Author's Note

Hello! I'm intending this story to be a loose exploration of the Skyrim Dawnguard DLC, though with frequent tangents and new events. There will occasionally be real dialogue from the game to serve as anchors and jumping off points to the canon storyline.

The story features the adventures of Serana and Trix, a non-dragonborn OC. Expect a lot of silliness, occasional seriousness, and plentiful fluffiness.

I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE: AN ELF, A VAMPIRE, AND A DRAUGR WALK INTO A CRYPT...

There was nothing.

No light.

No sound.

Nothing to sense.

Nothing to experience.

She dreamt nothing.

She thought nothing.

She was nothing.

Time itself could not phase her.

And yet, outside, inches away, the world moved.

Out there, people lived.

Time passed.

People died.

Out of nothing, there was light.

It pierced and stung like bolts of lightning, shocking her awake. Suddenly, her senses were flooded: there was cold stone all around her, and the sound of mechanical crunching and shifting. She could smell earth and dust, and something else, something metallic, something she needed, something... delicious.

Blood.

She remembered herself: Serana, a Nord, a vampire. Her family. Her mission. The Elder Scroll. Dimhollow Crypt. The seal.

She became aware that she was standing, and the whole weight of her body was on her knees. They buckled, and she felt herself tipping forward. But she was numb and couldn't move, couldn't stop herself—she was falling, and the ground was rushing toward her. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, moving out reflexively to meet the ground. Pain erupted in her palms, but it brought welcome clarity—her senses began to co-operate, and her muscles were finally obedient.

"Unh..." she groaned, and forced herself upright. She raised her head and tried to settle her blurry vision. Colours and lines moved about like snakes, then smashed together to form shapes, and finally—right in front of her, a face, concerned and suspicious.

But it was not the one she was expecting.

She squinted. It was a woman, but not her mother. Not Hestla, or Fura—or any other member of the Court.

"Where is..." Serana began, but caught herself as she examined the stranger's features. Pointed ears, a strong chin, and tall—taller than her. This woman must be an Altmer, Serana thought—and yet her features were so dark. Black hair, rusted orange eyes, and skin that was more brass than gold, and covered in dirt. Her clothes were dark too, a mix of cloth and steel and buckles. And all around her was the glinting of weapons. A crossbow in one hand, a sword at her hip, a shield on her back—and bright, steel bolts.

Serana's eyes flicked back to the Altmer's face. Who was this? A servant of her father?

She cleared her throat and asked, "Who sent you here?"

The Altmer frowned—surprised, confused.

"Who... sent me?" she repeated. "Not 'what am I doing here?' or 'who are you'?"

Serana bit her lip, nervous about giving too much away. Unable to say more, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, who were you expecting?" the Altmer asked.

Serana blinked. This couldn't be a member of her father's court—they would never be so impertinent—but then who was this? And why was she here? Was she a bandit? A treasure hunter? She certainly wasn't a vampire—she had none of the telltale features, and her scent was...

Her scent was...

Serena breathed in, and the smell of delicious blood invaded her. Her eyes darted about hungrily, and then she saw it—the Altmer's hand, tucked against her stomach protectively. It was covered in fresh, flowing, fabulous blood.

Ah, the spike, Serana remembered. The button mechanism on the platform was set to release a spike when pressed, impaling whoever pressed it, and the blood would break the seal on her. Painful, sure, but the process wouldn't have been more than a mild inconvenience for a vampire.

"I was expecting someone..." Serana trailed off, unable to tear her eyes away from the blood. "Like me, at least."

The Altmer went rigid. "Like you..."

Before Serana could blink, there was a crossbow staring her in the face. She watched the Altmer reach for a bolt—not a steel bolt, she realised now, it was silver—and bring it up for loading.

"Wait—" Serana managed, bringing up her hands in a sign of peace. "I'm not—"

But a cry of pain interrupted her, and Serana watched the bolt fall to the floor, covered in a splash of blood.

"Shit," the Altmer whispered, giving up on the crossbow and dropping it to the ground—it landed with a harsh clang—and going to unsheathe the sword at her hip. It was an awkward process, since the sheathe was on the same side as her good arm, but she was quick with adrenaline.

"Hey, whoa there," Serana tried again, remaining still. "I'm not interested in a fight! And you don't exactly look like you're up for one."

"I'm up for one just fine," the Altmer snapped, pointing the sword toward her.

"Riiight," Serana crooned, a sharp quip resting on her tongue—but she stopped herself. There were piles of ash and robes around the platform—no doubt belonging to some unfortunate vampires—and she knew the crypt was full of undead creatures. To have come this far meant that this mer could not be a complete weakling.

Serana's eyes drifted up, and she held the mer's gaze: it was defiant and strong. She had seen this type before. An adventuring do-gooder bound by some arbitrary code of honour—you need only a clever tongue to disarm these sorts. The Elder Scroll was too important to risk with a violent battle—and Serana was nothing if not persuasive.

"Well," Serana began, shifting her weight to one side, "I have no quarrel with you. So if you could put your weapon down and let me pass—I have places to be."

The Altmer's frown deepened. "I can't just... let you go. You'll go on a... a blood-sucking murderous rampage. Won't you?"

Serana attempted to stifle a laugh, but it broke free, and she chortled openly. "Gods, what? Why would I do that?"

"You're a vampire?"

"Yes, but I'm not a barbarian," Serana retorted, crossing her arms. "Look, why are you