anything I can offer to assist you.”

Arven shook his head, but before he could refuse the offer verbally, Serana spoke.

“Some horses would be good,” she offered in a rather nonchalant manner.

Arven just looked to her, lost for words.

“Done,” Balgruuf said. Serana instantly turned to Arven with a beaming smile.

“Wait, no,” Arven said. He turned to the Jarl. “Thank you, but we don’t need horses.”

“What?” Serana asked. “We were just discussing this earlier!”

“And I told you why we don’t have them.”

“Oh come on,” Serana continued. “Please?”

“No,” Arven said. Serana pouted, putting on her best look of disappointment. Arven felt something tugging at his heart. “No,” he reiterated.

After realising that Serana wasn’t getting her way, she folded her arms and turned her back to Arven.

The Jarl laughed once more. “Well, if you change your mind just see my stable hand. He’ll sort you out.”

Arven turned to Serana, giving her a look as if saying don’t you dare.

_______

As they left the main hall Balgruuf walked up to Arven, grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him aside.

“That’s quite a woman you have there, you know,” the Jarl said.

Arven nodded, half a smile coming over his face. “I’m well aware, believe me.”

“Just where did you find someone like that?” Balgruuf continued. “I heard some recounts of the fighting, and to be honest I’m not quite sure if I believe them.”

Arven looked him in the eye. “What did you hear?”

“Many things, but everyone seemed to agree on two points. Her elegance, and her savagery.” The Jarl waited for a response, but as none came he simply clapped Arven on the shoulder.

“Well, I can’t think of a safer couple in all of Skyrim. I almost feel bad for the fool who tries to rob you two on the street,” he continued.

Arven let out a brief chuckle. “I can’t argue that,” he said.

“You best be off. The sooner you deal with this issue, the sooner you can come back and we can feast!”

For quite some time now the Jarl had been trying to hold a feast for Arven. He’d managed to dodge it every single time. He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, though. He just rolled his eyes at Balgruuf.

“Your lady is welcome, of course,” the Jarl continued.

“We’ll see,” Arven said. “She can be very picky with food.”

“What woman isn’t?” Balgruuf replied before barking another laugh. The man had a surprisingly alive sense of humour, considering all his city had been through recently.

After Serana and Arven left the main hall Serana slipped her hood on, looking up at the sky while trying to avoid getting any direct sunlight onto her skin.

“So, we leaving?” She asked.

“Don’t see any reason to stick around,” Arven responded.

“Have you told Lydia that we’re leaving?”

Arven shook his head. “Why would I?”

Serana frowned at him. “Politeness, maybe? I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing.”

Arven didn’t reply. He knew she was right, but he still wasn’t planning on dropping back in. He was getting that itch to leave, as he always did after spending even a short amount of time in the city.

“We’ll probably need to find another driver, though,” Arven said.

“Oh, I took care of that. Our driver will be waiting,” Serana replied.

Arven raised an eyebrow. “It’s well past dawn.”

“I know. He’s a loyal sort.”

Arven didn’t have as much faith but, as they exited the city, the carriage driver was waiting for them. As soon as the man saw Serana he stiffened immediately.

“Mornin’, miss. Sir,” the driver said.

Sir? That’s new.

The two of them quickly took seats in the back of the carriage, settling in. Arven looked at Serana, mouthing what did you do to him?

Serana just offered him a sly smile, along with a wink.

Arven thought it was rather unfair, now that he thought about it. Any woman with Serana’s looks could have the world under her heel just by using her smile. Her vampiric powers on top of that just seemed like the definition of overkill.

He had noticed a small warmth in his body that appeared whenever she smiled at him recently. It filled him up, and Arven found himself incredibly relaxed whenever the pleasant sensation ran through him. It was almost enough to hide the nagging feeling in the back of his head that still resisted it.

_________

The rest of the journey back to Fort Dawnguard passed without any further incidents. Arven ended up spending most of the trip to Riften napping with Serana watching over him, the carriage driver silently keeping his gaze forward. By the time they reached Riften it was night, and the pair continued onto the Fort by foot.

Just as they entered the valley leading to Fort Dawnguard, the sun had started to peek over the horizon. Serana put her hood up almost out of reflex.

“So, are you sure we need to go back into the Fort?” Serana asked as the walls of the place came into view. Arven couldn’t help but think it was more like a castle, rather than a fort.

“How many times have you asked this now?” He replied.

“Not enough, since I still haven’t convinced you.”

“You aren’t doing much convincing. More just, whinging,” Arven said.

Serana shoved him.

“Can we just make it quick?” Serana continued.

Arven looked to her as they walked. “Is it really that bad?” He asked.

Serana shrugged, wrapping her arms across her front. “It’s just really, really uncomfortable. Ever heard a blade scrape on stone the wrong way? It’s like that.”

Arven shivered. “You can stay outside, if you want.”

Serana paused, seriously contemplating it for a moment. After a few seconds, she shook her head.

“No?” Arven asked.

“Nope.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I don’t really trust these people,” she said, head tilted off to one side in thought.

“I’d be shocked if you did.”

Serana rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless anyway, if I let you out of my sight for a second you’ll fall over and break a leg or something.”

Arven sighed, but he didn’t push it any further. As they reached the first palisades blocking entrance to the fort he took off his helmet, raising a hand in greeting. Behind him Serana’s gaze turned to him, as she did every time he took off his helm. He didn’t notice.

They managed to reach the entrance to the fort without incident this time. It was as busy as ever, with trainees running through drills and workers re-enforcing walls. A cook had even started a large stew, the scent of which had all the men and women who were training drooling with anticipation.

As they reached the entrance Arven pushed open the large doors, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. Conveniently, the Moth Priest was standing in the centre of the room talking to Isran.

“Ah!” The priest called out as they entered. “My rescuers!” He walked over to Arven and Serana, taking the hand of each in turn and shaking it with a grateful expression.

“It’s good to see you both again,” the priest said.

Arven nodded at him in turn. “No issues finding your way here?” He asked.

“None at all, thankfully,” the priest replied. “It was quite the relief; I don’t think I could have handled another encounter with those vampires.”

The priest’s voice caught in his throat momentarily as he looked to Serana. “Ah, present company excepted, of course.”

Serana offered a blunt smile. “It’s fine,” she said.

“I hope they’ve made you welcome here,” Arven continued.

The Moth Priest gave a hesitant smile. “It’s not the hospitality I’m used to, but your man Isran has seen to my needs well enough,” he said. “And I might add, this is a remarkable fortress. I have colleagues back home that would love to study this place in detail.” As he spoke about the fortress his eyes lit up almost instantly. His passion for study was obvious.

“No,” Isran said.

“What?” Arven asked. “Why not? He is helping us out.”

“They’re already targeting him. If the vampires get to him later on I don’t want him telling them everything there is to know about my fort.”

Arven sighed. “After we sort this out, I’ll speak to him,” Arven said to the Priest with a soft smile.

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed you could find a Moth Priest so quickly,” Isran said as he walked over to Arven, arms folded across his chest.

“They made it easy for us,” Arven replied. “Finding them, at least.”

“No issues?” Isran said.

Arven grimaced. “We survived. They’ve been getting more aggressive, though.”

“How do you mean?” As Isran spoke his eyes studied Arven intently, as if looking for something.

“They attacked us in Whiterun, out in the open.”

Isran grunted. “You were the target?”

Arven hesitated. “Both of us, I think,” he said as he turned to Serana. “They want the scroll, but they seem to want to kill us just as badly.”

Isran’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look over Serana. “Didn’t take long for them to turn on their own. Not that I’m surprised.”

“It’s expected when I’ve killed more of them than your entire order has combined, don’t you think?” Serana retorted, flashing a cocky grin.

“Good to know loyalty runs deep for you,” Isran replied.

“I’m loyal to those I care for. More than you know.”

Gods, this is an uncomfortable conversation, Arven thought.

“So, does he have the scroll?” Arven interjected. “Is everything ready?”

“For the reading?” Isran asked, turning back to Arven. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready, Priest?” Arven asked.

“Oh, most certainly!” The Priest replied. He walked over to a nearby table, lifting up the Elder Scroll with a slight grunt before moving back to the centre of the room. “Let’s find out what secrets the scroll can tell, shall we?”

Arven couldn’t help but notice a small crowd had gathered. Most of the other Dawnguard members were standing on the edges of the room, with Arven, Isran and Serana closer to the centre.

“Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate,” the Priest said.

Dexion opened the scroll, his eyes focusing with a look of alarming clarity as he studied it’s contents. The room was deathly quiet as he proceeded. Just before he started Isran had taken out a piece of paper and a pen.

“I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow…” Dexion said. “Ah, I know this weapon! It is Auriel’s Bow!”

At the mention of the bow both Serana and Isran perked up, listening even more intently.

“Now, a voice whispers, saying ‘Among the night’s children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one,’” the Priest continued. At the mentions of a dread lord, and of dragons, both Arven and Serana appeared to shrink back ever so slightly.

“The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort,” the Priest said. “But wait, there is more here,” Dexion said. It sounded as if his voice was becoming increasingly strained.  “The secret of the bow’s power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls.”

Isran let out a short sigh, shaking his head as he continued to scribe. Arven couldn’t help but smile.

Of course this wasn’t going to be easy, he thought.

“One contains the ancient secrets of the dragons,” Dexion said.

Oh, maybe it will be easy.

“And the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood.”

Maybe not.

Dexion paused for a moment, his face growing tired suddenly. “My vision darkens, and I see no more,” he said as he closed the scroll. He stumbled slightly but Isran was immediately at his back, supporting him.

A soldier ran up and seized the scroll, hefting its weight and taking it away.

Dexion looked up but his eyes were completely glazed over and unfocused. “To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls,” he said. “I must rest now, the reading has made me weary.”

“Come on old man,” Isran said. “You should get some rest.” Isran lead the priest off into another room, supporting his weight. The crowd had dispersed as quickly as it had gathered, leaving Serana and Arven alone in the main entrance to the fort.

Arven walked over to the closest wall, sitting down on an empty bench next to some stacked boxes. Serana joined him shortly after.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“I’m really getting tired of Scroll hunting,” Arven said.

Serana clicked her tongue. “Yeah. That might take a while,” she said as a hint of a smile crept up on her lips.

Arven eyed her off, curiously. “Should only need one though,” he continued.

“Wait, what? The Priest said two.”

“Yeah, and one of them is about dragons,” Arven said. “Ring any bells?”

Serana’s eyes widened as she realised what he meant. “You still have it?”

“Well, no. But I know where it is,” he said. Serana almost glared at him, as if she was calling him an idiot through her gaze. “It’s in the safest place possible, trust me,” he continued.

“Fine, fine,” Serana said. “Well, for the other one. I think I know where we can start looking.”

Arven blinked. “Didn’t feel like speaking up when Dexion mentioned it?”

“You didn’t either,” she retorted.

“…Yeah. Fair point.”

“Besides, half of the people in your little crew would just as soon kill me as talk to me. That doesn’t exactly make me want to open up,” she said as she leaned back against the wall, hands clasped in her lap as she looked up. Her hood slid back, but her long hair still covered most of her features as it fell across her face. “I got a warmer welcome from my father, and that’s saying something.”

Arven let his head rest against the wall behind him, turning to face Serana. Some of his hair blocked his vision, but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked.

Serana shifted on the spot, her hands fidgeting. She looked about the room, but the two of them were basically alone at this point. The rest of the Dawnguard had left to attend to their duties. “We… ever since he found out about the prophecy, decided to make it his calling. We kind of drifted apart,” she said.

When she spoke like this, Arven couldn’t help but see the more human side of her. Despite her strength and her presence, there was a part of her that was still just a regular young woman.

“Does Harkon even care about you anymore?” Arven asked.

Serana grimaced momentarily before trying to shift the expression into that of a smile. It wasn’t very convincing. “You know, I’ve asked myself the same thing,” she said. “After you woke me, I thought… I hoped that if he saw me, he might feel something again. But I guess I don’t really factor in at this point.”

Serana turned her head up, looking Arven in the eyes with a half-smile across her lips. “I don’t think he even sees me as his daughter anymore. I’m just… a means to an end,” she said.

Arven wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He didn’t have a way with words at the best of times, after all. The only thing he could think of was to reach out, grabbing hold of Serana’s hand to give it a soft squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said under his breath. Serana’s half smile turned into a proper one.

“Anyway,” Serana said, sitting up a little bit straighter as Arven pulled his hand back. “We need to find my mother, Valerica. She’ll definitely know where it is, and if we’re lucky she’ll actually have it herself.”

“Wait, that’s an option?” Arven asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t she missing?”

“Sort of,” Serana responded.

“How can you sort of go missing?” Arven retorted with a hint of sarcasm dripping from his voice. Serana rolled her eyes at him.

“The last time I saw her, she said that she’d go somewhere safe, somewhere my father would never search,” Serana said. “Other than that, she wouldn’t tell me anything.

“That hardly narrows it down, though.”

“But, the way she said it… ’Someplace he’d never search.’ It was cryptic, yet she called attention to it,” Serana said.

Arven leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Sorry Serana, but… you sure you aren’t reading into this too much? This was a long time ago.”

Serana nodded. “No, it’s fine. You’re right to be hesitant. Besides, I can’t imagine a single place my father would avoid looking.”

“The Sun?” Arven asked.

Serana shook her head. “You’re an idiot,” she said. Arven just struggled to suppress a snort of laughter.

“Only places I know of to look for Vampires aren’t the nicest to go searching around in. Old caves, crypts, castles. Anything dark and deserted is a good start. Not that it really narrows things down,” Arven replied. He waited for a response, but none came. Serana was sitting on the spot, eyes furrowed.

“Serana?” He asked.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said.

“Really? What?”

“Well… you’re going to wish we got those horses.”

Arven squinted, then he sighed as he realised what she meant. “No,” he said.

“I haven’t even told you yet!”

“We are not going back to that castle,” he continued.

Serana smirked at him. “Who said we’re going back there?” She said. Arven just glared at her until she relented. “Alright, alright. But we need to.”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time we were there?” Arven asked.

“Vividly,” Serana said. “It still makes me smile when I think about you scaring them all off.”

Arven grimaced. “Sure, but, that’s not the part that I remember.” As he talked Arven started to idly play with his hands in his lap. Harkon was one of the few things that really got to him.

In response Serana scooted a bit closer to Arven, nudging him with her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting we walk in the front door,” she said. “When I was back there, I found out that huge sections of the castle had been shut off, sections that my mother used to work in. I guess my father, in his rage, wanted to get rid of everything that reminded him of her.”

“Still,” Arven said. “Staying there seems like a huge risk.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Serana replied. “But my mother’s not a coward. I mean, I don’t think we’re just going to trip over her there, but it’s worth a look.”

Arven let out a defeated sigh. “At the very least, we might find something to lead us in the right direction,” he said.

“And trust me, it’ll be safe,” Serana said. “That place looked like it hadn’t been touched for hundreds of years. I doubt that’d change anytime soon.”

Arven let out a deep breath.

That’s going to be another, very long walk, he thought. Maybe we should get horses.

As Arven sat in thought, he was quickly distracted by the sound of plate boots ringing out on the stone floor. Looking up, he spotted Isran walking over to him. The man didn’t look happy. Then again, he never did.

“I’ll meet you outside, alright?” Serana said as she stood up, walking past Isran. The two made eye contact but neither offered any form of greeting or recognition.

“Boy,” Isran called out as he got closer. “Come with me. We’re going to have a little talk.”

Arven sighed internally, but he followed.

This doesn’t sound like fun.

Isran led Arven up to the second floor, away from the rest of the soldiers within the fort before he spoke again. He turned around, glaring at Arven with a look that made the Imperial shiver.

“What in the hells are you doing?” He demanded. He didn’t raise his voice, but Arven could feel the anger.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Arven retorted.

“Are you a fool? Do you think this is some sort of game, now?” Isran continued. Arven opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off. “Why in the hells are you getting along with that thing?” Isran continued.

Arven waited a moment before replying, meeting Isran’s gaze. He knew what the man was thinking, and if Arven was being honest with himself, he couldn’t blame the older warrior.

“She’s not controlling me,” Arven said, exhaling deeply.

“How could you possibly know that? Especially after she already has!” Isran said.

“Because she’s on our side. She doesn’t have anything to gain by controlling me,” Arven responded.

“Of course she does! She’d get you as her own personal puppet.”

“She’s been going along with our plan this entire time! Why would she control me only to help us?”

“Has she? Or are you just playing into her plan without even realising it?”

Arven sighed. He was struggling not to let his frustration boil over. He could sympathise with Isran, after all, if the situations were reversed, he’d say the exact same thing.

“If she had a plan to help her father, she wouldn’t need me. I am no threat to her, Isran. None of us are,” Arven said with an effort to keep his voice low and neutral.

“No threat? Tell that to the dozens of those beasts we’ve killed.”

“Vampires, sure. We’ve all killed our fair share,” Arven said. “Serana has probably killed more than anyone else.” Taking a step closer Arven locked eyes with Isran, not faltering despite a growing urge to look away and walk out of the fort.

“We shed blood and risk lives to kill vampires,” Arven said. “Serana doesn’t. She isn’t even threatened by some of the oldest and strongest vampires I’ve seen. Back when we were attacked in Whiterun I had two vampires almost kill me, I barely managed to take one down before the other one was seconds away from taking my life. Serana showed up and batted him aside without even trying.”

Isran’s brow furrowed as Arven spoke. The older man didn’t reply, but he didn’t break eye contact.

“I’ve only seen her struggle once,” Arven continued.” Out in broad daylight against a damn dragon. Even then, with a fucking dragon breathing fire at her in the middle of the day she didn’t die. Instead she saved my life.”

Isran murmured to himself. He took a step back, rubbing a hand over his face as he idly looked about the fort.

“You seriously think she’s on our side?” Isran said, in a much more neutral voice.

“Yeah,” Arven said. “I do.”

Isran grunted. “Can’t say I like the idea.”

“Like it or not, she might be our only chance. I can’t imagine anyone killing Harkon in a fair fight. She’s the only other person I know who even comes close to him.”

“Well, if the old man was right, the Bow might be able to stop him,” Isran said.

“Auriel’s Bow? What is that?” Arven asked.

Isran folded his arms, giving a half-hearted shrug. “I thought it was just a legend. An ancient bow of peerless craftsmanship that channels the power of the Sun,” he said.

Arven raised a brow. “Channels the Sun? That sounds almost too convenient.”

“Just about as likely as blocking out the Sun,” Isran retorted. “I really hate all this prophetic shit.”

Turning back to Arven, Isran grumbled to himself. “Alright, fine. Keep travelling with the damn thing. By the Divines though don’t go catching feelings for it.”

Arven stood momentarily stunned after hearing what Isran said, but before he could reply the older man continued to talk. “Don’t try and tell me otherwise. I’m old, not stupid. You’re a smart boy, don’t do something dumb and get yourself killed, or worse.”

Isran turned to leave, walking off in the opposite directions to the stairs they had used previously. “Don’t forget what side you’re on,” he called behind him as he left.

I wonder if I’m ever going to have a normal conversation with him, Arven thought.

When Arven left the fort he found Serana right outside the main doors, leaning up against the fort while remaining in the shade.

“Fun conversation?” She called out.

Arven rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

“Let me guess,” Serana started. “He doesn’t like the fact that we’re getting along?”

“We’re getting along?” Arven asked. “I’ve just been tolerating you.”

“You ass,” Serana replied.

Arven snorted with amusement. “You’re right. He’s worried that you’re controlling me.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense, if I was controlling you why am I helping you?”

“That’s exactly what I said.” Arven replied. “He’s just being overly cautious, as he always is.”

“I suppose,” Serana said. The pair of them had started walking back down the hill that lead away from the fort, the conversation dropping off before Serana started it once more. “You know I’m not, right?”

“Hmm?” Arven asked, turning to face her.

“You know I’m not controlling you,” she said.

Arven smirked. “Yeah, I know Serana.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “Good. It’d be a bit easier if they even thought about trusting me, though,” she said. “I understand where they’re coming from, but I haven’t given them any reason to distrust me.”

“You’re a vampire, that’s reason enough,” Arven said with a sympathetic look. “I understand your frustration, but I understand where they’re coming from as well.”

“You came to trust me though, why can’t they?”

“You saved my life,” Arven said. “More than once. You also went out of your way, starving yourself in order to make me feel more comfortable. It’s hard not to trust you after that.”

“You’d think having you vouch for me would make them a bit more relaxed,” Serana said.

“It does,” Arven replied.

“Really?” Serana said with a quirked brow. “Doesn’t really feel like it.”

“They aren’t trying to kill you on sight. That’s a big change, you know.”

Serana looked straight ahead, a slight frown on her face. With the hood covering most of her features it was hard to get a good read on her, but Arven could tell she seemed upset. Conflicted.

“I wish people weren’t so quick to hate Vampires,” she said.

Arven opened his mouth to respond, but just ended up stuttering. He quickly realised that he needed to think very carefully about what he said.

“I get it, I do,” Serana continued. “But… being hated for a thousand years takes a toll on you, you know?”

“I’m sorry Serana, but you can’t expect people to blindly trust vampires,” Arven said. “Every single vampire I’ve ever met has tried to kill me. I’m not going to give the next one I meet a chance just because they might be nice.” As he spoke Arven kept his voice soft. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He wanted to reassure Serana, but he wasn’t going to blatantly lie to her.

“There are good vampires, Arven.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever met one.”

“That’s the point,” Serana said.

Arven turned his head to her, slightly confused.

“There are vampires out there who live with mortals peacefully. They just don’t tell anyone what they are, or else they’d be hunted.” Serana explained.

Thinking back, Arven had heard of stories about vampires who had lived in a town for decades, only to make a mistake and end up being hunted or killing half of the town before fleeing. He’d always been confused by those stories and ended up assuming that they did it while secretly trying to control the town, just to get some sort of sick entertainment from it all.

“Just because your power is given to you by an evil being, doesn’t make you evil. You’re a perfect example of that,” Serana said with a gentle smile.

Arven couldn’t think of a response to that. He did however have a question that had been bugging him for quite a while.

“Serana… why did you become a vampire?” He asked. He wasn’t sure if he should, if it was appropriate. It had just been eating at him for a long time. The two had just walked out the gates leading to the camp before the fort, leaving them both alone.

Serana frowned at him. “That… is a very long story,” she said.

“I guessed as much,” Arven replied.

Serana grimaced. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Arven said.

“No,” Serana replied. “It’s fine. It was… a family decision. Do you know where vampirism came from?” She asked.

Arven thought for a moment, but he ended up offering her a shrug. “Not sure. I’d guess a Daedric Lord.”

“Yes, exactly,” Serana said. “The first vampire was made by Molag Bal. She… wasn’t a willing subject, but still the first.”

Arven felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of that Daedric Prince. He didn’t speak though, and Serana continued.

“Molag Bal is a very powerful daedric lord, and his will is made reality,” she continued. Every time Arven had heard that Prince’s name be mentioned it was with a hint of fear. Except for now. Serana almost sounded like she was proud to be talking about him. “For those willing to… subjugate, themselves, he will bestow the gift of vampirism. But they still must be powerful in their own right beforehand.”

“So, you became a vampire for power,” Arven said.

“Simply put, yes.”

“Out of every Prince to follow though, you chose Molag Bal?” Arven asked in a quieter voice.

“You say that as if you know him,” Serana replied.

“I might’ve had a run in with him before,” Arven said.

“How did you of all people end up in a situation with him?” Serana asked, almost shocked.

Arven sighed. “I was asked by a Vigilant of Stendarr to help cleanse a place of Daedra, a long time ago,” he said. “He thought it was just a regular Daedra, but it wasn’t. I agreed to help him but once we were there, Molag Bal started talking to me. He tried to convince me to kill the Vigilant. I refused, so he instead made the Vigilant attack me.”

“You refused him? How?” Serana asked.

“I told him to get fucked,” Arven replied.

Serana scoffed, a slight hint of amusement hidden behind her shock. “No, I mean, how did you turn him down? You can’t just say no to someone that powerful if they want you to do something.”

“I don’t know,” Arven said. “Maybe he was toying with me, maybe it’s because I’m Dragonborn and that affects things somehow, but he wasn’t controlling me. He just asked. After I was forced to kill the vigilant who attacked me, he wanted me to do something else. I shouted down the door and left before finding out what that something else was.”

“I’m sorry,” Serana said after a pause. “I had no idea.”

“I get working with Daedra, I do. I’ve done it before myself,” Arven said as he took hold of his sword in its hilt, a blade he got from Meridia. “But Molag Bal? He’s vile.”

“Vile or not, he’s powerful,” Serana retorted.

“And you follow him willingly?” Arven asked.

“…Yes,” Serana said after a small hesitation. “My family does, and we were rewarded.”

“Did you choose that, or did your family?” Arven said.

“What do you mean?”

“The choice to, well, follow him. Become a vampire. Did you make that decision or did Harkon force you into it?” Arven asked, trying to lock eyes with Serana. She averted her gaze.

“I was chosen by Molag Bal, specifically. Selected. That is not the kind of thing you reject,” Serana retorted.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

Serana’s expression turned sour for a moment, but she quickly hardened it. “We all chose to take part,” she said.

“Right,” Arven said. “So, you followed him for a while, he chose you and made you all Vampire Lords?”

“Not quite,” Serana replied. “My father had to offer… a few sacrifices. Then, there was a ceremony.”

Arven raised a brow.

“We had to give ourselves. It… wasn’t exactly a wholesome family activity,” Serana said. Arven shuddered.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, an awkward, uncomfortable silence falling over them until Arven decided to break it.

“Do you regret it?” He asked.

“Huh. No one’s ever asked me that before,” she said. “I… don’t know. I think… mostly, I just hate what it’s done to my family.”

“Vampirism and happy families normally don’t mix well,” Arven said. Serana just offered him a sympathetic look in response.

“Ever thought about a cure?” Arven asked. He’d wanted to ask that for a long, long time. He just never had a chance to bring it up.

“What?” Serana said, a hint of anger in her voice. Arven thought of dropping the subject, but he continued.

“A cure,” he continued. “For your vampirism.”

“Why… Why would you even think of it like that?” Serana responded with a much louder voice. “This isn’t a disease to be cured, it’s a gift. A very, very powerful one, and after what I had to go through to get it there is no way I’m giving it up.”

“Power isn’t everything, Serana. Is it really worth it when it destroys your family? Ends up with you locked away for hundreds of years?” Arven said.

“What’s a hundred years when I’ve got millennia left to live? It may have driven my family apart, but I’m still here. I’m alive, and I’m strong. And strength takes sacrifice. Not all of us are lucky enough to be handed the power of damn dragons,” Serana said. Her voice held a lot of anger, yet as she finished speaking, she caught he tongue, a look of shame on her face.

“I, didn’t mean…” She started, only to be cut off.

“Lucky, huh?” Arven asked, his voice turning bitter. “Tell you what, if I ever figure out how to how to make someone else Dragonborn, instead of me, you’re first in line. We’ll give it to someone who appreciates it, yeah?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Serana said.

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Look, sometimes the ends justify the means, alright? Yes, what we’ve both been through was horrible, but it was worth it. You know how powerful you are. How powerful I am, how powerful my father is,” Serana said.

“Fuck your father,” Arven said. “Fuck everything you just said.” Arven turned to face her as he spoke, stopping in his tracks. “Yes, I’m strong. Stronger than a lot of people but I don’t care. I didn’t want the power. I didn’t crave it, it was forced on me, and now I feel obliged to use it because if I don’t, people die. This isn’t some gift in disguise, some hidden blessing, it’s a curse. Over the last few years I’ve spent every day of my life fighting something. Someone. I’ve come closer to death more times than I can count. I should’ve died more times than I count, but this fucking blood keeps me on the brink of survival every goddamn time.” As Arven spoke he clenched his hand out of anger, struggling to keep his voice in check. The sound of metal breaking quietly rang out, one of the chains in his gauntlet giving way to the pressure caused by his closed fist.

“I don’t like fighting. I’m good at it, but I hate it. Fighting dragons is terrifying. Fighting Vampires is terrifying. Walking around in a dimly-lit crypt crawling with undead horrors is terrifying. If I could load this onto anyone else, anything else I would do it in a damn second and go live a normal life,” Arven continued, his voice growing hoarse as he didn’t give himself time to take a breath.

“Arven, I-“ Serana started before she was cut off once more.

“And don’t you dare act like what your family did to you was okay. I’m glad you enjoy the power you have. I’m glad you got something out of that fucked situation. There is nothing in this world, nor will there ever be, that makes what they put you through okay. You’re their daughter, it’s their job to protect you and they threw you to Molag Bal for his enjoyment so they could get drunk with power. I can’t imagine the shit you went through, and I know what I’m imagining probably doesn’t even come close to what actually happened. You didn’t deserve that,” Arven said. His face was growing red, both out of anger and a lack of air. He had taken a step closer to Serana while speaking, but she took two back, shocked by the sudden outburst.

“Your father is disgusting. I know he’s your father, but he is, and you are so much better than him. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve never done anything wrong, anything bad, you’re a vampire that has lived for a long, long time. But you’re not a bad person, and you are so, so much better than your father, and far too good to ever be following a repugnant piece of filth like Molag Bal,” Arven said, finally pausing to take a few short breaths.

The conversation stopped after that. Arven and Serana both stood silent, looking at the other. Arven couldn’t quite figure out what Serana was thinking as her expression had gone almost completely blank.

Arven exhaled. “I shouldn’t have asked, that was stupid,” he said.

Serana didn’t say anything in response.

Shit. I really need to learn how to shut my damn mouth.

“Let’s uh, just keep moving,” Arven said as he stepped off. He walked for a few seconds before noticing Serana wasn’t following. He turned to face her and she was looking away, arms crossed as she seemed to hug herself.

Arven stepped back towards her. “Hey, Serana?”

He could see her shoulders shuddering ever so slightly, her face twisted with anger and sadness.

“I… have to be okay with it, Arven,” she said to him, although she didn’t turn to him.

“What?” He asked, taking a few steps closer.

“The things he did. The things I had to go through, what my parents made me do, I…” her voice choked as she spoke, causing her to curse under her breath. “I need to be okay with it. I have to have… some, control over it.” She finally turned to look at Arven, and he could see tears forming in her eyes. Arven immediately closed the distance between them, taking his gloves off hastily.

“He tortured me. Violated me, for what felt like days. Weeks. It has to be worth it, has to be worth something because if I did all of that for no fucking reason,” eventually Serana’s voice came to a stop, the woman unable to talk as she raised a hand to her mouth, struggling to stop the emotion she was holding in from coming to the surface.

Arven reached out with bare hands, placing his palms on her cheeks as he looked her in the eyes. His thumbs moved to wipe away the tears that streaked down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Serana,” he said before he pulled her close. One hand ran through her hair while his arm wrapped around her shoulders as Serana buried her head into the crook of his neck.

Arven held her there, the two of them alone in the canyon until he finally felt her shoulders stop shuddering in his arms.

Notes:

Happy New Year! Finally back with another update. Won't say too much this time but as always thank you for reading and I hope you're enjoying it! No real action this chapter, but there should definitely be some in the next one. I've been trying to answer any questions people have had through the story as well, but if there's anything you might be curious about please reach out. Thanks!

Chapter 11: Song & Dance

Arven had relented. And because of that, he hurt. He hurt quite a bit. Shifting in his saddle he tried to get comfortable while doing his best to ignore the chafing and aches that riddled his legs.

“I get the feeling that if you didn’t have a helmet on, I’d be seeing a very entertaining expression on your face right now,” Serana said as she rode alongside him. She didn’t seem to be uncomfortable in the slightest, riding her horse as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And what gave you that idea?” Arven said as he struggled to hold in a groan of pain.

“Well you won’t shut up. That’s the biggest giveaway,” Serana replied with a smirk.

“If I had known it’d be this bad, I would’ve just run alongside you,” Arven said. He wasn’t joking, either. Running in heavy armour for a full day, although not ideal, was doable. Riding a horse all day, apparently, wasn’t.

“That would be entertaining,” Serana mused. “But then your armour would just be rattling away all day.”

“Would that bother you, princess?” Arven asked, deciding that teasing Serana would be much more entertaining than focusing on his discomfort.

“Just a little bit,” Serana replied as she turned to him, giving him an incredibly sweet smile as she played along. Arven instantly felt heat rise to his cheeks.

Damn woman, he thought.

After being faced with the thought of travelling back across Skyrim again on foot or by carriage, Arven had finally relented and agreed to get some horses in Riften. They weren’t cheap, and unfortunately, he wasn’t regarded as highly in Riften as he was in Whiterun, but he still managed to get them at a decent discount.

The horses had cut down the length of the trip significantly. The horses weren’t the fastest, but they were sturdy. In a full day’s travel they had made it back to Whiterun. Well, close. They had both pulled up short of the stables. Close enough to watch the traffic moving in and out of the city but far away enough that Arven hadn’t been recognised, yet.

He sighed to himself, a soft grimace underneath his helmet as he faced the prospect of dealing with the townspeople again. He enjoyed talking to them and spending time with them, but in moderation. Heavy moderation.

Arven just couldn’t decide if a warm bed was worth putting up with all that.

“Don’t want to deal with it all, do you?” Serana asked, reading his mind instantly.

“Something like that. I’d be nice if there was a way to sneak in, then I wouldn’t hesitate,” Arven replied.

“Well, there is. Sort of,” Serana said as she dismounted off her horse. She barely even made a sound as her feet hit the grass beneath her.

Arven raised a brow, dismounting himself as Serana beckoned him over. “Sort of? You thoroughly enjoy being cryptic at times, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said. “Now, helmet off.”

Arven squinted, folding his arms. He didn’t say anything.

“Helmet. Off.” Serana said again in a more forceful tone, her smile ever so slightly cocked into a grin.

“You could really try explaining yourself before asking me to do these things,” Arven noted.

Serana responded by placing her hands on her hips, frowning up at him. “Illusion magic. Do you want me to help, or would you rather deal with all the attention?”

Arven paused, only for a moment before relenting. A small shiver went through his body at the prospect of letting a vampire use its magic on him, but that shiver was essentially negligible now. Taking his helmet off he held it under one arm, looking down at Serana with a raised brow.

“Alright. Hold still,” Serana said as she reached out, but Arven took half a step back, avoiding her hands. “What part of hold still don’t you understand?” She continued.

“Why are you reaching for my face?” Arven retorted, a distrusting look in his eyes.

“So I can see what I’m doing, obviously.”

Arven deadpanned, shaking his head at her. “You and I both know you could cast this kind of spell with your eyes closed. What are you getting at?”

Serana rolled her eyes, turning towards the city before walking off. “You just have to ruin my fun every time, don’t you?”

Arven jogged briefly to catch up, walking alongside her with his helmet still off. “And what’s fun about making me uncomfortable?”

“What isn’t?” Serana said as she continued to walk forward, her cloak kicking out behind her with every step that she took.

Arven groaned. As he thought about it though, the idea of ignoring all the attention was definitely worth a few seconds of being messed with, no matter how he looked at it. He couldn’t just admit that though, for obvious reasons. So, after grabbing the horses and leading them by their reins he just kept walking with Serana towards the stables, only occasionally clearing his throat.

“You okay, Arven?” Serana asked after he had cleared his throat for the fifth time. She seemed thoroughly amused. “Something on your mind?”

In response, Arven grumbled something that was barely audible over the sound of his boots striking the dirt road.

“Sorry, you’ll have to speak up,” Serana continued.

Arven sighed deeply, relenting. “I’d really appreciate it, if you’d use your illusion magic on me,” he finally forced out.

Serana let a wide grin cross her face as she skipped out in front of Arven, stopping him in his tracks. She reached out with a single hand, extending her index finger to place it under his chin. With that finger on the tip of his jaw she tilted his head towards her as she moved in closer, starting into his eyes intently.

Arven tried to keep his composure. He failed. He’d bet that any man in his position would be helpless with a woman as attractive as Serana this close, peering into their eyes. He could hear his own heartbeat racing, so he knew Serana could hear it as well – and it showed through the satisfied expression she had.

“I already cast the spell the second the city was in sight,” Serana said as she took her hand away to gently flick him on the nose. Then, she turned and walked off.

Arven just stood in place. He was dumb struck for a moment but soon he was simply cursing himself. He thought that by now, he would’ve figured Serana out or at the least, figured out a way to deal with her without looking like a fool.

He was still failing miserably on both counts.

__

After dropping the horses off at the stables, the two made their way to the gates of Whiterun. It was a strange feeling, not being watched as he approached the city. Normally by this point at least one guard had called out to him, or someone would’ve offered him a nod or a smile. He felt invisible, blending in perfectly to the small crowd always entering and exciting the city.

As he approached the gates, Arven was stunned for a moment as a guard raised a hand, walking up to him.

“Halt, stranger,” the guard said. “I don’t recognise your face, what business do you have in Whiterun?”

Wait, what?

“I didn’t realise people were being stopped at the gates,” Arven said after thinking. He half expected Serana to step in and smooth-talk her way through it, but she was just watching him with that infuriating smirk. “Is something the matter?”

The posture of the guard instantly stiffened, his expression undoubtedly becoming harder under the helmet he wore. “Whiterun is as peaceful as ever, traveller. I’m just doing my duty, most people don’t walk around with as much equipment as you do.”

Ah. That make sense.

Looking down at everything he wore, all of the potions, small knives strapped to his sides and of course, a sharp blade and strong shield strapped to his waist and back, Arven quickly realised why he’d been stopped.

“I’m looking for a good blacksmith,” Arven responded. “My blade is getting worn and I need a replacement, or at the very least to get it sharpened.”

The guard hummed to himself. He had one hand resting on the pommel of his blade – not in a threatening posture, but he obviously wasn’t convinced. “May I see your blade?”

Arven swore to himself internally, starting to regret disguising himself. Holding back a sigh he drew his blade slowly, preparing to try and bluff his way out of the unfortunate situation he’d be in as soon as the guard saw a pristine, clearly magical blade.

The guard didn’t see that though. As Arven drew out Dawnbreaker its appearance had changed as much as his had. It now looked like a regular steel blade, dirty with several deep chips in it.

“Ah, that won’t do at all!” The guard immediately exclaimed. “No man should be walking around with such a dull blade.”

Stepping aside, the guard clapped Arven on the shoulder as he let him pass along with Serana. “Go see Adrianne Avenicci. She’s no master but she’s a solid smith, she’ll get you sorted.”

Placing his blade back in its sheath Arven nodded his thanks, waiting until he was out of earshot to let out a deep sigh.

“Look at you, quick thinker,” Serana whispered to him as she brushed up against his side. “Bluffing your way out of that, didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Only because you fixed up my sword,” Arven responded as he turned to her while they walked. “You don’t have to sound so surprised, you know. I’m no fool.”

“I suppose not. All I’ve seen you do is fight and yell though, I have no idea what else you can really do,” Serana said.

Arven chuckled. “That’s about it, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, come now,” Serana responded. “You’re good at far more than just fighting.”

“Really?” Arven enquired as he turned his head to face her. “Such as?”

“You’re awful good entertainment, for one,” Serana said.

“Of course, my most redeeming quality. Entertainment for the Princess,” Arven said with a smirk.

Serana scoffed, feigning offence. “Princess? You call me that quite often, I’ve noticed.”

“What, am I wrong?” Arven asked.

“Do you see a Kingdom for me?” Serana asked, raising a hand to their surroundings.

“You could have a Kingdom within a month, if you wanted,” Arven said.

“How do you figure that?” Serana asked. “Don’t worry, I’m just curious. I’m not planning to rule Skyrim just yet,” she said with a coy smile.

“When’s the last time someone said the word ‘no’ to you?” Arven asked.

“You say no to me all the time, Arven.”

“That’s only because I’ve heard you snoring,” Arven said. “It ruins the illusion after hearing that terrible noise.”

Serana’s cheeks visibly flustered. She opened her mouth to respond but she struggled to find the words to say.

Arven snorted, his shoulders visibly shaking from the laughter he was holding in.

Finally, Serana found her words. “I do not snore!”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s still a funny thought though.”

Serana’s hands formed fists. She wanted to zap Arven but using magic in a town full of Nords without good reason never ended well. So, she just kicked his shin from behind.

Arven let out a small hiss of pain, limping on that leg for a few steps as he looked at Serana with a playful scowl. At the same time, he heard another man laughing, a Nord walking along with his wife who had just observed their little interaction. That Nord then got a smack on his head from his wife.

“That hurts, you know?” Arven asked.

“Good. That’s the idea,” Serana retorted as she started walking a step or two ahead of him. It didn’t take long for them to reach Arven’s house, but as they did Serana kept walking straight past it.

Arven found himself standing in front of the door, alone, before he jogged to catch back up.

“Where are you going? Wasn’t the idea to go straight home?” Arven asked.

“It was, but I thought of something else that sounds a bit more fun,” Serana said as she led him forward.

“I’m still in my armour,” Arven argued.

“So, change.” Serana responded.

Arven just let his arms fall by his sides, sighing. He knew there was no way to argue this, so he gave up, quickly going inside to get at least slightly more comfortable, removing most of his plate. By the time he walked back outside Serana was leaning up against his house, arms folded as she drummed her fingers against her bicep.

“Took your time,” she said. Then her expression quickly changed as she caught Arven by the hand, dragging him towards the inn.

Eventually Arven was walking into The Bannered Mare, an inn that he had only been in a couple of times – always for business. Before he knew it, he was sitting down at a table in the corner of the inn, opposite Serana with a mug of beer in front of them both.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk anything,” Arven said.

“I figured,” Serana said before taking a sip. “That’s why it’s going to be fun.” After she sat down Serana’s appearance returned to normal.

“You know, people might recognise you now. Isn’t it best to keep up that illusion?” Arven asked.

“It’s still up for everyone but you, Arven.” Serana said a she lowered her hood, finally. She let her flowing hair fall over her shoulders, a single finger pushing her fringe out of her vision.

“What’s the point of that?”

“Well, I’ve caught you looking at me enough – I figure you must like it. I’m not mean enough to take that away from you,” Serana said over the top of her drink as she held it to her lips before taking another sip.

Arven sighed, turning his face down to hide his expression before he finally took a drink of his ale. The mug was big enough that he’d get comfortably tipsy from drinking it all, so he was going to take it slow.

“Hey, how does alcohol even work for you?” Arven asked. “Can you get drunk?”

Serana nodded after placing her mug down. “We can. We can eat, the same as anyone else. It just isn’t as satisfying and we’re still hungry after. Alcohol still affects us as well. I couldn’t tell you why, but I’m not complaining.”

“Can you taste it?”

Serana nodded. “Yeah, I can. Everything tastes slightly blander though. At least, from memory. It’s been a while.”

“Do you miss it?”

Serana tilted her head off to the side, a single finger tracing circles around the rim of her mug. She had a tiny bit of beer stuck to her top lip and Arven was trying his hardest not to stare at it.

“No, I don’t. Not enough to dwell on it, at least,” Serana replied.

“Really? I thought you’d miss it at least a little,” Arven said.

Serana shrugged. “It just doesn’t cross my mind that often. It’s not like you savour your food or anything. Every time I’ve seen you eat, you shovel it down as fast as you can. I’d be surprised if you can taste anything at all.”

Arven reclined back in his chair. “Force of habit, I suppose.”

Serana eyed him off for a moment. A smile was on her lips, but that slowly turned into a look of frustration.

“What?” Arven asked, looking a bit lost.

Serana raised a finger, pointing to the beer on her upper lip. “Really? No comment?”

“You knew that was there?” Arven said.

“Please,” Serana responded bluntly.

“So, what. You did that to get a reaction out of me?” Arven continued.

Serana nodded curtly, as if such a thing was obvious.

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re sticking with me. I’ve never met someone who enjoys toying with other people this much,” Arven said.

Serana didn’t respond. Instead, locking eyes with Arven, she let the tip of her tongue glide across her upper lip - slowly wiping away the beer.

Arven wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He just raised a hand to his face after, massaging the bridge of his nose. “You’re a terrible woman, Serana.”

Serana just smiled at him.

“Just how many men have you driven insane by doing things like this?” Arven asked.

“What, teasing them relentlessly?” Serana asked. Arven nodded, taking a heavier sip of his drink.

Serana drummed her fingers on the table. “Well, none,” she said.

Arven let out a small chuckle. “I guarantee you it’s more than you think,” he said.

Serana shook her head in response. “No, really. I think this is the most time I’ve spent consistently with someone outside of my family, since I turned.”

“That’s… hard to believe,” Arven said. “You turned a long time ago.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware.” Serana exhaled. “Outside of my family and the other… members, I haven’t really had much socialising.”

“Didn’t you ever leave the castle? Travel?” Arven asked.

“Not really. Father was never fond of the idea, and as you know he’s an exceedingly difficult man to disobey,” Serana said in between sips of her mug. “Plus, I always had a fear that if I made any friends, that’d bring them to father’s attention.”

“That sounds lonely,” Arven said.

“It was,” Serana agreed. “But now, I’ve got you to torment to my heart’s content. Which is why I’m making the most of it.” With the smile returning to her face Serana ran a hand through her hair, messing up the gorgeous deep red locks before her fingers traced down her cheek, following her jawline until they were dancing across her collarbone.

Arven managed to look away this time, staring right up at the ceiling. “You’re a cruel woman.”

“I know,” Serana said with a cocky grin. She cocked her head to the side, studying Arven intently as a thought came to her mind. “Arven,” she said.

The Imperial turned to face her again, raising a brow in acknowledgement.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked.

“…Since when do you need permission? Prying into my life has basically turned into a hobby of yours by now,” Arven replied.

“Well, it’s a bit more personal,” Serana responded.

Arven shrugged. He had reclined back in his chair, ale in his hand as he idly sipped from it. “Go for it,” he said.

Serana sat up in her chair, leaning forward as she placed her hands around her mug. She looked Arven directly in the eyes.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” Serana asked.

Arven’s eyes went wide, barely managing to not choke on his ale. He let his mug rest on his leg, looking at Serana with an almost bewildered look. “You weren’t lying when you said it was personal, I’ll give you that.”

Serana’s smile turned into a smirk. “I did warn you. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I understand.”

Arven sighed. “I don’t mind, just… where did that come from?”

Serana took in a deep breath, her chest rising before she exhaled deeply. “Just in the way you act. I can do the slightest thing and I have you stammering, blushing, acting like a boy confessing their crush to a childhood friend.”

Arven rolled his eyes. “You’re meant to ignore that, Serana.”

She flashed him a wide smile. “I try to, for the most part.”

“You must know that you have that effect on any man though,” Arven responded.

“For the most part. There’s just something… different, about the way you react though. I was just wondering what that was,” Serana mused.

“So, you assumed it was inexperience?” Arven asked.

In return, Serana nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Well, no. That’s not it,” Arven clarified before taking a long sip of his drink.

Serana’s eyes lit up as she sat forward even more, her face reflecting one of a curious child.

“Oh, really? That’s interesting. I wasn’t sure if you ever had the time, or even the desire,” she said.

Arven frowned. “I’m still human, Serana. I’m still a man.”

“Oh, I know. You can just be so focused on a task; I wasn’t sure if you ever bothered with it. Not to mention, you resisted me at the start,” Serana said.

Arven shook his head. “Resisted? So, you were trying something.”

Serana shrunk back. She almost looked a little meek. “Sorry, Arven. You basically told me you wanted to kill me, and with your sword you might have been able to.”

Serana paused to wait for a response but none came as Arven just looked off to the side, clicking his tongue.

“It was quite a shock, I have to admit. Most of the time I can have someone under my finger in seconds, and they won’t disobey me ever. Even if their life is at risk,” Serana said in a softer tone. “Instead of that, I had a cocky, arrogant man who repeatedly got on my nerves.”

“How awful that must have been for you,” Arven retorted with a smirk.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Serana said playfully.

“When did you stop trying to influence me?” Arven asked.

“You broke free on your own at the castle,” Serana said. “When you talked to my father. I tried to calm you when you pulled your sword free, but it didn’t have any affect.”

Right when I let my dragon blood flare up, Arven thought.

“Why did you try to calm me then, of all times?” Arven asked.

“I was worried. Father… doesn’t take threats kindly, as you’re aware. I was certain that he would’ve torn your head clean off the second you stood against him,” Serana said.

“Huh. He probably could have, honestly. Why didn’t he?” Arven asked.

“He probably recognised a possible threat. Why take any risk at all, when he can have his minions do it for him?” Serana explained.

Arven let a short chuckle escape his lips. He rather liked the idea of Harkon fearing him, even if it was just a little.

“I’m sorry for trying to control you, Arven. I haven’t done it since, I’ve only tried to calm you when you panicked. I promise,” Serana said.

While it still made Arven uncomfortable, he waved the issue aside. “It’s alright, Serana. It’s not like I can blame you. I did point my sword to your throat seconds after you woke,” he said.

“What a confusing experience that was. I wake up in someone’s arms, only for them to shove me away and threaten to kill me seconds later,” Serana said as she stretched out, both her arms reaching out to the sides.

“Anyway, back to the important stuff,” Serana continued. “Who was the girl?”

Arven let out a brief laugh, shaking his head. “No way,” he said.

Serana tilted her head. “No way, what?”

“We are not going into the details of my limited love life,” he said.

“You bore,” Serana said. “I didn’t even know this side of you existed, you can’t just brush it all aside.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Arven retorted. “Besides, ever since I became… who I am today, that side of me has fizzled out.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Serana asked.

“Please. I’m a bit of a mess, I’d hardly make a good partner in this condition,” he responded.

“So? Just have a bit of fun. I’ve seen women come up and propose to you on the spot for saving them, it’s not as if it’d be difficult,” Serana said.

Arven shook his head. “That’s… not really what I’m after. Besides, using my position like that would just feel, wrong,” he retorted.

“You’re too kind for your own good, Arven,” Serana responded.

“Maybe”, he said. Then, he decided for some revenge. “Anyway, my turn,” he continued.

Serana blinked, looking at him curiously.

“You got to ask a question, now it’s my turn,” Arven said. “Not the same one,” he clarified rather quickly.

Serana sighed. “Alright. I suppose that’s fair. Shoot.”

“Have you ever been in love?” He asked.

Serana froze for a moment, her cheeks becoming slightly flushed. That was not the question she was expecting. Not even remotely close.

“That’s uh…” Serana started, quickly trailing off.

“Personal?” Arven asked. “That’s the idea.”

Serana paused, tapping her finger on the rim of her mug as she thought to herself. There was a moment of silence until, eventually, she shook her head.

“I suppose not,” she finally said.

“Really? Never?” Arven asked. He was incredibly curious, but he tried to restrain himself at least somewhat. He didn’t want to reach a touchy subject or bring back bad memories.

“No, I don’t think so. Well, perhaps unrequited love, once, if I could even call it that. It could have just been infatuation,” Serana said.

While he tried not to show it, Arven almost felt a small amount of pity for Serana.

To live that long, without knowing love.

“You’re telling me you fancied someone, but the feeling wasn’t mutual?” Arven asked.

Serana chuckled. “Shocking, right? I can’t say for sure, I never explored it any further. It would’ve made things complicated.”

“I… I guess that’s fair. I still find it hard to imagine a situation where you don’t get what you want, though,” Arven said.

Serana shrugged. “It happens. Or maybe I’m lying, hiding the stories about my innumerable lovers throughout the years, all so I don’t make you jealous?”

Arven grunted. “Knew I shouldn’t have asked,” he replied, although he was sure that she was joking. Mostly sure.

Arven continued to find some comfort in his ale, thinking of ways he could get back at Serana - yet none came to mind. One started to dance along the edge of his imagination, yet it fell from his grasp as soon as a large, hulking Nord came stomping over to stand right by their table.

Arven looked up, placing his drink down. “Can I help you?”

The Nord didn’t turn to respond, instead he was looking directly at Serana, who was pointedly ignoring him. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with yer’ beauty before, m’lady.”

Oh, this is hilarious, Arven thought to himself as he reclined back with a stupid grin on his face.

Serana looked up, arms folded as she addressed the man. “Awful kind. You seemed to ignore my companion, though. Not the nicest thing to do, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Nord barked a laugh. After a few seconds it was obvious that the man was drunk, if not from the way he was swaying on his feet, then from the distinct odour coming from his breath.

“Hah! This Imperial? Y’should not waste yer’ time with someone like him,” the man slurred. “Y’should come dance with a Nord!”

With a sigh, Arven stood up – placing a hand on the shoulder of the man. “The offer is appreciated, but we’re fine. Go back to your drink.”

Recoiling from Arven’s hand, the Nord finally looked at him with an almost shocked expression. “Ain’t talking to you Imperial, you mind your business!” Raising his hand, the Nord went to shove Arven on the shoulder. What he didn’t expect though, was for Arven’s figure to be as solid as stone.

Instead of shoving Arven back the Nord ended up pushing himself away, taking an uneasy step backwards before he ended up sprawled on the ground as a solid thump echoed about. A look of bewilderment was stuck to his face as he tried to figure out how Arven had failed to move a single inch.

Serana covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suppress a laugh as Arven went to stand at the man’s feet.

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, friend,” Arven said before he extended his hand down to the man. After a grumble of what sounded like either an excuse or an apology, the Nord grabbed Arven’s hand and slowly rose to his feet. His demeanour had shifted dramatically, looking down to the floor with his prior arrogance gone.

“That, uh… wasn’t respec’ful of me,” the Nord said as he finally stood up straight again.

Arven just nodded before motioning with his head for the other man to return to his seat. The Nord did so, turning and stumbling back to the bar as Arven sat down. Then, Serana laughed.

“Well, I’m not used to having a man stand up for me like that. I think I like it,” she said.

“Be quiet for once, would you?” Arven asked as he struggled to hide the grin on his lips.

“I’m surprised you didn’t knock him out,” Serana continued.

Arven shook his head. “I know him, he’s one of the guards. He’s not a bad person, just an idiot when he’s drunk.”

“I suppose,” Serana said before she took a few heavy gulps of her ale, finishing most of it. With a satisfied sigh she looked to Arven with a mischievous smirk. “He had a decent idea, though.”

Arven felt a sense of dread rise within him. “What?” He asked.

Serana reached out with a hand, offering it to him. “I want to dance,” she said.

“No,” Arven responded with as much authority as he could muster.

As he expected though, his protests amounted to nothing. He was dragged near the centre of the inn, next to the warmth of a fire that was lighting up the entire room. Serana dropped his hand, taking a few steps away where she stood expectantly in some sort of pose, one hand outstretched for Arven to grab. Arven simply stood there, perplexed.

“If this is meant to queue me onto something, it isn’t,” Arven said.

“You’re hopeless. Just grab my hand, and dance. Move however your body wants to,” Serana responded.

“However I want involves sitting back down,” Arven said. Serana huffed, frowning at Arven before she went back to their seat and got Arven’s drink. She then brought it back, pushing the mug to his lips.

“Drink,” she said before lifting the mug, forcing Arven to either open wide or end up with ale all down his front. There were a few hints of laughter from other patrons as they watched the humorous display, but by the time Arven finished the ale his head was spinning just enough that he didn’t care.

Then, satisfied, Serana took her old position – hand outstretched. “I still don’t know how to dance,” Arven said.

“Take my hand, I’ll do the rest. And quickly, before another buffoon tries to beat you to it,” Serana stated. So, Arven did just that. He took a step forward, gently taking Serana’s fingers in his hand before she suddenly did something and before he knew it, Arven had her slipping in and out of his grip. She moved across the floor with more grace than he had ever seen, leading him effortlessly as he tried his best to follow.

The rest of the night began to move in a blur. Shortly after they started to dance, a bard who was playing a more sombre song changed his music, letting an upbeat jig fill the room instead. Just as he did Serana reached out to Arven, stroking his cheek as she swept past him. He was not sure what she did, but suddenly, the music seemed more vibrant. More alive. Other patrons seemed to notice the music for the first time as well, either due to Serana’s influence, or just the fact that Serena herself was now dancing.

Arven was in the middle of it. Serana had both of his hands, spinning him around with the only break being to grab another mug of ale. Initially, Arven had been hesitant to grab another drink but after getting properly tipsy, ale continued to flow. He didn’t know where it came from, or how he paid for it, but his hands were constantly in Serana’s or wrapped around another mug.

The entire night they danced. The entire night, the rest of the inn had their eyes locked to Serana, almost making Arven feel invisible. Serana didn’t care about the gaze of anyone else though, the only one she focused on was Arven.

For the first part of the night the music was energetic. The bard was strumming a song about a brave hero, a fierce battle. The sound of Nords all stamping their feet in time to the rhythm emanated through Arven’s bones. He laughed, a smile constantly plastered on his face, mirroring that of Serana’s.

At a few points throughout the night the Imperial had other men coming up to him either offering congratulations or complaints, all based around him being the only one to have the attention of the beautiful stranger that everyone was talking about. The small, sober, rational part of him wanted to chastise Serana for bringing so much attention to herself, even with a disguise, but that part was easily deafened.

He was entranced, intoxicated by the way that Serana moved. She always seemed graceful but now, when she was putting in a modicum of effort, she was flawless. Her body moved in in a way which Arven didn’t believe to be suitable for mortal eyes.

He always knew she was beautiful, but seeing her like this – dancing, smiling, laughing, her hair brushed across her face as she spun, reaching out for his arms. She was the closest thing to a Goddess that he could imagine, and seeing that smile, seeing her happiness, he realised he was well and truly intoxicated. Her smile became the sweetest thing in the world.

Arven was so focused on Serana that he didn’t even notice that they left the inn. He only realised when he was standing back in his own home, the sound of Serana closing his front door snapping him back to reality.

He shook his head, a small groan coming from him immediately after as a slight dizziness overcame him.

“Ugh, when did… why did I drink so much?” Arven said as he closed his eyes for a moment, blinking to try and adjust to the light coming from various lanterns within the room.

Serana stepped up to him, placing a finger on his chest as she rose on the balls of her feet so that her face was inches from his own. “Because you’re more fun this way,” she said as she looked him in the eyes.

Whenever she got this close, or whenever Arven let her get this close, he could smell a faint, sweet, inviting scent coming from her hair. The longer he spent with her the more he realised how every part of her entire being was as if it was designed to be irresistible to him.

He knew in the back of his mind that, to a certain extent, he was correct.

“Serana, are you charming me right now?” Arven asked, as innocently as a child would. It turned out that when drunk, the Imperial had no issues saying what was on his mind.

Serana smiled, pushing on his chest with her finger to take a step back. “Magically? No, like I said I never put you under any sort of spell involuntarily, unless you’re in danger,” she said. “And as fun as it is, watching you stammer like a child when you get flustered, that’s not something I’d ever use my magic for.”

Taking hold of both of his hands, Serana started to lead Arven away. “Come on, follow me,” she said. Her voice came out in a matter that entranced Arven, and he could not think of a reason to refuse.

For the first time in decades, Serana was beginning to feel nervous. She led Arven up the stairs, her magic dimming or extinguishing every light they came across until she had him in his bedroom. She shut the door behind her and had moved Arven until he was standing with is back to his bed, only inches away.

She faced him, one hand resting on his hip as the other rested on the back of his head, snaking fingers through his hair while running her nails across his scalp. Her breathing had grown laboured, almost. She looked into Arven’s eyes, his drunken haze breaking away as realisation suddenly came through, dim eyes suddenly becoming incredibly sharp. He did not move, though. He seemed stunned.

Pulling on the back of his head, Serana pulled him closer inch by inch. Her lips slowly began to part, but as she did, she tasted the faint scent of alcohol in the air, coming from Arven’s breath. She pulled back slightly.

No, Serana thought to herself. You can’t do it, not like this. And you can not get him drunk to get what you want.

Where an empty longing had filled her, self-anger was now rising within. Taking her hand off Arven’s hip she pushed him back with her other hand, sending him sprawling onto his bed as a look of confusion and shock set in on his face.

She took a few steps away, turning to the door only to stop as she watched Arven laid out on his bed, his hands rubbing his eyes as a soft groan came from the man. He was disoriented, dizzy.

As disgust started to fill her Serana turned to the room and left. She didn’t say a word before descending the stairs, making her way to the guest room where she slammed the door shut behind her before sitting on her bed – hunched up with her knees to her chest.

Folding her arms across her knees she buried her face, exhaling deeply with tightly clenched fists. Her mind was a mess. She wanted to berate herself for being so stupid. She wanted to banish the tight feeling in her chest. She wanted the memories of that night, that horrible night, to stop plaguing her thoughts.

When her eyes shut horrid sights crept into her visions. She was brutally reminded of that time, a span of what felt like days of being tortured. Degraded. She saw her mother next to her, undergoing the same horrific treatment, all in the name of gaining power. As she opened her eyes the visions left her, but she was left in her room, alone.

Stupid girl, you can’t just force yourself to be close with someone else to forget the past.

Even as she told herself that, she wished it weren’t true. Her head was a mess and she was forced to choose between two different realities. One of the past, and the abuse she received at the whims of her own family, or that of the present, where she had no one.

Well, she had him. She had no idea what their relationship was, though. Was it purely out of necessity? Was there legitimate care from his end? Serana couldn’t answer that. She couldn’t even answer what it meant to her.

She knew she didn’t want it to end, though. If it was merely a relationship out of necessity, it meant that once this was all over, if it was ever over, they’d go their separate ways. After all, why would a vampire hunter spend any time with a Vampire Lord?

If they succeeded, she’d be without her father, without her house. She’d be without her only friend.

Serana pulled her legs tighter, her hands clenched, struggling to maintain her composure. She hated this feeling. She was an incredibly skilled mage, one of the best. She could walk into any guild, any college, and likely upstage anyone there. Her illusion magic was so strong she could rewrite the world around her, lead someone to believe that their wildest dreams were realities.

All of that didn’t do a single thing in changing her nightmares. She couldn’t change what she saw when she closed her eyes. So far, there had been only one thing she’d found that expelled those thoughts, those sights from behind her eyes.

Serana stood up. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she slowly exited her room, walking up the stairs without a single sound escaping from the wood beneath her. She made her way back to Arven’s room, opening the door to see him asleep. The Imperial had sprawled out on the bed in a similar fashion to how he was laying before, except now he was aligned with the bed, his head on a pillow.

She walked over to the bed, looking down at the sleeping man. His face looked peaceful as he slept, and she couldn’t help but feel jealous. Serana gently climbed onto the mattress, moving close to Arven. She placed one hand on his torso, her head coming to rest on his chest as she closed her eyes. She was waiting for the thoughts, the scarring images to return, yet they didn’t.

Feeling Arven’s heartbeat, feeling his chest rising and falling, it expelled all those memories. All the tension slowly left her body, and before long she was asleep. She slept soundly.

Throughout the night Arven stirred slightly, but the weight on his chest kept him in place. At one point he woke, his head softly pounding, his eyes groggy and vision a blur. He looked down to see Serana resting against him, her head on his chest, close enough so her scent filled his nose.

Arven started, yet he wasn’t anywhere near lucid enough to understand.

A simple dream, he thought.

With a soft smile on his face he placed his hand on her head, gently stroking her hair before sleep came back to take him moments later.

Notes:

Hello again! It's been a while, sorry for the delay!
I hope you're all doing alright, staying safe with everything that's going on in the world at the moment. Hopefully this will give you all something to do for a little while as you're stuck in quarantine - and thank you to those who sent well wishes, they were heartwarming to read.
Stay safe, and with any luck (and lack of writer's block) I'll have another chapter to share without anywhere near as long of a wait as this one.

Chapter 12: Homecoming

The dark, neglected halls of Castle Volkihar weren’t ideal for many purposes. It was ill-lit, a stench of death clung to the stone and there was dust built up on almost every surface. They did, however, carry sounds particularly well. As such, Garan’s screams were easily echoing throughout the stone halls as Harkon toyed with him.

“My lord… please, I-Arrgh!” Garan’s screams were hoarse, his voice whittled down by the repeated strain his tormented yelling had inflicted on his larynx. Harkon stood in front of him, arms folded across his chest as he stared down Garan, the vampire who was tied to the wall with shackles.

Two other vampires stood on either side of Garan, each holding various bloodied tools with looks of nervousness and worry on their faces. They didn’t enjoy what they were doing, but they knew if they didn’t obey, Garan could be replaced with either of them.

“I give you the simplest of tasks,” Harkon said. “Find a mortal. A regular man. And bring him to me. Dead or alive, I didn’t care.” The look on Harkon’s face grew disgusted as he regarded Garan’s appearance, the vampire who had sustained enough injuries to kill a regular man.

“And yet, you can’t even do something that simple.” Looking to one of the vampires at Garan’s side, Harkon’s glare was enough to coax the man into action, a dirty hook being plunged into Garan’s torso before it tore itself free, flesh being separated from tendons and bone as screams filled the halls once more.

“My Lord, I… I can explain.” As soon as Garan spoke, Harkon sent lightning flying from his fingers to shock the man, the Vampire Lord aiming to let out his frustration through the use of his servant as a punching bag. The lightning gave off a sharp, bright light, rebounding off the walls as the dimly lit room became unbearably bright.

“Explain what, that you, a vampire from a noble, powerful house, was bested by cattle?” Harkon yelled. His voice almost carried through the halls as well as the screams did. Almost.

Garan’s voice was barely audible now. His entire body had become limp, only suspended by the chains around his wrists. With a whisper he spoke, blood dripping from his body due to innumerable punctures. “It’s not, the mortal… it’s, your daughter.”

At the mention of his daughter, Harkon stepped forward. He seized Garan’s throat, shoving the man’s head back against the stone wall with a sickening crunch before getting right in his face. “My daughter is but a girl, locked away for hundreds of years. Are you trying to say she bested you?”

As slowly as he could, Garan nodded. “I can’t… compete, my Lord. She has your blood,” he said while resting on the verge of unconsciousness.

A look of fury came to Harkon’s eyes, yet it subsided. Then, that look was replaced by a sinister smile.

---

Arven stirred. A lazy, tired groan came from him as he fought the light coming through his eyelids, trying to will his body not to wake up as he slowly drifted out of a mostly restful sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw an empty room. It felt like a weight had lifted from his chest, that he felt lighter, but he couldn’t understand why.

Arven looked down. He was fully clothed, obviously having decided while drunk that an extra minute of sleep was preferable to getting comfortable. His head was still a bit groggy, but thankfully no severe headache was present. He certainly drunk more than enough to get one, but he wasn’t complaining. Sitting up, slowly, he ended up cross-legged with his head in his hands.

Just as he was letting out a soft groan, his door opened to reveal Serana standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms folded.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said. Of course, she still seemed as perfect as ever. No sign of a hangover, or even looking the slightest bit dishevelled. On the other hand, Arven didn’t want to know what he looked like currently.

He grunted in response, running his hands through his hair. He looked off to the side of the bed. He knew he should get up, but it just seemed so far away right now.

“You look like you pulled up well,” Serana said with that coy smirk.

Arven just collapsed back on the bed. “I’m sure I’ll look better after another hour of sleep.”

“Don’t you think you should be getting up?” Serana asked. Her voice just had a hint of playfulness in it.

“Maybe. Not a damn thing you can do to make me, though,” Arven responded.

In response Serana stood up straight, sauntering over to Arven with her arms behind her back. “Is that so?” She asked, her voice smoother than silk.

Arven rolled over, showing his back to her. He raised an arm, lazily waving it as if to shoo the woman away. “I am immune to your tricks, woman,” he breathed out lazily.

Serana let out a short chuckle, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned around, walking out of the room. “I suppose I’ll go drain the bath, then. All that hot water gone to waste.”

Arven turned around, but she had already left the room. He paused, blinking, before scrambling out of the room as quickly as he could.

A few minutes later and he was resting in the water, sinking in up to his neck as he let himself relax. He had almost tripped down the stairs, and when he got to the base, he didn’t find Serana emptying the bath – instead, she was sitting in a chair, waiting for him to come down. She gave him an insufferable smirk, one which Arven tried to ignore before he went to bathe himself.

It didn’t sink in that the bath was prepared for him until he was sitting there, feeling the drowsiness escape his body. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. At one point Serana had filled the bath with water, then taken the time to heat it for him. He knew it wouldn’t have taken her long, but the act was still something that stuck with him. Not to mention, it was the second time she had done it.

Of course, he could’ve asked Lydia to do the same thing. He could ask anyone in the town for almost anything and he’d get it without much issue. That wasn’t the point, though. The point that stuck with him was that Serana had done so without being prompted, just because she wanted to. The cynical part of Arven’s mind, the part he was trying more to ignore, told him that she was doing it only to get him to lower his guard. But if she wanted that, there was a plethora of other ways she could do that – all without being so kind to him.

He didn’t believe she was doing it to gain anything. That just begged the question though, why was she doing it?

Arven ran his hands over his face, slicking his hair back with the water. He found that he had started to grow a decent amount of facial hair over his chin and cheeks, something that he normally shaved off after a few days. He didn’t mind a little, but it was getting to the point where it’d be more accurate to call it a beard, rather than just some stubble.

He spent some more time relaxing, but as the water started to cool down, he stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed a small blade from his belongings that he’d unceremoniously piled in a heap. With his face still wet he approached a mirror mounted over a wooden table and, ever so slowly, started to shave.

A small pang of disappointment rose within him as he inspected his reflection and found that he still couldn’t grow a full beard. It was decent, but his cheeks didn’t fill in properly, and he felt that it highlighted his young age. Not to mention, living in a land of Nords, anything less than a full beard would be ridiculed.

It took him a few minutes and he didn’t escape without drawing blood once or twice, but after finishing up and briefly healing any cuts, he was freshly shaved. It wasn’t the cleanest of jobs, but now he felt more awake. Unfortunately, as he inspected the work he’d done, it didn’t take much for his eyes to be drawn to the scars at the base of his neck.

Healing magic had done a lot to restore the flesh that had been torn from his neck when the town was attacked some nights ago, but it was still evident where he’d been bitten. Two deep puncture marks stood out and the skin where flesh was torn had become rough and coarse, in drastic contrast so the smoother skin on the rest of his neck and face.

It didn’t bother him too much. A part of him wished he wasn’t covered with more scars than he could count but lingering on that didn’t accomplish anything. It was a permanent part of him, so it was in his best interests for him to simply accept it.

After he had dressed Arven walked back out into the main room of his house. He went over all the equipment he had put on, touching every pocket or small bag attached to his waist to confirm that he wasn’t missing anything. As he was doing so, Serana walked up to him, arms folded across her chest as she stared him down. She was standing rather close while she did so.

“Personal space doesn’t mean much to you, does it?” Arven asked.

“I’m sorry, do you dislike it when I stand close to you?” Serana responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Arven grunted in response, but as she kept staring, he had to say something. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Trying to decide if I like you better freshly shaven or not,” Serana responded. The way she talked, it sounded as if what she was doing was a rather normal thing.

Arven decided that this was one of those times where it was better to not respond. Taking a step to the side, he walked over to a weapon rack where Dawnbreaker was resting in its sheath. It was dirty, and he really wanted to spend some time cleaning the blade, but it was still functional. The metal never chipped, so there wasn’t really a need for proper maintenance. He didn’t know what it was made from exactly, but it was certainly convenient.

“Could you stay still? It’s hard for me to decide when you’re moving about,” Serana said.

“That’s the idea, you know?” Arven replied as he strapped the blade to his waist, purposefully not making eye contact.

Serana frowned at him, a small pout coming to her lips. Arven did his best to ignore it by walking towards the door, yet within a blink of his eye she was standing right in front of him once more.      She reached up, holding his chin between her thumb and index finger. She tilted his chin up, then moved his head to the side as if she were examining him. Then, after a moment the studious look turned into a smile.

“Made up your mind?” Arven asked.

Serana nodded to him. “I have. Do you want to know?”

Arven reached up, gently grasping her wrist and lowering it away from his face. “I think I’ll survive without the knowledge. I’m more concerned with how I got to my bed last night.”

“You mean after you drunk yourself into a stupor?” Serana asked, turning away as she did so.

“After someone forced beer on me, yes,” Arven responded.

“If you’re trying to blame me, you were the one repeatedly filling up your drink.”

“Come on, I’m not quite that gullible,” Arven said. “I might not remember everything, but I do remember you putting the mug in my hands quite a few times.”

“Only because I knew you really wanted it,” Serana quipped. Arven just groaned.

“Actually,” Serana continued. “How much do you remember?”

“Not sure. I just don’t remember anything after the inn. I was dancing, then I woke up,” Arven said. “Why do you ask?”

“Idle curiosity,” Serana responded. Internally she let out a sigh of relief. She was trying to make sense of what she felt, how she felt towards him, and the last thing she needed was trying to explain whatever it was she decided to do the night before.

She was still frustrated at herself for what she did. What she almost did.

“I do remember a dream though, funnily,” Arven said. “I don’t often remember those.”

“Oh, what was it?” Serana asked?

“A dream,” Arven responded, purposefully avoiding the question. “Nothing more.” With a smile he looked to before motioning to the door with his head. “Ready to head off, then?” He asked.

“Well, I don’t suppose I can tempt you into taking a day off?” Serana proposed.

“This again?” Arven asked. “We’re far too busy for that.”

“That’s what makes it that much sweeter, Arven,” Serana said. “Knowing you should be doing something but kicking your feet up instead.”

Arven didn’t respond verbally, instead he just looked at her with a disappointed frown.

“Oh, fine. Let’s go, then,” Serana conceded before walking out the front door, putting her hood on as she did so.

The pair managed to slip out of the city with ease after Serana had placed disguises on them once more. Within the hour, they had taken their horses and started the long journey back towards Volkihar. Shortly after they were out of sight of everyone Serana dropped both of their disguises and softly began to sing to herself.

Arven had gotten used to her idly humming along to a tune, but this was the first time he caught her singing. She was doing it too quietly for him to make out any of the words and the tune itself seemed foreign to him, yet it quickly got caught in his head and he found himself urging his horse closer to try and make out more of the lyrics. He managed to do so, yet as their horses got closer together, Arven’s started to whinny, catching Serana’s attention.

She looked at him, curious. “There’s a lot of road, Arven. You’re awful close.”

Underneath his helmet Arven cursed, pulling his horse away as he mumbled a weak excuse about the animal doing as it pleases. Serana didn’t buy it in the slightest, yet as Arven increased the distance between them once more she sang a little bit louder. Loud enough that Arven could clearly hear.

The tune was beautiful, and just listening it seemed to make the time pass by much quicker than before. While Arven enjoyed the moments of a peaceful journey, Serana found herself wishing they took a carriage again.

The horses were arguably faster, but in a carriage, she could spend her time studying Arven more. Riding side by side, that was noticeably harder for her to do.

The time passed by comfortably, yet before long Arven had a question pop into his mind.

“Serana,” he started. “Are you on good terms with your mother?”

Serana turned to him. “I was about to say that’s an unexpected question, yet with everything you’ve seen I suppose it isn’t.”

“Just, if we’re going to her for help, I’m wondering if I should be prepared for her to be, well, hostile,” Arven continued.

“No, she won’t be hostile. We were always on good terms, close just like any mother and daughter would be. I’d hope that things would still be the same when I see her next,” Serana said.

“Well, it’s nice to hear you had a good relationship with one of your parents at least,” Arven remarked.

Serana let a crooked smile come to her lips. “I suppose so. Before my father became obsessed with the prophecy, mother and I spent quite a bit of time together.”

“Doing normal mother-daughter activities, I hope,” Arven responded.

“Yes,” Serana retorted, sporting an unapproving look. “We actually spent a lot of time together tending her garden.”

“Her… garden?”

Serana squinted at Arven. “Yes, a garden. Is that so hard to believe?”

“I…” Arven paused. “I don’t know. It’s just not what I expected, vampires tending to a garden.”

“We do have normal hobbies, you know.”

“What, like endlessly teasing poor men that’re forced to travel with you?”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand,” Serana quipped. “But yes, gardening. With all the time on our hands, tending to a garden becomes a rather fruitful hobby.”

“Huh, I suppose so,” Arven replied. “Never thought of it that way.”

“Mother was very fond of her alchemical garden in the castle courtyard. She taught me quite a bit about cultivating quality reagents.”

“So, you’re an alchemist?”

“Of sorts, I suppose,” Serana said. “Not that I’ve practised for a while, I’d likely be very out of date given how long I was asleep for. But that was never the point, it was all just an excuse to spend with each other.”

“Sounds like the two of you got along rather well,” Arven commented.

“Like the best of friends,” Serana replied. “She was the one person I would never hesitate to share anything with.”

“You must miss her,” Arven responded.

“I… suppose. I miss how we used to spend time together. The most recent memories I have of her, after my father lost himself in his prophecy, aren’t as fond. I’d try to visit my mother and spend time with her, but she’d quickly shoo me away, saying she was much too busy.”

Arven let out a short grunt in response. “You think she was planning something?”

“I do,” Serana said. “That’s why we’re headed there.”

“Back to the castle on the other side of the province,” Arven said with a clear tone of disapproval.

“Oh, come now, that just means we get to spend more time travelling together. Just the two of us,” Serana said, looking over to Arven with the smile he still wasn’t able to resist.

Arven didn’t respond, instead just placing his hand on his helmet, as if he was ensuring that it was still in place and Serana couldn’t see his expressions.

“Could you take that off?” Serana asked, watching as he adjusted his helmet.

“Take what off?”

“Your helmet.” Serana clarified. Arven looked to her, an eyebrow raised, trying to see if she was being serious.

“I… why?” Arven said.

“It’s not as if you need it on right this second, do you?” Serana said, skirting around the point of his question.

“That’s not the point,” Arven said. “What do I gain from taking it off?”

“Well it only seems fair, doesn’t it? You spend so much time shooting me idle, ‘subtle’ glances as we walk, so why shouldn’t I be able to do the same? When you do it you get to look at me, but when I try, I’m just met with a filthy, battered piece of metal on your head,” Serana argued, sounding as if she was making a point that was logical and rather obvious.

Arven’s breath caught in his throat, forcing him to cough several times before he responded. “…You really can’t help yourself, can you.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with wanting to see your smile on occasion?” Serana asked. To make her point, she smiled at Arven, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to resist admiring it for at least a moment.

Which he did, moments before he shook his head. “Quit teasing me, Serana.”

“Who says I’m teasing? Despite your awful social skills and busted nose, you do have a rather charming smile.” Serana’s voice was dripping with a playful nature, yet there was a soft hint of sincerity underneath.

Arven mentally screamed to himself. Squeezing his horse with his calved and heels, he let the animal pull him away from Serana, refusing to answer her question as the woman trailed behind him.

“Gods, you’re going to drive me insane by the time we get to the castle,” Arven said to himself.

Serana overheard him, but kept her mouth shut. She caught up to him quickly, spurring on her own horse as she let out a small chuckle. Teasing Arven had obviously turned into one of the most enjoyable things for her to do, but it wasn’t all teasing. There was some truth to it.

The conversation dropped off, and Arven was able to enjoy the peaceful serenity of their ride for a while. He did, however, take his helmet off a few minutes later, strapping it to his waist. Serana made no comment, but Arven did notice the occasional glance his way from there on out.

Contrary to his beliefs, Arven wasn’t insane by the end of their journey. Riding on horses had made the trip considerably quicker, although the Imperial would never admit it, and they were able to pass Rorikstead with a significant amount of sunlight still available to them, allowing them to push on. Arven was thankful for that. He didn’t feel up to receiving the fanfare welcome that he would’ve likely gotten if they stayed the night, considering how fresh the dragon attack would have been in the minds of the locals.

They even made it to Dragon Bridge before nightfall, with the sun starting to set towards the horizon.

“We’ll need to figure out where to sleep, if we’re going to at all tonight,” Arven said.

A quip came to Serana’s tongue, although she forced it down. She’d teased him enough for one day. “Is there a place we can rest closer to the castle?” She inquired.

Arven shook his head. “No towns, no. Unless you count Solitude, but that’s a bit out of the way. I’d rather not go there,” he said.

“Popular there, as well?” Serana asked.

“Not… quite,” Arven responded.

“Aren’t you a thane there, as well?”

“Sort of. I…. after the war, they wanted to make me a public figure. A war hero. I declined, and they didn’t take that too well.” Arven said.

“Why did you decline?” Serana asked. Her voice was gentler, as if suggesting Arven didn’t have to respond if he didn’t want to.

“I didn’t fight for the empire. I fought against the Stormcloaks. I didn’t have a part in the fight, until they attacked Whiterun. That made me an enemy of the Stormcloaks shortly after, for obvious reasons,” Arven said. He let out a deep sigh, clearly not too fond of the memories that this brought up.

“Whiterun seemed to be the turning point for the war, after that the Stormcloaks didn’t have much fight left. I tried to stay out of it after that, but a few times I was forced into things. At the end of it, the Empire wanted Skyrim to know I was on their side, but I’m not. There’s still plenty of things they’ve done that I disagree with,” Arven concluded.

“It feels strange, you know,” Serana said. “Sleeping through so many events that have changed so much.”

“It wasn’t much fun to live through, if it makes you feel any better,” Arven replied.

“That’s only because I wasn’t around,” Serana said with a slight smirk.

Despite himself, Arven let a soft smile come to his lips.

“So, do you have an idea of where to look exactly, once we get there?” Arven asked, changing the topic. “I know you mentioned sections had been closed off, but if she’s hiding I can’t imagine we’ll just stumble into her.”

“I’ve got an idea of where to start, at least. Her garden. She used to say that my father couldn’t stand the place. Too… peaceful,” Serana said.

“He couldn’t stand it because it was peaceful?” Arven asked.

Serana sighed, nodding. “I didn’t check back when I was there, mainly because I didn’t want the old memories to come back. But, it’s in the area that’s been closed off. It’s as good a place as any to start.”

“Fair enough. Do you have an idea on how to actually get there?”

“I do,” Serana said. “There’s an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle.”

“Wait, previous owners?” Arven asked. For some reason, the idea of the castle being formerly inhabited had never crossed his mind.

“I don’t know much about them, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” Serana clarified. “Bretons, I think. I wasn’t involved in, well, the moving in process.”

“Lovely,” Arven responded.

“Anyway. I used to run around an old tunnel that exits through that inlet. It should lead us right to the garden, if we go the right way.”

“Please tell me you remember how to get through. I don’t want to accidentally stumble into Harkon’s living room.”

“Not in the mood to roast some more Vampires?” Serana asked.

“I don’t think I’m ever in the mood for that, exactly. But alright, we get to the garden, we find a lead. What happens when we find your mother?”

“What do you mean?” Serana asked, a slight look of confusion on her face.

“I’m sure she’ll have some questions when you rock up with a human alongside you,” Arven asked. He wrapped his hand around the pommel of Dawnbreaker, drawing it a few inches out of its sheath as if to make a point.

“She’ll be fine, I’ll vouch for you,” Serana said. “Hopefully she’ll have some knowledge about the scroll, and then she can help us.”

Arven shuddered for a moment. It had taken him some time to get used to the idea of travelling with Serana, and the only reason he trusted her now was because she’d saved his life. That trust didn’t extend to any of her family members though, and the thought of travelling with two vampire lords was less than pleasant.

“Serana, don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

“You don’t trust her? Or, you won’t, rather?” Serana said, finishing his sentence before he could speak the words.

Arven let out a short sigh, nodding. “You know I trust you, but… I can’t just trust your mother on your word alone.”

Serana frowned. She felt a small pang of… disappointment? Betrayal? She understood where he was coming from, of course. He was being entirely reasonable. The fact that he was so agreeable with her, that he helped her to feed even, still shocked her slightly.

“She’s a good woman, Arven,” Serana said.

“I hope she is. And I hope she hasn’t changed since you last saw her,” Arven replied. “It has been a while, unless she’s been locked away like you were.”

“No, she said she wanted to stay awake in case the situation changed, or was resolved. If father came to his senses,” Serana said. She scoffed at her own remark. “She’s much stronger than I am, so it made sense.”

Arven shuddered. “Stronger than your father?”

Serana paused for a moment. “I… don’t know.”

“If it’s even, then surely between the two of you Harkon shouldn’t be able to put up a fight,” Arven reasoned.

“Easier said than done. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, vampires don’t like risk. Especially when they get older,” Serana said.

“But… That doesn’t make sense, the older they get the stronger they get,” Arven said.

Serana looked at him, offering a shrug. “Remember how my father tried to get the other vampires to kill you? How he still hasn’t done the job himself?”

“I was hoping that was a character-specific trait of his,” Arven said.

“Unfortunately not. Even though he could likely kill you easily, no offense, he doesn’t.”

Arven grunted in response. He didn’t like what Serana said, but she was right. He stood no chance against Harkon.

“He doesn’t understand your strength, so he won’t fight you. Not unless he must,” Serana continued. “My mother is the same. She wouldn’t fight father, I think.”

Arven cursed under his breath. “Well, there goes that idea.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, massaging it as he thought. Then, he turned to face Serana.

“So, what makes you different?” Arven asked.

Serana turned to him, head tilted slightly off to one side. “What makes me willing to fight?” She asked. Arven nodded in response.

“Well, I was bound to have some differences with my parents. And even then, it’s not so much a willingness to fight, more a desire to protect,” she said.

Arven looked over at her. “To protect what?”

Serana didn’t respond, only offering her smile to him once more.

Arven wanted to pull away after that, but he realised that they were quickly entering more mountainous terrain, now that they were passing through Dragon Bridge. While the horses would manage, they’d have to leave them behind at one point, and he decided now was as good a time as any.

“We should leave the horses here. It’s the last town we’ll pass,” Arven said as he directed his horse towards the stables. Serana nodded in agreement, and after a few minutes they’d started walking towards their destination with their horses waiting for their return in Dragon Bridge. Arven stretched out as they walked, far more comfortable on his own feet than in a saddle, while Serana seemed as energised as if she only woke up a little while ago.

 “You really need to get used to riding, Arven,” Serana said.

“No, I just need to not be in a position where I have to ride a horse day after day,” the Imperial responded.

“Surely you must’ve spent a lot of time travelling around Skyrim before this?”

“Yes, but not to this extent. Whiterun to Riften or Whiterun to Solitude, those were generally the two longest trips I had to do. Not travelling from one extreme to the other. Your family chose a really inconvenient location,” Arven remarked.

“Would you prefer they just set up town in the middle of the city?”

Arven frowned. “No, I suppose not,” he resigned. “The castle though, it doesn’t have any sort of… security? Any magic to detect intruders?”

Serana shook her head. “No. I suppose it’s a part of father’s arrogance. Plus, who would willingly go to such a place? Like you said, it’s in a rather awkward location. Visitors aren’t exactly common.

“You’ve got a point,” Arven said. “Can’t say it does much to quiet the nerves, though.”

Serana stepped closer to him as they walked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. There’s no chance that we’d be spotted, and even if we are, we can just run. Father won’t chase us,” she said.

Arven nodded, looking straight ahead. Despite the reassurance, he still felt that familiar pang of worry in his stomach. Thinking of Harkon had that fear rise back up within him, filling a pit of anxiety that threatened to grow throughout his body. He hated that the man had such an effect on him, but that form he took. It terrified Arven.

“Hey, Serana,” Arven said. “Can you use the same form he can?”

Serana had an almost disgusted look come to her face. “Ugh. I can, technically,” she started before her words trailed off. “I… I don’t use it. I can’t remember the last time I used it.”

“I’m assuming it’s something specific to pure-blooded vampires?” Arven asked.

“Your assumption is correct. It’s very, very strong, but I hate it. Plus, I’ve never had the need to,” Serana explained. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, it just occurred to me. You never used it, even when we fought those two dragons,” Arven replied.

“I wouldn’t have been able to then, even if I wanted to. I was far too weak,” Serana stated. “I could now, but there’s no point. It feels… disgusting. Wrong.”

Arven felt slightly better after hearing Serana’s distaste for the form. The idea of her turning into something similar to what Harkon did was something that he hated. He couldn’t understand exactly why, the idea just seemed innately wrong.

“I guess that makes sense. With any luck, such a form won’t be necessary anyway. If this bow is as good as it sounds, that might be enough to stop your father.”

Serana chuckled softly to herself. “You know, now that I think about it, it’s going to take some convincing to win over my mother.”

Arven cocked an eyebrow, looking to her. “Why’s that?”

Serana looked at him. “Oh, you know. ‘Hello mother, so lovely to see you. Say, do you have an Elder Scroll I can borrow? You see this man here, with an undead-slaying daedric sword? Well, I want to help him get a mythical bow so he can kill even more of our kind.’”

Arven let out a mixture of a snort and a brief laugh. “Surely you could word that better,” he said.

Serana shrugged, a smirk on her lips. “I could, but the point is still the same.”

“I’m surprised you know about my sword. Well, your father certainly seemed to recognise it.”

“There’s good reason for that, Arven,” Serana said, looking down at the sheathed blade on the warrior’s waist. “How much do you know about it?”

“Well…” Arven trailed off. He thought back to how he got the weapon. He didn’t like the idea of working with Meridia, but if he had to choose any Daedric Prince, she would be the one he’d work with. Not only that, but at the time they had a common goal.

“I know it was given to me by Meridia, and its purpose is to kill the undead. Beyond that, not much,” Arven said.

“You’re right, although there’s a lot more to it. It’s a sword given to Meridia’s champion, and it was made to combat the undead. Specifically undead born of Molag Bal,” Serana explained.

“Really? I had no idea. I suppose that explains why Harkon seemed so offended when I almost drew the blade then,” Arven said.

“Exactly. Besides this bow, your sword might be the most effective tool when it comes to killing vampires,” Serana replied.

Arven looked down to the blade at his waist. He drew it free, studying the dirty, yet otherwise still pristine metal. “Do you know why she made the blade, specifically?” Arven then asked.

 “Most likely to spite Molag Bal. He and Meridia don’t exactly get along. The denizens of Coldharbour affectionately refer to her as the Shining Bitch.”

Arven let out a proper laugh at that. “You aren’t a fan of her, then?” He asked as he sheathed his sword.

“Not quite, no. She’s at odds with Molag Bal on almost everything. As Vampire Lords we are independent, free to do as we please with the power we have. Meridia has a habit of ‘cleansing’ her followers of free will. ‘Purifying’ them to do as she pleases.”

“No such thing as a good Daedra, is there?” Arven remarked.

“I don’t think so, no. They’re entirely different to us, anyway. We can’t even think to see things the way that they do,” Serana said.

“It’d be nice if they just stuck to Oblivion. Left us alone, at least for a little while,” Arven said.

“Coming from the champion of Meridia,” Serana scoffed. “Don’t you worry that she might have a claim on your soul? You seem very… nonchalant, when handling anything related to the Daedra.”

Arven grunted in response, thinking back to a discussion he had with the Greybeards. “I… I think I might have some sort of immunity,” he said. “My power comes from Akatosh, or so I’ve been told. While some Daedra might try to have a claim on me, I think Akatosh will always hold control over my soul, purely because of who I am. I didn’t believe it at first, but it explained a few things. For example, telling Molag Bal to fuck off,” Arven said.

“I… suppose that makes sense. Still, Arven. It can’t hurt to be careful.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Arven asked.

Serana rolled her eyes at him. As they walked she stepped a little bit closer, but the pair mostly walked in silence for a while longer, until they reached the coastline. Serana lead the way back to the small pier with the rowboat that would take them over to the castle.

As they got near the boat Arven paused, looking out to the horizon to see the towering castle in the distance. He felt that horrid chill run up his spine. He knew that somewhere in that castle, Harkon was waiting. He’d only seen the man for a few minutes, but he found himself becoming more terrified of him with every passing day. Even thinking back to the encounter they had seemed to reinforce his fear.

Serana stepped down towards the boat, only turning back as she noticed he’d stopped in his tracks. “You alright, Arven?”

“You know, since I met you I feel like my brain has been screaming at me to do the opposite of what I’ve been doing for the past weeks,” Arven replied.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Serana asked of him.

Arven smirked underneath the helmet he’d recently placed back on his head. He walked over to the boat, holding his hand out to Serana to help her climb on. She took his extended hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze that he barely noticed as her smile reached him once more. They both sat down, Arven taking the paddles as he started to take them over to castle Volkihar.

I hope this isn’t a bad idea, Arven thought to himself. He couldn’t escape that dread, yet he found the uncomfortable feeling seemed to subside whenever he looked over to Serana.

At that time, the pair were unknowingly thinking the exact same thing.

I must keep them safe.

---

Garan woke. His eyes were wide, looking around as found himself still restrained to the same wall he had been shackled to for a length of time he couldn’t discern. He was right where he’d been brutally tortured, but he felt no pain. Looking up, he found Harkon standing only a few feet away from him. The man had his arms folded, studying Garan with a curious gaze as a small amount of blood ran down the edge of his mouth.

Garan looked down. Where he had ripped and torn flesh, cuts and gashes all along his body, parts of his torso that had been violently removed – that was all gone. His torso had healed itself, free of any scars or pain. He looked to the chains holding him, shackles around his wrists and ankles. Flexing his hands and forearms, he tested the chains.

With a loud yell of defiance, he pulled against the shackles and they tore from the wall with minimal effort. The same happened with the chains around his ankles as he kicked his feet forward, leaving him free. He felt good. He felt powerful.

To his sides stood the two vampires that were complicit in torturing him. They each had shock and terror written over their faces. He knew, deep down that they weren’t responsible for what they did to him. They didn’t have a choice. Yet, they served as the only outlet for his anger.

Raising a hand to one, Garan let electricity crackle around his hand before a violent, powerful burst of lightning flew from his open palm to strike one of the vampires squarely in the chest. The man looked down, mouth agape as his torso had a hole blown right through it. He dropped to the floor, dead, moments later.

Before, Garan had only been marginally stronger than these two men. He could fight them individually, but against two he would’ve been hurt or seriously killed. Now, they seemed to be mere playthings.

The other vampire let out a cry of fear, turning to run as fast as he could. Garan was upon him in a moment, running to catch the man by the back of the neck before throwing him face-first into one of the stone walls. The satisfying crunch of bones in the man’s skull made Garan laugh.

He made the cowering vampire look at him, just as Garan let the new blood in his body surge. He grinned before a powerful, terrible roar came from him. Tattered wings burst free from his back as his claws grew long, his skin grew pale and his face took on a demonic, twisted visage. The cowering vampire, who now had a face that was almost unable to be recognised as it had been crushed leaving his nose, jaw and skull fractured and broken, tried his best to scream.

“Do not waste this,” a voice from behind Garan said. “Should you squander this gift, I will not hesitate to make this past day seem like the most joyful part of your existence.”

Garan turned to the source of the voice, looking over at Harkon. With the cowering vampire still in his hand, Garan bowed deeply to Harkon on one knee, just as he slammed his prey down against the floor beneath him, killing him with ease as he crushed his skull underneath an open palm.

“Of course, my lord,” Garan said.

“Good. Now, bring me the Imperial, and my daughter with him. As long as Serana is still breathing, I don’t care for what condition they might be in when they arrive. I will accept no more excuses.”

Notes:

Hello again! I'm back, admittedly after a long delay. I am still continuing this story, even though it's been a while. I hope you're all doing well and staying safe leading into the holidays! Once again, thank you to everyone who's read my story, I hope you've all found some level of enjoyment from it.

Chapter 13: The Ruins of Volhikar

Arven had pulled the small boat up to the shoreline, west of the main entrance to the castle. The trip took slightly longer as he skirted around the side of the island to try and stay out of sight, but he didn’t care how long it would take as long as they could get in and out without being noticed.

He knew that there was only one person watching guard, and that person was far up the main entrance, but the knowledge did little to calm his nerves. As they climbed out of the boat he looked to Serana, her face completely calm as if they were strolling through the plains outside of Whiterun.

How can she be so relaxed?

She wasn’t. Internally Serana was feeling a rare sense of apprehension. She just wanted to put on a show for Arven, to reassure him.

As soon as they were on the shore, the boat resting on land to stop it from floating away, Arven secured his helmet and drew his sword with his shield resting on his left arm. The dull glow from Dawnbreaker illuminated the grey rocks beneath his feet as the blade pointed down. Just as he went to raise his arm to a readied stance though, Serana stepped in front of him.

She looked back with a smile. “Just let me take the lead for the first bit, okay? It can get confusing pretty quickly if you don’t know where you’re going.”

Arven raised a brow beneath his helmet, but nodded. He didn’t relax his stance, but he let her take the lead. He felt odd, having someone who was essentially unarmed in comparison standing out in front of him like this. Serana hadn’t even drawn the blade at her waist.

“If you say so,” Arven said. “I’m guessing it’s dark, anyway. Makes more sense to have you go first.”

“Run out of potions? That’s unlike you,” Serana remarked.

“No, but I don’t have many left. If I don’t need to use them, I’d rather not.” As he said that he placed a hand on the vials around his waist. He only had two night-eye potions left. The warrior knew he should restock, but he found himself getting oddly distracted as of late.

The pair walked along the shoreline until it dipped to the side, their vision blocked by rocks towering up to form the foundation for the castle. They were well and truly below Volkihar now, the towering spires filling Arven’s vision if he was to look up towards the foundations.

“It’s just around this bend. There might be guards, be careful,” Serana said.

As soon as Serana went to round the corner she paused. Her hand opened up, lighting starting to crackle between her fingertips. The moment he saw that Arven jogged to her side, peering out to see a group of skeletal archers around what appeared to be a rather large dock. It was big, even for a castle.

As soon as he noticed the skeletons who, as of yet, hadn’t noticed their presence, Arven drove the tip of Dawnbreaker into the ground and started to focus magics around his arm, preparing to summon a bow.

It was a rather useless gesture.

Within the blink of an eye, Arven’s vision went incredibly bright as a series of booms echoed out. He let his eyes re-adjust, and found each skeleton had been blown to pieces, while Serana stood with a hand outstretched. Lightning was still dancing between her fingertips.

“Right, of course,” Arven said. “Remind me why I’m even needed, again?”

“Entertainment,” Serana quipped. “Keeping up morale. You know, the important things,” she continued with a cocky smirk.

“Good to know I’m valued,” Arven replied. “By the way, don’t you think that was excessively loud?”

Serana shook her head as she started walking again. “No, we’re too far down for anything we do to be heard.” Looking up, Serana tilted her head as she stared at the looming castle above the pair. “The castle looks so big from down here. I mean, it is big, but well, even bigger.”

“Aren’t you eloquent,” Arven said.

Serana turned to him, a rather unamused expression on her lips. She extended a finger towards Arven, lightning still dancing around the digit. “Care to repeat that?”

Arven pursed his lips, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

The look on Serana’s face turned back to a smile instantly. “Good.”

They both continued to walk towards the dock, climbing stairs while stepping over a surprising amount of rubble. The place was in serious need of not just a thorough cleaning, but proper repairs before it could even be considered as being remotely usable.

“I’m guessing Harkon didn’t have much use for shipments?” Arven asked.

“Rarely,” Serana replied. “When he did he normally used thralls, so there was no need to keep the appearance of a normal dock. I honestly can’t remember the last time we received anything that wasn’t, well… food.”

As they passed the skeletons, Arven had the urge to stab each one through the head as he usually did. The only reason he didn’t was since they had been so completely obliterated by the lightning, that there didn’t seem to be a need.

“Just through here,” Serana said as they approached a door. “You might want to hold your breath, just in case.”

“Sure, but why would I-“ As he spoke Arven was instantly cut off the second Serana opened the door. He raised a hand to his helmet, trying to cover his mouth as he coughed and gagged while stepping out of the entrance.

“Water cistern,” Serana said. “And unfortunately, commonly used to dispose of… garbage, by lazy members of the court.”

Arven spent a minute regaining his composure. He took a vial out of his belt, one with a particularly offensive, potent smell and inhaled deeply. It wasn’t nice, but it was far better than the alternative. The scent lingered in his nostrils for a bit and he stepped into the darkness alongside Serana.

“Lovely, I didn’t need to smell or see anyway,” Arven said.

“Do you need to hold my hand, Arven?” Serana quipped.

Arven let out a sarcastic laugh. “Very funny.” Using his sword as a torch, Arven raised it to his side, looking at the worn-down stone walls that they walked past. The sword wasn’t bright enough to offer much assistance, but he could at least see his feet.

“So why did you ever want to spend time down here?” Arven asked.

“It was quiet,” Serana responded. “No one else ever came down here, so I could get away and have some time to myself.”

“In a castle this big, this is the only place you can think of?” Arven responded.

Serana smirked. “I always ended up running into someone as long as I stayed within the main halls of the castle, regardless of where I went. It felt like I was being constantly checked up on. Monitored.” As they continued to walk Serana lead Arven down what seemed like a maze of twists and turns.

“Down here though, no one ever wanted to follow,” she continued.

“Well, I can’t blame them,” Arven responded.

As they kept walking, eventually Serana came to a stop. She paused, silent as she looked off to the side. Then she raised a single hand, lightning starting to crackle about her fingers once more. She spoke a single word.

“Don’t,” she said.

Arven couldn’t hear a thing in response, at first. Then, he heard a hiss quickly followed by Serana’s hand blasting the source of the noise with destruction magic. In the dim light, the sudden blast filled his surroundings with a blinding white light for a moment, leaving him disoriented.

Shortly after casting her spell Serana let out a soft sigh, sounding almost remorseful. After he could see again Arven walked closer as he held out his sword to get a better view. The thing that Serana had attacked was lying back against a wall, a young-looking woman who took the blast from Serana straight on, leaving her without an arm and a large chunk of her torso. The sight was grotesque and Arven almost felt a little sick.

“Shit Serana, was that really necessary?” Arven asked. He was trying to push back those intrusive thoughts once more, the ones telling him that Serana was nothing more than a savage beast hiding under a layer of beauty.

“Look in her mouth,” Serana replied. Arven did so, holding his illuminated blade closer. He saw fangs.

“Wait, what?” Arven started. He went to continue, but found he was at a loss for words.

“A vampire. She was feral,” Serana responded before she continued walking, looking over her shoulder to motion Arven to follow.

“Feral? How is there a feral vampire here?” Arven retorted.

“My only guess is that she somehow lost the favour of the court. Upset my father and was banished but didn’t know where to go. So she starved, down here in the darkness.” Serana explained.

Arven didn’t know if he should feel sympathy for the creature or not. On one hand being left to starve was a horrible way to lose your sanity. On the other hand, she was a vampire. He looked back to Serana.

“Is this something that happened often?” He asked.

“Not common, but not rare enough that this is a shock,” Serana responded. A second later the look on her face instantly changed, turning into the darkness as electricity started to crackle around her hands once more.

Arven raised his sword and shield, moving to stand to her side but Serana positioned herself in front of him as she raised a single hand back to him. “Don’t, just let me handle this,” Serana said in a surprisingly forceful tone.

Arven paused, and only then did he hear the familiar sounds of Death Hounds approaching.

“Serana I’m not going to let you handle everything on your own,” he said. Serana seemed to ignore him, and a second later Arven was shielding his eyes from the blinding lights as the Death Hounds were taken care of in a matter of seconds.

He didn’t see how many there were but judging from their dying screams he counted at least four. After the first few bursts of destruction magic he opened his eyes, only to see Serana drawing her blade as she moved between two more beasts, cutting them down in such an elegant manner that it seemed as if she was merely dancing. She was incredibly fast, fast enough that Arven knew he’d have trouble blocking a serious attack from her.

Frowning beneath his helmet Arven raised a hand, letting a bright yellow light glow from his fingers. By pooling restorative magic without letting it go he formed a sort of make-shift torch, lighting up the room around them. Now that he could count, there was a total of 6 hounds, and Serana didn’t even seem to be out of breath.

“You know, I never liked these things,” Serana said. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

Something felt off to Arven in the way Serana was handling this. She wasn’t the type to shy away from a fight, but he felt like he was being coddled. He kept his thoughts to himself though, for the time being.

The cistern was surprisingly confusing to get around. With every twist and turn Arven lost his sense of direction very quickly, being completely lost without Serana’s help. Eventually they came to a bridge that turned off into two different directions. Serana took them one way, leading towards a room that had spiked balls dangling from the ceiling.

“This really doesn’t seem like the right way to go,” Arven said.

“It’s father’s paranoia. A while ago he started having this entire place turned into more of a maze. Wanted it to be impossible for someone to pass through,” Serana said. “He just doesn’t realise that I know this place like the back of my hand. Oh, don’t get poked. I’m fairly sure there’s some diseases on these things.”

Serana walked at a regular pace through the traps, moving her body around them without even trying while Arven followed slowly, using his shield to protect himself. It took them a little bit longer, walking through confusing corridors and finding hidden switches before they finally managed to see the light of day once more. Stepping out into the dim sunlight, Arven watched as Serana broke into a small jog.

“Oh, oh no…,” Serana breathed. “What happened to this place?”

As Arven walked out into the open, thankful for some proper light again, he saw what seemed to be the ruins of a once beautiful garden. Dead trees littered the courtyard, rotting bark that carried no foliage. Garden beds that seemed to have been trampled, with the only remaining life being common weeds. Stone paths that had been upturned, destroyed. It looked as if a dragon had landed, torn things to shreds, then left. Arven even noticed one of the exits from the area had been totally caved in, the door buried under tons of stone and rubble.

“What happened to this place?” Serana asked. “Everything’s been torn down. The whole place looks, well… dead.”

Arven walked alongside Serana, sheathing he sword as he did so. “Hey Serana, your mother kind of sucked at gardening.”

Serana, who looked as if she was starting to be overcome with emotion, turned to Arven and punched him in the arm. Despite the smile he put on her face, her eyes were glassy, and she turned away quickly.

Arven flinched, rubbing his arm that was almost certainly bruised – even under the armour he wore. “You really liked this place, didn’t you?” He asked.

Serana nodded in return. “I did. I do,” she corrected. “I spent countless hours here with mother. I have so many memories of this place.” Serana continued to walk around, slowly strolling past the garden beds, reaching out to place her hand on the rotting bark of one of the trees. She looked rather solemn, and Arven couldn’t do much but stand around, trying to be respectful of her mourning. While he didn’t understand the attachment personally, it seemed to mean a lot to her. Because of that, Arven found that it meant quite a bit to him as well.

“We must be the first to set foot here in centuries,” Serana said. She had walked up to the door that was now caved in, her look turning to one of anger instead of sorrow. “This used to lead into the castle’s great hall. It looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once…”

Arven didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say to make things better, so he kept his lips sealed. He just watched as Serana walked back down, then straight towards him. Serana found that she was oddly emotional, more-so than she would’ve thought after returning. She hated how it made her feel, so she decided to do the one thing which she knew would clear her head.

She approached Arven and rested her head across his chest, her arms gently wrapping around his waist. Arven just froze for a moment, arms hanging by his sides as he looked down.

“Uhh, Serana-“ he started, before being cut off.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Serana said as she hugged him tighter. Almost instantly she felt calmer, and after Arven unfroze and hesitantly wrapped his arms back around her, she felt at peace. She was a little bit worried about just how much of an effect he had on her, but that was something to concern herself with another time.

Arven felt awkward. He even had a small moment of déjà vu, but he found that he didn’t exactly hate it. He expected his heart rate to jump up, as it normally did, but instead he felt calm. With his arms wrapped around her back, he rested his chin on Serana’s head and waited for her to break the embrace. The voice in the back of his head yelling at him, berating him, it was almost entirely silent now.

“This was my mother’s garden,” Serana said, burying her face into Arven’s chest. “Do you know how beautiful something can be when it’s tended by a master for hundreds of years?” She asked.

“She would’ve hated to see it like this,” Serana gently whispered.

“This isn’t permanent,” Arven replied. “It can be remade again.”

Serana had a gentle smile come across her lips. “I suppose you’re right,” she said as she turned her head, resting her other cheek on his chest. Her eyes were drawn to the moon dial in the centre of the courtyard, which caused her to frown.

“Hang on,” she said as she broke the embrace, walking towards the centrepiece. “Something’s wrong with the moon dial here.”

“What, they forgot to make it a sun dial instead?” Arven quipped. Serana seemed less than impressed.

Breaking off their embrace Serana walked over, although her fingers reached out behind her to linger on Arven’s chest as she walked away. Arven finally felt his heart jump. He felt a small longing. He felt sad that he no longer had her in his arms, and that emotion itself led to confusion. He waited for the other part of his mind to speak up, to tell him that he was being foolish, but it didn’t come. It was silent.

That worried him, just a little bit.

“I don’t think a sun dial would really fit the theme of this place, Arven,” Serana retorted. “But no, some of the crests are missing.” Serana squatted down near the edge of the dial, her fingers running over a groove in the ground. Arven walked over and saw what she was talking about, a series of circular grooves running around the perimeter of the dial. Each one seemed to represent a phase of the moon, yet some of them had been pulled out.

“Did anyone else ever come here?” Arven asked.

“No, never,” Serana replied. “Father did once, maybe twice. That was only when he needed something though. None of the other members really shared mother’s interest in gardening. Plus, they were all scared of her.”

“Scared?”

“Yes, just as they’re afraid of father. Vampire Lords don’t tend to invite friendly company,” Serana explained. Then she turned to him, looking up with a smile. “Just the sarcastic, annoying type I suppose.”

Arven folded his arms across his chest, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “So, what’re we looking for exactly?”

Serana pointed to each of the empty grooves on the floor. “The discs that belong in these. They’ve been deliberately taken out, not destroyed as collateral in father’s rage. We should try to find them.”

Arven looked around the courtyard. He couldn’t see any obvious places to hide a disk at first. As he looked around Serana had started searching their surroundings and Arven couldn’t help but notice that she did so with an incredibly delicate touch, as if she was still trying to preserve the garden.

Looking around, eventually Arven came to one of the garden beds. The bed was mostly empty, with only some dead roots and small plants still present that had long since become rotten. Sinking his gloves into the soil he started to dig, pulling up the dead plants.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Serana called out, walking over to Arven.

“Digging, what’s it look like?” Arven replied without looking back.

“Do you have to?” Serana replied. Arven turned his head, looking back at Serana. She had her arms wrapped across her torso, holding herself with a solemn look on her face. Arven let out a soft sigh. While the gardens all looked destroyed to him, he didn’t think that continuing to tear things up might upset Serana even more.

“Sorry, Serana. We just have to look everywhere if we want-“ Arven cut himself off as he felt something in the soil. Grabbing hold of it he pulled out one of the disks, brushing the dirt off with his other hand before holding it out to Serana, as if he was providing evidence of his innocence.

 “Have to be thorough if we want to find your mother,” he finished.

Serana reached out, grabbing the disc from Arven’s hands. She nodded in response to his words but didn’t verbally respond, walking back over to the moon dial to replace the disc into its groove.

The two of them kept looking, with Arven trying his best to be respectful of the area before they finally managed to return all the discs. As Serana placed the final disc into its respective slot, the moon dial began to turn. Arven could hear the workings of a mechanism beneath the dial as it moved in the stone, the floor around it slowly changing, morphing shape as a descending spiral staircase came into view.

“Very clever mother, very clever,” Serana said. The two of them walked down the stairs, only after Serana ensured that she was in front, finding a door leading to dimly lit tunnels.

“I’ve never been here before, but I’d bet these tunnels run towards the tower ruins. It feels like we’re getting closer,” Serana continued.

“I hope you’re right,” Arven said. “As long as we’re moving in the opposite direction of the main hall.”

“We are, don’t worry,” Serana confirmed. “Let’s keep going.”

Eventually the tunnels opened back up into one of the many towers that made up the castle, a tower that was derelict inside. Cobwebs spanned across the roof, rubble was everywhere, and furniture had been upturned, broken or had simply rotted away within the many rooms inside.

“This place looks like it hasn’t been touched for centuries,” Arven commented.

“It probably hasn’t,” Serana said. “I don’t how many people used to live here, but the Castle is huge. There simply aren’t enough members of the court to fully populate it.”

“So do you really think your mother is hiding in here, somewhere?” Arven asked.

“I don’t know. It seems unlikely, but the tunnel leading here and the moon dial, that’s no coincidence. At the very least, we should be able to find a hint. Something,” Serana said.

The two walked into a surprisingly large dining hall, a long table in the centre of the room with lavish, yet ruined chairs pulled up to the table. Skeletons were seated at most of the chairs, cobwebs running all over their bones with a thick layer of dust resting across them.

“Lovely,” Arven commented as he tightened the grip on his sword. He started to walk towards the closest chair, ready to ensure that the skeletons wouldn’t be a threat, but Serana stopped him. She stepped in front of him before waving a hand towards the table. A deathly cold chill filled the air, and a second later each of the Skeletons now had a thin coating of ice along their bones. With a snap of her fingers, Serana made the ice violently explode, causing each skeleton to be decimated within the blink of an eye. Bones shattered, and all that remained was a mixture of bone and ice resting in each of the chairs.

Serana’s casual mastery of destruction magic was something that the best mages at the College would be highly envious of. It was also a source of mild discomfort for Arven still. Not because he was afraid of Serana, but because it reminded him of just how powerful a different Vampire Lord was bound to be.

Stepping forward, Arven turned to Serana. “I can handle some skeletons, you know,” he said.

“Well I should hope so,” Serana replied. “Where did that come from?”

Arven tilted his head, studying her expression. “You’re being a bit… protective.”

Serana placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head. “What, I’m not allowed to flex my magic on occasion?”

“Well sure, but… a couple of skeletons aren’t going to hurt me, you know,” Arven responded.

Serana rolled her eyes, turning back as she kept walking through the room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Arven,” she said. It was an obvious lie, one that Arven was able to see through, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She knew a few skeletons posed no threat, but the thought of him fighting brought back images in her mind of Arven bloodied and near death, with a vampire sinking its fangs into his neck.

If she took a few extra seconds to get to him back in Whiterun when they were attacked he could’ve died. Thinking about that scared her in a way that nothing else did.

“Come on, we’re getting close,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Do you know anything about this place?” Arven asked.

Serana shook her head, observing their surroundings as they started to climb some stairs. A gargoyle was looming at the end of the staircase, and a second later the statue’s head had been blown off by destruction magic. Serana wasn’t taking any chances.

“I had always just assumed that this tower was completely destroyed inside,” Serana continued. As they walked past the destroyed gargoyle Arven looked over the remains, charred stone that had cracks all throughout the torso while the head had been entirely obliterated.

“My mother kept this a secret, even from me,” Serana noted. “She must have been up to something she thought was dangerous.”

“What would even count as being dangerous to her, though?” Arven mused.

“Besides father, and specific artefacts? I have no idea,” Serana said.

Eventually they walked into a wide, open room. Two gargoyles were resting on the far side of the room, towering high as they remained entirely still. Serana blasted one without hesitation, destroying it within the blink of an eye. As soon as she did the other one sprung to life, the outer layer of stone breaking away as it charged directly at her.

Another flick of her wrist and the statue had been cast to the side, broken in half by a blast of lightning directly to its chest. What Serana didn’t realise though, was the sound of stone breaking masked the approach of two more gargoyles that had been hidden above them as they walked into the room. She heard a crash as one smashed into Arven’s shield followed by a shriek coming from the beasts.

Serana immediately spun around, her eyes wide in a panic as she readied more magics in her hand, but she needn’t have. As soon as the first one charged Arven spun around, raising his shield just in time to deflect the charge off to one side. As he did he stepped towards the second gargoyle, thrusting Dawnbreaker right though its chest. After slaying the beast he spun on his heel, drawing the blade free before slamming the second beast across the head with his shield, followed by his blade severing head from neck.

Each beast fell to the ground, silent, as Arven barely broke out in a sweat. He had been caught off guard by gargoyles once, but once he knew their trick they were easy enough to manage. They lacked intelligence and were incredibly easy to predict.

“Bloody annoying things,” Arven remarked before looking up, finally seeing Serana facing towards him with magics surging around her hands, her eyes wide. “Uh, Serana?”

Serana quickly snapped herself out of it, dropping her arms as she exhaled, the magic leaving her fingers. “Good to know those don’t give you trouble anymore,” she said. She tried to feign a casual tone of voice, but there was an uncommon shakiness to her words. She went to turn around, but Arven approached and placed a hand on her shoulder. He took off his helmet, looking her in the eyes before she turned her gaze away.

“Seriously, Serana. What’s going on?” He asked.

“It’s nothing, really. I don’t know what you think is happening, but I’m fine,” Serana responded. With his helmet off, Serana’s eyes went to the scar on his neck. The skin was still healing, showing a visible mark where flesh had been torn away by the vampire. His neck was whole, but the skin was disfigured and coarse.

Arven noticed her eyes drifting down, then reached up to place two fingers on his neck.

“I’ve survived much worse than that Serana. You don’t need to worry,” he said as he gave her a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

“Like another vampire ready to blow you to pieces while you’re being feasted on?” Serana retorted in a slightly harsher tone than he meant to use.

“Like dragons. Plural. I would’ve survived if you didn’t show up when you did,” Arven said as he tried to reassure her, trying to hide the fact that he was lying.

“You looked like death, Arven,” Serana replied, her voice almost a whisper.

“And that was what, a few days ago? Now I’m fine. Really, I’m sturdier than you think,” he continued.

Serana turned her gaze away again, reaching up to rub at her eyes. Arven thought he saw a small amount of moisture, but she turned away before he could confirm it. Serana started to walk towards the other side of the room, finding the staircase to continue their climb upwards.

“Just keep an eye out, I don’t know how many more of these things are lying around,” Serana said as she stepped over the remains of one of the gargoyles.

Arven followed shortly after. He wanted to ask Serana why she was being the way she was, but he didn’t feel like he’d be able to get through to her currently. “So, why are there so many gargoyles here exactly?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“It’s not all too surprising. Mother had a thing for magical constructs,” she said. Arven failed at supressing a small snort of amusement, causing Serana to turn around for a moment.

“Not what you’re thinking,” she clarified.

“No idea what you mean,” Arven said as he raised a hand, as if pledging his innocence.

“You’re horrible,” Serana said as she turned back. “She enjoyed making constructs, bringing them to life. She studied how to make them stronger. I think she mentioned something about replacing the  need for thralls as warriors.”

Arven grunted in response. A crude thought came to mind, but it didn’t seem like the best time to jest, so he kept it to himself. After climbing another set of stairs they came to a dead end, a room that had a few more skeletons littered about with a table and a fireplace. Serana stood in the middle of the room, arms folded as she looked about.

“Well, this isn’t what I was hoping for,” she said. Arven didn’t respond. Instead he was walking around the walls, running his fingers along the stone while looking for any irregularities.

“What’re you doing, Arven?” Serana asked.

“Looking,” he replied curtly as he approached the fireplace. He pressed against the back wall of the pit, but there was no budge.

“Looking for what?”

Instead of replying, Arven kept searching. Eventually he placed a hand on the candlestick and found it had some budge to it. So, he turned it, and shortly after the wall of the fireplace gave way, retracting into the ground to reveal another passage.

“For this,” Arven replied as he hid the smug on his face underneath his helmet.

“How did you…”

“There had to be something here. Wouldn’t be gargoyles littered about the place protecting nothing,” he explained.

“Huh. Well, let’s go then,” Serana responded before she stepped into the passage, the light dimming significantly. They walked up a few more flights of stairs before emerging into a wide, open room. Bookshelves littered the walls, lined with a mixture of books and alchemical ingredients. Stairs led to an upper level, littered with more shelves and desks along with an alchemy table, while in the very centre of the room was a stone circle engraved into the floor. A quick glance at the ingredients told Arven, even with his limited alchemical knowledge, that these ingredients were almost certainly for darker practises than your standard potion crafting.

“Look at this place. This has to be it!” Serana said as she looked over the shelves. Her fingers ran over the spines of books, glancing over each one while studying the different ingredients. “I knew she was into necromancy. I mean, she taught me everything I know, but I had no idea she had a setup like this.”

“You know necromancy? What am I saying, of course you do,” Arven said.

Serana nodded. “Just never felt the need to use it. Plus, I can’t imagine you’d enjoy that too much,” she said with a half-smile.

Arven sighed. He was appreciative of her consideration, but he was once again reminded of what she was.

“Look at all this,” Serana muttered to herself. “She must have spent years collecting these components.” She spent her time walking about the room, primarily looking at the ingredients she found, as if trying to determine what their purpose was. Eventually she stopped in the centre, standing in the depressed circle.

“And what’s this?” She asked of no one in particular. “I’m not sure what it’s for, but it’s obviously… something.”

“You mean… a circle?” Arven said. He just couldn’t help himself.

Serana frowned. Stepping over to a nearby bookshelf, she picked up a book and threw it at Arven. He raised his arms, blocking his head as the book hit his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “And here I thought you’d be more respectful of your mother’s belongings.

Serana’s eyes went wide as he said that, as if she didn’t realise what she’d done. Walking over, she picked up the book, brushing the dust off of it before placing it back in the shelf.

“Let’s take a look around,” Serana said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “There has to be something here that tells us where she’s gone, or at least gives us another hint.” Serana started scanning the bookshelves with more care than before, picking out several books and flicking through them before placing them back.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Arven asked as he idly walked around, ignoring the creeps he got from observing the place. The more he looked, the more sinister it became. Blood stains, poisons, books on necromancy, soul gems and more.

“See if you can find some of her notes. My mother was meticulous about her research, there might be some hints in anything she’s written,” Serana said.

Nodding, Arven went to the opposite side of the room to Serana. He started leafing through various books, trying not to avoid the darker topics as he wanted to be thorough yet some of the things he read made his stomach turn. Particularly the passages based around the various uses of the dead.

“Your mother, uh… maintained quite the laboratory,” Arven said to fill the silence. His voice showed his discomfort obviously, but Serana was too wrapped up in her own work to realise.

“I had no idea that this place even excited,” Serana said with a hint of wonder. “She had an alchemy setup in her drawing room, but nothing that even comes close to what’s here. I could spend weeks going through all these notes.”

Arven pushed down the thoughts of Serana practising necromancy. He knew she had in the past, but that didn’t make it any easier to imagine. He put another book back, reaching out to pick up a smaller book this time. Plain, black and leather wrapped.

“I really hope nothing creepy is going to jump out of the shadows,” Arven said.

“Why would that happen?” Serana asked as she kept her nose buried in a book.

“Whatever your mom was researching here, it doesn’t exactly seem like a wholesome sort of thing to study,” Arven commented.

“I suppose necromancy isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. Well, I assume it’s necromancy, judging by everything I’ve seen,” Serana stated.

“To what end, though? More power?” Arven asked.

“I don’t know,” Serana mused. “Longevity, perhaps?”

Arven rolled his eyes underneath his helmet, turning back to Serana. “And you call me sarcastic. I almost don’t want to share this with you now,” he said as he held up a book.

Serana’s eyes turned to him, then lit up when she saw what Arven was holding. “Is that it?!” She ran over, dropping her book as she plucked the one from Arven’s hands. Opening the book, she then looked up to press a finger against the man’s helmet right where his forehead would be, grinning at him.

“Good job,” she said with a smirk before turning on her heel, her hair spinning behind her as she did so. Strands of the wine-red hair brushed against Arven’s chest, leaving him with her lingering scent, an incredibly intoxicating smell that was enough by itself to captivate nearly any man.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to himself. “So, what exactly is a soul cairn?” When flicking through the notes, that was the first thing he noticed. Repeated mentions of a ‘Soul Cairn’, something he’d never heard of.

Serana paused in her tracks, turning back to him. “I only know what she told me. She had a theory about soul gems, that the souls don’t just vanish when they’re used.”

“This is already sounding rather grim,” Arven said.

Serana shrugged. “She hypothesised that they end up in the Soul Cairn. It’s a place home to immensely powerful beings, a place that necromancers bargain with. They send them souls and receive powers of their own in return.”

“Wonderful,” Arven said. “Sounds like a relaxing place.”

“I think my mother was trying to travel there directly.”

“Really? It almost sounds like some sort of twisted afterlife. Is going there even possible?”

“Maybe. Technically, vampires are dead, so why shouldn’t we be able to go?”

Arven sighed. He stepped up to the engraved circle in the centre of the room, banishing thoughts of a dead Serana from his mind. “So what, this is a… portal?”

Serana nodded. “I believe so. If I’m reading this right, there’s a formula here that should give us safe passage into the Soul Cairn. Just wait here, I’ll go hunting for them.”

“Fine by me,” Arven said to no one in particular. He crossed his arms over his chest, a small golden light radiating from the palm of his hand. He found it oddly comforting, as if he was bringing some light, some life into this place that had been forsaken of it for so long.

While trying to clear his mind, he ended up watching Serana from behind as she walked about the room, scooping up various ingredients and talking to herself under her breath. He was only snapped out of his daze when she called out.

“Damn it. I knew this wouldn’t be easy,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Arven asked as she looked up. Serana was standing on the platform above them, near a pedestal of some kind with a bowl at the top, clearly for mixing ingredients in. He started to walk up to join her.

“We need a sample of her blood. Which… if we could get that, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” she sighed.

“So, use your own blood,” Arven said.

Serana paused, thinking to herself for a moment. “Hmmm. Not bad. That might actually work,” she agreed.

“Seems like an odd thing to ask for, though. A specific vampire’s blood for a portal,” Arven said.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. We’d better hope that this is good enough though. Mistakes with these kinds of portals can be… gruesome. Anyway, that’s enough of that. Let’s get started.”

“Can I ask you something first?” Arven spoke up.

“Of course, what is it?” Serana asked, turning back to face him as she took a few steps over to close the distance between the two of them.

“What will you do if we actually find your mother?”

Serana looked off to the side, her lips pursed. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing since we came back to the castle. She was so sure of what we did to my father, I couldn’t help but go along with her,” she said. “I never really thought of the cost.”

Arven exhaled through his nose. He opened his mouth but was unsure if he should say what was on his mind. He didn’t want to sour Serana’s mood. Despite that though, he spoke up.

“Honestly Serana, it sounds like she was pretty selfish.”

Serana looked back to him, a scowl almost crossing her face before her expression turned soft once more. “She wasn’t always, but… I think you’re right. When I think back, she was practically smirking as we fled home. Almost like she was proud of herself, even though she was taking her daughter to lock her away for hundreds of years.”

Arven didn’t know the right words to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

“The more I think about it, the more I feel like she didn’t want to just stop my father. She wanted to beat him, she wanted to win, even if it meant using me as a pawn,” Serana continued.

Arven stepped closer, reaching out to place his hands on Serana’s, giving them a quick squeeze. It was an intimate gesture, one that Arven wasn’t entirely comfortable with, but he found himself wanting to comfort her.

“That doesn’t matter now, though. I’m just happy I’ve got one person who actually cares about me,” Serana said in the sweetest voice possible. She looked up at Arven, gazing into his eyes through the small slits in his helmet as her beautiful smile reached him once more.

“Alright,” Serana continued. “Let’s get this over with.”

While he tried to shake the fluttering feeling in his chest, Arven leaned against one of the handrails around the upper platform, watching idly as Serana started to mix all of the ingredients together. At the end she drew her dagger, slicing her hand to let blood pour out into the mix. The flesh knitted itself back together shortly after, leaving no visible mark or scar.

As soon as all the required ingredients had been combined Arven felt the floor around him shift. He reached out to hold onto the railings for support as the engraved circle in the centre of the room gave way, stone stairs rising out to meet them at the top of their platform as a ghastly sort of energy seemed to come out from the ground. The sight made Arven take a few steps back, while Serana edged forward.

“By the blood of my ancestors,” Serana whispered. “She actually did it. She created a portal to the Soul Cairn.” Serana stood at the edge of the stairs descending down, her eyes lit up with a sense of wonder. “Incredible.”

She turned back to Arven, a look of excitement on her face. “Well, are you ready to go? We might just be the second and third people to ever enter this place.”

Arven didn’t respond. He felt something bad coming from the portal. But he couldn’t back out now, so he took a few steps forward. It felt surprisingly fine as he moved to the stop step but suddenly he felt a lurching sickness coming from his chest, the feeling of something trying to tear his very essence away. The feeling reminded him of the horrid sensation of absorbing a dragon’s soul, yet in reverse. He felt like his soul was being torn away from him.

After a moment of initial shock he backed away as fast as he could, almost stumbling before he ended up flat against the fall, his chest rising and falling quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Serana moved to him in an instant, pulling his helmet off and wiping his hair from his eyes before her palms came to rest on his cheeks.

“Hey, hey! Arven, are you okay? That looked painful,” she said with a worried look.

“It was,” Arven breathed as he managed to get his heart rate under control. “It felt like my soul was being ripped out from my chest.”

Serana cursed under her breath, pulling her hands away after ensuring that Arven was alright. “Now that I think about it, I should have expected that. Sorry,” she said with an apologetic look.

“What do you mean? Do you know what that was?”

“It’s not called the Soul Cairn for no reason. It… well, it’s hungry for lack of a better word. It’s probably trying to take your life essence as payment for passage.”

Arven exhaled, picking up his helmet that Serana had placed off to the side before placing it back on, an action that got a small frown of disapproval from the vampire. “So, what now? I don’t like the idea of you going in alone,” he said.

“There might be a way in, but likely not for you,” Serana said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can pass through without issue because I’m a vampire. So, if you were-“

“No,” Arven immediately said, cutting off the train of thought before it could go any further.

Serana had a solemn smile come across her face as a strange emotion welled up within her. Was that… disappointment?

“I figured, but I had to ask. Sorry,” Serana said.

“So there’s no way in, unless you kill me and drag me in over your shoulder,” Arven stated.

Serana ran her hands through her hair, appearing deep in thought for a moment. She walked over to a nearby table, picking up a large crystal-like object. “Maybe. We might be able to trick it. Pay the ‘toll’ another way,” she said.

“And how would we do that? Trick it into thinking that I’m dead?” Arven asked.

Serana turned to him, holding up the soul gem in her hand. “We give it a soul. Yours.”

“Uh,” Arven stuttered. “I’ll pass, thanks. That sounds the same as just ‘dying’, really.”

“Not necessarily,” Serana said. “My mother taught me a trick or two. I could partially soul trap you, just take a tiny fragment of your soul and fill this gem, offering it to the Ideal Masters,” she said.

“The who?”

“Oh, right. The Ideal Masters are the rulers of the Soul Cairn. It’s like their own little sliver of oblivion that they reside over. They’re the ones that the necromancers make deals with in exchange for power,” Serana explained.

“You want to trick people who’re strong enough to rule over a place like that?” Arven asked.

Serana shrugged in response. “I don’t plan on being in there for long. We could run in, take back your soul, grab my mother and get out before they even notice,” she said.

Arven let out a deep, long sigh. “Will this make me any weaker?”

“It will, most likely,” Serana said. “You’ll be missing a part of your soul. And you, of all people know how much strength you can gather from souls.”

“Good thing you’re feeling protective today. I’m not sure how much use I’ll be after you do this,” Arven said.

Serana ignored his comment as she stepped up, holding the gem close to her chest. “I need you to think about this. I’m willing to do it, and I’m confident that I can, but it carries some risk. I can’t say how much weaker you’ll be until we regain your soul.”

“I don’t really see any other way. And I’m not content to stay here while you go in there alone,” Arven said. Serana had a soft, sweet smile come to her lips from his words before she held out her hand, placing it on Arven’s chest.

“Are you ready?” She asked. Arven nodded in response. “I know this would be difficult. I hope you trust me to do this, you know I’d never do anything that could hurt you,” Serana said as she looked into his eyes.

“I do trust you Serana,” Arven said as the thought of another word came to his mind. He doubted it, but it felt… right. Surprisingly right. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d say, but as he toyed with the idea of it, he found it to be true.

“Completely,” he stated.

Serana’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before she moved in closer and wrapped her arms around Arven’s chest. She held him tight, her eyes closed as she prepared the magics required in one hand, the other hand clutching the gem.

Arven wrapped his arms around her in return, giving her a soft squeeze. “I’m ready,” he said.

Suddenly, the feeling of his soul being torn returned to him, a split second of discomfort and disorientation before he returned to his senses. Serana took half a step back, supporting him as Arven staggered. He found his feet quickly, taking a few deep breaths as Serana looked down to the gem she held that was now glowing with an incredibly bright light.

“That… didn’t feel all too great,” Arven said. He held out an arm clenching his hand into a fist a few times over. He still felt fine, strong, but noticeably weaker than he did before. Still far stronger than any regular man, but he felt as if he’d spent the entire day exerting himself.

Serana didn’t respond. She was almost awe-struck by the object she held in her hand.

“You alright there?” Arven asked as he noticed her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like it,” Serana said. “Your soul, that is. The second I touched it I was almost overwhelmed. Normally a gem of this size would barely be filled by a person, yet I barely chipped at your soul and that was enough to fill it.”

“I’m uh, not exactly sure how to respond to that,” Arven said. “Although it does make sense, if you think about it.”

Serana raised her head, a quizzical look on her features before realisation dawned on her. “Right, of course. It isn’t just one soul in there, is it? Well, it is, but you know.”

Arven just grunted in response, avoiding the topic. “Time to see if that worked, I suppose,” he said. Stepping around Serana, he cautiously returned to the place on the first step where he had felt his soul being torn from him. He closed his eyes and waited, yet… nothing came. No sudden pain or sensation overwhelmed him.

“I think that worked,” he said.

Serana stepped alongside him, looking up with a smile. “I told you it would, didn’t I?” She said with a cocky grin. “Ready to go, then?”

Arven nodded, and after taking a deep breath, he descended down into the Soul Cairn.

Notes:

Hello again! I'm back with another chapter, and yes I'm still alive! Apologies for the recent delays between chapters, life has been hectic recently. I hope everyone has been staying safe and well with everything that's going on in the world at the moment, and I hope that reading this can bring you a small amount of reprieve from your days. I've got a bit more time to write now, so fingers crossed I can get the next chapter out within the next month.

 

As always thanks for reading, following, favouriting and commenting! Even if I don't manage to get back to you, I read every single comment and they mean a whole lot to me. :)

Chapter 14: The Soul Cairn

Summary:

What's that? I'm back with another chapter in a reasonable timeframe? With *two* updates in a single month?

I'm just as surprised as you all are! A bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I figure that a slight reduction in length is far better than waiting months for the next one to come out. Again, as always, thank you to everyone who reads, likes, follows and comments. Every single time I get a notification that someone has followed or left a comment I get a little surge of happiness, so it's all appreciated.

Hope you're all having a good week! See you again soon, hopefully!

Sometime ago.

Arven was breathing raggedly, hands on his knees as he hunched over, struggling to catch his breath. He raised a single hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but even as he managed to regain his breath he felt that his heart rate wasn’t lowering.

“Again, Dragonborn,” Arngeir said standing off to his side. “You must focus.”

I am focusing, you asshole, Arven thought to himself as he stood outside High Hrothgar. He had spent days out here in the cold, doing nothing but shouting over and over again. Knowing that he would have to fight Alduin, The Greybeards summoned him once more to train the Dragonborn. They had said that they worried, for his Thu’um wasn’t strong enough. Arven disagreed. He thought that his Thu’um was fine, and spending days on end doing nothing but shouting was taking a serious toll on his sanity.

In front of Arven, the Greybeards summoned an ethereal target for Arven to strike down. Standing tall, Arven inhaled, holding the breath deep within his chest before he shouted.

“Fus Roh Dah!”

A wave of energy and destruction boomed from Arven, striking the target that stood in front of him before the shout echoed across the mountain. Even in Whiterun people could faintly hear Arven’s voice on the wind. The spirit that was summoned with the strength of four Greybeards staggered, stepping backwards as it wavered. Yet, it didn’t fall. Arven’s hands went to his knees once more, taking in deep breaths as he shut his eyes tight. Each shout was getting weaker, not stronger. He hated using this power and it showed.

“Again!” Arngeir called as another spirit was summoned. The Greybeards themselves were looking just as exhausted as Arven from the repeated summonings, yet they persevered.

“Why?” Arven asked. “Why continue? It’s obvious I’m not getting any better at this,” he said.

“You are not strong enough yet, Dragonborn,” Arngeir replied. “Your Thu’um lacks focus!”

“How does that make any sense?” Arven said as he stood up, resting his hands on his head as he tried to calm himself. “You said yourself that my Thu’um was the strongest you’ve seen. All four of you together can’t produce a shout as strong as mine.”

“We cannot,” Arngeir agreed. “But Alduin can. We are not the ones you must fight; the World-Eater is your opponent. And his Thu’um will be overpowering, developed over millennia.”

Arven turned away, taking a few steps as he continued to catch his breath. He hated this training. With every soul he was forced to take he felt his Thu’um get stronger whenever he used it. But he hated using it. Whenever he did he felt that side of him flare up, as if it was trying to overtake his body, and every time he had to push it down.

“Your Thu’um is still one of a mortal. It mimics that of a human who has learned to master it, not the one of a true Dovah,” Arngeir continued. “Against common enemies, against weaker Dovah, you can prevail. But against the World-Ender himself, you must be able to match the ferocity of his voice, lest he shout you apart.”

At this point, I might even prefer that over continuing this, Arven thought.

“Do you know if that’s even possible?” Arven asked. “I’m mortal, just like you. Maybe I can’t produce a shout as strong as his.”

Arngeir shook his head in response, taking a few steps closer to Arven. “You are the only one who can. You may have the body of a mortal, but you have the soul of a Dovah. You just refuse to use it.”

“Because I’m not a dragon,” Arven retorted. “I’m nothing like them.”

“You are closer to them than you think. Closer than you are willing to admit. I do not know why, what you have is a gift, Dragonborn,” Arngeir responded.

Arven stared the man down. He was feeling on-edge. Hours upon hours of shouting had his blood boiling. He felt the power from every soul he’d absorbed so far boiling in his chest. He felt them fighting, as if they wanted to break free of the cage he had placed them in, but he held them back. He pushed them down, denying that part of himself before he turned on his heel and walked back to the main building.

“We’re done. I’ll kill Alduin as I am,” Arven stated.

Or die trying, he thought to himself.

---

Unsurprisingly, the Soul Cairn was not a welcoming place. Arven didn’t feel cold, he didn’t feel any noticeable change in temperature, yet there was an inescapable chill that lingered with him. His surroundings were bleak, dim and drained of all life and colour with the exception of a purple hue that seemed to come from a void in the sky.

“I’d heard stories about the Soul Cairn, but I never thought I’d see it myself,” Serana said as she walked alongside Arven.

“So, does this place creep you out as much as it does for me?” Arven asked.

Serana nodded, walking alongside him. “You’d think a vampire would be right at home in this place,” she replied. “You’d be wrong.”

As they walked Arven couldn’t help but notice the countless undead on the vast plains. They were mostly idle, standing by or walking around aimlessly, yet that didn’t make Arven any more relaxed. Alongside them were the ‘currency’ of the Soul Cairn, souls. Some of them only appeared as wisps of smoke or energy, dancing through the air while others appeared as full-sized ethereal humans.

Arven tried his best not to look at the souls. He prayed that they weren’t sentient, that they weren’t aware of their cruel punishment, yet he had a horrid feeling that they were.

“Look at this place,” Serana said. “I can’t imagine coming here. Mother must’ve been terrified.”

“A Vampire Lord, terrified? That’s hard to imagine,” Arven said.

“We’re not immune to fear, you know,” Serana retorted.

“It’s just hard imagining something that would threaten you,” Arven replied.

“There’s a few things,” Serana said. In all honesty there was only three things she could think of that would threaten her father. Another Vampire Lord, a dragon, or Arven. “Let’s just find my mother and get out of here, quickly.”

“Sounds good to me,” Arven said. “Actually, quick question. I know you mentioned it before, but what was your mother’s name again?”

Serana smiled. “Valerica. Why, wanting to make a good first impression?”

“Not quite. I’d just rather not piss off a Vampire Lord,” Arven replied. Serana didn’t offer a response.

As they walked they kept to a stone path that shot out a long distance in front of them. There were buildings scattered around surprisingly, with souls and undead mainly focused around them, so by sticking to the path the pair avoided any confrontations. Occasionally one of the undead would look to them as they passed, but none of them moved towards Arven or Serana.

“I just realised, we’re working on the assumption your mother still has the scroll with her,” Arven said as they continued walking forward.

“There’s no way she would have left it in Tamriel. The whole point of coming here was to get both it, and herself as far away from father as possible, and she’d want to look after it,” Serana said.

“I guess this is pretty good as far as hiding places go,” Arven muttered.

Serana scoffed in response. “It looks like this path eventually meets up with a large castle, or building of some sort,” Serana said as she pointed off into the distance. “I can’t imagine mother wandering around aimlessly. It seems like as good of a place as any to start looking.”

“If it keeps us on this path, I’m all for it,” Arven said as he kept his eyes on the many creatures they passed. Many of the undead were armed, skeletons with jagged swords and bows always carried at the ready. He wondered why a place like this would even need guardians like that, if that’s what they even were.

He couldn’t tell if it was just in his imagination or not, but as time went on he felt like more of the undead were looking directly at him, rather than just ignoring him.

“This place is really starting to give me the creeps,” he said.

“You and me both,” Serana replied.

“Are there any animal souls stored here? I can’t see any. Only humans, elves,” Arven observed.

“I don’t think so. One of the theories about the Soul Cairn is that only black souls are stored here,” Serana explained.

“I can’t tell if that’s a relief or not. At the very least, this place has turned me off ever trying my hand at enchanting,” Arven replied. “It’s like a twisted sort of purgatory here. Not suffering, but just existing, cold and alone.”

“You can’t do anything to help them Arven. Don’t try, you’ll only get hurt yourself,” Serana said as she noticed Arven’s eyes lingering on the souls they past.

“Well, I could kill the Ideal Masters,” he joked.

“…You’re certainly confident Arven, I’ll give you that,” Serana said.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as they walked. When they eventually approached their destination, Arven realised that he had no idea how long they had spent walking there. It could’ve been minutes; it could’ve been days. He turned around and saw the place where they entered, a beacon of purple light far, far off in the distance.

“It looks like there’s some sort of barrier around this place,” Serana mentioned as they approached the building. “I don’t know if we’ll even be able to get through there.”

“If there’s a barrier then there’s something worth protecting inside. Hopefully, your mother put that up, and she can just let us in,” Arven said.

“Confident and optimistic. Look at you go,” Serana said with half a smile on her lips.

As they walked up the hill towards their destination, Serana’s eyes suddenly went wide as she broke out into a full sprint. Arven went to follow, his body tensing up, but when he heard Serana call out he relaxed back into his normal stride.

“Mother!” Serana yelled as she ran as quickly as she could. Running up to the barrier she reached out with both hands, placing them on the opaque force-field that kept them from advancing any further. On the other side of the barrier a woman turned to face Serana with an expression of pure shock.

“Maker… it can’t be,” the woman said in a hushed tone that barely reached Arven. “Serana?”

The woman who now walked towards Serana, Valerica, had a striking resemblance to her. Long wine-red hair flowed down her shoulders, full, lush lips were painted across her face and striking yellow eyes stuck out in the darkness. Her face was sharp and, just like her daughter, absolutely stunning.

Arven would’ve been at a loss of words from her beauty, if her presence alone didn’t put him in a state of near anxiety. She had the same presence that Harkon did, even though the barrier. He felt his skin crawl in a horrible way along with the urge to draw his sword and run. It took a few deep breaths before he continued walking forward, standing a few metres behind Serana.

“Is it really you, mother?” Serana asked, her words quick and erratic. “How do we get inside? We need to talk.”

Valerica ignored the questions, her arms folded across her chest as she almost looked angry.

“Serana, what are you doing here? Where is your father?” She asked. Arven cringed slightly at the mention of Harkon.

“He doesn’t know we’re here. He has no idea where I am, actually,” Serana explained.

While Serana’s mixture of excitement and apprehension was palpable in the air, her mother regarded her with a frown before turning off to the side.

“Harkon has found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn’t he?” She asked. So far, the woman hadn’t even noticed Arven yet, something which he was grateful for.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Serana retorted. “We’re both here to complete the prophecy our way, not his. That’s why we came to find you.”

Valerica’s eyes only now locked onto Arven, widening as realisation dawned over her. “Wait a moment… you brought a stranger here? I thought that was a thrall! Have you lost your mind?”

This isn’t the wholesome family reunion I’d hoped for, Arven thought to himself.

“No, you don’t-“ Serana said before she was cut off.

“You. Come forward. I would speak with you,” Valerica said as she stared directly at Arven, her gaze enough to almost freeze him on the spot.

“I’d rather not,” Arven replied. “You two look like you have some things left to discuss.”

“We do. Such as why a vampire hunter has come into the company of my daughter,” Valerica responded. “And I assume you’re not daft enough to not realise what she is. It pains me to think that you’d travel with her under the guise of her protector, in an effort to hunt me down.”

Arven felt a flash of anger surge through him. The suggestion that he’d stoop to the level of using Serana, and the arrogance of the woman to assume that he’d come to this forsaken place solely in the pursuit of one single vampire? With his arms folded across his chest he clenched a fist, exhaling deeply.

Serana went to speak for him but Arven raised a hand, stepping closer to face Valerica. He took off his helmet, holding it under an arm so she could see his face.

“There is no single person, vampire or not that I’d want to kill enough to compel me to chase them to this desolate corner of the world. The only reason I stepped foot into this place is to protect Serana. I know that’s a foreign concept for you, but it’s the truth. I have no interest in you personally whatsoever, and I’d be more than happy to leave you locked behind this barrier for the next few millennia, if your daughter didn’t need your help,” Arven said.

Serana’s mouth opened slightly, dumbstruck at the words Arven had said. There was a venom coming from his lips. He tried to suppress it but he mostly failed, and it reminded Serana of his almost unending hatred for her kind. She just hadn’t seen it like this in so long, given how close they had gotten. She had assumed that perhaps he was growing accustomed to the idea of vampires being possibly good, but perhaps he was only getting accustomed to her?

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Valerica’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Arven. “For someone who’s very trade is murdering vampires, you’re a damn fool to be talking to someone of my status like that,” she responded. “If you even truly understand who it is you’re talking to.”

Why am I antagonising a Vampire Lord? Arven thought to himself as he went to speak once more. He had the answer in his mind. He was surprisingly angry at Valerica for the way in which she had treated Serana. She was a woman who subjected her daughter to horrific things all for the pursuit of power, and that made Arven’s blood boil.

“I’m painfully aware of who I’m talking to, don’t you worry,” Arven said. He had more to say, but in the corner of his eye he saw Serana’s expression. He let out a sigh.

This isn’t about you, or your hatred. This is about Serana. Just shut your mouth and do what you have to, he thought.

“Is that so?” Valerica responded. “I still fail to understand why you’re even here. Considering who you are, the weapon you carry, I find it hard to believe that your intentions are noble,” she said.

“Do you even know the meaning of the word noble?” Arven said before he could shut his mouth. A second after he spoke, he cursed himself for not being able to hold his tongue.

Valerica glared at him. Then, surprisingly, she let out a bark of a laugh. “Hah! I can’t remember the last time I spoke to a mortal who wasn’t afraid to speak their mind,” she said. “This is oddly refreshing.”

Arven sighed. He never understood vampires, and Valerica was no exception, it seemed.

“Regardless of your bravery, or sheer stupidity, whichever it is, Serana has sacrificed everything to prevent Harkon from fulfilling the prophecy. I would’ve expected her to explain that to you,” Valerica continued.

“I’m fully aware. Sometime between freeing her from her tomb, to meeting your husband, and to being dragged to this corner of hell I think I’ve gotten the whole picture,” Arven responded. “That’s why we’re here, to get your Scroll and figure out how to prevent all this from happening.”

Valerica cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d have the audacity to lock my own daughter away purely for the protection of a Scroll?” She asked.

“Obviously,” Arven said. “If you can’t tell, I don’t exactly think highly of you.”

Valerica’s eyes narrowed once more. “The Scrolls are merely a means to an end. The key to the Tyranny of the Sun is Serana herself.”

Arven closed his eyes, exhaling deeply before he turned his head to look at Serana. At the same time, Serana stepped up closer to be at Arven’s side.

“What do you mean, mother?” She asked.

Valerica turned back to her daughter, turning on her heel to start pacing back and forth along the barrier.

“When I fled Castle Volkihar with you, I fled with two Scrolls, as I’m sure you remember. Your scroll Serana, speaks of Auriel and his arcane weapon, Auriel’s bow. The second scroll, my scroll, declares that the blood of Coldharbour’s Daughter will blind the eye of the dragon,” Valerica explained.

“I’m assuming that isn’t the literal meaning,” Arven said. “Why is Serana the key, though?”

“Like myself, Serana was a human once,” Valerica said. “We were devout followers of lord Molag Bal. Tradition dictates that-“

“Don’t,” Arven suddenly said.

Valerica paused, looking at him before speaking again. ”You said you wanted to know why-“

“I wanted to know why Serana is the key to the prophecy. I do not want to hear about the barbaric torture you forced your daughter through,” Arven said.

“I didn’t force her through anything. She participated willingly, as did we all,” Valerica responded. She spoke in a stronger tone, her voice resembling that of Harkon’s. The voice and presence which made Arven tremble. Yet now, he didn’t feel the same fear he did back in the castle. He was far too angry to cower away.

“I’m not here to listen to your bullshit lies. I’m here to get the scroll and stop your bastard of a husband. That’s it. And to do those two things, there is no requirement for me to sit here and listen to all the ways you mistreated and abandoned your daughter,” Arven replied. As he spoke, he felt his blood getting hot. The ground around him shook just a little bit, as his voice rose to match the intensity of Valerica’s, taking on a nature closer to a Dragon than a human.

He pushed his blood back as soon as he spoke, exhaling deeply. Valerica didn’t respond. She just studied him, her eyes narrow as she tried to figure out exactly who, or what he was. As she did Serana stepped between them placing a hand on Arven’s chest to gently push him back as she looked up to him, her eyes pleading with him.

“Arven, it’s okay,” she whispered to him before turning back to Valerica. “What does our blood have to do with this, mother?”

“As Daughters of Coldharbour, our blood carries special properties. Properties that enable your father’s prophecy to be fulfilled,” Valerica said to Serana, although her eyes remained fixed on Arven.

“It’s why I wanted to protect you, Serana. If Harkon got hold of Auriel’s bow, and your blood, the Tyranny of the Sun would be complete. Even if you died in the process, he’d see that as a worthy sacrifice, for the good of all vampires,” Valerica continued.

Arven felt his anger surging. The thought of Harkon disposing of Serana to further his goals made him furious.

“That is why I did what I did, Serana. I needed to protect you so Harkon doesn’t try and kill you,” Valerica stated.

“That won’t happen,” Arven said, mostly to himself under his breath.

“And how exactly do you plan on stopping him? You’ll kill him, perhaps?” Valerica asked with a cocked brow, as if she found the statement amusing.

Arven sighed. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against Harkon, judging from what he saw. When he thought about it though, he realised that he’d gladly try in order to protect Serana.

“I’d try, at least. Better than locking Serana away for a few more centuries,” he responded.

Valerica scoffed. “You care nothing for Serana, or our plight.”

“I care for her more than you realise. At least enough to not want to sentence her back to a prison,” Arven snapped.

“And you called me a liar. You’re here because of who you are, vampire hunter. You’re here because we’re evil creatures, abominations, things to be destroyed,” Valerica said.

“Yet I’ve put more effort into protecting your daughter than you ever have,” Arven replied curtly. During this exchange Serana was silent, staring back at Arven as he spoke on her behalf.

“You reunite with your daughter after hundreds of years, and you spend your time attacking me instead. You haven’t even asked for her input on a single thing,” he continued.

 Valerica opened her mouth, yet she paused. Turning to face her daughter, the woman spoke, poison dripping from her voice as she discussed the man before her.

“I don’t know why you brought this stranger along Serana, yet it’s obvious you should be rid of him. He knows nothing of what we are, of our struggle,” Valerica said.

Serana seemed unsure for a moment, as if her words were failing her. Yet she spoke, and when she did, she did so with conviction, her jaw set.

“This ‘stranger’ has done more for me in the brief time that I’ve known him than you have in centuries, Mother,” Serana said as she stood by Arven’s side. Valerica’s eyes went wide with anger in response.

“How dare you! I gave up everything I cared about in order to protect you from that fanatic you call a father!” Valerica responded.

“Yes, he’s a fanatic!” Serana said. “But he’s still my father. Why can’t you understand how that makes me feel?”

“Oh Serana,” Valerica responded, her tone both caring yet condescending. “If only you’d open your eyes. The second your father discovers your role in the prophecy, your safety is no longer a concern. Your blood is all he’d care about.”

“So what, to protect me you decide to shut me away from everything I cared about?” Serana retorted with anger rising in her voice. “You never asked me if hiding in that tomb was the best course of action, you just expected me to follow you blindly. It’s been centuries! Nothing that I loved, nothing that I knew of my world is around anymore. I woke up in a dark tomb with a damn sword to my neck! Not that you’d even care, since you’re too obsessed with your own path, just like father. Your motivations might have been different, but in the end, you treated me the exact same way he does, like nothing more than a pawn.”

Serana’s voice was growing faster, her words becoming less coherent as she almost rambled. As if hundreds upon hundreds of years of anger was coming to the surface. She’d wanted a nice reunion with the only family she had, yet she didn’t get that. She was berated instead.

“You’re my mother, yet you haven’t shown a fraction of the care that I’ve received from a damn vampire hunter! This man has shown me what it’s like to have someone that actually cares about me. He doesn’t see me as a tool to be used, a pawn in some sick, twisted game. Why the fuck did I have to meet someone who wanted to kill me before I could even understand what it’s like for someone to actually give a shit?” Serana practically yelled, taking deep breaths as she vented.

“All I want is for us to be a family again,” she continued as her voice grew weaker. “But it’s obvious we can never have that. Maybe we don’t even deserve it. But we have to stop him before he goes too far, not cower away in tombs. And to do that, we need your Elder Scroll.”

Valerica didn’t speak for a moment, studying Serana as a heavy silence hung between the two of them. By the time she did speak, she let out a long, deep sigh, her posture relaxing.

“I’m sorry, Serana. I didn’t know,” Valerica said. Serana’s eyes widened, as if shocked that her mother was actually apologizing. “I didn’t see, I suppose… my anger for your father got the better of me. It estranged us for far too long. I’ll give you the Scroll, if that’s what you want.”

“You, though,” Valerica said as she turned to Arven. “Your intentions aren’t clear to me.”

“I already explained them” Arven replied curtly.

“Yes. But the question is if I believe you,” Valerica responded. “If you want the Elder Scroll, you’ll need to lower this barrier that has me trapped in here.”

“How would we do that?” Serana asked.

“There are three beings. Three Keepers, employed by the Ideal Masters that rest at the towering spires you can see off in the distance. Destroy them and the barrier should fall,” Valerica explained.

“It’s never easy, is it,” Arven mumbled to himself. He then turned, starting to walk off at a slow pace while waiting for Serana to join him.

“We’ll be back soon, mother. We’ll get you out of here,” Serana said as she placed a hand on the barrier, pausing for a moment before turning to catch up to Arven.

“Oh, one more word of warning,” Valerica called out as they walked off. “An undead dragon known as Durnehviir is roaming the Soul Cairn. He oversees the Keepers and might intervene.”

Arven flinched at her words, shaking his head slightly as he continued to walk. “Of course. I go to the ends of the world and I still can’t escape them,” he muttered.

Serana looked at him, noticing his spiking heart rate but she didn’t speak. She was at a loss for words, still processing what just happened. It wasn’t until they were well out of sight of Valerica’s prison that the silence between them spoke.

“Sorry about that Serana,” Arven said.

“For what?” Serana asked as she looked to him.

“For losing my temper. I didn’t mean to intervene, I wanted you to just talk it out with your mother. I, uh… thought I could control myself,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Serana said with a soft smile. “She sort of dragged you into that conversation, willingly or not.”

“That doesn’t forgive what I said though.”

“You didn’t mean it?” Serana asked.

“Oh no, I meant every word of what I said,” Arven said with a slight snort of a laugh. “That doesn’t make it appropriate though. I probably should have just stayed behind while you talked to her. Would’ve made more sense.”

“You know, for a moment I forgot about how much you hate us,” Serana said.

“Not ‘us’,” Arven replied. Serana looked to him, confused.

“Not you,” Arven clarified. “Never you.”

Serana looked forward, holding one of her arms as she felt a blush coming to her cold cheeks. She felt a warmth coming from her chest, a sensation she wasn’t used to, but one that she found very enjoyable.

“But I know what you mean. I was trying to think of her as your mother, but some of the things she said just… I don’t know. It made me much angrier than I expected,” Arven continued.

“Like what?” Serana asked.

Arven looked to her, stuttering for a brief moment. “Well. She reminded me of your father. Talked about you as if you were a tool or an asset. Not a daughter.”

“That’s what made you so angry?” Serana asked.

“Of course it did,” Arven said. “How are you feeling though? After talking to her?”

Serana let out a sigh. “Relieved… I think. That was surprisingly draining. All those things I said had been building for a while. You have no idea how long I wanted to say that to her.”

“Feel better?” Arven asked.

“Yes and no,” Serana said. “I just keep thinking about everything that’s happened. Maybe if I was smarter or caught on earlier, I could’ve prevented all of this from happening.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself Serana. This is on your parents, not you,” Arven said.

“I know that in my head, but I just can’t help second guessing myself. I just feel bad about… the way things are,” Serana said. “Sorry. I know you’re trying to help. Thank you,” she said as she turned to smile at Arven.

“This entire thing is a total mess, but… at least one good thing came out of it all,” Serana continued.

Arven looked away, but only after being trapped by her smile for a few seconds. He reached for the helmet dangling from a belt around his waist to place it back on, but Serana reached out to grab hold of his arm, stopping him. Then she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder, interlacing her fingers with his own and letting out a soft sigh as they kept walking forward side by side.

Arven looked down at her, questioning her with his gaze, but she just gave his hand a soft squeeze.

“Hey Arven, can you tell me about your parents?” Serana asked. “Only if you don’t mind, I don’t want to bring up bad memories.

“I… Yeah, I can. Why?” Arven asked.

“I want to know what it’s like, having a regular family,” Serana responded.

“I wouldn’t exactly call them normal,” Arven said.

“But they loved you?” Serana said.

Arven paused for a moment, then he nodded. “Yeah, they did. My mother was very overprotective. She was really against me helping them out when they were working as priests. She said she didn’t want me to see the injuries some people got. Wanted me to stay innocent, Dad used to say,” Arven started to explain.

“She’d always kick up a fuss whenever I did something remotely dangerous, but she was always eager to teach me anything,” Arven continued. “When my Dad got frustrated with how slowly I learned things, she’d stay with me and keep helping me until I finally got it. It took months before I could even heal a small graze, I still don’t know where she got the patience from,” Arven said. As he spoke Serana had a gentle smile across her lips, holding herself close to him as they walked through the desolate landscape.

“Then every night after father got frustrated, he’d go and cook us dinner. Still the best food I’ve ever tasted,” Arven said.

“Your mother didn’t cook?” Serana asked.

“Oh, Gods no,” Arven replied. “Mother couldn’t cook at all. Anything she touched ended up inedible. Burnt, usually,” he said with a short laugh. “They were both very peaceful people though. When I started teaching myself to fight, they hated it. I’d run off with some other kids as a young teenager and we’d spar, I’d come home with bruises and cuts and they’d yell at me for what felt like hours. After that, mother would teach me to heal my own wounds and father would start cooking.”

“They sound like wonderful people,” Serana commented.

“They were,” Arven said. “I… wish you could have met them.”

Serana’s eyebrows perked up. “You want to introduce me to your parents? That’s a serious step, Arven,” she teased.

Arven felt his cheeks grow flushed, frustrated that he didn’t have his helmet on to hide his embarrassment.

“No,” he said. “That isn’t what I meant. I just would have liked for you to meet them. Anytime I brought friends home they’d take care of them like they were family. You deserve to know what that’s like,” he said.

Serana didn’t respond, only squeezing his arm tighter. She felt strange. Her chest was growing heavy, all of her thoughts becoming clouded as the man she was clinging to made her feel a way that she’d never experienced before. A few weeks ago, and he was threatening to kill her, yet now he was the kindest man she knew. A voice in her head told her that she didn’t deserve any of it, but even so. She never wanted this feeling to go away.

“And what happens when they find out what I am?” Serana asked in a weak voice. It was a silly hypothetical question, but it represented a real doubt in her mind.

“Well, father might’ve been upset if you didn’t enjoy his food. And things might’ve gotten a bit awkward if mother accidentally tried to heal you or something, but… after they met you and talked to you? Wouldn’t have been an issue,” Arven responded.

“Really?” Serana said.

“My parents were far more accepting people than I am. I guess that didn’t really rub off on me,” he said.

“It did,” Serana said. “It sounds like a lot of their personalities did. They did a great job raising you, Arven.”

“Oh, they’d really like you. Just say stuff like that and they’d let you stay forever,” Arven laughed.

Arven kept talking, bringing up old memories, talking about times where he’d angered his parents or where something had happened that always made him laugh to think about. Serana was listening, soaking it all up, but in the back of her mind there was a single thought she couldn’t shake.

She just couldn’t believe that out of all the places in the universe for her to accept that she was falling in love, it’d be in some forsaken slither of Oblivion. Funnily enough, she wasn’t bothered by it. She was simply happy to be with him.

 

 

Notes:

What's that? I'm back with another chapter in a reasonable timeframe? With *two* updates in a single month?

I'm just as surprised as you all are! A bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I figure that a slight reduction in length is far better than waiting months for the next one to come out. Again, as always, thank you to everyone who reads, likes, follows and comments. Every single time I get a notification that someone has followed or left a comment I get a little surge of happiness, so it's all appreciated.

Hope you're all having a good week! See you again soon, hopefully!

Chapter 15: Unlocking the Prison

Arven ducked beneath the legs of the Keeper, a towering undead monstrosity that loomed over him at almost double his height. The monster was carrying a large bow, larger than Arven himself and he swung it down in an attempt to swat at the man as he darted around.

Dashing in and out of range, Arven made repeated swipes with his blade at the creature’s legs while Serana blasted it with shards of ice. It didn’t take long, and the monster fell to one knee, an inhuman screech coming from the void where a mouth would usually be. Bringing his blade down with a shout Arven severed one of the monster’s legs at the knee, causing it to stumble onto the ground. Then, walking over to its head, he drove Dawnbreaker into the skull of the beast before it disappeared into ash and mist.

After the monster had been slain Arven sheathed his sword, walking back over to Serana as he readied to tend to a wound he had received. As soon as he had moved in sight of the Keeper, the beast had drawn and fired an arrow at Arven.

Arven had raised his shield to block it, but he didn’t realise the sheer power that a bow of that size could deliver. The arrow had punched right through the shield, burying itself into his forearm. While he approached Serana, looking at the arrow sticking out of his shield, Serana ran over to him.

“Arven! Are you okay?” She asked as she looked down, hands reaching out as if she wanted to help, but she hesitated as she didn’t know what to do.

“I’m fine,” Arven said. “I’ve had much worse than this.” He grabbed a dagger from his belt, placing it flat against the outer side of his shield before swiping it against the arrow to cut off the shaft. That allowed him to then remove his shield, giving him access to his forearm again where the head of the arrow had buried in a good inch or so.

Grasping the small protrusion of the arrow he yanked it out, a sharp grunt of pain coming from him as he inspected the arrowhead.

“I don’t get it,” Arven said. “This is dragonbone.”

“What do you mean?” Serana asked, although her eyes were more focused on his wound than the arrow.

“The arrowhead, and the armour that thing was wearing. It was all made from dragonbone,” Arven continued.

“You can forge their bones? I didn’t even know,” Serana said.

Arven nodded. “You can. It’s just about the strongest material out there. A smith back in Whiterun made me a set of armour from the bones of some dragons I had killed, I didn’t think it was even possible until he did,” Arven said.

“Why don’t you- ah, nevermind,” Serana said. She was confused for a moment, if it was the strongest material available, why wouldn’t Arven wear it? But the reason hit her a second later.

Arven had a small smile come to his lips. “How did it get down here, though? It doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

Serana shrugged, folding her arms across her chest. “You should probably tend to your arm first, shouldn’t you?”

Arven nodded, tossing the arrow to the side as he took off the gauntlet covering the wound. The arrow had punched through the chainmail underneath, avoiding any solid metal. With this, the hole in his shield, and various other wounds he’d suffered, it was starting to look like he’d need a new set of armour soon.

Holding a hand above the wound, he paused. “Wait, do you need more?” Arven asked.

Serana raised a brow, looking up at him with curiosity. “More…?”

Arven raised his arm, showing her the blood freely flowing down the limb. It looked like the arrow had struck a vein. “Don’t make me say it,” Arven said.

Serana’s eyes widened with realization for a moment before she reached into a pouch at her waist, pulling out a vial that was half full with Arven’s blood. She didn’t hold it out, but Arven reached out to grab it, popping it open before he let the blood from his wound run down to fill it up. Once he had finished, he gave it back, running a finger over the wound to seal it up with magic before he placed his gauntlet back on.

Serana just watched him the entire time, silent. It didn’t take long for Arven to notice.

“Something wrong?” He asked her, re-doing the straps that kept his gauntlet in place.

“Hmm?” Serana replied, seeming obviously distracted. “Oh, no- it’s just… you did that so casually,” she said.

“…I can act grossed out, if you want,” Arven replied with half a grin.

Serana rolled her eyes, shoving him lightly on the shoulder before she picked up his shield for him. Arven nodded his thanks, strapping the piece of worn-down metal back to his forearm.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” Serana replied in a dry voice. “It’s just, you seemed so squeamish the first time you did it. It’s still a bit of a shock to see you do it so casually now.”

“Well I’m just helping you out, guess I’ve gotten used to it,” Arven said. He exhaled deeply, still catching his breath from the fight. “Alright, let’s get going to the next one.”

“It’d be nice if they were closer together,” Serana said as she eyed off the next ruined tower, far off in the distance.

“Do you think this place has a suggestions box?” Arven quipped as they started walking once more.

“Unfortunately, I doubt it,” Serana said.

The journey to the second tower passed quickly, as all time seemed to. It was a strange feeling, and Arven had no idea how long the two had even been in the Soul Cairn. It could still be the same day, it could be a month later. Either way he’d believe it. Time just didn’t seem to work the same way within this plane of Oblivion.

As they walked, Arven’s breath didn’t return back to normal. He still seemed to be trying to catch his breath, well after they finished fighting the last keeper. Arven himself didn’t notice, but Serana kept glancing at him occasionally. It was strange, and it worried her slightly yet she didn’t comment on it.

As they made it to the second Keeper Arven drew his sword, walking towards it as the creature stood up from a throne. This one was clad in dragonplate as well, with a mace and shield instead of a bow. While Arven stepped closer, readying himself to fight, Serana grasped hold of his shoulder.

“Let me start this one,” she said. “If that shield is as strong as you say it is, I might be a bit more effective here.”

Arven’s instincts wanted to argue, but Serana was right. Breaking through that shield would be an incredibly difficult task.

“Yeah, sure. Go for it,” he said as he stood back, still holding Dawnbreaker in his hand. The Keeper stood, talking slow steps towards Serana while she simply stood in place, arms at her side, palms facing up.

Holding one arm out Serana sent a blizzard of cold winds and ice shards at the beast. The Keeper reacted by holding up its shield, yet the shield was nowhere near large enough to cover its entire body. Within seconds the Keeper’s feet had been coated in ice, rooting it to the ground. It didn’t seem damaged, however.

As soon as it was immobilised Serana started to blast it with lightning. Each bolt was powerful enough to chip away at the armour, and she never seemed to slow down in her attacks. Second after second, powerful blasts that would’ve been enough to knock Arven clean off his feet struck the undead monstrosity as slowly, but surely, the shield was reduced to nothing.

The deafening sound that rung about Arven almost made him miss something particularly important. The undead that had left them alone for so long had started to react, and they were closing in.

“Uh, Serana,” he said, standing at her back to face the undead that were now walking towards them.

“Bit busy here,” she replied. “Can you handle it?”

Arven raised his shield, eyeing off a group of undead. Each one had some sort of armour, yet none of them carried a complete set. One had a helm, another with gauntlets and a shield, another with a chest plate. Each one carried some sort of weapon in their hand though.

Deciding not to let them get too close Arven dashed out, slicing at the nearest one with his sword to cut it cleanly in two. The armour they wore was old, rusted, and provided little to no protection. They were slow, only regular, ordinary undead that posed no threat to someone used to the reflexes of a vampire.

Within a matter of seconds Arven had cut most of them down, with six ‘corpses’ laying down by his feet.

“You done?” Serana yelled out above the sound of her magic. “Can you come finish this thing off?”

Arven turned on his heel, walking back to see the Keeper on its knees with one hand raised, protecting its face from Serana’s lightning. The armour it was wearing had been mostly obliterated, but it was still holding on. Any magic that blasted the shadowy skeleton underneath did damage, yet that damage was regenerated incredibly quickly.

“I don’t want to burn myself out killing him,” Serana called. “Just stab the bastard, would you?”

“Just stab him… please?” Arven commented, yet he regretted it instantly. Just as he said it a spark of lightning jolted out from Serana’s hands, not hitting the Keeper, but instead zapping him on his thigh, making him jump slightly.

If he wasn’t so impressed with her control of her magic, he would’ve been a bit embarrassed. He did as he was asked though, running around to approach the Keeper from the back who had to keep its attention forward to resist Serana’s magic. Stepping up behind it, Arven pierced its skull with Dawnbreaker, instantly killing it as the skeleton dissolved, leaving nothing but the mace behind.

Arven walked over to the mace, picking it up to feel the weight of it in his hand. It was undoubtedly a strong weapon, much heavier in his hand compared to Dawnbreaker, but that alone would make it much more useful against anything with a lot of protection to hammer through. He knew it’d be smart to hold onto it if he ever found himself going through Dwemer ruins again; a sword wasn’t the best tool for smashing constructs.

Yet, he dropped it. He didn’t want to have that on his side all day long. He would’ve been far too uncomfortable. A part of him was angry at himself, knowing that keeping it was the smart thing to do, but he just couldn’t get past that gut instinct.

“You all good?” Arven asked as he turned to Serana.

She nodded to him, arms folded across her chest. “You’re right, that stuff is hard to break through,” she commented.

“I’ve never actually seen it break before,” Arven said. “With that other one I had to go for the weak points, I don’t think I could even crack this stuff.”

“Yeah, I am pretty amazing,” Serana commented with a smirk. Arven looked to her, a brow raised under his helmet.

“Not really the word I’d use, but sure,” he said as he started walking off towards the third tower.

“Oh, and what word would you use?” Serana asked.

“There is no chance I’m answering that,” Arven said.

“I thought you’d say that, yet I’m still disappointed,” Serana replied. He caught up to him, nudging him in the shoulder with her own before they started towards the third tower. As they did, Arven couldn’t help but notice the undead. More and more of them were looking towards them now. Some even raised their weapons, letting out unnerving cries designed to either challenge or antagonize the pair.

“I don’t like this,” Arven said.

“Like what?” Serana asked, turning to look at him.

“The undead. They’re getting more… active,” he said.

“They don’t really seem to be much of an issue,” Serana said. “You took them down pretty easily, from what I heard at least.”

“Sure, a few of them are fine,” Arven said. “But hundreds? That might cause an issue.” As he talked Serana couldn’t help but notice his breathing. It was the same as before, if not slightly worse. He still struggled to calm down his breathing, lower his heart rate. It was as if he was running, yet they were just walking at a comfortable pace.

“Hey, are you alright?” Serana asked.

Arven looked to her, curious. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

Serana studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. As long as you’re okay,” she said.

“I could go for some food, I guess,” Arven said.

“I don’t think there’s much around here to help with that,” Serana replied.

“I should’ve brough snacks,” Arven remarked under his breath, causing Serana to smile ever so slightly.

The journey to the third tower was the same as the last two, yet Arven kept his sword in his hand the entire time. As they walked the undead continued to watch their every move. A couple even stepped forward, charging at them, yet both fell within a second as Serana blasted them into pieces.

As they approached the third tower they saw a throne right where the other two had been seated within the identical buildings, yet no Keeper was visible. The small open room was deserted, except for bones laying scattered around the floor along with a heavy mist clinging to the ground.

Arven raised sword and shield, looking around cautiously. “Alright, where is it?” He asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Serana replied as she stood with her arms folded, looking much more relaxed.

“You think he went home for the day?” Serana continued.

Arven just rolled his eyes before turning around, seeing more undead approaching them. “Great,” he said as he walked towards a group of them.

“These things just don’t know when to quit, do they?” Serana asked as she turned to another group, outstretching a hand as she started to pick them off one by one with blasts of lightning. As she did so Arven took care of the others, bashing some with his shield, slicing others in half with a single sweep of his blade.

As the two worked, neither noticed as the mists around them started to group up, joining together to form something far more solid. It wasn’t until the Keeper had rematerialized, standing behind Arven, towering well over him with its axe raised that Serana noticed.

“Arven! Look out!” She cried as she raised a hand to blast at the Keeper. Her strike hit the monster on the shoulder, yet it wasn’t enough to stop it. Arven turned at the last second, his eyes widening as he barely raised his shield in time to catch the strike. The blow came with enough force to break down a pillar of stone, a strike that would’ve been enough to seriously harm a dragon, let alone a human. Arven was thrown off his feet and sent flying across the room before slamming into a pillar that robbed his lungs of air as he let out a short cry.

Serana immediately vanished, a swarm of bats appearing instead as she reformed right in front of Arven with both hands raised. She didn’t like using that power around him, but his safety was far more important right now. Holding her hands out to the bones scattered on the floor she raised some of the undead they had slain, ordering them to charge the Keeper as it stalked towards them both.

The Keeper raised its axe, decimating the undead, yet some of them got close enough to hack away at the monster. They didn’t do any damage, but they were able to slow it down. As they did Serana summoned blizzards in the shape of spheres, sending them flying towards the Keeper. The tiny shards of ice cut into the gaps in its armour, shredding the skeleton hiding underneath as its limbs started to freeze in place. The creature regenerated any damage, yet it was enough to stop it where it stood, at least for the moment.

As Serana held the Keeper at bay Arven stood up, his left arm feeling limp as he dropped his shield to the side. The shield had been caved in, a huge gash running down where the axe had struck it. Thankfully, the axe didn’t penetrate far enough to hit Arven’s body, but the shield was totally useless now.

Arven cursed at himself mentally. He had been walking with a regular shield for so long purely out of comforts sake, he had practically been asking for something like this to happen. As he walked back up to Serana’s side, panting heavily, he pushed the thought away.

“Arven, stay back,” she said. “I can handle this. Just conserve your energy.”

Arven grimaced. He hated feeling useless, and the emotion was strong enough that he felt his blood start to rage inside of him. He suppressed that feeling once more though, as he always did, standing by with Dawnbreaker held in his hand as he watched.

Serana started to step closer towards the beast. She held out her arms, the floor beneath her turning to pure ice as it spread out. The ground around the Keeper was frozen and pillars of ice shot up on either side, enveloping the creature’s wrists to hold it in place. Then she walked right up to it, reaching out to place a hand on the center of its chest as magicka started to build around her.

The Keeper looked to her, a defiant screech coming from its head as it struggled to free itself, yet it couldn’t. The ice that held it in place was far too strong, and all it could do is watch as Serana sent an incredibly powerful blast of lightning through its body. The dragonplate shattered while a resounding boom echoed around them for miles, caused by a blast of lightning directly from Serana’s palm that pierced the Keeper and continued well through its body. The blast struck a wall behind it, turning it into nothing but rubble while the monster was left with a hole in its chest twice the size of Serana’s hand.

It looked down to her for a moment, then dissolved away into nothing, the axe falling to the ground with a loud clang. Serana herself exhaled deeply. Expelling that much energy at once left her slightly drained. It wasn’t debilitating, and the magicka would return quickly, but she couldn’t remember the last time she exerted herself that much – with the exception of fighting a dragon in daylight.

She turned, running back over to Arven to get a closer look at him.

“Are you okay?” She asked, looking at his arm which was hanging limply at his side.

“I’m fine,” Arven said. “Same as always.” He looked down to his arm, trying to move it, yet he didn’t get much of a response. “Think it might be broken.”

“A broken arm isn’t fine, you idiot,” Serana replied. She had her arms out, as if she was about to tend to Arven’s arm, but she couldn’t really do much of anything. She had always thought of restoration as a useless school of magic, but recently she’d been thinking more and more that it would’ve been worth investing at least some time in. Obviously not to benefit herself, but with the amount of damage Arven seemed to attract, she would’ve felt far better if she could’ve helped.

“I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve broken a bone,” Arven responded. With his good hand he placed it on his other arm, wincing as he started to let restorative magic flow through the limb. A dull golden glow came out while he looked down at the shield resting by his feet, a shield that was now entirely useless as it had been battered well beyond repair. It wasn’t a special shield; it was made from steel with no special enchantments. There wasn’t really anything that would differentiate it from any other shield, except that it was his.

Arven had found countless other shields over the past year made from other materials, many arguably much better than the one he used. Except this shield lying at his feet was his. It had protected him countless times, and he found himself feeling slightly upset knowing it wouldn’t do so any longer.

“Just because it’s happened a lot, doesn’t mean it’s okay for it to keep happening,” Serana said. “I was worried there for a second, you know?”

Arven turned to look at her, a solemn smile on his lips. “I know, but it can’t always be avoided,” he said. Arven turned towards the prison that was holding Serana’s mother, the prison that should now be open to them. “That should be the last thing we have to fight that’s worth any trouble. We can go get the scroll, get your mother and find a place to sleep it all off.”

He conveniently decided to ignore the threat of a dragon flying around.

“You’re being rather optimistic,” Serana said.

Arven turned to her, tilting his head. “Am I?”

“Well, there’s plenty of things that could still happen. We are in Oblivion, after all,” Serana noted.

“Couldn’t hurt me to be positive for once though, right?” Arven asked with a soft grin.

Serana rolled her eyes, but his words made her worry ever so slightly. Was he just trying to reassure her? Or himself? As she studied him the man was still panting, looking much worse off than he should. Yes, he got hurt badly, but his ability to recover was incredible. She couldn’t tell if it was just her, but he seemed to be struggling.

“Come on. Let’s get going, no point in standing around,” Arven said. He started walking back towards the prison and Serana followed. It wasn’t a comfortable journey though. The entire time, while no more undead attacked them, every single one they passed was staring at the pair. It was incredibly unnerving, having hundreds of them acutely aware of the two travelers.

Judging by the strength of them so far they weren’t a threat. But hundreds? Arven didn’t want to think about it.

“You know, I think I am going to take a day off when we get out of here,” Arven said as they walked.

“Really? That’s a shock, coming from you,” Serana replied.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me,” Arven replied. “Plus, I’m really tired.”

Serana smiled. “Well, I think it’s a good idea. Any idea what you’re going to do?” She asked.

Arven just shrugged, still holding his bad arm close to his body. “Nope. I was hoping you could give me some ideas, seeing how you’re so experienced with being lazy,” he replied.

Serana frowned at him. “What exactly are you implying, Arven?” She asked.

Arven looked at her, a cheeky smile on his lips. “That you spent hundreds of years sitting in a castle like royalty, with no responsibilities?”

Serana opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t. He was right, in a way. It was a gross generalization, but he was right.

“Ass,” she commented under her breath, with a small hint of a smile.

Arven smirked to himself as they kept walking. The landscape around them seemed to never change, not until there was suddenly a prison up on the horizon, the building where Serana’s mother was trapped.

“I,” Arven started before he paused. “I feel like we’ve been here for much longer than a day, but I haven’t felt the need to sleep yet. It feels wrong.”

“Time can be a strange thing in places like this,” Serana said. “It’s almost impossible to understand. I wouldn’t try and think about it too much.”

“Yeah. Still, it’s unnerving. I almost envy people who don’t know that a place like this exists,” Arven said. After speaking Arven let his arm drop to his side, letting go of it with his other hand. He flexed it around but it still hurt. It hadn’t fully healed, not even close. It was fine enough that he didn’t need to support it or have it in a sling, but it wouldn’t be good for much in a battle.

“So, ready to talk to your mother again?” Arven asked.

Serana exhaled deeply, shaking her head. “No, not exactly. That wasn’t how I wanted our conversation to go,” she said. “But I’m not… unhappy, with the way it turned out,” she clarified while looking to Arven.

“I still feel bad,” he said to her, remembering how easily he lost his temper.

“Don’t,” she said, trying to reassure him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When we got here, I was planning on asking her to come back with us. I don’t know if that would even be a good idea, now.”

“If you could convince her, I’d be surprised,” Arven said.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s hiding here for a reason, and that reason is still very much alive. Even if we’re trying to fight it,” Arven explained to her.

Serana murmured in response, her brow furrowed slightly as she thought to herself.

As they got closer and closer to the prison they could see Valerica standing just outside where the barrier had been in place, arms folded across her chest as she looked out to the surrounding area. It had likely been the first time in hundreds of years that she’d seen the rest of the Soul Cairn with her own eyes, not through the distorted lens of the trap that kept her in place.

Serana went into a slight jog as they got close enough, approaching her mother. There was still a rather awkward feeling in the air, but it seemed better than before.

“That was quicker than I had thought,” Valerica said. “You really killed all three of them?” The woman asked.

“We did. They were a pain, but they’re all taken care of now,” she responded.

“No issues with them?” Valerica continued.

“They were… difficult, but we managed,” Serana said.

“You seem fine. They gave me a bit of trouble once, so I wasn’t sure how easily you’d handle three of them,” Valerica said as Arven walked up alongside them, not saying anything himself.

“You on the other hand, look far worse off,” Valerica said with a smirk.

Wonderful, Arven thought. He had hoped it wouldn’t be so obvious.

“Not as strong as you thought you were, mortal?” Valerica continued, clearly goading him on.

“There’s something about this place,” Arven commented. “It… it takes longer for me to recover.”

“It shouldn’t,” Valerica said. “There’s nothing inherent about this place that inhibits your strength. Unless you’re merely not as strong as you think you are, Vampire Hunter.”

Arven scowled beneath his helmet, looking away.

“Actually, Arven. I think it’s because of me,” Serana said.

Arven and Valerica both turned to her, confused.

“Remember how you got in here in the first place?” She continued.

Ah, right, Arven thought.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he said with a sigh.

“What exactly are you talking about, daughter?” Valerica interjected.

“When Arven first tried to enter the Soul Cairn it was trying to eat away at him. So I used one of your old tricks and partially soul trapped him, hoping it’d work. It did, but it’s left him weaker,” she responded.

“Clever,” Valerica said. “In that case you should be fine once you leave this place. You remember how to unbind a soul from a gem, don’t you Serana?”

“Oh, will that work? I thought we’d have to find his soul here to return it to him,” Serana responded.

“That would certainly work as well, but do you really want to go hunting for a single soul in this place?” Valerica said with a raised brow. “Or would you rather just cast a simple spell and be done with it?”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” Serana said.

“Then let us get you what you need, and you can be off,” Valerica stated before she started to walk off towards her ‘home’, not waiting for the two to follow her.

Serana instead walked over to Arven, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Really though, are you okay? You don’t look too great right now.”

Arven grimaced. “My regeneration isn’t… it’s not working quite right. I’m not recovering my magicka and I still feel like I just ran for hours. I feel like I’m a regular human again. And my arm still aches,” he explained.

Serana just looked at him with a sympathetic smile, but Valerica stepped into their conversation.

“A regular human? So just what, exactly, are you then?” She asked.

Arven looked to her, before just sighing. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to explain all of this now.

“Nothing important,” he said.

“Oh? I find that hard to believe. Anything that would make someone capable of fighting my kind and entering a place like this without being entirely crippled is particularly important, I would think,” Valerica retorted.

Arven didn’t respond to her. Instead he just looked to Serana. “You tell her, if she wants to know that badly. I don’t,” he said before sighing. “I just can’t right now.”

Serana responded with a sweet smile before Arven walked off, heading into Valerica’s prison ahead of the two of them. She then turned to her mother, who was looking at her with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity.

“So?” Valerica asked. “Going to explain things some more for me?”

Serana pursed her lips, thinking. It was an easy thing to explain, really, but at the same time it wasn’t.

“Do you know much about dragons, mother?” She asked.

“Besides my jailor? No, I don’t. Nothing beyond what was written in myths and legends,” Valerica said.

“Well, have you ever heard of the Dragonborn?” Serana continued.

Valerica didn’t respond, just studying Serana.

“I suppose not, I hadn’t either,” Serana said. “Well, the dragon keeping you here isn’t the only one  that’s around now. While you were here, and while I was locked away dragons started coming back to Skyrim. I don’t know the specifics, but somehow they returned.”

Valerica narrowed her gaze, looking towards Serana. “Are you sure? That’s… a rather wild claim,” she said.

Serana nodded. “I didn’t quite believe it myself until I saw one and had to fight it.”

“You killed a dragon? Forgive me daughter, but I find that hard to believe. Not to diminish your abilities, but from everything I know and I’ve seen, fighting a dragon would be incredibly foolish,” Valerica said. “Even for us.”

Serana shook her head in response. “No, I didn’t. He did. It was daytime so I was useless, but he killed two of them, one right after the other.”

Valerica turned around, looking at the back of the man who was walking away from them.

“Impossible. He’s just a man,” she said.

“No,” Serana responded. “He’s ‘Dragonborn’. Somehow he has the strength of dragons and gets stronger every time he fights them. He single-handedly scared off half of father’s court when they were chasing him, and I’ve seen him recover from wounds that would kill any other man.”

Valerica paused, not speaking for a moment. When she did, her voice was low and quiet. “How does he get stronger?” She asked.

“What do you mean?” Serana asked.

“You said he gets stronger by fighting them. How, exactly?”

“He absorbs their power. Their souls, I’m fairly sure. After he kills them he-“ Serana said before she was cut off.

“How many?” Valerica asked.

“What?”

“How many has he killed? How many souls has he absorbed?” Valerica demanded to know with an urgency.

“I don’t know, but a lot. When I trapped his soul, it felt immense.”

Valerica turned on her heel, shouting with a look of pure anger and worry on her features. “Human! How many dragons have you killed?”

However Arven wasn’t to be seen, he had passed through a passageway and was now inside the building in the courtyard, out of view. Valerica instantly turned into a cloud of mist, surging towards the man as Serana ran after to keep up.

“Mother, wait!” Serana called, cursing under her breath.

Valerica rematerialized right behind Arven, causing the man to curse under his breath and spin on his heel – sword in hand.

“How many dragons have you killed?” Valerica asked once more.

“What?” Arven asked.

“How many!” Valerica demanded, almost yelling.

Arven paused, staring at her for a moment before responding – lowering his sword as he did so. “I don’t know, I’ve lost count. Dozens.”

“And you took their souls every time?” Valerica asked. Arven nodded.

“You need to go. Now,” Valerica responded.

“That’s… what we’re planning on doing,” Arven said as Serana caught up to them both.

“No, you need to take this scroll and run. Leave. Right now,” Valerica said as she walked off towards a small building on the edge of the courtyard where they were currently standing. The inside of the prison wasn’t all roofed over, the centre was a large outdoor area – almost like an arena.

“Mother, what’s going on?” Serana asked.

“Where are we, Serana? What is this place?” Valerica asked.

“The… Soul Cairn?” Serana said hesitantly.

“And what do the people who own this place desire above all else?” Valerica continued.

Realisation dawned on Serana’s face, quickly being replaced by panic.

“Arven, can you run?” She asked as she looked to him. She had a look on her face that made him worry.

“Serana, what’s happening?” Arven asked.

Valerica returned a moment later, thrusting an Elder Scroll into Serana’s hands. It was likely the most unceremonious hand over of an Elder Scroll ever seen, as Serana simply took it and strapped it to her back – carrying two of them right next to each other. The weight didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest.

“Think for a moment, human. This place is run by those who desire souls above all else. The more powerful, the more appealing. What do you have an abundance of?” Valerica asked.

Arven paused on the spot.

Ah, shit.

“They’ve gone to great lengths to keep me here, along with one dragon. If you have dozens of dragon souls, they won’t stop at anything to get them as soon as they figure out what you are. That’s why you need to leave, right-“ Valerica said before she paused. The reason was obvious, Arven had suddenly spun on his feet, holding his sword out in one hand as he looked to the sky.

“What are you looking at?” She asked, confused.

Serana was equally confused, until she heard Arven’s heartrate. It had skyrocketed. Then, a second later a deafening roar cascaded across the lands surrounding them – a distinct roar that could only belong to one thing.

A dragon.

Notes:

Hello again! Here I am with another chapter. A little bit longer waiting for this one, but hopefully not too long! I spent a bit more time working on it, as I've already got the next chapter all written out. I was planning on releasing one huge chapter, but it felt far too large to publish in one go, so next week I'll push that one out as well after cleaning it up. As always I hope you all enjoy it, and a huge thankyou to everyone that reads, comments, follows etc.. Everytime I get an email saying someone's left a comment or has favourited the story it makes my day that much better.

Chapter 16: Durnehviir

Notes:

And I'm back a week later, as promised! Switching the notes to the start just for this chapter. It didn't feel fitting to write this after the end. I've got a bit more written so the next chapter should be out within a fortnight, I just have to figure out the pacing of it all. And as always, thank you very much for reading, following, commenting etc. Enjoy!

Arven’s eyes were locked to the sky, scanning it. That roar shook him to his core, his hands trembling from a mixture of exhaustion and fear.

Valerica turned back to Serana. While before she seemed to be a woman fully in control of any situation, a woman who exhumed power, the opposite was now true. She seemed panicked.

“Serana, you need to leave. Take the scrolls and run right now!”

“There’s no time,” Arven said. “You can’t outrun a dragon.”

“You can’t fight one either!” Valerica said. “Dragon slayer or not, in your condition you’re useless.”

“What, and two Vampire Lords aren’t strong enough to at least fight it off? You’re so confident in yourself, but a proper threat comes along, and you just want to turn and run?” Arven asked. He didn’t look back, his eyes locked on where he could feel the dragon was coming from.

“Arven!” Serana shouted, as she was looking back to the entrance to the prison. A horde of undead had started running up, countless numbers of them trying to push into the hallway that lead to the courtyard they were standing in. It seemed as if all those creatures that were staring at them as they travelled back had been following them, dozens now funnelling into that hallway. “We’re cut off!”

Arven looked back for a second, cursing to himself.

“Can you hold them off?” Arven asked.

“I can try!” Serana responded as she held her arms out, icy cold winds coming from her fingers to form a blockade of ice which completely sealed off the hallway.

As she did so, the dragon appeared off in the distance. It was closing in quickly and Valerica cursed to herself. She was surprised though when she realised that the dragon wasn’t paying attention to her at all. Its eyes were locked purely on Arven.

Another roar came from the beast, one that muted all other sounds just before the beast shouted.

“Yol Toor Shul!” A horrific sound came from the throat of the beast as fire came raining down upon the courtyard, a strong enough shout to melt the stone they stood on and cover the entire area if it made contact.

Valerica held her arms out, preparing to form a shield of ice around herself, but it was pointless.

“Fus Ro Dah!”

Arven, standing defiantly in the centre of the courtyard had ripped his helmet off and tossed it to the side as he shouted in retaliation. A wave of pure force came from the man, colliding with the dragon’s shout to bash it away, small embers raining down on the area as the flames were mostly negated.

Arven felt his blood boiling as he did so but he grimaced, pushing it down once more as he held his sword in both hands, ignoring the pain in his arm as he prepared himself.

Valerica’s eyes went wide as she witnessed the magic. A type of magic she had never seen before, with destructive powers that rivalled a master mage. She had wondered how a man could fight a dragon, but now it made sense. He wielded the exact same power that they did. That frightened her. Considerably.

Instead of landing the dragon simply circled around the building, watching as Arven stared it down. Then, it shouted once more. A foreign shout that Arven hadn’t heard before.

“Diil Qoth Zaam!”

While Serana’s wall of ice had stopped the hordes outside from entering, that didn’t stop more from being raised from the ground beneath them by the dragon. Without warning dozens of skeletons started to rise from the dirt while others appeared from the mists. They all charged towards Arven in a second.

Serana started blasting at them before they had even properly formed, bolts of lightning picking them off one at a time. Valerica did the same, although at a slower pace. The woman’s eyes were narrowed, as if she was studying the situation.

Even with the two vampires assisting him Arven still had a number of undead reach him. He swung out with his blade as soon as they got within range, struggling for a moment to adjust to the new fighting stance he took as he no longer had a shield to protect him. He had to be more careful, dancing on the tips of his feet as he ducked beneath blades and dodged out of reach before slicing at a monster one at a time.

He could’ve shouted, but the second he did the dragon would’ve likely taken that as an opportunity to attack. Arven needed time to recover between shouts, or else he’d fatigue far too quickly. And he was already exhausted. As he fought he spun on his heel, turning just in time to face two skeletons both attacking him from either side.

He used Dawnbreaker to parry one sword but without a shield he caught the other blade in his free hand, cursing as the blade cut into his palm. Ripping the blade free from the skeleton he then kicked it away before using Dawnbreaker to quickly dispatch both the undead in two swift strikes, still moving with speed unnatural for any human.

No matter how many he seemed to kill they just kept coming, and the dragon was more interested in watching Arven fight than fighting him itself, it seemed.

With so many undead now lying at his feet, when they rose up once more, their bones becoming whole as they stood with eerie, jolting movements Arven had a moment of panic. That left though as these creatures went to fight the others, and Arven realised that either Serana or Valerica had started raising them to fight on their side. As much as he hated necromancy, it was better than being overwhelmed.

“Serana!” Arven called. “Can you keep these off me long enough for me to kill the dragon?”

“Can you even kill it as you are right now?” Serana called back.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we’re getting out of here unless I try.”

“Go for it then, I won’t let any of these creatures hurt you.” Dashing closer to Arven, Serana drew her blade and cut down a group of skeletons within a second as she moved – the bodies reanimating moments after. At a glance there were dozens of undead surrounding them, if not hundreds, and everyone she killed was replaced almost instantly. She didn’t let that discourage her though, getting closer to Arven to protect him as the man stared down the dragon.

Valerica, on the other hand stayed where she was, picking off every undead that came close enough to her with a casual ease. They didn’t seem to worry her, the only thing that did was the dragon which was still flying around, watching.

Looking up at the dragon Arven took in a deep, long breath, mentally preparing himself for another fight. Then, he shouted.

“Joor Zah Frul!”

A cry of shock came from the dragon as it was struck, flapping its wings as it struggled to fly away, yet Dragonrend forced it to the floor within moments. It landed heavily at the edge of the courtyard, a loud boom coming from it as stone and dirt was kicked up from the sudden landing. The dragon glared at Arven, and only then did he realise how twisted it was. It looked like half of its body had rotted away, its skin decayed with a grotesque substance dripping from its scales. It repulsed Arven, and only made him want to kill the thing even more.

Holding his sword in both hands, Arven paused where he was, feet planted firmly on the stone beneath him. He was tempted to summon a bound bow, but for the bow to be strong enough to pierce scales he likely would struggle to use it with his damaged arm. That only left one option. So, he charged, a defiant scream coming from the man. As he did so the two vampires each watched, yet for different reasons. Serana couldn’t stomach the worry she felt, while Valerica couldn’t help the intense curiosity she had.

As he charged, the dragon opened its mouth once more, preparing to shout. An incredible fire came from its throat as it did so, one just as strong, if not stronger than the flames Arven could produce when he shouted himself. The warrior was tempted to shout the flames away again, but he was exhausted, and fighting the dragon head on wouldn’t work to his advantage. So, he tried something different.

As soon as the dragon opened its mouth to shout Arven did the same.

“Gaan Lah Haas!”

While he didn’t enjoy this shout, as stealing more energy from a dragon wasn’t a pleasant experience for him, it was a necessity considering how tired he was. As soon as he shouted he dived off to the side, holding out his battered arm to produce as strong of a ward as he could, fighting away the flames as he avoided them. While doing his best to avoid the fire he moved between various pillars erected throughout the area using them as temporary barriers before they burnt away.

The ward would’ve shattered in an instant, but the dragon’s magicka flooded into Arven’s body as he drained its vitality, restoring the ward instantly as it struggled to fight off the flames. As soon as the flames stopped Arven sprinted directly towards the dragon once again, cutting down several undead that got in his way while others were picked off by Serana.

As soon as he was in striking distance the dragon opened its maws, trying to bite him yet Arven dodged to the side, rolling on the ground before standing up and slicing at the neck of the beast. Scales chipped away as his blade penetrated them but the cut was too shallow to cause any damage, and a moment later Arven was struck by the dragon’s tail as it whipped around, crashing against his side.

Arven was sent skidding across the floor away from the dragon, his breath robbed of him as he felt something snap from the impact. Yet he held onto his sword, digging his fingers into the dirt to stand back up and charge again as soon as he was able. He felt so sluggish, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t lose his momentum.

“Tiid Klo Ul!”

As soon as the last word of the shout escaped his lips Arven kept running as time seemed to stop all around him. He dashed towards the dragon, who’s eye was still tracking him in an incredibly unnerving manner, but the beast was too slow to react as Arven ran up and rammed the blade of Dawnbreaker right into the chest of the beast, yanking it down to slice a large hole in that rotting flesh.

A scream from the dragon echoed out around them as time sped back up for everyone else, and Valerica’s eyes widened as she tried to understand what she had just seen. In a mere second, the man had disappeared from where he was and was suddenly stabbing at the dragon. She wasn’t sure if he could merely move faster than anything she had ever seen, or if it was some sort of strange magic.

Readying himself to stab the dragon once more, Arven was interrupted as the dragon turned its body, its long neck reaching towards Arven to snap at him. He ducked away but was unable to tear Dawnbreaker free from the dragon’s torso as it got lodged between some scales. Arven went to curse himself for being so careless but he found himself distracted as he was struck once more by the dragon’s tail, his body not responding quickly enough for him to dodge it as it hit him from behind and sent him flying once more. As soon as he came to a stop a group of undead were upon him, dull and rusted blades coming down on his body from the few that managed to reach him before they were destroyed by Serana or Valerica.

With his arms protecting his head Arven rolled to the side to try and escape the assault, his armour being cut in multiple places as he did so. Managing to find his feet, he dodged the swing from a skeleton near him and punched the thing in the head, sending its skull flying as he held his good hand out to summon a blade as he had done in the past. With the shadowy, ethereal weapon he started cutting down more of the creatures as they came to him, turning to see Serana running to his side.

“Arven! Are you hurt?” Serana asked, never stopping the attacks she was landing on the undead that were continually spawning.

“Been better,” Arven responded through clenched teeth. The undead had managed to cut his body in a few places, with fresh blood dripping from his body. He felt like he could feel Valerica’s eyes digging into his back. “If you feel like taking a few shots at that thing, be my guest.”

Nodding to him, Serana turned to face the dragon. “Cover me for a second,” she said as she held her arms out to her sides, crouching down as an immense amount of magicka started to form in her palms.

Arven did as she asked, destroying any creature that approached her while he felt the ground begin to shake. The dragon had clearly noticed as well, starting to stalk towards Serana while its mouth started to open, another shout forming in the back of its throat.

Before it could attack though Serana held out both her arms, a defiant yell coming from her which was entirely drowned out by a bolt of lightning that filled the entire courtyard with a blinding light and a deafening crack. The bolt shot out, hitting the dragon directly on its shoulder as the beast was sent skidding back in the dirt, scales flying off its body as a hole was blasted directly into its body. Serana was aiming for the mouth, but the more power she used the harder it was to control and direct the magic. The wing that was attached to that shoulder was now hanging off, completely mishappen and mangled, yet the dragon was still very much ‘alive’.

Panting heavily Serana muttered something under her breath which Arven didn’t hear. Hopefully though her attack would be enough to give him an advantage. Just as he readied himself for another charge through, a loud crash came from behind the pair as the ice wall Serana had formed to protect them from the hordes outside was demolished – one of the Keepers standing in its place with a large, two-handed dragonbone axe.

Arven felt a sense of dread overcome him. A dragon and undead was already too much for him to handle almost, but the Keepers as well?

No time to worry, no time to pause, Arven thought. Just fight!

“Serana! Keep those occupied, I’ll try and kill this thing as quickly as I can!” Arven shouted as he charged forward once more, not waiting for a response. On his path undead threw themselves at him, each one being bashed away or cut in half. They had no sense of self-preservation, acting purely as obstacles to slow him down. One managed to jump onto him as he stumbled, his legs starting to give out, but Arven managed to grab at it and toss it to the side, slamming it into some other undead. Meanwhile the dragon started stalking over towards Arven, walking on two feet and one wing, the other wing dragging behind its torso as it seemed useless. Spotting his blade resting in the beast’s belly, Arven knew he had to go straight for it.

While Arven was charging the dragon Serana had her own issues. All three Keepers had now entered the courtyard behind them, fully reformed and all with their gazes on Arven. Two of them started moving towards him, while the one with the bow started to draw, a long, deadly arrow knocked.

“Wait, are you ignoring me?” Serana muttered under her breath. “Not smart.” Raising her hands she first blasted lightning at the archer, the bolt hitting the bow which knocked the arrow free from its place. Then she crouched down, her hands on the floor as ice cascaded across stone and dirt to stop the Keepers as they walked. It worked, but just for a moment as they started hacking at the ice that trapped them, trying to free themselves. As they were distracted Serana stood, ready to dash towards the archer Keeper to distract him further, but she stopped as she felt Valerica’s hand on her shoulder.

“Mother? What-“ Serana started before being cut off.

“We need to go, Serana. Right now,” Valerica said.

“That’s what we’re trying to do, but-“

“No, we need to go. Take the scrolls and flee. These creatures aren’t interested in either of us right now. We both need to take advantage of that and run,” Valerica said. She was right. As they spoke none of the undead seemed to care for them. If allowed, they just ran straight past the pair towards Arven.

Serana’s eyes widened, then turned into an expression of anger. “No! How can you even suggest that?” She asked before turning back to the Keepers, preparing to attack once more.

Valerica took hold of her shoulders and spun Serana, forcing her daughter to look at her.

“This might be our best chance to get out of here unscathed, while getting rid of a very powerful enemy at the same time,” she said.

“He’s not an enemy! He came here to help us, why are you even saying this?” Serana asked.

“That man is likely the biggest threat to vampires in Skyrim! Not only does he have a sword designed to kill us, he has the strength of dozens of beasts, each a challenge to us in their own right. If, when he turns on you, he will kill you with no difficulty,” Valerica said.

Serana scowled, shoving Valerica back. She was furious. She couldn’t even comprehend the words coming out of Valerica’s mouth right now.

“He would never attack me! And I’ll never abandon him! I don’t care what you say or think, you’re wrong!” Serana yelled back.

During their argument Arven found himself ducking and diving between undead, fighting off a never-ending horde while trying to find an opening in the dragon stalking him across the courtyard. His limbs felt so heavy, so tired. Raising his arm felt like he was a fatigued, regular man once more. He’d lost count of the amount of undead he’d killed with his bound sword, but they just kept on coming.

Eventually, he spotted a chance. The dragon, tired of walking after him had decided to shout at him once more. As soon as the dragon reared up, mouth open, Arven beat the beast to it.

“Wuld nah kest!”

Dashing forward with blinding speed Arven moved underneath the dragon’s head, right to its side where he grabbed Dawnbreaker by the hilt. He then carried the blade forward with his momentum, tearing a large, gaping hole in the belly of the monster before he ended up running well past the dragon, stumbling to try and maintain his balance with his sword back in his hands.

The dragon let out a painful cry, falling as its stomach started to spill a disgusting slime from its body, instead of blood. It tried to stand a few times but failed, continually falling back to the ground. In a vain attempt it swung its tail once more at Arven but the Dragonborn was prepared this time, dropping to the floor to dodge it before pushing himself back to his feet.

Serana and Valerica were both watching the battle, while Serana had her attention divided between that and keeping the Keepers where they were. She had blasted the bow out of one of their hands and locked the other two up in ice – however it was a constant effort and drain of magicka to keep them there.

Valerica scowled. “I don’t know what your relationship with this man is daughter, but it’s clearly clouding your judgement,” she said as she turned towards Arven, lightning crackling between her fingers.

Serana felt lost for words, completely shocked as she realised what Valerica was about to do.

“If you touch him, you are dead to me,” Serana said in a low tone of voice. “I will never forgive you, and once I escape this place with him I’ll destroy any chance you have of escaping back to the real world,” she continued. She was shocked at the words coming out of her mouth, but she just felt so incredibly angry at the mere idea of Valerica harming Arven that she couldn’t help herself.

Of course, what Valerica said made sense from her viewpoint. Arven was a threat. He was the most dangerous thing to exist for vampires, and if he was any other man Serana would struggle to disagree with her mother. But Arven wasn’t just anyone. He was the man she loved, and he meant more to her than anything else in the world did. Neither her family, nor her blood could come in the way of her relationship with him.

Valerica looked back at Serana, glaring at her, trying to study the meaning behind those words.

“You truly believe he is our best chance at stopping Harkon?” Valerica asked.

“I do,” Serana said. “But that’s not why I’m defending him.”

“You’re a fool of a daughter,” Valerica responded. But, as she said so the woman turned, a single arm outstretched before she blasted the bow-wielding Keeper with enough magicka to send its arm flying off, torn from the shoulder as it crashed against the far wall.

Serana was momentarily confused by the sudden change in her mother’s actions but she didn’t want to waste time thinking about it. Turning to try and find Arven she felt relief as he was standing behind the dragon, who currently seemed unable to walk. Yet that relief turned to dread within an instant.

After Arven dodged the tail-swipe, a throng of undead came upon him at the same time. Some appearing from the mist, others coming from the bones scattered along the floor as the dying dragon behind him shouted once more. Those foreign words that brought the dead to fight for him. The undead weren’t trying to attack Arven, but they jumped on him, holding him in place. The warrior threw them off as fast as he could, swiping at some, killing many, but he didn’t kill them fast enough. He went to shout but the energy needed for it was lost to him. His blood started to boil in response to that need but he pushed it down once more, subconsciously refusing it.

As he was overcome, a pile of undead pinning him in place, the dragon’s tail swiped at him once again. It stuck him directly, knocking countless skeletons to the side before hitting Arven right in the chest and flinging him against a nearby stone wall. The wall cracked from the impact as Arven left a dent where he collided with it, slumping to the ground as blood started to flow from his head.

His vision was blurred, and he couldn’t see properly. Yet, looking up, raising his heavy head and peering out through the blood that now stained his vision Arven saw more walking right up to him – swords raised. He knew he should react. He knew he should raise his sword, hold out an arm, roll out of the way. He was just dazed, and he was so tired.

Would it really be that bad if I just laid here for a moment longer?

With blades raised high, each skeleton drove them down, stabbing Arven through the chest.

Serana screamed. Before she knew it she was sprinting towards him, drawing her blade once more as she ran. She needed to grab him and get out of there. There was nothing else that mattered right now, she just had to protect him.

There was something she had to fight to be able to do that though. Even as it struggled to stand, the dragon Arven had almost slain looked over, seeing Serana running straight for him. Making eye contact with her, the beast the opened its maw, a deafening shout that she didn’t understand coming from its mouth as a torrent of flames attacked her. Holding her hands out in front Serana sent a blizzard from her fingertips, stopping the flames mere meters away from her as the heat threatened to burn at her clothes even as she stopped them from engulfing her.

The flames seemed to last forever, until finally they gave way and she could resume sprinting at the beast. She felt drained, but that wasn’t going to stop her. As soon as she got close enough she jumped, her blade held in both hands as she arced through the air, trying to land directly on the dragon’s back to slice at its scales.

Despite the damage it had taken through the dragon was not dead. As Serana leapt the dragon reared up, raising its good wing to batter the vampire away, making Serana crash into the ground with a booming thud. As she was stunned the dragon advanced on her immediately, hooks from its good wing slamming down on her chest to pin her in place. Serana cried out in pain, hands moving to the wing to try and pry it free but it was no use. The beast was far too strong.

Looking down at Serana with a cruel grin, the dragon then opened its mouth, preparing to shout once more. It was only interrupted as Valerica yelled out in defiance, her anger clear on her face from seeing her daughter attacked as two large shards of ice slammed into the dragon – one on its body and the other on its head. This directed the dragon’s attention elsewhere, spitting fire at Valerica instead of Serana, the older vampire now defending herself in the same way Serana had done before.

As they both struggled, trying to overcome their opponent, Arven was barely kept conscious from the pain that he felt. The skeletons each took turns, driving swords deep into his chest. He felt the blood dripping down his body, he felt the stabs growing more and more numb each time, the pain lessening. But damn it still hurt.

That pain kept him lucid long enough to look out, gazing at the battlefield with hundreds of undead corpses strewn across the place. He looked over to the dragon that he had almost killed, despite being so weak. So damn tired. He knew at least, that dealing that much damage to it should let Serana finish it off. She was strong, after all. Far stronger than he was, right?

Then he saw her, pinned to the floor, unable to move. His vision was so blurred that he couldn’t tell, but it seemed like she had been hurt. It seemed like she had blood on her, and she was unable to move. Then, he saw the dragon who was spitting fire at another target look down at her, its maw opening.

Serana formed shards of ice in her hands and threw them at the dragon, causing the beast to scream as it reared up. In its anger, it raised its one good wing while its foot now came crashing down on Serana, pinning her to the floor with more force as she coughed up blood from the impact.

Arven felt his blood boil. It raged inside him. He felt the anger overcoming every other sense he had within a second. The mental block he had built up from fear stood against it for the briefest of moments, but the dozens of souls residing inside of him all pushed forward. Arven had been angry before, incredibly so – but this was different. He felt the emotion seep through every single fibre of his being, and he was powerless to resist. After all, how could he? Serana was hurt. She was in trouble, and if he didn’t do anything she could die. The mere thought of something hurting her made him see red.

Even though Arven didn’t like it, he felt the personalities of each soul reflected in his own for the briefest of moments as he fully absorbed them. And they amplified his feelings, his emotions, his strength.

His rage.

Reaching out, Arven grasped one of the blades stuck in his chest. He snapped it by closing his fist, standing up as he took hold of two skeleton by the head – crushing skulls beneath his fingers. He felt so much hate and repressed emotions within his body all building up to a dangerous level, and there was only one way he knew how to purge himself of them.

He shouted. It wasn’t a shout like he had done before. No longer did he shout as an imitation, a man pretending to be a dragon. The words that came from his mouth weren’t words shaped to sound like the dragon’s tongue. No, he shouted as a dragon would. With more force than any one dragon could ever dream of, each and every soul he had rightfully taken lending their strength.

“FUS ROH DAH!”

The cascading wave of force shot out from him, tearing up dirt and stones in its path. The ground at Arven’s feet caved in, cracking, splintering from the sheer magnitude of the shout, with bones around him being turned to dust. The shout moved at a blinding speed before it struck the body of the dragon. The beast was sent flying, lifted off the ground as it shot at an alarming speed into the wall on the far side of the courtyard. The entire building shook, threatening to crumble as the dragon sunk to the floor.

It tried to stand but one of its legs had been shattered, and it seemed dazed. Unable to move. Bending down Arven took hold of Dawnbreaker as it rested in the dirt at his feet, raising it high as he broke out in a sprint. Even as blood dripped down his body, even as he should’ve been on the verge of death, he had just seen something try to kill Serana. And he needed revenge.

Advancing on the dragon, the monster turned to him, disbelief in its eyes as it went to snap at him. Arven simply stepped to the side, avoiding the attack before grabbing hold of the dragon’s snout with his fingers clamping onto one of the various ridges lining the animal’s body. With superhuman strength Arven pulled down, slamming the beast’s head into the stone before he raised Dawnbreaker high, the tip pointing down towards the dragon’s eye. Then, with one thrust, he buried the sword all the way to the hilt, slaying the dragon before he took a few stumbling steps back and sheathed his weapon, feeling all of that energy and rage start to leave him, pouring out through the countless slices and cuts in his body.

He fell to his knees, letting out a long, deep breath. Then, he collapsed.

As soon as the dragon died it started to dematerialise, much in the same way any other dragon would. Scales, muscle and bone all faded away into a brilliant light, yet instead of being absorbed into Arven this light, tinted purple was sucked into the sky. While the energy dissipated the undead around them all seemed to collapse, as if their source of life vanished along with it.

Skeletons and mistmen all turned to nothingness, while even the Keepers – who had been rooted in place and severely damaged by Valerica – seemed to wither away inside their shells of dragonbone armor. While Valerica was stunned by the display Serana ignored it, sprinting over to Arven as she knelt beside him, picking him up in her arms while trying to find signs of life.

He was breathing. Barely. His wounds had slowed their bleeding, but not because they healed. He had bled so much, his entire body was covered in blood. He wasn’t conscious, and Serana could barely hear his pulse even sitting right next to him. Looking over her shoulder, Serana shouted.

“Mother!” She yelled, prompting Valerica to walk over at an infuriatingly slow pace. “What do I- How-,” she stumbled. “Do you know any healing magic?”

Valerica just looked at her daughter, her silence providing the answer. Serana turned back to Arven, a hand on his cheek as she shook him.

“No, no no come on, wake up Arven. Wake up!” She said, her words a garbled mess.

“Get him out of here,” Valerica said. “He’s still soul trapped. Get him out of the Soul Cairn then restore his soul. That’s your only chance.”

Even before Valerica finished her sentence Serana had stood, picking up Arven in both arms as she sprinted out to the hallway leading from the prison. She hadn’t even spared a word to say goodbye to her mother. That would take too much time. As she ran she thought of any way she could speed things up, even contemplating turning into that demonic form she never used. She cursed herself now, thinking that maybe if she used it earlier she would’ve been more helpful, that she could’ve saved Arven from being hurt so badly.

Her train of thought stopped as she excited the prison, only to see the dragon waiting for her. Somehow, it had returned. Not only that but its body had healed, the cuts on its torso sealed up while its wing was attached once more.

“Daughter of Coldharbour,” the dragon spoke. “I would speak with the man you are carrying.”

Serana didn’t respond, her feet planted, unsure of what to do.

“Ah,” the dragon continued as he looked to Arven’s limp figure. “Is he alive?”

“What do you care?” Serana spat. “What is this? He killed you.”

“It seems he is, if barely,” the dragon responded before turning its gaze back to Serana. “And I am cursed, not dead. Trapped in this form for eternity. I fought as I was bound to an oath by the ones who imprisoned me here. The hostilities were necessary, unfortunately.”

“What do you want,” Serana muttered as her entire body was tense, adrenaline coursing through her. She heard Valerica running up behind her, only for her mother’s steps to fall short as she undoubtedly saw the dragon.

“I believe in civility among seasoned warriors, and I wish to speak to the Qahnaarin,” the dragon said. “My claws have rended the flesh of innumerable foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle. I wish to converse with the first warrior able to best me, yet it seems he is unable to do so at this point in time.”

“Get out of my way,” Serana said. “I won’t ask you again.”

“This place is draining him of life, isn’t it?” The dragon asked. “You plan to free him from this tomb, to try and save him?”

Serana nodded, hesitantly.

“What is the meaning of this?” Valerica barked as she moved up besides Serana. “I just saw you die, warden.”

“I will not explain myself twice,” the dragon remarked before looking at Serana. “If you wish to save the Dragonborn, I will assist you. I wish to speak to him, and to hear tales of how he managed the defeat of the World Eater.”

“You think I’d trust you?” Serana barked in response.

“If you want him to live, you have no choice. Or do you genuinely think you can move faster than a Dovah?”

Serana stayed put for a moment longer. Yet, she knew the dragon was right. And she knew that the dragon, if at full strength again, could kill them right now if it wanted. So she agreed, stepping up to the beast.

“Serana!” Valerica said. “You can’t be serious!”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, mother,” Serana responded. “I’ll be back. Eventually.”

“Climb onto my neck, and we shall depart,” the dragon said. Serana did so, gently placing Arven over the dragon’s neck, just above its shoulders as she climbed on behind him to hold him in place. Then, her eyes widening with shock, the dragon took to the air.

The flight was far faster than she could’ve ever travelled, and within minutes she saw the portal she had used to enter the Soul Cairn appearing off in the distance.

“Down there!” She called out, scooping up Arven and jumping as soon as she was close enough to the ground. She started to sprint up the stairs, carrying Arven in her arms as she ran to the portal, desperate to get him to safety.

“Should he wake,” the dragon called from behind Serana. “Tell him to speak my name. I would join him in his own world, if only for a brief period of time to fight alongside him, should he find me worthy.”

Serana didn’t register the words as she ran, that shimmering portal inching closer and closer until she finally broke through it, returning to her mother’s laboratory high up in Castle Volkihar. As soon as she did, climbing up those stairs to the landing where she had prepared the concoction that opened the portal she placed Arven down gently on the stone floor, wiping the blood and sweat from his face as she reached into her pocket to pull out his soul gem.

“Please work, please work,” she muttered to herself as she clasped the stone tightly, casting the spell she had been taught centuries ago to release the binding that trapped the soul she had locked away. She felt it break free, and a second later she heard a weak gasp come from Arven’s lips as his heart beat just a tiny bit louder.

“Arven!” She exclaimed as she held his cheek in her palm, the man resting on her knees as she looked to him. Arven’s eyes were cloudy, barely able to open through the dried blood. Serana tried her best to clean them, but there was only so much she could do.

“Arven, hey, it’s okay. Just relax, you’re going to be fine now,” Serana said as she looked to him, offering a strong, sweet smile to try and calm him.

Arven could barely see. He couldn’t feel a thing, except for being utterly and completely exhausted. His soul returning brought a small spark of life back into his body but he had been hurt so badly. He was so fatigued. He simply couldn’t hold on. Despite that momentary increase in his pulse it was fading fast, and Serana started to panic.

“Hey, Arven, listen to me. Listen to me, okay? You have to hold on. You need to hold on,” she said, desperate as she looked around the room for something to help him. Every ingredient she set her eyes on was for the purpose of necromancy or causing harm. None of it would help him now. As she tried to figure out what to do Arven raised a single hand, placing it on her own with the weakest grip imaginable.

“Serana,” he breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Serana looked to him, eyes wide as they became wet. Tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“No, no it’s not!” Serana said desperately. “Please! Please, just hold on.”

Arven’s hand started to slip away, the man lacking the strength to hold it there. Serana grabbed it as soon as it slipped, refusing to let go.

“You don’t… need me. You’ll be okay. It’s fine,” he breathed out again, his eyes starting to close over.

“No, no! Arven!” Serana was shouting by this point, hysterical. Tears were flowing from her eyes now, dripping down onto Arven’s face as she wept.

“Please, you can’t leave me. I need you, okay? I can’t do this without you!” She said. There was no response. Arven just maintained his gaze on her for as long as he could, a gentle smile coming across his face before his eyes finally shut and his body went limp. Serana heard his heartbeat grow slower and slower, until finally she couldn’t hear it any longer.

“No!” She screamed. Her voice echoed around the room, filling the void as she wrapped her arms around Arven’s body and held him close. She squeezed him, his dried blood staining her clothes. “Please, please just stay with me. I can’t do this without you. I love you, I love you so much!”

Her words didn’t reach his ears. She felt him in her arms, his body entirely limp. She knew what had happened. But she couldn’t accept it. She clung to him, openly weeping as she felt like her heart had been crushed, torn from her chest. She couldn’t even be angry, she was just so overcome with grief that she couldn’t feel anything, except for the immense sense of loss.

She couldn’t handle it. It was going to break her.

So, desperate, she did the one thing she knew of that might be able to fix it. Looking down at Arven’s lifeless body, she held his head in her hands. Then, opening her mouth, she sunk her fangs deep into his neck.

The room was silent, where Serana’s wails had occupied it seconds earlier. She sucked his blood out, yet instead of feeding from him, she tried her best to fill him with the energy and magic that ran through her veins. She had no idea if it would work, but she had to try.

Pulling away from his neck she wiped at her mouth, blood and tears staining her sleeve as she looked at the body she still held. She waited and waited. Disbelief started to set in, as the reality finally began to hit her.

“No,” she whispered to herself, breaking down into a woman who could feel nothing but grief and despair as she held the body of the only man she’d ever loved.

Then, Arven’s eyes opened wide. And he screamed.

Chapter 17: Rebirth

Arven’s veins burned. He felt completely disoriented, lost, and confused. A moment ago there had been nothing. No light, no thought, no consciousness. He had felt himself sinking away as an overwhelming calmness spread throughout his body. He, for the first time in years, could breathe out and feel at peace.

Then that peace was ripped away as the sensations started to come back to him. He heard his mind as it was struggling to figure out what was happening. He felt his limbs responding to him, and then he felt that fire running through his body.

The pain was so intense it forced every limb, every finger out straight. His vision went pure white a split second after he opened his eyes once more. There was a voice, far off in the distance, but he couldn’t focus on it. He was unable to think of anything but the debilitating torture his body was undergoing. It felt as if needles were stabbing into his skin and tearing it at the same time, while someone had poured molten steel into his blood stream.

Serana felt powerless. She tried to hold him still, tried to calm him down but Arven started to writhe about, his screams echoing around them both. She hadn’t thought about the transformation. She hadn’t thought at all, really. What she did was on instinct, purely from a desire to save him. Climbing on top of him she grabbed him by the shoulders, pinning him down to the floor.

“Arven! You have to calm down. I know it hurts, but you have to relax or you could hurt yourself!” She said, but her words didn’t reach his ears.

Arven continued trying to writhe beneath her, wriggling, pushing against her grip. His eyes opened momentarily and they were no longer his eyes. The blue that used to be there was shifting, changing. It sunk away becoming a dull, lifeless grey before Arven blinked – and suddenly they were a deep, sanguine red. Serana felt her heart drop as soon as she saw them.

Oh Gods, she thought. What have I done?

“What’s- what’s happening to me?” Arven breathed out amidst his screaming. He hadn’t realised it yet, of course. He had no idea what Serana had done to him. He just woke in excruciating pain with no explanation. It was only when he managed to open his eyes once more, seeing Serana’s face, that he understood. Seeing her gave him some level of peace, as it had done so whenever he looked at her recently. But as soon as he saw the blood on her lips it all changed. He understood.

Arven lashed out, shoving Serana off him before he scurried back up against a wall. The pain in his body started to give way, being replaced with the sensation of an unnatural power. He felt dirty. Then, the transformation truly began.

 He felt his skin start to crawl, and as he ripped off a gauntlet he saw his skin turning an ashen grey, his fingers becoming gaunt, longer, ghastly. It wasn’t a clean transformation either. It happened through jarring, sudden jolts and cracks of muscle and bone, movements that were unnatural, and incredibly painful. The pain returned twice as hard, and he hunched up into a ball on the floor, unable to stop himself from screaming as his body shifted, changing into something demonic.

The sounds of metal snapping were drowned out by his screams as his back began to protest. His shoulder blades were twisting, shifting, jutting out from his body as he felt his skin tearing. Creating an opening. A pair of bony, tattered wings forced their way out of his back, piercing through his armour with no effort as chain links from his outfit ended up scattering across the floor.

He felt his skin continuing to protest, tearing in order to give way, shocking pain that threatened to rob him of his sanity. The rest of his armour was mostly forced off his figure as his torso grew in length. During the process he felt an incredible heat coming from his waist, his skin starting to burn and sear. He instinctively moved a hand down to swat at the source of the heat, knocking Dawnbreaker away from his body.

As he screamed, his tongue sliding over his bottom row of teeth, he felt them changing as well.

By the time the transformation had finished Arven was one of the things he hated most. Still against the wall he scrambled to his feet, hugging the stone in an attempt to stay as far away from Serana as possible. He looked down, seeing his new body – seeing that horrific visage that made him feel sick.

“What did you do to me?” He gasped out as he turned his eyes back to Serana. The woman was kneeling on the floor, her cheeks stained with tears while fresh ones started to well up in her eyes.

“Arven, I’m sorry I had to-“ She started.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” Arven screamed. He knew the answer, he just couldn’t believe it. His memory started coming back more, remembering everything that lead to Serana carrying him out of the Soul Cairn, and that sensation of everything slipping away. He had come to terms with that, but his choice had been violently ripped away from him. And in its place, he was forced to live as a monster.

“I had to Arven! You were dying, it was the only way I could think of to save you!” Serana exclaimed as she stood to her feet. She started slowly inching closer towards Arven, arms out as if she was getting closer to a wild animal.

“You should’ve just let me die,” Arven responded.

Serana swallowed a lump in her throat, shaking her head as she tried to fight the tears.

“How could I do that?” She asked. “What was I meant to do, just go on without you?”

“Yes!” Arven yelled back. “Move on, take the scrolls, fight your father, do whatever the fuck you wanted. Anything but this!” As he spoke Arven’s voice wasn’t his own. It was twisted, it came out deeper, raspy, and ragged.

Serana was trying her hardest to maintain her composure, something which was proving harder and harder by the second.

“Arven I’m sorry, just- just breathe, okay? I can talk you through this, everything will be fine,” she said, still inching closer to him.

He couldn’t, though. When Arven breathed in air it felt wrong. It didn’t feel the same as it did before, his body responded to it differently. Air had a different taste and it was no longer… satisfying? The more he focused on his body the more he realised how different everything was. The way his blood felt in his limbs, the way his heart felt in his chest. He got so lost in those thoughts for a moment that when he snapped back to reality and saw Serana getting closer and closer now almost within arm’s reach, he lashed out.

“Get away from me!” He screamed, lashing out with a single hand. The action was meant to merely ward Serana back but in his new body me misjudged, and the back of his hand struck her. Serana raised an arm to block it just in time, but the sheer strength he had in this form sent her flying back, rolling on the cold stone.

He was momentarily shocked. He hurt Serana, and he felt a strong sense of self-anger at that. Yet, that anger was so weak compared to the rage he felt inside from what he had become. Instead of helping her up Arven felt like he had to get as far away from everything as he could. He had to get away from himself, yet that wasn’t possible. It didn’t stop him from acting on impulse though. Turning on his heel he ran, climbing up a flight of stairs to burst through a door.

He found himself on a balcony high up the walls of one of Castle Volkihar’s towers. Snow had started to fall while they were inside the Soul Cairn, and the worn stone was mostly covered in the soft, powdery white substance. His bare feet didn’t even feel the cold as he stepped out, clawed hands gripping the railing as he looked out back over Skyrim.

A second later he heard Serana following him, standing a few steps away. “Arven, please! Just calm down, you’ll turn back soon, but I need to help you through it,” she pleaded. Her voice was coarse, and tears had formed streaks down her cheeks as she looked to him.

Arven couldn’t listen to her though. He was overcome with anger and fear, and it all came from what he had become. What Serana had turned him into. In that moment, acting not out of sense, but out of instinct as his mind had become twisted by the overwhelming new senses flooding his nervous system, Arven jumped over the balcony before falling to the ground far beneath him.

Serana moved to the railing, holding onto it as she watched Arven fall. The now Vampire Lord hit the ground with a distant thud, seeming to be unharmed as he ran down the coastline, away from the castle. Serana tried to will herself to move, to follow him, but she couldn’t. All the strength had left her. Not only from the battle they had gone through not 30 minutes prior, but from seeing the man she loved die, come back to life, then leave her.

She felt helpless. Despite all the power she had been given, despite all the strength and raw power she held in her body, Serana felt as if she couldn’t do a single thing in this situation. She had saved Arven from death, but plagued him with undeath, a curse which seemed far worse to his own eyes. She had kept him alive, but now it seemed as if she still might have lost him forever.

So she collapsed. Taking a few steps back, she fell and rested against the wall of Castle Volkihar behind her. She didn’t know what to do. When she felt like this, she had started to rely on Arven to make her feel better. His presence calmed her, made her feel safe. Yet because of what she’d done, she’d seen him angrier and more panicked than she ever had before, and she had nowhere else to go.

Curled up in a ball, she wept alone on the balcony of Castle Volkihar.

 

The longer you live, the quicker time seems to pass. This is true for all creatures, and Vampires are no exception. So while her grief had overtaken her, Serana had no real idea of how long she’d been curled up on the balcony outside Castle Volkihar. The snow had stopped and started once again, and the Sun had risen overhead – mostly blocked by the snow and the castle she was leaning against as she wept. Even after all of her tears had run out, her grief hadn’t, and she remained frozen in place.

Seeing Arven turn had brought back twisted memories of her own. Memories of her first time transforming into that beast. Where she was granted the power of a Vampire Lord. Where she suffered for days on end at the hands of a sadistic Daedric Lord. Where her family had truly settled on their path towards fracturing and becoming mad with their lust for power. She tried to block those memories out, but she couldn’t.

She tried to think of Arven, but then she just remembered that look in his eyes as he came back from death, looking at her, terrified with deep sanguine red eyes staring right back at her. Those eyes which didn’t fit him. Those eyes which replaced the blue ones she could stare into for hours, losing herself in. There was seemingly no way to escape these horrid thoughts, and so she curled into a tighter and tighter ball. She tried to clear her mind and become numb to it all, but she was unable to forget the sorrow.

By the time she drew her head out of her folded arms, Serana had no idea how long it had been since Arven had fled. A day? Two? Three? It didn’t seem to matter to her. Why would it? She had nothing to do, Arven wouldn’t want anything to do with her right now, so she was left to her own devices once more. And she had eternity left, so what was a few more days of weeping?

Even as she sat there, exhausted, nothing else seemed to bother her. Nothing else registered in her mind. Even the gnawing hunger which ate away at her, fuelled by her being utterly exhausted from fighting in the Soul Cairn, turning Arven and not eating for days, barely registered in her mind.

If I’m this hungry, I can’t imagine how hungry Arven is.

That thought passed through her mind, fleeting as it threatened to sail away and drift into her subconsciousness, out of her ability to recall. She only managed to snap back onto it at the very end of the thread, her brain scrambling to remember what she had thought exactly, as something about it seemed very important. Once she took hold of it again, and processed it, she was filled with dread.

Arven would have to feed soon. And when that happened, the guilt he’d feel would likely tear him apart.

Serana stood up in an instant, piled up snow falling from her slender frame as she had a sense of urgency about her once more. She knew Arven wouldn’t want to see her. She knew their relationship was likely over, but the thought of him feeding and hating himself for it was far, far worse than any self-pity she had.

Despite everything she had done so far, there was no way she’d sit by idly knowing that the man she loved may be out there, alone, fighting an all-consuming hunger that would tear his morality apart. Serana explicitly remembered the hunger she felt when she first turned. She remembered feeling disgusted with herself after the things she’d done to satiate that hunger, and she wasn’t even against the idea of being a vampire. She wanted it, in a twisted way, and she still had regrets from how the hunger made her act.

Suddenly she was filled with panic. Panic, and a sense of urgency to find Arven as quickly as she could. Approaching the balcony she leapt off it, dissolving into a cloud of bats on her descent before that swarm cascaded along the coastline, covering ground at a blinding pace until she reached the dock. The boat they used to get there was no longer present, she couldn’t spot it anywhere. But that didn’t matter. She kept moving, across the open water and back onto the mainland of Skyrim as she tried to figure out where Arven would have gone.

He’s not thinking. He’d just run, run to wherever is familiar.

He wouldn’t go to Solitude. No, judging from what he said about Solitude Serana knew he wouldn’t go in that direction, even if it was the closest major settlement. Dragon’s Bridge is possible, but what would he do there?

Would he get help? Find a place to hide?

She mentally cursed at herself. She didn’t have the answer. Knowing Arven, he wouldn’t go immediately for help. At least, not unless it was someone he trusted entirely. And if he was going to hide somewhere, he’d want to do it someplace familiar. Or at least, close to someplace familiar. Far enough that he couldn’t be found, but close enough for some sense of security.

Whiterun. That’s the only place that makes any sort of sense.

Moving as she was, soaring across the ground in a swarm of bats, Serana was covering distances that took hours by foot in minutes at a time. At least, in comparison to walking. Arven, in that form would’ve had nearly endless stamina until the transformation hopefully ran its course. Most of the time it went away on its own after the forced transformation, but it was possible to sustain it unintentionally.

Feeding on others fuelled it, made the demonic form last for longer. Serana simply prayed that such a thing wasn’t the case, to whatever God would listen. After half an hour of flying, half an hour of trying to stay focused on her task, a few lights off in the distance stuck out in the moonlight. Dragon’s Bridge.

Serana toyed with the idea of detouring. She didn’t want to waste time, but on the off chance someone had seen him she had to check. Reforming into her human shape on the outskirts of the town she stuck to the shadows, effortlessly melding in with them as she avoided the main road. On the off chance those guards from before were present, she was in no mood to entertain them. As she got closer though, there wasn’t just one, or two guards on the night patrol. She could spot a good five guards loitering around, all looking surprisingly alert given the late hour.

This isn’t a good sign, she thought.

Slipping past them all, Serana found her way to the inn pushing the door open and stepping inside, out of the cold as she removed her hood. It wasn’t until she felt the warmth from a fire inside that she realised how cold she actually was, after spending well over a day in the snow.

“Come on inn, get some warmth by the fire. Let me know if- oh, it’s you!” From behind the counter Faida stepped out, greeting Serana with a warm smile.

“Not travelling with your friend tonight?” The woman asked, a coy smile on her lips.

“Actually, I’m looking for him,” Serana responded. “We… got split up earlier on. You haven’t seen him by any chance, have you Faida?”

The woman shook her head in response. “I’m afraid I haven’t, love. You’re welcome to stay here the night and rest if you need, before heading out in the morning.”

Serana offered her a sweet smile, but shook her head. “Thank you Faida, but no. I need to keep looking for now.” Turning back she placed her hood back on but paused as she felt the innkeeper’s hand on her upper arm.

“Be careful out there. I know you’re the sort that can handle yourself, but there’s something out in those woods,” Faida warned.

Serana’s stomach became a knot. She turned to Faida, a far more serious look on her face. “What do you mean?”

“One of the hunters came across a traveller out in the woods. Poor bastard looked like he’d been torn limb from limb by wolves, or a bear,” Faida responded.

The knot in Serana’s stomach tightened even more before sinking, filling her with a sense of dread. Without responding Serana pushed her way out of the inn, sprinting towards the edge of the town, out of sight before dispersing into a cloud of bats once more.

Please no, she thought. Please don’t be because of him.

 

As Serana travelled, she became more and more exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. With every passing minute she struggled more and more to stop those invasive thoughts from getting into her head. Thoughts of the ceremony she went through. Thoughts of Arven hating her. Thoughts of him turning into a vampire and succumbing to his need to eat.

For some reason thoughts of her past came into her head as well. Memories from when she was a fresh Vampire Lord. Capable, strong, and drunk on power. She thought back to something Arven had said, something she glossed over at the time, but had been lingering in the back of her head.

“I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve never done anything wrong, anything bad, you’re a vampire that has lived for a long, long time. But you’re not a bad person-”

He’s wrong, she thought.

After she turned, she was a bad person. She was a monster. She stood by while her father sacrificed hundreds to Molag Bal. She went on hunts. She resolved her issues with violence and had no qualms about killing a man to further a goal of hers. Even if that goal was merely to feed. When she could force strong people to their knees, people who once thought themselves above her. When she had absolute control and couldn’t be opposed. That made her feel good. Perhaps it was a sick, twisted way of regaining control after what she suffered from Molag Bal, but either way. She did horrible things, and to some extent she felt as if she didn’t deserve Arven.

She thought that she was starting to put that all behind her. As she grew ‘older’ as a vampire those things appealed less to her, but she still wasn’t good by any stretch of the imagination. She still didn’t care about others. She just didn’t go out of her way to cause suffering.

When she met Arven, though, it changed. What started off as a natural curiosity led to understanding, and led to a sense of humanity returning to her that she had lost a long, long time ago. At first his complaints, his views on life seemed comical. Childish. After all, she was older than him by a significant, significant margin. But that inexperience didn’t mean he was wrong. He still had an entirely different worldview he could share with her.

And damnit, she still wanted to know more of that. But was that something she even deserved?

Her mind continued to grow more and more clouded. Even as she passed by Rorikstead she diverted off to the side, deciding not to go into the town to check like she did at Dragon’s Bridge. She told herself that there was no need, as she knew where he was  likely going. But truthfully, she just didn’t think she could handle talking to anyone right now.

Her head, and her heart were both a mess. As they kept boiling up inside of her she reformed into a human once more, her pace slowing down until she was walking in the moonlight, hands clenched in fists by her side. All that emotion came bubbling up, and she raised her head to the sky and screamed.

A yell of frustration and anger. She hated how powerless she felt right now. All that she had suffered through to gain this strength, and it was useless when she needed to find and help the one person she cared about.

Venting her anger to the sky, once that rage left her she was left with a hollow sadness taking up space in her chest. All she felt was longing, and before she knew it Serana was only slowly walking along, her pace and motivation gone as she struggled with those inner demons.

I need to find him. I need to hurry, she thought. But try as she might, willing her limbs to move and actually moving were two different things, it seemed.

As Serana walked in the light of the moon, arms cross her chest, hugging herself with her hood over her head she lost herself in thought. That made it nearly impossible for her to hear the sound of crackling magic before she was struck by a bolt of lightning, crashing into her side and sending her sprawling on the ground before she managed to right herself and jump up, crouching down as she scanned the night for whoever was stupid enough to attack her.

She found her answer pretty quickly.

“Would you look at that, I finally found the traitorous bitch,” Garan said as he casually walked over to Serana, his red eyes glowing deeply in the night while he had one hand extended out to the side, more magicka surging in his palm. “And it looks like she’s alone, as well. I wonder, what did I do to deserve such luck?”

Serana felt anger boiling up inside of her, and she felt thankful. She needed to vent some more, and this was the perfect opportunity to not only do that, but forget about that sorrow for at least a few minutes.

“You couldn’t have picked a worse time to be this stupid, Garan,” Serana snarled. “You never learn, do you? I’m going to send you back to my father in pieces.” Standing up straight, Serana extended her hand and blasted the vampire with magic – the same as she had done in their last encounter. However, instead of the blast knocking Garan off his feet the other vampire merely swatted it away with his free hand before attacking Serana once more.

Her shock almost stunned her, and Serana dodged to the side just in time to avoid getting struck by the destruction magic again. Her eyes wide, she sent a barrage of blasts back towards Garan, each one either being dodged or blocked by the man as they started their battle. Within seconds the ground all around them was scorched, small embers lying on the floor from the bolts of lightning missing their target over and over.

This isn’t right, Serana thought. There’s no way he could get so strong in such a short period of time!

She didn’t have the luxury of thinking about it for too long. She ran to the side, ducking and dodging each blow coming her way. Reaching the crest of a hill she dived behind it, her hands blowing cold winds to form a shield of solid ice behind her just as she disappeared behind the crest of the hill, a mere moment before a blast of lightning blew that make-shift barrier apart. As she ducked out of Garan’s line of sight Serana’s body dissolved into a cloud of bats before they all spread out, flying in different directions before regrouping behind her attacker. Garan’s head was darting about, scanning the air to try and see where each bat was going. By the time he figured it out he spun around, drawing a blade just in time to block Serana’s attack as she shoved her blade towards him. The two then danced across the floor, two blades, each hundreds of years old with intricate designs and patterns etched into the metal colliding against the other. The dim night was filled with the sparks of their blades crashing and the occasional blast of lightning, the two fighters striking with movements so quick and precise that no mortal could truly hope to keep up with every thrust, every parry.

As they fought Serana’s shock gave way to anger, which felt good. She brought her blade down harder and harder every time, sending shocks through Garan’s arms with every single strike. He was shockingly close to her strength but there was still a gap between them, and that gap was something someone as skilled as she was could easily exploit.

“I don’t know how you got this strong,” Serana said. “But you’re still no match for a Vampire Lord!”

In an act of recklessness Garan swiped his blade with two hands, trying to cut Serana’s head clean from her shoulders. She ducked, dodging the blow before striking out with her leg to kick him square in the chest. As he stumbled she then reached out to place her hand against his torso before blasting him with destruction magic, sending the man flying away with a pained shout.

Serana lowered her arms to her sides, each of her senses acutely aware of every sound and movement around her as she waited for Garan to respond. For him to climb back over the crest of the slight hill she sent him flying over, but he didn’t.

Surely that wasn’t enough to kill him, she thought. Taking careful steps, Serana walked up the hill to glance down at her enemy, her sword grasped tightly in her hand as she readied herself to fend him off again. But what she saw, she was not prepared for.

As soon as she peaked her head over the crest of the hill she saw something terrifying. Garan wasn’t standing there any longer. Not as a typical vampire. In his place was that demonic, horrific visage, the one she refused to acknowledge was inside of her.

Standing tall and proud as a Vampire Lord, Garan sneered at her. Then, he charged. Serana tried to duck to the side but she was too slow and he struck her directly, the back of Garan’s hand crashing against her arm to send her flying across the floor. Serana quickly reoriented herself, stabbing her blade into the ground to slow herself as she rose to her feet and raised a hand, blasting the area right in front of her out of instinct.

However, Garan had already disappeared into a cloud of bats. As the blast struck nothing but dirt hundreds of metres away, Garan had reformed behind Serana to strike at her again. He sent her sprawling on the floor once more this time followed by multiple ice shards in quick succession, each one missing Serana by a hair’s breadth as she tried to roll out of the way.

I don’t have a choice, she thought. I have to turn!

Garan wasn’t going to give her that chance, though. Before she could even rise to her feet the man was advancing once more, lashing out with razor sharp claws that Serana could barely dodge. She swung her blade to try and repel them but Garan’s claws sliced the metal, rendering her sword entirely useless as she dropped it to the floor. She kept moving backwards, doing her absolute best to dodge every attack but she couldn’t keep up with his speed and ended up being lacerated on her arms and one of her legs as she did her best to avoid him.

She needed a weapon now. She didn’t have time to transform, and she didn’t have time to think of anything else. She had an idea, but it was going to hurt. As Garan went to strike again Serana turned, facing her back to him. It was a risky move but thankfully it worked as intended, with those deadly claws striking against the Elder Scrolls on her back. Garan’s attack rebounded harmlessly, unable to cause any damage at all to the mythical scrolls which gave Serana enough time to draw the other blade at her waist. Dawnbreaker burned at her hand through her glove as she wielded it but she grit her teeth, bearing the pain as she turned back around and swung the blade.

The light from the blade was blinding, but she had spent enough time with Arven so that she was used to it. The blade arced out and the tip sliced Garan on the arm, slicing his flesh effortlessly to leave a deep cut which was instantly cauterised by the sunlight emitted from the blade.

Garan cursed. “How dare you! You really are a traitor to use that blade!” He hissed at her as he backed away for a second. Serana darted forward immediately, lunging with Dawnbreaker but she wasn’t lucky twice in a row. With a daedric blade or not, she still wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Garan.

The Vampire Lord stepped to the side dodging the strike, then backhanded Serana across the face to send her to the ground once more. Serana barely managed to hold onto her sword and climbed to her feet as quickly as she could, blade raised. However the light from it made it hard to focus on anything, and as Garan approached she didn’t notice the ethereal blade in his hand. She lunged towards him with Dawnbreaker, but the vampire lord was too fast, and he ducked to the side before ramming the summoned dagger into Serana’s ribs.

Serana’s mouth parted, exhaling air in a voiceless gasp of pain as she felt the dagger sink in. Shocked, she couldn’t respond as Garan mimicked an attack from earlier. He placed a hand on her chest and blasted her away with magic, forcing Serana to drop Dawnbreaker as she was sent flying back.

Standing tall and proud, Garan chuckled to himself. Then he laughed. “See!” He called out. “You are nothing! Take away your undeserved advantage of this blood, this gift and you are a weak plaything. A toy, a pet that Harkon refuses to put down.”

Serana’s vision was swimming, blurred from shock her body had experienced. She lay out of sight for the moment, having fallen into shrubs that, for the time being should’ve obscured Garan’s vision. “You realise… he’s going to kill you after you bring me back. He won’t let anyone else have this power,” she called out.

“You think he could fight me as I am?” Garan boasted.

He’s drunk on power. He still doesn’t understand how much stronger father is, Serana thought.

“Your father is a coward! He wouldn’t dare risk a fight he might lose,” the arrogant man continued, his voice a deathly rasp as he spoke in that demonic form. “And once I have more time to understand this power, to fully grasp it? I can break away from his pathetic court and start my own clan. A clan that Harkon would never dare oppose.”

As he spoke, turning his back to Serana she clenched her teeth as she started to transform herself. She let that terrifying blood start to pulse through her body, her skin starting to turn grey. All she needed was for him to be distracted for a second long enough and she could transform and slaughter him.

She had no such luck, though. Garan turned back around, deciding it was time to continue his punishment of Serana and started gliding across the floor towards where she was lying. Although his vision was obstructed, the presence that a vampire lord gave off could always be felt, and as Serana tried to lay low Garan realised what she was doing. He had a look of rage on his face as he noticed her skin changing. Floating in the air, he held both hands out to Serana’s direction and blasted it with destruction magic, the scrubs Serana was using for cover being obliterated as only embers and scorched earth was left in its place. Serana was sent flying back once more, her transformation cut short from the trauma her body was receiving.

“Arrogant bitch,” Garan spat. “Do you really think I’d be that careless? Perhaps I should cripple you, so you can’t give me any trouble as I drag you back home.”

The grin on the man’s face was simply evil, a smile of pure satisfaction and arrogance as he floated over towards the prone Serana. In his hand he summoned the ethereal dagger once more, holding it high above his head as Serana was still dazed, confused. “I’m going to enjoy making you scream, Serana.”

Before he could slice his blade down though, as he had his hand raised high above him Garan only barely noticed the sound of an arrow slicing through the air before it struck his hand, piercing it clean through and forcing him to dismiss the summoned weapon. Within a second three more arrows struck him, two in his chest and one on his arm.

Garan let out a howl of pain, followed by a hiss before tearing each arrow free as he looked to the direction where they came from. There he saw a man, standing with a bound bow drawn and another arrow knocked, ready to fire. He thought he recognised that man.

“Mortal!” Garan screamed as his body dissipated just in time to dodge the next arrow, a swarm of bats dispersing. The man’s voice still echoed out, coming from each winged animal while they surged around his attacker. “You fool! You think you can fight me, when your traitorous protector cannot? Do you not remember how close I came to tearing your head off last time we fought?”

Serana was dazed, bleeding and confused. She didn’t understand. Was Garan talking to… Arven? That was impossible.

As his bats swarmed around the attacker, the lone man didn’t react. He just watched the swarm idly, the bow in his hand disappearing into mist. Garan reformed behind the man, lashing out with deadly claws in an attempt to tear at his spine.

His claws didn’t land though. The man, clad in simple traveller’s attire with a hood covering his head and mask covering most of his face ducked out of the way, dodging each repeated attack with infuriating ease. Garan’s attacks became more and more aggressive, careless as he advanced, yet every one still missed. The masked man had no weapons of his own, only a bandolier across his chest and a belt around his waist. The way he was effortlessly dodging was infuriating Garan. Not only because of his unnatural speed and agility, but because the sheer arrogance to not fight back!

That didn’t last for long, though. As Garan lashed out with a hand the man grabbed his forearm in a shockingly strong grip. An instant later and an ethereal blade was in his other hand, moving straight for Garan’s stomach. The vampire lord dispersed into mist, shooting back a few metres before reforming with a blade of his own as he charged.

The two started a duel of their own. Compared to the duel Garan and Serana had, there was a start difference. It was less elegant on one side, as there was no way a creature that looked so horrific could be called graceful. Additionally, it was far too one sided.

Seeing Garan charge with a sword, the hooded man whispered under his breath and moved with frightening speed, appearing to disappear in one spot and appear in the next a second later. Moments passed, and Garan had a series of cuts all along his body, although they were quickly healing.

Getting desperate, Garan raised his hands for an overhead strike. As soon as the other man raised his sword to block, Garan let his sword dissipate as he lunged straight for him, claws out as he tried to tear the man’s torso in half. It didn’t seem to work.

The man dropped his own blade, reaching out just in time to catch Garan’s arms by the wrists. The forward momentum from the vampire sent them both rolling across the ground, although Garan’s attacker managed to pin him down after rolling over backwards, ending up straddling his chest. The man then raised a fist and attempted to punch Garan’s skull, with the vampire only managing to dissipate into mist just in time, reforming a few metres away. The man instead punched the floor, the stone underneath shattering under the force of the strike.

The Vampire Lord let out a howl of anger, confusing and arrogance raging inside him.

This is impossible! There’s no man alive who can rival a Vampire Lord!

Standing tall and proud once more, Garan then hissed and raised both his hands, vampiric magic swirling around bony fingers as he tried to drain the essence of the man. As soon as he did though his attacker raised a hand in response, a ward forming to block the attack without much trouble. Even though Garan was multitudes stronger than he was back in Whiterun, he was unable to break through this ward.

“How!” He cried. “How are you doing this?!”

The man lowered his arm, his mouth moving to respond. Yet he didn’t speak any words, at least none that Garan knew.

“Krii Lun Aus.”

The words struck Garan and shook him to the centre of his being. He immediately felt feeble. He felt like he was a whimpering, weakened animal staring down the predator that had come to kill him and drag him off to be eaten. He felt fear. In his desperation Garan charged forward, screaming, that demonic screech echoing around the plains as he lunched for the man’s throat.

His attack didn’t reach its target. The man stepped in, dodging the swipes as he formed a fist and punched Garan directly in the chest. The force from the attack cracked Garan’s sternum, shattering it to pieces as he stumbled to the floor, gasping for air. Before he could catch his breath though his head was yanked up, forced to look the man in the eyes properly. There, he saw the reason why he was being dealt with so easily.

Deep, sanguine red eyes.

Garan’s own eyes widened with shock before the man summoned a bound blade within a fraction of a second, the ethereal weapon razor sharp as it was brought to Garan’s neck. His head was severed cleanly from his body and it rolled across the floor, spilling blood as the body of the Vampire Lord sunk lifelessly to the ground.

Serana struggled to see what was going on. Her ears were still ringing from the blast before, and she felt her blood dripping from the stab wound she had suffered, along with the cuts on her limbs. Her body would heal itself, but it was still damn painful. She struggled to get to her knees, trying to stand up but found that her sense of balance had been shot, and she had to place a hand on the floor to steady herself.

Then she heard footsteps approaching her, raising her head to look at the man stepping towards her. He had a mask covering most of his face along with a hood, so it was hard to properly see him. That was, until he knelt down in front of her and removed the hood from his head and drew his mask down, letting her see his face again. That face that she loved, but with deep red eyes staring at her, instead of the blue ones she had looked into so many times.

“Arven…?” She asked, breathing out.

Arven nodded, a gentle smile on his lips as he removed a glove, raising it to Serana’s face to cup her cheek as his thumb wiped some of the blood from her pristine skin.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he responded. “Sorry I’m late, Serana.”

Notes:

Hello again! I'm back with another chapter, after a longer break than I would've liked but I'm back nonetheless! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy with everything going on, and as always thank you for reading and supporting the story. Sorry for the delay, life has been hectic and I'm starting the process of writing an original story of my own, but I'm still working hard on this one too!

Chapter 18: Internal Conflict

Several days earlier.

Arven ran. He ran as fast as his legs were able to carry him. He tried to run until he was completely tired, until he was so out of breath that every other thought vanished from his mind, where he could feel nothing but an overwhelming draining exhaustion, but it never came. No matter how fast he ran, how far he pushed himself, because of this new form that state of exhaustion never came. Because of the beast he had become, his body a ghastly, bony demonic apparition, he couldn’t hide outrun his terror.

He screamed out into the night. That terrifying howl that came from his re-shaped throat echoed around him, bouncing off the mountains of lands which he couldn’t quite recognise at the moment. He had this voice thrown back to him, a horrid thing that made him even more panicked. He wanted to escape. He wanted to forget what he had become but that was impossible. As he ran those distorted, grey claws remained in his vision. He didn’t feel the need to gasp for breath, reminding him that he was no longer human. No longer alive.

Worse still, there was that devouring, all-consuming hunger that was rising up within him.

He tried his best to ignore it as he ran, but with every passing minute, with every passing second he felt that hunger growing stronger and stronger within him. He wasn’t just hungry, nor was he starving. He felt like he’d die if he didn’t satisfy his hunger soon. But food wasn’t appetising to him. He didn’t crave bread, or venison, or even ale.

He needed blood.

That thought made him so angry, so repulsed that in response he felt his dragon blood flaring up. It challenged what he had become, as if reminding Arven that even though he had become what he hated the most, he still couldn’t escape the souls within his body. He remembered what it felt like when he gave into that anger as Serana was hurt and let the energy he’d consumed rear its head and take over for a second and that scared him. So he tried to push it back down, but that just left him feeling cold and lifeless, with nothing but the hunger remaining.

It became a battle of two evils, and Arven couldn’t rightfully figure out which one he could tolerate more. Which one he could live with more.

He ran and ran, further and further. Past startled animals, past rivers and mountains until he stumbled from a shaded area and felt a searing, burning heat. It was so intense that he screamed on reflex before immediately recoiling, looking off with his arm shielding his face to realise that dawn was coming. It was peaking over the mountains far in the distance, and if Arven stepped into that slight glimmer of sunlight it felt as if someone had a hot iron right against his skin, branding him.

Turning back, he found an entrance into the mountains and ran for them. He entered a cave system, finding the darkest part of it before he finally collapsed. He pushed his back up against a damp wall and sat there, head in his misshapen hands as he tried to control his breathing. He wasn’t breathing from exertion but from panic, a near constant state of panic that left him as a mental wreck.

That hunger just kept on gnawing at him. Building inside. He felt saliva dripping from his fangs, and Arven started to notice scents and sounds he never would’ve noticed before. Without his breath ringing in his ears Arven could hear everything. The sound of a drop of water nearby was as if a small explosion had gone off. The dank scent coming from deeper within the cave, from the fungi and moss lining the walls made him feel like he’d choke. Despite the darkness Arven could still make out the textures on the cave walls and floors. He could see everything, even though there was barely any light surrounding him.

The worst part though, was his sense for blood. As he sat there, head in his hands he got a whiff of the sweetest, most tantalising scent he had ever known. His pointed grey ears let him know exactly what it was. Outside the cave a deer was being hunted by a tiger, and blood had been spilt. That scent filled Arven’s nose and made the hunger within him surge, making him desperate for a taste. And it just smelt so damn good.

No. No, no I can’t- I can’t drink any, I can’t give into it!

He hated how good it smelt, and that let the dragon blood within him rise once more. Feeding off that anger, that hate that Arven currently felt. He went to push it down on instinct, reflex, but a small part of him decided that feeling anger was vastly preferable to focusing on the scent of that blood. So he let the anger rise within. He let the energy from the souls he had claimed previously surge within his body. He felt their strength, and along with it the panic that always followed.

His breaths got more and more panicked before Arven hunched over on all fours, head against the cold stone floor as he focused on that anxiety-inducing feeling. The anger, unrestricted, took over his body. That anger was so visceral, so real that Arven felt as if he could see the dragons that he had killed. He felt them nearby, and that gave way to more anxiety. Even with his eyes closed each one of them flashed before his eyes, making him relive every second he’d spent fighting them.

Arven felt as if he was being dragged away to another world. To another plane. Intrusive thoughts of the dragons he’d fought flashed through his head. He had their beliefs, their ideas merge with his own for the briefest of seconds before fading back. He felt each and every beast he had fought remind Arven of his victory over them.

Arven clenched his fists tighter. He wanted to escape these thoughts, to go back to being just a human, but as he opened his eyes he saw his hands once again. His vampiric claws. A different panic rose, and he went right back to focusing on the thoughts. On the fights he’d been though. At least he knew he could handle those, if he had to. It was such a foreign, unnatural feeling to acknowledge the things he’d pushed down inside of him ever since he became Dragonborn. But he had no other choice.

Each and every fight he’d been in flashed before his eyes. Some of the dragons inside forced their perspectives upon him. He saw a flash of a man with a crazed look in his eyes ramming a blade forward. A man battered and broken, blooded and bruised standing up to scream in defiance and strike a killing blow. He saw himself from their perspectives, and that man seemed as foreign to him as his current form did.

Arven screamed. He balled his hand into a fist and struck the floor, forcing the stone to crack and break due to the sheer force of the blow. But he didn’t try and push the panic away. He knew that as soon as he did the hunger would be back, so he focused on that anger as best as he could and lashed out. He struck the floor beneath him. He struck the stone over and over again, yelling. Screaming.

“Why. Couldn’t. She. Just. Let. Me. Die!”

As he struck the floor one last time the anger started to slowly dissipate, and his blood calmed. He still felt the presence of the souls he had claimed, but they had calmed slightly. They no longer raged within him, but merely rested within his body. They made themselves known, but now that they were present they seemed… content.

It was as if they were talking to Arven, reminding him.

Regardless of what you do. Regardless of who you become. We will always be a part of you. Before everything else, you have the soul of a Dovah.

Arven didn’t want to accept that, but it wasn’t much good denying it. It was the truth after all, wasn’t it? Even if he didn’t want it to be, he was faced with two horrible, terrifying truths. He was part dragon. And he was a vampire.

In this situation, with that hunger rumbling inside of his stomach, one option seemed to be a lesser evil than the other.

So as he collapsed on the floor, lying on his back, Arven shut his eyes tight and recalled a chant that the Greybeards had recited to him before.

“Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”

“Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”

“Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”

You are Ysmir now, Dragon of the North. Hearken to it.

Arven never fully understood the meaning of it. Arngeir hadn’t elaborated any further on the translation and it wasn’t something Arven wanted to fully accept at the time. He still didn’t. But between Harkon and Ysmir, if he was to be compared to one, the choice was obvious.

As he recited the chant over and over, muttering the words under his breath, he felt the hunger giving way. He felt it sinking back inside of him slightly, and as he opened his eyes the grey colour of his skin was giving way. He felt his body starting to shrink slightly as the transformation he had been subject to was dimming, relenting. The more he focused on being a dragon, the more the vampiric side of him shrunk back before eventually he was lying in that cave, a man in rags that hung to his body, having been torn apart from the transformation he had gone through.

By the time he seemed human again Arven shut his eyes tight in that cave and silently wept. The hunger had abated, but it was still there. His senses were still heightened, just to a lesser degree. Even now that he had returned to his original body, he was still undead. He still felt that deathly chill running through him. He was still a vampire.

So, with no one else to witness it, he wept. And in his head, all he could think of was the woman who had done this to him. Not from anger, but from a longing for comfort.

As Arven remained in the cave he didn’t quite know what he was waiting for. The first thing would be for the sun to set so he could step outside again, but even when it did, there wasn’t anywhere he could go. What would he even do? He needed to figure out a way to control his hunger, for obvious reasons. That seemed like the top priority.

Besides that, there were only two other things he could think of. First, he needed to figure out a way to undo what Serana had done to him. No matter what, he couldn’t stay like this. Every second he spent with this unnatural cold lingering in his body was a second too long. He had to find a way to reverse it, to become human once more. And he had to believe that such a thing was possible. Even if it wasn’t, he’d do anything he had to do to make it possible.

Secondly, he needed to go find Serana. His feelings regarding her were a complete mess. He hadn’t been able to process them at all, but there were two greatly conflicting emotions within him. A mixture of anger and hate, for what she did to him without his permission, alongside a deep and sincere longing. He wanted to hate her for what she’d done to him. She’d stolen his choice, and destined him to live as the thing he hated most and for that Arven didn’t know if he could ever forgive her.

But at the same time, he missed her terribly. More than he ever would have expected.

As his thoughts lingered on Serana, her face, her smile – they were rudely interrupted.

He smelt something. Something different. Something fresh. Then he heard their voices.

Oh, please no.

“Would you stop that bitch from writhing around so much!” A voice shouted from the entrance to the cave.

“I’m tryin’, but she won’t stop- ah just stay still already!” A second voice called out.

Arven’s ears caught two other voices. One too quiet to properly listen to, and another that sounded muffled. From what he heard it seemed obvious what was going on. He had a brief instinctual moment where he wanted to help, but no. He needed to run.

He immediately got to his feet, running barefoot deeper into the cave. As he did he realised something that he would’ve figured out a long time ago if he had explored the place. He passed traps, trip-ropes, and eventually found a bandit’s hideout.

Where is the way out? There has to be another way out of here!

He eventually found it, but luck wasn’t on his side this day. The sun was still out, and there was no shade to be had for quite a distance. Judging from his prior experience he’d be burnt to death if he stepped out. He could barely even see it was so damn bright.

“Well, ain’t that an interesting sight,” a voice came from behind him.

“Not sure if you’d call a half-naked fool interesting. Won’t have anything valuable. But he might make a nice slave,” a second voice came. It was the quiet voice from before, a feminine one, yet incredibly stern. “Or a punchin’ bag.”

Arven froze. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to be faced with a dilemma like this. He wasn’t ready. Then, he heard the sound of the muffled voice letting out a quiet yelp. The bandits had tossed their captured prey to the floor, and as they did so the hostage hit their head on the stones. The scent of blood dripping down the captive’s forehead hit Arven’s nose immediately. And it smelt so damn good. The animal blood was one thing, but this scent. It was incredible. Every other scent, every other sensation Arven had felt in his life paled in comparison to what he now smelt. For the briefest of seconds he worried that this would ruin joy for him in other things, it was simply that enticing.

But that thought gave way as the panic set in. Arven spun around, looking directly at the source of that blood, and as soon as he did the three bandits froze in response. To their eyes the half-naked man they were jeering at turned into a monster. Instead of a fool, they saw the eyes of a maddened beast. A bright, sanguine red, belonging to a vampire.

“Shit, vampire!” The lead bandit drew her sword, and the two men behind her followed. One of the men raised a crossbow and fired it, the bolt moving towards Arven in what seemed like slow motion. Being so stunned by that scent he didn’t dodge. The bolt slammed into the right side of his chest, making him flinch and take half a step backward. The pain surged through Arven’s body, and he felt his control slipping away.

He took several steps back, up against a wall before grabbing the bolt and yanking it free. He felt a primal instinct rising up within him, telling him to merely fight and have this farce be over with, but he struggled as best he could to push it further down. But it was a fool’s hope. What was he to do next, reason with the bandits? Ask them to leave?

The lead bandit then charged; a sword drawn in one hand as she lunged towards Arven. He was trying too hard to distract himself from all the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that he wasn’t paying much attention, and merely went to push the blade to the side as it came for him. It was moving slow enough, after all. As soon as his palm hit the flat of that blade Arven’s skin felt like it was being burnt. It felt like it was boiling. Letting out a shriek of pain while looking down he understood why, the blade was silver.

Recoiling back, as he found himself with his back against the cold wall of the cave he had nowhere to go, and the blade sliced the side of his torso.

Pain and hunger. No matter who you were, if any man was in enough pain, if any man felt a hunger deep enough, they were almost certain to resort to the mind state of an animal. It seemed that Arven was no exception.

He screamed. A ghastly, horrible scream that made all 4 humans before him pale before they started to visibly shake, the three bandits taking steps back out of pure horror. That scream wasn’t just one to express the searing heat he felt at his side. No, it was more than that. A challenge. Or a proclamation to the people standing before him.

Letting them know that they had nowhere to run. Normally Arven would summon a weapon and start fighting but he didn’t need to do that. No, spell-casting was too proper for the mind-frame he was in right now. Too civilised.

Instead he lunged at the lead bandit. One hand around her neck, he crushed it with ease, his hand squeezing down tight. The action was grotesque, and the woman’s eyes seemed to bulge out of her head momentarily before she spat up blood all over Arven’s face. Arven, or the beast he had become licked his lips.

And that blood just tasted absolutely heavenly.

But there wasn’t enough time to focus on it. One of the other bandits moved forward, swinging a two-handed axe to try and decapitate him. But the man was far, far too slow. Arven stepped to the side, dodging the attack and placing a hand on the man’s chest. He caught hold of one of the bandit’s arms before shoving him with all his might on the breastplate the unfortunate soul wore. The bandit was sent flying back, but his arm remained in Arven’s hand, having been torn free from the socket due to the sheer strength of the vampire.

Blood splattered all over the floor and walls and Arven felt the sheer ecstasy of the moment overwhelm him. He started to smile. He laughed. He let his voice ring through the cave, rebounding off the walls, filling his own ears as he revelled in the pain and carnage he was so easily causing. A few steps forward and a heel to the dismembered man’s face, and he died. Then it was time for the last bandit. Turning to him, the man was fumbling with his crossbow. But his hands were shaking too much to operate it properly.

Instead the terrified man drew a dagger from his belt and screamed, charging forward. Arven didn’t dodge it. He let the dagger ram him in the stomach, feeling the metal sink into his body. It was different, being stabbed as a vampire. As a human you felt the cold metal radiating through your body. But now? It was the same temperature that he was. He felt the skin slicing, parting as it gave away and the pain radiating from it. But there was no cold. Only the heat of agony.

Arven grinned. Then he grabbed the man’s wrist with one hand, crushing it. A second later and his rugged nails had torn the man’s throat open, killing the unfortunate soul as he dropped to his knees, words gargling as blood seeped from his throat.

While the three attackers had been dealt with, there was still one more to go. After all, how could he stop now? How could he stop, when he was having so much fun? Arven turned to the last person, a young wood elf who seemed to barely be out of adolescence. It was a bit of a shock, seeing her type around here. But regardless of race, the same delicious blood ran through the veins of every Man or Mer.

As he stepped closer, he saw the tears streaking down the girl’s face, staining the cloth around her mouth to muffle her as she tried to move away from Arven, even with her arms and ankles bound. She was terrified. The same as the bandits, but she was innocent. Did she really deserve death, then?

That didn’t matter. A small hint of doubt rose within Arven but the beast he currently was didn’t care. She was a Mer, and she was prey to him. There was no need to consider her feelings, or her guilt. But as he thought that he felt his blood boil. He felt somewhere, deep inside of him protest against the idea. It was faint, but it shouted against what he currently was.

Like all vampires Arven had a natural instinct to hunt. And being as hungry as it was, that instinct had simply overwhelmed him.

No! This is wrong! You can’t become what you hate, you have to be better than this!

As the woman continued trying to scramble away from Arven, crying, trying to plead through her gagged mouth Arven felt other memories resurfacing. Memories of people he’d saved from vampires, screaming for help. Memories he had, of screaming out for anybody as his parents had been slaughtered.

The hunger and lust for battle within him died away, and he regained some level of clarity once again. He looked around; at the carnage he’d caused. At the horror. And he realised how easily he’d slipped into becoming an abhorrent monster. He felt his cheeks becoming wet as tears ran down them. His attention was forced back on the woman as she had used a fallen knife to untie her hands and ankles, standing to her feet before removing the cloth that was gagging her and holding the dagger directly at Arven.

He was standing between her and the exit, and he could feel the horror she must’ve felt in this situation.

Arven swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping, or staggering to the side before he used the wall to support his body as his legs threatened to give way.

“Go,” he said under a hushed breath. The woman either didn’t hear him, or didn’t trust him.

“GO!” Yelling at the top of his voice he begged her to leave. To get as far away as possible while he still regained some level of sanity and control over his actions.

The girl hesitated for a second, then dashed towards the exit. She ran right past Arven with her knuckles white from gripping the dagger so tightly. He heard her footsteps as they echoed throughout the cave until the sound was muted as she hit grass instead of stone. As soon as she was out of reach, Arven fell to his knees and screamed once more.

His throat was getting coarse. And that just made him thirst even more. He ran his hands through his hair, curling up with his forehead on the floor as he wailed. But even as he felt complete repulsion at what he had just done. Even as he felt like he could be sick from the actions he’d just taken, he still felt so hungry.

He looked up, seeing through watery vision at the carnage he’d caused. He saw the closest man, the one with the crossbow lying lifeless a metre or so away from him. A pool of blood had formed from the fresh blood still pouring out of the man’s neck, with the liquid getting closer and closer to Arven with every passing second.

A few metres behind him was the body of the other male bandit. Sitting against the wall of the cave, missing one arm and with a face that had been caved in by Arven’s heel. He’d done so much damage with that one kick that the man couldn’t be recognised, his face a mishappen heap of gore and bones. It was a mess worse than that of the lead bandit’s head, who merely had blood soaking her facial features with her eyes still bulging out, her neck crushed to the point where it almost seemed comical.

Arven had his arms across his chest, clutching each shoulder as he suffered alone in that cave. But that didn’t last. No, he was so hungry that even with this absolute horror at his own actions he started to crawl towards the nearest body. He knelt over it, the scent of blood overwhelming his senses. Even as he continued to cry those tears mixed in with saliva that was drooling out of his mouth.

Staring down at the blood coming from the man’s neck he moved in closer, unable to physically stop himself from doing so. He couldn’t resist the urge. He couldn’t fight back, and he realised now that no mortal had the strength to do so.

But he did have another pool of strength he could call on.

Even as he got closer, Arven shouted.

“Yol!”

In a desperate attempt to stop himself from feeding Arven shouted the word for fire, an inferno shooting from his mouth. It caused his body to jump back on instinct, the heat searing at him in a way it never did before as it incinerated the corpse lying in front of him. Arven maintained the shout, letting the flames wash over the cavernous room he was in, illuminating it to the point where it was blinding as it ate up and devoured anything it touched.

He forced all of his energy into that shout until he knew, for certain, that there’d be nothing left. By the time the flames died down the three corpses were barely even ashes. They had burnt away completely, entirely. Even the blood on the floor that was staining the stone had been utterly consumed by the flames. The flames that were so strong that Arven now felt burns on his skin.

That left Arven injured, hungry, and completely exhausted.

---

Irileth was loyal. Loyal to a fault, and stricter with herself than she was with her own guards. She frequently took up extra duties, needed or not. She felt as if there was always something to be done, and if she was ever idle then she’d be practically begging for something bad to happen. And that was unacceptable. After all, she had a Jarl and a city to protect.

It was because of this that she was patrolling the streets late at night. There was no real reason to, there were plenty of guards about, but she couldn’t sleep. So why not be out on the streets, just in case? An extra set of eyes couldn’t hurt, now could it? Of course everything was quiet, with nothing but the sounds of wildlife and the occasional drunkard to greet her ears.

That was until she had a half-naked, bloodied man drop down in front of her.

Standing near the outskirts of the city by a wall, Irileth immediately drew her sword.

“Identify yourself, now!” She demanded, holding the ebony blade at the ready. She didn’t need the stranger to identify themself, though. As soon as she saw those eyes, she knew what was happening. Another vampire attack.

Moving with a speed that was only gained after decades of continuous drills and exercise Irileth struck out at the Vampire, hoping to run it through in one clean strike. But it didn’t work. The beast stepped to the side and grabbed the pommel right where Irileth’s hands were with frightening strength, locking her in place.

Irileth tried to pull her hands free, to grab the dagger at her waist, but she couldn’t. Even digging her heels into the ground she simply couldn’t bring her hands free.

“Irileth,” a voice from the vampire came. “Calm down.”

Irileth turned her head to the man, looking him in the eyes. Past the deep red colour, to see the man behind him.

“Gods…” a muttered voice came from her lips. “They got you.” Looking over the man before her, she saw a familiar face. Yet that face was bloodied, stained with dirt, and had the expression of a man reminiscent of those who came back from war shocked and unable to speak.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Arven said as he released the grip on Irileth’s hands. In response she lowered her weapon, but she didn’t sheath it.

“I need your help,” Arven continued. Irileth studied him, but she didn’t respond. So Arven raised his hands, palms face up and together with closed fists. “Lock me up beneath Dragonsreach.”

Irileth’s eyes widened slightly. “You need to explain yourself, Dragonborn.” As she studied his face more though, there was a pleading there. A look she hadn’t seen on the man’s face before.

“Please, I’m… I’m too dangerous like this,” Arven said in a muttered voice. “Lock me up, and throw away the key.”

Several hours later, Jarl Balgruuf was storming down the stairs to the prisons beneath Dragonsreach. He wasn’t wearing his normal attire, just a shirt and trousers he’d thrown on. It was a bit of a shock to the guards he’d passed to see him in such a state, but it made sense as it was currently in the middle of the night.

“Out of my way, out of my way! Show me where he is,” the Jarl demanded as his voice boomed throughout the prisons.

“My Jarl, you cannot see him! He’s far too dangerous,” Irileth started.

“Bah, he’s saved my hide more times than I can count!” The Jarl responded as he turned a corner, stomping over to a cell that was clearly not like the others. He came to stand in front of a cell which had silver chains wrapped around each and every bar. The inside of the cell was the same as the others, and a lone man was sitting on the straw bed in the corner.

“Arven!” The Jarl called out, stepping up to the bars before he turned to a guard standing behind him. “Get rid of these damn chains, will you? And Irileth, you better not have had that damned wizard mess with this cell!”

Arven looked up from where he was sitting, shock on his face as he looked at the Jarl.

“Balgruuf… What are you doing here?” Arven asked.

“I need you ask you that first, you fool! Why have you gone and locked yourself up?” He demanded, as guards were working on the silver chains to the jail, albeit apprehensively.

In response Arven just looked at the Jarl, no doubt his red eyes shining through the dim light. He motioned to them, as if to explain himself.

“I don’t care if they bit you, Dragonborn. You’re still the same man as before. I care that you’re in this prison that reeks of piss instead of out there getting revenge on whoever did that to you!” Balgruuf responded.

“You don’t understand, I need to be in here. Stop taking the chains away!” Arven called out. The guard doing so hesitated, but a look from the Jarl made him resume his work straight away.

“I’m dangerous! If you let me out of here I can guarantee you I’m going to kill someone, I can’t control myself like this,” Arven pleaded.

“A man with the will to fight dragons doesn’t have the self-control to not harm anyone?” Balgruuf asked. “Bah! Quit it with the excuses, Arven. You’re in your head too much!”

“Balgruuf I just slaughtered three people!” Arven cried out.

The Jarl hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Who?”

“Bandits, I ran into them after they captured an elf girl,” Arven said in a much quieter tone of voice.

“Good! You did us a favour then, damn bandits got what they deserved,” Balgruuf said back in a manner that was exceedingly casual.

“No, that’s not… I almost killed the girl as well! I’m so damn hungry, I could only stop myself from killing her and drinking all their blood by torching the corpses to ash!” Arven said. As he spoke he had his back against the wall, trying to keep as much distance between him and the Jarl as possible. Even though he couldn’t smell blood, humans had a certain scent that, in his current state, was interfering with his ability to be rational.

“He recently turned, my Jarl,” Irileth started. “From what I understand the hunger they feel as a newblood is enough to drive any man to insane lengths.”

The Jarl hesitated for a moment, then spoke with the same confidence he always did. “Fine, so we’ll feed you. Irileth, give me your knife,” he said as he held out a hand to his protector.

Both Arven and Irileth shouted their disagreement at the same time, but moments later another sound caught their attention.

“Get out of my way! I don’t care what you’re telling me, if you’ve imprisoned a thane I’m going to get him the hell out of there!” A new voice called out. Arven knew that voice, of course.

Moments later and Lydia was standing in front of the cell, wearing the same armour she always had on as she seemed to totally disregard the presence of the Jarl and Irileth.

“My thane!” She called out. “Why have they-“ She paused as soon as she set eyes on Arven, no doubt seeing what he had become. She swallowed, momentarily shocked as she saw the man she served reduced to a bloodied, scared beast. But she swallowed whatever fear or doubt she felt, and went to open the cell door.

Irileth immediately stopped her, grabbing Lydia by the wrist.

“What is wrong with you people! Can’t you see he’s dangerous as he is?” Irileth demanded.

“I don’t care, he doesn’t belong in a cell!” Lydia responded.

“He’s said it himself, in his current state he’s a danger to everyone. As a newblood it’s just as likely that he’d tear your throat out as he would greet you if you stepped into that cell,” Irileth explained.

Lydia turned to look at the Jarl, then back to Arven. “You haven’t fed yet?” She asked. She knew about vampires, of course. Some of that knowledge from what she had picked up being a warrior, and some that she’d learned herself after studying. The housecarl had figured that it wasn’t a bad idea to know these things, if Arven was out there fighting the beasts.

Arven shook his head, but he couldn’t made eye contact.

“Alright then,” Lydia said as she turned to the nearby guard and yanked the key he held from his hand. Unlocking the door before the guard could protest she then walked into the cell as casually as she’d enter her home.. Arven tried to scurry back, but he couldn’t get any further away.

Irileth went to call out but Balgruuf placed a hand on her shoulder to pull her back. “Enough, Irileth. This isn’t a matter for you to interfere in now,” he said.

“It’s a matter of security for the city, so it damn well-“ Irileth responded before being cut off.

”Enough,” the Jarl said once more, and Irileth didn’t speak another word.

“Lydia, please! You have to get out, I don’t know how much longer I’ll stay sane,” Arven said.

“It’s alright, my thane. I’m just here to help,” Lydia said. Then, placing the dagger to her neck, she drew blood with a swift cut, her head to one side to expose her neck towards Arven.

Arven wanted to check to see if this was okay. He wanted to express his disbelief, his shock at the situation, but he couldn’t. His body moved on his own, and with that all-consuming hunger driving him forward he leapt off the bed and closed the distance between himself and Lydia in a fraction of a second. He pulled her into an embrace, one hand on the back of her head as his lips formed a seal with the cut on her neck and he began to feast. The second the blood hit his tongue he felt that overwhelming sense of ecstasy, a taste so rich and full that he had never had it’s equal before. A scent that simply couldn’t be improved upon, and one that had such a commanding presence in Arven’s mind that everything else faded into the background.

Immediately the guard, Balgruuf and Irileth turned away as each one felt slightly squeamish from the sound and the sight of the feeding. Arven had his eyes closed, feeling the warm blood rushing down his throat and filling him with a strange, different sort of satisfaction. His stomach wasn’t filling up. He felt as if the energy, the magicka within the blood was sustaining him instead. Giving him strength. He still felt… hollow, but with each passing second his mind started to calm down, started to revert to a non-panicked, human state. It wasn’t until he noticed that Lydia’s grip on his shoulders started getting weaker that he had the presence of mind to pull away.

As he took a step back, wiping the blood from the back of his mouth, Arven felt human again. Well, as close to human as he could be. Being so freshly sated there was no hunger left within him. Even seeing the blood run down Lydia’s neck, he didn’t feel the urge any longer. It seemed appetising in a way, yes, but in the same way that a full man could appreciate the scent of a fresh meal cooking inside an inn. It was nice, but the effect it had on him was almost wholly negated.

With a clear mind, he was then able to see how pale Lydia had become.

“Lydia!” Taking a step forward he placed an arm on her back as she started to stagger.

Shit, how much blood did I just drink?

Raising a finger to the wound on her neck, Arven instinctively went to heal it, restoration magic pooling in his fingertips. As soon as it did he felt the magic causing a painful, burning sensation in his fingers. He immediately cancelled the magic, shaking his fingers in an attempt to rid himself of the pain. Healing magics and undead never really did mix well together.

Of course that happens, he thought to himself. But, pain was just pain. As long as it didn’t kill him, he could handle it. Especially in an attempt to repay a favour like this. Summoning that magic once more he sealed the wound on Lydia’s neck, then grimacing all the while, placed a hand on her forehead as he let the restoration magic flow into her body. Lydia’s skin began to glow softly, and the colour returned to her as Arven let her stand on her two feet once more.

“My thane, ah – thank you,” Lydia said as she held a hand to the side of her head. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I should be thanking you, Lydia. You didn’t have to do that. But yes, I am. I… feel more like myself,” Arven said to her before he turned to the Jarl and Irileth. The former of which had a smirk on his lips, while the latter had her hand on the pommel of her sword.

“I’m sorry, all of this must have been confusing at the least. And I’m sorry I ambushed you like that Irileth,” he continued.

“Are you still a threat?” She asked.

“Nonsense! Look at him, he seems fine,” Balgruuf said. It was shocking how calm he was about the whole ordeal, as if Arven just had a common cold rather than vampirism.

“No, not right now at least,” Arven said. “I feel in control now. But I don’t know how long that will last.”

“Until you need to feed again?” Balgruuf asked.

Arven nodded in response, then Lydia spoke up. “Then we’ll get some vials prepared. You can take them with you,” the housecarl prompted.

Arven turned to her, mouth slightly agape at the suggestion. “You don’t have to do that Lydia, it’s-“

“Learn to take help when it’s offered, lad,” Balgruuf interrupted. “It’s no weakness to rely on those you’ve helped in the past.”

Arven closed his mouth, swallowing as he nodded to the Jarl. “You’re… right. Thank you Lydia, that would be incredibly helpful.”

“Good. Now, are we done in this dimly lit shithole?” Balgruuf asked, prompting a look of judgement from Irileth due to his flavourful language.

Arven scoffed to himself under his breath. “I suppose so, but I don’t quite know what to do now,” Arven said.

“Get you some damn clothes, you fool,” Balgruuf said. “Then, I want to know how this happened.”

Several hours later and Arven was sitting in the main dining hall of Dragonsreach. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating Whiterun rather well. Arven found that he felt comfortable in the moonlight, and it was vastly preferable to running about in the shade of trees during dusk, as he had done after fleeing the cave.

Additionally, he had finally gotten some clothes. No armour like he used to have, but there was some spare leather gear lying around that he ‘loaned’ from the barracks. That included a mask he saw, grabbing it just in case he needed to hide his identity. It seemed especially important for him to be able to do so now.

“Sounds like you visited Oblivion, lad,” Balgruuf said after Arven had finished his story.

“I think I did in a way,” Arven responded. “At least I didn’t run into any Daedra.”

“Daedra might have been easier than what you ended up fighting,” Lydia responded. The four of them were sitting around a table, each with a mug of ale in front of them. Lydia paused as she went to give it to Arven but he took it thankfully, taking a sip. He found that Serana was right. It didn’t taste as ‘full’ as it did before. Far more bland.

“True. An undead dragon?” Irileth asked. “I don’t believe we’re equipped to fight those.”

“I don’t think they can exist here,” Arven said. “It wasn’t natural, and I can’t imagine any necromancer in Skyrim with that kind of power. Plus, I killed the thing, so nothing to worry about there.”

“And what about Serana, hmm?” Balgruuf asked, looking Arven straight in the eye. That caused Arven’s gaze to shy away.

“I… don’t know,” Arven responded. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing her at the moment.”

“Why, because of what she did? Sounds to me like she saved your life, Arven,” the Jarl continued.

Arven shot him a glare in response, his brow furrowed. “She cursed me. I’m not alive, Balgruuf. I’m an undead monster. There are two things I hate most in this world, dragons and vampires. I’m stuck with the soul of a dragon already, but she’s forced me to exist as both of these things at the same damn time.”

In response the Jarl leaned over the table, arms crossed with the mug of ale still in his hand as he looked back at Arven. “You’re sitting here lad, right in front of me. You’re breathing, you can hold a conversation. Vampire or not, sounds like you’re alive to me.”

Arven looked down at his mug, exhaling deeply. “And what if I don’t want to be?” He asked as he looked back up. “I’m tired, Balgruuf. You know the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve fought. What if I was happy that it seemed to be all over?”

As he spoke Lydia moved forward in her chair, ready to object, but a raised hand from Irileth stopped her. She bit her tongue as the Jarl responded.

“You don’t get to be tired lad,” Balgruuf said. As he did Arven scowled at him, but the Jarl continued. “I know that sounds unfair, because it bloody well is. But it’s true. You’ve been given something, call it a gift or a burden I don’t care, but you’ve got it now. And that burden gives you a responsibility.”

“I never asked for any of this,” Arven responded, his voice much quieter than before.

“You think I did?” Balgruuf asked. “You think I want the stress of a damn city on my shoulders? You think when the Stormcloaks were trying to burn down my walls and pillage my city, that there weren’t times when I wanted to hand it all off and disappear?”

As he said that all three of them looked to the Jarl. This wasn’t something Arven had ever expected to hear from him. Balgruuf loved his city, and took a huge amount of pride in protecting it.

“I understand what you mean, Arven. Not to the same extent, I sure as hell haven’t been to Oblivion and back, but I understand where you’re coming from,” the Jarl continued. “But men like us don’t get to rest. Not until it’s all done.” After he spoke Balgruuf took a long, deep drink from his mug before almost slamming it back down, wiping ale from his facial hair.

“What if you died and the attacks kept coming. What if people in this city were dying, being slaughtered and you could’ve stopped it?” Balgruuf said, almost interrogating Arven.

“That’s not fair, Balgruuf. You know damn well it isn’t,” Arven said.

“Aye, it isn’t. But it’s reality.”

Arven cursed to himself, gripping the handle of his mug tighter. As he did the wood beneath his palm splintered, shattering as he gripped it a bit too tight, causing him to curse once more.

“So what, I just accept it and keep on going?” Arven asked.

“That’s all you can do. And work on finding a cure for yourself while you’re out there,” the Jarl said.

Arven perked his head up. “I’ve never heard of one, Balgruuf. And I’ve spent a lot of time hunting these things.”

“And dragons were extinct for generations before they suddenly came back from the dead. Nothing in this world is impossible, Arven.”

Arven let out a long, deep sigh, his head tilting back as he looked at the ceiling.

“So, what do I do now?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you go and find Serana?” Lydia asked as she spoke up. “She’s probably looking for you right now, my thane.”

“Aye, that’s a good place to start,” Balgruuf said.

“I don’t even know if I can face her right now,” Arven said as he ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes.

“What, because she ‘cursed’ you?” Balgruuf asked.

“It sounds like she saved you, more than anything. Well, from what you’ve said you saved each other,” Lydia added.

“I know, but… she knows how much I hate vampires. More than anyone, she experienced it firsthand for weeks,” Arven said.

“Her being a vampire certainly explains a lot,” Irileth commented to no one in particular.

“Tell me something Arven,” Balgruuf said. “Ask yourself. When she did what she did, do you think there was any hint of malice in her body? Do you think she did that to hurt you? Or just because she wanted to do whatever she could to save you?”

Arven opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn’t find the words.

Shit. He’s right.

No matter how he thought of it, he knew that Serana wouldn’t have done what she did to harm him. Thinking about it properly, remembering what tiny flashes of memory that he had from when they escaped the soul cairn, it would’ve been a last resort to keep him alive.

That didn’t reduce the anger he felt at being a vampire, but it made it much, much harder to be angry at her. And he knew that Lydia was right as well. She’d be looking for him right now.

I need to go find her.

“I’m heading out,” Arven said as he stood. It was a rather abrupt end to the conversation but he didn’t see any point in dragging things out any longer. He’d already spent more time in Dragonsreach than he liked to. He placed a hand on his belt, palming over the few vials of blood that now rested there. Turning to Lydia, he thanked her once more. “Really Lydia, thank you. And uh, if I need more-“

“Whenever you need it, my thane,” Lydia said with a smile.

Arven nodded his thanks once more before turning to Balgruuf and Irileth. “Thank you for talking through this with me. When I get back, and when I’ve cured myself, I promise I’ll stay long enough for that dinner,” he said with a half-slime.

The Jarl let out a bark of a laugh. “Hah! A feast lad, not a dinner! And I’m holding you do that,” he said. Irileth didn’t speak, but she nodded towards Arven.

As he left Dragonsreach the moon was still in the sky, with no sign of dawn. But Arven still didn’t want to risk seeing anyone else. Not wanting to walk through the town, Arven instead approached a nearby wall and crouched down, jumping up with strength that he was still getting used to in order to vault the wall in a clean motion, landing on the other side with a roll before he broke out into an effortless jog.

Now, where would she be.

Arven didn’t know exactly where she’d be looking, but he could think of a few places. All of them were on the route from Whiterun back to Castle Volkihar, so with any luck if he just kept running he’d find her eventually.

He was right, and it took just over an hour before the sound of lighting crashing reached his ears. Hearing the sounds of powerful destructive magic being thrown about it could only mean one thing. Serana, and some fool stupid enough to fight her. As Arven picked up his pace, running faster to close the distance he extended his hand and started summoning the ethereal magics he’d used so often.

He expected it to take longer, since his enchanted gloves were now lying on the floor of Serana’s mother’s laboratory, but it didn’t. Within a second he had a solid ethereal bow resting in his palm, just as strong – if not stronger than the ones he could conjure before. Arven couldn’t tell if he was happy with this development or not. Stronger magic was certainly a good thing, but the method by which he had the magic was still far from agreeable.

By the time he came upon the battle Arven felt that instinctive fear rising up in his gut as soon as he saw the grey figure attacking Serana. His immediate thought was Harkon, but no. That didn’t make any sense. There was no way Harkon would be out, alone, hunting another Vampire Lord. There was only one answer Arven could think of, but it didn’t really matter. The Vampire Lord had Serana cornered, advancing on her with a blade, and even from a distance Arven could tell Serana was hurt.

He felt his blood begin to boil.

Exhaling deeply, Arven whispered a shout.

“Tiid Klo Ul.”

With time slowing down, he drew his bow and fired off a volley of arrows at the monster attacking the woman he’d been searching for, and the woman who saved his life. Then Arven fought the Vampire Lord.

Throughout his fight with Garan, Arven felt the anger within himself, but this time he didn’t fight it back, nor did he let it overwhelm him like it did in the Soul Cairn. He just let that familiar presence exist within him. It wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t want to risk losing himself to the more primal violence of his vampiric side. By acknowledging the souls within him, he could focus on that rather than being undead.

By doing this, Arven was shocked with how strong he had become. How quick he was. Not only from starting to accept his dragon blood slightly more, but that along with being a Vampire Lord? He had more power than he thought was possible.

Arven didn’t know if he liked that or not. But, there was certainly a satisfaction to getting revenge for what Garan had done to him the last time they fought.

As the fight progressed, Garan getting more and more desperate, Arven didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to get absorbed in the battle, to lose himself to bloodlust. Either that of a dragon or of a vampire. So as soon as he had the chance, after knowing Garan’s strength compared to his own he summoned a blade and decapitated the beast. With the threat gone, he immediately turned to Serana.

He wasn’t sure what he’d feel when he saw her face again. Anger, frustration. But no, as soon as he looked into her eyes he just felt a wonderful calmness washing over him, along with a deep longing. There was no way he could be mad at her, not when she’d saved his life.

He also came to understand just how deeply and terribly he had missed her, even over the span of only a few days at most.

“Arven…?” Serana said, her voice weak as she knelt on the floor.

Arven knelt in front of her, removing his mask so she could see his face as he cupped her cheek with an open palm, his other hand going to her shoulder to support her. Her skin, still as cold as ever, somehow gave him a sense of warmth as he wiped the blood from her face.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he responded. “Sorry I’m late, Serana.”

Then, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and pulled her into a deep hug, one hand resting on the back of her head as his fingers ran through her wine-red hair.

Serana was stunned for a moment, understandably shocked. She had expected Arven to lash out at her the second he saw her again. But she wouldn’t complain. So she returned the hug, ignoring the pain in her torso as she squeezed him as tightly as she could.

“I’m sorry, Serana. Gods, I missed you,” Arven whispered out as quietly as he could.

“I missed you too, Arven. More than anything.”

Notes:

Hello again! Another chapter, at long last. I hope you've all been well and safe, and that you enjoyed this chapter. It took a bit longer writing out Arven's perspective on the whole ordeal, and I wasn't entirely certain where I wanted to take things in this chapter for a while, but I'm happy with how it turned out.

One again thank you to everyone for reading, and to those who follow/review. I promise that I read each review and comment, even if I don't get the time to get back to you.

Chapter 19: Reconciliation

Arven held Serana for a while longer. At least until he remembered that she was injured, and that he needed to help her. He went to pull away from the embrace but Serana refused, holding onto him tighter as her chin rested on his shoulder, and he started to hear the sound of her softly crying. Her fingers clawed lightly at his back, grabbing onto anything they could to pull him towards her, as if seeing if it was possible to be even closer to him.

In response Arven placed a hand on top of her head, gently stroking her hair.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he whispered.

Serana shook her head. “That’s not why, idiot,” she responded softly, struggling to maintain her composure.

Arven then kept silent, holding her for a few more moments until she pulled away and had to brush her hair from her face, which had gotten slightly matted from dirt, grime and blood. Her cheeks were wet from fresh tears, and when she looked at Arven and saw the colour of his eyes once more, she sobbed.

While Arven had spent some time processing things, at least to a certain extent, Serana hadn’t had the chance. After she had been frozen on the balcony at Volkihar, she had been in a near constant state of panic worrying about Arven.

She reached out, cupping both of Arven’s cheeks with damaged hands as she looked closer at his face, seeing the subtle changes that had occurred. How his features were leaner, and there was less colour to his skin.

“Arven, I’m so sorry – I didn’t know what to do, and I thought I was going to lose you,” Serana started speaking before she quickly began rambling, unable to coherently get her thoughts out as she tried to explain herself.

Arven placed one hand on Serana’s own that was cupping his cheek. “It’s okay,” he started to say before he was cut off.

“No, no it’s not!” Serana responded. “I know how much you hate this, and I know that you must hate me, but I just, I wasn’t ready to do this without you, and I panicked, and-“ her words started to ramble after that, incoherent thoughts spilling out from her mouth.

Arven pressed a finger to her lips, giving her a soft smile as he motioned for her to be quiet.

“Serana, it’s okay,” he reiterated. “I know why you did it.” He forced her to look at him, raising her chin slightly to make eye contact. “I know you just wanted to save me.”

Serana was struggling to maintain her composure, her bottom lip quivering slightly. “You should hate me, Arven,” she whispered. “I can’t – I did this to you,” she continued.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Arven said, slightly firmer while still keeping his voice down. “You did what you had to,” he reassured her.

“Don’t you hate me?” Serana asked, weakly.

Arven exhaled deeply, a sombre smile on his lips. “No. I did, maybe, for a little bit. I wanted to. But I can’t hate you Serana, not when you tried to save my life,” he explained.

Serana didn’t know what to say in response to that. She didn’t have an answer for anything. She had turned Arven into a vampire, then days after she was so helpless, so useless that he had to come and save her, while it was almost certain that he was still struggling immensely. So she just pressed her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him once more to hold him tight as she whispered another apology.

Arven held her, stroking her hair in the moonlight as he tried to focus on her, and nothing else around him. Unfortunately, that was incredibly hard to do so. Only a few metres away lay the body of the monster he had just been fighting, and despite his best efforts Arven had felt a sense of bloodlust rising up within him during that fight. Not only that, but despite being full, there was a pang of hunger. He needed to distract himself from it.

Then, he remembered Serana was still injured. Placing his hands on her shoulders he gently pushed her away, trying to get a look at her body.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked.

Serana looked up at him, seemingly a little dazed.

“Did he hurt you? Injure you?” Arven repeated

“Oh, I’m – I’m fine, Arven,” Serana responded.

Arven gripped her shoulders tightly, shaking her a little bit as if to jolt her awake. “Don’t lie to me, I didn’t see the whole fight but you weren’t exactly winning. How bad?” He asked her once more.

Serana grimaced, then kneeling in front of him showed Arven the damage. Multiple lacerations along her arms and legs, her clothing torn, and most importantly a wound under her chest where she’d been stabbed with a dagger.

“Shit. Serana you should’ve told me straight away!” Arven said as he grabbed the end of his sleeve, starting to tear the fabric.

“I’m fine, Arven. I’ll heal,” Serana responded.

“From cuts, sure. Can you heal from being stabbed like that?” He asked.

“…Eventually, yes,” Serana said.

Arven shook his head, holding out a bit of fabric from his shirt to the stab wound. “Hold this here,” he said.

“Arven, I told you it’s okay,” Serana complained.

“Enough, Serana,’ Arven interrupted. “If I was stabbed you’d do the same thing, and I can guarantee you don’t heal as fast as I did with restoration magic.”

Serana didn’t respond, merely pursing her lips and looking down at the ground. As Arven held the cloth to her side it was quickly getting soaked with blood, and even though it wasn’t from a living creature, Arven had to look away after a few moments as he felt a soft thirst beginning to rise. Nothing to worry about just yet, but it was building.

It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s just in your head. You drank less than a few hours ago.

He needed proper bandages to fix her up, but he didn’t have any with him. It seems he still wasn’t thinking clearly as he left Dragonsreach, since he barely had any supplies with him.

“I need to get you back to Whiterun,” Arven said. “We need to clean your wounds, or they’ll take too long to heal properly.”

Serana went to complain, but she held her tongue. Arguing with Arven right now didn’t seem like the best move. But she was slightly confused when he turned his back to her, squatting down.

“Come on, climb on,” Arven said.

“What?” Serana asked.

“I said, ‘climb on’, now hurry up,” Arven retorted.

“Arven I can walk, I’m not that badly hurt,” Serana said as she placed a hand to the ground, getting ready to push herself up, although she grimaced as a sharp jolt of pain went through her side.

“Serana, I’m not asking. Come on,” Arven said to her as he saw her grimace.

Serana paused for a moment before reluctantly agreeing, but then she remembered something. Turning back around she slowly walked over to where Dawnbreaker was resting on the floor. The wrapping that concealed it before was dirtied and torn, but she didn’t have anything else immediately to use so she did her best to wrap it up and stop any light from escaping.

Bringing it back to Arven, even through the wrapping he felt as if he was looking at the Sun. He squinted and turned his eyes away from the blade as Serana attached it to her back, resting parallel to the ground underneath the scrolls she carried.

“How have you put up with me using that all this time?” Arven asked. “It’s horrible.”

“Worse for you since you’re not used to it yet. It’ll get better,” Serana said. Then she walked up to Arven’s back, wrapping her arms around Arven’s neck. As soon as he did he reached behind her and grabbed hold of the back of her thighs, pulling her body against his as he stood up to give her a piggyback ride.

Then, without a word he started walking back to Whiterun.

The walk was uncomfortably silent. Serana didn’t know what to say, her eyes were still moist and she still felt a truly immense guilt sitting in her chest for what she had done. She had her head resting on Arven’s shoulder, and as she caught the occasional glimpse of his red eyes her heart ached. So she wrapped her arms tightly around him and looked down, keeping her thoughts to herself as he carried her back towards his home.

Serana felt light as a feather to Arven while he carried her, yet he felt an overbearing weight on his shoulders. He still wasn’t sure what to do. He had Serana back now, but there was still some level of resentment. Still a hidden anger he was trying to push away, as he knew it to be irrational.

Not only that, but what next? Does he just continue as he is, trying to stop Harkon? Or can they afford to take a break and try to find a cure?

Would Serana even help him find a cure? She was so opposed to the idea for herself, maybe on some level she’d resent the idea of Arven searching for it.

The two didn’t speak until the gates of Whiterun started to come into view.

“Hey, Serana,” Arven said as he jostled her slightly.

Serana looked up, only just then noticing where they were. “Oh, we’re almost there.”

“Can you disguise us?” Arven asked.

“Disguise? What for?” She responded.

“I really can’t deal with explaining everything to the guards right now,” Arven responded.

“Ah,” Serana said. “Well… I don’t think a disguise would work. I could put them in a trance so they don’t notice us, but that’d involve using my magic on them, instead of us,” she explained.

Arven was silent for a moment, with only the sound of his footsteps ringing out.

“Do it,” he finally said. “But nothing serious, and as soon as we’re in the gates cancel the spell.”

Serana nodded to him. So when they approached the gates, two guards standing to either side, they ignored the pair. They didn’t even see him. It was still night so no guards on the walls called out to Arven. He was able to approach the main gate, open it and slide through without a single person paying any attention to him at all.

It was a pretty convenient trick. He felt frustrated that a part of him considered doing it again in the future.

“Wait,” Serana said as they got closer to Arven’s house. “What about Lydia?”

“She knows already,” Arven said.

“Really? How did that happen?” Serana enquired, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

“Long story. I’ll fill you in later, but Balgruuf knows as well. So does Irileth, and a couple of guards in the prison,” Arven said.

“The prison? What happened?” Serana asked. She started to have a bad feeling sinking into her stomach. She had worried about Arven getting hungry, after all.

“Like I said, long story. I’ll fill you in once we’ve tidied you up.”

As they arrived back home Arven stopped right out front of the door, standing up straight to signal Serana to climb off. She did so slowly, testing her weight before leaning primarily on one leg as the pain in her ribs and several lacerations on one side of her body flared up. She winced, and Arven couldn’t stop his heart from aching ever so slightly after noticing that.

“Lydia? You home?” Arven called out as he opened the door, stepping inside. He got no response. “Must still be at Dragonsreach.”

“Arven, what happened before you found me?” Serana asked once more as she took Dawnbreaker from her back, sliding it behind a bookshelf out of sight.

“Later, Serana,” Arven deflected without turning back to her. Instead he started walking towards the stairs. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a second.”

So Serana remained where she was, holding fabric close to the wound on her ribs. Small drops of blood dripped down her skin and her ruined attire, staining the wooden floor beneath her. Vampiric blood wasn’t quite as potent in its smell, but it was still noticeable. As one of the drops hit the floor she noticed Arven pause for the slightest of moments on the stairs.

She had to struggle to stifle a small sob from escaping her lips.

When Arven returned he had a bag in one hand and a bucket in the other, filled with near boiling water.

“Where will you be more comfortable?” Arven asked. “We can do this here or in the bathroom. Not enough water for an actual bath though, I’m afraid.”

Serana looked down at the bag he was holding. It was covered in dust.

“Been a while since you’ve done this?” She asked as the motioned to it.

Arven tilted his head for a moment before he caught on. “Oh, yeah. Haven’t needed to since I stopped being horrible at restoration.”

Serana gave him a soft smile and started walking towards the bathroom. “I think I’ll need a bath after this. I can fill it up,” she said. And she did. When she got to the bathroom she held a single hand out above the wooden tub before icy cold winds started to flow out from her hand. She froze the moisture in the air, leaving the bathtub full of ice after a few moments.

Arven had followed in after her, looking over her shoulder. “So that’s how you did it. I wondered how you managed this before,” he remarked.

Serana grinned, but grimaced as her exhaustion was catching up with her. She sat down on a stool, holding her ribs. “Yeah. Damn, I’m more tired than I thought. You don’t have any way to heat it up, do you? I’m not the best when it comes to fire magic, and it’ll wear me out even more if I tried to unfreeze all of that.”

Dropping the bucket he was carrying and his medical tools on the floor Arven walked over to the bath, taking his gloves off as he did so. He placed his bare hands on the ice, not even feeling the cold from it as he exhaled deeply, trying to ignore the fact.

Muttering the word for Fire underneath his breath his hands became incredibly hot, and sunk into the ice effortlessly. Holding his arms in the ice for a few moments, before long it was melting around him, the water immediately next to his skin boiling as he got the water up to a nice temperature.

After he’d done so he stood back up straight, shaking his hands to rid them of water. “Alright. Overshirt off, I need to clean your wounds. Maybe stiches for your ribs.”

“Stitches? That sounds… unpleasant,” Serana said. She went to make a quip, to tease Arven as he was basically asking her to strip down, but she held her tongue. The air between them was far too awkward for that right now. So she simply took off her jacket and boots, followed by her pants as Arven turned around to give her at least some level of privacy.

She was left in her briefs and a white undershirt, although it had been stained badly with dirt and blood. She felt rather vulnerable in that moment, letting someone else see her like this. Not only hurt, but so exposed. A part of her just wished the circumstances were different.

When Arven turned back around he paused for a moment upon seeing her, but shook his head and opened the bag of medical equipment he had. Looking through the eyes of a medic, rather than a man, helped to clear his head.

“Where did you get hurt the worst?” He asked as he pulled out some rags, dipping them in the bucket he had beside him.

“Just my ribs, mainly. The cuts he gave me are all pretty minor,” Serana responded. She lifted an arm, stretching out her chest before she winced. “I might have cracked something in my chest as well.”

Arven nodded, and he started inspecting her wounds. Each time he wiped away the grime and blood with the cloth before making sure the damage wasn’t too great before moving onto the next one. “Serana, can you… can we get infections? I’m not quite sure how thorough I need to be here,” Arven asked without taking his attention away from what he was doing.

Serana shook her head. “No, not that I know of. We’re immune to pretty much all diseases,” she said. Referring to them as ‘we’ in this circumstance just reminded her once more of what she’d done.

“And what about natural healing?” Arven asked as he ran the wet rag over a cut on Serana’s thigh. “How quickly can you heal?”

“Depends,” Serana said. “Small cuts are gone overnight. Broken bones are normally gone within a day or so. For a stab like this? I’m not too sure, but I should be fine within a few days. Really, you don’t have to worry too much.”

“I do,” Arven said. “If it’s serious and I don’t treat it, it might take longer to heal. You know you’re still bleeding, right?”

Serana looked down at him. She saw it in his eyes, that hunger that she’d no doubt be feeling if the situation was reversed. She had felt that hunger when she was cleaning his own wounds in this very room.

She reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. “Arven, I can do this. It’s okay, you can go rest,” she said.

Arven shook his head, not stopping what he was doing. “You’re going to stitch up your own stab-wound?” He asked.

Serana didn’t respond. If it was up to her she’d leave it and just sleep it off, maybe tie some cloth to the wound so she didn’t bleed all over everything. But that blood would no doubt be tormenting Arven right now, so she had to do something.

“Lift up your shirt,” Arven said after he had finished inspecting most of the minor lacerations and bruises.

Serana did so, exposing her midriff up to the point where she had been injured. Arven took a look at the wound, wiping the blood away to get a proper look.

“Serana, this is deep,” he said. The wound was thin, but it was a good few inches deep. It looked as if the skin had started knitting itself together already, but it was still bleeding and Arven had to keep wiping away the blood.

“It’s fine, Arven,” Serana said. “I’ve been injured worse than that before.”

“So have I. Would you let me walk around with a wound like that?” he asked. He didn’t get a response, so he took that as her approval for him to treat it. He would normally stitch it up, but it had been quite a while since he’d done that before, so he was slightly rusty. Instead, he had a different thought.

“Alright, I’ve got an idea. This might hurt, but it’ll be far quicker than being poked with a needle over and over,” he said.

“How reassuring,” Serana remarked.

“Grab onto something. It’ll only take a second,” Arven told her. In response Serana held out her hands, looking to him.

“Do you need both your hands? She asked. When Arven shook his head in response, she spoke again. “Give me your hand then.” Arven hesitated, but he did so, holding up his non-dominant hand. Serana grasped it with both of hers, squeezing it tightly. He squeezed back.

Then with his free hand he held a finger over the length of the wound. Channelling restoration magic into his finger, he forced the energy into the skin around Serana’s wound. It burnt him, just as it burnt her, but it essentially cauterised the area where she had been stabbed, sealing it shut and stopping any further bleeding. Serana’s natural regenerative abilities would take care of the rest.

Serana squeezed his hand tight as she felt the slight burst of pain, but it was over within a few seconds. Then Arven gently pulled his hand free, and stood up.

“Alright, you’re all done,” he said.

Serana held onto his hand for a second longer before letting go, running her fingers over the wound he had sealed up. She then ran her fingertips over the smaller wounds he had cleaned. Not so much inspecting the work he had done, but more tracing over where his fingers had touched her.

“The guest room should be set up for you, after you’ve had your bath,” Arven said before he let out a long, deep sigh. Running his hands through his hair, Serana couldn’t help but notice that he looked exhausted.

“I’m going to go get some rest,” he continued. “Tomorrow night, we can figure out what to do next.”

He didn’t wait for a response and walked out of the room, leaving Serana by herself. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. So she just waited for him to close the door behind him as he left, and undressed to sink into the bath, left alone with her thoughts.

Arven went straight outside, to where he had filled up another bucket previously. The water in it was freezing cold but he didn’t care. He had a thought that he’d need it, and he was very glad that he’d prepared it. Dropping to his knees in front of the bucket he splashed the water over his face, before starting to scrub his hands vigorously.

He had hoped that vampiric blood wouldn’t affect him, and to an extent it wasn’t as strong. But it still made him hungry. Even though he had fed earlier on in the evening, after fighting Garan he felt that hunger. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as in the cave but it still made him feel sick.

So he scrubbed his hands until they were raw. He scrubbed them until the blood was gone from his skin and was instead tainting the water. As soon as he’d cleaned it all off he dumped the water and went back inside, walking up the stairs to sit on the edge of his bed. With his head in his hands he took a series of deep, long breaths, focusing on that rather than the hunger as he waited for it to go away.

But it didn’t, it was still there. Still gnawing at him. A small part inside of him that seemed ever present. He thought about getting himself riled up, letting the souls within him stir to overwhelm the feeling, but he couldn’t muster the strength for it. He was just tired.

A number of thoughts ran through his head. Was it this hard for all vampires? Did Serana have to deal with this all the time? She seemed to manage it rather well, for the most part.

Was he just weak-willed?

Taking his head from his hands he looked at the dresser opposite him. Sitting on it was a series of vials that Lydia had filled up. Reaching out he grabbed one, holding it close. He could feel the warmth coming from the bottle. The colour looked so incredibly rich through the glass. He felt his mouth starting to salivate a bit, and the hunger began to gnaw at him with more force than before.

But he couldn’t bring himself to drink it. He just held the vial up against his forehead, eyes closed as he struggled to maintain his humanity. So he just sat there, squeezing that vial tight, and doing his best to resist the urge to bring it to his lips.

He did that until he heard the door to his bedroom opening. Looking up, he turned his head to see Serana standing in the doorway. Her hair was clinging to her body, still damp after bathing, and it seemed as if she had found one of Arven’s shirts to wear. It was far too big for her, and the bottom of it reached down to the middle of her thighs.

As she saw him holding that vial of blood she immediately walked over to him, climbing onto the bed and sitting right behind him. She wrapped her arms around his chest, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed to his broad back.

“Gods, Arven. I’m so sorry,” she whispered into his shirt.

Arven responded by placing a hand over one of her own, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stared down the vial. He was trying his best to suppress his frustration with everything. His anger, and his sorrow. Serana felt his shoulders start to tremble, just a little bit.

“Why is this so hard, Serana?” Arven asked as he looked at the blood, watching the way that light refracted as it came into contact with the liquid. “It’s just hunger, why can’t I ignore it?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Serana responded. “It gets easier, trust me.”

“I just,” Arven started before he cut himself off. “I didn’t realise it would be this bad. The things it almost made me do. The things I did do,” he continued.

“Arven, what happened?” Serana asked. “Please, tell me. I want to help you,” she said.

So Arven told her. He started telling her what had happened after he ran away. How he ran until the Sun rose, and he struggled within himself to get rid of the transformation that she forced upon him.

He told her about the bandits who entered the cave. He told her how he fought them, and how easily he lost control. About how he slaughtered them, and how he enjoyed it. Unfortunately, those memories, as recent as they were came back to him perfectly as he thought of them. The way that he had revelled in the feeling of being able to paint the walls of that cave red with the blood of the bandits who had attacked him. How he wanted, for that one moment, to kill the poor Elf who had been kidnapped.

He spoke about how badly he wanted to eat them after he had killed them all. How close he got to it, and how he would’ve done so if he didn’t burn them all to a crisp.

Then he explained how Lydia knew. When he asked to be locked up, and parts of the conversation he had with the Jarl afterwards. After that he just kept talking. He had started, and he didn’t know how to stop. So he just said whatever came to his mouth. He talked about fighting with Garan, even though Serana had watched it himself.

Arven described the conflict he felt, satisfaction at beating Garan so readily, but a level of sickness knowing that part of the reason why he could do such a thing was because he himself was a vampire. He kept on talking until he told Serana about how the entire time he was treating her wounds, all he could think about was blood. He wanted to be worried for her, yet that overriding desire to feed was more important.

He told her how hard he’d been trying to push that urge back down, even after he had already drunk blood once. And how he’d spend the last 15 minutes staring down the blood in the vial, trying to will himself to put it away. But he couldn’t. Eventually he ran out of things to say, and he simply sat there, rolling that vial between his thumb and index finger while Serana held him from behind.

He had emotions within him that he wanted to express but he couldn’t. He hadn’t slept since he had turned, and after coming down from his transformation, fighting the bandits and fighting Garan, he had no energy left.

“I just want to sleep,” he said under his breath. “But whenever I close my eyes, whenever I try to relax, all I can feel is this hunger. And I’m paranoid that when I do sleep, all I’ll see is nightmares of the things I’ve just done. When I close my eyes, I can still see their bodies. It’s as if I can see the monster I became in that moment.”

Eventually he turned his body, looking around to meet Serana’s eyes. He only then noticed that she’d been crying, although she made no attempt to hide it.

“Does it get easier?” Arven asked.

“The hunger?” Serana asked.

Arven nodded. “All of it. I just think… what if I’m like this forever, now? I know at times it’s hard for you, but you seem to be in better control of it. Or at least you’re just far stronger than I am.”

Serana shook her head. “I’m not stronger than you Arven,” she responded. “I don’t know a single man alive who is. When I turned, I lost myself for days. I didn’t have the discipline to control myself like you have.”

Since Arven turned around she broke off her hug, but she instead reached out for his hand, holding it tight. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” She said as she forced eye contact with him. “The hunger, the things you’ve done. That isn’t who you are. The things you did to fight it? What you’re doing right now? That’s what defines you,” she told him.

“Most vampires take weeks, months before they’re able to reign themselves in, and it does get easier,” she continued.

Arven closed his eyes, reaching up to rub one of them from sheer exhaustion. “And what if I can’t turn back?” he asked.

“Turn back to being a human?” Serana clarified.

Arven nodded to her. “I know you were against it when I brought it up for you, and you might not like the idea, but-“ he said, before he was cut off.

Serana had grabbed his cheek, pulling his face back up to look at her.

“Arven, I need you to look at me, okay?” She started. “I know I told you that I’m against turning back. That was for me, and things have happened since then. But that doesn’t mean anything when we’re talking about you, do you understand?” As she spoke she didn’t break off eye-contact, almost staring down Arven even though there was still moisture in her eyes.

“If you want to try and find a cure, if one exists, I’m going to do everything I can to support you,” she said. “Even if you tell me right now that you can’t stand the sight of me and you need me to leave? I’ll leave, and I’ll still do everything I can to find the cure and get it to you. And if it doesn’t exist? I’ll make it exist, okay? The two of us broke into hell and escaped. If we can do that, we can get you back to being human.”

Arven didn’t respond straight away. He just looked at her until she had finished, before he turned away, wiping something from his eye. Then, even as he was hiding his face he grabbed hold of her hand again.

“I could never tell you to leave, Serana,” he whispered mostly to himself. But of course, she heard him.

So she smiled at him. “If there’s anything I can do for you Arven, please just ask me,” she said.

Arven didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was still barely a whisper.

“I need to sleep,” he said. “That’s it. But I’m… scared to, I think.” Arven cursed to himself, shaking his head. “Gods, it sounds so idiotic. I fight dragons, but I’m scared to close my eyes.”

“It’s not stupid, Arven,” Serana said. “I’ve felt the same way before. Very recently, in fact,” she told him.

Arven looked to her, seeming slightly surprised.

“I know how to deal with it though,” she continued. “I can help.”

Arven didn’t verbally respond, but he nodded to her. So Serana stood up. “Take off your boots, you can hardly get comfortable with those on.”

Arven did so, and took off his gloves and shirt as well. He discarded them in a pile at the foot of his bed, hardly having enough energy to put them away properly. As he turned back to his bed he saw Serana closing the door to his bedroom, before turning back and walking towards him. As she was still just in that shirt of his, she reached out for his hand and guided him to the bed.

Arven gave her a look of confusion, but she smiled. “Trust me, okay?” She asked. “Come on.”

So Arven did. As she guided him, he laid down on his side and she did the same, the two facing each other. Serana pulled the blanket over them both and the two simply laid there, roughly a foot or so away from the other. Before Arven could open his lips and say something she reached out, placing a hand on his head before she began gently stroking his hair.

Her touch was so incredibly soft, so inviting that Arven couldn’t help himself from leaning into it ever so slightly. He felt himself relax, just a little bit.

“You aren’t using any magic, are you?” he asked.

Serana shook her head. “No, none at all. I promise,” she said. Then, ever so slowly, she moved a bit closer. She came closer and closer until she was able to pull Arven into her chest, one hand on the back of his head as she ran her fingers through his hair while she began to hum a tune ever so softly. It was the same one Arven had enjoyed when they were travelling together, the one that had him moving closer to her so he could hear it better.

Arven initially tensed up when she pulled him in. Not only because it was unexpected, but for other obvious reasons. It had been a long time since he was this close to a woman. But that wasn’t on his mind right now. Despite his initial tension, he let himself try to relax. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer.

Then, the worries he had started to fade away. Instead of seeing the bodies he’d maimed when he closed his eyes he could only see her. Her scent filled his nostrils, the tune she was singing filled his ears. She quickly became the only thing he could think about, hear, see or smell. And everything else faded into the background. Lying there, in her arms, despite everything Arven finally had a moment where he could feel completely at peace.

Sleep came up to reach him, and he was able to get some rest.

Notes:

Hello again! Back with a slightly shorter chapter, but hopefully not waiting as long makes it worth it! Once again I hope you're all enjoying reading it. There's a lot I've wanted to, and still need to unpack with Arven's emotions regarding becoming a vampire, and I hope it's all been enjoyable to read so far. Fingers crossed I can come back with another chapter fairly soon. But if not, I hope you all have a safe and happy holidays!

And as always, thank you for reading, following and reviewing. It means so much!

Chapter 20: A Promise

Restless nights were common for Arven. While he didn’t often remember dreams, he could tell when he’d been plagued by them. Waking up in a sweat, or feeling as if he’d only slept for a couple of hours when he’d been lying there for at least six or seven. Those nights were common to him.

Waking up feeling fully rested though, that was new. As was waking up and not being able to see.

Blinking, Arven couldn’t see anything. Well he could, but his vision was taken up by something. Something light, and ticklish. He went to move an arm, but he found that his arms were trapped. One of them was lying underneath a rather heavy weight that didn’t budge even a little when he tried to pull on his arm gently. His other arm wasn’t stuck, but as he went to move it something pulled it right back into place. A moment later, and he felt a rather soothing sensation of something scratching gently at his bare skin.

It took him a bit to realise what was happening as the grogginess one felt after waking left him, and he understood. His vision was totally obscured by Serana’s long hair, as he laid on his side, cuddled up to her with one arm wrapped under her body and the other resting on her torso. His head was relaxing on her chest, and the two were in somewhat of a heap, all tangled up.

Arven’s bedsheets had been half kicked off their bodies, only covering his feet. He was only wearing his pants, while Serana was the opposite with only a shirt and her undergarments. There was a small moment of shock, but he didn’t feel the panic he might’ve previously expected, or the desire to quickly pull himself away. He just felt incredibly comfortable.

As he lay there, he felt Serana’s chest rising and falling with her breathing as she slept. The gap between her breaths was much longer than you’d expect from someone who was living, but it was still comforting. Serana’s hand was absentmindedly running over his forearm. She alternated between running her fingertips over his skin and running her nails against it instead. Both felt rather soothing in their own way.

While her touch was cold, Arven’s was as well. Both of their bodies produced little to no heat, so while he might’ve previously gotten uncomfortable, perhaps sweaty from being like this for too long, that didn’t happen. So he was rather content to simply lie in place, giving Serana a soft squeeze as he let his eyes close once again.

There were thoughts and questions to answer, of course. He was horribly confused as to what their relationship was. It was no doubt unique; how many people could say they were developing strong feelings for the woman who saved their life by turning them into a vampire?

Not to mention, the way in which their relationship was ‘progressing’ was far from normal. This was the first time Arven had shared his bed with anyone in years. With a woman who he had stronger feelings for than any women who had come before her, if he was being truthful to himself. By a significant margin, no less.

Yet despite how close they seemed to grow; they hadn’t kissed. Nor had they properly spoke of their feelings to each other. They had spoken of it to some extent. At least, Arven had memories coming back of such a thing. When he had felt life slipping from him, with Serana kneeling over his body, speaking to him.

But he couldn’t really take those words to be truthful, could he? She was merely stricken with grief.

Right?

But, that wasn’t something to dwell on. Right now Arven felt relaxed. And he had forgotten how much he enjoyed such a thing. So, his eyelids closing once more, he willingly let sleep greet him again.

As his eyes closed, and his breathing settled back down into a steadier, more natural rhythm, Serana opened a single eye to peer down at him. Confirming that he had gone back into a light sleep, she smiled. A single hand was raised from Arven’s forearm, tracing up his arm, fingers against his bare skin until she was running them through his messy hair. Arven seemed to nuzzle against her subconsciously as she did so, and her smile grew wider. All as her heart ached. It ached so much, yet it had never felt as full as it did now.

Since they were no longer fully covered by the blanket Serana went to sit up ever so slightly, doing her best not to disturb Arven. But as she did she found that his arms gripped her tighter, refusing to let her move away. She paused, looking back down at him. It was almost perfect, everything in that moment. She just wished she could feel the warmth from his arms that he used to radiate, before she stole that from him.

But it wasn’t a matter to concern herself with now. Instead she laid back down, readjusting so they were facing each other once more. She looked over him as Arven had his eyes closed, lips ever so barely parted as he took in slow breaths. With her forehead lightly resting against his she had a hand caressing his cheek with her thumb reaching out to gently brush over his lips. There was a temptation, a rather extreme one to steal a kiss from him. She wasn’t going to give in, as it wouldn’t be fair to do such a thing while he was unconscious and couldn’t agree, but she rather enjoyed that temptation.

She simply enjoyed lying next to him like this, and wished it could go on forever.

Of course, it couldn’t. As she laid there, she heard the sound of Arven’s front door slowly creaking open. With a deep, long sigh, Serana did her best to remove herself from the tangled heap the two found themselves in. Moving ever so delicately, and placing the hand that was wrapped around her down on the bed as gently as she could instead of letting it drop, Serana found her pants and put them on, muffling the sound with illusion magic as she did so.

Opening the door she peeked out to see Lydia standing near the kitchen and – all of a sudden, the scent of blood hit Serana’s nose. Feeling a small amount of panic she descended the steps, peering around the corner until any fears she might have had stopped. Lydia was standing in the kitchen with a few empty bottles, bottles which she was now filling up with her own blood. The woman barely winced as she cut her forearm, letting an almost shocking amount of her own blood flow from the wound.

Taking the opportunity while Lydia was distracted, Serana stuck into the guest bedroom without making a sound. She then opened it, purposely ensuring that she did make sound doing this, enough so that Lydia would hear.

Lydia did in fact hear that and she turned, just as she had started sealing the vials.

“Oh, my lady,” Lydia said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you did I?”

Serana shook her head, a hand in her hair as she ruffled it to try and make it straight again. “No, not at all. Don’t mind me,” Serana replied. Although, she couldn’t help but feel slightly worried.

“Lydia, that’s a lot of blood,” she said.

Lydia looked to Serana, then back at the vials. “It’s fine, my lady,” she said as she corked the final vial. “It’s the least I can do.” As soon as she was finished Lydia pulled out another potion, this one full of a lighter red liquid that she then drank. As soon as she did the bleeding stopped, and Lydia let out a short sigh.

“You really are dedicated to him, aren’t you?” Serana asked as she leaned up against a wall.

“It’s my duty after all,” Lydia replied. “I am sworn to be his housecarl, to protect him and this city. Arven does everything he can to keep Whiterun safe, so by helping him I’m helping the people who live here,” she explained.

“I doubt most housecarls would go to the same lengths, though,” Serana stated.

“It’s only natural to help someone who’s saved your own life, my lady,” Lydia responded. That made Serana raise a brow. “Spilling a small amount of blood to help him, considering what he is now, it doesn’t seem like much. I just hope-“ Lydia said before she suddenly cut off.

In a rather uncharacteristic moment, Lydia then stuttered for a moment, looking to Serana. It was as if she just remembered. “Ah, I’m sorry my lady, this must be-“ she said before she ran out of words again. She went to hide the vials, then paused, obviously unsure. “I’m not… do you, want…?”

Serana raised her hands shaking them as she suppressed a small chuckle of laughter.

“I guess that secret is out in the open now. And no, I’m fine, although it’s kind of you to check,” Serana said. “I’m not hungry.”

“Still though, the smell?” Lydia asked.

“I’m used to it. But, it might wake Arven if he isn’t in a deep sleep,” Serana explained.

Lydia cursed softly under her breath.

“It’s fine, he’s been sleeping for hours. It’s about time that he woke,” Serana said. “And thank you, on his behalf. You’re making this much, much easier for him.”

Lydia didn’t respond. Instead, the woman turned to Serana, facing her head on. Seeing her like this, it was obvious that Lydia was rather strong in her own right. Despite being a rather attractive woman she still had a strong frame.

“There was no other way, was there?” Lydia asked. Although it wasn’t a question, more as if she was trying to reaffirm a statement.

Serana paused before she understood what Lydia meant.

“No, there wasn’t,” Serana said in a softer tone. “When I… When I turned him, he was already dead. There was no heartbeat.”

Lydia nodded, not speaking as she absorbed the information. She seemed incredibly stiff, stern, almost as if she was ready to move if she needed to. To fight. But she relaxed, if only by the smallest amount. Then she bowed her head to Serana once more.

“Then I have to thank you once more, for saving him,” Lydia said. “I’m sorry, please excuse me, I’ve disturbed you enough for one day.”

“It’s quite alright,” Serana said, although she didn’t make any efforts to stop the woman as she left. Serana let out a long, deep sigh as the door closed behind Lydia once more.

Gods, that was awkward, she thought to herself. There was obviously a strong level of resentment, or at least judgement that the woman held towards Serana. And she couldn’t blame her, not really. If Serana cared for someone, and another person came along and dragged them through the danger that Serana had subjected Arven to? Well, she’d be far less agreeable than Lydia was.

Shaking her head slightly, Serana looked at the vials neatly resting on the table. She felt a small pang of hunger. Fighting Garan had taken some of her energy away, but she didn’t need to eat right now. And the thought of drinking blood that wasn’t Arven’s felt… wrong, almost.

So instead she turned, deciding to sneak back upstairs. With any luck, Arven might still be sleeping. And if he was she could slide back into bed next to him.

It seemed that luck wasn’t on her side though. When she placed a foot on the first step she heard the door to Arven’s bedroom opening and a few seconds later he was descending the stairs, before he paused as he realised she was standing at the bottom.

“Morning,” she said with a soft smile. “Well, not morning. But you get it.” Of course, it wasn’t morning. It was late afternoon, with the Sun starting to set. Light enough that they couldn’t leave the house, but it wouldn’t be a long wait until they could.

“Was Lydia just here?” Arven asked. He was still groggy, rubbing his eyes with a hand as the other grabbed onto the railing to guide him down the steps. He hadn’t put on his shirt, and Serana caught herself staring just a bit as he walked past her.

She had been feeling conflicted the night before. On one hand she had Arven in her arms, and that brought her an immense level of joy. On the other hand, he was right there, but there was still so much that she couldn’t do with him. To him. Things that she very, very much wanted to do, but things that would be entirely inappropriate.

Her first priority was to help him navigate life as a vampire, either temporarily or permanently. Her feelings and desires came second to that.

“She was, yes,” Serana said to answer him after she regained control of her thoughts. “Did the scent wake you up?”

Arven nodded at her, although he was looking to the vials on the table. He sighed, his broad chest deflating as he did so. Serana couldn’t help but watch, her eyes alternating between tracing the lines of definition on his chest, and the scars that littered his skin.

“Yeah, it did,” he said. Raising a hand to his mouth he pushed his index finger under his top lip, running it along his teeth. He felt one of the canines, long and pronounced, and razor sharp. So sharp that he nicked himself on it, although the wound healed within seconds.

“Why am I so hungry, Serana?” He asked before turning back to face her. “You can go days, longer without it. I’m already starting to feel like I can’t focus if I don’t get a fix sooner or later.”

She walked up to him, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching down to grab his own hand. “It’s normal,” she said. “You’ve only been a vampire for a few days now. You’re still in the infancy stage so, you’re hungrier than usual. It will pass.”

“How long will that take?” Arven asked.

In response she pulled on his hand, guiding him to sit down on the table opposite her. “You should sit down. I haven’t really had a chance to answer all your questions about this. When I turned I was prepared, so I can only imagine the things going through your head.”

Arven paused for a moment, looking back at the blood.

“It’s okay,” Serana said. “I know you don’t want to, but that was given to you, freely. No one was hurt to get it. No one will get hurt if you drink it. If you don’t want to then I won’t judge you and I won’t press, but if you do, there’s nothing wrong with that Arven.”

Looking at the vials, seeing the way the blood seemed to swirl within, an incredibly rich, deep colour that was so irresistibly alluring, Arven felt saliva filling up his mouth. He swallowed it, then moved over to grab a bottle, pulling out the cork. Just as he went to lift it to his lips, Serana was beside him with a hand on his own.

He looked at her, confusion and a small amount of anger on his face. “Why-“

“Let me,” Serana interrupted. “Right now you can’t tell the difference between how much you need, and how much you want. When you start you won’t want to stop, and you could end up wasting a lot of it.”

Looking back to the blood in the vial, Arven exhaled and relented. He gave Serana the vial and tilted his head back, opening his lips. In response Serana held the vial just above his head before pouring the blood in. As soon as it hit his tongue, that incredible taste washed over his senses once more. His eyes went wide, and before he knew it his hands were reaching up for the bottle to rip it free from Serana’s hands.

Thankfully she was ready for that and pulled it away, placing a firm hand on Arven’s chest to hold him off. She wasn’t strong enough to push him back if he really tried, but it shocked him back into a proper state of mind.

“I-” Arven started, blinking. “Sorry. I didn’t even realise what I was doing.”

Serana responded with a sweet, gentle smile. “It’s alright. Come on, you need a bit more.”

So she did the same as before, but this time Arven balled his fists at his sized and tried his best to focus on keeping them there. The taste of the blood overwhelmed him once more, but instead his arms were kept shaking at his sides as he fought for control. All while guzzling down the blood like his life depended on it.

When Serana pulled away and sealed the bottle once more, Arven turned his back to her. He walked over to the closest wall and reached out, hands flat against it as he looked down to the ground. He breathed in deeply. Not out of a need for oxygen, but in an attempt to calm himself. The hunger was worse than before. As soon as he started to feed the hunger intensified tenfold and he needed more. He needed so much more of it.

But, that feeling was quickly subsiding. It ebbed away along with his incredibly slow heartbeat. And eventually it was gone. He wasn’t entirely full, but the hunger was no longer there. He then stood up straight and, as Serana suggested sat down at the table. After doing so he ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the table while cursing under his breath.

“How is anyone meant to resist that by themselves?” Arven asked.

“They aren’t,” Serana answered as she sat down opposite him. “Almost every vampire goes on a rampage when they first turn, unless they’re supervised by others. But like I said, it will pass. You’ll get more and more control every time, I promise.”

“I hope you’re right,” Arven said. He then looked up at her, arms resting on the table. “So, what do I need to know?”

“What, no immediate questions?” Serana asked.

“Too many to sort out.”

“That’s fair enough,” Serana responded as she tilted her head off to the side, thinking to herself. “Well, I suppose the most important things are all the physical changes. First of all, especially as a vampire lord, you’re going to be even faster and stronger than before. Considering how strong you were already, I don’t even know just how powerful you are now.”

“So I’m the same as you? As your father?” Arven asked.

Serana hesitated for a second before answering. “Almost. I think… actually, I’m really not too sure.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” Arven said with a small smirk.

“Oh, good to know you’re still a smartass even when you’re undead,” Serana retorted. “But no. I haven’t turned anyone else before, neither has father or mother. I was shocked when father offered his blood to you, honestly. But I think you’re one step down from us.”

“What do you mean?” Arven asked.

“Well, we all got our blood from Molag Bal himself. Since we got it from the original source, we’re ‘pure-blooded’, as father likes to say. You on the other hand didn’t get it from the source. You’re one step removed. Still far above any regular vampire, but I don’t think your vampirism is quite as, well, ‘potent’ as mine. Or fathers,” Serana explained to him.

“I could still turn into… that, though,” Arven said.

“It was different,” Serana said. “I didn’t really notice at the time but your form was a bit off. Your wings were more tattered, and the shade of your skin was more pale as well. It was the same for Garan, if I was able to turn I’m sure that I would’ve been able to beat him.”

“Well, that’s… I don’t know how to feel about that,” Arven said as he looked down to his hands.

“I think if, hypothetically, the blood kept being passed down generation to generation it would eventually get to the point where the transformation wouldn’t be possible any longer. But that doesn’t matter,” Serana said, trying to stop herself before she rambled on for too long.

“Am I stronger than your father?” Arven asked.

“In his human form? Most definitely,” Serana responded. “As a vampire lord? I’m… well, I’m not sure. I would say it’d be close.”

Arven didn’t respond. He knew he was stronger than he was before, he just didn’t feel like testing it out. Having his strength come from the two beasts he hated the most didn’t make him eager to go around flaunting it. But if he could simply go and fight Harkon as he is now? Well, that might just make the whole ordeal worth it.

“Although, after what you did in the Soul Cairn? Honestly, even if you fought like that without the vampirism you would’ve given father a run for his money,” Serana added.

“What do you mean?” Arven asked. His memory of the Soul Cairn was still shaky at best.

“After I got injured. I thought you were dead, but you stood up and shouted with so much force that you sent the dragon flying. It was incredible, honestly. I’ve never seen something shock mother so much before either,” Serana said.

At the mention of that fight Arven reclined back into his chair. He knew what she was talking about, of course.

“What was that, Arven? You’ve never shown power like that before,” Serana asked.

“I… ah, dammit why is this still so hard to talk about,” Arven said. “I suppress a lot of the strength that I get from being Dragonborn. I’ve done it so much it’s basically second nature to me now.”

“I didn’t even know you could do that.”

“All my power comes from the souls I absorb, yeah? Except when I use that power or when I shout, I can feel the souls flaring up inside of my chest. They… it feels like they’re raging around inside of me. The more power I use, the more I feel their presence. And I feel their emotions, as well. The anger and bloodlust those dragons have, it all rises within me, and I hate it. So I try not to use it,” Arven explained.

“You sounded like them, you know,” Serana said.

Arven didn’t reply, but his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Inviting a response, yet at the same time being critical of what she said.

Serana shrugged meekly. “When you shouted, I thought for a second that another dragon had come down. You sounded just like them, your shout. If anything it sounded more draconic than the ones I’ve heard from them.”

“I hope you don’t mean that as a compliment,” Arven said with a half-crooked smile.

“No, no of course not,” Serana quickly replied. “I’m just saying. It was strong.”

Arven clasped his hands in front of himself on the table. His thumbs were fidgeting as he took in a breath. He was starting to wish that he could just go back upstairs, back to how he was an hour ago. He could never say that though, could he? There’s no way he could ask Serana for that.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one having those thoughts at that moment.

“These souls, they were the only reason I managed to turn back into a human,” Arven said.

“What do you mean?” Serana asked.

“When I first turned. The only way I could transform back, from being a Vampire Lord. In that form I was so consumed by everything and I just couldn’t focus. The only way I could was by trying to think about something else that’d distract me,” Arven said.

“So you focused on being Dragonborn?”

“Yeah, something like that. It was funny,” Arven started. “When I, I don’t really know how to describe it. When I let the souls out, I suppose. Let them free, they raged. It was like my dragon blood was fighting against the vampiric side of me. I said that I could feel their emotions sometimes, and it was like they were angry, that I’d become dirty.” Arven scoffed, a half-hearted laugh coming from him.

“Maybe I do have something in common with them after all,” he continued. “But after I focused on that strength for a while they… settled down, somewhat. It went from a raging flame to just this, burning ember. Remining me that they were there, but it was nowhere near as mentally demanding.”

“And what about now?” Serana asked.

“Gone,” Arven answered. “I pushed it all down as soon as I felt like I could.” A weak grin on his lips, he shrugged. As if apologising. “It’s going to take more than that for me to get comfortable with it. If I ever do.”

“But anyway,” he continued, purposely changing the subject. “Do you think if we went back to Volkihar now that I could beat your father?”

“No,” Serana replied. “Well, if you could coax him out to fight you one on one? Maybe, you’d have a good chance honestly. But that’d never happen. He’d throw everyone in his court at you, every creation he has in that castle before he fought you himself. Unless you feel like you could take on a couple dozen vampires at once, I don’t think we’d stand too much of a chance. Plus, if he was willing to turn Garan, he might be willing to turn others.”

Arven cursed softly to himself. “And what if I brought the Dawnguard?” He asked.

“If they cooperated,” Serana added.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they, this is the whole reason that they exist.”

“It is, and they’d cooperate if you were still human. But two Vampire Lords asking them for help?” Serana shook her head softly. “Honestly, I don’t think they’re going to do much for us now.”

“I may be a vampire now but I fought for them before this. They know who I am, they wouldn’t just kick me out. Kick us out,” Arven retorted.

“I like your optimism, but Isran… isn’t a trusting man. He already has some qualms about trusting you. If you turn back up I’d bet good money that he’d assume I’ve won you over, and that we’re there to trick him somehow,” Serana said while she folded her arms across her chest. She was still wearing that plain white shirt, and as it shifted about Arven’s gaze kept getting distracted.

Not that Serana was any better. With Arven sitting across from her shirtless, she was having a harder time than usual focusing on their conversation.

“Well shit,” Arven muttered. “So what, we just have to keep working with the scrolls then.”

“Yep,” Serana added. “Same as we were before. We’ll just be hunting for a cure while we’re at it.”

Arven grunted in response. He’d be doing everything he could to try and find a cure, of course. But his optimism wasn’t exactly high.

“I suppose either way we’re going back to that castle though, to talk to the Moth Priest,” Serana said.

“We have to go to Winterhold first. Drop by the College,” Arven said.

“Winterhold? That’s a long detour,” Serana said.

“And a cold one. I know.”

“Oh actually, it isn’t,” Serana argued. Arven looked to her, a single brow quirked. “Vampire, remember? You can’t walk under the Sun, at least not for a while longer until you get used to it but you’ll basically never get cold again. Remember the blizzard when we first met?”

Arven’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, you’re right. I guess that’s one perk.”

“But anyway, why are we going there?” Serana asked.

“There’s the other scroll, remember? I left it at the College,” Arven explained.

“I… I guess that works. But why the College? You aren’t exactly the scholarly type,” Serana noted.

Arven scoffed. “No, but there’s a librarian there who’d sooner see Skyrim burn than have harm come to his collection. It’s safe there.”

“Not a bad place to do a bit of research either,” Serana said. “See what the college knows about vampirism, and cures.”

“It’s worth a shot. There’s a few other things I want to check out as well,” Arven said. “Travelling is going to be frustrating, though.”

“Why’s that?” Serana asked.

Arven sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he did so. The action distracted Serana, and she found herself staring. What’s more, she wasn’t exactly being subtle. After a night of sleeping with him in her arms it should’ve cleared her head, or so she naively thought. But if anything it had the opposite effect.

Instead she found herself looking. Her eyes ran along this figure, from his bare chest to the arms crossed over them. She knew he was muscular, but seeing him without a shirt emphasised that fact. And after touching him, her fingers resting on forearms, tracing along the veins running up his arm, a palm pressed flat against his broad chest which was shockingly firm to the touch, her other hand resting on his broad back which she just wanted to dig her nails into as he-

“Serana,” Arven said in a much louder voice than the one he had used previously.

Serana blinked, moving her eyes up to meet Arven’s own. She did her best to feign ignorance, simply raising a brow at him.

“Really?” Arven asked. He couldn’t hide a smirk of amusement, but it was mixed with a level of disbelief.

“Hmm?” Serana’s brows shot up a little bit, feigning confusion.

“Don’t hmm me, what the hell was that?” he asked.

“What was what?”

Arven just sighed. “Okay, what was I just talking about?”

“Going back to the College,” she said immediately.

“No, after that. While you were staring at me, zoning out, pursing your lips…” Arven retorted.

Serana’s feigned shock turned into a more real version. “I- I was not doing that,” she said.

Arven uncrossed his arms, instead placing his hands on the back of his head. “You definitely were. What, are you hungry or something?” He asked.

Gods yes-

”No,” Serana said stronger than she intended, pushing unwanted thoughts out of her head. She cleared her throat. “No, sorry. I just zoned out a little, I think I’m still a bit tired.”

”…right,” Arven said. He knew, of course. He wasn’t quite that dense. But while it was incredibly amusing, it also raised a few questions that he wasn’t ready to talk about yet.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he then continued. “Travelling is going to be a pain.”

Serana, who was now looking off to the side, deliberately not at Arven to try and clear her head resisted the natural urge to look back at him as she went to question him. But she didn’t have to, as he continued on speaking.

“Only being able to travel during the night is going to be painful. We’ll have to plot out places to stay, unless I get used to the sun really quick,” he explained.

“It’ll likely take more than a few days, I’m afraid,” Serana responded. “If it was winter it wouldn’t be as bad, but the winter will make things unpleasant. Once we get to the colder weather though it might be doable for you.”

“So, I’ll need to have a look at inns. I’d rather not be sleeping in caves every night,” Arven said.

“A nice warm bed is more preferable, yes,” Serana remarked.

“There’s an inn about halfway,” Arven remembered. “The midnight? No… Nightgate Inn. That’s it. We could make it there in one night, then to the College the next.”

“You know Arven, we don’t have to leave right away,” Serana said as she finally looked back to him.

“Why not? There’s no point in just waiting around, Arven asked.

This time she was looking him in the eyes, the ones which looked at her with that captivating, sanguine gaze. As a vampire Arven would no doubt be able to seduce women, or even men with ease. But that wasn’t why Serana felt as she did now. No, those feelings had been there for quite a while now. Although she did feel regret at seeing a pair of red eyes looking back at her, instead of blue.

“More rest isn’t a bad idea. You’ve only been a vampire for a very short time, giving yourself more time to get used to things might help,” she argued.

“If we waited for me to get used to being a vampire before we left, we’d stay here forever,” Arven said.

Serana hid a grimace. “Fair enough. But still, a few more days and your tolerance for blood will likely be better.”

Arven let out a sigh, thinking to himself. “Honestly, a part of me does want to just rest. Forget about fighting and just take some time to do… nothing. But I don’t know if I can do that here, not as I am,” he said.

Serana tilted her head, prompting a response from him.

“This city is too full. I can smell people walking past the door. It’s impossible to properly relax, not while I’m awake. I’m half paranoid that the smith down the road will cut her finger and I’ll go crazy,” he continued.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a nice cabin somewhere in the woods,” Serana joked. “For someone who likes their private space, having a house in the middle of a city wasn’t the smartest move, you know.”

“Not all of us can afford a castle off the coast, Serana,” Arven retorted with half a smile. “Would a cabin in the woods even be enough for a Lady like yourself?”

With you there, I’d have everything I need. Those words danced on the tip of Serana’s tongue, threatening to slide off at any second. But she held them back, now wasn’t the time for more teasing.

“I mean, it’d have to be a big cabin. Maybe built into the side of a mountain. Get some servants, y’know. The usual stuff,” Serana said.

“Oh yeah, your regular, average cabin. You can find those all over the place,” Arven said, rolling his eyes.

“See? You get it.”

The two then sat in silence for a moment, before it was broken by Arven standing up. He moved to go back upstairs, his movements seeming slightly lethargic.

“I suppose I should get ready. No point wasting time,” he said. As he passed Serana, noting how she was still half-dressed, he quickly averted his gaze. “We should both get ready.”

“What, what’s wrong with how I am?” Serana said as she stood up, one hand on a hip cocked out to the side. Arven didn’t look, which just made her pout.

“Oh come on, you bore,” she teased as Arven started walking up the stairs, although he called out behind him.

“I think you’ve done enough staring for the both of us for one morning, haven’t you?” He asked.

Serana felt a blush coming to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away before Arven could notice, should he decide to look back. She thought about denying it, but it was clearly too late for that. Mentally she chastised herself. A woman of her age acting like a love-struck teenager was embarrassing at best.

But, a part of her liked acting this way. Despite the embarrassment, it felt good. It almost made her feel human again, in a way. Like a young girl stumbling over herself handing her first crush with an innocence that had long since been lost to her.

She rather liked that feeling, and found that she wanted to hold onto it for as long as she could.

Eventually Arven came back down the stairs, wearing the same outfit he had on when he rescued Serana from Garan earlier. Now that she could study it more, it was the total opposite of his usual attire. Instead of steel plating, armour befitting a warrior, he wore simple leathers. He’d gone from a soldier to a traveller.

A traveller with broad shoulders she wanted to dig her nails into, but still.

“So what’s with the new look?” She asked, sizing him up. She had also changed back into her regular attire, except her sword was now missing and had been replaced with Dawnbreaker, all wrapped up.

Arven looked at her confused before he realised what she meant. “Oh. Well, my armour is sort of ruined. Lying in pieces back at the castle, from memory. I don’t think it’d even do me much good if I got it,” he said. “So, the Jarl gave me some new clothes.”

“But why that? Surely he could’ve given you some actual armour,” Serana said.

“Didn’t seem fitting, honestly,” Arven said. “And I’m not even sure if I need it. I’d rather be comfortable while we travel.”

“Not fitting? Why not?” Serana asked. She had a feeling that she knew why, but she wanted to understand.

“Well,” Arven started, letting out a brief sigh. “I’m not the same anymore, am I? When’s the last time you saw a vampire walking around in steel armour? It’s just… I feel like I’d be lying if I walked around looking the same as I used to.”

Serana walked on over to him. She extended a finger, placing it on Arven’s forehead to give him a gentle poke. “Idiot,” she said with a soft smile.

Arven just looked at her, confused.

“You haven’t changed, Arven,” she said. The hand she poked him with ended up cupping his cheek, looking into his red eyes with that sweet smile which would’ve made Arven’s heart jump when he was still human. It was a sound she missed now.

“Your body has, but you haven’t. I know you don’t think so but you’re still the same person you were before,” she continued.

Arven reached up, placing his hand over the one she had on his cheek. “You can’t know that, Serana. You don’t know what I did in that cave-“

“I know, Arven. Not the specifics, but I know better than anyone. And you fought it. You’re still fighting it,” she said, with surprising conviction behind her voice. Arven turned his eyes away, but as he did she placed her other hand on his free cheek forcing him to look at her again.

“You’re still the same person,” she reaffirmed. “I can tell.”

“Why do you have so much faith in me?” Arven asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Serana retorted. “You’re kind of incredible, you know.”

Arven shrugged. “Not really. Half the time I feel like I’m just struggling to keep up with whatever’s thrown at me. I’m just doing what anyone else would,” he said.

“Trust me, Arven. In my whole life, I don’t think I can recall one other person who could stand up to you, and the way you act. The person you try to be,” Serana said. And she meant it, as well. “I mean, I know the crowds I associate with aren’t the best people, but still,” she added with a coy grin.

It was a strange feeling, Arven thought. Realising that a woman who you wanted to kill moments after meeting her, a woman who you instinctively didn’t trust in the slightest had now become the most important person in your life. That, and now thinking that you didn’t deserve them.

He really did wonder why she went to these lengths for him. Sure, she needed his help to stop her father, but everything they’d gone through together had put their relationship well past the point of one that existed solely for mutual benefit.

“Serana, why did you save me?” Arven asked. As he did, Serana’s eyes widened ever so slightly. She obviously wasn’t expecting him to ask that, of all things.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She responded. “You say that like it was a hard choice I had to make. Or a choice at all.”

“Bringing someone back from the dead is a pretty big choice. Especially the way you did it,” Arven said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, giving me your blood. You said it yourself, it’s a huge, well… ‘gift’. Big enough that no one from your family ever did it, not until recently,” he explained.

“Arven, that was the absolute last thing on my mind,” Serana replied. “Turning you into a vampire was just a means to save you, any weight it carries was meaningless compared to that. If I could’ve, I would’ve given up my own power if that would’ve brought you back somehow.”

Arven didn’t reply, not straight away. He figured that giving the ‘gift’ wasn’t something Serana would’ve cared about too much. But giving up her own power? That seemed extreme. Especially after everything she went through to get it. The way she argued, justified the things she was put through to get that power came back to the front of Arven’s memory. Horrific torture that he could barely imagine.

And she’d give away the results of that just to save him?

“Serana, you went through hell to become a Vampire Lord,” Arven said, as if he was trying to make Serana realise what she was saying.

Instead, she just looked at him, nodding casually. “I did, your point?” She asked.

“You can’t just-“ he started before trailing off, unable to properly verbalise his thoughts.

But Serana understood. Walking up to him, she paused as she stood only a foot or so away, looking deep into his eyes.

“This power is mine to do with as I please, Arven. And if I could’ve used it to save you, without turning you? That would’ve been the easiest choice I’d ever make,” she said. “Remember when I told you, that it has to be worth it? Everything I went through?”

Arven looked her in the eye, nodding slowly.

“I still don’t know if it’s worth it, everything that happened. I tell myself that it is, but honestly I don’t know,” Serana said to him, a sad smile on her lips. “But, saving you? Bringing you back? That made it worth it. Even if it took my powers away, it still would’ve been worth it.”

Arven didn’t know what to say. It made him feel guilty, in a way. Before he’d been so nonchalant about accepting death, but hearing what Serana was willing to sacrifice for him shook him ever so slightly. And he didn’t understand why she’d go to such lengths. So, he circled back to his original question.

“So, why?” he asked.

Serana reached out, grabbing hold of Arven’s hands as she squeezed them softly.

“Are you going to make me say it again?” She asked, her lips still curled up into a half smile.

Arven didn’t understand what she meant, not at first. But it clicked soon after.

“I wasn’t sure if you actually did,” he said. “I barely remember it, except a few flashes of you crying, kneeling over me.” As he spoke the images of Serana looking down at him, her cheeks stained with tears, his blood on her lips in her mother’s laboratory filled his mind. He closed his eyes, pushing them back. It almost physically hurt to remember Serana grieving like that.

“I did. And I meant it,” Serana said. “Arven, I-“ she continued before being interrupted.

“Wait, please,” Arven interjected. “I… I need you to wait. I can’t answer you, not right now. Not when I’m like this,” he said. “If, when I turn back to normal, then I can. I’m sorry,” he said.

He felt his heart ache as he said it. He wanted to respond to Serana, but he couldn’t give her a clear answer. He was still confused. He still carried some lingering anger, a small sense of betrayal at being turned into a vampire even though he’d accepted it. But he couldn’t respond to a confession when he wasn’t alive. Even if choosing to do so made him feel like a coward.

He was expecting Serana’s expression to darken, or for her smile to fade. But it didn’t. Instead her smile grew wider.

“You know, I think I’d prefer that,” she said. “And don’t worry, I’ll wait for as long as it takes. If we’ve got anything on our side, it’s time, right?” Staring at him for a moment longer, Serana then rose up onto the tips of her toes and leaned in close. With a hand on Arven’s chin, she turned his face to the side and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Arven didn’t react, too shocked to do so, and essentially froze until Serana broke it off a few seconds later. All he could do was look at her, stunned by not only her words, and her actions, but just how in that moment she looked even more beautiful than she ever had. He didn’t even know such a thing was possible.

But, it was reassuring for him to know that his heart could still yearn for something so strongly, even when he was undead.

Turning away, Serana then started heading towards the door.

“Anyway, it’s about time we head out. Unless you just wanted to sleep for another day, which I’m more than happy to do,” she said as she looked over her shoulder, giving him a coy wink. It’d been a while since she teased him like that, and even if he didn’t feel the heat in his cheeks any longer he still felt that embarrassment. It was a rather pleasant feeling, really.

“And I hope you realise I’m going to be looking for that cure even harder now,” she added.

Yeah, Arven thought to himself. So am I.

Notes:

And I'm back, with chapter 20!

I feel like I say this a lot, but I do apologise for the wait. Unfortunately I came down with COVID over the holidays and I've been stuck with a lingering fatigue ever since, so I'm finding it harder to write. But, I'm getting better with every passing day so I've been able to finish this chapter off.

As always I hope you all enjoy reading it! And I hope you all had a good holiday period as well. And of course, a huge thank you to reading, and to everyone who leaves a review, or follows/favourites. Seeing those numbers go up is a small guilty pleasure of mine.

Chapter 21: The College

“You know,” Arven started, “Skyrim sort of… smells.”

“…What?” Serana asked, turning to look at him with a curious glance.

“It smells. There’s this smell that I thought was just a Whiterun thing, but it’s still there and it’s just… what is it?” Arven continued.

Serana just laughed at him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” she said, shaking her head as she failed to hide the grin now crossing her features.

“I’m serious,” Arven said. “It smells like wet dog, almost. I thought there was a mutt following us.”

“So that is the reason why you keep glancing behind us?” Serana asked, struggling to contain herself.

“Well, yeah,” Arven responded as if such a thing was obvious.

In response Serana just laughed again. She couldn’t help it, and it felt good to laugh again. Really, really good. After the two had left Whiterun there was a small level of awkwardness between them, both from adjusting to Arven’s new life, and due to the things they discussed earlier. But that didn’t last long, and after a while they’d started the same sort of banter that came so naturally to them.

The night passed quickly and before they knew it, just before the sun rose they arrived at the inn Arven had identified the night before, spending the day hiding in a room with the blinds closed. Neither of them were overly tired, so they didn’t need to sleep. Instead they talked about whatever came to mind, with Serana answering any further questions Arven had, along with her coaching him on certain things that a vampire ‘must be able to do’.

Such as illusion magic. Something Arven was rather terrible at. So, the coaching session didn’t last too long.

Once night had fallen again the pair set off towards Winterhold with the terrain and climate getting progressively colder as they went. The past 24 hours were almost therapeutic to Serana, given how distraught she’d been a few days before. It was almost starting to seem like a bad dream, but it was firmly cemented in reality each time she saw Arven’s eyes.

“Skyrim itself doesn’t smell,” Serana said. “Well, it does. But what you’re smelling is just a mixture of everything. Animals, plants, everything around you is blurring into one, and you don’t know how to single things out yet.”

Arven frowned slightly, sniffing to get another whiff of the scent. “This is going to drive me crazy,” he mumbled to himself.

“Give it a few more days and you won’t even notice it anymore,” Serana said.

“And everything is so loud!” Arven continued.

Serana had to supress another laugh. “Are you a child?” She asked, a smirk on her lips.

“No, I’m serious. I can hear so much, it’s ridiculous. My boots on gravel sound like I’m crushing branches with every step. During the day I had to suffer that bard’s off-tune music and some drunkard hitting on every woman in that place for hours,” Arven lamented.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad,” Serana said. “At least it didn’t work. Now that would’ve been torturous for you.”

Arven shuddered. “I really, really didn’t need that mental image,” he said.

Serana flashed him a sweet smile. She took a few steps closer to him, brushing her shoulder against his to gently shove him in a childish, playful manner. She felt foolish when she did it, but she simply couldn’t resist. She couldn’t shake the want, the need to be close to him. If she had it her way, she’d be walking with her hand in his, similar to back in the Soul Cairn. Back when she first started to accept how she really felt about him.

But of course, she had to give him some space. She wanted to support Arven, not smother him. And that want trumped all the others, regardless of how pressing or burning they may be.

Looking at him, Serana could tell what he was doing. Even though Arven was joking about it, she could see that behind that exterior he still felt the same way about being a vampire. The sensations he was experiencing could be communicated in a way like this, poking fun at them, using humour to deflect the real issue.

But she could tell that underneath that act, Arven still hated what he had become.

 “You know, considering how much people give for this, I would’ve thought there’d be more benefits,” Arven said in an almost teasing manner. Serana wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to keep up the act, but maybe it was a good thing? She was no expert, but perhaps cracking jokes was just a way for him to process it all.

“Being stronger than everyone else in Skyrim isn’t enough for you?” Serana asked.

“Nah,” Arven said. “Boring.”

Serana scoffed, a smile coming back to her lips. “You’re certainly no Nord, that’s for sure.”

“Now if I could fly, maybe? That’d be worth it,” Arven said.

“You can, you know,” Serana replied. “Just turn into a cloud of bats.”

Arven looked at her, shuddering. “Bats? Bats are gross, are you kidding?”

“No they’re not!” Serana argued with surprising vigor. “They’re cute.”

Arven stared at her, slightly shocked with just how strongly she expressed that opinion. His look made her shrink back slightly, as if embarrassed.

“What?” She asked, turning away.

“Really? Bats? That’s the hill you’ll die on?” Arven asked while smirking to himself.

Serana pouted, folding her arms over her chest. She looked absolutely adorable as she did so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with bats, I’ll have you know,” she said while purposely trying to contain her enthusiasm.

“Okay, if you’re going to try and get me on board with all this, you’ll need a better argument than ‘bats’.”

Serana continued pouting, not making eye contact as she looked ahead. But even as she did, she was trying to think of ways to win the argument. Arven merely waited, looking at her out the corner of his eyes, not bothering to hide the cocky grin he had as they walked together under the moonlight.

“Well,” Serana started, speaking up after a few moments of silence. “Besides the strength there are quite a few benefits to being a vampire.” As she spoke she ran a hand through her hair as it had gotten caught in her hood, shaking it out so it could flow behind her again. Even such a simple thing caught Arven’s attention effortlessly.

“You say that, but you haven’t mentioned any,” Arven said as he turned away.

“For starters, you’d be freezing right now as a regular person,” she retorted. And she was right. It was lightly snowing, and the clothes Arven had on weren’t exactly made for winter. As they got closer and closer to Winterhold, the weather was getting colder and colder.

A few hours ago Arven had almost slipped on an icy portion of road, which resulted in Serana’s laughter echoing throughout the forest.

“Hmm,” Arven grunted. “Sure, but that doesn’t even make up for not being able to go outside in the Sun. I’d take embracing sunlight over a blizzard any day.”

“Please, the Sun is overrated,” Serana said while rolling her eyes. “It’s just so bright. And hot. Besides, what do people do during the day? They work. All the fun stuff happens at night.”

“Ah yes, the lady living in a castle, speaking of the plight of the working man,” Arven commented.

Serana turned to him, scowling playfully as she shoved him to the side. “You’re a jerk,” she said.

“And yet you’re stuck with me,” Arven replied.

”Anyway,” Serana said to change the subject. She was trying to think of something good. Either that, or something she could use to mess with Arven. Recently he’d been coming out on top with most of their conversations. She didn’t know why, but it hit her rather suddenly.

She hadn’t been teasing him anywhere near as much. Given how their relationship was… complicated, at best, she didn’t want to put any pressure on him. But she really, really missed the way his cheeks would go flushed like a teenage boy at the slightest of innuendos.

“Okay, I’ve got a good one. We’re really good at holding our breath,” Serana commented.

“I… sure, okay. I’ll give you that one. But I’m not really planning on going diving anytime soon,” Arven said.

Serana looked him in the eye, her eyes taking on a different look as she seemed far more... sultry, in that moment. She hadn’t had much of a reason to appear that way as of late, but it was something she could turn on within a second. "Not what I had in mind, Arven," she then said, biting down on her lower lip as she wanted for the implication to sink in.

Arven paused, thinking, before his eyes went wide and he turned his attention to the road in front of him. A second later and he was walking much, much faster, pulling his hood over his face as he refused to respond to that.

A stupid, immense grin grew across Serana’s face. She tried not to laugh, but that didn’t last for more than a second.

“You’re horrible,” Arven called out behind him.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” Serana called out, jogging to catch up. But that only made Arven walk even faster.

“You know exactly what you did,” he said, still not looking back to her. Not because he was angry. No, his mind had just gone to places that he hadn’t thought of in quite some time. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy thinking about such things. But he was not ready for that right now.

“Seriously, what’s the issue?” Serana asked. “I just meant that you don’t get exhausted as easily when you’re fighting, since we don’t need as much air!”

“Oh come on, like I’d believe that,” Arven said as he finally turned to face her. Even though he was still a vampire, a small flush had come to his cheeks. That gave Serana an immense level of satisfaction.

“What do you mean?” She asked, trying her best to act oblivious despite the giddiness she felt.

“Fighting? You know full well that’s the last thing on your mind when you’re biting your lips like that.”

Serana thought for a moment, then feigned shock in a clearly over exaggerated manner. “Arven, really? You look at my lips – for whatever reason – and your mind goes there? You’re helpless.”

“Don’t you pin this back on me,” he said. “There’s no way in hell you had innocent intentions.”

“I did! I swear it,” Serana said, placing a hand on her chest.

Arven just narrowed his eyes, staring her down. Serana, somehow, didn’t break her character. And with a long, deep sigh, Arven shook his head.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Serana replied with a smile. “I won’t judge you too harshly.”

Arven groaned, turning back to the road to continue walking.

“So,” he started. “More endurance, huh?”

Serana nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. It’s pretty useful.”

“Honestly that never crossed my mind. I guess it makes a certain sort of sense, if you don’t get winded. I can see how that’d be useful.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Serana said as she stepped closer to him. With her arms behind her back, she looked up at him, pursing her lips. “Everyone talks about strength, but endurance is underrated. You know, I can just keep going. All. Night. Long.”

Arven’s eyes widened. His cheeks flushed.

Then he screamed.

For the next hour or so, the conversation dwindled. Not from lack of trying on Serana’s part, but Arven had picked up the pace and was deliberately not engaging her in any proper conversation. Serana almost felt bad, but she noticed that despite the man putting on an act of being embarrassed, there was a hint of a smile creeping up on the sides of his mouth.

Plus, she was happy to distract him from any other thoughts he might be having.

Despite the silence it didn’t feel awkward. If anything it felt comfortable. The two found a significant level of comfort from just being near the other, whether they consciously knew and accepted that fact or not. The journey itself was, surprisingly, uneventful.

Arven kept expecting to see someone. Or something. Normally, they would’ve run into at least a patrol by now. Although, being the middle of the night, that certainly explained the lack of activity on even the busier roads.

All was quiet until suddenly the sound of rain falling reached their ears. It started with only a few drops at first, but before long it had developed into a proper downpour. A second later and a flash of lightning filled the sky, along with thunder following only a few seconds later as it rattled the floor beneath them.

“Good thing we don’t get cold,” Arven remarked.

“See? Told you. Totally worth it,” Serana said with a smirk.

Arven turned his head, an unimpressed look on his face as he gave her a judging look.

In response she just gave him another smile, before raising her hand above her head. With ice flowing from her fingertips she froze the water coming down above her head, creating a make-shift umbrella out of the frozen water. But, it only covered her.

Arven looked at it, letting out a sigh. He tried to do something similar, raising a hand above his head to form a ward. But of course, with rain not being magical it had absolutely no effect.

“Of course not,” Arven muttered to himself. So, pulling on his hood to secure it in place he just continued walking.

“You know Arven, you could probably do this as well with a small amount of training. It comes easy to us,” Serana said.

“Maybe, but you’re forgetting just how awful I am at magic,” Arven said.

“Failing that,” Serana started as she gave him an inviting look. “There’s still room under here.” Motioning to the makeshift umbrella, there definitely was enough room for the both of them. But Arven knew that she could easily make it cover the entire road if she wanted.

“It’s only a bit of rain, right? And like you said. We don’t get cold,” Arven replied. “So I’m alright.”

Serana frowned. That frown then turned into an endearing pout as she turned away from him, enunciating a huff of disappointment at the same time.

Arven rolled his eyes at the display. It was hard to believe Serana was centuries old at times like this. But, he didn’t hate it when she acted like this. He actually found it incredibly charming, something which he’d never let her know.

I suppose there’s no harm in it, is there?

“Ah, damn,” Arven said. His voice was different. Forced. “My clothes are getting soaked.” It turned out that the imperial was a horrible actor, and every word he was saying was stiff and awkward. But it still got Serana’s attention.

“How unfortunate,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

Arven groaned.

You’re really going to make me ask, aren’t you?

“Hey, Serana,” he started. “Any chance I could stand under that thing with you?”

Within a fraction of a moment the demeanour on Serana’s face changed. She walked, no, skipped over to him until they were standing shoulder to shoulder. Immediately Arven no longer had rain falling on his head.

With Serana’s control of magic she barely even had to focus on maintaining the shield, leaving her with both hands free.

“Better?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Arven said. It was actually nice being dry, even though he wasn’t cold. The leather he wore wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world when it started to get soaked, as he was quickly finding out.

“Good,” Serana said with a beaming smile. “Then, no reason for this anymore right?” Reaching up she pulled Arven’s hood back, leaving his face bare. Arven looked at her, confused for a moment before he remembered the disappointment she’d shown whenever he had his helmet on.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He asked.

“You should know the answer to that by now,” she responded.

The two continued walking side by side until the ruins of Winterhold started to come into view. As soon as they did Serana stopped Arven, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to try it, or should I cover you this time?” She asked.

Arven cocked his head out of confusion before he understood. The night before in the inn, Serana had spent some time trying to teach Arven basic illusion magic. Purely for the purpose of hiding his eye colour, so he could walk out in public without people figuring out what he was. Unfortunately, despite his new condition which made all his existing magic more potent, learning new magic was still a struggle for him.

“Maybe you should,” Arven said. “I don’t think I trust myself to do it yet.”

Serana shrugged, then started walking off ahead of him. “Let’s go then, I’m actually curious get a good look at the college.”

“What, not going to torture me like you did last time you put an illusion on me?” Arven remarked.

“Oh I can if you want me to,” Serana said. “And please, that was light teasing. Torture would be much, much more drawn out.”

Arven chose to ignore that. The walk through the town itself was uneventful; Winterhold was hardly a bustling town. The only real point of interest was the college itself. As always, there was someone standing out the front of the walkway that lead to the college.

As the two approached, a Dunmer held out her hand. Despite the late, or very early hour, the college always seemed to have someone standing out the front to keep intruders from walking on in.

“Halt,” the woman called out, her palm held up to motion Arven and Serana to stop. “What business do you have at the College?”

“Brelyna?” Arven asked. “What’re you doing out here?”

The Dunmer’s eyes narrowed for a second before widening, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh! Arven, this is a surprise. And, uh… it’s a punishment of sorts, I suppose.”

“That’s worrying,” Arven commented. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing! I was just conducting some more harmless experiments and-“

“What did you do?” Arven pressed.

Brelyna sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I turned J’Zargo into a toad.”

Arven blinked. It’d been how long now, and she was still making these types of errors?

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Serana asked off to his side, failing to hide a smirk.

“It was an accident! And, who’re you exactly?” Brelyna asked.

“This is Serana, my,” Arven started before he cut off. He didn’t know how to finish that.

“Travelling companion,” Serana finished for him with a friendly smile.

“Anyway,” Arven steered the conversation back, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment at being just a travelling companion. “You did what, exactly?”

“Nothing! At least, nothing permanent,” The other woman replied. “I was trying to help him improve one of his spells.”

“And you turned him into a frog,” Arven said.

“Toad,” Brelyna said. “But yes.”

While Arven looked at the mage with a stunned expression, Serana had a hand to her mouth, failing to stop a snort of laughter from escaping.

“But more importantly,” the mage said, “what brings you here?”

“Oh, right. I’m just here to pick up something I left a while back,” Arven said.

“Your scroll, you mean?” Brelyna asked.

Arven frowned slightly. “How do you know-“

“It’s a college full of mages, we were all going to figure it out eventually,” Brelyna explained. “But don’t worry, Urag hasn’t let a single soul touch it. Despite half the staff wanting to conduct experiments on it.”

Arven let out a soft sigh of relief. “That’s… good, then.”

“But don’t let me keep you. Go get your scroll, and don’t tell J’Zargo you know what happened! He’ll kill me,” the woman pleaded.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Arven said as he passed her, walking towards the college on the bridge. As soon as they were both out of earshot Serana leaned up close to Arven, no longer trying to hide the amusement on her face.

“I don’t know if I’m impressed or shocked,” Serana said. “I don’t think I could turn someone into a toad even if I wanted to.”

“Please don’t start trying,” Arven said.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do that to you,” Serana said. “Although I’m fairly sure I read a story sometime. Something about a princess kissing a frog to turn them back into a human?”

Arven had a puzzled look on his face. “What kind of weird story is that?” He asked.

“You never read it?”

“I didn’t read much as a kid, so no. But even if I did I can’t imagine ever reading a story where the premise involved kissing a toad,” he said.

“It was actually sort of cute. One of those ‘true love’ stories.”

“First bats, now toads, huh?”

Serana frowned at being teased. She went to shove him, but decided against it as they were walking on a rather narrow bridge.

“Jerk,” she said.

Arven let out a small scoff of satisfaction. Whenever Serana ran out of smart comments to make and resorted to calling him a jerk, idiot or some other word, he always felt like he won somehow.

“So, what business did you use to have with the College?” Serana asked as they continued crossing the bridge.

“Doesn’t really seem like my sort of place, does it?” Arven commented.

“Not quite. You aren’t exactly the studious type,” Serana replied.

Arven let out a small scoff of laughter. “I can’t argue that. They needed help a while back. Something to do with an artefact protected by draugr. Basically a lot of dungeon delving.” As he remembered it all, a small shiver went down his spine.

Serana noticed, looking at him with a hint of concern. “Dragons?” She asked.

“Sort of. There was an undead dragon, and a Dragon Priest.”

“A… priest?”

“Oh, right,” Arven started. He’d forgotten that Dragon Priests were still a myth to most, if not simply being unheard of. “When the dragons were alive, they had a cult following. The leaders of these cults worshipped the dragons, and got granted power in return for their service.”

“They were able to shout, like you can?” Serana asked.

“No, thankfully. Just powerful magic. But they were undead, and well,” Arven started before motioning to the wrapped up blade on Serana’s waist. “I used to be pretty good at dealing with dead things.”

“You still are,” Serana said softly. “You just don’t have to blind me while you fight them anymore,” she remarked with a grin.

“I’m not so sure,” Arven responded. “I still haven’t learnt how to deal with you, after all.”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’d be more than happy to show you exactly how to deal with me, if you’d like,” Serana said, locking eyes with Arven until he had to pull away with flushed cheeks.

“You’ve gotten worse recently. With the teasing,” Arven remarked as he made sure not to continue eye contact.

“Is it teasing?” Serana asked. “It’s a serious offer, Arven.”

“I was about to say you’re going to be the death of me, but I suppose you already were, weren’t you?” Arven quipped.

Serana couldn’t respond to that, her eyes widening. Arven couldn’t tell if she looked shocked, angry, or upset.

“Ah, sorry,” he said. “Too soon?”

After a moment, Serana was able to respond. “No, I just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I, honestly. It just sort of came to me.”

“I never really picked you for the type to joke about things like that,” Serana said seriously before her voice took on a more joking manner. “You’re always so grouchy, after all.”

Arven smirked. “I guess, recently I’ve just thought that there’s no point dwelling on it too much, right? I mean, I’m not just going to be magically okay with everything overnight, but… if I can at least try to laugh about it, why not?”

Serana looked at him, giving him a wide smile. She knew that it’d still be hurting him inside. But the fact that he was even able to think of doing something like this? The man she’d met back in Dimhollow would’ve never joked about this, or even about being Dragonborn.

Before Serana could reply the two finished crossing the bridge, walking out into a more open area. They stood in a circular area, a stone path running around the edge and through the centre, with a statue of a mage drawing the attention of anyone who entered the college. It was surprisingly quiet.

“No one must be awake yet,” Arven said. “That’s good.”

“Not feeling social?” Serana asked.

“I don’t think I ever am,” Arven said. “But not really. Mages can be… interesting people at the best of times.”

“They can’t be any worse than your Dawnguard friends,” Serana replied.

Arven let out a brief laugh. “I think that group is a different type of weird. But equal in their… intensity, yeah.”

Taking advantage of the quiet the two walked forward, crossing the open courtyard until Arven held out both hands to push open the doors leading inside of the college.

“Will your librarian be awake?” Serana asked.

“If anyone is, he is,” Arven said as he walked through, the doors slowly closing behind the pair. “I can never remember how to navigate this place. Too many stairs…”

Serana, looking around with obvious curiosity, walked over to a nearby wall. There, she pointed to a sign that gave rather simple, clear directions.

“You’d think the mages would at least teach you how to read, since you helped them out,” Serana mentioned.

“I swear that wasn’t there before,” Arven said, staring at the sign. It even gave directions straight to the library. It was rather convenient, and he wished that it existed last time he was there.

“Whatever you say,” Serana said as she lead the way, starting to climb the stairs. “Hey, how old is this place?”

“Not sure, but it was around in the second Era,” Arven said.

“Hmm, I’m surprised you know that.”

“It wasn’t something I looked up intentionally. Someone informed me, I suppose,” Arven said. “Oh, when we get to the library, don’t touch anything.”

“You know that just makes me want to touch things even more,” Serana responded.

Arven rolled his eyes. “The librarian is very… strict.”

“Please, I’m sure I can win over a librarian,” Serana scoffed.

After climbing up several more flights of stairs, the pair emerged into the College library. Hundreds upon hundreds of books were stacked along the walls, all leading up to the ceiling. Desks littered the place, nooks and crannies present everywhere for people to study in peace, or together if they so desired.

Not only that, but the library was in impeccable condition. Any other library would have books about the place, dust on the shelves. But this library seemed as if it was brand new.

“Oh, wow. This is bigger than I expected. And so clean,” Serana said.

“Like I said, strict librarian,” Arven said as he went off in search of something, heading towards a desk in the centre of the room. Serana on the other hand wandered off, walking down isles of books, her hand tracing along the spines of any book which caught her attention. This was a place she could spend days, if not months in, just reading to her heart’s content.

One book in particular caught her attention. She reached out, fingers grasping the spine, but before she could pull it free a voice interrupted her.

“And who might you be? Do you normally walk into places uninvited, ruffling through things that don’t belong to you?” Said a voice off to Serana’s side. She turned, and saw a rather stern orc standing in robes. He had several books in his arms, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. He was staring her down.

“It’s a library,” Serana retorted. “The whole purpose is to-“

“It’s my library,” the orc cut in. “And my library is only for students of the college to use. You, unless the school has started taking in applicants in the dead of night, are no student.”

“Wow, you are strict,” Serana muttered. “I’m just browsing, surely it can’t hurt to just have a look?”

“No,” the orc replied.

Serana frowned. The desire to simply charm him, win him over effortlessly with magic floated through her heart. But she denied it almost instantly. She denied it so quickly that she shocked herself just a little bit.

“Just what is a vampire doing here, anyway? I’m not sure what knowledge you…” the orc slowly trailed off as he spoke. It seemed only then that he noticed the scrolls on Serana’s back. She had covered them up with illusion magic, but it seemed that such magic wasn’t strong enough to hide the scrolls, and her vampirism, from certain mages.

Before she could respond, Arven ducked his head around the corner, giving Serana a deadpanned look. “Serana, no touching,” he said, seeing her fingers still on the spine of a book.

Serana pouted, folding her arms across her chest. Hearing another voice, the orc turned about, his posture relaxing slightly as he saw Arven.

“Oh, it’s you,” the orc said. “Hmm. Got tired of being a mortal? Dragonborn not enough for you?”

Arven cringed at the sheer bluntness of the orc, but he did a good job of trying to hide it. “You’re as straight forward as ever, Urag. And no, this wasn’t intentional,” he said.

Urag narrowed his eyes at Arven, turning back to Serana to stare at her for a moment. Not so much glaring at her, more studying. Then, he simply grunted.

“Well, no concern of mine,” the orc said. “Why have you come back? I wasn’t aware of any trouble the college needed help with.”

“No, no trouble. I’m not here to help, I just want to pick up something I left here,” Arven said.

Urag looked slightly confused for a moment, but his expression grew more stern in an instant.

“No,” the Orc said, before turning his back and walking off, restocking some of the shelves.

Arven was left standing there, slightly stunned. He blinked a few times, before shaking his head and following Urag. Serana was simply watching with a small level of amusement.

“I’m sorry, ‘no’?” Arven asked.

“Yes. No,” the orc said once again.

“I’m not asking, Urag. I’ve come to pick up my scroll,” Arven retorted.

“And do what with it? Do you even know how important, how special those scrolls are? Scrolls which you carry around on your back as if they were no more important than a sword-sheath?” Urag said.

Serana leaned forward, whispering in Arven’s ear just loud enough so that all three of them would hear. “Do you think he’d be angry if I told him I’ve used these as a shield?”

Urag didn’t respond, but a small vein of anger throbbed on his forehead.

“I’m well aware,” Arven said. “I’m back because I need to read them.”

Urag let out a brief, loud laugh that echoed throughout the room. “Read them? You’re no scholar, but you’re not dumb enough to truly think you can read the Scrolls, surely.”

“I’m not. I’ve got a moth priest to do that for me,” Arven said.

Urag studied Arven for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Just what are you trying to do?”

“Nothing that you need to worry about. But I do need them, and I am going to take back my scroll,” Arven said. “Only temporarily,” he added, trying to soften the blow.

Urag let out a long, deep sigh. He continued to study Arven for a moment, thoughts no doubt mulling over in his head. “And after you’re done, what will you do with the Scrolls?” He asked.

“Bring them back,” Arven said. “All three.”

“You want me to have three of them? Here? In one place? Do you understand how dangerous that is?”

Serana, who had turned around and was scanning the bookshelves behind Arven, whispered quietly enough so that only Arven could hear this time. “Is this guy ever happy? First he wants the scrolls, now he doesn’t?”

“I understand, Urag. Could you suggest a safer place for them?” Arven retorted.

The orc paused, thinking a moment longer. “No, I cannot,” he said. “Fine. Wait here, I’ll get the Scroll,” he said before turning away. A second later and he stopped, turning around. “No touching anything,” he said pointedly to Serana before walking off properly this time.

“It’s a library!” Serana said to Arven. “I’m not allowed to look at books in a library?”

“It’s not ‘a’ library, it’s ‘his’ library. Like I said. Strict,” Arven said.

“Is everyone here this eccentric?”

“Yeah. In different ways.”

“And here I thought vampires were a secluded bunch of weirdos,” Serana said as she continued browsing. She ran her finger over the shelves, not the books, but skirting her finger ever so close in the same manner that a child would test their parents.

“We might have to stay the night here,” Arven said. “The Sun will be up soon.”

“It might not be too bad for you, given the cloud cover,” Serana said. “But it’s probably a smart idea. Do they have accommodation?”

“Yeah, this college used to have far more students. There’s plenty of spare rooms, I’ve used them before,” Arven responded.

Serana frowned ever so slightly, but didn’t make any further comment.

When Urag came back a minute or so later he carried the Scroll in a way that implied it was incredibly delicate, that the slightest touch could break it. Not like it was a Scroll that could block the claws of a Vampire Lord.

“Here,” Urag said bluntly, offering it to Arven.

“This one’s yours, I’m running out of room,” Serana said. She was a rather interesting sight. A slender woman carrying a Daedric sword on her hip and two Elder Scrolls on her back. Arven had to pause for a moment to realise the sheer absurdity of it before he took the scroll being offered to him. He placed it where his shield used to go, and the weight felt familiar. Comfortable.

“I’m surprised. I never would have thought you’d lose that armour of yours,” Urag said as he looked over Arven, now equipped with the Scroll.

“I’m just as surprised, trust me. This is temporary, though,” he replied.

“What happened to those gauntlets?” Urag asked, no doubt referring to the enchanted pair Arven got from the college.

“Shattered,” Arven responded.

“Shattered? I – actually, nevermind. I don’t want to know what trouble you’re involved in. Don’t tell Sergius though. He was proud of those gauntlets, although I suppose you wouldn’t need the help anymore all things considered,” Urag said.

Arven was momentarily confused, but Urag was right. Magic was much easier for him now, and Urag was able to see right through his illusion.

Tugging on the strap keeping the Elder Scroll to his back, Arven nodded his thanks to Urag. “We’ll get out of your hair now,” he said. “Thank you for keeping this safe.”

“Don’t break it,” Urag said. Even though he knew the things were indestructible, it didn’t stop him from being overprotective of it.

With a small smile on the corner of his lips, Arven and Serana turned to leave the library. They made it back down to the ground floor before they bumped into anyone else. Thankfully it wasn’t someone disagreeable, but rather the Arch-Mage of the college.

“Arven, my boy! Now this is a surprise indeed,” Tolfdir said with a raised hand. “What could possibly bring you back here?” The elderly man asked, although he no doubt had figured it out already.

“Just picking up some things,” Arven said. “How’ve you been, Tolfdir?”

“Well I certainly can’t complain. A fair bit more quiet than the last time I saw you, but I suppose that’s a good thing!” Tolfdir responded. “And who might this be?” He asked, turning to Serana.

She bowed her head ever so slightly. “Serana. I’m a friend of Arven. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arch-Mage,” she said.

“Please, Tolfdir is fine,” he said. “You’re not a student, so there’s no need for formalities. And even if you were a member of the college, you seem far more likely to be in my position than that of any student.”

Serana’s eyes widened just a fraction, surprised at how keenly Tolfdir seemed to be able to gauge her talents. It was fitting of course, for an Arch-Mage. But Serana had met enough inept mages in her lifetime to be sceptical.

“And how about you, my boy? Still working on those wards?” Tolfdir asked.

Serana turned to Arven with a cocky, smug grin as soon as the topic was brought up.

With a small scoff of laughter, Arven responded. “I have been, actually. Gotten much better,” Arven said. He held out a hand, palm facing up before he summoned a small ward that hovered a few inches above his hand. It was small, but enough to demonstrate his capabilities in the magic now.

Tolfdir’s eyes widened. “My, now that is quite the improvement!” It was hard to tell if his shock was genuine or not. Arven’s magical abilities were better primarily due to vampirism, and such a thing wouldn’t be hidden from the Arch-Mage.

Perhaps he’s merely expecting the abilities of a regular vampire? Arven thought to himself.

“I’ve been forcing him to practise,” Serana said with smug satisfaction. “He was terrible at them a while ago,” she said, emphasising the point.

“How lucky I am, to have such a kind teacher,” Arven replied in a flat voice.

Tolfdir let out a small chuckle at the two of them. “So, are you staying for long?” He asked. “I could use a hand in teaching, as always.”

Arven raised his hands, shaking them. “Ah, no. I don’t think I’m the best instructor.”

“I think you’d do better than you give yourself credit for. But I was mainly referring to the lady,” Tolfdir said.

Arven felt rather stupid, which was only amplified by the look Serana gave him. He rolled his eyes, trying not to make eye contact as she stared at him with that insufferable grin, before she turned to address the question.

“I’m rather flattered, although I’ll admit I have no experience in teaching,” Serana said.

“Most people have more than they expect, primarily through experiences of a good teacher they themselves have had,” Tolfdir retorted in a kind manner.

“Almost all self-taught, with a few exceptions,” Serana said.

Tolfdir’s eyes widened slightly. “My, now that is a surprise. Not many could claim your level of expertise at all, let alone without the help of others.”

“What can I say? Having hundreds of years to practise certainly helps,” Serana said. Arven was slightly shocked at how blunt she was about her lifespan, although there really wasn’t a point in trying to hide such things from Tolfdir.

He was equally surprised at how carefree Tolfdir seemed to be. He’d brought a vampire into the college. An exceptionally powerful one at that, yet the Arch-Mage didn’t seem to be the slightest bit worried. Was he that confident of his own skills over Serana? Or was he just trusting that as Arven’s guest, she wouldn’t cause any trouble?

“Having the time to study is certainly an advantage which not all experience, sadly. But more importantly, I’d take it that you two would need a room to stay during the day?” Tolfdir asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“You’re being rather… casual, about this,” Arven said. He couldn’t resist the urge to bring up the subject any longer. He knew the college wasn’t judgemental. They even allowed for the study of necromancy. But he’d never heard of any sort of guild that would be so nonchalant about a vampire walking about, with the exception of the Dark Brotherhood.

In response Tolfdir shrugged, hands held behind his back.

“I see no reason to kick up a fuss. You seem the same person you were back when you dragged members of this college out from those ruins, somehow alive and in one piece,” he said with a kind smile. “A simple change in… physiology, doesn’t change the soul of the man within.”

Arven opened his mouth to respond but he stopped himself. He found that he was getting ready to argue the point, but it seemed pointless. And kind of stupid. His instinct was to argue against his own good nature, and that made him stop and reflect for a moment.

As he stood there without speaking, Serana spoke in his stead. “If you have available accommodation, we’d be greatly appreciative,” she said.

“Of course,” Tolfdir responded. “There are several spare rooms in the accommodation for staff members, please help yourself to any rooms. You should find them far more comfortable than the student’s dormitories.”

With a gentle bow of his head, Tolfdir then turned off to the side. “Now if you’ll please excuse me, being Arch-Mage doesn’t leave one much time for idle chatter, as much as I may enjoy it.”

“Sorry, don’t let us keep you any longer. And thank you,” Arven said before the elderly man took his leave.

“Well that’s kind of him. The last time I was here they just kicked me to the student’s rooms,” Arven said.

“Must’ve made a good impression,” Serana replied.

“Nah, I just think Tolfdir is far nicer than the previous Arch-Mage. Nothing against him, but he wasn’t quite as friendly.”

“Well is there anything else you wanted to do before we take a rest? The Sun is starting to rise.”

“Yeah, I can feel it. Even inside, it’s… strange,” Arven said. “But yeah there is one other thing I wanted to check quickly. You can go find us some rooms though, if you want. I won’t be too long.”

So Serana did just that. Exiting the main building she stepped out into the courtyard, pulling her hood up as she did so. The Sun was just starting to break over the mountains, and the college was stirring to life. Staff had emerged from their quarters and were making their way to the main hall, or making idle chatter with each other.

A few students had also woken, although they seemed far more tired. One of them was performing a quick handover with Brelyna, who looked as if she was ready to fall asleep on her feet.

Serana made her way over to one of the dormitories where the staff were exiting from. She got a few idle glances, and a few greetings, but no one attempted to start a proper conversation. They all seemed used to visitors, which was strange considering how remote the location was.

Or perhaps it was just too early for them to care?

Walking around the dormitories she passed the rooms that were permanently occupied, climbing to another level where there were a handful of rooms that were all vacant, doors open. Each one wasn’t especially big, but it was roomier than any inn. A large bed, bookshelves, a desk. Room to stretch out.

But most importantly, there was only one bed.

That gave Serana an idea, but it was an idea that was ruined by the ample other available rooms. So, she decided to remedy that. Walking around the spare dormitories that were thankfully empty of other people, Serana started closing all the doors one by one. Then, reversing a rather handy alteration spell, she locked them. She did this door by door until there was just the one free room left.

She was rather happy with herself after doing that. Almost like she’d thought of something rather ingenious.

Afterwards she simply waited in the room for Arven to return, picking up a book from a shelf and idly reading it on the bed. She kicked her boots off before sitting down, her Elder Scroll and Dawnbreaker resting near a chair in the corner. The book she’d chosen was one that went through alchemical concoctions. She was so out of date that it was interesting to see the new things that people had came up with over the past few centuries or so.

It was a good way to pass the time until Arven came back. When he did, it had been at least a couple of hours and the Sun had well and truly risen. When he arrived he had his hood up, pulled far over his head so Serana could barely see his face before he pulled it back.

He looked around the room, seeing how Serana had clearly gotten rather comfortable.

“Looks like you’ve settled in nicely,” he said as he undid the strap over his chest, slowly lowering the Elder Scrolls to the ground near where Serana’s was sitting.

“I have, thankfully there was at least one room left,” Serana said.

“What?” Arven asked, raising a brow. “What do you mean, this place has twice as many rooms as it does staff members.”

“Go check for yourself, every single one is locked except this one,” Serana replied, trying her best to hide the smile creeping at the sides of her face.

So he did. Arven stepped out, then went around checking the doors. Every single one. Each one gave him the same result, a door that was firmly locked. He came back a couple of minutes later, looking horribly confused.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

“Maybe they’re closed for cleaning?” Serana asked.

“Cleaning? Really?” Arven asked, looking at Serana as if trying to study her.

“Hey, I don’t know. Just throwing out ideas. But it’s fine, right?” Serana asked. She was still sitting on the bed, cross legged.

Arven looked to her, painfully noticing that there was only the one bed. It seemed a stupid thing to worry about, given how they’d shared rooms together before. But still, it wasn’t something that he’d just do without giving it any thought.

“Are you okay with this? I can go sleep in the student dormitories,” Arven offered.

Serana mentally cursed to herself. She didn’t think about that.

“Isn’t it bright outside now?” Serana asked.

“The student dorms are a minute walk away,” Arven asked. But he did seem rather tired, letting out a soft sigh as he did so.

“You know I don’t mind Arven. You can go there if you want, but it couldn’t hurt to just sit down for a bit,” Serana said, pulling her feet closer to herself to make more room on the bed.

Arven looked between the bed and the door for a moment, thinking to himself. After a small moment of deliberation he moved to the door, and Serana felt her heart sink ever so slightly. But he just closed the door, locking the latch before he walked over to the bed and collapsed onto it.

He relaxed, and Serana could see the fatigue sinking into his face over a matter of seconds as he seemed to drop a façade.

“You okay, Arven?” She asked, shuffling closer to him.

“I’m just tired,” he responded. “And… well, hungry.”

Serana moved until she was sitting right above him. She picked up his head before crossing her legs, placing his head into her lap before she started running her fingers through his hair to massage his scalp. Arven closed his eyes, tension quickly leaving his body.

“This entire time, the smell was just… there’s so many people here. I could smell it coming from every single person moving around. It’s so strong I feel like I could close my eyes and track someone down just from their scent alone,” he said. Even as he tried to relax it was impossible to fully dull down his senses. Serana helped immensely, but there wasn’t just a switch he could flick when he was hungry.

“It’s been a couple of days since you’ve fed. Do you want some more?” Serana asked.

Arven paused for a moment before responding, hesitating to give the answer.

“Yeah, I think I need it,” he said.

“Would you like my help again?”

Arven opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Is that okay? I want to try it myself, but if I get carried away…”

She gave him a gentle smile, still continuing to massage his scalp. “Of course it is, Arven.”

Arven exhaled, turning his eyes from Serana’s to the ceiling. Noticing something, he forced a smile to his lips.

“I think I’m coming around to what you said earlier. About the cold,” he said.

“Oh? Finally ready to admit that I’m always right?” Serana smirked.

“Ah, no. Definitely not,” Arven as he rolled his eyes. “But these dorms are normally freezing. You’d think a bunch of mages would know how to keep the cold out, but last time I was here I almost froze,” he explained as he raised a hand, removing a leather glove to look at his pale skin. “Can’t feel a thing right now though.”

Serana didn’t respond, she just kept on massaging his head, doting on him. At least, for a little while longer until she noticed that Arven almost seemed to be nodding off.

“Weren’t you about to get up?” She asked.

“Shh, this is comfortable,” Arven responded.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it at least.”

Arven grumbled in response initially, before he softly spoke. “Thank you, Serana.”

“Oh, I’m not doing this for free,” Serana responded. “You’re giving me a massage later. This sort of pampering comes at a price, you know.”

Arven opened his eyes again, looking at Serana with a very unimpressed glance. Letting out a reluctant groan he sat up, moving his legs off the side of the bed to stand up. Serana couldn’t help but let out a short snort of a laugh, although feeling the weight leave her lap almost made her wish she didn’t say anything.

Moving over to his pack, Arven pulled out a vial of blood. It was roughly half full, and after Arven popped open the cork the scent of blood rushed through his veins. It felt like fire shooting through his nerves, but in a good way. It woke him up instantly. He hadn’t felt anything like it before, and he could only compare it to stories he’d heard of skooma addicts.

Holding the glass in his hand he looked at his shaking hand, grabbing his wrist with his free hand to try and steady it. Behind him Serana had stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting him know she was there to help if he needed it.

As he brought the glass to his lips and tasted the blood again for the first time, his eyes shot wide open. That taste instantly took priority over everything else in his life, and he needed more of it. His instinct was to down the whole bottle in one go. He was prepared for this though, and as soon as he felt that urge rising up he tried his best to pull his hand away before the urge got too strong.

He did, but in his attempt to do so he ended up tearing the bottle away from his mouth, almost dropping it as drops of blood ended up flicking from the lip of the glass and landing across the wall.

“Ah, shit,” he softly said to himself.

“You okay, Arven?” Serana asked, looking at him with a concerned gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” he said.

Waiting for a moment to make sure he hadn’t lost control Serana then went to instantly clean up every last drop of blood he’d spilt. She made sure there was nothing left over. Not a single drop that could fill the room with the scent of blood. Thankfully, none of it got on any linen or anything that’d be hard to clean.

“That was a bit of a waste,” Arven said to himself as he brought the bottle to his lips again. He opened his mouth and slowly started to drink it. It poured down his throat, and he could feel the strength coming from it. It was almost as if the second it hit his stomach it dispersed throughout his entire body. It didn’t leave him feeling warm, it was something new. But ‘warm’ was the closest thing he could think of.

It was easy to get lost in that sensation. As he was drinking Arven barely noticed that he’d drunk most of the remaining liquid, with only a mouthful or so remaining. Trying once more he wrestled the bottle away from his lips. His hand was shaky, and it was anything but a smooth motion, but considering how much was left he thankfully didn’t spill anymore.

He held it out to Serana. “Take it. Now, please,” he urged as he sat back down on the bed. She did so, immediately taking the bottle and placing the cork on it. A second later and she was sitting next to him, a hand on his shoulder as she gave him an encouraging squeeze.

“One day I’ll learn to stop being surprised by you, Arven,” she said.

He looked up to her, his pupils dilated, the sanguine colour seeming to surge and shift in his iris. He breathed out a barely audible ‘what’, his thoughts mostly focused on trying to control himself.

“Third time feeding and you’re that composed?” She asked. “I’ve never seen someone get a hold of it that quickly.”

“You call that composed?” Arven scoffed.

“Yeah,” Serana said. “I do.” She then reached out, placing her hand on his cheek to turn his face towards her. “Really, Arven. You’re doing well.”

Arven grunted in response. It wasn’t something he knew how to respond to. After a moment of eye contact he looked back at the bottle, staring at the remaining red liquid. His hunger had died down considerably, but the blood was still appetising.

“Do you want it?” He asked. “You haven’t drunk in a while, right?”

“Huh?” Serana seemed almost shocked at the offer. “No, no. I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Seriously, you must be getting hungry by now. You did have a pretty full on fight,” Arven prompted.

“…Yeah, but I know how to handle it. That blood is for you, remember?” She said.

“If it’s mine, then I can give it to whoever I want,” Arven rebuffed. “Please, finish it. I’ll be thinking about it all night if I know there’s just a small amount left.

Serana argued with herself internally for a moment, but she quickly caved. She was hungry. Very hungry. But that wasn’t important right now, so she didn’t want to bring it up. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t accept, though.

Within a few seconds she stood up, grabbed the bottle and downed the remaining contents. After she did, placing the empty glass down on the table, she seemed almost… unsatisfied. Disappointed.

“What’s wrong? Do you need more?” Arven asked.

“No, it’s not that,” Serana said, wiping her lips with one of her thumbs.

“What’s wrong?” Arven pushed.

Serana looked to him, giving him a quick smirk. “I think I was getting spoilt before. You taste much better,” she said.

Arven let out a small groan. “You never miss a chance to tease me, do you?”

“Who says I’m just teasing?” Serana asked. “It’s true.”

“Like I’m going to believe that,” Arven replied. He was looking at one of his hands, watching the shaking that came as his body fed off of the blood he’d ingested. The taste still lingered and he wanted more, but at least he could control it.

Serana sat back down right next to him, watching him. She needed something to distract him with, so he didn’t sit there focusing on his vampirism for too long.

“Oh, I forgot,” she started. “What did you have to do in the college?”

Arven looked to her, confused for a moment before his eyes opened wide as he remembered.

“Oh, right!” He said. Sitting up slightly further onto the mattress he turned to Serana quickly. “Lift your shirt up for me.”

Serana just blinked at him, feeling a blush coming to her face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Lift up your – no, not like that,” Arven sighed as he realised what he’d said. “Show me your stab wound. I want to see how it’s healed.”

Serana looked at him, giving him the sort of glare that implied distrust. She did fully trust his intensions, but it was more fun to play around with him for a little bit. But she did do as he asked, taking off her overcoat and lifting her shirt up to just below her bust. She showed Arven the wound that was caused by Garan stabbing her with the dagger.

The make-shift ‘stitching’ Arven had done was holding, thankfully.

“How is it?” Arven asked.

“It’s fine, but it hurts if I twist a certain way. It’ll be better in a few days,” Serana responded.

Arven shook his head slightly, before he held out a hand. He placed a palm over the wound, concentrating.

“What are you doing?” Serana asked, but she quickly realised. She felt a strange sensation coming from Arven’s hand. She looked down and saw a dull golden glow. It was similar to the glow that came whenever he used restoration magic, but it seemed more… lifeless?

The sensation spread throughout her wound and she could feel the sliced muscle and tendons knitting themselves back together from the inside. It was a slow process, and Arven was concentrating intently, even to the point of a few beads of sweat forming on his brow. But after a minute or so he pulled his hand away and took in a deep breath.

“How’s that?” Arven asked.

“Did you just… heal me?” Serana asked.

“Yeah. I went and found the restoration teacher here at the College. She’s… quirky, to put it mildly. But she’s an excellent restoration mage. I asked her about the possibilities of healing undead, and well,” he said, trailing off as he gestured to Serana’s now non-existent wound.

Serana twisted her body about, raising her arms high above her head and lowering them, trying to get the pain to return. But it didn’t.

“Wow, I’m… I’m shocked. Did you go ask her for me?” She asked, running her fingers over the location where the wound was.

“Well, yeah?” Arven replied as if it was common sense. For the next minute or so he launched into a rant of sorts. He explained what the mage had told him. About how restoration wasn’t simply for healing people, how it was a magic for controlling the balance of life and death. He said that most people only focused on the one kind of restoration magic, understandably. But if a mage knew how to twist it, he could reverse that energy. Make it harmful to living people, but beneficial to undead.

Serana was hardly listening, though. She was just looking at him, enjoying how full her heart felt in that moment. She felt cared for, and that was rare for a vampire. Cutting off Arven’s rant mid-way she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

Arven paused, breaking off whatever he was saying.

“Uh, Serana?”

“Thank you, Arven,” she said, squeezing him tight.

“…You’re very welcome,” he said as he hugged her back.

She squeezed him tightly, holding on for as long as she felt she could, all while fighting the urge to simply push him down on the bed. But as she pulled away, giving him a gentle smile that she hadn’t given to anyone else before, she didn’t mind that she had to wait for him. Despite some urges she may have, Arven’s actions and words were somehow managing to make her feel… complete. And after knowing such a wonderful, peaceful feeling, there was no way she could ever complain about the pace with which things were progressing.

Arven didn’t know what to say to fill the silence, but it was a comfortable silence while it lasted.

“Do you need to sleep?” Serana asked, only just realising the look of tiredness that was resting on Arven’s face. “It’s been a couple of days now. “

“No, I don’t think so. Lying down would be nice, but I don’t feel like I need to sleep just yet,” Arven said.

He heaved himself up onto the bed properly, lying down with his head on a pillow. He took off his other glove, tossing it over to a chair in the corner before kicking off his boots and letting them simply fall off the bed. While he was doing that Serana had picked up the book she was reading before, lying next to Arven, sitting up with her back against the headboard of the bed as she idly flicked through the pages.

“You sure you don’t want me to go find another room? I can go check the students-“ Arven offered, before being cut off.

“Nope. It’s too bright outside now, you’ll burn,” Serana said without looking up from her book. She didn’t mention that it was overcast today, and Arven would likely survive in the shade without any issues.

Letting out a grumble as a response Arven tried his best to relax, closing his eyes with his arms folded across his stomach.

“Alright, alright. You win,” Arven sighed as he laid there, doing his best to relax. Despite his efforts though, he found it hard to clear his mind. There was a reason he’d been gone for quite a while before returning to their room. He had gone to learn the new form of restoration magic, but that came to him surprisingly quickly. Considering his skill in restoration, and how his body was running on the energy undeath, rather than life, he was able to pick up the new spell far quicker than most. Even though he was normally horridly slow at these things.

What he hadn’t told Serana though, was that he had gone back to the library. He started combing through every book he could find on vampirism. Skimming through page after page, trying to find anything that hinted to a cure. He found plenty of things he already knew. How vampirism can be contracted, the disease that passed from person to person. How someone needed to cure themselves of the disease before vampirism set in.

He tried to find any mentions of Vampire Lords, but there was nothing. Nothing about the new form, and nothing about removing vampirism once it had fully set in.

He ended up asking Urag, the librarian if he had heard of anything but the librarian simply shook his head. There were rumours about curing the disease. Using conjuration magic, brokering deals with other Daedric Princes, or complex alchemical concoctions. But they were simply rumours. Nothing at all concrete.

The news only got worse when he told Urag about being a Vampire Lord. While curing vampirism regularly seemed like an incredibly difficult task on its own, according to the librarian that task would be nigh impossible as a Vampire Lord. Even with no knowledge of the form itself, Urag had said that any magic or curse that came directly from a Daedric Prince was something that no mortal could truly hope to defeat.

”If what you say is true, and you’re carrying a curse handed down from Molag Bal himself, do you really think simple tricks and incantations will be enough to go against his will?”

Urag’s words stuck in his head. It formed a pit in Arven’s stomach, filling him with worry that threatened to permeate throughout his entire body.

But more than that, it made him determined. So what if he was cursed by a Daedric Prince?

Arven had killed dragons. He’d killed the world eater, the God of Time. If he had to, he’d go back into Oblivion itself to find Molag Bal and destroy vampirism at the source.

He would stop at nothing to cure himself of this disease. And then, finally, he’d be able to tell the woman next to him how he truly felt.

Notes:

Hello again! I'm back with another chapter. I've also updated the original chapter slightly as well. Nothing too drastic, but I felt like the first chapter isn't the best representation of my writing any longer, a couple of years later. And I want people to have a good first impression if they ever stumble across this fic!

As always I hope you've enjoyed reading, and a huge thank you to everyone who's followed along so far, and has left a comment or even just kudos. I can't overstate how much it means.

Chapter 22: Betrayal

Arven was starting to tire of travelling recently. It certainly wasn’t a new thing for him. After becoming the Dragonborn, he’d he’d travelled all over Skyrim. But he couldn’t help but wonder, just why was Fort Dawnguard built as far away from everything as possible? A towering, impressive fort build in a comfortable little corner that took days to get to.

“We should’ve kept those damn horses,” Arven muttered under his breath.

“Oh? Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” Serana replied. “I was wondering when you’d realise that I’m practically a genius.”

“Not even close. No, I just don’t think anyone should have to walk as much as we have in the past few weeks. I used to like it, the lack of people, the quietness, it was sort of relaxing. But now I think I’ve done enough walking to last a lifetime,” Arven said.

It wasn’t all bad, though. It’d be a lie for the man to say that the time spent with Serana wasn’t something he thoroughly enjoyed. Even when they were simply walking in silence under the night sky.

“Hey, I keep suggesting we take a break,” Serana said.

Arven grunted. The more she suggested that, the more enticing it sounded. He had struggled, severely, to get out of bed that morning. Not because he was tired or drowsy, he hadn’t felt the need to sleep at all. Being a vampire was giving him even more energy than he normally had, and since he’d done nothing but travel and wander around the college the previous day there was no reason for him to lie down.

Serana, however, was still recovering from her fight with Garan. So after they had retired to their room, after a while she ended up falling asleep. She had said she wasn’t tired, but while reading a book on alchemy eventually Arven heard the sound of her dropping the book onto her lap. A second later and she slumped up against him.

He didn’t have the heart to move her at the time. Eventually she’d gotten comfortable in her sleep, cuddling up to his side. At one point she simply rested her head on her chest, one arm wrapped around his body. He was trapped for a few hours, as any movement would’ve woken her. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

So he spent quite some time reading the book she’d dropped. He didn’t understand any of it, but it passed the time.

“No, no breaks,” Arven said as he blinked, shaking away those memories. “There’s too much to do.”

“Always such a bore,” Serana teased.

“No one’s stopping you from taking a break,” Arven replied.

“What, and leave you alone? Considering how accident prone you are, you’d last a day. Two, max,” Serana replied, looking at him with a coy, accusatory glare.

“I survived pretty well on my own before I met you, you know,” Arven said.

“And that’ll remain one of the greatest mysteries of our time,” Serana retorted, prompting Arven to let out a scoff.

“Don’t tempt me though, I’m not eager to get back to the Fort,” she continued.

“It’ll only be a quick stop. Drop in, talk to the priest, then we can leave right after,” Arven said. He was slightly nervous about returning to the Fort. Serana’s disguises were masterful, but considering Isran’s paranoia it wouldn’t surprise him if he ended up testing Arven in some way.

“I hope you’re right,” Serana said. “I’m half tempted to read one of these scrolls myself. It can’t be that difficult, right?” She mused. She was joking, of course. The dangers of reading a scroll were known to anyone that knew of their existence.

Arven smirked. “It was pretty easy when I did it,” he said.

“Very funny,” Serana replied, looking at him. Arven just gave her a slightly cocky grin.

“…You’re kidding, right?” She prompted.

“Maybe,” Arven said.

“Yeah, no way. Even with everything you’ve done, there’s no way you’ve read a damn Elder Scroll,” Serana stated, as if it was fact.

“Hey, if you say so,” Arven concluded before he just continued on walking, dropping the subject. There was a moment of silence between them that carried on, but the entire time Serana was staring him down.

“Okay, seriously. Did you?” She finally asked.

Arven let out a brief laugh. “Like you said, there’s no way, right?” He said,

Serana just stared him down in return, a rather unimpressed look on her face.

Arven held his tongue for a while longer before he finally relented. “Alright, alright. I did. I had to read one to learn a certain shout. I’m pretty sure I told you that before,” he said.

“I think so. I just assumed you got a Moth Priest to read it, if someone even read it at all,” she said.

“Nope, it was all me.”

“So the shout was written on the scroll then? That’s not what I’d expect.”

“Nah, it wasn’t. I don’t even know what was, I just read the scroll and I went back in time. Heard the shout from some old Nords,” Arven continued. He knew how outlandish this sounded, and he was wording his story in a certain way to emphasise that fact.

“Okay I know you’re just messing with me now,” Serana said.

Once again, Arven just shrugged while giving her an insufferable smirk.

“There’s no magic that lets you travel through time, Arven. I’m not that gullible,” she continued.

Arven raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t realise you were an expert on Elder Scrolls,” he commented.

Serana rolled her eyes. Then she shoved him in the arm, making him take a few steps to the side.

This time though, Arven pushed her back, using just a little bit more force than she had. This almost shocked her, since he normally just accepted it whenever she was feeling childish and playfully shoved or kicked him. She looked at him, her eyes wide with a slight amount of shock.

So, she did the only natural thing. She shoved him back, harder.

There, in the dead of the night stood two Vampire Lords. Two of the strongest beings in Skyrim, and possibly Tamriel. Immortal beings of legend with strength and power that most could only fathom in their wildest dreams.

And they were having a shoving match, giggling like children the entire time.

After their ‘squabble’, the two continued on towards Fort Dawnguard. Most of the trip passed with idle chatter or a comfortable silence. At one point their usual roles of teacher and student had been reversed, after Serana asked Arven to teach her how to use restoration magic.

The request shocked Arven slightly but it made sense. After he showed her how useful it could be, why wouldn’t she want to know how to use it?

Arven had asked why it wasn’t more common among vampires, and Serana had simply assumed it was either due to arrogance or ignorance. Or both.

The lesson didn’t exactly go smoothly. Arven was a far better student than instructor, and Serana’s natural talent in other areas of magic worked against her as she was too eager to start casting spells. That backfired when she ended up using regular restoration magic initially, burning herself.

But the two continued, and by the time they approached the valley leading to Fort Dawnguard Serana had gotten to the point where she could emit a dull golden glow from one hand without harming herself. She seemed frustrated with her progress, but such a thing took Arven months to learn initially.

The lessons didn’t conclude naturally, however. They only did so due to the eerie chill the two felt as they neared the fort.

“This feels different,” Arven said as the two walked through the valley. The fort itself wasn’t in sight yet, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in the air. Arven felt as if he was being watched, with the occasional shiver running down his spine.

“Remember when I said that I hated this place?” Serana asked, looking to him. “This is what I meant.”

Arven did remember, although he didn’t quite understand the degree to which the fort was enchanted. Even a few minutes out, he felt like he shouldn’t be here. Like he should turn around and leave.

“It’s only going to get stronger, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Serana responded. “It feels more intense than it did last time we were here, though.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Arven commented. “Do you think we can convince them to meet somewhere else? Somewhere without the gloomy décor?” As they walked, Arven couldn’t help but notice some ‘additions’ to the valley. Up on the ridges to either side, spikes had been erected. These spikes had the heads of vampires mounted on them. At least, that’s what Arven hoped they were.

“This seems almost fanatical,” Arven continued.

“It really does,” Serana said. Frowning, she reached out, grabbing Arven’s arm to pull him to a stop.

“I know some of these people are your friends, Arven, but before we go in there,” Serana started before she trailed off, trying to find the right thing to say. “Just be careful, okay? You’re not one of them anymore. I don’t know if you can expect the same hospitality.”

“What do you mean?” Arven asked with a slight pang in his chest. “I am still one of them, regardless of what I am now.”

“I know, you are. Sorry, I didn’t word that right,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. “You’re the same person. You haven’t changed, not one bit. But they might not see things that way,” she explained.

Arven raised a brow, prompting her to continue.

“These people all have one thing in common. They hate vampires, more than anything. And because of that, there’s a real chance that they might see you as a vampire first, and a vampire hunter second. Even though you’ve worked with them in the past,” she said.

Arven paused, thinking to himself. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but he knew first-hand just how blinding someone’s hatred could be. If he thought about how he’d react in a similar situation, before he met Serana? He’d at least be distrusting, if not downright hostile depending on the person.

“There’s a chance I’m wrong, and I really hope that I am. But just in case we get there, and they only see you as a vampire? One that’s been corrupted by me? I need you to be prepared, okay?” Serana stated.

Arven didn’t verbally respond. He just nodded to her, mulling over his thoughts. He was sure most of the Dawnguard would be understanding, but the more he thought about it, the more he became doubtful.

A warrior that travels with a vampire suddenly dies and is brought back to life as a vampire himself? There’s plenty of reason to doubt a story like that. From an outsider’s perspective, especially one of a vampire hunter, the first thing they’d assume is that Serana manipulated and twisted him. Pushed him into a corner where he had no other choice. And now, as a vampire, she’d be using that to turn him to her side.

Arven shook his head, trying to expel the thoughts from his mind. But he couldn’t. It stuck there, clinging to him. Seeing the mutilated bodies of vampires put on display as they walked certainly didn’t do much to quell that feeling of unease.

By the time the fort had come into view, Arven’s worries continued to grow. The fort had been increasingly fortified in the time that they were gone. Where quickly established palisade walls had stood previously, now there was a solid stone wall. The fort itself, and by extension the front courtyard and training area were all being built up to the point where it was essentially impenetrable.

Small watch towers had been erected behind the stone wall as well, providing crossbowmen with a higher vantage point. The top and base of the tower were protected by spikes, with no way to get to the top besides one ladder.

“How did they build all this so quick?” Arven asked. “How long have we been gone?”

“Weeks. I haven’t actually checked the date since we left the Soul Cairn,” Serana responded. “But even still, this is impressive.”

The various guards in the watch towers stared as Serana and Arven approached. The moon was out and it was the middle of the night, so understandably, the Dawnguard were on high alert.

“It looks like there’s been more attacks as well,” Serana said. “But there’s too many to all be from father’s court. They must be picking fights with smaller packs of vampires throughout Skyrim.”

“It looks like they’re winning,” Arven said. A statement like that should’ve brought some level of joy, but it brought nothing but more apprehension. He hated this feeling.

Eventually they came to the main gate. The same gate where Arven had been attacked by vampires posing as refugees. In the same fashion as last time, they were stopped by a guard.

“Stop where you are,” a voice called from the wall. “Identify yourselves.”

Arven, who was currently under an illusion spell from Serana, removed his hood and looked up to the two. “Arven, member of the Dawnguard. I’ve returned to speak with the Moth Priest, if he’s still here.”

The guard on the wall paused for a moment. He wasn’t someone Arven recognised.

“The warrior with Dawnbreaker? You don’t match the description I’ve got,” the guard responded.

Arven let out a deep sight. “Can’t you see the scrolls we’re carrying?” He asked, pointing to the Elder Scrolls that he and Serana were carrying.

The guard’s eyes opened in realisation for a moment, before they then narrowed. “This is the vampire, then?” he asked, motioning to Serana.

“This is Serana, yes,” Arven responded.

The guard hesitated, turning to quietly discuss things with another guard who had come up to see what the commotion was about. They were whispering to each other, but Arven could still make out some of the conversation.

“Do we really have to let that bitch in?” One asked. Words which made Arven’s blood begin to boil. But Serana reached out, placing a hand on his arm to calm him.

A moment later and the gate opened up for them without another word from the guards. Arven and Serana both walked through, picking up their pace to get through the uncomfortable camp as quickly as they could.

By the time they reached the fort’s entrance Arven was almost in physical pain. The presence of the fort somehow not only made him agitated and uncomfortable, but he also felt weaker. Whatever spells or enchantments had been placed on the fort were incredibly effective.

“You really came here to find me, all that time ago? I’m surprised you didn’t turn around, or at least wait for me to leave,” Arven said, remembering how he’d found Serana waiting for him at the fort after he’d gone to recruit members for the Dawnguard.

“I thought about waiting for you in the valley, but I felt like it would’ve been harder for you to trust me. Meeting you here, I was putting myself in danger to speak to you. I had hoped that by doing so, you’d be more likely to hear me out,” Serana explained.

And she was right. That was part of the reason Arven listened to her in the first place. But back then he didn’t realise just how bad it would’ve been for her.

Opening the main door to the hall, Arven found that he wasn’t actually surprised to see Isran awake at this hour. The man was standing on the opposite side of the hall, arms folded across his broad chest with his warhammer resting across his back. The head of that warhammer seemed far brighter than the last time Arven had seen it.

“Boy,” Isran commented as Arven entered the main hall.

“Isran,” Arven greeted. “You’re certainly up late.”

“Step into the circle, lad,” Isran said.

Arven let out a long, deep sigh. “Well, he figured that out quickly,” he whispered to Serana. Looking at her he saw the worry on her face, but he offered her a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine, I promise. You can drop the illusion.”

Despite her better judgement, Serana did so. She dispelled the magic she had cast on Arven, and now his eyes appeared as a deep, sanguine red.

“No need,” Arven said to Isran, no longer hiding the fact of what he had become. He noticed off to the side other Dawnguard members staring at him, eyes wide with shock. Gunmar and Sorine were there as well.

He noticed most of the members were armed.

“Shit,” Isran cursed beneath his breath. “Didn’t I tell you not to be an idiot?”

Arven shrugged in response. “Bit off more than I could chew getting these scrolls,” he responded.

“What the hell did she do to you?” Isran asked.

Arven’s brow furrowed. “She saved me,” he said. “I was killed, then she brought me back by turning me.”

Isran just scoffed, a look of anger appearing on his face. “You were killed? What the hell managed to kill you? Do you even remember it? How do you know that she didn’t set it all up, looking for an excuse to do this to you?” The accusations came from Isran hard and fast. They reminded Arven very strongly of how he spoke to Serana when they first met. How he immediately assumed the worst.

“Like I said,” Arven replied through grit teeth. “Serana saved me. Not only that, but without her we wouldn’t have found the last scroll. It’s because of her that I’m alive and we have what we need to find this bow.”

As he spoke Serana walked up to his side, leaning in close to him. “Arven, this isn’t good. We need to talk our way out of this,” she whispered to him.

Looking away from Isran, Arven saw what she meant. More members of the Dawnguard had appeared, each of them armed. They all looked incredibly nervous. Anxious. Some looked like they didn’t want to be there, but some of them almost had a bloodlust in their eyes.

“Where’s the Moth Priest?” Arven asked.

“Heading back to Cyrodiil. Now that he’s blind he can’t help us,” Isran said.

“He’s blind? How did that happen?” Arven asked.

“Damned fool pushed himself too far,” Isran said. Then he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket, holding it up. “But we’ve got a contingency plan.”

“Alright, let’s hear it then. The sooner we can get this sorted the better,” Arven said.

There was a moment of silence before Isran spoke again. He shook his head, as if he wasn’t happy with what he was about to do. Almost like he was conflicted. “Give me the scrolls, boy. And your sword. Then get out of here and don’t return.”

“What? What the hell do you mean by that?” Arven asked. “I brought these scrolls here so we could figure out where to find the bow, then go and defeat Harkon together.”

“And you’ve done that. You’ve brough the scrolls. Now leave them here and get out of my fort before my patience runs its course,” Isran replied.

“So what, just because I’m a vampire now I’m useless to you?” Arven asked, his voice starting to rise.

“Because you’re one of them now we can’t trust you!” Isran snapped. “Don’t you get it now boy? You’re a monster. A blood-sucking leech. I was wrong to trust her, because she turned you into one of them! And I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“Don’t do this, Isran,” Arven pleaded in a far quieter voice. “We’re the two best tools you’ve got against Harkon. Without us you don’t stand a chance.”

“And with you, we’re likely to get stabbed in the back and offered up to those monstrosities the second we let down our guard,” Isran replied. A small murmur of agreement came from some other members throughout the main hall.

“If that was the case it would’ve happened already!” Arven yelled back. “How do you not get it yet? If I wasn’t on your side, what would I have to gain by coming back here? If I was really aligned with the vampires, then you’ve already lost!”

Arven hadn’t noticed, but behind him Serana was standing on edge. She hadn’t drawn any weapons, but she was ready to do so within an instant.

“We’ve got the three scrolls. We could’ve gone to Cyrodiil, found another priest and had them deciphered. Then the bow would belong to us and we could’ve fulfilled the prophecy. At no point would we have needed to come back here until we had the bow in our hands and had blocked out the Sun,” Arven continued.

“Don’t you understand? I get how paranoid you are. I get how distrusting you are, I was the exact same way. But the only reason I’m vampire now is because if I wasn’t, I’d be dead. I’d be a lifeless corpse in some god-forsaken corner of oblivion. But I’m not dead. I’m right here, and vampire or not, I’m still the same person!” As Arven pleaded his case, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, he could feel the tension starting to lessen. Some of the warriors had relaxed a grip on the hilt of their sheathed weapons.

What Arven said made sense, of course. He was telling the truth, and most of them were starting to see that. But not all of them.

“Liar!” A voice rang out, a woman standing to the side of the room wearing light armour. Arven looked to her, confused. He didn’t recognise her.

“He’s a liar, just like the rest! A blood-sucking bastard!” The woman continued to yell. The voice wasn’t one Arven had heard before. But after a moment, he recognised the look in her eyes. He’d seen that fear before.

Shortly after he had turned and was stuck in the cave. The wood elf who had been captured by the bandits. Who had seen him tear apart her captors.

Arven felt a deep fear settle into his heart.

Oh no.

“I’ve seen you! I’ve seen what you do to people! You tear them apart, limb from limb. And you enjoy it! You’re no Dawnguard, just another monster,” the woman cried out. There was silence in the room except for her.

Arven didn’t know what to say.

“Arven, who is that?” Serana whispered urgently, clearly lost.

“She’s the woman who I almost killed after I turned. She saw me kill those people,” Arven said back, his words barely above a whisper. His face had become even more pale, if such a thing was possible.

Serana’s expression dropped. “Arven, we need to go. Right now!” She said to him.

“What are you talking about, girl?” Isran asked, looking to the wood elf.

“I’ve seen this man before. Before I joined the Dawnguard. He’s the vampire that I’ve talked about!” The woman announced. Realisation seemed to break out on some of the other warrior’s faces. Realisation, followed by hatred.

“When I was captured he attacked the bandits who attacked me. He mutilated them. Tore their limbs off! He destroyed them, and he laughed while doing it!” She continued.

“I didn’t mean to,” Arven responded, yet his voice was weak.

“Don’t listen to his lies, he’s a disgusting vampire and nothing more!” The woman exclaimed. She was panting heavily, and Arven could hear her heartbeat. He could sense her fear. He could hear the heartbeats of every single person standing in the room, an orchestra of adrenaline and anxiety that was very quickly starting to reach a crescendo.

After hearing all this, Isran pulled his warhammer free from its sheath, holding it in both hands.

“This isn’t your fault, lad,” Isran said. “And this isn’t personal. But you can’t be trusted. No vampire can.”

“Arven, watch out!” Serana said as she pulled him out of the way. He was momentarily stunned by the wood elf, the conviction with which she denounced him, and the pure fear she felt in her heart. As Serana pulled him a crossbow bolt flew past his head, snapping against the stone on a far wall.

Just as it did, the main doors to Fort Dawnguard had been barricaded behind them, and Arven and Serana found themselves surrounded on all sides.

“I’ll try and make this quick, boy,” Isran said. Then, the older man charged.

Arven was still momentarily shocked, but as soon as he saw Serana summon a blade in one hand with lightning crackling around her other, the reality of the situation hit him.

“Wait, no!” He cried out. “Don’t do this!”

His words fell on deaf ears. Another crossbow bolt flew, this time towards Serana. She dodged it effortlessly, but it was one of many. A few more were let loose as members of the Dawnguard all charged, and Arven’s shock was interrupted by a searing pain in his left shoulder.

He looked down, seeing a silver bolt buried deep into his flesh. It stung. It hurt, and his blood was starting to flare up.

Shaking his head, Arven summoned an ethereal blade on instinct and turned his back to Serana, the two covering for each other as they stood in the centre of the room. One soldier had approached him, a silver hatchet raised high to attempt to cleave Arven’s head in two.

After tearing the bolt free from his shoulder he reached up, catching the man’s hand before he kicked him square in the chest, sending the man stumbling, almost flying back into another warrior.

As he did so he heard a blast of lightning ring out behind him. Turning his head he called out.

“Don’t kill them!” He pleaded to Serana.

“I’ll try! But I don’t have much choice,” Serana called back. She was already trying to conduct non-lethal attacks. Either out of a new habit, or out of consideration for Arven, but there was only so much she could do. Her first blast sent a man flying back against the stone walls surrounding them, concussing him.

Just afterwards Serana threw her hand to the sky. She summoned as much ice as she could, a torrent of icicles and mist erupting from her hand which quickly filled the room. Visibility in the hall became poor within seconds. A regular human could barely see their own hands, but Serana and Arven were still capable of at least seeing the outlines of everyone else.

“We need to fight towards the exit!” Serana called out.

“I need that note first!” Arven replied. “We don’t know how to use the scrolls otherwise.”

Despite the new conditions, the Dawnguard kept coming. Two more armed fighters came at Arven, one with a sword and another with a hatchet.

“Don’t,” Arven said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shut up!” One of the men called out. “I’ve fallen for the lies of a vampire once. Never again!” The two members advanced, fighting in practised manoeuvres. One used their shield trying to draw Arven’s attention while the other tried to circle around him, goading him into doing something foolish or reckless.

Unfortunately for them, Arven was a far better fighter than most vampires. Despite being one, he didn’t fight like one. As the shielded warrior lowered his protection, trying to trick Arven into committing to an attack, Arven stepped forward with a feint.

At the last minute he shifted to the side, striking out with a purposely dulled ethereal blade to slam the other warrior on the helmet, knocking him unconscious. Considering just how quickly he could move there was no time for either of the Dawnguard to react to the feint, and as the shieldbearer was trying to process what happened Arven grabbed his sword with both hands and swung it at the man.

He intentionally struck him on the shield dead-centre, smashing it into pieces while sending the man sprawling back.

Behind him, Serana was doing her best to incapacitate as many members of the Dawnguard as she could. Several men and women had either their feet, or their hands bound in ice. She’d disarmed another with her sword, and stabbed a man in the thigh to stop him from getting back up.

The fight was messy. Horrifically messy. More crossbow bolts were let loose. Arven and Serana had the reflexes to dodge them, yet unfortunately this resulted in the bolts striking other Dawnguard.

“Fucking hell, they’re going to kill each other!” Arven cursed, placing his back against Serana’s once more.

“Don’t think about it. Just defend yourself!” Serana replied.

“How can I not? I know these people!”

Following a blast of lighting Arven felt a tug on his shoulder. Serana had grabbed him, making eye contact. Her face was stricken with anger, but Arven could see a legitimate sadness hiding behind the exterior.

“They chose this,” Serana said before she had to turn back, raising her blade to counter another assault.

Arven wanted to diffuse the situation. He wanted to talk everyone down. But the Dawnguard members weren’t fighting logically. They weren’t thinking. They were in a frenzy, he could hear it. And they saw two vampires that they could take out their frustrations on.

Trying not to focus on the anger at the situation welling up inside of him Arven sprinted to the outskirts of the room. He found one crossbowman and struck her down, delivering a punch that knocked the woman unconscious.

While he was quick, far quicker than any human in the room, the enchantments littered throughout the fort had him feeling sluggish. Just as he turned to the next attacker he moved too slowly, and another bolt struck him. This bolt pierced through his stomach, causing Arven to grunt through a burst of pain that shocked his body.

“Arven!” Serana called out, hearing the pain in his voice even through the sounds of disoriented battle surrounding her. But she had too much to deal with in her immediate surroundings to go to him.

Not only was the fort sapping her strength, but trying to use non-lethal attacks slowed her further. Her natural instinct in fighting was to kill. That’s how she trained for centuries. Going against that took a staggering amount of self-control.

Arven turned to his attacker and lunged, unintentionally bearing his fangs as he did so from the anger of being hurt. He ducked the next attack, a bolt flying overhead before he raised his sword high in the air. Then, he saw the look of fear mixed with determination across Sorine’s face. She had her crossbow lowered, trying to re-load it.

Arven’s heart ached. This wasn’t someone he wanted to fight. This was someone he wanted to fight alongside. Yet the look in her eyes told him that she was ready to kill him.

Before she could reload he closed the gap between the two and struck her with the pommel of his sword. Sorine, unable to react in time was knocked to the floor, dropping her hand-crafted crossbow. By the time she opened her eyes Arven was standing over her, sword raised high.

Arven felt his blood pumping. He could hear the blood pumping in every other person’s veins throughout the room. The sound, the scent of fresh blood splattering over the stone walls was exhilarating. It made him want to fight more. He wanted to relish in this feeling. Lose himself in it.

Beneath him was someone too slow to fight him. Too weak. They had challenged him and lost. So, naturally, they deserved death.

No!

Seeing the glint of a silver blade, Arven swung his sword down as Sorine went to stab him with a dagger she drew from her belt. Instead of swinging the sword down across her neck, slitting her throat and spilling her blood all over the floor and himself Arven parried her dagger, sending the blade flying into the blizzard. His hands were shaking, fighting away the bloodlust that he felt.

Sorine looked up at him, almost petrified. She was unarmed now, and entirely helpless at the hands of a vampire.

Arven looked her in the eye, his piercing red irises making her freeze in place.

“Stay down,” Arven growled through grit teeth before he turned away and dived back into the midst of the fighting.

Sorine couldn’t react. She stayed where she was, chest rising and falling, heaving with panicked breaths as her mind was totally blank.

On the other side of the room Serana yelled. It was a yell of frustration and anger, parrying the blade of a Dawnguard member before she held out a hand and blasted him away with lightning. At the last second she aimed her hand down, changing it from a lethal attack into one that left the man crippled instead, his leg below the knee being blown clear off.

Shocked at the anger towards herself that came from such an act she turned around to face the next attacker, but instead she found herself blinded. A searing, painfully bright light had emerged from the blizzard. She raised a hand to shield her eyes on reflex, and saw the outline of a towering, hulking man with a two-handed hammer moments before she felt something strike her torso.

The head of Isran’s hammer struck her dead-centre, the enchanted silver ingot resting on the head of the warhammer flooding her body with blinding pain as she was knocked backward. All the air left her lungs, and a cry that escaped her lips only managed to come out as a breathless gasp. Her body ragdolled across the floor while her chest felt like it had been attacked with a red hot piece of iron.

She managed to find her balance, but by the time she got to her feet Isran was charging at her once again, hammer raised high. Whatever he had done to that hammer, whatever enchantment he used made the weapon brighter than the sun to any vampire that laid eyes on it. She held her arms above her head to try and protect herself, but just before Isran struck her the man was tackled. Arven came sprinting from out of sight, lunging right for Isran.

The older man turned just in time to hold out his hammer, using the hilt to try and block Arven’s ‘attack’. The vampire in return grabbed the hilt of the hammer, and the two went sprawling on the ground as the force behind Arven’s lunge sent them both a considerable distance away from Serana.

Arven’s eyes were deep red and bloodshot, his fangs fully exposed with saliva dripping down them. He hated Isran in this moment. Both for his stupidity and distrust, and for how he just hurt Serana. As the two came to a stop Isran shoved him aside, managing to stand and raise his weapon. The hammer was blinding to Arven, but he managed to duck to the side as the hammer swung at his head.

With a fresh, sharp blade summoned in his hands he then swung it up, slicing the grip of the hammer and letting the enchanted head fall to the ground with a loud, reverberating thud.

While this was happening Serana had gotten to her feet and was doing her best to keep herself and Arven safe. She erected two parallel walls of ice on either side of Arven and Isran, blocking any more bolts from flying in their direction, hoping, knowing that Arven would be able to defeat the man. Then she had turned, focusing her attention on the way to the exit and the warriors standing between her and freedom from this damned fort.

As Isran was disarmed, Arven felt good. He felt powerful. The leader of the resistance against the vampires picked a fight with him, and that man was losing. As it should be. Arrogance and pride swelled up in Arven’s chest whether he wanted it to or not. With every passing second more and more blood was staining the floor, and that roused the side of him which he hated the most.

Advancing on Isran, Arven stepped over the leg of a Dawnguard member. The severed limb had contributed even more to the gore that filled the hall, and the scent, the taste of it now danced along Arven’s senses. He felt more aware, more in the moment than he ever had before. And the thing he was so incredibly focused on right now was putting Isran down.

The Dawnguard warrior wasn’t going to give up simply because he was disarmed, however. Some time ago, Isran had taught Arven how to use restoration magic effectively. He was about to give Arven another lesson.

As his eyes flashed brightly, Isran let out a challenging yell as restorative energies burst from his body. An aura of magic enveloped him, cascading torrents of restoration magic flowing around him in a sphere which pierced the blizzard and made Arven’s skin burn. Arven recoiled back, raising his arms to try and block out the light.

Isran just advanced on Arven, further disorienting him with that magic. He lashed out with a fist, punching Arven in the gut. The punch itself didn’t do much damage, but being this close allowed the magic to burn at Arven’s body. It felt like he was caught in flames, and he screamed.

Serana turned around at the sound, panicking as she heard that primal cry of pain. But she herself was nearly blinded by the light coming from Isran. That was a spell specifically designed to fight the undead. And along with the enchantments inside the fort, it was nigh unbearable.

It was a miracle that she was able to dodge the next attack in such a state. Charging from the blizzard, Gunmar had an axe held in both hands as he swung it towards Serana’s torso. She dodged backwards, just missing the metal by an inch before she retaliated with a blast of lightning. Gunmar was far more skilled than the average Dawnguard warrior though and knew how most vampires preferred to fight. He rolled to the side, getting back to his feet without breaking a sweat.

“Sorry about this lass. For what it’s worth, as far as vampires go you weren’t a bad one. But you’re still a vampire all the same,” he said. Then, he charged once more, forcing Serana on the defensive.

At the same time Isran advanced on Arven. Seeing Arven scurry back, much in the same fashion as countless other vampires had done so before him, Isran felt vindicated in his choice. “I warned you, boy. And you didn’t listen,” he said, crouching down to pick up a discarded sword.

“I’m sorry for what I have to do. If there’s even a slither of your human-self left in this disgusting beast before me, rest easy knowing we’ll stop Harkon without you,” Isran called out as he raised his sword high in the air.

Arven could barely see the attack coming, but he felt it coming. He’d been in enough fights to have a sense for these things. Even despite the chaos around him. His senses were sharp, too sharp, and it was making it harder and harder to focus.

The blood pumping in the veins of every man and woman around him. The excitement and panic in his body, the pain from the restoration magic burning him. The arrogance swelling inside of him, his vampiric instincts telling him to hurry up and slaughter every last human in the room. But those weren’t the only instincts trying to flare up.

There were two voices inside of him. Each telling him not to lose. The first, the one that was trying desperately to control him, came from the curse he carried. His vampiric side telling him that everyone attacking him now was beneath him. That they were mere cattle, sheep. Weaklings that deserved death, who served no greater purpose in life than to be his next meal.

But no, he wouldn’t accept that. He couldn’t, he’d given into those urges once and he’d never forgive himself.

The second voice had been forcefully quietened, but it still lingered there. It told him not to lose, to ignore the pain and fight. Not because the people attacking him were weak. No, this voice recognised their strength. But it told Arven to be better. Be stronger. It told him to take pride in who he was, what he was.

He had a choice between accepting either one of those voices. If he didn’t, he’d lose. And if he lost, he’d die, and there’d be nothing to stop Isran from advancing on Serana next.

As Isran swung his blade down Arven moved in closer to the man, reaching up to catch the pommel of the blade with one hand. The restoration magic still burnt at him, but Arven stared Isran directly in the eye. The sanguine colour in his eyes seemed to weaken almost, and his fangs became less pronounced. But there was a fire deep in his eyes that was unmistakable.

“Faas Ru Maar!”

Arven’s shout reverberated throughout the room. The sheer energy behind it shattered the walls of ice surrounding him and dispersed the blizzard to a minor extent, increasing visibility just enough so that the Dawnguard members could see each other as they all had looks of pure terror stricken across their face.

Gunmar, who was preparing to attack Serana once more, felt his knees shaking and his arms barely able to grip his weapon as he was struck with the urge to get as far away as possible from the source of that shout.

The only person who wasn’t effected was Serana. Either from pure strength to overcome it, or an unconscious will from Arven for the shout to simply pass over her.

Even Isran’s expression dropped, the strength in his arms weakening while the spell he was concentrating on lost some of its lustre. It was enough so that Arven could grab hold of the man’s armour, gripping a leather strap that ran across Isran’s chest before Arven tossed him against the far wall with a near effortless shove.

Despite the damage that Arven had sustained from the restoration spell, he was healing so fast that the burn marks on his skin were retreating at a rate that was almost visible to the naked eye. As the voices of the souls within him raged, coming to the surface, it even felt like the effects of the fort seemed to be less debilitating.

“Dovahkiin!”

“Faasnu!”

“Kendov!”

He heard their voices in the dragon’s tongue. There were some words he knew, and others which he didn’t but he could feel the meaning hidden behind them. But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered is that he needed to defeat Isran.

Not as a vampire. But as the warrior he was.

Approaching the leader of the Dawnguard, Arven crouched on his way to pick up a shield that had fallen. He summoned a blade at the same time, advancing on Isran just as the other man stood to his feet and charged with a blade held in both hands. More restorative magics burst from Isran now, just as bright as before.

The rest of the room was too terrified to do anything but watch the ensuing fight, as short as it was. Serana moved to interject, but after a second it was clear that she wasn’t needed.

Isran brought his blade down towards Arven who effortlessly diverted the blow with his shield. The dragonborn then raised a leg, kicking Isran who stumbled back a few steps. Quickly regaining his feet the Dawnguard warrior then swung his blade several times in quick succession, showing speed that only the most trained, skilled men could muster.

Arven used his blade and shield to stop each attack, either deflecting them or parrying them, sending jarring shocks up Isran’s arms. In response Isran yelled out, unwilling, unable to submit or forfeit to Arven.

“I will not lose to you, beast!” He shouted as he gave one final charge towards Arven.

As he did Arven dismissed his blade. Raising his shield, he swung it backhanded against Isran like a weapon. The sheer force and strength behind the blow knocked Isran back against the same wall that Arven threw him towards only a minute earlier.

The shock from hitting stone was almost enough to concuss Isran, who slumped to the floor in a daze. But he was unable to rest, as a moment later Arven was standing above him. The dragonborn reached down, grabbing his collar with his shielded arm before raising Isran up to eye level.

“You really are a monster,” Isran spat, blood dripping from his mouth.

The blood would’ve seemed so enticing, but Arven was doing everything he could to supress it. He let the dragon souls within have near free reign in his body. The revelled in the feeling, and he felt their influence throughout every part of their being. They were ecstatic from the fight, from winning. But more importantly, they respected Arven.

Unlike the curse he had, the vampiric blood that tried to control him and drive him to be nothing more than a blood-crazed beast, Arven’s draconic blood existed to serve him. Not the other way around. As much as he hated the feeling, as much as he hated having those souls inside of him, he realised that when given a choice between two evils, this was one that he could live with.

“I’m no monster,” Arven said back, holding Isran in place. “And even if I am, I’m showing more self-restraint than anyone else here. What does that make you, Isran?”

Arven didn’t receive an answer. He realised that he didn’t particularly want to, either. Still holding the man against the wall, Arven used his free hand to dig around in his pocket, finding the note. After glancing over it for a second to ensure it actually contained useful information, he let Isran drop to the floor before turning around.

He was surprised to see Serana standing right behind him. She’d moved closer as he fought Isran, ready to interject if the bloodlust overcame him and he went to do something he’d regret. But thankfully, that wasn’t needed.

For Serana, the urge to ensure that Arven was okay was overwhelming, but this wasn’t the time nor the place. Dawnguard warriors were still standing around them. They were terrified, unsure, but still a threat.

“Arven, let’s go. We need to get as far away from here as we can,” Serana said to him in a hushed tone before taking him by the arm. She kept her eyes on the warriors surrounding them. They all still looked terrified, but she didn’t truly understand why and was worried that the effect could end at any second.

“There’s still more out there. They barricaded the door, but when we open it we might have to fight our way out,” she said, and she was ready for a fight. Electricity crackled around the fingers of an outstretched hand.

“It’s fine, they won’t fight us,” Arven said.

“How can you be sure?” Serana asked, but in response Arven raised a hand in front of her, looking at her with a reassuring smile while signalling her to stay back. Turning to face the double doors, barricaded quickly with a heavy wooden reinforcement horizontally across the centre, Arven inhaled deeply.

Planting his feet, he shouted.

“Fus Roh Dah!”

The wooden doors splintered, giving way as the force behind the shout shattered them. They swung open as chunks of them broke away, the hinges being stretched and stressed to their limits before simply snapping. Serana was right, soldiers had gathered on the other side of the door ready to fight if needed, but as soon as they saw the sheer destructive force of the shout they hesitated.

The man walking out of the fort was a terrifying sight. Arven, emerging from a room full of injured, bloodied fighters, was standing in the night air. With blood splattered across his attire, red eyes piercing through the dim light and an overwhelming presence that was alien to any man or woman who was fortunate enough to have never witnessed a dragon, it was enough to kill the will to fight of anyone still standing.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Arven uttered a simple command. “Move.”

The soldiers did. So Arven and Serana moved through them, then as soon as they had moved past the force they broke out into a run, moving to get as far away from the fort as quickly as they possibly could.

Arven didn’t keep track of how long they ran for. Eventually they reached the end of the valley and there was time to take a breath, with Serana pulling up beside him less than a second later. He immediately turned to her, gently grabbing her shoulders while he looked her over.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He hadn’t seen the attack that had struck her earlier, but he’d heard it. And it was obvious just how dangerous Isran’s weapon was against vampires.

Serana nodded to him, catching her breath. “I’m okay, but what about you?” Despite her words it was clear she was injured. Her figure was hunched ever so slightly, and any time she tried to straighten up she winced in pain.

Arven ignored her question, still looking her over. He was still on edge, and it was obvious through the way he stood. How every muscle in his body was still tensed, wound up like a spring ready to snap.

Arven ignored her. Stepping up to her he held out a hand, that familiar, yet slightly different glow now surrounding a single hand. “Where did you get hit?” He asked.

“I’m fine, Arven. I’m more worried about you,” she said.  She reached out to grab his other hand. Holding it she could see the ‘burn’ marks. They were healing, but they looked incredibly painful. Even his face had been damaged. He seemed like he’d just walked through a burning building, just without any ash on his body.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said. “I heard it when Isran struck you. Show me where.”

Serana looked up at him. She resisted for a moment before finally relenting. She pointed to a spot several inches below her sternum and within a second Arven had gently placed his hand right where she was struck. A second later and she felt the magicka surging into her body as he healed her. Her eyes widened as she felt the effect of it almost instantly. The cracked bones and bruised muscles were being stitched and mended back together so quickly that she could feel them moving.

It was a little bit gross, in a way. But that was outweighed by how much better she felt as soon as Arven was done. Standing up straight she raised her arms, stretching out a little bit.

“Wow. That’s… I can see why you studied this so hard,” Serana remarked.

“Better?” Arven asked.

“Much. Thank you, Arven,” she said as she looked to him with a sweet smile.

With the reassurance that Serana was okay, Arven let out a breath of air he had been holding in. He took half a step back and the restoration magic he had pooled up in the palm of his hand started to spread throughout the rest of his figure. He used the last of the strength he had, with the souls still present in his body, revelling in their victory. The way their emotions cascaded within him made him feel sick, but there wasn’t much other choice.

After he’d let the restoration magic work for a few more moments, with Serana looking on with a mix of worry and awe, Arven then finally let the tension leave his body.

He pushed the souls back down, corralling them away. They went willingly, unlike last time. They seemed rather content but there was almost a hidden agreement sitting there, saying that they’d be back before long. As soon as they were ‘locked away’, Arven stumbled back a few steps and collapsed against a tree.

“Arven!” Serana called out, moving quick enough so that she had a hand between his head and the tree before he collapsed, guiding him to the ground. Arven’s weakness caught up to him, and more than anything, the hunger. He could fight the vampirism in his blood for some time, but there was no denying what he had become at a physical level. After exerting himself like that, he needed to feed.

“Blood, Serana. Please,” he said.

She immediately went to the belt he had with the vials of blood around his waist. One of them had been shattered during the fight, causing her to curse, but there was still a few more left. Pulling one out she popped the cork, lifting it to Arven’s lips. He opened his mouth and she poured the blood for him, draining two thirds of it in one go.

Arven felt the strength starting to come back to him instantly, and by the time he’d drunk half of the vial he was sitting up straight, a hand on Serana’s wrist as if trying to keep the blood flowing. It was a subconscious motion, and a gentle tug from Serana was enough to remind him to let go. When he did, Serana drunk the rest of the blood immediately. She needed it almost as badly as he did, since fighting within the fort was far, far more draining than a regular fight.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s yours, but all of that blood splattered around the fort, I just-“

“It’s fine,” Arven said, “It’s for you just as much as it’s for me. You don’t need to ask.”

Serana relaxed next to him, the two with their backs up against a tree as Serana’s head came to rest on his shoulder.

“I think Lydia would disagree with you on that one,” she retorted. Arven let out a small snort of amusement at that, but it was forced. That much was obvious by the way his hands were balled up into fists, almost shaking with anger. Serana noticed that, looking up at Arven again to see the pained expression on his face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, placing a hand on his chest.

Arven didn’t respond for a moment. He cursed under his breath, hitting his head against the bark behind him softly before he released some of the tension in his fists. He then turned to her, his eyes glassy.

“What was that, Serana?” He asked. “What the fuck was that?”

Serana didn’t have an answer for him. At least, not one that’d offer a satisfying explanation to what just happened. She just moved closer to him, grabbing his hand with hers while her other hand still rested on his chest, trying to offer a comforting presence.

“Why did they do that? There was no…” Arven trailed off, looking up to the sky. He didn’t have the words to express his frustration, or his anger. All he could to was scream, but he didn’t even have the energy for that anymore. He wanted to. He wanted to let out the frustration and the anger he felt. Fighting might be a release for some, but that entire ordeal was nothing but a source of anxiety and pain for him.

“I didn’t want to do that, Serana. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do,” he whispered to her.

Serana placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her. “I know Arven. You didn’t have a choice,” she said. Her hand moved to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that, okay?”

“I just… I don’t understand why. It didn’t make any sense,” he said.

“They couldn’t see past their hatred. All they could see was two vampires, nothing else,” she said.

Arven thought back to the conversation. It was always dangerous, unsure. But there was one moment where it was decided, where he’d lost the trust of everyone in that room, and remembering that hurt. He closed his eyes tightly, cursing himself.

“That poor girl,” he breathed. “If I’d just had more control, if I hadn’t done those things in the cave-“ he said before being cut off. Serana held his head in both hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare blame this on what you did back then,” Serana said. “I’m going to say this as many times as I have to, but you are not to blame for what happened in that cave. If it was anyone else, they would’ve killed that girl. Anyone else would’ve lost control and done that, but you didn’t.”

Arven believed what she said, deep down. But that didn’t stop the thoughts he was having. He didn’t verbalise it, but a part of him couldn’t help but think that maybe he should’ve killed the girl. If he did, she wouldn’t be alive, and she wouldn’t have told the Dawnguard. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t have needed to hurt all those people.

Serana could gather what he was thinking from his expression. Knowing how much pain he was in internally made her wish for a way to help, although she knew that all she could do was try and comfort him.

“Arven, as hard as it is, you can’t think on the past. You can’t wonder about ‘what ifs’ and how things would’ve played out if you’d done things differently.” As she spoke she leaned in, resting her forehead against his own. Their noses almost brushed together, and she could feel his breath tickling her lips. He didn’t pull away, and she just hoped that her presence like this brought him some level of comfort.

“You can’t control the actions of other people. Nothing that happened tonight came from a fault of your own,” she continued. “All you can do is try and do what you think is best, no matter what situation you find yourself in. Sometimes that won’t be enough to avoid pain. Sometimes things like this will happen. But that’s not a reflection on you, okay? It’s just a reflection of this world we live in. A world that is so, so incredibly lucky to have you in it, and I’m going to hammer that into your head for as long as it takes.”

Eventually, after a long moment of silence, Arven pulled away slightly and looked at Serana.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, his lips pulled into a half-crooked smile, his cheeks slightly damp.

Serana smiled back at him. She leaned in, planting a kiss on his forehead before pulling back. “You stole the words right from my mouth, Arven,” she said.

Notes:

Hello again! It's been a while since I've updated, but I'm back. Sorry for the long break (I feel like I say that a lot), I haven't had as much time to write recently as I would've liked. But I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter. Thank you to everyone for reading it, especially those who reached out and left messages and reviews for me to read. I take the time to read every single one, and they mean a whole lot to me.

Chapter 23: Ancestor Glade

Serana cursed. Again. Arven had lost count of the number of times she’d done so over the past few hours.

The first time took him by surprise. The second time was humorous. But by now he was simply getting frustrated on her behalf. Looking over at her as she concentrated on her hands, after a few moments of intense silence she cursed once more, flinching and recoiling as a golden glow erupted from her palm.

“Gods damn it,” she said, shaking out her hand. With one glove tucked into her belt, Serana had her right hand free as she continually tried to cast restoration magic. She was succeeding, but it wasn’t the magic she wanted. Instead of casting magic that could’ve healed her, she just kept casting more ‘traditional’ restoration magic. Magic that burned her.

“This is impossible,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head in frustration. The two were in a familiar place, walking underneath the night sky as they travelled throughout the evening. The stars were the only source of light illuminating their path, and except for the occasional fox or hare dashing out from a bush, they were alone.

“You sure about that?” Arven asked as he raised a hand, emitting restoration magic from his hand. The magic that Serana was trying so hard to replicate.

She stared at him, a thoroughly unimpressed look on her face.

“You’re a real smartass, you know that?” She asked.

“Oh I’m well aware,” Arven responded. “Imagine if I was actually smart. I’d be insufferable.”

Serana rolled her eyes at him, focusing back on her hand. Instead of restoration magic, she summoned destruction magic. A surge of lightning erupted from her hand, crackling through the air and around her limb. Some of it got dangerously close to Arven.

“That’s… not quite right,” Arven commented.

“Hilarious,” Serana said. “No, it just feels good to do something I’m good at.”

Arven shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that.

Serana raised her arms above her head, stretching out as lightning continued to crackle from her palm. She was stretching both her muscles and her magicka, letting the magic flare out in a mostly controlled manner. After failing at spellcasting for a few hours she had an itch of sorts that she needed to scratch, with so much magicka building up in her body.

After she scratched that itch, she went right back to practising.

“This is infuriating,” she said. “I had this before when you were teaching me.”

“You managed a glow, sure. But not healing. That’s a pretty big jump,” Arven said.

“It shouldn’t be though. It should be a lot easier than this,” Serana replied. She tried once more. She went through the steps. Pooling the magicka in her hand, summoning a dull, golden glow that emerged from her skin and illuminated her fingers, then she tried to add more power to it. Change it from a powerless glow into actual restorative magic.

Once again, she failed. Shaking out her hand, she looked up to the sky and let out a long groan of frustration.

“This is stupid,” she said. “Restoration magic is stupid.”

Arven let out a slight laugh, shaking his head at her.

“Oh, what,” she asked, turning her head to him as she could feel the judgement emanating from his gaze.

“Nothing,” Arven said. “It’s just strange seeing you struggle with magic, considering how skilled you are in every other school.”

“Well, I am a vampire. This isn’t natural for me,” she replied.

Arven took a step closer, looking at her hand. “Do it again,” he said.

Serana obliged him, casting the magic once more while Arven stared intently. As soon as she mistakenly switched from the dull golden glow to ‘normal’ restoration magic, Arven had the corner of his lips turn up into a soft, understanding smile while Serana winced from the pain.

“Here, give me your hand,” Arven said as he took off one of his gloves and held out a bare hand. Serana reached out, grabbing his hand with her own. As she did, Arven then immediately cast restoration magic in the same manner that Serana was trying to.

He started off with a harmless glow, then transitioned it into proper ‘undeath restoration’ as slowly as he could, so Serana could study the way that his magicka shifted and changed into the desired end result. She stared at him afterwards, slightly amazed at how he could do it so simply. Unknown to Arven, his control and manipulation of restoration magic was masterful, rivalling Serana’s own control over other schools of magic.

“You make it seem so simple,” she said. “I can see how you did it, but seeing is one thing. Replicating it myself is another.”

Arven furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. Then, coming up with an idea, held Serana’s hand and turned her palm up. Then, with his still-covered hand, he conjured a small sphere of restoration magic. It was a similar spell to the one that he used to shield his entire body in a circle of magicka, but when he’d last used that it was living restoration. He’d changed this one to be beneficial to the undead.

Moving the small orb of light, he ‘placed’ it into Serana’s hand. “Hold onto it and try to control it, okay?”

Serana nodded, staring intently on the orb. She had her hand resting in Arven’s other hand, and whenever she was just about to lose control Arven would intervene and bring the balance of the magicka back into the right spot. The two of them stood in place for a minute or two before the magicka swirling around in that orb finally seemed to settle into a constant, steady state.

“There you go,” Arven smiled, looking at Serana’s face. The concentration faded away from her gaze as she grasped the magic with a satisfied smirk.

She looked to him, an almost proud look crossing her features. Then, understanding how the spell worked, the orb on her palm went out – snuffed like a light. Arven frowned, thinking she lost it, but a moment later and Serana’s entire body erupted with the same magic. Vibrant, chaotic restorative magics burst from Serana in the same way that Isran and Arven had done previously, yet the intensity of this was far greater than anything either of the two men had managed before.

With Serana’s immense reserves of magicka, she pushed the spell further and the entire road became illuminated by the spell. Their surroundings were all bathed in the dull golden light, with every shadow retreating back into the void.

Arven could only stare up in awe. Pushing himself as far as he could, there was no way he’d manage a spell on this scale. Not with any regular magic, at least. He even let out a barely audible word of admiration, which caused Serana’s smirk to grow even wider before she cancelled the spell, as some wildlife was getting dangerously close and she didn’t want them to get caught up and wither away.

“Not bad, right?” She asked.

“Yeah. That’s… pretty incredible,” Arven breathed back out as his eyes almost immediately acclimatised back to the darkness of the night.

“That’s me,” Serana replied. “Pretty, and incredible.”

“…That’s not what I said,” Arven clarified. “That’s definitely not what I said.”

“Hey, they’re your words. You can’t say it then take it back,” Serana said.

“I can when you twist them about,” Arven muttered.

Serana ignored that. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, signalling that they should keep moving. So they did, walking side by side down the cobblestone path. It didn’t take long for Arven to notice that he was still holding Serana’s hand after guiding her spell, and as soon as he realised it he flexed his fingers, as if to remind Serana and pull his hand away.

But she simply gripped his hand even tighter. That prompted a look of curiosity from Arven, his eyes moving to meet hers with a quirked brow. In response she just flashed that brilliant smile and gave his hand a gentler squeeze. One that provided comfort, while also showing her intent that she wasn’t planning on letting go.

So Arven relented, exhaling in a manner to act as if he was merely putting up with Serana’s antics, hiding how much he’d come to enjoy her stubbornness with these things. As he did, Serana rested her head on his shoulder as they continued to walk towards their next destination.

Sometime later and they were nearing their goal. Their journey had become slightly burdensome, as they had to move through the mountains. Thankfully the note that Arven had wrested from Isran contained some useful information. A location, and a description of a certain ritual. The ritual sounded somewhat farfetched, but the pair didn’t have much else to go off.

The location listed was, unfortunately, on the other side of the mountain range running through the centre of Southern Skyrim. There were paths through the mountains, but they were so rugged and difficult to traverse that people rarely bothered. If anything, they seemed more like smuggling routes than anything that would be practical for travelling.

But, when you had inhuman strength and resistance, that became less of an issue.

“I’m surprised that these paths even exist,” Arven said.

“If you can call them that,” Serana noted. The “path” they were walking on was less of a path, and more of an area where wildlife and the occasional traveller had trampled the vegetation down. The terrain was never flat, and they had to scale walls on occasion that required near inhuman strength.

“I can’t imagine anyone ever actually traversing this,” Arven said as he pulled himself up a near vertical cliff-face. He turned around to offer a hand to Serana as she followed him. It wasn’t something she needed, but she appreciated the gesture.

“You’d have to be desperate. Running from the law, perhaps,” Serana guessed as she used Arven’s hand to pull herself up. “Although, as crazy as this ritual sounds, being in such an irksome location makes this whole thing slightly more believable.”

Arven offered a grunt in response. Eventually they came across an actual dirt path where the terrain levelled out, and after a few more minutes of walking they came to the entrance of a cave.

“Oh look,” Arven remarked. “More caves.”

“Not a fan?” Serana asked.

“Not really. They’re dim, wet, dirty,” Arven said as he ducked down to move into the entrance of the cave. “I was hoping that something to do with the scrolls might be a bit more… I don’t know the word, elegant?”

“I’m trying to picture you in an elegant setting,” Serana said as she watched Arven crouch-walking half bent over. “Perhaps a ball, a member of a court, or a fancy dinner. For some reason, I’m struggling quite a bit.”

“Oh, bite me,” Arven retorted.

“Already did,” Serana said with a smirk.

“I swear you used to feel guilty about that,” Arven said as he kept moving forward. “Either that or all these caves are making me go crazy.”

“I think you’ve always been a little crazy, Arven,” Serana said with an apologetic tone, teasing him.

“And yet you’re the one following the crazy man. What does that say about you?” He replied.

“I’m… too kind for my own good?”

“Wow,” Arven breathed. “Living in a castle for all those years really did mess with your ego, didn’t it?” He said.

Serana stared daggers into Arven’s back, but she bit her tongue. She knew better than to take the bait. So she diverted back to their earlier topic.

“Well, we could go to the Imperial City. That’s rather fancy, from what I’ve heard,” Serana said.

“That’s also very far away.”

“We’ve got time.”

Arven paused for a moment, almost as if he was considering it. It had been a long time since he was in Cyrodiil, let alone the Imperial City.

“I don’t know. It’d feel weird going back there. I’ve spent so much time in Skyrim that it feels more natural being here now,” Arven commented. “Plus, the Dragonborn moving south would cause all sorts of political issues I want no part of. Even after this is resolved, I’m not sure if I ever want to return to that place.”

Serana smiled slightly at that response. “Good. I’ve never been a fan of Cyrodiil, to be honest,” she stated.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s a strong implication behind what you just said?” Arven asked.

“I wouldn’t have a clue, Arven,” Serana said with a coy smile.

While the entrance of the cave was dimly lit, there was a surprising amount of vegetation. Instead of stepping on dirt and stones, Arven found that he was pushing aside thick leaves and vines to move through. Not only that, but further ahead was a rather bright light.

Grunting, Arven toyed with the idea of summoning a blade to cut through the greenery. However it started to thin out before long as they continued to descend.

“Are most caves this… lush?” Serana asked. “Besides the one you found me in, and the one where we rescued the priest I can’t say I’m too familiar with them.

“Normally not, no,” Arven said. “This is definitely a step up from your cave, though.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it? Besides the gargoyles,” Serana commented.

“You didn’t see the half of it. Between the skeletons, vampires and giant spiders, I’ve got no desire to ever go back to that place.”

“Giant… spiders?” Serana asked.

“Yup. Taller than you are,” Arven said.

Serana visibly shuddered at the thought. She suddenly became rather grateful that Arven led them out another path than the one he used to find her.

“What, not a fan of spiders?” Arven asked.

“Who is?” Serana said.

“Coming from the woman who likes bats.”

“Excuse me? You did not just compare bats to gigantic spiders,” Serana said, almost sounding offended.

“I mean, they’re both pretty creepy. Bats with their leathery wings, spiders with their… well, everything,” Arven stated.

Serana scowled at him from behind, shaking her head. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she whispered to herself.

Arven had a quip on the tip of his tongue ready to respond, but found himself lost for words as the narrow passage they were in suddenly opened. The path they were walking in, barely large enough for the two to walk side by side had suddenly opened up into a wide cavern. It was similar in size to the ‘fortress’ where Dexion was being held, but it was filled with vegetation. Trees, lush greenery and running water dominated the landscape.

Not only that, but light was funnelling in from above, with various holes in the ‘ceiling’ of the cavern which let moonlight come in to illuminate the area.

Arven found himself standing in place, merely admiring the view. It was shockingly beautiful.

“Oh, wow,” Serana breathed as she stood up beside Arven. He felt her shoulder brushing against his own, and a moment later his hand was grasped. But he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“It’s… beautiful,” Serana said.

Arven didn’t respond for a moment, merely taking the time to appreciate the view and the beauty of the place. It wasn’t until he turned to look at Serana, admiring her side profile as she herself was taking in their scenery that he responded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking at her. “Beautiful.”

After a few more moments they started to descend down, towards a clearing in the centre which seemed to be the focal point of the cavern.

“Look, over there,” Serana gestured as they walked. Further down there appeared to be a shrine of some kind. Stones laid out in an obviously ritualistic fashion, along with a pedestal. As they walked, Arven noticed the sounds of wildlife. Not so much game, or larger animals, but butterflies and moths flew through the air with the moonlight reflecting off their wings.

“Why couldn’t you be buried in a place like this?” Arven asked.

“I hardly got a choice in the matter,” Serana said. “But… it certainly would’ve been a nice view to wake up to.”

“What, and I wasn’t?” Arven asked.

“You mean your sword? It wasn’t particularly pleasant, no,” Serana stated. “Plus, you were wearing that dirty helmet of yours. So it’s not like I could see you.”

“Fair point,” Arven said as he started to approach the central pedestal. Sitting on it, in a rather purposeful manner was a tool of some kind. He carefully reached out, very cognisant of his past with caves and traps, and gently picked it up. It was a simple tool, with two wooden handles that had intricate carvings and a blade that ran perpendicular from one handle to the other.

He picked it up, inspecting it, looking at it from every angle. Then he merely ended up with it resting in his hands, arms extended slightly to his front. Grasping it tight, Arven turned to Serana.

“Now what?” He said, shrugging slightly.

Serana bit her lip, supressing a laugh. “You’re an idiot.” She mumbled to herself. She pulled out the note that they took from Isran and read over it once more. She had memorised the contents, but it was more of a show for Arven.

“Now you take the draw knife, that’s what you’re holding, and carefully remove the bark of the surrounding trees. Then, the glade will allow you to read the scrolls,” Serana stated. “Or more specifically, the “Ancestors will guide the way”.

“I like to think of myself as an optimist,” Arven said, purposefully ignoring the playful scoff that came from Serana. “But this seems idiotic.”

“We don’t have a choice, do we?” Serana replied with a shrug.

Arven let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. “I suppose not. But, what do you think they mean by ancestors?”

“I have no idea. Ghosts, maybe?” Serana asked.

“It wouldn’t surprise me. I tend to attract the undead, somehow,” Arven said.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Serana smirked with one hand resting on a hip.

Walking over to a nearby tree he held the draw knife to the bark, and ever so gently scraped off some of it. The piece he cut off was barely as large as his finger.

“I think you’ll need more than that,” Serana said.

Arven sighed. “I feel like a spriggan is going to jump out and attack me at any second,” he said before holding the draw blade up again. Carving off a bigger piece of bark, he sat there and waited. And waited. Nothing seemed to happen.

“More?” Arven asked, but Serana looked as dumbfounded as he did.

“Maybe? It just said use the knife, and you’ll be able to read the scroll.”

“So, should I try it?” Arven asked. As he spoke, he noticed a rather large moth had come down to rest on his arm. The pattern on its wings was unique, and in a way mesmerising. Then, a second later and another moth had come to rest on his other arm.

“I wonder how you even read them. Is it text? Symbols?” Serana pondered.

“Symbols, mainly. You don’t really read the scroll. It sort of… imprints the information onto you. At least it did with me,” Arven explained.

Serana turned to him, dumb founded for a moment. Of course she had never seen the inside of a scroll, the same as the vast majority of the world. It was too dangerous, not to mention rare to simply have one.

“I had forgotten that you’ve done this before. How did you do it last time without getting injured?” Serana asked.

Arven shook his head. “I didn’t really read it. There was a wound in time created by the same Elder Scroll. By reading it in the same location, I was able to see the past.”

Serana blinked at him a few times. It was rare for her to not be able to understand something at all.

Arven raised his hands. “Hey, I don’t get it. People just tell me to do stuff and I do it.”

“Hmm. Well, we need information, not… whatever the scroll did for you last time.” As she spoke, she raised a hand, gently shooing away some more moths that had started to fly around the pair. Even more had landed on Arven, with some now resting on his helmet.

“Maybe more bark?” Arven asked. He started to walk over to another tree, but stopped halfway. There was almost a swarm of moths surrounding him now. Not so much that he couldn’t see, but they were obstructing his path.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. Is there a Daedric Prince of Moths I’ve offended somehow?” He sighed.

Serana paused, studying the moths. They weren’t just flying in any random pattern. They were swarming around Arven, with some breaking off towards the centre before returning to him. They were flying with a purpose, a single mind trying to guide him somewhere. She’d heard of something like this before, but it had been so long since she’d studied such things that it didn’t come to her at first.

“Ancestor Moths,” Serana whispered.

Arven blinked at her. “I don’t think moths worship their ancestors in the same way Nords do, Serana,” he said.

Serana rolled her eyes. “I swear you say these things to get on my nerves,” she remarked with a smirk. Arven’s grin confirmed that fact. “No, they’re called ancestor moths I believe. “The Ancestors will guide the way.”

“I’m meant to follow moths?” Arven asked. “You can’t be serious.”

“I think you are, yes. There’s actually a cult. ‘Moth Priests’, remember?” Serana said.

As soon as he heard ‘moth priest’ it all clicked in Arven’s head. He cursed himself slightly for not thinking of it earlier. “You know, I knew that they were called Moth Priests, but I never questioned why,” he said. Looking around, he admired the moths swirling around him now, trying to spur him forward. “I guess it’s a pretty fitting name.”

Turning to the direction in which they were prompting him, Arven followed the moths. They continued ‘pushing’ him forward until he was standing on a pedestal of sorts. Looking straight up, he could see the sky of Skyrim through one of the holes in the ceiling of the cavern. As the moths flew around him they picked up in speed, cascading faster and faster.

The moonlight reflected off their wings. Some of it shone in Arven’s eyes, and he found himself blinking to try and focus. But he simply couldn’t. His vision started to blur, and whenever he kept them open bright lights were flickering in and out of his sight. Everything in the background started to shimmer, distort. His eyes were filled with light and it was overwhelming.

Seeing him almost disoriented, Serana wanted to step up but she stopped herself. More moths had come down, and they had almost formed a barrier. “Are you okay in there, Arven?”

“I… yeah, I think so. I just can’t see properly,” he said. “The moths are doing something to my vision.”

Grabbing the scroll on his back, Arven held it out before himself. While the rest of his vision was distorting past the point of being useful, the Elder Scroll was perfectly clear. “Well… here goes nothing.”

Serana found herself fighting the urge to step forward and warn Arven. Elder Scrolls were dangerous, and she knew the risks that someone took to read them. But they both understood that. And if anyone could do it, she knew that it would be him.

Holding the scroll before him, Arven took a deep breath. “I really hope this isn’t as bad as last time,” his whispered to himself before he opened it.

The fabric on the Elder Scroll was alien. Unintelligible. It shifted on the page, twisting about, writhing in a way that made his brain hurt. It made him confused, irritable, angry. He found himself trying to make sense of what he saw, but he couldn’t. And the longer he looked at it, the harder he found it to look away.

However, parts of the paper started to shift. It shimmered, and the moths surrounding him flew even faster. They refracted the light off their wings, their bodies. The light shone through the paper, and somehow forced the unintelligible writing to conform to their will. Arven didn’t see words, or meaning, but an outline of something.

A map.

After a few long, painful seconds, the map didn’t progress anymore. But he knew what he needed. Closing the scroll, he hooked it onto his back in one move and extended a hand out to Serana, his head and eyes staying forward, locked onto the image of the map that was being burnt into his sight.

She paused for a moment before understanding. Holding out another Elder Scroll for him, the near impenetrable wall of moths gave way, a passage forming where Arven could grab the scroll. He read it, and it added to the first. The map started to become whole, and he knew where he was looking. It was as if he was soaring on the clouds miles up in the sky, looking down on the province of Skyrim.

After taking the final scroll every piece meshed together. His vision had been overtaken by the map as if it was imprinted on his eyes. All he could see was the location of Auriel’s Bow, and that fact was now burned into his brain. Along with a name.

As quickly as they had come to him, the moths started to leave. They flew off, and Arven found his eyes going black momentarily. He fell to one knee, blinking rapidly as his vision wavered and slowly started to come back, with the ground before him seeming like a pinprick of light a mile away.

When the moths had left Serana was immediately at his side, hands on his shoulders. “Hey, Arven. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Arven said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly blinking as light started to fill his eyes once more. It took a moment, but he could eventually see. He turned to Serana, offering her a smile to soothe the worried look on her face.

“I’m all good, thank you,” he said as he went to stand up.

“That didn’t look pleasant,” Serana said.

“It didn’t feel pleasant either,” Arven said. “But it worked.”

Serana’s eyes lit up. “You know where the bow is?”

“Yeah. I saw it, and I know the name. Darkfall Cave,” he said.

Serana frowned slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that. It doesn’t sound familiar, at least.”

“I guess that just makes it a good place to hide something,” Arven said. He blinked a few more times, still trying to adjust his eyesight. “It just had to be another cave, though.”

“Perhaps all the best things are hidden away in caves?” Serana pondered.

Arven looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” He asked with a smirk. “I know where it is, though. It shouldn’t be too hard to get to.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I honestly wasn’t-“ Serana cut herself off, her head darting back towards the entrance of the cave. She heard something. Footsteps, followed by a loud crack of a branch as someone, or something stepped on it. As soon as she looked, her expression darkened within an instant.

Standing near the opening of the cave a band of ragged, worn-down bandits were staring down at Arven and Serana. They had hate in their eyes. Not only that, but hunger. A deep, desperate hunger that addled the brain and defied all reason. A hunger that was all too obvious in their red eyes.

Serana cursed under her breath, standing to both feet which prompted Arven to do the same. He looked in the direction she was facing and caught on rather quickly.

“Seriously?” He breathed. “More of them?”

“I don’t know these ones, though. They aren’t members of the court.” Serana muttered back before she called out. “Who are you?”

The vampires looked confused. There was a surprising amount. Arven counted seven, all standing next to the other. They were different races. A Bosmer, an Imperial. A couple of Nords as well. The others had hoods on, and he couldn’t make out their features enough to tell, but they weren’t elves. But they all looked terrible. Skinny and gaunt, their faces hollow.

None of them responded to Serana’s question.

“What did he offer you?” Serana asked. She didn’t seem threatened in the slightest. More, annoyed.

“Shut it bitch,” one of the vampires yelled out as they stepped forward.

Arven clenched his fist at his side, but Serana merely scoffed. “Money? Power? Or just a feast? Did he tell you what happened to the last vampires he sent our way?” No answer came from any of the vampires, so Serana decided to demonstrate.

Holding an arm out to one side she amassed a pool of magicka. Then, aiming it at a rather large rock sitting a dozen or so meters away, she fired a bolt of lightning. The sound that echoed around the cavern was loud enough to disorient Arven for a split second, and when he looked at her target, it had been disintegrated. In such a casual motion she had summoned enough destructive power to obliterate a person, and she didn’t even need to take a breath.

Any sane person would’ve run, but the vampires stood their ground.

“They’re mad,” Arven said.

“No. They just don’t have a choice. They either kill us, or father kills them,” Serana spat. She seemed almost remorseful, and Arven couldn’t help pitying the vampires. Just a little bit.

“They can’t run?” Arven asked.

“They wouldn’t, their pride won’t let them,” Serana responded, keeping her words short as she stared them all down.

“And what if they did? Would they survive?” Arven asked.

Serana was confused, looking to Arven for a second. But she remembered what he did back at the keep. The way he made vampire hunters, men and women who stare down some of the most frightening creatures around, cower and flee before him.

“No,” Serana said. “Father’s influence reaches far. They’d be dead before the end of the month.”

Arven exhaled, his chest deflating ever so slightly.

“I’m tired of killing, Serana,” he whispered.

Serana stepped forward, more magicka pooling in her hands. “You don’t have to take part in his, Arven. This is my family’s doing. Just rest.”

But Arven shook his head, stepping up to her side. He summoned a longbow in his left hand, and a second later he had shadowy tendrils running up his right forearm, ready to be summoned into arrows at a moment’s notice.

“No, that’s not fair on you. We’re in this together, I’m not about to stand back and make you fight on my behalf,” Arven said.

Serana didn’t respond, but she looked to him and nodded. Turning back to their ambushers, they each heard the primal, guttural growl of hunger and hate from the vampires as they started sprinting down towards them.

Each one was on the edge of being feral. Starving. And Harkon was no doubt using that against them. That made them very, very dangerous.

Unfortunately for them, Serana was one of the most dangerous vampires in all of Skyrim. Possibly rivalling her father in strength. But she wasn’t the one they should be worrying about. By far, the most dangerous person in that cavern was Arven.

Seeing the way that their vampirism overtook their senses caused a conflict to stir in his stomach. There was disgust at how they were giving in, yet he knew that struggle now. And without knowing how they ended up like this, he found himself pitying them ever so slightly. Yet, above all he still hated that thirst within their eyes, that thirst which overwhelmed them and turned them into beasts.

And he refused to succumb to such a fate himself. So, as the vampires charged at him, some with daggers and others summoning destruction magic in open hands, he inhaled deeply. He felt that familiar stirring deep within his soul, and he decided to let them out. Just for a little bit.

Exhaling softly, he whispered a shout.

“Fiik Lo Sah”.

As Arven took two steps back, a mirror image of him sprinted forward. Although it was undoubtedly not real, as the copy’s body was ethereal and shimmered it served as a powerful distraction. Especially when it was charging at you with swords drawn.

Even Serana paused for a second, and several vampires charging down either aimed their spells at the phantom, or readied their blades to fight. Each one made a mistake.

As two vampires moved to engage the phantom Arven drew his bow. It was the same ethereal bow he used for dragons, but considering his current physiology it was no harder to draw than a shortbow. Just as a vampire swung at the phantom he’d summoned, a large arrow pierced directly through their head and ended up burying itself into stone, with only the fletching remaining visible. The vampire instantly fell to the floor, lifeless. Their partner, who was readying to attack the phantom looked down at the real Arven and cursed, trying to duck to the side as another arrow was just about to come flying their way.

They succeeded, rolling to the side before scrambling to their feet. But as soon as they did they were struck in the chest by lightning and Serana’s attack sent them flying, slamming into a stone wall with a sickening thud.

The rest of the vampires panicked, but they had no choice. They all sprinted down towards their target. One of them summoned ice magics to the best of their ability, causing a torrent of hail to fall directly in front of Arven and Serana to try and blind them. When they emerged each one was bearing fangs. One had even picked up the body of a fallen vampire, using it as a shield to attempt to block an incoming arrow or blast.

Serana pooled up more magicka than before in response, holding both hands together as she prepared to fend them all off, but had to stop herself as soon as she saw Arven rush out in front of her. She barely caught the sound of more words before she found that she wasn’t needed in this fight at all.

“Su Grah Dun!”

The bow in his hand had twisted into a long, wicked blade, and within mere seconds Arven had cut his way through the crowd. The first vampire carrying their ‘companion’ tossed the corpse at Arven and held out their hand, readying to explode the corpse and mar the field with gore and blood. They were just too slow.

Arven side-stepped the corpse and leaped towards them, seeing the shock on their face before he separated their head from their shoulders in one swift, efficient strike. Behind that vampire two more charged at him, each carrying a dull, rusted blade of some kind. He parried them both as his sword moved with an inhuman speed, feeling as if a surge of wind was swirling around him and pushing his blade forward faster than he’d be able to under his own power.

As Serana watched, it seemed as if a child picking up their sword for the first time had been forced to fight a seasoned warrior. Each vampire was slain no less than a second after they were within range of Arven’s sword. While the Arven she had met many weeks ago, back in the cave was one that gave her pause, this one was entirely different.

She could’ve beaten Arven back then, if she had to. But now? In melee combat at least, she wouldn’t stand a chance. As soon as she realised it was over, Arven was walking back towards her. He had dismissed his sword, and had a look of sorrow mixed with disgust on his face.

“That… what was that?” She asked.

Arven looked to her, curious. “What do you mean?”

“You weren’t that fast before,” she said. “Not even close. Not when you fought Garan.”

“Oh, right.” Arven turned back, looking at the seven corpses now scattered around the glade. He felt a hint of shame. The glade was so beautiful, yet now it had been stained with a waste of life and blood smeared across the grass and rocks on the path.

“I don’t know who those people were, but they were suffering. They seemed borderline rabid. I just wanted to put them down as quickly as I could,” Arven said.

Serana looked to him, not interrupting but her eyes were telling him that he hadn’t answered her question.

“I’m starting to get used to the souls within me. Every day, I’ve made an effort to let them breathe just for a moment. Extending it longer and longer each time, feeling the way they change me,” Arven exhaled as he spoke. It was still uncomfortable for him to speak about, but it was much easier than before.

“It helps, surprisingly. It calms me down and gives me something to focus on if I’m feeling jittery, anxious. Hungry. It feels like they’re talking to me, as crazy as that sounds. Dozens of souls writhing about in my body,” Arven continued.

“When I first turned, I was worried they’d try and ‘take over’. Being petrified of this thing that tried to kill me, then all of a sudden I could hear it inside of me. There was no escape, and I locked them all away. But, I’m getting control over it. Slowly, but…” Arven trailed off, looking at his palm before he clenched a fist.

“I’m surprised. Normally I can tell when you’re thinking about them, your body reacts in such a noticeable way,” Serana responded. It was painfully obvious when they first met, the thought of a dragon was enough to make Arven stiffen and have his heart rate rise through the roof.

Arven had half a smile come to the edge of his mouth.

“I feel like I’ve been approaching this the wrong way, all this time. I need to understand them. They’re never going away, and I can use this,” he said, his fist clenching tighter as he felt the power surging in his arm. The unnatural, inhuman strength. “I just wish I could talk to one.”

“What do you mean?” Serana asked.

“A dragon. There’s one dragon I’ve talked to, but they’re different. They’re… they’ve overcome their nature, and now they simply speak like a scholar.  Trying to give me life lessons, but they’ve changed from how they were. Not to mention, they live in the most arduous of places to reach. I need to know how they used to think. How these dragons I’ve conquered think, and what they want from me,” Arven explained.

He had been thinking on this for a while, but he kept his thoughts to himself. It was a bad habit the warrior had. Not to mention, he found those thoughts to be pointless, as aside from Paarthurnax there wasn’t another dragon he could talk to.

“Well,” Serana started, unsure if she should continue her line of thought. “What if there was a way to talk to one?”

Arven turned to her, frowning. “What do you mean? There’s only one other dragon I know, but I tricked him and forced him to betray Alduin. I could summon him, but I doubt he’d come. And if he did, he’d likely want to fight,” Arven said. His experience with Odahviing was rather unpleasant. After tricking the dragon and capturing him, the dragon claimed that Arven didn’t have the soul of a Dovah, and stated that if the two were ever to meet again, that he’d force a battle between them. One which, according to the dragon, Arven would lose.

“Not to mention, back then I wasn’t afraid to let him know what I thought of his kind,” Arven muttered under his breath.

“There’s another, Arven. The one you fought back in the Soul Cairn,” she said.

Arven frowned, his eyes narrowing. “That dragon should be dead. I don’t remember much, but I remember slaying the damn thing,” he said in a harsh tone.

“He came back after you passed out. It seems he’s cursed to live there forever,” Serana said.

“You’re serious? How did you survive?” Arven asked, disbelief on his face?

“He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to talk, funnily enough,” Serana responded. “In fact, he helped me. He carried us back to the entrance to the Soul Cairn.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Arven said. Everything about this seemed ridiculous to him. He knew dragons were normally immortal, but he killed it. It shouldn’t have been able to come back, but to come back and help Serana save him? “Seriously, please tell me you’re joking. That’s all kinds of wrong.”

Serana just shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He said he wished to speak to the first person to ever defeat him. Maybe he’s your best bet.”

Arven quietened. It was a good opportunity, that was for sure. However, his desire to talk with a dragon had become very real in a rather short amount of time, and he was having doubts.

Turning back to the carnage of their battle earlier, he shook his head slightly. “We need to clean this up first.” It was getting harder to ignore. Even though they were vampires, he could still smell their blood.

“That’s a good idea. A place like this is so serene, I feel bad for fighting here,” Serana said, not pushing the earlier subject any further. The two then wordlessly gathered the corpses. It wasn’t clean work, and Arven felt strange offering a burial of sorts for vampires. But he didn’t want to leave the glade stained like this.

After gathering the corpses, Arven pulled back his hood.

“You might want to step back a bit, Serana,” he said as he opened his mouth and inhaled. He felt the stirring within himself once more, and he held it there just for a moment. The pressure built up within his diaphragm, and he felt their strength being funnelled into his shout once more.

“Yol!”

A burst of intensely hot fire erupted from his mouth, encasing the corpses within seconds. They all caught alight, but the flames were so hot that they disintegrated after a mere second. Only ash remained, and that ash slowly started to be swept away by the light breeze running through the area.

Serana watched, once again amazed at the strength Arven had. While it was a simple shout, it sounded more draconic than before. It was nowhere near as strong as his shout in the Soul Cairn, but even with that one word the fire felt more intense than when he had shouted back in front of her old home.

Arven turned back to face her. “Shall we get going then?” He asked.

Serana looked away, taking in the beauty of the cavern once more. Her hood had been forced back during their battle, and her long, gorgeous hair was gently blowing behind her figure. She admired the beauty of the glade, and felt a rather strong desire to cultivate something like this of her own. On a smaller scale, of course, but she wanted to create something beautiful.

“I suppose you have rubbed off on me somewhat, mother,” she muttered beneath her breath. Then she turned to Arven, flashing him a gentle smile. A smile that only grew as she saw Arven’s pupils dilate, and his expression change when he was once again stunned by that smile which was reserved for him. A privilege he would never take for granted.

The two walked out of the glade, taking their time. A few moths circled around the pair once more as they walked towards the exit, but by the time they emerged into the night air they had left them behind.

“So, where to next?” Serana asked. “Off to that cave?”

“Yeah, but we’ll pass by home first. I’m running low on supplies,” Arven said, obvious referring to the blood he carried on his belt.

“Works for me, I could use a comfortable bed,” Serana said.

“Is the guest bed really any good? It sort of came with the furniture, and Lydia isn’t the type to complain,” Arven asked.

“Who said I’d be sleeping there?” Serana replied, looking at Arven with a childish smirk.

Arven looked back at her, his eyes showing no emotion before he shook his head slightly. “I’m not responding to that,” he muttered. “But, there’s something I have to do first,” Arven said.

Serana looked to him, raising a brow. “What’s that?”

“Something I’d really rather not do,” he replied.

It took a few minutes for Arven to reach an appropriate spot, but slightly further down the mountain he found an opening. It was still secluded, but there was enough room for what he had in mind. Any further up the mountain and this wouldn’t have worked.

Standing out in the opening, Serana was behind him in the tree line. She sat on a rock, watching him intently, prepared for anything that might happen. Yet she was horribly curious herself.

Arven wasn’t sure how he knew the dragon’s name, they didn’t exactly exchange pleasantries. But whenever he fought a dragon, he came to know who they were.

Inhaling deeply, Arven looked to the sky. Then, letting those fires burn within him once more, he shouted into the void.

“DURNEHVIIR!”

Notes:

Hello again! It's been quite a while. Sorry for the long hiatus (again...), I had to take a break due to work over the last six months. But now I'm back, and I've gotten back into writing! If you're still here with me then thank you very much, and as always I hope you've enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter 24: Acceptance

The sky split open, and for a moment the realms of life and death were mixed together as one.

Oh, this was a bad idea, Arven couldn’t help but think to himself. But it was far too late to back out now.

In the middle of the previously serene and calm night sky, a fissure had formed. A second later and that fissure had cracked, and the night sky was suddenly illuminated with the light from the Soul Cairn. Light seemed to be both sucked into the fissure and ejected from it, that familiar purple glow spreading its influence throughout the heavens.

As Arven and Serana both looked up in awe, they were met with the sound of a deafening roar. Durnehviir had heard Arven’s call, and he had answered.

The two stood there, shocked as they gazed upwards. Arven was almost rooted in place, but for a good reason. He had his eyes locked onto an undead dragon which had torn its way through that fissure and was now circling through the air, slowly lowering towards the ground. Even from a distance Arven could see the decay clinging to the dragon’s body. Wings with punctured holes, and scales that seemed as if they were in the midst of being liquified.

Serana’s shock was for an entirely different level. The magnitude of magic that she had just witnessed was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her mother spent decades, perhaps centuries looking for a way to open a portal to the Soul Cairn.

And Valerica succeeded. The use of potent reagents, including the blood of a Vampire Lord, mixed in with the knowledge of a master necromancer managed a portal large enough for a human to walk through. That was an incredible achievement, no matter how you looked at it.

Yet, she had just witnessed a man tear the heavens asunder to create a portal that dwarfed anything she could have imagined. And he did it all with nothing but the power of his voice.

Arven found that he naturally took a fighting stance, one foot in front of the other with his arm outstretched preparing to summon either a bow or a sword. He had to fight that urge, exhaling deeply as he simply watched his ‘guest’ come down to meet him.

He waited for the dragon to land, but Durnehviir continued to circle in the sky. He ascended rapidly before then diving, levelling out in a manner that shouldn’t have been possible considering how damaged his body was. Afterwards, another overwhelmingly loud roar echoed throughout the area, bouncing off the mountains until it was rattling Arven’s skull.

Wonderful. As if the hole in the sky wasn’t obvious enough, Arven thought.

As Durnehviir landed, Arven did his best to stand up straight, pulling his hood back to ensure that his face could be seen without any fear stricken across it. He had gotten better recently, but coming face to face with a dragon like this was still terrifying.

Not to mention, this particular dragon had actually killed him.

“Ah,” Durnehviir breathed out as the ground beneath him quaked, shortly after landing. He walked towards Arven slowly, stopping only when they were close enough that Arven could smell the stench coming from the dragon.

“Qahnaarin,” the dragon spoke.

“Durnehviir,” Arven responded, a fist being tightly clenched at his side. “I was told you wanted to speak with me.”

The dragon looked past Arven for a moment, finding Serana standing slightly further back, encased in the shadows of the treeline.

“I see the message was passed on. My thanks, Daughter of Coldharbour,” Durnehviir said.

Serana nodded in response, but no words left her mouth. She didn’t feel like she should intrude on this conversation. Truth be told, she wouldn’t know what to say even if she did.

“It seemed like you wanted to speak with the whole of Skyrim a moment earlier,” Arven said, his ears still ringing.

“Forgive me. It has been so long since I have tasted the air of the land of the living, I simply couldn’t resist. I hope you can look past an old dragon simply savouring the moment,” Durnehviir said, his face changing shape slightly in what Arven could only assume was a smile.

Arven wasn’t sure what to say next. He wanted this opportunity, and asked for it, but the words weren’t coming to him.

“So, let us speak. But first,” Durnehviir said moments before he straightened out his spine, his head looming high over Arven. Then, he angled his head down, snout aimed at the floor between the two of them. It almost seemed like a bow.

“Qahnaarin. You are the first to ever defeat me in battle, and I must offer my congratulations,” Durnehviir said.

“Why did you fight me? You… why aren’t you fighting me now?” Arven asked. The curiosity was getting the better of him. He’d never talked to a dragon he had fought before.

“The hostility in that place was necessary. I was, am bound to an oath. An oath you have granted me a reprieve from, for a limited time,” Durnehviir stated, looking upwards. The rift in the sky was still open, seeming like a mirror that both reflected the light of Skyrim while offering a glimpse into another world.

“Not only that, but I believe in civility among seasoned warriors, and I find your ear worthy of my words, Qahnaarin,” Durnehviir continued.

“What does that mean? ‘Qahnaarin’?” Arven asked.

“Ah, of course. Our tongue comes naturally to you. You breathe it, yet you do not logically understand it. Qahnaarin means vanquisher in my tongue. Our tongue,” Durnehviir explained.

“I’m not sure if that’s fitting,” Arven replied. “I might’ve bested you, but you killed me all the same. If anything, it was a tie.”

“A tie after fighting a battle at a rather grievous disadvantage. I know what the Soul Cairn does to a mortal. If one of us was to be the victor, it would be you,” Durnehviir stated. “You are a worthy foe, and an excellent warrior.”

While Arven felt a level of confusion, not to mention disgust at talking with a dragon, there was another part of him that accepted and acknowledged the dragon’s words. He almost found a sense of pride in them. Not only that, but a small part of him respected Durnehviir.

“You are a worthy foe yourself. For what it’s worth, you’re the first to ever kill me,” Arven replied.

A low, rumbling hum came from deep within Durnehviir’s throat. If Arven didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that it almost sounded like laughter.

“Your words do me great honour, Qahnaarin. You have the soul and the skill of a Dovah, that cannot be denied. However…” Durnehviir said before trailing off. His eyes were staring into Arven, and Arven felt like he was being inspected. Judged.

“Is something the matter?” Arven asked.

“Forgive me for my ignorance, I have yet to have the privilege of talking to a Dovahkiin. You have the soul of a Dovah, I can feel it. Yet, you do not have the heart,” Durnehviir said.

During this conversation Serana felt as if she was dreaming. While she had seen countless things in her long lifetime, seeing a man so casually converse with a dragon was something she never would have expected.

“I have the heart of a human. Well, a cursed human at the moment,” Arven said.

“Yes, I can sense that. I am rather fond of necromancy myself, and I could feel the stench of undeath upon you as soon as you called my name. But that is not what I meant. You fight against your nature,” Durnehviir pronounced.

Arven didn’t respond, but he set his jaw, his expression providing the answer the dragon was seeking.

“I felt it during our fight. Initially your Thu’um was strong, for a mortal. Yet it was nothing more than an imitation. I wondered if you hadn’t mastered your abilities, however your final shout was more powerful than any I have heard from another Dovah,” Durnehviir pondered. “You do not accept this power. Why?”

Arven sighed. He was somewhat surprised at how easily Durnehviir had him figured out, but it made sense. He could fool almost any human with his shouts. Any man using the Thu’um at any level was astonishing. However to a dragon, it would have seemed like a child imitating true magic with common tricks.

“Because,” Arven started before he stopped himself. He pursed his lips, inhaling and exhaling softly before once again facing down the dragon. “I despise dragons. I despise everything they stand for,” he claimed. He expected some retaliation, or reaction from Durnehviir. Yet he received nothing.

“Dragons have brought nothing but misery and destruction to Skyrim. To myself. Ever since I was granted this ‘power’ I’ve lived in near constant terror. I’m a man fighting mythical beasts with the power to raze down kingdoms, beasts that have no consideration for human life or anything we have built in this land over millennia. I’ve seen dragons murder, maim, destroy everything they touch, and you ask why I don’t accept this power? It’s because this power stands against everything I’ve fought to protect my entire life. And I refuse to let it corrupt me.”

As he spoke, Arven’s words grew more and more heated, spitting them out like poison. After he finished he found himself exhaling deeply, forcibly trying to calm himself. Serana felt the urge to intervene and say something, yet she couldn’t. It wasn’t her place, not right now.

There was a long silence, hanging thick in the air. It filled Arven with even more tension than before, but when it was broken, he found himself to be surprised.

“You are correct, Dovahkiin. Dragons do as you say. We destroy, we murder. It is in our nature to do so,” Durnehviir asked.

“Fuck that,” Arven said. “How can you use your ‘nature’ as an excuse like that? It’s a decision you make. A decision you’ve all made.”

“You misunderstand me. I do not hide behind my words as an excuse. I am simply stating a fact. Dragons destroy. As naturally as the wind blows, or humans breathe. Dragons destroy, and we conquer. It is what we do, what we were made to do,” Durnehviir said.

“We do not see terror in these things. We see the natural way of the world, with dragons residing at the top above all other creatures. And in that, we do as you say. We murder, we conquer. All, except for you,” Durnehviir continued, with curiosity dripping from his voice.

“I’m not a dragon,” Arven said.

“You are. You are a dovah, as much as I am. You simply have a different shell, and you are mortal. Perhaps that is why you are so different,” Durnehviir pondered.

“Having the souls of dragons inside of me does not change who I am,” Arven stated as if it were fact.

“What do you mean by this?” Durnehviir asked.

Arven paused, frowning. “You know what my power is, right? I kill dragons and I claim their souls. I can feel them writhing about within me even now.”

“Yes, you have the power all Dovah have. Yet, I do not believe you understand how it works,” Durnehviir said.

“What do you mean?” Arven replied.

“Do you know where the Dovah came from, millennia ago?” Durnehviir asked.

Arven nodded slowly in response. “Akatosh,” he said.

“Akatosh,” Durnehviir confirmed. “We were all born of Akatosh. Each dragon, each soul a fragment of the God that created us all that time ago. When souls are absorbed by another, these souls aren’t individual pieces, Dovahkiin. They are parts of a whole. And as they shift around, from one vessel to another, they are absorbed. Joined together, not living individually.”

“What are you trying to say?” Arven asked. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if the dragon’s words were ringing with more truth than he would have thought. As if naturally, he knew what was being explained to him.

“When a drop of rain falls into the ocean, does that droplet still exist in itself? Or is it simply absorbed into something larger? Does it still retain its own shape, its own identity, or has it merely become a part of something greater than it used to be?” Durnehviir asked.

No words escaped Arven’s mouth. He looked inwards for a moment, feeling the familiar energy in his body.

“You conquer every dragon you slay. You don’t just take their power, or merely a part of them, but you absorb them. Entirely,” Durnehviir continued. “You do not have the souls of dragons inside of you. You have the soul of a dragon. And that soul merely grows with every victory you claim.”

Arven turned to the side. He cursed under his breath, taking a few paces while refusing to meet the eyes of the dragon.

“That can’t be right. I am nothing like them,” Arven said as if he was trying to convince himself.

“Are you certain of that, Dovahkiin?” Durnehviir asked, putting emphasis on Arven’s title.

“Of course I am! If I was a dragon, then I’d be just like you said. I would want nothing else but power and destruction,” Arven claimed.

“It is possible. That is the nature of dragons, as I have said. Yet perhaps there is room for… flexibility. Exceptions, to the rule of nature,” Durnehviir pondered.

“You can’t seriously believe that I’ll accept that, after you confirmed everything I claimed you to be,” Arven retorted.

“I can,” Durnehviir replied. “Or perhaps, you are hiding your other true nature. That of a blood sucking beast, subject to nothing but their desire for blood and carnage, vampire?”

Arven froze. Durnehviir’s words cut through him. In an instant, he realised something. An internal contradiction that he had been refusing to face.

“That’s not…” Arven started before his words failed him.

“Not the same?” Durnehviir asked, completing Arven’s sentence. “You are a vampire hunter, are you not?”

“…How did you know that?” Arven asked.

“By the weapon you carried. Your manner of fighting,” Durnehviir explained. “I have lived for millennia, Qahnaarin, and in that time I have learnt a thing or two. So tell me, why is it that the vampire hunter travels with a vampire? Is she not subject to her nature as dragons are? A blood crazed fiend?”

“Don’t bring Serana into this. She is nothing like that. A woman like her has far more good in her heart than a dragon could ever comprehend,” Arven spat.

“So tell me, why is it that she overcame her nature, yet you cannot?” Durnehviir asked.

“It’s different. Other vampires have done the same, yet I know no dragon that-” Arven said before he cut himself off. He did know of a dragon who had overcome their nature. The dragon that had taught him many a thing at the Throat of the World, yet he never appreciated the effort that Paarthurnax had summoned to do such a thing.                                                       

A low, deep grumble came from Durnehviir’s throat. “It seems you have remembered something, Dovahkiin.” With slow, thundering steps, the dragon approached Arven, only stopping when he was so close that Arven could reach out and touch the dragon’s snout. From that distance, every detail of the rotting flesh and scales was painfully obvious.

“Allow me to tell you something, Qahnaarin. People are subject to their nature. It is what guides them, what drives them. Yet, people have the power to change. Either through extreme challenges placed upon them, or challenges that they define for themselves,” Durnehviir said. He had Arven’s full attention. Not only that, but Serana had found herself entranced by the conversation at the same time.

“Dovah were rarely challenged. We conquered all, and did not see men and mer as anything worthy of our consideration. It was not until we were confronted during the war that some of us challenged ourselves enough to change. You, on the other hand, have lived a life of challenges. I can see it on your face, in your soul. You have the power and the strength to define your own character. Your nature defines you as a dragon, yes. You inherently have a drive to win, to conquer. Yet you can define the way in which that is formed,” Durnehviir continued. Arven didn’t dare interrupt a single word escaping from the dragon’s mouth now.

“Dovah conquered through violence. You, however, are bound by no such curse that compels you to do so,” Durnehviir concluded.

The clearing was met with a stunned silence that dragged on. Both Serana and Arven were entirely lost for words. At one point Arven opened his mouth to speak, but found he was merely doing so in an attempt to fill the silence. He didn’t know what to say.

“Look within, Qahnaarin. Do you truly feel the souls of those you have conquered? Or do you merely feel a part of yourself that you have locked away for all this time?” Durnehviir asked.

Arven locked eyes with the dragon. He didn’t want to delve within himself once more. Thinking about it brought back horrid memories of the times where he had been forced to. Fighting Isran, and fighting against himself after he turned. But, if he didn’t, he would be stuck like this forever.

He clenched a fist, exhaling deeply while muttering a single curse beneath his breath. Then, with closed eyes he searched within. He found that barrier, that mental lock. A prison where he had been holding away an untold power that hung above him, paralysing him with fear whenever he felt its presence.

He could feel it stirring, writhing away. Yet, when he dispelled all the lies he had told himself, he knew the truth. He had never held away the souls of dragons as prisoners within. He had been containing a part of himself he refused to acknowledge. With his vampirism he was forced to accept what he had become. But being the Dragonborn? He could hide that for as long as he wanted.

Even when he had tricked himself into hearing the voices of other dragons, he was merely locking away intrusive thoughts he didn’t want to assign to his own psyche.

Finally relenting, and finally deciding to stop lying to himself, he inhaled deeply and broke down that barrier. The power from all those souls, his soul could suddenly be felt within every fibre of his being. He felt the nature of a dragon permeating throughout him. It invaded every corner of his body, every crevasse within his brain. He felt the desires known by all dragons. That desire to conquer. To ultimately win.

With his eyes closed tight, Arven did his best to endure the monumental shift within himself. His soul, which had grown in power so drastically from his victories – power which he had rightfully claimed had free reign within his body. Yet, has Arven exhaled, he found that he still had full control over it all.

There was a shift within himself. Opening his eyes, Arven found that when he looked at Durnehviir once more, there was no longer a hidden fear clinging to his gut. No, there was the respect he felt earlier, for a fellow warrior who had bested him. There was also a desire, a desire to fight and to claim victory once and for all over the beast.

Yet, with an ever so subtle grin, Arven simply pushed that aside. He acknowledged that desire, yet when he compared it to the thirst he had felt as a vampire? He found he could ignore it with ease. He looked to Durnehviir, making eye contact again.

The dragon responded not with words, but with a deep, low growl of what Arven could sense as approval.

“Good, Dovahkiin,” Durnehviir said. Suddenly, the dragon took a few steps back, his ragged wings dragging on the floor, scales even flaking away from his body before he stood up tall and proud. He kept his eyes locked on Arven.

“Now, I believe we have missed an integral part in any meeting between dovah,” the dragon stated. Arven was confused for a moment before he remembered his first meeting with Paarthurnax. Surprisingly there was no panic at what he was about to face.

“Serana, step to the side,” Arven called out before he planted his feet. She did so, although she didn’t know why at first.

“By long tradition, the elder speaks first,” Durnehviir claimed. Then, he shouted.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

A torrent of fire erupted from Durnehviir’s mouth, washing over Arven within an instant. Serana shouted out, yet the sounds of her voice were washed away by the force erupting from the dragon’s throat. She wanted to move forward, but the intense heat was far too strong for her to approach.

The shout lasted a few moments before dying away, leaving Arven standing in place with a single hand extended. A shimmering ward was held out before him, glistening as flames danced on the ground at the warrior’s feet. Serana couldn’t help but release a long sigh of relief.

“Traditionally, a dovah is to fully accept the shout of another. Not defend against it,” Durnehviir said.

“Traditionally, dragons are able to handle fire. Vampires, not so much,” Arven responded with a cocky smirk.

A small humorous rumble escaped from Durnehviir. “A point well made, Qahnaarin,” the dragon said before bracing himself. Arven lowered his hand, inhaling deeply as he felt all that power building up within himself once more.

He planted his feet, opened his mouth, and he shouted.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

A cascading inferno engulfed the area before him. Arven’s eyes went wide, and he ended up cancelling the shout after a mere second due to the intensity with which he projected the magic. He hadn’t meant to use so much force, but within an instant Durnehviir had been entirely encased within the flames.

The last time he shouted like this, ‘greeting’ a dragon he barely had enough power to engulf their head. Yet without trying, he had projected a shout that could burn down the gates of Whiterun.

Durnehviir stood up from the flames, his wings and parts of his body still on fire. He stood tall, proud, but it was clear that he was hurt.

Arven cursed. “Sorry, I didn’t realise-“ he said before he was cut off.

“Do not apologise for your greeting, Dovahkiin. You merely returned what I offered to you. If fault is to be placed, it is mine for encouraging such behaviour,” Durnehviir said. “Ah, that makes me feel alive.”

Arven cocked a brow. Even though he was accepting himself more now, he couldn’t truly appreciate the almost masochistic nature of some dragons.

“Durnehviir,” Arven started as a question rose to his mind. “Why are you helping me?”

“Do I need a reason?” Durnehviir pondered. “Can I not merely offer my assistance?”

“You just lectured me on the nature of a dragon, so yes. There has to be a reason,” Arven replied, his arms folding over his chest.

“A fair conclusion. I do not do this for free, Qahnaarin. I do it for a favour,” Durnehviir said.

“That’s more in line with what I was expecting. What do you want?” Arven asked.

“This. Simply, more of this,” Durnehviir said as he looked to the sky. “I truly miss Skyrim. My own mistakes lead me to my prison in the Soul Cairn, and I can accept that. Yet I yearn to taste the air of this world, as I am doing now. Just as I yearn to imagine the frustration being felt by the Ideal Masters as they wonder where their captive prey has escaped to.”

Arven just smiled, nodding in agreement.

“That’s a fair request. Although I may just summon you to fight for me, you know,” Arven said.

“Hah! You simply make the agreement more agreeable on my behalf,” Durnehviir replied. “I also wish to learn how you defeated our leader, yet I fear that will have to wait for another time. I am no longer made for this realm, and it seems as if I must return.”

The dragon looked up to the sky, peering into the Soul Cairn through the fissure Arven had formed. Parts of his body seemed to be almost evaporating, his essence being sucked back to where it has been bound. Even though he existed physically within Skyrim, nature itself was rejecting that fact.

After spending so much time in the land of the dead, Durnehviir was no longer made for the living world.

“It is time for me to return, Dovahkiin. I hope you do not forget what we have discussed here today,” Durnehviir said as he rose onto his two legs, wings extending out to his sides. “And my thanks to you once more, Daughter of Coldharbour. I will not forget that you stayed true to your word.”

Arven looked behind him, seeing Serana standing off to the side. He couldn’t read the expression on her face.

“Considering you helped to save his life, it seemed like an easy way to settle my debt,” Serana said.

Without another word spoken, Durnehviir shot up into the sky. Wind buffeted Serana and Arven as he took off, circling upwards at an unnatural speed, almost as if the Soul Cairn was reclaiming him. Moments before he shot through that fissure, the dragon roared once more.

Yet this time, the sound almost thrilled Arven.

Then, Durnehviir shot through the fissure, and that hole in the sky sealed shut. Within a blink of an eye, the night sky was now whole once more, without a lingering trace of anything that had just transpired.

Arven sighed. Then, squatting down, he held his head in his hands.

Serana walked up to his side, squatting down beneath him. “Hey, you okay?” Serana asked.

Arven turned to her, offering her a brief smile. “Yeah. I think so,” he responded. “That was just… a lot to take in.”

After Arven stood back up, he ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten long, and was rather messy now. “The stupid thing is, after all of that I just feel hungry,” he sighed.

“Well, it has been a while since you’ve fed,” Serana replied, rolling her eyes at him. “Is everything they said true, though?” Her curiosity had been eating away at her for a while, and even though she was happy to let Arven have the conversation which he seemingly needed, as soon as it was over she couldn’t resist the urge to ask.

“About the souls?” Arven asked.

“About your soul, yes,” she confirmed. “You aren’t about to change on me, are you?” She continued, raising a brow as she switched the tone of her voice, implying she was merely joking. Yet, there was a small level of sincerity behind that question.

“Are you asking if I’m going to start picking fights all the time now?” Arven said.

“Pretty much. I don’t want you turning into some hot-headed Nord,” she quipped.

Arven let out a small scoff. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” He turned to face her, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry Serana, I won’t suddenly change. If I can handle being a vampire without changing too much, I can handle this pretty easily.”

“Good,” Serana said with an internal sigh of relief. “You’re enough of a handful as it is.”

“Oh please. The world was peaceful until you woke up from a nap, and now all of a sudden someone’s trying to steal the Sun. You’re the handful.” He said, looking over to her.

She stared at him, mouth agape, feigning offence. She was actually just impressed that he thought of a response so quick, but admitting that would involve losing.

And Serana never lost.

Yet, despite her believing that statement to be fact, she couldn’t think of a retort.

Arven looked at her, his eyes encouraging her to speak. To say something in return. Yet she couldn’t. For some reason, seeing that stupid smile on his face, the way his eyes lit up whenever they made contact with her own, it removed any coherent thoughts in her mind.

“You-“ she started, trying to think. Yet she couldn’t, and there was a dumb smile growing on her face as she looked at him, despite that small amount of frustration he caused her. So she balled up a fist, raising it as if ready to punch Arven in the arm. It really seemed like the only logical choice, at the time.

Arven raised his hands up, feigning surrender. “Really? I thought you were worrying about me being violent?”

That just angered Serana more. She was on the verge of breaking out in a fit of laughter, but she ever so stubbornly resisted it. Had her former self a few centuries ago seen her act like this, in such a childish manner, she would have been mortified. Yet she didn’t care.

But she lowered her fist, giving Arven nothing more than a huff in reply. That simply caused his irritating smile to grow even larger than before.

“To answer your question, Serana, no. I don’t think you need to be concerned with me picking fights,” he quipped. Serana simply pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

Arven turned away, looking back towards the sky where Durnehviir had emerged, and subsequently returned to the Soul Cairn. His heart felt tight, still wrestling with the revelation he just had. However Serana’s antics had lifted his mood rather significantly.

Something which she continued to do. As Arven was looking into the sky, she quickly stood up beside him, rose on the tips of her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Arven’s eyes went wide, freezing on the spot for a moment. This time it was his turn to be speechless, looking over at her in a search for answers.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I’m lost,” Arven replied, his words merely a breath.

“For what you said. I know the dragon was trying to make a point, but when he used me as an example you refuted him so quickly,” Serana explained. She still wasn’t sure exactly what it was that Arven saw in her, but she wouldn’t complain. His transformation from hating her on sight, to staunchly defending her against any accusations against her character still surprised her. But whenever he defended her like this, either to a third party or even to herself, her heart swelled.

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Arven responded. “I was just telling the truth.”

“What, you don’t like me thanking you?” Serana asked, feigning offence. She saw her chance to toy with him for some revenge, and there was no way she wouldn’t take it. “That’s the last time I open up to you, I suppose.”

Suddenly Arven was falling over his own words. “What? No! Of course not, I was just – I meant that…”

“Fine, fine. I’ll keep my thanks to myself, then,” Serana stated, turning on her heel and starting to walk away at a very slow pace.

“Oh come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Arven pleaded.

“Say what you will, Arven, but you can’t hide the truth of your own words,” Serana called out behind her.

Arven sighed. “I don’t even know what that means right now,” he sighed.

Turning back to him, Serana held both her hands behind her back as she flashed him a cheeky smile. Arven’s expression turned, thinking himself a fool for falling prey to her words to easily once again.

“How is talking to you the most exhausting thing I’ve done today?” He asked to no one in particular.

Serana walked back on over to him, almost breaking out into a giggle. Living as she normally did, she always put on an aura of maturity and dominance. It came naturally to her position, and she didn’t hate it at the time. Yet, there was centuries of life where she couldn’t express this other side of herself. And after storing it up for so long, nothing felt better than to simply feel the joy that she currently had being in Arven’s company.

“I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m an absolute delight to talk to,” she replied as she stood in front of him. Tilting her head off to one side she inspected Arven, a hand reaching out as fingers ran through his hair briefly. It was almost to the point where it was touching his shoulders, and was incredibly messy.

“Can I help you?” Arven asked.

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Serana responded, dodging his point with ease. “Maybe I can help you though. You need a haircut,” she said.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” He asked, reaching up to gently grab her wrist as she continued toying with his hair.

“It’s long. Longer than some women I know,” she said. Yet, as she continued looking, her eyes focused slightly and she hummed to herself. “Although, it certainly doesn’t look bad.”

“I think we have more important things to worry about right now, Serana,” he said. A few moments ago and he was conversing with a dragon, yet now he was trying to stop a vampire lord from toying with his hair. Arven blinked several times once that thought struck his head, before dismissing it.

“And what might that be?” She asked, still focused on her task. Even after Arven pulled one hand down, she raised the other to take over its duties.

“The Sun. It’s coming up soon,” Arven said.

Serana paused before cursing under her breath. She looked to east. It was hard to tell due to the mountain range blocking her view of the horizon, not to mention a surprising amount of dark clouds filling the sky, but now that she paid attention she could feel it.

“I’m not familiar with this part of Skyrim. Is there a town nearby?” Serana asked.

“Two. Well, three, but one is nothing more than ruins. Falkreath is to the west, and Riverwood to the north. Falkreath is closer, but Riverwood is in the direction we need to go,” Arven replied.

“Can we get there in time? It doesn’t feel like we have long.”

“I… don’t think so, no. Not unless you feel like running,” Arven said.

“We could race,” Serana taunted.

Arven scoffed in response, shaking his head. “You’re teasing me on purpose now,” he said. Surprisingly though, a part of him almost did want to. But he pushed that aside.

“Me? Teasing? Never,” Serana responded.

“Considering you can fly, I don’t think that’d be fair,” Arven replied.

“So can you. You just haven’t bothered to learn,” Serana reminded him.

“And I’m happy to keep it that way. I have no desire to turn into a bat, thank you,” Arven said.

“Your loss. It’s pretty fun, you know,” Serana said as she started to walk off. She didn’t know which direction, but after standing around for so long she was getting an itch to move. Without realising it, Arven started to follow her.

“We didn’t plan this through too well, did we?” Arven asked, looking to the east once more. “You don’t think I’d handle the Sun if I covered my skin?”

Serana’s eyes wandered to the sky for a moment in thought. “Probably not. Despite how well you’re handling everything else, it took me decades until I could bear it. Some vampires never manage it,” she said.

“I guess Falkreath is the easiest choice, then. I don’t think I’ve ever actually spent the night there before,” Arven said.

“Then it’ll be a new experience for the both of us,” Serana said. “I’m interested to-“ she cut off as soon as she felt something wet drop down onto her nose. Looking up to the sky, it had started to rain ever so slightly. Nothing more than a light shower.

Arven looked up at the same time, a droplets of water running down his face.

“This is actually a bit refreshing,” he said. Yet he came to regret those words a moment later. The sky lit up and the sound of thunder met their ears. Arven shook his head, not expecting it to be so loud. The thunder didn’t arrive alone either, as the sprinkling of rain they were experiencing quickly started to build up into a proper downfall.

Arven sighed, shaking his head as he started to feel his hair get heavy with moisture. Serana simply raised an arm above her head, freezing the moisture before it reached her.

“Well, thankfully Falkreath isn’t too far away,” Arven said. “We can walk in this for a half hour or so.”

Yet, Arven wasn’t done regretting his words just yet. The rain continued to fall with increasing intensity. More thunder reached their ears, and before long Arven found himself quickly moving to stand under Serana’s ice shield.

“Can I help you?” She asked, mirroring Arven’s words from earlier with a hand still above her head as she turned to him. She purposely reduced the effectiveness of her spell, only freezing the rain directly above her head so that Arven was still getting wet.

“Don’t make me ask,” he pleaded. She just smiled at him, giving him the answer he was already expecting.

He closed his eyes, exhaling. “Can I please stand under- “ yet the remainder of his words were cut off. More thunder, followed by a near torrential amount of rainfall.

“Okay, where did this come from?” Serana asked, covering them both with her magic. Despite the shield of ice above them, winds had picked up to the point where rain was buffeting them from the side as well.

“I don’t think we’ll make it to Falkreath. We need to find shelter,” Arven said, almost shouting to have his voice heard.

“There were some small caves back up the mountain, we can hide there,” Serana called out to him. “I don’t know how much of this rain I can stop though!”

“Hold on, I’ll give us a minute to run,” Arven yelled back.

“What?” Serana asked, obviously confused.

But Arven just looked up to the sky, inhaling once more.

“Lok Vah Koor!”

Arven’s shout penetrated through the sudden weather, the power of his voice once again causing ripples throughout the sky of Skyrim. The weather cleared as the clouds parted, his shout punching a hole clear through them to give the pair a small reprieve from the rain.

“Let’s go, quickly” Arven said, speaking in a softer voice now that they could hear each other.

“Did you just… change the weather?” Serana asked. She had forgotten all about their situation mere moments ago. Now she was just shocked that Arven had somehow simply stopped it from raining. She couldn’t fathom how to do that with normal magic, even on a much smaller scale.

Arven quickly moved over to her, grabbing her hand. As soon as he squeezed her fingers she blinked a few times, turning back to him and breaking out of her thoughts before following. The pair ran back into the mountains as quickly as they could.

They managed to cover a distance which would take a regular man significantly longer to traverse, yet they didn’t manage to reach the caves before the rain returned to them.

“Can’t you shout again?” Serana yelled at Arven.

“It doesn’t work like that. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea,” he yelled back at her.

Serana had summoned walls of ice to protect them, but the wind was so strong that rain kept attacking them from all fronts. She ended up forming a ball of ice around them but by that point they were both well and truly soaked. Thankfully it didn’t take much longer until they reached the relative safety of the cave.

Serana finally released her control over her magic and the two stepped inside, each of them entirely drenched. Their clothes left puddles as they walked further in and Arven couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as he looked at the state of his attire. Serana looked over to him, her long hair clinging to her features, while her cloak was stuck to her body.

“I don’t suppose you have a shout to dry clothes, do you? It seems like you can do just about anything else with that power,” she said with a half smirk.

“Not really. An undershirt might be fine, but any leather would likely burn or become brittle,” Arven said. As he spoke he started taking off a few articles of clothing. His gloves came off easily enough, but some things were sticking together due to the amount of water that had permeated throughout the fabric.

“I’m starting to lose count of the amount of times you’ve just started stripping in front of me, you know,” Serana said. Yet despite her jest, she certainly didn’t seem to mind as her eyes were locked onto him.

She had been making a conscious effort to give Arven his personal space. She’d made it clear how she had felt, but that didn’t make the urges go away. While Arven was struggling with the need to drink blood, she was struggling with a rather strong desire of her own.

“Serana? You still there?” Arven asked. He had taken his leather outerwear and linen undershirt both off, leaving his torso bare. The leather clothing was laying off to the side, while he had scrunched up his shirt between his hands, wringing it out. But Serana wasn’t paying attention to his words. No, that was far too unimportant.

It was far more important to appreciate just how good his arms and chest looked when they tensed up, as his forearms twisted the fabric between his fingers.

“I could say just about anything and you wouldn’t even hear me,” Arven muttered to himself. Even though he was dense, it was fairly obvious to pick up on what Serana was doing. It wasn’t the first time, after all.

Serana only seemed to snap out of it when Arven put his shirt back on after wringing the water from the linen. He had taken all of the leather padding that served as ‘armour’ off, placing it on the cold stone floor so he was standing just in a pair of cloth pants and his shirt. Then, exhaling, Serana could hear Arven whisper a foreign word as steam started to rise off the warrior’s figure.

“That’s better,” Arven said. His clothes had dried off nearly instantly with only his hair still clinging on to any significant amount of water. Serana stood opposite him, still wearing her regular attire. Her robes, a mixture of cloth and leather were very similar to those worn by every other vampire in Volkihar. Except, hers seemed to carry slightly more finery in the form of stitching and patterns along the cuffs and over the chest and collar.

“So, are you going to help me out or are you just going to stand there all dry and comfortable?” Serana asked, arms folded across her chest. Even though she tried to put on a sarcastic tone, it was hard for it to have any effect when seconds earlier she was almost entirely zoned out.

Arven stepped closer to her, looking down at the attire she wore.

“I don’t think I can help you with this. I’d probably just burn it badly,” he said.

Serana sighed, rolling her eyes. “You can tear a hole in the sky, but you can’t even dry off some clothes,” she jested.

Arven shrugged, not bothering to defend himself. He turned around, looking to the entrance of the cave. The rain was still torrenting down, and even standing well within the cave he still felt small specks of rainwater hitting his skin. Thankfully the entrance to the cave was elevated, so they didn’t need to worry about flooding.

When he turned back around, his breath caught and he found himself struggling not to choke. Understandably, Serana had wanted to dry off. But since the majority of her clothing was made of intricate sewing, clothes stitched together with leather, all of that was now lying in a pile. It left her wearing only an undershirt and her undergarments. Not only that, but as the shirt was soaked it hugged to her figure and was practically see through.

She had her head tilted off to one side, trying to squeeze some of the moisture out of her hair. She noticed Arven looking at her, but acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Hmm? Something wrong, Arven?” She asked.

“I really hope there’s no one else in this cave,” Arven muttered to himself.

“There isn’t. I wouldn’t be standing like this if I didn’t check,” she said before standing up straight. “So, going to dry me off?”

“I… don’t know what you’re expecting. I’m not about to breathe fire on you, Serana,” he said.

“Obviously not. But whatever you did for this to happen,” she said as she reached out, grabbing Arven’s now dry shirt. “Is that something you can do?”

“If I was wearing your shirt, maybe. All I’m doing is heating up my body,” Arven said.

Serana frowned, looking down. Her shirt was far too small to fit Arven, obviously. He was taller, not to mention his shoulders and back would likely tear the fabric in two.

Serana frowned, thinking to herself. Then, she found a solution.

“Stay still,” she said as she started unbuttoning Arven’s shirt.

“What… Serana, what are you doing?” Arven asked. He had his hands by his side, and wasn’t making an attempt to stop her, but he was clearly not entirely on board with whatever this ‘plan’ was.

“Getting dry. Obviously,” she remarked. After she had Arven’s shirt fully unbuttoned, she wrapped her arms around him. With her hands resting on his broad back she pulled herself into him, squeezing him tightly as she essentially just hugged the warrior. With her cheek resting against his chest, she could feel the coarseness of a scar against her delicate skin. Yet, she didn’t mind in the least.

Arven could feel the dampness of her shirt up against his body, and he finally understood the ‘idea’ that Serana had.

“You know, for someone that’s lived as long as you have, I would’ve thought you could have come up with a better idea than this,” Arven said as he wrapped his arms around Serana’s back.

She looked up at him, a severely unimpressed look on her face.

“Are you really complaining about the situation you’re in right now, Arven?” She asked. As he made eye-contact, he struggled immensely to keep his eyes locked in place, as there was nothing blocking his view of Serana’s chest.

“Yeah, point taken,” Arven said, mentally chastising himself as he looked away. Then, inhaling once more, he exhaled while emitting the word for fire ever so silently.

“Yol.”

Serana’s eyes lit up as she felt an incredible heat coming from Arven’s chest. Within a second it had spread to every extremity of his body. It worked, but it was working far too well. There was a moment or two where it was pleasant, but it quickly got far too hot to any human to be comfortable, let alone a vampire with a weakness to heat.

“Woah, hot, hot hot – way too hot!” Serana quickly pushed herself away. Her front had dried off a considerable amount, but a second longer and she would’ve run the risk of being burnt.

Arven was left standing where he was, arms out to the side with a dumbstruck look on his face. He had a small amount of steam rising from his face due to the moisture in his hair continuing to evaporate.

“Are… you okay?” He asked.

“Are you? That’s ridiculously hot, how are you not burning up?” Serana asked.

“Is it? It just feels warm to me. Like standing in the sunlight used to feel,” Arven commented.

“You’re far warmer than that. It started to feel like I was touching molten steel,” Serana replied. She stepped closer again, placing a hand on Arven’s cheek. “You’re still really, really warm,” she said.

Arven seemed slightly confused. “I had no idea. Are you okay? I didn’t burn you, did I?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But I think we’ll need another idea,” Serana said.

“You really don’t know any magic for this? You can do damn near anything else,” Arven asked.

Serana held out a hand, particles of ice starting to hover above her palm. “I don’t think my talents are suited for this,” she said.

Arven shrugged. “Fair point,” he said as he started to button up his shirt again out of reflex. However as soon as he did, a small jolt of lightning sparked from Serana’s outstretched finger to his hands. He immediately flinched, shaking out his hand while being met with an insufferable smirk from Serana.

“Really?” He asked.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re meant to offer your jacket to a lady when she’s cold?” Serana asked.

“You’ve already got a shirt, Serana. It’s just damp,” he said. But he was rather quickly proved wrong. Serana was always the type to win an argument or to prove a point, and this was no exception. As Arven stood with his cheeks becoming flushed, Serana had rather efficiently started to unbutton her own shirt. A moment later and she had tossed it off to the side, and the only thing left providing her any level of modesty was her undergarments.

Arven quickly took his shirt off, holding it out in front of him while raising it up to give Serana back some of that modesty she so readily tossed away in front of him. She just smirked, giving him an infuriatingly cocky, yet beautiful smile before taking his offering and putting it on. It was rather baggy on her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“That’s a bit better,” Serana said while holding out her arms, a soft smile of amusement on her lips as she felt like a child wearing their parent’s shirt.

Arven sighed, deciding to change the subject. “It’s a shame we couldn’t make it to a nearby town. It would’ve been much more comfortable,” he said. “Would’ve had a nicer view as well.” The cave they were in was exactly what one would expect. Dark, damp, and scattered with rocks and stones along the floor. Hardly an ideal place to sleep through the day.

“I’d argue that you have an excellent view right now,” Serana said as she folded her arms. “As for the cave though… I could fix that, if you’d like,” she said.

Arven turned to her, raising a brow. “How, exactly?” He asked.

“Well, you know that vampires are good at illusion magic. Would you like me to show you just how skilled I am?” She asked. She took a step closer to Arven, looking into his eyes. “Please, don’t feel pressured. I know you dislike my magic, but I’m happy to make this more comfortable if you want.”

Arven let half a smile come to his lips. “I don’t dislike your magic, Serana. It’s just vampires using their magic to trick others that I hate,” he said. “It’s hardly a trick if I ask you to do it, is it?”

Serana had a gentle smile cross her lips. “Alright then. Close your eyes for me. Maybe this will encourage you to study a bit harder on your illusions.”

Arven did as she asked. He had become rather curious. He’d never really seen any of her illusions, only the effect of them as he could sneak past guards and people without them recognising him. It only took a second before he was directed to open his eyes once more.

“Alright. All done,” Serana said.

Arven opened his eyes, and he immediately failed to stop his jaw from dropping. They were no longer standing in the cave. Their surroundings had been changed entirely. The only similarity was the sound of the rain, but it had become muffled. No longer were they standing in the mouth of a cave, instead the two were in what seemed to be an isolated cabin. The floor beneath Arven’s feet was now wood, and they had been surrounded by walls and a high ceiling.

He could see the rain through a window, but now the sound of rain hitting the glass was reaching his ears as well. Arven turned around, taking in their surroundings. It was a very simple room only with a few anomalies. There was no door to the outside world, yet in the centre was a bed identical to his own back in Breezehome. Not only that, but a hearth was located on the wall opposite the bed, with a fire crackling away.

“How…” Arven started, but his words quickly failed him. Serana walked up to him, her face full of pride.

“Magic, Arven,” she said. “Centuries of study.”

Arven continued to take in his surroundings. There was a rug at the foot of his bed, and he found that it felt exactly like he would expect. Even the air smelt different. He could smell the burning wood in the hearth, along with hints of the rain outside.

“This is incredible,” he breathed.

“Like you said before. Pretty, and incredible” Serana remarked with a cocky grin.

“Yeah, like you said,” Arven replied without hesitation.

“Now, lie down,” Serana said.

Arven looked behind him, towards the bed. He reached out and placed a hand on the bed and found the mattress sinking beneath his fingers, feeling incredibly soft.

“How did you do this? Are we somewhere else?” He asked.

“No, we’re still in the cave. Illusion magic only changes the reality that the caster and the target experiences. In the real world, we’re simply standing in the cave by ourselves,” Serana explained. “Oh, I’ve also hidden the entrance to the cave. We won’t have to worry about anyone finding it,” she continued.

Arven nodded, turning before he slowly sat down on the bed. “So, I’m sitting on the cave floor right now?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Magic is a powerful thing. Almost as powerful as your mind’s ability to make sense of things such as this. Don’t think about it too hard, Arven. People have spent decades doing just that without coming to an answer,” Serana said.

“I’m so lost,” Arven said. Serana walked up to him, placing a hand over his eyes. When she removed it, Arven found that he was standing back inside the cave. Well, sitting. On the floor, which was much less comfortable than the bed he thought he was sitting on a moment ago.

“See?” Serana asked.

Arven raised a hand, looking at the dirt from the floor on his palm. As he blinked, Serana snapped her fingers and he was immediately returned to where he was before. Sitting on the bed in the lodge, with Serana standing before him.

“Why don’t you do this all the time? You can change your reality, escape anything,” he asked.

“It’s dangerous. People have lost their minds doing this, Arven. Once an illusionist becomes a master of their magic, they can create alternate realities for themselves. Some do just that, but they lose their mind and their connection with the real world in the process,” she said. “I’ve met mages who locked themselves away, creating an illusionary place for themselves until they were no longer compatible with our world.”

“Your mind craves reality. It can be tricked, for a time, but not forever,” she said. “One night on a rare occasion, however, is fine,” she said with a sweet smile.

“How long can you keep an illusion like this up for?” Arven asked.

“Quite a while. More than long enough for us to fall asleep,” she said. “Speaking of that…” placing a hand on Arven’s shoulder, she gently pushed him back. He willingly fell into the sheets, the softness embracing his figure. He quickly reoriented himself, lying back with his head on a pillow. Moments later and Serana had climbed in next to him, lying with her head on his chest. She ran a hand down his bare chest, exhaling softly as she immediately relaxed.

“You’re rather comfortable there,” Arven quipped, looking down at the woman resting on him. “You don’t really know the meaning of restraint, do you?”

Serana smiled, turning her head to look up at him. She reached up with a hand, cupping his cheeks and looking directly into his eyes. She yearned for the day that his old blue eyes would look back at hers, and every time she saw that deep crimson it reaffirmed her desire to find him a cure.

“You have no idea just how much restraint I’m showing, Arven,” she said. She sat up slightly, her head above Arven’s own as her damp hair fell down to brush against his features. With a single hand cupping his cheek, her delicate fingers ran over his skin, tracing the lines of definition and any small scar they came across.

“And the second I turn you back into a human, you’re going to find out just how much I’ve been holding myself back,” she said. Leaning in, she turned his head to the side and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek before resuming her place with her head on his chest.

Despite his incredibly slow heart rate, Arven felt his chest swell with affection. He wrapped his arms around her, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in as he sunk deeper into the mattress beneath him.

Not if I show you just how much I’m restraining myself first, he thought.

In their own private world, it was remarkably easy for sleep to reach the both of them. Arven found himself rather exhausted following his conversation with Durnehviir, and Serana was so content that she simply drifted away in a matter of seconds.

Arven opened his eyes first, and was incredibly disappointed to find that the illusion was no longer active. He had slept through the day with ease, yet when he woke he was sitting with his back against the wall of the cave. Rocks and stones were pushing into his back and legs. He was incredibly uncomfortable all of a sudden, and found himself wondering just how he managed to sleep like this.

Looking around, he found Serana standing near the entrance to the cave. She was wearing her own undershirt, along with her pants which now seemed to be entirely dry. As she heard Arven wake she turned to him, offering him a gentle smile.

“Evening,” she said. “Sleep well?”

“Somehow,” Arven grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet. “Did we really sleep like this?” Stretching out, a few solid cracks ran up the length of his spine, each one even more satisfying than the last.

“We did. Surprised?” Serana asked.

“A little, yeah. Would’ve been a lot nicer to wake up in that lodge, or whatever it was,” he said.

“I thought about it, but it would’ve been far too difficult to get out of bed. Plus, like I said, that’s a dangerous path to walk down,” Serana remarked.

Arven grumbled something underneath his breath. He agreed with her, but he struggled to vocalise it when remembering just how soft those pillows were. As he looked around for his shirt, Serana walked on over to him, holding it in her hands.

“Once this is all done, we’ll find a place like that. A real place,” she said as she gave him the clean shirt. “And if it doesn’t exist, we’ll just have to build it ourselves.”

Arven let a smile come to his face. He found himself agreeing rather easily with that plan. He took his shirt from her then went over to the rest of his attire that was laying out inside the cave. As he picked some of it up, it was still incredibly damp.

“Well that’s a pain. That must be uncomfortable for you,” he said as he turned back to Serana.

She raised a brow, arms folded underneath her chest. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

Arven raised the attire, showing it to her. “Aren’t your pants still damp?”

“Nope. Dry as a bone,” she said. The corner of her mouth was twitching, as if she was struggling with surprising difficulty to keep a straight face. Arven just looked at her, clearly confused. If his attire hadn’t dried, there was no way for hers to.

But she proved him wrong once more. Walking over, she held out a hand, palm facing towards the rest of their gear. With a flick of her wrist, beads of water rose to the surface of each piece of clothing, the moisture being sucked out within an instant. Then, it all froze to ice before she flung it against a far wall, shattering throughout the cave.

Arven just blinked. He looked to her, his face battling a look of severe confusion.

“How?” He asked.

“Magic. Alteration, plus a bit of destruction. Any half decent mage can walk on water, manipulating liquids is fairly easy if you know what you’re doing. And the ice was just for fun,” she explained.

But that didn’t cure Arven’s confusion. “Then why didn’t you just do that last night?” He asked.

Serana shrugged. Arven still hadn’t put on his shirt, so she pushed it against his chest, holding her fingers there while she took a second to enjoy the view.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She asked with a feigned smile of innocence.

Notes:

Hello again! For once, you all haven't had to wait months between updates! I had some more time so I managed to push this one out much faster. It feels like the first time in a while where I'm not apologising for being so late.

Once again, thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it! Especially to everyone who leaves kudos, or bookmarks or leaves a review, I really appreciate it all. I've also gone through and updated the chapter names, I never realised this fic would grow so long, and going through 24 odd chapters without a hint of what they are has gotten a bit burdensome.

Hopefully I'll update again relatively soon, and I hope you all stay well until then!

Chapter 25: Auriel's Bow

Arven stood at the entrance to a cave, looking in with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t even bother to try and stop the sigh that escaped from his mouth while shaking his head. To his side, Serana stood with one hand on her hip, head slightly cocked.

“It’s a good thing you enjoy caves so much, isn’t it?” Serana asked.

Arven turned to look at her, his expression less than amused.

“It’s a mythical bow of light. Why is it in a cave?” He asked.

“Deception, maybe?” Serana offered. “Most people wouldn’t think to look here.”

Arven exhaled once more, his head turning as he caught the sound of something skittering. Some baby spiders had started fleeing the cave, running on the walls and along the roof of the cave before dispersing. Arven couldn’t help but shudder at the sight of them.

Even Serana had a look of distaste cross her features, reaching out with a single finger to zap a spider that dared to come too close.

“This is the last cave I go in. After this, it’s someone else’s job,” Arven muttered before he relented and started the long decent into the mouth of the cavern. Serana followed shortly after, an amused smirk on her lips.

The two had reached their destination roughly a day or so after Arven had read the Elder Scrolls. The scrolls showed him a destination, but nothing more than that. Not only was it a rather vague bit of guidance, but it was also incredibly far away from the cave with the ancestor moths. So, as the journey was too long to make in one stint, the pair ended up passing through Dragonsreach on the way.

Over the previous days and weeks they had lost most of their blood vials either through drinking them, or being broken in battle. Passing through Dragonsreach served as another opportunity to stock up on blood before they continued, so it seemed like a logical place to stay. Arven was dreading the conversation with Lydia in order to get more vials. He knew that she’d be willing, but he hated asking her for it. However he didn’t need to. When they arrived at his house, there were already vials in storage for him.

It appeared that ever since turning, Lydia had been occasionally filling a vial with her blood, creating a stockpile for him. Arven felt a lump of guilt in his stomach, as he was sure there was nothing he had done to deserve a follower as loyal as this. Yet, he needed the blood, so he took the vials, along with a promise to himself that he’d do something to make it up to her in the future.

While at home, the pair also dropped off the rather cumbersome Elder Scrolls they had been carrying. Three of them now rested in Arven’s bedroom. Serana had disguised them as they walked around, so they should be as safe there as they would be anywhere else.

Still, he’d never tell Urag that he’d left them unaccompanied like this.

The rest of the journey hadn’t taken long, with the time spent teaching Serana more restoration magic, or with Serana teaching Arven illusion magic. He still found it rather difficult to grasp, but changing his own eye colour was simple enough now. Although, when he turned his eyes back to their original colour, the reaction from Serana was rather… mixed. Since then, he found it easier to leave it alone.

But unfortunately, that limited illusion magic did nothing to save him from yet another cave.

Back in the glade, when the location was revealed to him he had a feeling it might be a cave of sorts, but when that suspicion was confirmed he felt his gut sinking at the realisation that there was yet another one. Skyrim seemed to be riddled with them, almost to an unnatural level.

As the pair started walking inside the damp, dim environment, it quickly separated itself from others littered through Skyrim as it was surprisingly steep. They found themselves in a tunnel, each walking slowly while leaning back as the ground beneath them was at such an angle that they could just about slide down towards the bottom, if they slipped.

“I get the feeling this isn’t going to be as nice as the glade was,” Arven muttered.

“I think you might be right on that one,” Serana replied as she grimaced. Her eyes were locked onto the walls, where spider webs were growing more common as they continued to descend further. The walls on either side of them, while growing narrower with every passing second, were no longer glistening from moisture and moss. Instead what little light there was caught strands of web, reflecting off to catch Serana’s eye every few moments. She shivered, shaking her head.

“You really don’t like spiders, do you?” Arven asked.

“Who does? They’re awful,” Serana responded.

More small spiders continued to skitter about the place, yet thankfully nothing larger than Arven’s palm. Although even those were enough to make Serana shiver and zap them as soon as she saw them.

“Be careful,” Serana said as they continued. “This feels wrong. I’m no expert on cave delving, but this feels like we’re being directed somewhere.”

“I think you’re right,” Arven responded. “Normally by now there’d be a twist, or the cave would open up into a wide cavern. We’ve just been going straight down for a while now.”

As they progressed Serana reached out, placing a hand on Arven’s shoulder. Whether it was for her own balance, or ensuring that Arven didn’t slip, he didn’t know. But he certainly didn’t mind. Eventually the two came to a bridge, leading across a chasm that rose high above a pitch blackness. Beneath them the sound of rushing water could be heard, but nothing else.

“Even as a vampire, I can barely see in here,” Arven said.

Serana took a step ahead of him, holding out her hand before she flooded it with restoration magic. While her magic was far less vibrant than Arven’s had been when he was a mortal, it still filled their surroundings with the dull golden glow. She looked to Arven, a slightly smug grin on her face.

“Better?” She asked.

“You’re really proud that you’ve figured that out, aren’t you?” Arven remarked.

Serana shrugged, stepping out onto the bridge before them as she slowly worked her way across. Her footsteps were impossibly light, and the wood beneath barely creaked as she traversed the rotting bridge. Arven watched her go, not wanting to place too much weight on the wooden planks, however when she made it to the other side it was obvious that they had reached a dead end.

“Is there anything over there?” Arven asked.

Serana shook her head. “Nothing. Someone was here previously, but there’s no sign of them now. Just an old, dirty mat.”

Arven frowned.

“Perhaps there’s a hidden passage?” He muttered to himself, thinking back to a similar scenario in Castle Volkihar.

He took a few steps out, cautiously walking across the bridge. It complained, but the wood felt surprisingly strong underfoot. So he continued onwards, with more confidence. And just as he did, he heard a loud, echoing snap.

“Arven!” Serana called out just as the bridge gave way and Arven plummeted into the darkness below. He looked down, trying to see a sign of a solid landing or water beneath him. The rushing water was growing louder, and in his travelling gear he could swim, but depending on how fast the currents were flowing it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Neither would a solid landing, but he could handle that.

As he fell, his eyes widened in alarm as he was suddenly surrounded by a flock of bats. A second later and they coalesced in front of him, Serana taking shape once more.

Arven went to call out in shock, reprimanding her for jumping in after him, but just as he opened his mouth his body was plunged into near freezing water. His entire body was submerged, and he started to get dragged along by a vicious current. Serana had turned into a flock of bats once more, flying above while keeping an eye on Arven.

She struggled to think of a way to stop the current. She could freeze the water, but doing so without getting Arven caught would be tricky. Plus, she’d have to return to the shape of a human to do so and would end up being caught in the current herself.

Her train of thought was immediately ceased as the tunnel they were in opened up, and Arven was shot out into a wide, open chasm, falling down what appeared to be an internal waterfall. He felt himself falling quickly, shaking his head and looking about to clear the water from his eyes. Thankfully he wasn’t starving for oxygen. If he had fallen down as a mortal in full plate armour, he’d be far worse off.

Serana had returned to her normal form in front of him, ready to catch him and attempt to slow their fall with magic. However her look of determination was quickly interrupted as her eyes went wide, and she let out an incredibly out of character yelp.

Arven turned mid-air, looking behind him to see a number of monstrously large frostbite spiders dangling from the ceiling. Each one as large as a man, they were descending at the same rate he was, crawling down strong, silken strands of web.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Yol!” Yelling a single word before he was plunged into the water once more, he managed to breathe a stream of fire directly at one spider, incinerating it and melting the stones behind it within seconds. One threat was taken care of, but there were still multiple around him. Not only that, but his one source of help had, once again, turned into a swarm of bats.

Despite the threat though, Arven could only think about how he could tease Serana about this. He never knew she hated spiders this much.

As he joined the waterfall in crashing into a pool at the bottom of the room, he was once again washed away. The spiders following him had managed to climb onto the ceiling above and were trailing him with blinding speed.

A few seconds later and he shot out into an open room, a wide cave that had hints of natural light peeking in through holes in the roof. The water that was pushing him along continued underfoot, funnelled into narrow crevices in the stone beneath him, yet there was solid rock to stand on now.

Rolling onto the floor, he immediately stood up, summoning a blade in one hand as he looked around for the spiders on his trail. He felt something press up against his back, yet as he looked over his shoulder he found Serana there, emerging from a swarm of bats as she stood with her back against his own. A second later and the cavern erupted with thunder, bright bolts of lightning coming from the mage behind him as she wasted no time in destroying every spider that she could see.

The roof was still covered in webs, and he counted a dozen separate blasts of magic before the cavern returned to an eerie stillness, with the exception of running water. A large spider crashed into the ground several meters away, hitting the floor hard as its charred body showed no signs of life.

Arven looked behind him, giving Serana an amused look. She, on the other hand looked angry. Incredibly angry. But she snapped out of that as soon as she saw Arven. Her eyes went wide, and the look of anger was replaced with one of slight worry.

“Arven, are you okay?” She breathed out. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure how to get you out of there.”

Arven raised a hand, offering her a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Serana. Just… damp.”

Exhaling once more, he used the trick he’d become rather fond of. Heating up his body, before long  the cloth and leather sticking to his body started to dry, with water turning to steam. Serana took half a step back, removing herself from the intense heat.

“Think you got them all?” Arven asked, motioning to the arachnid corpses around the room.

“Ugh. I hope so. Disgusting things,” Serana spat underneath her breath.

Arven let out a small chuckle, turning away from where they came. “Ready to move on, then?”

“Are you? You’re the one who bore the brunt of that little adventure,” Serana said, looking to him. She was entirely dry, managing to avoid the aggressive waters the entire time. Arven found himself to be slightly envious of how easily she handled that. Almost jealous enough to want to learn how to transform into bats himself.

No, this is only temporary. No point investing time into a skill that will perish soon enough.

“I’m alright. I’m more concerned about how we’ll escape this place, there’s no going back the way we came,” Arven said.

“I suppose we’ll just have to push forward, then,” Serana said as she started to walk off in the direction the water was flowing. “The water has to go somewhere, after all.”

Without a better alternative plan, Arven followed behind Serana. The running water thankfully pierced the eerie silence of the cave, and small pockets of light breaking through the ceiling made it easier to see in the near pitch-black darkness. Arven patted down his body as they walked, checking to make sure his pouches, and more importantly the vials of blood he carried were still with him.

Thankfully, the straps holding them had all held up and he hadn’t lost any.  So, should the worst-case scenario come to pass they’d be alright stuck in the cave for quite some time. He could certainly think of worse places to be, considering the company he had.

Eventually he was stopped in his tracks as Serana had come to a halt before him. He quickly caught onto the reason why, as the very faint stench of dried blood reached his senses.

“That’s not what I was expecting,” Arven said. The two of them cautiously continued through the caverns, until eventually they came upon the remains of a campfire. Next to the burnt wood lied the corpse of a seemingly young woman. She was alone, and didn’t have much in the way of supplies.

“Lost, perhaps? Searching for the bow?” Serana prompted.

Arven stepped closer, looking down at the corpse. She was wearing simple clothes, not those of an adventurer. “I don’t think so. If she was, she was terribly underprepared.”

Squatting down, he quickly found a note tucked under a log of wood separate from the burnt-out campfire. Arven picked it up and read through it, letting out a disappointed sigh as he came to learn why the woman had come down here.

“What does it say?” Serana asked. Arven handed the note to her.

“She wasn’t here for the bow. She… I don’t even know,” he said as he stood.

What a waste of life, he thought to himself.

Serana frowned as she read the note. “Why would you come down here to live with animals? And out of everything, trolls? Is this a joke?” She asked, looking back to Arven.

He just sighed, shaking his head. “Go on for a moment, would you?” He suggested. Serana nodded, taking a few steps away while looking back at Arven. He crouched down, scooping up the woman’s body before placing it on the burnt-out campfire. After standing and taking a few steps back, he inhaled deeply as the damp air of the cave filled his stomach, that air igniting in his throat and turning into molten flames as he exhaled in the language of the Dovah.

Igniting the corpse, he watched as the cave was illuminated by the intense heat coming from the ‘pyre’, only pausing for a moment before turning around and continuing the descent alongside Serana.

“I’m really not in the mood to fight trolls,” Arven breathed out.

“Don’t worry, simple animals are easy enough to calm,” Serana offered.

Arven hummed to himself, thinking. It seemed like a simple enough solution. Serana could charm the most strong-willed humans, so a beast should be an easy task.

“That works for me. Hopefully no one else is foolish enough to come down here, although I’m not even sure how she made it here,” Arven said.

“If she came here with supplies, it means there’s another path to get here; a way out,” Serana responded. That gave Arven some small level of comfort as the two continued. They walked through a wide cave, puddles of water littering the ground with small outcrops of rocks and vegetation clinging to the walls of the caves. The webs were now gone, replaced with small ‘nests’ formed by various trolls wandering through the wide cavern.

The smell of death hung in the air, no doubt aided by the creatures’ nests being built primarily from bones. Yet thankfully, there was no fresh blood. The trolls all seemed rather tame when they weren’t fixated on fighting anyone.

It was a strange feeling, walking past aggressive creatures such as this. Some looked to Arven and Serana, but they had seemingly no interest whatsoever in the pair.

“I have to say, this is significantly easier. The last time I fought a troll, any cuts I gave it were regenerated within seconds,” Arven muttered. He subconsciously kept his voice to a low level, as if they were trying to sneak past the animals.

“I can’t say I’m fond of them either, ice magic isn’t the best against these creatures,” Serana said before turning to him. “Just another reason for you to study your illusion magic.”

“Gods, you’re more pushy than the college. I’m not suited for magic, remember? I’m not going to pick it up as fast as you do,” Arven replied, looking to Serana.

“You have a bad habit of underestimating yourself, Arven. You’re a much better mage than you realise,” Serana retorted.

“Only because I’m a vampire,” Arven said as he held up a single hand, letting magics twist and take shape around his hand before dispersing into thin air. “Remember how bad I was without my gloves before?”

“That’s simply because you don’t practice enough. You became reliant on those gloves. You watch, once we’re done with this and we find your cure, I’ll teach you. And you’ll pick it up much faster than you’d expect,” she said with surprising conviction.

“You seem awfully sure of that,” Arven said.

“Because I am,” Serana replied.

“And what if finding the cure takes longer? You won’t be able to prove your theory,” Arven challenged. He didn’t know why he was being argumentative, he wanted to find that cure more than anyone. But he was surprised how Serana was treating it as a sure thing.

“Oh, it won’t. We’ll find it soon, trust me,” Serana said. She had her arms behind her back, looking up at Arven as strands of her hair fell past her striking eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” Arven asked, genuinely curious.

In response Serana moved closer, standing up on the tips of her toes to whisper in Arven’s ear.

“Because I’m getting impatient. And since I can’t get what I want until you’re cured, you can be damn sure I’m going to find it sooner than you’d think,” Serana said.

Arven’s cheeks immediately became flushed. He knew what she was referring to, she’d made it painfully obvious on several occasions now. But he couldn’t muster a response. Not when she was being so forward about it.

But before he could think about a response, Serana took half a step forward, prompting him to follow her as she continued through the dark cave. “Then, after I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted, I’ll teach you proper magic. And you’ll pick it up in no time.”

“I suppose we’ll need something to do after all of this is done,” Arven said.

“Haven’t we already decided that?” Serana asked. “I thought we were going to find a nice, quiet cabin somewhere. I’m sure we can keep ourselves entertained in a relaxing place like that for quite some time.”

Arven looked about, ignoring the implication. “As long as it’s not a cave, I’ll be happy,” he muttered to himself.

“You’re getting more resistant to my teasing,” Serana observed, faking the slightest of pouts.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You can be awfully distracting,” Arven said with a soft smile.

“In a way, but it was certainly more enjoyable watching you stammer whenever I so much as smiled at you,” Serana stated. “But I suppose-“ she continued before cutting off, her eyes darting forward to scan a deep area of the cave. The path they were on was narrowing, with the trolls mostly behind them.

Taking a few steps forward, Arven could see a source of light coming from deeper within the cave systems. And then he smelt what had given Serana pause.

“Someone’s alive down here,” Arven muttered.

Serana nodded to him, caution across her face. No doubt, anyone living in caves riddled with trolls would likely be dangerous, or crazy. Perhaps both.

Yet with nowhere else to go, the two continued onwards. Not only that, but there was a hint of curiosity burning within Arven’s mind.

“Seriously, who would want to come down here, of all places?” He whispered to Serana. The two walked side by side, not hunkering down as one would when trying to be quiet. It seemed superfluous, given how they were able to make virtually no noise at all with every step.

As they drew closer, they eventually saw the outline of an armoured man, standing alone. Not only that, but there was a construction of sorts around him.

“That almost looks like a shrine,” Serana muttered.

“A shrine to what? No god would be worshipped down here, surely,” Arven replied, with his mind immediately going to thoughts of Daedric Princes. Yet his thoughts were rudely interrupted as the lone man, somehow noticing the pair, called out to them both.

“Come forward. You have nothing to fear here,” the voice called out, reverberating off the walls in the dim cavern.

“I struggle to find reassurance in those words, given where we are,” Serana quipped with just enough volume for Arven alone to hear.

However, despite their location, the biggest shock came when they saw the man’s appearance. Initially he looked similar to any mer, yet his skin and hair were both pure white. Far whiter than any altmer Arven had known.

The man watched as Arven and Serana both approached, waiting calmly with his hands behind his back. He was wearing some form of plate armour, yet his arms were bare, and a mace was strapped to his waist.

As soon as they were within an appropriate distance, the man tilted his head slightly in what Arven assumed was a bow.

“I am Knight-Paladin Gelebor,” the man said. “Welcome, to the Great Chantry of Auri-El”. Behind the man was a simple shrine with symbology that Arven didn’t immediately recognise, along with a structure that seemed to be buried in the ground.

“The ‘great chantry’?” Serana asked, looking around them with a raised brow, obviously suggesting that their location, a dimly lit and damp cave, was the furthest thing from a chantry she’d ever seen.

Arven looked over to her, frowning with obvious disappointment. Serana offered a soft shrug, a coy grin on her lips.

“I am Arven, and this is Serana,” Arven replied, returning the greeting properly. “Forgive us, but this… cave is a temple to a god?”

“That it is,” Gelebor responded, clearly unfazed by their disappointment at the surroundings. “Auriel, Auri-El, Alkosh, Akatosh. Many different names for the sovereign of the snow elves.”

Both Serana and Arven had their expressions twist in a second, going from disbelief to shock. Yet, they were shocked at different things.

“A snow elf? You’re a falmer?” Serana asked, disbelief on her face.

“I prefer ‘snow elf’. The name ‘falmer’ usually holds a distinctly negative connotation to most,” Gelebor replied, a mixture of anger and sorrow flashing across his face for the briefest of moments. “I have no wish to be thought of as one of those creatures, ‘The Betrayed’.”

“I wasn’t aware there were any of you left, truthfully,” Serana said.

“Few are. The limited number of us that remain are reclusive for a reason. Not all would be welcoming to us, if they came to know that we are still alive,” Gelebor explained.

“I’m sorry, Akatosh?” Arven asked, bringing the conversation into a different direction entirely.

Gelebor turned to him, nodding curtly. “A diety by any other name. This surprises you?”

“Akatosh is the chief diety of the Nine Divines, not any of the Aldmeri Pantheons,” Arven responded.

Gelebor had a brief smile cross his lips. “As you would have been led to believe. However, many see Auri-El and Akatosh as one and the same. Akatosh the chief of the Nine Divines, Auri-El the chief of the Aldmeri. Are you a follower of Akatosh, perhaps?”

“You could say that, I suppose,” Arven responded. He furrowed his brow, deep in thought. It didn’t change anything for him, yet it was surprising to know that Akatosh was known by other names. Especially since he himself, as Dragonborn, had his soul come directly from the god.

“In that case, I bid you welcome. Of course, I know why the two of you are here,” he continued.

“You do?” Serana asked, Arven still thinking to himself.

“You are here for Auriel’s Bow. Why else would you come to this place?” Gelebor responded.

“Well, that saves us the problem of asking for it,” Serana muttered to Arven.

“I can help you get it,” Gelebor continued. “Yet in return, I’d ask of your assistance.”

“What kind of assistance would you need?” Arven asked, his motivation slightly higher now that he had a separate connection to this weapon in his mind.

“I need you to kill someone. Arch-Curate Vyrthur. My brother,” Gelebor said with a solemn look.

Arven had a rather inappropriate comment to make about the amount of family-related drama he’d been forced into recently, but somehow managed the wisdom to keep his mouth shut.

“Mind if we ask why?” Serana asked, folding her arms across her chest. Unknown to Arven, she had a very similar thought cross her mind.

“The kinship we had as brothers is gone. I don’t know what happened, but he is no longer the man I once knew. He has become twisted, tainted by the betrayed. The falmer, as you call them,” Gelebor stated. “I just don’t know why Auri-El would allow this to happen,” he continued in a much softer voice.

“What happened, exactly? What are you asking us to do?” Arven asked.

“Some time ago, the betrayed swept into our chantry and murdered everyone. A small number of my paladins tried to fight back, yet we were overwhelmed. The chantry is, was, a place for peaceful worship. Not warriors,” Gelebor said. “It was a slaughter.”

“I’m sorry,” Serana replied, briefly offering her condolences. She did feel sorrow to some extent. Not for the man in front of her specifically, but she couldn’t help but think about more snow elves being killed. Finding out one was alive was a miracle. Yet finding out that she has to kill another, and that many more were butchered, left her with a terrible feeling in her stomach.

“Have you tried to go after him yourself? Why do you need us to kill him?” Arven asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

“I cannot. I must guard these wayshrines, as is my sacred duty as a Knight-Paladin,” Gelebor replied. “Plus, the chantry is still overwhelmed. I’d merely be headed to my death.”

“Yet you think the two of us will be able to succeed?” Arven questioned.

“I’m no fool, I know strength when I see it,” Gelebor replied, his voice suggesting rather heavily that he knew exactly what the two of them were.

“Wait, wayshrine?” Serana interrupted. “What exactly are you guarding here?”

“Ah, yes. Come, let me show you,” Gelebor responded. Without waiting for a response he turned, raising a hand that was illuminated with a bright light. Both Serana and Arven immediately squinted, their eyes struggling to adjust for a second.

Gelebor approached the submerged structure behind him. It seemed as if a small shrine had been buried into the dirt rather evenly, with immaculate, carved white stone jutting out from the moss-covered stone beneath them. A small symbol to Auri-El rested on the very top.

Focusing the magic in his hand, Gelebor exhaled, and a moment later the structure suddenly rose out of the ground. The floor beneath them shook, vibrating as the small shrine was properly revealed. It was somehow spotless despite the moss it was breaking up as it emerged, rising until the structure stood well above their heads. There was a single entrance to the shrine, leading to a room shaped like a hexagon with a small basin resting in the centre.

“So, this is snow elf magic,” Serana said as she stepped up, placing a hand on the structure. “Incredible.” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She truly seemed to be impressed, observing a new form of magic for the first time.

“This structure is known as a wayshrine. They were used for meditation and, more importantly, transportation back when the chantry was a place of enlightenment,” Gelebor explained.

“Transportation?” Arven asked.

“Yes. Portals, specifically. Separate portals that were used for initiates, who would travel to different places, each representing a separate mantra. Apologies for the… incomplete explanation. Our traditions are many, and explaining them all to you would take time that none of us have,” Gelebor said.

“What’s that basin in the centre signify?” Serana asked, her curiosity overwhelming Gelebor’s obvious desire to have the pair continue on.

Exhaling briefly, the man continued. “Our initiates would carry a ceremonial ewer, filling it in the basin at the wayshrine’s centre before proceeding to the next one.”

“So these initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water?” Serana asked. She had something on the tip of her tongue, yet a stern look from Arven stopped that. Even if he was sure he’d hear it from her once they had some privacy once more.

“Taking the contents of each wayshrine was necessary in order to pour the water out at the chantry. Filling the sacred basin of the sanctum would allow an initiate to enter, granting them an audience with the Arch-Curate himself,” Gelebor replied curtly.

“All of that, just to pour it out at the end? Makes no sense to me,” Serana quietly said to herself.

“It’s symbolic,” Gelebor stated rather firmly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. This place is the epicentre of our religion. Most of our race worshiped Auri-El, and this chantry stood since the First Era to provide a retreat to those who wished for enlightenment. A lengthy process for admittance has been mandatory for as long as history remembers.”

“Wait, we have to do all of that for entry?” Serana asked. “How long does this take?”

“You do. Initiates spend days traversing through the chantry in order to complete the ritual. This isn’t merely an afternoon stroll,” Gelebor said.

“Days?” Serana asked, her face showing a level of disbelief. “We’re expected to haul an ewer around for days? Let me guess, if we spill a single drop of water, we have to start over?” She quipped.

Gelebor didn’t respond, yet his silence gave Serana the answer she was specifically not hoping for.

“There’s no other way?” Arven asked.

“There is not. The wayshrines will only show you the path to the chantry once you have proven your commitment to Auri-El. It serves multiple purposes. Defence, as well as a way to show one’s dedication,” Gelebor said, specifically now taking to Arven instead of Serana.

“You couldn’t open the path for us?” Arven asked.

“It would be violating my oaths. I could open the portal, yet I cannot follow. And without completing the ritual yourself, you would be stuck at the chantry with no way back, lest you somehow convince my brother to open the path for you,” Gelebor explained.

Serana, obviously wishing to test the words of the snow elf, stepped into the wayshrine. A single portal appeared opposite her, showing the entrance to what seemed to be, of all things, yet another cave. She turned to Arven, giving him a look of sympathy mixed in with frustration.

“I suppose we’d better get moving, if this will take as long as you say it will,” Serana said as she exhaled deeply.

“As I said. We are short on time,” Gelebor repeated.

“Are there other ways to complete the ritual? If the reasoning behind it all is merely to show commitment to Auri-El, would someone who followed the diety in other ways have access?” Arven asked.

“An interesting question, yet irrelevant. The chantry was for those who dedicated their lives to worshipping Auri-El. I don’t doubt that you are a follower of Akatosh, yet you need more than a simple belief to find enlightenment at the chantry,” Gelebor explained.

Arven ignored that rebuttal, moving to step into the wayshrine. There was an ewer to the side that they were clearly meant to take, but as it had been stated multiple times before, they didn’t have the time to spend days hauling water about.

Stepping into the centre of the wayshrine, in front of the basin, Arven closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, focusing purely on the strength that he now felt at all times emanating from his soul. From the piece of Akatosh that he always carried. While he didn’t doubt the dedication of the initiates, none of them had the connection with Akatosh that he had. If living as the dragonborn didn’t show commitment, what would?

After a moment of silence, his plan had come to fruition.

“Impossible,” Gelebor whispered as the wayshrine came to life. Each of the five walls shimmered out of existence, instead showing a separate portal leading to a different location. Arven turned around, looking through them all, before his gaze went back to the snow elf.

“Do the snow elves believe Auri-El to be a dragon as well?” He asked.

“Some symbology shows Auri-El as a dragon, yes. Why do you ask?” Gelebor replied. His stance and tone showed a level of shock, but also a level of mistrust.

“I’m more in tune with Akatosh than you’d believe. I suppose you’re right, maybe Auri-El and Akatosh really are one and the same,” Arven said.

“I don’t quite know how you’ve managed this… yet, I suppose it doesn’t truly matter,” Gelebor relented. Shaking his head, he gestured to one of the portals. “Follow that one. It will take you to the chantry directly. I am unsure of how you plan to gain access without the ewer, but perhaps it too will open for you. And, as for the bow, you’ll likely find it where you find my brother.”

Arven bowed his head in thanks. “We appreciate your assistance, Gelebor. We’ll be back soon,” Arven said before he looked to Serana, giving her a brief nod before the two stepped into the portal taking them away from the dim cave.

The light was momentarily blinding as they emerged through the other side. Going from the dim light of the cave to a brightly illuminated world caused near physical pain to Arven as he shut his eyes tight. He looked to the ground as Serana strode out in front of him, exiting the small structure which was identical to that back in the cave.

“Is it daylight?” Arven asked.

“Not quite. It’s dusk, but it almost seems like an illusion of some kind,” Serana said. “It’s… rather beautiful.”

Arven slowly opened his eyes, stepping out of the shrine to stand by Serana’s side. In front of them was a rather stunning sight. They had found the chantry, yet it dwarfed what Arven had pictured in his head. This seemed almost more like a castle. Beautiful architecture rising out of the otherwise pristine, snow-capped landscape. The architecture was similar to the shrine they had passed though, which was to be expected. Yet the chantry was on a much, much grander scale.

Hidden in the mountains like this, it was hard to imagine bringing the stone and metal in order to create such a place. The word ‘chantry’ seemed to be insufficient for the structure that was before them. It rivalled Castle Volkihar, yet instead of the architecture emanating a suffocating, dark aura, this place seemed pristine. Not only that, but knowing that such a place existed in an isolated corner of the world made it all the more beautiful.

“What time is it?” Arven asked.

“I’m not quite sure. Perhaps time works differently here,” Serana suggested. “Either through magic, or we could simply be near enough to the tip of Nirn that the days pass in a different manner.”

“Time changes throughout Nirn?” Arven asked, turning to Serana.

“In a way, yes. But – “ she said before she was suddenly cut off. The sound of something piercing through the cold air reached their ears, and within a blink of the eye Serana had summoned a small shard of ice to intercept an arrow flying right for them.

While they were looking forward towards the chantry, they neglected to look behind them. As they now did, they noticed the entrance to icy cavern lying at the base of a towering mountain. The cavern itself, the steep hills at the base of the mountain alongside the entrance and the walls of the valley they stood in were littered and stained with the constructs of the falmer.

Arven looked to the arrow that was now splintered on the ground as he extended a hand, his fingers closing tightly around an ethereal blade. “Good save, thank you,” he said while looking at the dozen or so falmer that were now stalking towards the pair.

“This is going to be all the more unfortunate, after seeing what they once were,” Serana said.

Arven nodded in agreement but didn’t say anything more. He simply dashed forward, holding his blade extended before him as shards of ice started to sing overhead with Serana throwing them towards the falmer.

While falmer were no doubt dangerous, they didn’t quite match up to vampires. And they certainly couldn’t match the strength of dragons.

Some of the falmer were up on their constructs, while others were now emerging from small huts on the ground. All of them were focused on the man running towards them, some with drawn bows and the other with jagged, wicked blades and armour charging right for him. Yet their metal seemed to provide no resistance at all to an ethereal blade that been skilfully summoned and masterfully wielded.

Arven’s blade cut through the falmer’s own weapons with ease. Parrying a blade to the side he pierced one creature through the heart in a clean, swift motion. His blade carried on, leaving opaque tendrils of shadow and magic in Arven’s wake as he continued to cut down the creatures. Some shot arrows at him; each one was either intercepted by Serana, or missed him by a breath as he dodged between them and the blades coming for his throat.

The falmer either didn’t understand the threat that they were posed or they felt no fear, as they kept coming for Arven. Even as bodies started to fall from the sides of the valley, hitting the ground lifelessly with resounding thuds, the creatures didn’t back down. The only thing that stopped them was death, either by Serana’s magic or Arven’s blade striking them down.

Arven didn’t even feel the need to shout, the natural strength and agility he had was more than enough to overpower the falmer. And less than a minute later, the ethereal magic he held in his hand slowly dissipated into the air, rising to mix in with the cold breaths escaping from Arven’s lips in the harsh winter climate.

“I’m not even sure if I should feel sorry for them at this point,” Arven said.

“Remember, they slaughtered innocent people in the temple. They don’t deserve your pity, Arven,” Serana replied.

Arven pursed his lips, thinking to himself for a moment. Shaking his head, he turned back towards the temple, leaving the corpses of the falmer behind them both.

“Let’s go, no point in wasting any time out here,” Arven prompted.

The two approached the temple, and Arven was once again shocked by the beauty. A long bridge extended to cross a chasm before they could reach a staircase, leading up to an arch which served as the only entrance through the outer walls.

“Can you imagine walking for days, and you have to climb a staircase at the end of it? Seems like torture,” Serana quipped.

“It’d suck if you tripped. I think if I dropped the water here I’d just give up,” Arven responded.

Past the arch entrance, they came to a grand statue standing in a courtyard of sorts, with two grand staircases on either side of it. The statue was of Auri-El. Akatosh. Arven found himself standing at the base of it, looking up with more than a hint of curiosity on his face.

“Have you seen a statue like this before, Serana?” He asked.

“I can’t say I have. Not exactly like this one, anyhow,” she replied as she stood next to him. Her arms were folded, head cocked to the side as she looked up alongside him.

“This is supposedly the same god as the one I know, yet it looks so different,” Arven muttered.

“People tend to picture deities in an image similar to their own. It makes sense that mer would see their god as something similar to themselves, rather than in the shape of a man,” Serana suggested.

“I suppose that makes sense. No matter their appearance, I hope they let us in,” Arven remarked.

Serana raised a brow. “They’d better. I am not carrying a bucket of water around for days on end, thank you. If we can’t get in I’ll just blast the doors down.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever known someone with such an aversion to manual labour that they’d rather piss off a deity,” Arven replied.

“Well, now you do,” Serana said with a soft smirk before turning to walk up the stairs.

Arven let a small chuckle escape his throat before following, climbing up the final approach to the temple’s entrance. The idea behind getting access to the temple was rather clear. A stone bowl was located directly opposite two large, arched doors granting entrance to the temple’s interior. That bowl was connected to grooves, patterns in the stone which laid out a rather beautiful piece of art.

“Well, go on then, figure it out,” Serana said. “I’ll give you a moment or two before I step in.” As she spoke, she held up a hand, lighting beginning to crackle between her fingers while her other hand rested on a hip.

Arven rolled his eyes, walking up to the doors which stood at the height of at least three humans standing shoulder on shoulder. He inhaled deeply, holding the breath in his chest as the cold air filled his lungs. It was a strange feeling as he let the energy within rumble, the natural heat coming from it in direct opposition to the cold nature of being a vampire. Two halves opposed to the other.

“Alright, you gave me access through the shrine. Grant me entrance to your temple. Your followers may be lost, but at the very least I can grant them justice,” Arven whispered, the cold air now escaping back through his lips. As he spoke he summoned a blade in hand once more, fingers squeezing the pommel tightly as it gained shape and mass.

There was silence for only a second, before one of the doors shook. Dust cascaded down as the metal and wood remembered how to move, ever so slowly creaking open to grant Arven and Serana access into the sanctum.

Serana walked up to Arven’s side, shaking a hand as if to dissipate the magicka she had built up in preparation for blasting down the door. “Good work. I don’t think this chantry could handle someone breaking down the doors, truthfully,” she said, regarding the condition and age of the overall structure.

The two walked inside, with Serana drawing a blade from her waist as well, small surges of magicka crackling from her other free hand. Yet when they entered they were not set upon by the falmer. Instead, they only came across creatures which had been frozen in place.

Stepping through the temple, even their incredibly light footsteps echoed ever so slightly on the tiles beneath them. They moved quickly, yet carefully, each one struck with a look of confusion and anticipation on their face.

“What happened here? Why are they all frozen in ice?” Arven asked.

“It almost looks like they were each blasted with ice magic. Incredibly powerful ice magic,” Serana said. While moving past the frozen creatures, both Arven and Serana were looking for any hint of movement. Any sign that the creatures may break free in an instant and attack.

“Something isn’t right. I wonder if Gelebor’s brother met the same fate?” Serana suggested.

“For some reason, I doubt that things are going to be that simple,” Arven responded.

The two continued forward. Through various rooms of differing sizes, the situation was the same. Falmer frozen in place. Not only that, but each falmer was frozen in a position where they seemed to be in the middle of attacking something. A shield raised, a sword being lunged forward. Even staves wielded in a fashion to be conjuring magicka.

“So, what’s the plan? Do we start smashing them pre-emptively?” Arven asked.

“Depends on if you want to take the risk. Perhaps we can get out of here without fighting, or perhaps attacking one will wake the others,” Serana offered.

“I’d like to think for once we can get what we came for without resorting to violence,” Arven stated. “Plus, who knows how long they’ve been frozen for. Surely they’d be dead by now, right?”

“I’m not sure, Arven. There are forms of magical stasis, but… I’m not all that familiar with them,” Serana said.

As they continued to walk, certain doors had been closed off. Either frozen shut, or collapsed with rubble blocking the way. There was always an alternate path available, but the temple quickly turned into what felt like a maze.

“It almost feels like we’re being guided around,” Serana said with a frown on her face.

“It does, but I’m not sure that we have a choice in the matter,” Arven said. They both had their voices low, as if trying to remain discreet.

“You can’t sense anyone nearby, can you? I can’t smell or feel a thing,” Arven asked.

“Nope, nothing. There’s not a living soul nearby,” Serana confirmed. Yet that confirmation didn’t ease Arven’s nerves.

The temple was in such a state of disrepair that at one point they had to leave the temple. A wall had been broken open, and they ended up climbing through a cavern of sorts in order to continue onwards. It was that, or start blasting down walls. Yet the temple didn’t seem like it could take much more structural damage while staying in one piece.

Their path ended with a narrow opening, which they could only squeeze through one at a time. Coming out the other end, they found that they weren’t alone after all. Slowly stepping out into an open room, either side of the room was filled with frozen falmer. They almost formed a hallway or sorts. Dozens of them all stuck in place, weapons raised high.

However, the most shocking thing was a single man sitting on a throne at the other end of the room, at the very end of the hallway of falmer. A throne that was protected by an incredibly thick layer of glass that stretched across the width of the room. The man was wearing armour similar to Gelebor, and that left no doubt to his identity.

“So there is someone here after all,” Arven whispered to Serana. “Why couldn’t I smell him?” A single explanation came to mind, yet it didn’t add up.

“Do you think he’ll just give us the bow if we ask nicely?” Serana whispered back.

Arven rolled his eyes, gripping the blade in his hand tightly as he stepped forward. That prompted a slight movement from the snow elf sitting upon the throne, lazing with his head resting on one of his fists.

“Vyrthur, I take it?” Arven called out.

“What a pleasant surprise this is. After all these years, my brother still seems to have his uses. I suppose that fool sent you here to kill me?” Vyrthur called out, confirming his identity. “What did he offer in return, I wonder?”

“A bow. You haven’t seen one lying around here, have you?” Arven asked.

“Come now. You didn’t really walk into this place thinking you could claim Auriel’s Bow, did you?” Vyrthur asked, scoffing. His voice echoed off multiple surfaces within the room, coming through clearly despite the thick ice separating him from the rest of the room.

“Well, at least he’s getting straight to the point,” Arven whispered to Serana. “Something like that. I don’t suppose you know where it is?” Arven continued, speaking loudly so the elf could hear.

“Perhaps, yet you shouldn’t let that linger on your mind. There are more pressing things at hand,” the elf said as his eyes disregarded Arven, locking directly onto Serana. “You’ve done exactly as I had hoped, and brought her straight to me.”

The look on Serana’s face darked within a second. She immediately raised a hand, blasting a bolt of lightning directly towards the elf. Yet, the thick layer of ice took the hit with barely a crack, resulting in a bark of a laugh coming from the attack’s intended target.

“I don’t like this, Arven,” Serana said.

“I’d offer my thanks for delivering your fetching companion, yet I don’t wish to waste the energy on one of such little consequence,” Vyrthur continued. “Especially now as your usefulness has reached its end.”

Just as Arven was ready to respond, a part of him almost offended by those words, the sound of cracking ice rang out through the hall.

Of course, Arven thought to himself.

Raising his blade, he turned and stood back-to-back with Serana as the falmer came to life, immediately brandishing their weapons and charging straight for them. The ambush was over within moments, each of the creatures coming to Serana and Arven at the same time, yet with different intentions. They were trying to injure Serana, incapacitate her, but they were simply trying to kill Arven.

Arrows were aimed at Serana’s legs, her limbs, blades coming for non-vital areas, while Arven was served no such mercy. Yet, it was inconsequential. None of the attacks left a single mark on the pair. While the falmer were finally free from the ice, each only had the briefest chance to enjoy life once again before being struck down. Either by a blast of magic or a blade, Serana and Arven efficiently repelled each and every attack that came their way.

While the falmer had both numbers and aggression in abundance, they lacked any skill. And there was no way they could breach the sheer gap between what they were capable of, and what a vampire lord could do. No matter how they attacked, be it with magic, blade or claws, they couldn’t overcome that barrier.

After striking down the last falmer, Arven turned to face the throne where Vyrthur sat. The ice protecting him was somehow resilient, but he knew he had the brute force to break it down.

“I’m not in the mood to play his games. Watch out, Serana,” Arven said as he stepped in front of her. He inhaled deeply, preparing to break down the ice with pure force.

“Wait, Arven, watch out!” Serana yelled from behind him. As Arven was preparing to shout, Vyrthur closed his fist tightly as enough magicka surged within his fingers that both Arven and Serana could feel it clearly. As he did so, cracks of dim light started to break through the ceiling.

A second later, and the ceiling came crashing down on them. Several heavy chunks of stone were headed straight for them, leaving them little to no time to get out of the way. Instead Arven immediately looked up, still holding all of that energy within his chest before he shouted.

“Fus Roh Dah!” The force from his lungs immediately shot upwards, repelling the heavy chunks of stone as they fell. Some were sent back out into the sky, others crashed into other parts of the ceiling which in turn brought more rubble down within their area. As soon as he shouted Arven turned to Serana, pulling her close before crouching down and shielding her body with his own.

The sound of the temple starting to collapse was deafening. Some falmer that were still frozen started to come to life before they were instantly crushed by the rubble, their cries cut short. Serana, huddled under Arven, placed her hands on the ground and summoned a thick barrier of ice from the floor to emerge over the top of the pair, forming a protective shield which was immediately struck by some of the falling debris.

They both waited for the falling rubble to stop before Serana dismissed the ice barrier. “Good teamwork,” she muttered to Arven as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Enough!” Vyrthur called out as he stood to his feet, holding his hands out to either side of his body.

“Agreed,” Arven called back. “I think it’s about time you stopped hiding behind all that ice, Vyrthur.”

“So be it,” Vyrthur replied. The snow elf scowled at Arven, cursing the warrior under his breath. Then, all of a sudden the ground beneath them began to vibrate. Shifting about as thick cracks formed in the ice that clung to the stone around them. What was left of the roof began to crumble as well, as Vyrthur began to amass an incredible amount of magicka. An amount that would easily rival Serana.

“I will not let a random man of no consequence interfere with my plans. You will not ruin centuries of preparation!” Vyrthur proclaimed, his feet starting to lift from the floor due to the sheer mass of magicka he was channeling. Thick icicles, each the size of a falmer were breaking off from the ceiling now, yet they hovered in place with the sharp tip glistening in the dim light.

“Just surrender and give us the bow!” Serana yelled out, clearly getting tired of the fight herself. To her side Arven breathed in once more, readying his Thuum as the amount of energy Vyrthur was controlling was starting to give him pause.

“Death! First!” Vyrthur yelled. He almost screamed as he then suddenly released all of that magicka. The wall of ice in front of him shattered, and a searing wave of light and energy filled the room within seconds, the force behind it sending thousands of shards of ice and rubble towards Serana and Arven, each acting as a deadly projectile.

Arven placed a hand in front of Serana, shoving her back as he opened his mouth and shouted.

“Yol Toor Shul!”

The wave of energy and ice collided with the torrent of fire erupting from Arven’s mouth. Serana quickly hid directly behind him, shielding herself from the overwhelming heat coming from the man. The icicles immediately vapourised, becoming steam while pieces of rubble were burnt to cinders in an arc in front of Arven.

Everything his breath touched lasted less than the blink of an eye before it was reduced to nothing. Yet, the projectiles launched from Vyrthur’s magic still flew at blistering speeds in every direction that wasn’t towards Arven, colliding with walls and tearing down what little remained of the room they were inside. Thankfully, the ceiling directly above them had already fallen earlier, leaving nothing that could crush them as the structure continued to collapse.

Arven kept shouting until the stones falling around them made him lose his balance slightly, cutting off the flow of his Thuum as he shuffled his feet to try and regain balance. Serana instantly grabbed his side, keeping him upright. He could barely see anything due to the sheer amount of dust that had been kicked up as the temple came down around them, forcing him to raise a hand to his mouth as he started to cough.

“Are you alright, Arven?” She asked. He nodded to her, wiping his mouth as he stood up straight.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you? I didn’t get you in the flames, did I?” Arven asked.

Serana responded with a soft smile, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you. Now come on, lets finish this already.”

Arven agreed with that proposition rather easily, and the two stepped forward through the rubble. The wall that previously stood behind the throne, and the throne itself had both collapsed. They were essentially standing outside now, the dim light of the valley coming down to greet them while specs of dust in the air briefly reflected that light, shining for the briefest of moments. There was really only one path available to them, going straight forward.

As they did they found themselves emerging onto a balcony that surrounded what seemed to be a small shrine, identical to the waypoints they had used earlier on. As they approached the balcony Vyrthur stood at the edge, clearly wounded. There was a hatred in his eyes as he looked towards Arven.

“Are you done? Anything else you want to throw at us?” Arven called out, taunting the elf.

“How dare you… how dare you both!” Vyrthur called out. “You have no right to challenge me like this! I was Arch-Curate of Auri-el himself! I ruled this place, I had the ears of a god!”

“There’s not much left to rule, after the stunt you just pulled,” Serana said. “And we know, we’ve heard this story. All powerful before the “Betrayed” corrupted you.” As they approached Vyrthur, Serana readied her blade, holding it out extended to one side.

“Hah! You believe Gelebor? The sad excuse he tells himself to explain what I did?” Vyrthur challenged. “I was not corrupted by those base fiends. Look at me, look into my eyes. You know what I am. You both know what I am!”

Standing closer to Vyrthur now, it became rather obvious. The elf standing before them wasn’t a mortal. His eyes, now in clear sight and not clouded by ice and debris, were a deep, sanguine red. Exactly like Arven’s own.

Serana stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. “A vampire? How does that even happen, didn’t your god offer you any protection?”

“They don’t always,” Arven muttered beneath his breath, just loud enough so Serana could hear. Although, his was a rather unique case.

“Of course not. The gods don’t care for mortals. They didn’t care enough to protect an initiate, and Auri-el didn’t care enough to protect me from that initiate!” Vyrthur barked. As he spoke he took a step back, clutching an arm. One of his arms seemed rather badly burnt.

“Auri-el turned his back on me. I swore I’d have my revenge, and few things are sweeter than seeing his temple lying in ruins,” the mer vampire continued.

“You want to take revenge on a god?” Serana asked. She had stopped short of Vyrthur, the grip on her sword weakening slightly as she tried to make sense of the situation.

“Auri-el himself is far beyond my reach. But his influence on this world isn’t!” Vyrthur argued back.

Suddenly, it clicked. Arven’s eyes grew wide as he realised exactly why a vampire elf, in some frozen corner of Nirn had claimed Auriel’s Bow.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” he whispered beneath his breath.

Vyrthur smirked. “All I needed, all I need is his own weapon, and the blood of a certain vampire.”

Serana came to the same realisation Arven did less than a moment later. Yet her eyes didn’t grow wide in shock. They narrowed, her face stricken with fury as her eyes stared daggers into Vyrthur’s own. She looked at him with enough hate to make the elf pause, one foot starting to inch back, although he didn’t have far to go.

“It was you? You’re the reason for this sick, twisted prophecy?” Serana asked in disbelief.

“A prophecy that lacked a single, final ingredient. Not the blood of a twisted creature like myself. The blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour, a pure vampire,” Vyrthur continued. As he spoke, he continued to stay hunched over, holding his arm. Yet he wasn’t simply retreating away. His legs were tensed, preparing himself.

And as soon as he spoke, he lunged for Serana. Yet, vampire or not, despite his age, he was still no match for a vampire lord. As he lunged for Serana, drawing a dagger from his back, Serana deflected his striking arm with one hand before her other hand dropped her sword, balling up into a tight fist bound together by rage before she punched him squarely in the jaw.

Vyrthur, the former Arch-Curate of Auri-el’s temple was sent sprawling on the floor. Arven stood in place, half shocked and half impressed from what he just saw as Serana advanced towards the now prone snow elf.

“You were waiting here. All these years, spreading your sick prophecy… just so someone with my blood would come along,” As she spoke she grabbed her sword once more, the tip dragging slowly along the stone beneath them.

Vyrthur scrambled to his feet. He frantically called upon what reserves of magicka he had left, assaulting Serana with shards of ice. Yet she simply parried one, then blasted the other away with her own magic.

“You poisoned the minds of my family. My father. You brought ruin to my household, all so you could take my blood and fulfil your twisted desire for revenge?!” She yelled. Her presence was almost overwhelming, and Arven felt himself wanting to take half a step back.

Vyrthur summoned a weapon in his hand out of desperation, yelling as he raised it above his head and tried to strike down Serana. She simply stepped to once side, the blade missing her by a calculated inch before she struck out with the pommel of her blade. She stunned Vyrthur, forcing him to collapse back until he was resting on the railing at the edge of the balcony.

“Well too bad for you. I intend on keeping it.” Serana raised her blade in front of her, gripping the handle with both of her hands as Vyrthur got ready to swing his blade once more. The gap between them was clearly far too large for him to overcome, however. Even Arven felt no need to interfere, despite his ever-present urge to protect Serana.

“Let’s see if your blood has any power to it, shall we?” Serana spat. Then, as Vyrthur tried to attack her once more, she simply parried his blade to the side then ran her sword through his stomach. Vyrthur’s eyes were stunned with shock, his mouth hanging open.

“Centuries, of preparation,” he breathed out, all strength leaving his body in a few seconds.

Serana drove her sword in deeper, looking down as the elf’s blood began to stain her blade. “Hmm. I guess not. What a pity,” she said before drawing her sword free. Vyrthur collapsed to the ground, lifeless as a pool of blood began to spread out from his body.

Serana stood there for a moment in silence, looking down at the corpse. At the man who had created the sick prophecy which the Elder Scrolls latched onto. The man who had ultimately led to Serana being locked away for centuries. She exhaled, her breath shaking ever so slightly before she sheathed her sword once more.

Behind her, Arven slowly walked up to Serana. “Hey, are you okay?”

She didn’t say anything back, simply turning and burying her head into his chest. She raised a clenched fist, anger still coursing through her before she weakly beat it against Arven’s chest while he wrapped his arms around her.

He didn’t have any words of comfort to provide her in this moment. This was all he could think to do. So he held her, even as Vyrthur’s blood continued to spread out and reached his feet, staining his boots.

“I’m sorry, Serana,” he eventually said.

She looked up at him, offering half a smile. “There’s nothing for you to apologise for. But, thank you,” she replied. “I… I understand now, after everything that has happened, that my family was likely doomed from the start. Father would’ve latched onto another prophecy, if not for this one. Something would’ve tempted him, drove him to paranoia, an insane lust for power. But still…” she trailed off.

She then looked to Arven once more, her smile turning into a full one. “At least this way, I got to meet you,” she affirmed.

Arven found himself momentarily shocked, but he quickly had a smile come to his own face, returning Serana’s in kind.

“Come on, let’s find this bow and get out of here. I’ve had enough of this place,” Serana said. Walking back from the balcony, the two approached the shrine buried into the stone. As they stood before it, the ground beneath them rumbled once more as the shrine emerged. It was the exact same as the other waypoint shrines they had come across in the cave and at the entrance to the temple.

Unexpectedly, Gelebor emerged from the wayshrine. He walked out of the shrine, looking past Serana and Arven to the wreckage of chantry. Unlike the last time they saw him, he had a quiver strapped to his back.

“So, it is done,” he stated. A deep sigh came from Gelebor before he turned to Serana and Arven, nodding his head to each of them in turn.

“The restoration of the wayshrine can only mean one thing. Vyrthur is dead, as are the Betrayed that controlled him,” Gelebor continued.

Serana shook his head. “The Betrayed weren’t to blame, Gelebor. Vyrthur did this of his own volition.”

Gelebor’s eyes narrowed, the doubt evident on his features. “What do you mean?”

“He was a vampire. One of the initiates turned him, and Vyrthur turned his back on Auri-El after he didn’t receive protection against the disease,” Arven explained.

Gelebor turned away, a deep sigh escaping from the snow elf as he contemplated what he had just heard.

“A vampire. I see, that would… explain much, actually,” Gelebor said before turning back to them both. “Truth be told, it brings me a small amount of joy to know that the Betrayed aren’t to blame for what occurred here.”

“Why?” Serana asked. “The root cause doesn’t change the outcome.”

“Yet, it means that one day they may choose to leave their hatred behind and learn to believe in Auri-El once more. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve had faith in this. My thanks, to the both of you,” Gelebor said.

Neither Arven nor Serana shared the same hope as the man, yet they had no desire to remove what little hope Gelebor was clinging onto. Especially after murdering his brother.

Turning back to the wayshrine, a soft golden glow came from Gelebor’s hand. In response, a podium began to rise from the centre of the room. On top of that podium rested a brilliant, blinding bow. Both Arven and Serana had to look away as it was revealed, the light from the weapon radiating out with an incredible brightness. Thankfully however, it slowly dulled over time, allowing Arven to look at it properly. The bow was crafted beautifully. It reminded Arven of an elven bow, yet even he could tell the craftsmanship of this was far superior to almost anything he had seen before.

“Please, take it. You have earnt your reward,” Gelebor said.

He stepped forward, wrapping his hand around the riser of the bow. He half expected it to burn him, yet it didn’t. Taking a closer look, he could see the symbol of Auri-El etched into the weapon.

“Seems strange, a vampire holding a mythical bow of light,” Arven said.

“It’s still so incredibly bright. How are you looking at its closely?” Serana asked.

Arven looked back to her, confused. “Is it? It was initially, but now it’s fine,” he explained.

“Nope, it certainly isn’t fine. Perhaps Auri-El, Akatosh, whoever – decided that you’re eligible to use it, despite your blood,” Serana proposed.

“It is possible. Auri-El did choose to grant you entrance to his chantry, after all,” Gelebor added.

Arven hummed softly to himself, thinking. It did make a level of sense. Perhaps the god was allowing him to wield this weapon now, trusting him to not fulfil the prophecy as Vyrthur wished to.

Arven contemplated that for a moment or two, before he crouched down. He placed the bow on the ground before pulling some cloth out from a satchel on his belt, wrapping the bow up.

“What are you doing?” Serana asked.

“I was worried it’d be too bright, so I brought this just in case,” Arven explained. “We don’t need to use it right now, so no point in blinding you all day long.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Serana replied. “Thank you.”

Arven then turned back to Gelebor. “So, what will you do now?”

“My duty remains. Despite the destruction of this place, I am still a Knight-Paladin. I will protect this vale and everything it represents until the day I die,” Gelebor said.

“Are you sure? You may just be the last of your kind,” Serana said.

“And if I am, it would do little good to be the single snow elf roaming Nirn once more. I don’t believe that would bring any net positives to this world,” Gelebor replied. Arven found himself, unfortunately, agreeing. Especially considering how tense the relationship between men and mer was in Skyrim to this day.

“But before you go, you need something else. As powerful as that bow is, the power you seek lies in not only the weapon, but the arrows it may use,” Gelebor said as he unstrapped the quiver on his back. Holding it out, the quiver was filled with arrows crafted to a quality near that of the bow itself.

“What are these?” Serana asked.

“Sunhallowed arrows,” Gelebor explained. “While it draws power from Aetherius itself, channeling it through the sun, these arrows bring out the full potential of Auriel’s Bow. Regular arrows will strike with the fury of the Sun, yes. Yet, if you use these, they can cause bursts of sunlight to smite your foes.”

Arven accepted the quiver, strapping it to his back and readjusting the bow to make room. “Well, that certainly sounds like a useful weapon to fight a vampire with.”

“You said the arrows bring out the potential of the bow? Perhaps corrupting them is how Vyrthur planned to block out the Sun,” Serana said.

Gelebor frowned. “Yes, if those arrows were corrupted it could… twist, the nature of the bow. If anyone were foolish enough to try it. I hope, despite having the same nature as my late brother, that neither of you are so foolish.”

Arven looked to Gelebor. “Don’t worry, we came for this bow to ensure that it couldn’t fall into the hands of someone who wanted to twist it. Besides, I’m not planning on being a vampire much longer myself, if I can have any control over it,” he explained.

“Oh? If you would satisfy the curiosity of an old snow elf, why do you remain a vampire? I was under the impression that many a cure existed, although I am no expert,” Gelebor asked.

“We aren’t regular vampires. I was turned by Molag Bal himself, and I turned Arven myself. Having our blood come directly from a Daedric Prince makes most remedies… ineffective, to say the least,” Serana said.

Gelebor tried his best to hide the look of confusion on his face, clearly not quite understanding the dynamic between the two. Serana as the elder vampire, and Arven as her spawn. “Understandable. A curse from a Daedric Prince could likely only be broken by another Prince in turn. I wish you luck in pursing that,” Gelebor said.

Serana nodded her head to him in thanks. “Thank you for your trust. I promise, we’ll do our best to keep the bow away from those who would use it for any ill purpose,” she reaffirmed.

She then turned back to Arven. “Ready to go?” She asked.

Yet Arven didn’t respond immediately. He seemed deep, deep in thought, his eyes unfocused.

“Arven?” Serana asked. “Are… you okay?” She didn’t get a response for a moment more, even drawing Gelebor’s confusion as the man seemed to be off in a world of his own. Just as Serana was about to shake him gently, Arven’s eyes immediately turned to snap onto Serana’s own, the deep red colour seeming incredibly vibrant.

“Serana, I’ve got an idea,” he said.

The pair quickly departed after that. Arven rushed a goodbye with Gelebor, grabbing Serana’s hand and taking her through the waypoint back into the cave. He moved with an urgency she hadn’t seen before, rushing through the cave and following the flow of water to get to the exit. Despite being a significant distance from Whiterun, Arven claimed that they needed to return as quickly as possible.

Thankfully, when they emerged from the cave the Sun was nowhere to be seen. Arven broke out into a near sprint, yet by this point he had explained his plan to Serana. And, despite some hesitance, she understood his urgency. In part, she felt the same urgency, as she had been promised something rather incredible if Arven’s thoughts turned out to bear fruit.

Some hours later and Arven stood out on the balcony of Dragonsreach. The same location where he had trapped a dragon some time ago. He needed a somewhat secure place close to home, as what he had in mind was incredibly dangerous.

In the room behind him stood a small gathering of Whiterun’s guards, all who had their initial grogginess at being summoned at an irregular hour replaced with a level of anxiety and anticipation.  The Jarl himself was present, and Irileth stood ever by his side with her blade already drawn. As always, the woman was not happy to take part in Arven’s plan. Yet, she was going to do everything she could to ensure that this event went down without so much as a single issue. Lydia was there as well, her face formed into an uncharacteristic scowl. Specifically scowling at Arven, which was something the man hadn’t experienced before. He even felt a little shiver of fear as he saw it for the first time. And finally, a healer from the local Temple of Kynareth was also present.

They all waited inside, watching Arven through an open door. He had argued that they needed to be close, but not too close. The following minutes were going to become highly unpredictable, and as such he didn’t want anyone to be at risk of getting hurt as collateral, if things were to go south.

The only person that was standing on the balcony with him, slightly behind Arven, was Serana . She stood there with her arms folded, adamantly refusing to leave Arven alone despite him asking her to remain with the others for her own safety. She was arguably the most anxious of them all, alongside the man standing in the centre of the room. After relenting and allowing her to stand with him, Arven had warned her not to stand too close, but she couldn’t bear to be too far away. Especially as what he was about to do was rather dangerous. Incredibly dangerous, truth be told.

Taking a deep breath, Arven examined the object he held in his hand. A spherical orb wrapped in many, many layers of cloth. And even then, he could still feel the heat coming from it, piercing through his gloves.

“You might want to look away, Serana,” he said without looking behind him. Then, he began to unwrap the cloth, layer by layer. Each piece of fabric falling to the ground resulted in the heat and light becoming more intense, to the point where he could barely look at it. He felt like it was going to burn through the leather on his palm and sear his flesh.

As the final piece of cloth fell away, he held the irregular sphere in his hand. A shining, radiant gem that flooded the balcony with an incredible light which was blinding to Arven and Serana both. Even those waiting inside had to look away for a moment as the light filled the interior of Dragonsreach. As soon as it came to rest in Arven’s palm, free from the cloth bindings that he had stored it in so long ago, an overpowering voice erupted with enough power and volume to shake the foundations of the balcony.

“A tainted hand touches the beacon.”

Notes:

Hello again! It's been quite a while, I know. Apologies for taking so long with another update, but here it is! I've got the next several chapters in the works right now, so hopefully they shouldn't take as long. Unfortunately I was hit with a strong case of writer's block, and re-wrote this chapter multiple times. It's more of a linking chapter to get to the following one, with the next two chapters explicitly having a rather strong 'impact'. Plus, I'm in the middle of changing jobs right now, which is why this chapter took much longer than normal. But still, thank you for reading! I'm still planning on finishing this, and we're coming up to the home stretch soon so I'd like to finish it off by Christmas (no promises, though!).

 

Enjoy your weekend!

Chapter 26: Meridia, Lady of Infinite Energies

Several hours earlier.

 

“You’ll need to explain this to me again, lad. What is it that you’re planning on doing, exactly?” Balgruuf asked. He was sitting on a chair, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. The man was deep in thought. To his side was the ever-present Irileth, unimpressed as ever. Perhaps even more than usual.

“I need… supervision,” Arven said. “I think I know how to cure my vampirism, but it’s going to be dangerous, so there’s a very strong chance I might need help. A healer, in particular.”

“Because you’ve somehow gotten the bright idea to go talking to some Daedra,” Balgruuf added.

Arven nodded his head in agreement. After talking to Gelebor, he had a thought. An idea that proved hopeful in his mind, but also incredibly dangerous. He hadn’t thought of it previously, yet it seemed so incredibly simple when he took a moment to think it through. Gelebor had said that the only being with the power to remove a curse placed by a Daedric Prince, was another Daedric Prince.

And Arven had the means to contact one. Rather easily in fact, he had the means to do so in his house. Not just any Daerea, either. He knew how to contact one that absolutely hated Molag Bal. Back when he had acquired the weapon he had used up until turning into a vampire, he was reluctantly working alongside Meridia. A Prince who had instructed him to cleanse her temple of an undead presence. While he hated working under any level of daedric influence, this was the one time he could stomach it. And it return, he received a weapon that signified him as her champion. A blade stronger than any forged by mortal hands, capable of fighting even the strongest undead.

Not only would Meridia have the power, potentially, to cure him, she would revel at the chance to remove any influence Molag Bal had over Nirn. At least, that’s what Arven assumed.

“It’s the best chance I have of getting rid of his curse. Meridia hates Molag Bal with a passion, and she already claims me to be her champion,” Arven continued. “She’s the only being I can think of that has the power and the motivation to cure me.”

“Now how does a Daedra claim the Dragonborn as their champion? You have the blood of Akatosh, not some foul creature,” Balgruuf asked, seemingly angry and the implication.

“Daedric Princes claim all manner of things, yet that doesn’t necessarily mean they own them,” Serana explained. Of course, she was present at the discussion as well, standing up straight alongside Arven. “I’ve discussed this with Arven before. I think ultimately his soul provides him a level of protection from the Princes. Yet, that won’t stop them from arrogantly claiming otherwise.”

Balgruuf murmured to himself, resting his chin on intertwined fingers.

“I suppose there’s no other Daedra that could do this? Meridia is your best choice?” Balgruuf asked.

“I don’t know how to contact any others. And even if I could, I don’t have the means to bargain with them. They’d all demand something I’d almost certainly not want to give,” Arven said. “The only other Prince I could think of would be Sheogorath, but I’ve never spoken with him.”

“Not to mention, his… unpredictability is arguably more dangerous than Meridia’s hate,” Serana commented.

The Jarl hummed to himself for a moment, before following with his next question.

“Why here?” He asked. It was a natural thing to be curious about, after all.

“At first, I was going to take it back to her shrine. However… that’s a long trek, and being too close to the sphere is uncomfortable to say the least. Having it on my person for hours on end would likely weaken me and Serana both. I need a place that’s secure, with a healer close by. Not to mention I’ll likely need to rest afterwards. So, this seemed like a good location.” Arven explained.

“And you believe that if you ask her to cleanse you of your vampirism, that she will do so willingly?” Balgruuf asked.

Arven nodded. “I do. I… I don’t imagine she’ll make it painless, but I think she’d agree.”

Serana had a look of concern on her face the entire time that Arven spoke, and eventually turned to him, joining the group of those who seemed to be interrogating him about this ‘plan’.

“Arven, please rethink this. I know you’re eager to cure yourself. I want to see you return to your old self just as badly, but please. Daedric Princes are vile, malevolent things, and I know this better than anyone. Meridia is likely to cure you by simply killing you,” she pleaded.

“For once, I agree with her,” Irileth commented. “This is foolish. Attracting unwanted attention on Dragonsreach for no purpose.”

Arven glared at her. “There’s a purpose. An incredibly important one, at that,” he argued.

“I understand your desire to be mortal, but that has no implication on the safety of Whiterun. Keeping this city secure is my top priority, and I won’t risk it for your own,” she replied.

“Arven, remember what I told you about Meridia?” Serana asked, stepping back into the conversation. “She’s infamous among my kind. She’s all too eager to cleanse people, but in doing so she turns them into puppets. Mindless husks. She’d do the same to you,” Serana continued.

“She won’t. She wouldn’t dare. And if she does, I can fight it,” Arven replied, looking to Serana, his eyes set with determination. “Didn’t you say I’m the only person you know who’s turned down Molag Bal before?”

A small moment of silence came across them. Serana wanted to continue arguing, but she was conflicted. Conflicted with her desire to keep Arven safe, and her wish to support him. Plus, she wanted to see him back as a mortal worse than anyone.

The silence was broken when Balgruuf let out his characteristic bark of a laugh.

“Hah! You’ve changed recently, my friend. Where has all this confidence come from?” He joked, the previously serious look on his face replaced with a more relaxed one.

Arven looked to him, offering half of a shrug. He knew what Balgruuf was talking about, of course, but he didn’t feel like explaining the entire meeting with Durnehviir.

“I’m just eager to get this done, that’s all,” he explained.

“I’ve never met a man so eager to spit in the face of a Daedra before. One day you’ll stop surprising me, Arven. One day,” Balrguuf continued.

One person who was uncharacteristically absent from this meeting was Lydia. There was a reason for that, Arven knew she’d object almost as much as Serana was, and equally as much as Irileth. He felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her like this, but he promised himself that he’d make it up to her.

“My Jarl, please don’t speak as if this foolishness is already decided,” Irileth said, her voice almost sounding defeated.

“And why not? I don’t see a reason why we shouldn’t offer our help if Arven is already committed to this. Better we stand by ready to assist, than let him wander off to attempt this without anyone else to aid him,” Balgruuf said.

Irileth went to open her mouth once more, but Balgruuf stood up, cutting her off before she could speak. “I am yet to repay a sliver of the debt Whiterun owes this man. Our town has been besieged by Stormcloak and dragons both, and if not for him, they would have been successful and the ground beneath our feet would be nothing but rubble,” he stated, his voice firm. “If he asks, we offer our hand in aid. That’s the end of it.”

Irileth paused for a moment, before closing her eyes and exhaling softly. “Yes, Jarl Balgruuf. With your permission I will station guards on duty as well. I have no doubt that there will be volunteers wishing to help,” she offered.

“Do it,” Balgruuf said before turning back to Arven. “So, when did you want to do this exactly?”

“As soon as possible. I don’t want to delay this any longer,” Arven replied.

“Alright then. We’ll send for a healer now. When they arrive, alongside the guards, we’ll get this out of the way,” the Jarl said. “Someone go and grab Lydia as well. I understand why you didn’t want her here for the discussion, but I’m not going to leave the poor lass out of this.”

Arven exhaled, already dreading the confrontation with her. “You’re probably right. It’d be cruel not to let her know,” he said.

“I’m not doing this out of kindness, lad. I’m doing this as if I don’t, the woman would have my head!” The Jarl commented, his lips failing to hide a smirk that seemed far too childish for a man of his position.

Arven looked to the Jarl, smirking. “It almost sounds like you’re afraid of her. Perhaps even more than you are of Irileth,” he jested.

“Of course I am. Why do you think I entrusted her to you all that time ago?” The Jarl replied, before letting out a short laugh. Turning away, the Jarl then flagged down a nearby guard, walking over to order a runner for a healer. Irileth had already done so, but the guard wasn’t about to tell the Jarl that.

Arven shook his head with amusement. He was growing anxious now that the plan had been decided, yet taking to Balgruuf always managed to calm him down, somewhat. That would be short lived though, as he was suddenly dragged away.

Serana had approached him, grabbing hold of his wrist before pulling him off into a nearby room. She shut the door behind them, using slightly more force than she intended before pointing to a chair.

“Sit,” she said. Arven did so immediately, unsure of what was going on, but the tone of her voice was more than enough to have him obediently follow. Serana found another chair, pulling it up right in front of Arven’s.

She sat down, leaning forward and staring him directly in the eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do it this way, Arven?” Serana asked. As she looked into his eyes, a genuine hint of concern was present on her face, something which Arven saw immediately.

He reached out, grabbing her hands and placing them in his own. He gave them a soft squeeze, looking at her with a soft smile.

“I am, Serana. I need to do this, and this is the only way I can think of,” he said.

“The only way you can think of right now. We’ve got all the time in the world, Arven. We don’t have to rush this,” she said.

“We do. I do, Serana. I… This isn’t right for me. I’ll always thank you for saving me, and I don’t regret it for a second, but I’m not meant to live my life like this,” he stated, still holding onto her hands. “Plus, I can’t keep you waiting forever.”

He went to continue, but Serana immediately cut him off. “I will wait for you for as long as it takes, Arven. I’ll wait for a millennia if I need to. I just want to know that you’ll be safe,” she reaffirmed.

Arven’s smile grew slightly, yet it was a sombre smile. One he gave her to try and reassure her, yet he was more than slightly nervous himself.

“There isn’t a safe way, Serana. You know that as well as I do. No regular cure will work, and any other Prince is just as likely to try and trick me, or demand something outrageous. Meridia is the only one who stands to gain something from curing me, the only one I can barter with,” Arven explained.

Serana looked down to the floor, her wine-red hair forming a curtain that Arven couldn’t peer through. She squeezed his hands in return.

“I can’t lose you again Arven,” she whispered. “It broke me last time. If she kills you, or turns you into a mindless husk I don’t…. I don’t know what I’ll do,” Serana continued, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

“You aren’t going to lose me, Serana. I have absolutely no intention of letting a Daedric Prince kill me, not when I have so much to live for,” he said, looking directly at her. “Plus, I don’t think she has the strength to kill me.”

Serana looked up, scoffing. Her eyes were glassy as she looked back at Arven. “Doesn’t have the strength? She’s a Daedric Prince, of course she does!”

“Not here. Not this far away from her shrine. The Princes have limited influence on this world. If she didn’t even have the strength to cleanse her own shrine of the undead, how could she kill me? If she’s not playing along then I’ll just crush the beacon with my own hands, and she won’t be able to harm me,” Arven said, doing his best to reassure Serana.

She shook her head slightly, a gentle smile forcing itself across her lips. “You really have gotten more confident,” she said.

Arven raised a brow. “You think so?”

“Definitely. I think Durnehviir rubbed off on you. But, I think it actually suits you,” she replied.

Arven shifted forward ever so slightly on his chair, getting closer to Serana with her hands still in his own.

“Serana, I promise you. I’m not going to let her kill me,” he said, raising one hand to gently cup her cheek. “I still remember my promise, after I turned. I told you I’d give you my answer when I was mortal again. There is nothing in the world, on Nirn or otherwise, that can stop me from doing that. And I think I’ve made you wait long enough as it is.”

Leaning in closer, Arven brushed Serana’s hair aside and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, with Serana leaning in ever so slightly as she realised what he was doing. She exhaled, not out of a need for oxygen, but to try and release some pent-up stress. The anxiety boiling away in her gut from what was coming. But she trusted him, more than anything. And if he was this confident, maybe it would work after all?

The two stood, Arven grabbing Serana’s hands again to pull her up.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Arven prompted, his head motioning to the door that lead back to the main room. Serana didn’t respond, but she nodded, following behind him. Arven felt a slight level of relief after reassuring Serana, even if he was still nervous himself.

Yet that relief was banished as soon as he opened the door.

“Arven!” A loud shout echoed through the hall, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone inside. The source of the shout was a voice that Arven was very familiar with, but it felt wrong. It took him a second to figure out why. As he looked about the room for the source of the voice, he could’ve sworn that he saw the Jarl ducking away hurriedly.

Lydia stormed up the stairs inside the hall, marching directly towards Arven before ending up right in his face.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, her face almost furious.

Arven stood there, blinking several times out of shock. “Since when do you call me… never mind, didn’t someone explain this to you?” Arven asked.

“They did. That’s exactly why I want to hear this stupidity directly from you, because I don’t think even you are this much of a fool,” she retorted. Lydia then turned to Serana. “Surely you’ve told him this is a bad idea, my lady?”

Serana nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “I have, trust me. And so has just about everyone else,” she said.

Lydia looked back to Arven. He had never seen her this angry before, not even close. “You almost died, Arven – my thane. Why are you putting yourself at risk like this?” She questioned, the anger on her face mixed in with visible confusion.

Arven paused for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. “Look in my eyes, Lydia. You know exactly why. Even though you didn’t voice your concerns after I turned, I could tell. You know that this isn’t who I am. Just as well as I do,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean that you have to intentionally go and seek out the Daedra. How can you even fight something like that?” She asked.

“It does. It’s the only way. And it’s not the first time I’ve bargained with Daedra, either,” Arven said. He reached out, placing a hand on Lydia’s armoured shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Lydia looked at him. She wanted to refute him and continue to berate him for being a bloody fool, but seeing the colour of his eyes stopped her. She knew how painful it was for Arven to live like this, and couldn’t find it in herself to continue to argue with him.

“I knew I should’ve smashed that damn orb when you brought it back,” she whispered under her breath. “Okay. I understand, my thane.”

Standing up straight she set her jaw while reaching into a satchel strapped to her waist. She brought out another vial of her blood, offering it to Arven.

“Here. I wasn’t sure if you had enough, and you’ll need your strength,” she offered.

Arven paused, finding that his hand had instinctively reached out to grab it before he consciously stopped himself. He was thirsty, that much was certain. And he’d feel much stronger if he drank the blood.

“Arven, wait,” Serana said. “It might not be the best idea. If Meridia is going to purge you of vampirism, being hungry might reduce the strain on your body. If you’re feeling strong and you’re fully sated on blood, the vampirism inside of you will be stronger.”

Arven turned to her. “Seriously? So I should be weaker when I do this?”

Serana offered him a quick shrug. “Honestly? I’m not sure, this is all new to me. But if I had to guess… I’d suggest not drinking any. Focus on the strength you get from your soul, not the vampirism.”

Lydia looked down to the vial in her hand, momentarily conflicted. Arven took a step closer, placing his hand over the vial and gently pushing it back towards the woman.

“Thank you Lydia, sincerely. But that’s another reason why I need to do this. I can’t ask you to keep harming yourself for my sake,” Arven said with a gentle voice.

“I’m hardly harming myself, my thane. And it’s my choice, regardless,” Lydia said as she met Arven’s gaze. However, Arven’s eyes broke away, instead moving down to a bare section of Lydia’s forearm that wasn’t protected by her armour or her gauntlet. There was a visible line where she’d extracted blood from, and it was yet to fully heal.

“One scar among dozens,” Lydia reaffirmed.

“Dozens too many,” Arven retorted. “But again, thank you.”

Just as Lydia withdrew her hand, placing the vial back in a pouch on her waist, several guards entered the hall with a priest tailing behind them. They all seemed rather groggy, yet given the current time of day that was only to be expected. As they entered, Arven met the eyes of the priestess, giving her a curt nod in recognition. It had been quite some time since he spoke with her, yet the two had formed a level of mutual respect some time ago. Both from a desire to heal the injured, along with some help Arven granted the woman in restoring a tree in the centre of Whiterun.

“Maybe I should’ve done this at a more reasonable hour?” Arven half joked to no one in particular.

“Please, like you could wait another second,” Serana said as she stood at his side. “You’re surprisingly impatient when you want something.”

Arven let a soft chuckle escape his lips. But with each passing second, he was growing more and more nervous. Anxious for what was to come. It was manageable for now, but he needed to get this over and done with.

“I think it’s about time I went and got the beacon, Serana,” Arven muttered under his breath. It was barely audible, as if he was almost avoiding it subconsciously.

She looked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Want me to come with you?”

Arven shook his head. “No, it’d just be uncomfortable for you. The damn thing is far too bright even for mortals,” he said. Turning to Serana, he offered her a quick smile. “Mind telling the Jarl that I’ll be ready to go as soon as I’m back?”

She nodded to him, offering that sweet, kind, reassuring smile that somehow always managed to settle Arven’s nerves. Even if it was just a little.

“Of course. I’ll see you soon, then,” She said.

Arven nodded, locking his eyes on hers for a moment longer before turning away and briskly setting off towards his house. When he left, Irileth had started to explain the situation to those who had gathered around them. Most were confused, but all were willing to help. When Irileth mentioned that Arven had asked for assistance each one staunchly agreed to remain, despite the inherent risk involved. Balgruuf had been ready to step in and say a word or two if needed, but it seems that Arven wasn’t just a thane in title alone; he had truly earnt that position.

By the time Arven returned, everyone was in position. He carried the beacon in a small bag, wrapped over and over again in thick cloth. Even then, he had to squint when looking in its general direction. As he climbed the stairs up towards the balcony of Dragonsreach, he was met by Balgruuf who clapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you ready for this, lad? No one would blame you if you were to back out, you know,” Balgruuf said.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Not a chance that I’m going to delay this any longer now,” Arven said, looking back at the Jarl with his commitment to this plan written plainly across his face.

The Jarl nodded briefly, before giving Arven a single clap on the back as they both continued walking up the stairs. Arven went on alone through the two main doors leading out to the balcony. The small party of guards remained outside, each standing up a little bit straighter as Arven walked past. The only person that stood outside on the balcony waiting for him was Serana.

Arven gently shook his head as he approached her. They were standing alone on the balcony, the night sky spread out before them with the moon softly illuminating the pair. To their sides, the equipment used to capture dragons still stood. It had been cleaned recently, surprisingly. Perhaps after some recent events, the guards on station felt as if it couldn’t hurt to have the equipment remain in good condition.

“Serana, what are you doing out here?” Arven asked.

“You know exactly what I’m doing, Arven. I’m not letting you confront Meridia alone,” she said.

“This isn’t going to be pleasant. I’m not sure how much I can do to stop her from targeting you, if she tries. Being out here is dangerous, Serana,” Arven reasoned.

“Awfully rich, coming from the man willingly holding onto her beacon. I’m staying, Arven. You can’t convince me otherwise,” she said, arms folded across her chest.

Arven shook his head slightly, yet he couldn’t stop a small grin from emerging on his face. He felt slightly better with her close by, although that relief was mixed in with concern for her well-being. Yet there was nothing more he could do, except for confront the Daedra and try his best to bargain with her.

I really am a fool, aren’t I?

Grabbing hold of the sphere resting in the bag he had, Arven took his time in removing each piece of cloth. As it all fell away, both he and Serana ended up squinting, struggling with the beacon’s luminosity. As he unwrapped the orb he felt the eyes of the guards on his back, all of them peering out onto the balcony. If Arven turned around, he would’ve even seen Irileth watching with a morbid level of curiosity.

He felt the heat coming from the beacon even as it was still hidden, a heat that was quickly becoming intense. Overbearing. Yet he kept on going, removing more and more cloth until finally he had the beacon revealed, resting on an extended palm.

His hand felt as if it was on the brink of being burnt, even through the leather separating his skin from the orb. But that heat was nothing compared the wave of intense, bright light that erupted from the beacon shortly after it was fully revealed. Arven felt it seize his hand, an incredible pressure keeping his palm firmly attached to the beacon, leaving him unable to tear his hand away even if he wished to.

“A tainted hand touches the beacon,” came a powerful, booming voice that echoed around Arven. He didn’t know if it was merely in his head or if it was actually present, but he didn’t have the capacity to care. The orb was searing into his hand, as if it was already trying to apply a level of control over him.

Looking to his side, Serana had one hand raised, her forearm blocking her eyes from the intense brightness. She was half crouched down, but she refused to move any further away. He saw her lips move, calling out to him, but he couldn’t hear her.

“How the mighty fall. My champion, suffering from a horrid, accursed sickness surging through his veins,” the voice continued. “I can sense the darkness inside of you. It reeks.”

“Good to know you still recognise me,” Arven forced out through grit teeth. “Saves me the explanation.” Arven’s vision was quickly fading, everything around him turning into nothing but a penetrating, bright white light that left him unable to focus his eyes on a single point.

“I don’t believe it does. To the contrary, you owe me quite the explanation. First, for how you let yourself come into the company of such twisted creatures as the one to your side. And second, as to why you’ve discarded my artifact.”

The beacon all of a sudden felt heavy. Incredibly heavy. It was pulling Arven’s hand down to the floor, yet he did his best to resist it. The muscles in his legs were put under incredible stress as he tried his best to remain upright, defiant against the Daedric Prince. Yet despite his strength he felt his back bending, knees buckling.

“I died,” Arven spat out briefly. “And I was brought back like this.”

“And what killed you, I wonder? The very vampire that now hovers about you like a plague?” Meridia’s voice was enraging. It echoed about Arven’s head, repeating itself as it faded out into the background. When he heard it, it overpowered his other senses, leaving him incredibly disoriented. He never enjoyed talking to the Daedra, but this was on an entirely different level.

His vision started to clear ever so slightly. Emerging from the blinding light, a small shimmer came into focus before him. A cloud of golden mist, twisting about, surging ever so slowly through the void which he now found himself in. Each particle in the mist seemed to shine, and it was almost painful for Arven to gaze at.

He wasn’t sure if Meridia was making it this uncomfortable for him on purpose, but it wouldn’t surprise him.

“She is no plague. I died to a dragon. An undead dragon, which I killed along with dozens of minions surrounding it. I fell to my wounds after the battle, and she brought me back,” Arven said, struggling with each word. He left out a few details, not wanting to say how he didn’t really kill Durnehviir. Meridia didn’t need to know that part.

“Brought you back as a defiled walking corpse,” Meridia said. Her voice was like poison in Arven’s head. A loud, throbbing, disorientating presence he was desperate to get rid of. But he’d backed himself into this corner now, and he had to argue his way out.

“If only you served as a champion should,” Meridia continued, the implication in her words obvious. After Arven had claimed Dawnbreaker some time ago, the Daedra demanded that he continue to serve her. Directly. Take her weapon and purge undead throughout not only Skyrim, but past her borders.

Arven, of course, refused. He certainly used the blade to kill undead, but only when it suited him. As such, his last conversation with Meridia was rather unpleasant.

“I’ve done more than most,” Arven countered. “And I still continue to do so. Or are you not aware that there’s a plot to cast out the Sun from this world?”

There was silence for a moment, nothing but the white-hot heat in his palm and the shimmering golden mist hovering in front of him. Each second dragged on for far longer than it should as he waited for a response. He did, however, catch a glimpse of something else. He felt the softest of touches on his shoulder, and a faint shimmer in the shape of a woman at his side. It brought him a brief level of comfort. Something which he was incredibly grateful for.

Outside of Arven’s head, Serana was doing anything she could to support him. Yet unfortunately there was very little that she could do. As soon as Arven grasped the beacon the entire balcony was illuminated with an incredible, painful light. It became brighter than the Sun and she found herself retreating on instinct. Even the soldiers inside stepped away from the door, shutting their eyes tight as they were momentarily blinded by the radiance.

Serana only managed to step back, closer towards him through an incredible, defiant will. Although her eyes were closed, she reached out to Arven, placing her hand on his shoulder as she huddled up next to him. It wasn’t much, but she wasn’t going to let him go through this alone.

Back in Arven’s assaulted psyche, he felt a penetrating heat. An inquiring probe searing itself into his mind.

“Continue, mortal. What is it you speak of?” Meridia demanded.

“Servants of Molag Bal. Vampires off the coast, seeking a prophecy to blanket Skyrim in eternal darkness,” Arven said. He knew this was his best chance to win Meridia over. The idea of light being removed from Skyrim entirely would no doubt come as an incredible loss to her, and a victory for her rival.

“Impossible,” a single word stated as fact by the Daedra. Yet, she was wrong. And Arven could sense doubt in their voice.

“If it was impossible, I wouldn’t have spent the last few months scouring this land for Elder Scrolls and weapons to stop them,” Arven replied, his voice growing increasingly hoarse under the pressure exerted from the Daedra.

A deep rumbling came from inside his head, vibrations coursing through his body as the Daedric Lord simply laughed.

“And you expect me to believe that? You expect me to trust the words coming out of tainted spawn? The spawn of Molag Bal’s used, tossed aside plaything?” Meridia retorted.

Arven wasn’t sure if she was intentionally trying to goad him, anger him. But if she was, it was working exceptionally well.

“Do not speak of her like that. If not for her, I’d be a corpse and the prophecy would have been long since fulfilled. She is the reason light still lives in Skyrim,” Arven hissed.

“I am yet to believe this prophecy exists at all. The idea that Molag Bal’s spawn would work against him is laughable,” Meridia retorted.

By this point Arven had his eyes closed, trying to shut out the light. Yet it barely mattered, his eyes were still flooded with the intensity, his eyelids unable to do anything up against the sheer power of Meridia’s radiance.

“Yet, one question still remains. A vampire you are, you still willingly came to me. Called out to me. Why is that?” Meridia asked. Her voice seemed to carry a hint of curiosity to it, although such a fact was wasted on Arven. He was barely able to follow her words, as his other senses were assaulted.

“Cure me,” Arven just about demanded. “I’m going to kill the vampire responsible for all this, and I need to be mortal to do so. To wield the weapon I found, to wield your sword.”

That ‘laughter’ came once more, the floor beneath Arven shaking as the rumbling came back, shaking inside of his skull.

“So this is why you have claimed my beacon once more. You wish to be purified. You wish for that profane darkness to be eradicated from your body and soul,” Meridia stated.

“Something like that,” Arven hissed out. His teeth were grinding together from the pain.

“Eradicating that vile, accursed blood you carry is a simple task. Even if it seems to be all around you, clinging to you. For example,” Meridia started before her voice trailed off. A moment later and Arven felt that small comfort at his side get torn away. He turned around, his head spinning as he was unable to make anything out. Yet he could’ve sworn that he saw a faint shimmering outline of someone or something being violently thrown away from him.

In that moment, he felt entirely isolated.

“No!” He shouted, anger flaring up inside of him. Yet he didn’t resist it. He knew that if he was survive this, he needed to embrace it. Mustering what strength that gave him the Imperial somehow managed to push himself up onto both feet, grasping the beacon with his other hand. It only caused more pain, but seizing it between two palms let him feel as if he gained some level of control over it. His arms were bulging out from the effort it required, legs shaking as he struggled to stand.

“What. Did you do to her?” He demanded.

“I cast her out. Is that much not obvious? Why would I tolerate the presence of Molag Bal’s pet?” The Daedra responded, her voice casual, as if implying such a thing were obvious.

“If you hurt her, I swear that I will do everything in my power to make you regret it,” Arven said. The volume of his voice was rising, the power behind it rising as his blood began to flare up. Not his vampiric blood, it was his draconic soul that was stirring.

“You dare threaten me?” Meridia asked, her voice twisted with amusement and anger. “You beg for an audience, and now you muster the foolishness to threaten a Daedra? I should purge you where you stand!” Her words were oddly reminiscent to Arven. Brief memories of his meeting with Harkon reached his mind, and there was a small hint of irony. Polar opposites, sworn enemies. Yet both twisted by power and arrogance.

“Try me,” Arven challenged. By now he was standing up fully straight, despite the strain that it took. He held the beacon in both hands, digits clamped down on the grooves running across the sphere as he continued to apply more and more pressure. He didn’t know if Meridia could sense it, but he felt as if he could crush the beacon if he found out Serana had been injured.

“Know your place, mortal,” Meridia scolded. “You believe that since you carry the blood of a Divine, you carry an immunity? We Daedra have no fear of the sleeping Aedra. Akatosh did not save you when you died. I could destroy you on the spot and he would be powerless to help!”

“No,” Arven replied. “I don’t think you’re scared of Akatosh. You’re scared of me.” The anger he felt at the Daedra was reaching its peak. Like all the other Princes, he saw Meridia as a creature fuelled by pride and arrogance, one that used mortals as playthings to accomplish and further their own goals. Arven hated them, each and every one. And after he, and others, had suffered so much at their hands? He figured it was about time they did something for him in return.

“You’re terrified of a mortal that isn’t afraid of you. That isn’t compelled to follow you, or submit to your twisted desires,” Arven continued. “I’ve saved your shrine in the past. I could just as easily destroy it. And there’s nothing you could do to stop me. You could find another champion, perhaps. Yet you know that there’s no mortal alive on his plane that could stand in my way.” Arven spoke with an arrogance, and confidence that he rarely felt. Some of it may have been false bravado, to an extent. Yet the idea of Serana being insulted and possibly hurt? That anger gave him the confidence to stand up to anything, or anyone.

“So you could try and fight me. Or you can rid me of this curse, help me rid Skyrim of those plotting to cast Skyrim in eternal night. I’ll take up your blade again, sure. I’ll use it to rid Skyrim of the stain that exists, threatening its safety. But after that? You won’t have any more of a claim on my soul than you do now.” Arven continued. He didn’t even know if his words were getting through to Meridia. He could sense her emotions through the orb, and she was absolutely livid.

He felt the anger coming from the Daedra, seeping out through the orb. He knew that his hands had suffered serious burns. He wasn’t even sure if the leather gloves he had were still intact. But that didn’t matter. That heat coming from Meridia burnt in a way that fire could not. He felt the vampiric plague in his blood retreating from Meridia’s light. It simply could not exist where Meridia’s light shone, that much was obvious to Arven.

So he just needed that light to shine throughout his entire being.

“But if you’re so eager to prove me wrong, then do it. Try and turn me into a husk. Purge me. If you even can,” Arven finally forced out. Then he stood, feet planted, his hands tightly holding onto the beacon with his jaw grit as he waited for what was to come.

And Meridia didn’t disappoint him.

“So be it,”, the Daedric Prince decreed.

Arven screamed. He felt that light surging out from the orb, filling his body within a second. It felt like molten metal had been forcefully injected into his body, running straight to his heart before it was then pushed out to every vein, every artery. He felt it in his chest, his limbs, even in his skull. As the light flowed through him, the vampirism in his body immediately sought to fight it and push it out.

He felt his body instinctively start to transform on reflex. That ghoulish, horrid transformation that he suffered through once. Fingers starting to crack, bones beginning to ache and become disjointed while his skin darkened. As he screamed his voice changed, that terrifying howl of a vampire lord echoing throughout the balcony and out towards the hills behind Whiterun.

Yet it didn’t last. Despite the power of a vampire lord, Arven’s vampirism was no match for the hatred of a Daedra. His transformation was immediately cut short. That purging light seared the plague from his bloodstream, from every single cell in his body. Except it didn’t stop there. He challenged Meridia to purge him, and she took that challenge quite seriously.

He felt her power seeping into his body, yet it didn’t work for him. It worked to conquer him, leave him as a husk who’s only purpose was to do her bidding and leave her light in his wake. However, Arven had other plans. He had no desire to be turned into a Daedra’s servant. So even as he accepted that light into his body, he fought it. He looked deep into his soul, that vast near endless sea shifting about within his body filled with the power of dozens of dragons. Every soul he had won, every victory he had claimed over the beasts. Each was now a part of him, and that gave him a strength incomparable to anything else. As long as he’d embrace it.

And for this purpose, to rid himself of this curse and live once more? He’d embrace it all with arms wide open.

That power flooded through him. Even as Meridia tried to purge him, to turn him over to her will, he fought against it. She fought against the combined willpower of dragons, and they could be incredibly stubborn beasts. Arven was no exception to that. He refused Meridia’s influence. Even as he felt her authority, her command in the back of his mind, he simply refused it.

A part of him came to respect her power. Even as she was far away, on another plane of existence, she had such incredible strength to try and dominate him with. But it wasn’t enough. That ghoulish howl was replaced as the vampirism was struck out from his body, and his yell transformed. The roar of a dragon now echoed throughout the balcony. Arven spoke no words, but his voice carried the strength of the Dovah as it cascaded out past Whiterun, echoing throughout the plains and hills surrounding the city.

And with one final act of defiance, he mustered all of his strength and applied as much pressure as he could to Meridia’s beacon. It held firm for a moment, that intense heat feeling as if it was burning Arven’s skin off. Yet it could only hold out for so long, and as his voice filled Whiterun Arven crushed the beacon he held between his hands, flooding the area with one final explosion of light.

Then, exhausted, he collapsed.

Notes:

Hello again! Back with another chapter for you all, and it didn't take six months! I've had a couple of questions come up that I'd like to answer here, as I couldn't find the way to cleanly fit them into the story. I've had people ask why Meridia, and why not certain other Daedric Princes. The main reason is I believe it fits the best narratively, as she serves as a direct contrast to Molag Bal. However, for the others, a little bit of background on Arven:

He hasn't completed the companion's quest line. He knows of them, but isn't aware of their "secret". At the start of the story Arven was still suffering rather heavily from some form of PTSD, and his hatred of fighting was the exact opposite of what the companions promoted. So, they weren't exactly fast friends.

He also hasn't willingly worked with other Daedra. Meridia is the sole exception, and he did that as he could justify killing undead to gain a weapon that would help him out in the future. Following the questline for Dawnbreaker, he cut off contact with the Daedric Prince and essentially told her to get stuffed in the same way he did with Molag Bal.

There's certainly other ways for him to go about curing vampirism, but I felt this would work best. There was also the choice of doing it the in-game way, however while I feel that works for regular vampirism, being a vampire lord always felt a bit more... potent? A powerful blessing/curse should require something equally strong to counter it, at least in my mind.

 

Anyhow, thanks for reading! The next chapter should be out within the month. I've got most of it written, mainly as parts of it I've had envisaged for the past... year, at least? I hope you all have a good day!

Chapter 27: First Embrace

Notes:

Hello again! Just a warning before the chapter (minor spoiler alert), this chapter contains slightly more mature themes than what's been present so far. Twenty-seven chapters in, it's about time I earned that 'mature' rating. Enjoy!

Serana was thrown back violently. She felt an incredible heat, followed by an overwhelming force rip her away from Arven’s side. She had been hunched down next to him, staying as close as she could despite the immense pressure emanating from the Daedra’s beacon. She needed to do something for him, provide him with some level of support, so she did the only thing she could think of.

Yet, her support was ended as she was suddenly, forcefully, removed from his side. Meridia had cast her out effortlessly. She felt as if she had been struck by the tail of a dragon, knocking her off her feet and away from Arven. She ended up rolling across the ground, back through the large double doors leading into the interior of the keep before those doors suddenly slammed shut. She was left winded and in pain, but she immediately stood back up, anger and shock written across her face.

“My lady! Are you alright?” A moment later and Lydia was at her side, ready to help her if needed.

“I’m fine, thank you Lydia,” Serana replied. She held a hand to her sternum, feeling for any damage. There was pain, but everything seemed to be in one piece. But more importantly, she had been shut out from Arven.

Already some of the guards had moved to re-open the door, following orders from Irileth. But they couldn’t make the reinforced doors budge. Not even an inch. Lydia went to join them after checking on Serana, and even with half a dozen soldiers all pushing, their strength amounted to nothing.

“What in the hells just happened?” Balgruuf asked as he walked up besides the guards, adding his shoulder to the door to lend his strength. The light from Meridia’s Beacon was seeping through the cracks in the ground, and even now it still made it hard for Serana to see.

“I don’t know. That bitch just tossed me out,” Serana replied. The anxiety she felt earlier had intensified severely, manifesting as a deep pit in her stomach. She needed to be past those doors, at Arven’s side. Yet she felt powerless in the presence of the Daedra. A small part of her psyche summoned her past, briefly reliving moments where she was previously at the whims of another Daedra. Yet she cast those aside. She had no time to linger on such things. And she would never let herself be subject to a Daedra’s sick desires ever again.

Stepping up to the door Serana went to lend her strength to the guards trying to force it down, yet she felt a searing heat come from the wood when she got too close. It seemed as if Meridia was trying to keep her back, specifically.

With a deep scowl on her face and her hatred at the Daedra building up, Serana took a few steps back and planted her feet firmly on the wooden floorboards beneath her.

“Stand aside!” She commanded. The guards looked behind themselves to the source of the command, but as soon as they saw Serana each one ducked for cover. Serana was standing with one hand outstretched, sparks of lightning dancing between her fingertips.

As soon as the door was unobstructed, Serana sent out a blast. The lightning struck the door yet it was stopped an inch beforehand by an invisible barrier. The same barrier that was radiating so much heat towards her. It absorbed the blow leaving the wooden doors without so much as a scratch. The only result from her magic was the men and women around her blocking their ears to protect themselves from the noise reverberating around the room.

Irileth looked back to her, her lips moving as she went to call out to Serana but any words leaving her mouth were drowned out by another blast. Serana had raised her other hand, a defiant yell coming from the woman as she sent enough energy to blast apart stone straight at the door. The barrier absorbed it once again. Yet, this time, Serana’s eyes could just barely see scorch marks on the wood. While the ward had stopped most of her magic, it couldn’t stop all of it.

A few more shouts came her way, but she blocked them all out. Instead she held both her hands out to either side. She felt the magicka flowing through her body, from her heart out through each of her extended limbs. She summoned as much magicka as she could handle while still maintaining some level of control over it, feeling it pool in her fingertips. Lightning arced from her fingers down to the floor erratically as her energy built leaving marks on the floorboards before she held both her arms out before her, palms facing towards the door.

The last time she summoned this much magicka was against Durnehviir. It caused her to be inaccurate, as the sheer volume of magicka was unwieldly for just about anyone living in a human’s body, even if they were no longer mortal.

Yet, while she missed Durnehviir, the target in front of her was kind enough to be impossible to miss. The room had been evacuated, guards scrambling for cover as even those without any magical talents could feel the energy in the air. Lydia and Irileth had left the room with a look of shock on their faces. Awe at Serana’s sheer power, mixed in with a healthy amount of fear. The only person who wasn’t struck in such a way was the Jarl, who gave Serana an encouraging cheer before Irileth yanked him out of the room.

“I’m not losing him again,” Serana whispered under her breath. “And if you hurt him, I swear I’ll destroy every last shrine of yours on this planet, you shining bitch.”

Then, planting her feet solidly into the ground, Serana blasted down the door. She unleashed her magic at the same time as Arven destroyed Meridia’s Beacon. As the wooden doors were obliterated, splinters erupting like shrapnel, the violent light from the destroyed Daedric artefact erupted into the keep. That, along with the volume from Arven’s defiant yell and Serana’s incredible magic, was enough to stun everyone within the keep, forcing them to shut their eyes and cover their ears to try and maintain some level of balance and orientation.

Serana herself stumbled back, raising one arm to block the incredible light that almost physically hurt. She felt disoriented from the intensity, not to mention physically drained from summoning and releasing so much magicka in one blast.

As she slowly stood to her feet, her ears ringing and vision blurred, she found that the room had once again filled with guards. As they were all removed from the noise and light they were able to rush in much faster and they quickly burst out onto the balcony, running towards Arven.

Arven himself was lying flat on his back. Serana couldn’t see from how far away she was, but he was prone. Unmoving. As she looked at him in shock, the healer that Arven had requested knelt down at his side. She raised her hands over Arven’s torso and a bright golden light erupted from her hands.

“Wait!” Serana called out. She started to sprint out towards the balcony, shaking her head to try and reorient herself. A few seconds later and she came to a stop by Arven’s side, crouching down opposite the healer from the temple, Danica.

“Wait, did it work?” She asked, looking over Arven’s body. “You’ll hurt him if he isn’t mortal again.” The healer likely knew this, Serana thought, but she didn’t want to risk Arven suffering any more damage after his encounter with Meridia. She looked over his figure. He seemed mostly fine, except that his eyes were closed, and his leather gloves had been burnt away.

Each of his palms had suffered severe burns to the point where the skin was blackened. Raw muscle was visible, and she cringed ever so slightly at the sight. However, after a quick glance around she couldn’t spot the object that would’ve done this to him. There was no orb in sight. She could only find small shards littered around the place.

Oh Gods, he destroyed it.

That explained the bright burst of light. But taking the brunt of such a thing at close range, if he was a vampire, would be just about deadly. Trying not to get stuck in her thoughts she only just realised that there was a crowd of people surrounding her, waiting on her. The priestess was also looking to her, as if asking for permission to do something to help him.

Serana grasped one of Arven’s limp hands, her other hand readying a small amount of restoration magic tuned specifically to heal the undead.

“Use the slightest bit of magic on him and see how he reacts, okay?” Serana said to the priestess. Then, together, they both attempted to heal Arven.

As Serana’s fingers got closer to Arven’s skin, she immediately saw his skin start to lose its colour, becoming dry and withered within a moment. She pulled her hand back, the pit in her stomach lightening ever so slightly. She then looked to the priestess Danica, who’s magic didn’t seem to harm him at all.

There was a momentary leap of joy inside of Serana, but she ignored it for the moment. Arven still hadn’t opened his eyes. She focused, listening out intently and she could barely hear the sound of his heart beating away. Yet it was incredibly faint.

“Heal him, now! Please!” She almost felt like a fool for stopping Danica earlier, but she had to be sure. She shuffled back slightly as the restoration magic erupted from Danica’s hands, bathing Arven’s chest in the dull golden glow. Arven’s body accepted the magic, yet she couldn’t hear much of a change. His heartbeat remained soft. It was too slow.

Serana looked to Danica, who had sweat trickling down her forehead from concentrating. She was clearly pushing out as much magicka as she could, yet it wasn’t enough. Her magic seemed weak compared to what Serana would normally expect. While she had grown accustomed to Arven’s mastery of restoration, there were few mortals within Skyrim who could even come close to matching it.

So Serana got closer again, kneeling adjacent to Arven as she placed one hand on his torso, with her other hand grabbing her own wrist of the hand sitting on top of the warrior.

Danica looked to her, shocked. She instinctively went to pull away.

“Don’t stop, keep healing him,” Serana said even as her skin started to burn from being so close to Danica’s restoration. Then, focusing herself, she brought up the rest of the magicka she had within her body and pulled upon the centuries of training she had in her pursuit of mastering magic. She used two spells at the same time. Her hand on Arven’s torso erupted with an incredible amount of restoration magic. That golden glow filled their immediate surroundings and within a second Arven’s body was flush with it.

Her other hand, grasping her wrist, channelled undeath restoration. She used it as a barrier, sacrificing her hand momentarily while trying to shield the rest of her body from the damaging effects.

The crowd around them took half a step back, most shocked at what they saw. Essentially everyone in the room knew that Serana was a vampire by this point, and seeing such a thing left most of them confused and at least slightly worried. The only person who wasn’t at all shocked was Lydia, as she was one of the few who had a rough idea of the depths of Serana’s feelings for Arven.

Serana maintained the spell for as long as she could, even as her hand was burning. She felt herself starting to lose fine control of her fingers, her skin burning away. Yet even still, she maintained the spell. She kept it up even as Danica’s hands were shaking from exertion, even as both of them were reaching the very limits of their pools of magicka.

She did everything she could to keep the spell active until she saw Arven’s lips part, and he took a breath. A wide smile of joy and relief broke out over Serana’s face, yet a moment later a wave of fatigue crashed over her. She suddenly felt incredibly dizzy, lightheaded. She stumbled slightly, her body starting to fall to the side. Yet she was swiftly caught, arms surrounding her and preventing her from hitting the floor.

Arven sat up immediately as Danica only just managed to get out of the way in time. He saw Serana’s eyes fluttering, almost as if she was about to lose consciousness, so he instinctively reached out and grabbed her. As he did he saw the state of one of her hands. It was similar to his own, which were blackened and badly damaged, although his were showing the signs of healing.

Shit, Serana. What did you just do?

He was oblivious to those around him as he grabbed her injured hand, immediately flooding it with undeath restoration magic. He felt it burn at his hand, but he was too focused to realise exactly what that meant. He just inhaled, letting the fire in his soul stir as his body’s natural regenerative abilities limited the damage he took somewhat. The spell was maintained until Serana’s fingers started to twitch, the woman beginning to stir slightly in Arven’s arms. As she did he placed a hand on her cheek, tapping her lightly.

“Hey, Serana. You okay? What happened?” He asked, unable to make eye contact until Serana slowly opened her eyes back up.

As she did, she found herself stunned momentarily. There was a brief moment where she wasn’t sure if she was truly awake. As she looked back at Arven, staring deep into his eyes, she saw that familiar blue. That deep, piercing blue that she used to lose herself in. The colour that signified Arven’s return to the world of the living. The return of his warmth, and the return of the man she thought she might have lost forever.

She just looked at him, stunned. Unable to speak.

“Everything okay?” Arven asked, his lips curling up into a slight smile. As Serana remained silent he was just about ready to tease her. Such a thing came naturally to him, even as they were still surrounded by a crowd who were yet to see the colour of Arven’s eyes.

Yet any teasing would have to wait. As soon as Serana realised that what she saw was real, that Arven was one again a human, she reached up to him.

“You’re back…” she breathed. “Oh Gods.” Strength flooding back into her body, she flung her arms around Arven’s neck. She squeezed him tightly, so tightly that any other person would’ve snapped from the pressure. But she had Arven back, and she was never going to let him go again.  The force of her jumping on him caused Arven to fall back onto the floor, but he didn’t mind. Arven just immediately wrapped his arms around her once more, returning the hug as his face leaned against hers, Serana’s wine-red hair filling his vision. He could’ve sworn that he felt Serana shaking ever so slightly.

Yet, it was cut short as the sound of the Jarl clearing his throat reminded the two that they weren’t exactly alone. The two paused as Arven looked around them for the first time since waking up. He only then realised that the guards who had assembled to provide what support they could were all looking at the pair, various smirks and grins plastered across their faces.

He then looked to Serana, who just gave him the smallest of shrugs in apology. Arven shook his head slightly, pushing himself to his feet before offering a hand to pull Serana up alongside him. He inhaled deeply, feeling his lungs fill with air as his heart beat powerfully within his chest to a strong, steady rhythm.

As he stood, Balgruuf approached him.

“So, it worked then?” He asked, looking at Arven.

The Imperial looked back, nodding ever so slowly. “It seems like it,” Arven said as he looked down at his hands. They were still burnt, but after channelling regular restoration magic for a few seconds those burns continued to fade away.

“I think I’m a mortal again,” Arven stated, unable to stop an incredibly wide grin from breaking out across his face.

At his side, Serana was looking at him. She was silent, but her mind and her heart were both going crazy in this moment. She turned to the Jarl, giving him the briefest of looks, as if pleading with him. As she did a few guards who personally knew Arven came up, clapping him on the shoulder while offering their congratulations. Danica also stepped in front of Arven, doing her duty to ensure she was okay. Yet Arven just offered his thanks, reassuring the woman that he was fine.

Thankfully for Serana, the Jarl picked up on her intentions within a second.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. Everyone, get back to your posts or back to your beds. The Dragonborn has to rest, no doubt,” Balgruuf barked out. The guards immediately obeyed, the balcony becoming busy for a moment as men walked off, some gossiping and making sly jokes about what they all just witnessed.

Lydia stepped up to Arven’s side, looking at him with a brief smile. “Are you okay, my thane? Do you need anything?” She asked.

Arven turned to her, ready to reply, but the Jarl interrupted them both. “He’ll be fine, Lydia. I’m sure he just needs some rest and a proper meal,” Balgruuf said.

The Jarl then stepped up to Lydia, guiding her away with a hand on her shoulder before whispering in her ear softly enough that only she and Serana could hear. Arven, with his senses now dulled, couldn’t.

“Perhaps it’s best if you stay in the keep tonight, Lydia,” the Jarl suggested.

As he did, Serana grabbed Arven’s arm and pulled him away, hurrying off with him. She essentially dragged him for a few steps, but it didn’t take long for Arven to catch on, and the pair started to briskly walk out of the keep.

“Come on, Arven. Let’s get you home,” Serana said to him, her voice barely a whisper. Her chest was flooded with emotions, and she needed to get to a private place before she could feel safe in letting them all out.

As soon as they emerged from the keep, the Sun still some hours from rising, she leaned up against him. One hand held Arven’s own, and her other hand wrapped around his arm, Serana resting her head on his shoulder as they walked side by side back towards their house.

Arven had dozens of words come to his lips. He had so many things he wanted to say in that moment, but he needed to wait. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them, and he needed to fulfil that first before anything else. As they walked side by side in the cold night air, he felt a small shiver come to him. He felt the cold once more. Even Serana noticed him shivering slightly and she looked to him, an incredibly beautiful smile crossing her face. It seemed like such a small thing, yet it signified something they’d both been anticipating for quite some time now.

Eventually they reached Breezehome and Arven opened the door for Serana, letting her inside. She stepped in first before turning around to look at him, reaching up to discard her cloak and toss it over a nearby chair. With the two finally alone, Arven closed the door behind him, the dull sound barely reaching his ears. That’d take some more time to get used to. He’d been a vampire for just long enough so that the overstimulation of all his senses was normal. Now, being human again, it felt like everyone was whispering, muffled. Like he was hearing everything through a thick cloth.

But that didn’t matter. He was human again. He was alive again.

Arven closed his eyes, taking in another deep breath in his home, just because he could. He savoured the taste of air, the way his lungs longed for it. Ached for it. It was funny, how something so simple could be so missed. However, any other thoughts he had were quickly erased, and for good reason.

A few meters away from him, Serana was standing. She was looking straight at him. After taking a few steps towards him, she reached out. Her fingers traced along his arm, reaching his hand where she found the fresh scars from the burns he had acquired during the cleansing. Her fingers eventually moved down until they interlaced with Arven’s own, squeezing his hands tightly.

He felt how cold her skin was again. It was almost soothing.

But as soon as she felt his own skin. As soon as she felt the warmth coming from him again, a warmth she had been craving, she bit down on her lip and tried to contain her composure. Ultimately, she failed as tears started to well up in her eyes.

Raising a hand, Arven cupped her cheek – wiping the tears away with his thumb. “Hey, hey it’s alright. I know you’re happy, but there’s no reason to cry,” he said with a half-cocked smile. If he was being honest with himself he’d admit that he was struggling with his emotions. He’d barely had a second to think to himself, let his new situation truly sink in. But one of them had to be strong. At least that’s what he thought.

Serana tilted her head back, offering him a smile in return. But there was something else behind that smile. It was pure, but there was a deeper, more intense longing hidden away. Something she’d been suppressing for some time now, waiting for Arven to become human once more.

And he’d been supressing the same urges.

Without another word between them Serana rose onto the tips of her toes. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling Arven in close as she forced her lips onto his. He didn’t resist. The first kiss was brief, passionate yet fleeting. Arven felt the air being stolen from his lungs as a shock ran through his body, the feeling of Serana’s lips on his own jolting him awake in a unique fashion that he hadn’t felt before.

When she pulled away Arven immediately found that he didn’t want her to, his lips following hers for just a moment until they parted and he looked back into her eyes. Arven had previously thought that he was getting used to her beauty, but time and time again he was proven wrong.

He just couldn’t believe how incredible Serana was, in every single way.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that, Arven,” Serana said as she reached up to brush some of his messy hair out from his eyes. But one kiss wasn’t enough. No, that just gave Arven a taste, stirring something up inside of him.

This time he initiated the kiss, stealing her lips before she had a chance to react. He placed his hands on her hips, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled her closer. Then, with the taste of her lips on his own once more he wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close for a second before one hand then slid further down to her thighs. With his fingers digging in ever so slightly he lifted her up effortlessly.

A second later and he had her suspended, holding her in the air as she wrapped her thighs around his waist. This kiss was the most passionate one Arven had ever had. Serana pushed her lips against his with surprising force as she ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. Her body was pressed against his, as if trying to remove any gaps between them that might have existed. Her hair fell across his face, feeling ever so slightly ticklish, yet such a sensation was beyond overwhelmed by many others present in Arven’s mind right now.

The embrace continued as Arven started walking towards the stairs. Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming, burning for air. Serana’s eyes widened in shock for a moment as she realised that he needed to take a breath, chuckling nervously as she muttered some sort of apology.

Arven just let out a small chuckle in response, that huge smile breaking out across his face once more while he once again took in Serana’s beauty. She had a small amount of his saliva on her lips, a product of their second kiss being slightly messy. Which was to be expected, all things considered. But seeing that alone made him want more. This time he placed a hand on the back of her head, only needing one arm to keep her light figure supported as he pulled her in for another kiss.

As the pair walked up the stairs their embrace graduated from an awkward, first embrace into something far more heated. Serana had one hand on his back, clawing at him, grabbing him, while her lips parted and her tongue danced out to meet Arven’s own. She pulled on his waist with her legs, and before long felt a heat – and an urgent need from below his belt pressing up against her.

There was a momentary awkward pause as they reached the door to Arven’s bedroom, the man fighting the urge to touch every part of Serana’s body with the need to get the damn door open. By the time he found the handle he tossed the door backwards with too much strength, snapping a hinge before carrying Serana inside.

She went to make a remark, but before she knew it she had been tossed back, landing on Arven’s bed. There was a slight moment of disorientation as she hadn’t expected it, considering how lost she had become in that kiss, but she was quickly brought back to reality.

Arven was standing at the foot of the bed, tearing off his shirt and tossing it to the side before he climbed onto the mattress, directly over the top of her. He couldn’t help but stare at her in that moment. Lying on her back, her wine-red hair had spread out beneath her figure, her stunning eyes looking straight back at him. He found himself being hypnotised, intoxicated by the sight. That incredible figure resting beneath him almost taunting him, coaxing him to explore each and every part of it.

“How are you so beautiful?” He breathed out, his own messy hair hanging down over his face as his hands were at either side of Serana’s shoulders, holding himself above her.

In response Serana reached out, running her fingertips over his bare chest. She did so twice; the first time gently, then the second time she traced over the same lines with her nails scratching against his skin. Just hard enough to cause the slightest amount of discomfort. But in this context? It felt good.

“You talk too much,” she offered back with a cocky smile. Just after she did she felt Arven seize her wrists, forcing her hands down to either side of her head. A moment later and his lips were on her neck, kissing along her delicate skin, down to her collarbone. An answer which she had no issues with whatsoever.

She writhed beneath him, feeling his weight on top of her. Her lips had parted, a long, sweet sigh escaping from her which just spurred Arven on even more. She went to speak, yet her wrists were suddenly released before she felt Arven grab hold of her shirt and rip it apart. Buttons went flying and she immediately complied, wriggling out of her shirt before her hands then went down to Arven’s belt.

Arven suddenly had the briefest moment of clarity, pulling away from Serana for a moment. She looked to him, confused.

“Hey, wait,” he started, catching his breath. “Is this okay? I don’t want to rush you into this, or pressure you,” he said.

Serana let out a slight chuckle, grinning at him as she shook her head. “Are you kidding? I’m not waiting another fucking second for this you dolt,” she said. She then pulled him back in, forcing another kiss on his lips. It only ended as she caught his lower lip between his teeth, nibbling on it before pulling away.

“But, thank you for checking,” she whispered to him. “Now take your fucking pants off.”

Arven nodded, helping Serana as she went back to undoing his belt. It didn’t take long until they had stripped him down entirely, and as they did Serana wriggled out of her own pants leaving her wearing nothing but her undergarments. As soon as his naked figure was exposed, he reached for the sheets, getting ready to pull them over the pair.

Serana, however, had other ideas. Knocking his hand away she then twisted about, wrapping her legs around Arven before she pushed him onto his back and mounted him.

“Not a chance,” she breathed out. “I want to see every part of you.” As she spoke she reached behind her back with both hands. She swiftly unclasped her bra, removing it and tossing it on top of the pile of growing clothes at the foot of Arven’s bed.

Arven looked awe struck as she did so, taking just a second to admire her body. His hands went to her hips, running up her perfect figure until he was cupping her chest in each palm. Serana’s body was relatively slim, a narrow waist that filled out into hips wide enough that Arven could spend days digging his fingers into them without ever having his fill. Her chest filled out Arven’s palms perfectly and he found himself stunned by her incredible beauty. That momentary daze he was in was immediately shattered, however, as he felt Serana’s cold fingers sliding down his torso until eventually her digits had found her way to that pressing, aching desire of his.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out. The coldness of Serana’s fingers, along with the incredible sensation from her touch was enough to blank out everything else in his mind. Serana’s own breath was taken away as she felt his body react to her touch, aching into her palm as she looked down and took in every inch of Arven’s figure.

As she held him like that her other hand ran over his bare chest and stomach. She saw all those scars once more, his skin now having regained the colour it had previously lost. She found herself entranced by his figure, the stories being told through the countless marks on his body. As she did though, she was brought back to the present when Arven’s hands were removed from her chest and went straight back to her waist. He pulled her forward until her hips were angled directly above his crotch.

As soon as he did, she then couldn’t wait any longer. Lying down on top of Arven she used one hand to slide her undergarments aside, and a moment later she pressed her lips to Arven’s once more as she angled her hips and fully accepted him. Serana’s mind stopped working for a moment as she finally felt him inside of her for the first time, her eyes fluttering slightly while she tried to maintain some level of composure.

Yet Arven had other ideas. With one hand wrapped around her slender waist, he used a free hand to brush her hair aside, his lips barely an inch away from her ear.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He whispered before he started to slowly move his body underneath her. She grabbed one of his arms, fingers digging in as she momentarily struggled with the overwhelming sensations. It had been centuries since she last did this, and even then she knew this was different to what she remembered.

Sex was one thing, but giving yourself to the one person you loved most in the world? That was something Serana wasn’t quite ready for. But, only a few seconds in, she knew that there was a serious risk of her getting addicted to this.

Such a thing was hardly a concern for her, though.

She looked to Arven, stealing another kiss from him just as he caused her to let out a sweet, passionate moan. Each kiss they shared was more heated and frantic than the last, any level of composure quickly leaving them behind as they got caught up in the other’s embrace.

“No, it’s not too much,” she breathed. “It’s fucking perfect.”

Those words only served to spur Arven on, that fire deep within him burning away harder. As soon as he knew Serana was comfortable, that he wasn’t going to cause her too much pain or discomfort, there was no barrier left in his mind that stopped him from doing whatever he pleased. Nothing to stop him from ravaging her. And that’s exactly what he did.

He left no part of her body neglected. His fingers roamed over every part of her. He tasted every part of her, studying how she reacted to each and every touch. Feeling her body twitch, hearing her take in a sharp breath whenever he found just the right spot. And those reactions only spurred him on, a chain reaction where he wasn’t going to stop until they were both thoroughly, entirely exhausted.

Serana’s voice echoed throughout Breezehome as the two finally embraced each other. She just simply couldn’t get enough of how Arven made her feel utterly complete, both emotionally and physically. And Arven just couldn’t keep his hands off her, refusing to let go of the woman he cared for so much.

Until the morning came, the two shared that embrace together. Arven’s bed became a mess only a few minutes in, yet each one had a near endless pool of stamina to draw on, and hours to spend getting to properly know the other. Serana’s memories all blurred together, her brain barely functioning as she rode a wave of sheer pleasure for long enough that she lost track of time. From the moment she started to ride him, feeling everything he had to give inside of her, she was entirely his.

Even as he flipped her around, letting Serana feel his entire weight pushing down on her as he took her from behind. As she laid on her back, her legs wrapped around Arven’s waist with her hands cupping his cheeks, refusing to let him get any air as she stole his lips over and over again. Through every moment of that night, they each wanted for nothing, as they each had the thing most dear to them right there in their arms.

There was one memory that each shared, however. One that remained crystal clear, even throughout the haze of passion that drifted in their minds from the moment Arven broke his door and tossed Serana down onto his bed.

That memory of sitting upright, holding Serana in his arms as she controlled the pace. One of her arms wrapped around his broad back, her other hand resting on the back of his head as she stared into his eyes. She felt that pressing need from him building up to a climax for the first time that night; one of many to come. And as her hips writhed about in his lap, as he held her in place, Serana feeling truly safe in his grasp, she looked deep into his eyes.

Staring into his blue eyes, she breathed out the words she had been holding onto for so long.

“I love you, Arven,” she whispered to him. “Gods I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long.”

An impossibly bright smile broke out onto Arven’s face as he heard that, and he was unable to resist the allure of her lips once more for another kiss. But he broke it off after only a second, as he still needed to give her a proper reply.

“I love you too, Serana,” he told her. “More than anything in this world.”

It took a couple of hours before the two took any sort of break. They both eventually ended up in a heap, Serana sitting on Arven’s hips, lying down on his figure while Arven’s chest was rising and falling, his skin glistening with sweat. Neither of them knew the time, and neither of them cared.

Arven let out a soft murmur, looking at Serana as she laid across his chest. He offered her a smile before his head fell back onto the pillow, a groan now coming from the man.

“Gods, I’m thirsty. I need to go get some water,” Arven said, preparing to push himself up. Serana disagreed with that idea, though, placing one hand on his shoulder to push him back down.

“Nope. You’re not leaving here just yet,” she said. Then, she held a hand up above Arven’s hand, summoning an icicle that hovered above Arven’s head.

“Open wide,” she said before she then heated up the ice, causing a stream of cold water to fall down towards Arven. It splashed on his face momentarily before he opened his mouth, drinking the water until the ice was fully melted.

Raising a hand to his face he wiped away some of the water, looking to Serana with a disapproving frown.

“Really?” He asked.

“What? You said you were thirsty,” Serana replied, moving about until she was cuddled up next to him, hugging the side of his body with one of her legs draped over his own.

“Sure, but – ah nevermind,” Arven said before he rested his head back on a pillow, closing his eyes. He was far too content, too happy to complain about Serana toying with him a little bit.

Serana traced lines around on his skin with the tip of her finger, humming softly to herself. Arven in turn pulled her closer, lying on his back with Serana resting in one of his arms, his free hand gently stroking her hair. After the night they just had sleep was finally starting to catch up with him. However, another thought came to Serana’s mind.

“Hey… can I ask you for a favour?” Serana asked.

Arven looked to her, slightly confused. “This seems like a strange time to ask for one… but sure?”

Serana shrugged, seeming almost shy in that moment. “Well, I didn’t want to ask earlier and ruin the mood.”

Arven raised a brow. “It would’ve taken a lot for you to manage that, Serana. What do you need?”

Serana raised herself slightly, pushing herself up with one arm so she could look down at Arven. “Well, to be blunt… you aren’t the only one that’s thirsty. I might be just a little parched. More than a little bit, truth be told.”

Arven’s eyes widened. “Oh! Right, of course you are. Do you want me to get a vial now?” He asked, raising himself up. However Serana firmly pushed him back down. She was getting rather fond of doing that.

“Really? I think we’re a little past me drinking your blood out of a vial, Arven,” she said. A moment later and she had mounted him once more, the sheet falling off her slender figure. Arven blinked a few times, and it didn’t take long until Serana felt that now familiar urge from him beneath her.

“Really? Still raring to go, are you?” She said, playfully teasing him. “And it’s much, much better from the source, as you’d know. Actually, wait… you only drank out of vials, didn’t you?” She asked.

Arven shook his head. Looking back on this moment, he’d see it as a time where an innocent white lie might’ve been the preferable route.

“No, not the first time. Lydia cut her neck open for me after I turned, so I know what you mean,” he explained. Serana just looked at him, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What?” Arven asked.

“Lydia, hmm? So you sunk your fangs straight into her neck?” She mused, folding her arms across her bare chest.

“I… yes?” Arven said, only just now realising that he might’ve messed up.

“Remember what I said a moment ago about killing the mood?” Serana asked. She looked at him, almost glaring before that look broke out into a childish smile. She then laid down on top of him, her hair falling across his face and chest.

“Kidding. But, if you’re okay with it, I’d much rather drink it from you,” Serana said. “Only if you’re okay with it, though. You can say no, please don’t just do it for my sake if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Arven reached up, moving some of Serana’s hair out from his eye so he could see her better. “It’s you, Serana. Of course it won’t make me uncomfortable. I’m guessing you don’t want to drink it from my arm again though, right?” He asked.

Serana shook her head, then leaned down to press her lips against his neck, on the opposite side to where he’d gotten scars from having another vampire tear out his flesh. She gave his skin a soft, gentle kiss before her fangs ever so slowly pierced his neck. They slid in effortlessly, sharp enough that Arven barely felt a thing. He only knew she’d started feeding due to the sound reaching his ear.

The first time he heard it that sound had made him squeamish. Yet now? It didn’t bother him in the slightest. He placed a hand on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair as she fed from him for the first time in what felt like months.

As she fed, Serana had her hands on Arven’s shoulders, and her grip was subconsciously getting progressively tighter and stronger with every passing second. It wasn’t until Arven tapped her on the back that she realised, pulling away with a shocked expression.

“Sorry!” She quickly said. “Sorry, I think I got a little carried away.”

“Just a little?” Arven remarked, his lips curled into a smile. He raised two fingers to his neck, going to heal the wound, but Serana grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“Nope. I can do that for you,” she interjected.

“But that’ll burn you,” Arven replied.

“You just gave me your blood, silly. It’s the least I can do,” Serana said before she held two fingers to Arven’s neck, healing him within a second as her skin burnt from the magic. She didn’t flinch or show any discomfort though. After, she raised her hands above her head, stretching out before running her fingers through her long hair. The entire time she had Arven blatantly staring at her figure.

“Gods, I forgot just how good you taste,” she breathed. Flexing her hands, magicka started to spark between her fingertips as she felt the power from Arven’s blood rushing through her body. The effect that his blood had on her felt even stronger now than it did previously, somehow.

“Better now?” Arven asked, his hands returning to Serana’s thighs as she remained on top of him.

“Better. Much, much better. That woke me up. Your blood gives me so much energy, I could swear it actually makes me stronger,” Serana said. Looking down at Arven, her smile turned into a rather suggestive one. Drinking someone’s blood was a rather personal affair. That, combined with their current… situation, had Serana’s thoughts lingering on the past night that they had just spent together.

Grinning, she grabbed Arven’s wrists, pinning them down at his side as she began to shift her hips about, shuffling back on Arven’s figure until she could feel him pressing up against her once more.

“You know, I think I need to get a bit of revenge from earlier,” Serana breathed.

“Revenge?” Arven asked.

“Mmhm. You seemed to enjoy pinning me down, tossing me about,” Serana replied. “And that blood has me feeling… worked up.”

Arven tested her strength momentarily, but he found that she was using quite a bit of her own power to keep his arms down. She wasn’t just playing, she was using enough force that no mortal would be able to break free.

She leaned down, brushing her lips across his cheek before reaching his ear.

“Now you’re going to lie there and behave while I burn through some of this newfound energy, understand?” Serana stated. Instead of waiting for a response, she kissed him once again on the neck where she had just fed. She then moved his arms up above his head, forcing one of his wrists on top of the other. Arven put up a little bit of a struggle, making her work for it, although he didn’t come close to properly fighting back. He hardly wanted to.

With his arms above his head, Arven then let out a slight gasp as he felt a shocking cold. Serana had frozen his wrists together with her magicka, locking them in place against the headboard of his bed. She then placed both hands on his chest, effectively pinning him down.

“Serana…?” Arven started, looking up at her. Any further words were robbed from his mind however, as Serana reached beneath her to guide him inside of her once more.

And once again, Arven’s memories became a blur as he and Serana embraced the other. The only difference being, of course, their swapped roles. That didn’t last forever, though. While he was happy to let Serana take control for a little while, he eventually broke free and took over once more. He simply found it irresistible, with Serana’s naked figure so close at hand.

By the time the two of them were properly exhausted the light was starting to shine through a window in Arven’s bedroom. Normally his window was properly covered by a curtain; Arven had made sure that it didn’t let any light in when he was a vampire. But during their activities, things in the room had been… knocked about. As soon as the light shone in on the pair, who were both spread across the bed in a tangled heap, Serana immediately withdrew behind Arven.

A soft groan came from her as she reached for a sheet, pulling it up.

“Arven,” she started, her voice trailing off.

He turned to look at her, raising a brow as she hid herself underneath the sheets. “You alright there?” He asked.

“Sunlight,” she murmured. “Go fix it.”

Arven looked over to the window, confused for a moment. It was only then that he realised he had a small amount of sunlight shining directly onto his hand. He raised his arm, looking at the light with a gentle smile creeping across his face as he felt the warmth from it once more. That pleasant thought was interrupted by Serana’s foot, kicking him lightly under the sheets.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered. Standing up, still entirely nude, he walked over to the window, fixing the curtains and making sure no sunlight could enter the room.

As he did, he felt Serana’s eyes staring into him from behind. He felt momentarily shy, for some reason. He didn’t exactly know why, Serana had seen every part of him in the previous few hours.

“I could get used to this view, you know,” Serana remarked as she made no attempt to hide her gaze.

Arven rolled his eyes, walking back over to the bed before collapsing in a rather unceremonious heap right next to Serana. She shifted about from the movement, the mattress moving underneath her.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?” She whispered softly, looking over to him.

“You’re the illusionist, you tell me. But I surely hope it isn’t,” Arven replied.

“By the way, this might be an excellent time to take that day off we’ve been talking about,” Serana mentioned.

Arven looked down to her, raising a brow. “Oh yeah? And what would we do all day?” He asked.

Serana placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him closer. “Oh please. Even you aren’t that dense,” she said with a hint of a smile before she kissed him again. A much more gentle kiss than most they had shared in the previous hours, yet she loved it all the same.

“I’ll admit, it’s pretty damn tempting. But I think I need more than just a single day,” he said. “Might be better to wait until we have that house off in the woods somewhere, nice and isolated.”

Serana’s smile grew a little bit wider, refusing to take her eyes away from his. She almost felt hypnotised as she looked into his eyes again, her favourite shade of blue looking back at her.

“Hey,” she started. “Say it again, would you?”

“Say what again, exactly?” Arven asked. He was fairly sure he knew what she was after, but it couldn’t hurt to make her work for it just a little.

She placed a finger against his chest, poking him softly. “You know exactly what I want to hear, Arven. It’s rude to keep a woman waiting, you know.”

Arven chuckled to himself briefly. He placed a finger underneath her chin, lifting it slightly. “I love you, Serana. And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like,” he said before kissing her once more.

Serana lingered on that kiss for a moment longer before pulling away. “I love you too, Arven,” she replied before closing her eyes, and relaxing against him with a sigh.

“Didn’t believe me the first time? Or are your memories a bit scattered?” Arven jested.

“No, nothing like that. Although it is a bit of a blur,” Serana responded before placing a hand directly over his heart. “I just needed to make sure those words came from here, and not someplace down lower.”

“I mean… a bit of both, maybe?” Arven said, almost posing it as a question. In return, Serana held a finger against his ribs and zapped him lightly.

“So, what now then?” Serana continued after a moment. “I know we shouldn’t lie down here forever, but I’m struggling to think of anything that could motivate me to get up.”

“Well… there’s something I need, actually,” Arven prompted.

“What, something more tempting than I am right now?” Serana asked, pressing her body closer to Arven as she said so.

“Oh, that’s tough,” Arven replied, looking up at the ceiling as if deep in thought.

Serana pushed herself up, looking down at him with a rather unimpressed look. “Someone really needs to teach you how to talk to women, Arven,” she said, poking at his side gently. “If you don’t give me a damn good reason for wanting to leave this bed, I’m about to zap you relentlessly.”

As if right on queue, Arven had a sheepish smile come to his face as his stomach grumbled. It was loud, and he instinctively placed a hand over his lower abdomen.

“I might just be a little bit hungry. I haven’t really eaten in… well, in a while,” he explained.

Serana’s eyes widened for a moment as the realisation set in. She knew nothing about transitioning back to being a human, but Arven hadn’t eaten anything solid in far too long. There’s every chance he’d be starved, potentially malnourished.

What’s worse, it was actually a good excuse, and she could hardly zap him from that.

“Alright, fine. We’ll go get you something to eat,” Serana said, reluctantly sitting up properly and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. “But you need a bath first.”

“I do?” Arven asked. Now that he was focusing on it, he was famished, and wanted to eat as soon as he could.

“You’re covered in sweat, and we just spent the last few hours with each other. I know your senses are dulled, but trust me,” Serana replied. Arven couldn’t exactly argue that point.

Arven let out a sigh, following behind Serana as she stood up and walked outside of the bedroom door. He only then saw the damage he’d caused to the door the night before, but he found that he barely even cared.

“Alright, fine. A bath sounds nice, actually,” Arven said.

So a few minutes later, he was relaxing in the bath, hot water cleansing his skin of sweat while he tried his best to relax. Yet he wasn’t alone. He had Serana in his lap leaning back against him, and she seemed to be in an even better mood than he was.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Arven asked.

“I’d hardly call it a plan. More, a spur of the moment decision,” Serana said. “Plus, since I made this bath for you I think it’s only fair, no?”

Arven responded by wrapping his arms around her waist, relaxing back against the bathtub as he did so.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me, Serana,” he murmured.

“My my, tonight really is a night full of firsts, isn’t it?” She quipped in response.

Arven let out a grumble of disapproval, but he was far too content to care. He closed his eyes before he exhaled, speaking the draconic word for ‘fire’ softly under his breath to heat up the water a little bit more, while being careful not to warm himself up too much. Serana looked over her shoulder at him as she did so, studying him.

“You really don’t seem to struggle with that anymore,” she commented.

Arven looked down, peering through one open eye. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Being the Dragonborn. You almost seem… content with it now,” Serana explained.

Arven shrugged, leaning his head back while closing his eyes once more. “I suppose so. Talking with Durnehviir helped me actually understand how my soul works. And now that I’m human again? Being the Dragonborn doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. It’s just a source of strength I can pull on,” Arven said, feeling that power deep in his gut, idly rumbling while waiting for him to call on it.

“Well, I’m glad. You’ll need that strength, especially after turning back into a mortal,” Serana commented.

“I don’t think that’ll be much of an issue. I was strong as a vampire lord, sure. Quick as well. But with the amount of souls I’ve absorbed, I’m confident I could keep up with just about anyone now. As long as I embrace it all,” he replied.

“You think so?” Serana asked, her fingers idly roaming across Arven’s forearm. “You think you could overpower me, even without being a vampire?”

“Didn’t I demonstrate that a few hours ago?” Arven commented with a sly smirk, earning him a soft jab in his side from Serana’s elbow. “The only area I’m weaker in now is magic,” he said, extending a hand as he summoned a small amount of conjuration magic. Of course, without his enchanted gloves or vampiric blood, his conjuration was far weaker than it used to be. Slightly better than before due to constant practice as a vampire, but still weak.

Serana’s hand moved over his own, softly correcting his magic in the same way Arven did for her when she was trying to grasp restoration magic. “Don’t worry, I can teach you. Besides, your strength is what we need against father. That, and your voice. I’ve never witnessed a single person wield as much power as you can when you shout,” Serana said. She was being truthful. While her destruction magic was masterful, she knew that she couldn’t match Arven’s Thu’um. Seeing him cripple Durnehviir with a single shout was proof enough.

“You haven’t even seen half of what I can do, either,” Arven replied.

“Oh? You can do more than just breathe fire and yell things down?” Serana asked, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

In response, Arven grasped Serana’s hand, lifting it up in front of her. He then whispered softly, quiet enough so that Serana could barely make out the words. A second later and she no longer felt Arven’s fingers intertwined with her own, as everything from his forearm down turned into a shimmering mist that seemed to retain the shape of his arm, yet passed through her effortlessly.

“I sure can,” Arven replied as he moved his hand through Serana’s own, back and forth. It felt a bit strange and it wasn’t something he did often, but turning ethereal had saved him in the past. Although there had been more than one occasion where he’d stubbornly taken a blow rather than shout, given his past hesitation to accept what he was.

“You can turn ethereal?” She said, her voice sounding shocked.

“Sure seems that way,” Arven said as his arm slowly returned to its physical state, his fingers entwining with Serana’s once more.

“I don’t even understand. How can you do that by speaking a few random words?” Serana asked. The Thu’um seemed to defy everything she knew about magic, everything she had studied. She was partially confused, partially fascinated, and partially angry that such powerful ‘magic’ was hidden behind a mostly lost, ancient language.

“Beats me. I never really tried to comprehend it. I only needed to know enough to be able to use it,” Arven said. “I don’t actually understand the language logically. I just… feel it, I suppose.”

“You never thought to learn how to properly speak it?” Serana asked.

Arven shrugged. “Didn’t want to focus on it for any longer than I needed to,” he offered.

Serana tilted her head off to one side, humming. She understood of course, given his past anxiety over it. But it still frustrated her slightly. So, she decided to change the topic. There had been a question hovering on the brink of her mind for quite some time now. Although before the night they had just spent together, the question was slightly different. More wondering if something were true, rather than when it came to be.

“Hey, Arven,” she started, exhaling softly as she rested her torso back against him entirely. Her head was on his shoulder, her hair covering most of his chest as she allowed herself to completely relax. “When did you know?”

Arven looked down at her, curious. “Know what, exactly?” He had an idea, but he wanted to make sure.

“When did you know for sure that you loved me?” She asked. She didn’t make eye contact; she felt slightly too vulnerable in that moment. But she still wanted to know.

Arven had a soft smile cross his lips. “I… well, there were moments when I realised I cared for you far more than I’d ever thought I would. I was confused initially, when you showed some level of care or concern whenever I got hurt. When I get injured, most people are worried if I am still able to do a job. Still able to protect them. You seemed to be more worried if I was okay for my own sake, no one elses. That was new,” Arven replied.

He hadn’t started to answer the question, but Serana wasn’t about to stop him. She just kept one of his hands in her own, squeezing it gently while resting against his frame.

“And since it was new, that confused me. Then later on, hearing about what your parents put you through in order to become vampires made me irrationally angry. I still vividly remember holding you when we had that fight outside of Fort Dawnguard. You were upset, and I wondered for the briefest of moments why that bothered me so much. All I knew is that I wanted to comfort you,” Arven continued. He was almost rambling at this point, but it felt good to say it out loud.

“And your incessant teasing, nagging. Trying to remove my helmet, taunting me, staying close to me. If it was anyone else I would’ve been driven mad a long, long time ago. Yet with you… I couldn’t get enough of it. You took me to Oblivion, and I didn’t even care because I was with you. And by that point I had put so much faith in you. I’d never allow anyone to come with me when I fought dragons. Partially because I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt, but mostly I just never trusted anyone to cover for me. Yet somehow… by that point I trusted you with my life. And you’re the only person I’ve ever had that level of trust in,” Arven said. His voice was growing quieter as he spoke, turning into more of a whisper as time went on.

Serana tilted her head up, looking at him with a gentle smile. She reached up, placing a hand on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. But she didn’t interrupt him.

“But to answer your question, I knew for certain shortly after I’d turned. You were doing your best to guide me through everything, and you told me that you’d have even given up your own vampirism to save me, if you could have,” he said, looking Serana in the eyes. “It shocked me, knowing that you’d give up so much to save me. I was trying to rationalise it, make sense of it, so I thought it myself ‘what would I give to save her if the situation was reversed’? And when I thought about it hard… I knew I would’ve given the same answer you had. I’d do anything for you, Serana. I’ve never had anyone care for me like you have before. And somehow, the first woman to do so just happens to be the most confident, remarkable, gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.”

His answer was rewarded with a kiss. With one hand on his cheek, she guided him closer, her lips showing an impossibly bright, wide smile moments before she kissed him. It wasn’t full of passion like other times their lips had met throughout the night. It was incredibly tender. Soft. As she pulled away, Arven savoured the sensation of her lips against his, along with the feeling in his stomach he got whenever they kissed.

“Thank you,” Serana said, her voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever talked about me like that, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard words so sweet.”

Arven shrugged, ever so slightly embarrassed. “You deserve them. Every one,” he replied.

“Can you say it again?” Serana asked. Arven knew what she was after this time, but he felt like making her work for it a little.

“Oh no, not yet. Now it’s your turn,” he said. “Don’t think for a second I’m not asking you the same question now.”

Serana pouted, her cheeks slightly inflating as she looked up at him. She looked cute. Incredibly cute, but Arven didn’t waver. He just shook his head slightly before she then turned back around, huffing.

“Alright, if you insist,” she exhaled as she relaxed back against Arven once more.

“It was when you died,” she said. It was a blunt, honest answer, and Arven could’ve sworn he felt her shiver slightly when she said it. “But there was something long before that happened. That moment was just what made me realise it.”

After she spoke Arven looked down at her, his eyes prodding her for more information.

“You aren’t getting off that easily,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh fine,” Serana replied, trying to fight off the slight embarrassment she felt. “Well, there was always something different about you. I normally keep people at arm’s reach. Most of the people I knew previously wanted to get to know me almost in a political sense. The daughter of the head of the most powerful vampire family in Skyrim. But you, you were so different from what I was used to… I couldn’t help but be curious. And that curiosity ended up with me getting to know you. Wanting to learn more about you, the way you think, the way you see the world. After being alive for so long I thought I knew how the world worked. How people work. Yet, you proved me wrong,” she started.

“And before I knew it, I just couldn’t get enough of you. I wanted to study you, test you, learn from you. But I didn’t accept that I had feelings for quite some time. I told myself I was interested in you purely in a platonic way. That there wasn’t anything deeper. They were all lies. And then you died, and I realised the truth,” she said. She paused for a moment afterwards to collect her thoughts. Thinking of that time, watching the life leave Arven’s eyes was a horrid memory for her for multiple reasons.

“I was falling for you, hard, but I didn’t realise it until that moment. I remember walking with you in the Soul Cairn, asking you about your family. When you told me that they wouldn’t care about what I was, I just had these childish thoughts of actually meeting your parents. It feels stupid, but… I had this warm feeling in my stomach at the thought of you being so proud introducing me to them. I told myself I was just hung up on the idea of having a welcoming family, that’s why I enjoyed the thought so much. But no, I loved the thought because it was with you. I felt… safe whenever I was with you. I felt like I had a home.” she said.

As she spoke she felt Arven’s forearms wrap around her waist, pulling her in and squeezing her tight. Making her feel comfortable. Safe.

“Then, when you died, I felt a pain so terrible I couldn’t even comprehend it. The torture I went through to become what I am now was… horrific. But even so, seeing you die was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. And I knew that I loved you then, because I would’ve given absolutely anything in this world to bring you back,” she continued. Her hands came to rest on top of Arven’s as they remained wrapped around her waist, and she felt him gently kiss her head as she spoke, a small gesture that filled her with warmth.

“And how could I not love you? You’re selfless to the point of detriment, incredibly stubborn and an absolute fool at times. Yet you’re incredibly caring, kind… all while being the strongest and by far the most incredible man that I’ve met in centuries. If ever,” she said.

“Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity, Arven?” Serana asked as she looked back at him, hiding behind a small layer of sarcasm to hide how vulnerable she felt. But she was just met with an incredibly warm smile as Arven offered her a gentle nod.

“More than enough,” Arven replied. He felt that this was no time to tease her. Not when they were being this honest with the other. “Thank you for saving my life back in the castle, Serana. I know I was in a dark place back then, but… I couldn’t be happier that I’m still here. That I’m with you.”

Serana looked back to him. Arven raised a finger, moving hair from her eyes as he looked into them. Her eyes were slightly glassy, but they were incredibly beautiful.

“I love you, Serana. More than I ever thought was possible,” Arven said.

Even though she had heard it already, Serana couldn’t stop herself from reacting to those words. She caught a lump on her throat, her smile growing impossibly bright as she looked at him with all of the love and admiration in the world. They each gave the other a look that they would’ve thought impossible months ago, as they each felt a connection deeper than anything they knew existed.

“Thank you for being the one to wake me up, Arven. I love you too, and I forever will.”

Notes:

One more chapter down, closing in on the end of the story. This chapter has been a long, long time coming, and the delay was partially due to me being rather pedantic about it. I had re-written parts countless times, so hopefully the end product came out well! Once again, thank you all very much for your support, and I hope you all had a great holiday period over the new year wherever you are!

Chapter 28: A Final Trek Home

Serana had her chin resting in one hand, the fingers of her other hand idly drumming on the table in front of her as she let out a breath. She was watching a rather crude display, but almost found herself entranced in a strange sense. Her eyes narrowed softly, focusing intently as she tried to figure out why she couldn’t look away. She was almost offended by what she saw, yet for some reason her judgemental, inquiring look quickly gave way to a soft smile breaking out on her face.

“Do you have to watch me eat?” Arven asked, his hands currently bringing a fresh leg of lamb up to his face. He was surrounded by multiple plates, some empty, some full of food that had just been brought out. Sitting at a table in the corner of The Bannered Mare, he was single handedly providing the kitchen with more than enough work to keep them busy as he tried to fill his stomach. One of the workers, Saadia approached in a hurry, taking one plate away while providing another with fresh bread. Arven paused what he was doing, picking up the bread to tear a chunk out of it with his teeth before his efforts went back to the leg of lamb.

Serana sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, what else would you have me do?” She asked.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Arven replied. After the previous night he was absolutely starving. It only got worse as he and Serana left his house. As soon as he was no longer dwelling on certain other things, the hunger properly settled in and became near unbearable. He ended up almost dragging Serana through the front door of the inn. She didn’t even have time to put a disguise on them, so several guards and others from the city who recognised him were giving Arven not so subtle glances, along with the occasional head nod or a bit of light hearted teasing.

“Discarding me so quickly after you’ve had your fill of me?” Serana asked, giving Arven a look of faked disapproval.

Arven frowned at her, pausing what he was doing. “Oh come on, you know I don’t mean it like that. I just feel a bit bad that you can’t really… participate?” Arven replied, motioning to the unreasonable amount of food on the table.

“It’s quite alright. I’m rather full, so I don’t mind. Plus considering how long it’s been since you last ate, I’d rather you eat until you’re satisfied,” Serana said. As she said that, the taste of Arven’s blood came back to her memories, stirring up some hunger inside of her. But it wasn’t a hunger that came from a need. No, it was just a desire. But she rather liked having that desire softly boil away inside of her.

“You need your energy, after all. For various things,” Serana continued.

Arven tried his best to ignore the implication, focusing instead on the excess of food he had at his disposal. Despite how much he had eaten he was still hungry. Weeks and weeks of not eating had clearly had its effect. Serana didn’t mention it to him, but the warrior was looking noticeably slimmer as well.

“But, as much as I hate to interrupt you we probably should figure out what to do next,” Serana offered.

Arven raised a brow, chewing and swallowing his food before speaking. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asked.

Serana tilted her head, her facial expression prompting Arven to continue.

“We’ve got the bow, so now we go and take care of your father,” Arven stated in a calm voice.

“Do you think the bow will be enough?” Serana asked. Despite the progress they had made so far, she had a small amount of doubt burning away inside of her. Partially because Harkon was still her father, and partially because she knew just how strong he was.

“The bow is just insurance. I can handle him,” Arven said while looking Serana in the eyes.

She raised a brow, studying him for a few moments. “You truly believe that, don’t you?” She asked.

Arven nodded curtly before taking another bite out of his meal, a small groan of happiness escaping from the man as his hunger was slowly satiated.

“You are a mortal again, remember. He won’t be alone,” Serana countered.

“Sure. But, do you remember when I fought Durnehviir? When I killed him?” Arven asked.

“I’m assuming you’re referring to that shout, before you collapsed?” Serana asked, the memory still vivid within her mind.

Arven nodded, finishing up with his current plate, picking it up and placing it on the growing pile to his side. “Do you think Harkon could survive that?”

Serana didn’t respond for a moment. The thought was almost foreign to her. In her mind, Harkon was more than just a force to be reckoned with. He was the strongest vampire within Skyrim, likely one of the strongest within Tamriel.  She had him up on a pedestal of sorts, even if it wasn’t intentional.

Yet, she had never seem Harkon conjure as much power as Arven did in that moment.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him struggle against anything. Even before I was locked away, the only person I know of who could stand a chance is mother. And she was terrified of him,” Serana responded. She was giving it serious thought, her brow furrowed slightly. “And, now that I think of it, he’s had centuries to continue getting stronger while I was asleep and mother was trapped,” she added.

Arven sat back, exhaling slightly as his stomach was beginning to grow uncomfortably full. “Speaking of that, I actually wanted to ask you. Do you want to go get your mother first?” Arven asked.

Serana opened her mouth to speak, but she paused. She didn’t seem to have an answer. As she thought about it a part of her wanted to see her mother again. However she also remembered how close Valerica was to striking Arven down. While she came around to support Serana during the fight last time, she wasn’t sure if she had faith in her mother to make the right choice two times in a row.

“I don’t think so, no,” Serana responded. “As soon as this is all over, it’ll be one of the first things I do. However… I’m worried she would end up as a liability during the fight. Her fear of father is too strong.”

Arven took a moment to watch Serana’s face as she spoke, before he finally nodded. “Alright then. It’ll be the two of us against your father,” Arven spoke. There was no hesitation in his voice, or fear. He seemed fully committed to the idea of fighting Harkon. Even as he thought back to their first meeting, when Harkon’s presence made him tremble, a part of him simply wanted to meet the man once more to prove how steadfast his resolve had become.

“And dozens of other vampires,” Serana added. “Even if we can handle father, he’s not alone. Plus, since he was willing to turn Garan, he might’ve turned a few more.”

Arven raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the fight with the new vampire lord. “Do you think he’d risk it?”

“Perhaps with one, or two others. Any more and they’d be too likely to throw a coup. But even then, you can’t handle three vampire lords, plus however many court members are there,” Serana stated.

Arven nodded in agreement. “Maybe it’s worth going back to the Dawnguard first. Bring them along,” he offered.

Serana scoffed. “Seriously? Last time we were there they tried to kill us, remember?”

“I remember. But, they could seriously help us. And if I go back as a human, they won’t have any ground to stand on if they try to refute us,” Arven said as he felt the weight of the food start to affect him, the man having to fight off the drowsiness that came after having a heavy meal.

“They’re zealots, Arven. They’ll convince themselves of anything if they believe it to be right,” Serana argued.

Arven paused, mulling over the thought in his head. He could definitely use the help, no matter how confident he was in his own strength now; fighting dozens of vampires at once was incredibly dangerous. But on the other hand, he’d almost certainly be sentencing some members of the Dawnguard to die.

“Actually, do you think I could draw them out of the castle?” Arven asked.

“The Dawnguard? Or the vampires?”

“Vampires,” Arven replied, forgetting that both factions were based out of a castle of sorts.

“As in away from the castle? No chance,” Serana responded.

“Not away, still on the island. Just outside,” Arven clarified.

Serana paused for a second. “Most likely. They might be afraid that you’ll burn them again, but I could see father hiding away in his castle while sending everyone out onto the beach to fight us,” she replied.

Arven didn’t respond, just smirking to himself as he took another bite of his food.

“What’re you planning?” Serana continued.

“Nothing much, just thinking about fulfilling a promise I made,” Arven replied.

Serana sat back, folding her arms. “Not going to elaborate for me?”

Arven just shook his head, giving her a cocky smile.

Serana sighed, shaking her head softly at Arven. “I feel like you’ve gotten more stubborn recently,” she said with a smirk.

Arven shrugged. “Maybe my surroundings are just rubbing off on me?” He suggested with a hint of a smirk.

Serana frowned at him, clearly not impressed by the suggestion. “Very funny. I’m hardly stubborn, thank you very much,” she retorted. Arven didn’t reply, he just looked at her with an expression of rather severe judgement. The two locked eyes for a moment, before Serana’s stern façade eventually broke and she let a soft laugh out from her lips.

“Alright then, I suppose we’re heading back home. When did you want to head out?” Serana asked.

“Soon,” Arven replied. “I just need to do something first, before we go.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” Serana asked with a hint of curiosity. As they spoke, the last plates were taken away from the table, leaving Arven almost immobile with the amount of food he had consumed over the past hour. Shockingly, despite the crude display, Serana was just as attracted to him as she always was.

Arven looked down at the attire he was wearing, gesturing to it. “I need to get rid of this. Before we go anywhere, I need another set of armour.” The leather that he had been wearing never quite suited him, even as a vampire. The warrior was actually quite excited to be wearing some heavy protection again. The weight was comforting in a way.

“Armour certainly does suit you more. Another set of steel plate?” Serana asked. Thinking about it, she was rather eager to see Arven in armour as well. It seemed more fitting, and his current attire was somewhat linked with his time spent as a vampire.

“Not quite. I’ve got something slightly more sturdy in mind,” Arven replied. “But, it might take a few hours.”

“That’s alright, there’s something I’ve wanted to check in on before we leave,” Serana replied. That got a curious glance from Arven, but he didn’t push it.

A few hours later and Serana stood in the centre of Whiterun, facing towards the temple of Kynareth. She took a few deep breaths. Not from a need for oxygen, but in an attempt to calm herself. A few people had walked past her while she prepared herself, entering through the doors without a second thought. Something so simple when she looked at it externally.

It’s okay. You’ll be fine. It’s time.

Taking a few steps forward Serana reached out with a single hand, delicate fingers moving towards the handle. She touched the wood with her gloved hand, feeling the texture through the fabric on her fingers. But she couldn’t move any further. A few quick, violent flashes of memories emerged in her head. Sounds that rung in her ears, as if echoes of memories playing off in the distance.

Her brow narrowed, her face almost showing pain as she stood there. She shook her head slightly, fingers wrapping around the handle with more force. She went to pull it open. Yet, she was unable to. Ever since she had turned into a vampire, ever since embracing this side of her, places of traditional worship seemed… off limits, to her. Not for any specific, concrete reason. There was no law, nor spell that stopped her from entering these places.

She was simply a vampire. Someone who had lived the life she had, done the things she had done, had no right entering a place like that. She had hoped that after the night before, after the touch of someone kind and loving washed away the torturous memories of Molag Bal’s treatment, that she’d be able to approach such a place once more.

It seemed as if one night wasn’t enough to wash away her sins and her guilt.

She turned, taking a few steps away from the temple as she exhaled deeply. She felt slightly more calm as she left the immediate vicinity of the building, yet that calm quickly gave way to disappointment. If all she had gone through over the past several months wasn’t enough to purge these thoughts, this guilt, would she ever be able to? Or was it simply time to accept that her past was a part of who she was, something she could never be rid of?

Trying her best to quiet those thoughts for now, Serana walked over to the Gildergreen, finding a bench under the shade. She didn’t know how long Arven would be and decided that this was as good a place as any. Although she couldn’t enter the temple, being near an object of worship for the nearby temple didn’t cause her discomfort, and seemed like a reasonable middle ground. So, bringing out a small book she had taken from Arven’s home, she idly flicked through the pages waiting for him to return.

Before long her waiting finally paid off. As her eyes glanced over her book, every now and then they’d flick up towards the Hall of the Companions, waiting for that familiar face to arrive once more. And now that man was now approaching her in a drastically different outfit than the one he wore before. The leathers he wore when he was a vampire had been discarded, and now he was back in something far more fitting.

From head to toe, Arven was wearing a rather stunning set of plate armour. Every part of his body was covered, with two main exceptions. The first was his fingers, each of them were exposed from the middle knuckle down. The second, and far more obvious exclusion, was his face. Instead of a full helm his mouth, nose and eyes were clear of the helmet, allowing Serana to see the majority of his face. A change she was rather fond of.

Those weren’t the only obvious differences, either. The metal looked different, somehow. Instead of a typical set of steel, it seemed to be reinforced. While visually it seemed to be constructed, put together in the same manner of regular plate armour the joints and largest areas were made of a material she wasn’t familiar with. Compared to some other styles, such as orcish, the metal wasn’t bulky in the slightest. If anything it was incredibly thin, yet on Arven’s frame it seemed imposing.

Additionally it seemed rather coarse, from what she could tell. There were small ridges, rough areas located along the armour in stark contrast to smooth plate such as steel. She stood up, squinting at it trying to figure out what it could be made of.

The material didn’t look like any metal she knew of. It wasn’t the grey of steel or iron, the gold of Elvish armour, nor the dark green of orcish. It was an off-white, similar to the colour of bone.

Ah, of course.

She wasn’t the only person looking to Arven. Some of the companions were standing outside their hall. Some looked impressed, some looked rather envious. Serana’s nose started to twitch as they stood off in the distance.

Not only them, but people in the street found themselves turning to Arven as he walked past. It was hard not to. Everyone knew him as the Dragonborn, as the Thane of Whiterun. Yet, as he approached Serana clad head to toe in the bones of dragons, he now looked like the Dragonborn. In Serana’s opinion, he certainly seemed to fit the part.

Arven stopped in front of Serana, standing there with his arms out to the side slightly. Not only was he wearing a full set of dragonplate, but there was a new shield on his back as well. From what Serana could see, it was made of the same material.

“Well well, look at you. That’s quite the outfit, Arven,” Serana said as she tilted her head to one side, inspecting Arven from head to toe in a rather theatrical fashion.

“Is that a look of approval, then?” Arven asked.

“Oh, you’re asking me for my opinion? That’s rather kind of you,” Serana responded.

“You seem so fond of giving it even if I don’t ask, I figured I’d beat you to the punch.”

That response got a small frown from Serana, resulting in her reaching up with an extended finger to give Arven’s nose a small zap. The man took half a step back, furrowing his nose and brow.

“Really?” He asked, shaking his head.

“I quite like it. It suits you. Really,” Serana said, offering Arven a smile along with her approval.

“I take it this is the armour you told me about back in the Soul Cairn?” She asked, continuing to inspect it from a closer perspective. From a distance it could be confused with simple steel, or perhaps iron. But up close, it was unmistakably something rather unique. Something special.

“It is. Armour forged from the bones of dragons. Durable as anything, maybe even Daedric plate supposedly. And it’s surprisingly light,” he said, looking down as he inspected the armour himself. He twisted his torso on the spot, extending his limbs as if testing it out. Despite the strength of the armour, it was very easy to move in.

Serana raised a hand, lighting sparking between her fingers. “Care to test it out?” She asked with a playful grin.

“I’d rather not, thank you. This took months to forge, I don’t want to ruin it on the first day,” he replied.

“Such a bore. But, it’s not complete just yet,” Serana said. Then, unstrapping something from her waist, she offered Arven a blade wrapped multiple times over in a thick cloth. Arven smirked as he accepted it, holding it in his hands for a moment before unwrapping the cloth.

“Sorry, you probably aren’t looking forward to me using this again are you?” Arven asked.

“It’s your weapon, Arven. You’ll need it. And it looks rather good sitting on your waist, so I don’t mind at all,” Serana replied. “Plus, thinking about Meridia watching you use this after you defied her is rather amusing.”

Arven didn’t resist the smile that came to his lips, holding Dawnbreaker in its sheath. He drew it free, looking at the blade once more. It still shone bright, just as bright as he remembered. He paused, waiting to see if he could hear the voice of Meridia, or if there would be some retribution for what he did to her beacon. Yet none came. The blade felt comfortable in his hands.

He took a few steps back from Serana, not caring for the looks of those passing by. He swung the blade in a few familiar arcs, going through positions with his shield he had taught himself, and those he had been taught. Ones which felt comfortable and natural, breathing in deep and following through each movement in a methodical way, one which had been repeated thousands of times.

“Having fun there?” Serana asked, arms folded across her chest.

Arven sheathed his sword, looking back to her with an honest smile.

“Yes,” he replied, an honest and simple answer. That elicited a smile in turn from Serana, who stepped closer to him now that Dawnbreaker was sheathed.

“Good. This look suits you far more. But, do you know my favourite thing about all of this?” She asked, gesturing to Arven’s new outfit with an extended finger.

The warrior tilted his head slightly. “Do I want to know?”

“I’d wager so. Although, I might wait. There’s a few too many people around at the moment,” she decided.

“That’s not concerning at all,” Arven responded.

“Actually,” Serana started. She grabbed Arven’s arm, leading him for a moment until the pair were standing in an alley between two houses, out of sight of the general public.

Arven looked to her, raising a single brow with a healthy amount of suspicion. In response, Serana simply rose up onto the tips of her toes, grabbing Arven’s helmet gently and planting a soft kiss on his lips. While the helmet was designed so that he could shout freely, she had quickly discovered another, far more important use for the window that left his lips visible.

“Your helmet doesn’t block your face anymore,” Serana explained. “That’s my favourite thing.”

Arven closed his eyes, failing to stop the soft blush from reaching his cheeks as his skin slowly turned red. He opened his mouth to say something in return, but his mind had conveniently gone entirely blank. So instead he just softly shook his head, walking out of the small alley and back into one of the main streets of Whiterun.

Serana almost let out a snort of a laugh before catching up to his side, forever enjoying the effect she had on him. She wanted far more than just a simple kiss; one night, no matter how wonderful it was couldn’t make up for months of longing. Yet she could wait.

“I’m going to go grab my mask again,” Arven muttered beneath his breath.

“Oh come now, you can’t ruin this for me so soon,” she pouted.

“Even if I did, I feel like you’d find another way to toy with me before the day ran out,” he replied. Shaking his head, he followed the main road towards the entrance to the town. They had everything they needed. There was no reason to linger in Whiterun any longer and their next move seemed obvious. There was only one final obstacle in the way, located in a freezing corner of Skyrim, in the depths of a rotten castle.

“It’s strange to think that in a few days, this could all be over,” Serana muttered softly to herself. The realisation just hit her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt. In a few days, she’d be confronting her father. And then after that… what next? The last few months had them working towards a clear goal. But after that goal, what would she do? She paused for a moment, contemplating the thought. While she lived most of her life without specific goals, that felt strange now.

Arven looked to her. “It will be. And then we can finally take that day off you keep bugging me about,” he said.

Serana’s lips curled into a soft smile. “And after that? You’ll go crazy if I don’t give you something to do,” she responded. While she was fine with the idea of idling the days away, she got the distinct feeling Arven wasn’t that kind of person.

“What do you mean? We’ve already decided that,” Arven replied.

“Evading the Jarl as he tries to throw you a feast?” Serana quipped.

“Well, yes… but no, we’re building that lodge. Remember?” Arven said, remembering back to the night in the cave where Serana showed him the extent of her illusion mastery.

Serana had a flood of warmth fill her stomach. She did remember Arven saying so, yet having him confirm it without a second thought was some very welcome reinforcement. For some reason, she felt unsure about her future. Their future. And if she had learnt anything about Arven, he could be… avoidant, at times. So hearing him state such a thing in a matter-of-fact way meant more to her than the Imperial knew.

“Do you even know how do build a house?” Serana asked, giving him a gentle verbal jab to hide her emotions just a bit.

“Well, no…” Arven trailed off. “But, we’ll have plenty of time, so I’ll learn eventually,” he continued while looking to her, offering a smile.

“Unless you’ve got some other plans you aren’t telling me about,” he continued.

Serana shook her head in response, taking a step closer to him. Public displays of affection were something she wasn’t overly comfortable with, but she couldn’t help herself in this moment. She wrapped her arms around one of his, grasping his hand in hers while her other hand came to rest on his bicep.

“Oh, I’ve definitely got some things in mind. But they all involve you, don’t you worry,” she responded. “We’re going to need to find a place to build that lodge, though.”

“I’ve got one in mind, actually. There’s a waterfall up by a hill, on the road from Riverwood to Whiterun. It overlooks the plains of Whiterun, with the city just visible off in the distance,” Arven responded.

“Far away enough for peace and quiet, but close enough to keep an eye on?” Serana asked.

Arven let out a quick snort. “Something like that. But it’s a nice spot. Peaceful, good scenery.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to be fond of scenery, honestly,” Serana replied.

“I… find the sound of running water soothing, actually,” Arven responded.

Serana hummed in response, making a mental note. “I can appreciate that. I used to enjoy the sound of the wind in the garden mother and I looked after. The rustling of leaves is quite relaxing.”

“So, plenty of trees then? Good for shade as well,” Arven remarked.

“I feel like your plans for this are growing rather rapidly. Do you even own any land up there?” Serana asked, the thought only just occurring to her.

Arven shrugged. “Do you think Balgruuf will tell me ‘no’?” He retorted.

Serana paused for a moment, but from what she knew of the Jarl he’d readily agree to just about anything Arven asked for. The two continued their walk, exiting Whiterun and continuing on their way. They passed by the horses and the carriage without a word spoken between them, yet they were both thinking the same thing.

As this may be one of their final long treks together, neither wanted it to be sped up or interrupted in anyway.

Their conversation never had much purpose from that point onward. They discussed whatever crossed their mind on a whim. Any topic from magic to the various holds of Skyrim, to Arven’s travels outside of the north. They both felt comfortable discussing anything that floated through their minds. The two were nearly oblivious to the outside world, as the only thing they cared for was right next to them.

It wasn’t until much later in the day as they approached Rorikstead that their conversation turned back to the task at hand. Seeing the small town off in the distance, Arven let out a small sigh.

“You don’t really like this town, do you?” Serana asked.

“Not particularly. I don’t mind being the Dragonborn anymore, but all the public attention… it’s still a bit overwhelming,” Arven replied.

“We can always camp out by the road,” Serana offered.

Arven turned to her, raising a brow. “I didn’t even think that word would be in your vocabulary,” he replied.

“Why not? What’s wrong with camping?”

“Nothing, but… coming from the lady who lived in a castle her whole life, when’s the last time you slept outside?” Arven asked.

Serana frowned at him, clearly unimpressed. With a flick of her finger, she sent a small jolt of lightning towards Arven as she was rather fond of doing in retaliation. However, it seemed that dragonplate wasn’t as conductive as steel. Instead of zapping Arven, his new armour merely absorbed the small amount of magicka, leaving him entirely unharmed.

So instead of letting out a small yelp, Arven instead turned to Serana with an insufferably smug look on his face.

“Oh, I am not a fan of that,” Serana said to herself.

“Huh, this dragonplate really is good,” Arven said as he looked at one of his gauntlets, smirking to himself. “Guess you can’t zap me anymore.”

“No, there’s ways to fix this. Don’t you worry,” Serana said as she raised a hand while amassing a significant amount of magicka. Arven’s smirk immediately dropped, and he started putting more distance between the two of them.

“Could you come back for a moment, Arven? You see, I’m just not used to all this walking, it’s just so beneath me. I might need to borrow an arm to steady myself,” Serana said as she stepped towards him, magicka swirling around an outstretched hand.

With a quick step forward she reached for Arven, only to find that he wasn’t quite as slow as she remembered. He ducked away from her hand with ease, ending up a few feet away. She frowned. The Sun was out, so she wasn’t at her full strength, yet still.

He wasn’t always this fast, was he?

She tried again, and again, and each time Arven ducked and weaved. Both of their expressions turned, the pair acting like children in the valley leading up to the fort.

“Can you just stand still and let me zap you already?” Serana asked between attempts to grab Arven.

“Say please?” Arven replied.

Instead of asking for permission, Serana got slightly more serious, crouching down ever so slightly before lunging towards Arven. The Imperial’s eyes went wide as she came for him, but he managed to react just in time, taking half a step back and grabbing both of her wrists. He felt the energy from her magicka, with his gauntlet providing a surprising amount of insulation.

Serana had a determined look on her face, putting a surprising amount of energy in trying to zap Arven. Yet, he knew how he could disarm her.

“Tiid.”

Slowing down time, Serana’s eyes were widening in slow motion just as Arven leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. He kept his lips pressed against hers until the flow of time returned to normal, and he felt some of the strength leave her arms as she realised what was happening.

She quickly pulled away. Not out of anger, but embarrassment, the magicka in her hands dissipating immediately as she lost all focus. She turned to Arven, her cheeks just the slightest shade of red. The smirk on his face had only grown wider.

“That’s playing dirty,” she stated.

“What, vampires don’t like playing dirty?” Arven replied.

Serana immediately zapped him again, just out of instinct. But once she realised what she did and how it was still ineffective, her look of embarrassment turned into a heavy pout.

“I’ve changed my mind, I hate this armour of yours,” Serana stated.

Arven just let out a small laugh. “We can stay at the inn, if you don’t mind using your illusion magic,” he said, getting the subject back on track.

Serana gave him a suspicious look for a moment, but let out a sigh. “I suppose I can do that. A bed would be nice, we’ve been walking for hours,” she said.

Arven nodded in agreement, letting out a slight yawn. “And a hot meal would be very welcome right now.”

“Really? You didn’t eat enough earlier?” Serana asked, still shocked at the sheer volume of food he went through.

“Nope. I’ve got to catch up on weeks of food, you think one meal is enough for that?” He replied, a hand resting on his stomach as he spoke.

Serana just rolled her eyes, taking a step closer to nudge him with her shoulder as they continued on towards the town. But then she paused, coming to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Serana?” Arven turned around, prompting her to follow.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to check. Before we get to the town, this might be… loud,” Serana said.

Arven faced her, folding his arms across his chest with a curious glance. “Okay… what’s on your mind?”

“That bow of yours. We haven’t really tested it out. We’re going off legends, stories of how strong it is instead of proof. It might be a good idea to see exactly what it can do before you go firing it off at vampires,” Serana said.

“That’s… a really good point, actually. If it’s as strong as we’ve heard, I don’t want you getting caught up in it. And on the other hand, I don’t want to waste time with it if my sword would do a better job,” Arven replied.

“Exactly. So, care to try it out?” Serana offered, walking off the road they were on towards a slightly open field. Arven followed behind her, taking the wrapped-up bow off his back and beginning to remove the cloth that was keeping the light from blinding Serana.

“Sure, but I don’t see any undead around. None that I particularly want to shoot, anyway,” Arven replied.

“Charmer,” Serana responded with a flat look. She held up a hand, conjuration energies beginning to writhe around her extended, pale fingers. “Don’t worry, I can summon something for you.”

Arven paused, pursing his lips before giving her a slight nod. Serana’s necromancy was something he rarely thought about since she hardly used it around him, except for when they had been backed into a corner.

“Alright, give me a target. We’ll see how strong this is,” the warrior said as he finally held the bow in his hand. He drew a single enchanted arrow, knocking it and testing the strength of the drawstring. Compared to the conjured bow he usually used, it was rather easy to draw.

“The bow of a God. I’ve got high expectations,” Serana said as the light from the weapon caused her to squint. She took a few steps away from Arven before holding out her arm, causing a section of grass a good hundred metres away to begin to glow with an eerie purple, similar to the sky of the Soul Cairn.

The grass around that area began to move as if a strong gust was passing through the area, and the ground rumbled ever so slightly as a torrent of bones began to emerge from the ground. Swirling around in a tempest of conjuration magic, Arven watched over several seconds as a towering giant made from bone appeared in front of him.

The creature was almost as tall as two men, with several skulls throughout the torso and ‘head’. It was clearly undead, a hulking creature made from bone that looked as if it could ram down a gate.

“What the fuck is that?” Arven breathed.

“Bone colossus,” Serana responded. She now had her arms folded, admiring her creation.

“You couldn’t just give me a regular skeleton or something?”

“For that bow? No chance. I had to give you at least a bit of a challenge,” Serana replied. Then, nodding towards the colossus she smirked. The creature had its ‘eyes’ on Arven, and began to approach him. First in a walk, then in a run.

“Better do something, it’s getting close,” Serana remarked.

Cursing under his breath, yet with a smile on his lips Arven drew the bow in his hands. He felt a strange tension in the drawstring. It was light, but he could feel the power resting within the bow and the arrow that was just waiting to be released. The ground was shaking with every step the colossus took, but Arven didn’t flinch as he raised his bow and released the arrow.

He felt an immense surge of energy from his hands as the arrow was let loose. He lost track of the projectile as it seemed to turn into a streak of bright light, burying itself deep within Serana’s creation with enough force to stop the creature in its tracks entirely.

Then, a moment later and the bone colossus exploded. Light erupted from the chest of the monster as if a bomb of restorative magic had gone off inside of it. Yet this magic had a heat that restoration magic didn’t. The light had a level of violence to it. This wasn’t healing magic that harmed the undead, it was pure offensive magic. Light that purified.

Bone was either vaporised or expelled far off in the distance from the kinetic energy behind the blast. Arven stood in place, shocked as he felt a gust of wind and energy threaten to push him back. Off to his side, Serana had a similar expression on her face as she had summoned a ward, protecting herself from the force of the magic.

“Huh,” Arven breathed. After launching the first arrow his hand had instinctively gone to the quiver, yet he very carefully moved his hand away from the arrows, Auriel’s Bow coming to rest down by his side.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but I think that trumped any expectations either of us had,” Serana said.

Arven turned to face her. “You think Harkon could survive that?”

Serana frowned for a moment, slowly shaking her head from side to side.

“If you get a direct hit on him? I’d be shocked if he could. At the very least he’d be crippled,” she responded before turning to look at the bow, raising a hand up to filter out the incredibly bright from her eyes.

“I doubt anyone knew just how strong it is, but I can see what all the fuss was about now at least,” she continued.

Arven knelt down on one knee, pulling out the cloth so he could begin to wrap it up once more.

“Wait. Leave it out,” Serana responded.

Arven looked up, peering at Serana through narrowed eyes. “Why? Isn’t this blinding for you?”

“It is, but I’m getting used to it. Plus if we get ambushed it wouldn’t do you much good to have a wrapped-up bow,” Serana replied. “You’re going to be using that next to me, I need to adjust to it sooner rather than later.”

Arven shrugged, standing up and placing the bow on his back.

“I do need to ask though. I know you’ve been planning how we’ll attack the castle. Anything concrete yet?” Serana asked, taking a few steps closer as she squinted through the light.

“I think so. As long as I can get a majority of them outside, I’m confident we can thin them down before entering the castle. Fighting indoors would be messy, but out in the open we should have a pretty big advantage,” Arven replied.

“Go on then. Tell me this master plan of yours,” Serana said.

The two began walking back towards the main road, side by side as Serana looked up to the night sky. Arven did as he was asked, going through the brief plan he had thought of to handle the assault on the castle. Serana’s eyes widened, looking to him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief, but further explaining from Arven managed to not only calm her surprise, but convince her. Not without quite a significant amount of prodding by Serana as she tried to poke holes in his plan, but eventually the two were on the same page.

By the time the two of them reached the inn, Arven was feeling more tired than usual. He wasn’t sure if it was due to him no longer being a vampire, or if the transformation back into a mortal had taken its toll on him, but he was surprisingly ready for bed. He stifled another yawn, shaking his head slightly.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep, Arven,” Serana said.

“Feels like it. I haven’t had a lot of sleep recently, for some reason,” he said, looking to her with an accusing stare.

Serana just smirked, acting the part of an innocent woman as the two of them stepped inside, Serana removing her hood now that they were out of the weather. Despite his exhaustion, when Arven saw Serana with her hair down, a bit of energy suddenly filled him once more. Energy, and particular thoughts forcing themselves into his mind.

He shook his head, focusing as Serana walked off to book a room for the two of them. It had become almost a ritual for them by this point. Finding an inn, booking a room, retiring to their room to chat into the late hours of the day merely enjoying each other’s company. Arven realised that this ‘ritual’ would likely be ending soon, and had a small twinge of sadness at the thought.

Yet, when he realised they could instead be idling the hours away in a home of their own, any sadness was quickly replaced by a certain excitement.

When Serana returned to him, she had a slightly perturbed look on her face.

“Something wrong?” Arven asked.

She hesitated, looking over Arven’s shoulder. The inn was mostly empty, only a few patrons were sitting at various tables either eating or drinking. Most were clearly workers who made their living in, or nearby the town.

“I can smell blood,” she stated, her eyes locked onto the door.

Arven turned, frowning, just in time to see the door to the inn swing wide open. When he saw who walked in, Arven’s eyes widened as he was unable to hide his surprise. Unknown to him, Serana had a similar look on her face, although hers showed far more concern.

Sorine had walked in looking like absolute hell. As the Breton entered the light properly, her face was a dirty mess stained with mud and small spots of blood. Her clothes were ragged, and the light armour underneath showed clear signs of recent use. She looked like she was in serious need of a healer.

“Sorine? Is that you?” Arven asked. As soon as he spoke he regretted doing so without being more cautious. The last time Sorine had seen him, he had just knocked her to the ground and disarmed her back in Fort Dawnguard.

Sorine looked towards him, her eyes narrowed before realisation struck her face. Her expression went from one of shock to one of pure horror before she scrambled back and reached for her weapon.

Notes:

Hello once more! It's been far, far too long since I've uploaded. I've been in between jobs, moving cities, getting sick, all sorts of things. I wanted to wait to upload this until I had a clear vision to the end of the fic, so I can work towards it without any more breaks between now and the end (hopefully).

There's not too much more to go, so thank you very much for the wait! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I'm also adding a bit more to chapter 9 - re-reading it, it feels like Arven didn't put up enough of a fight so hopefully that'll be a better chapter after I update it. I hope you all have a good week!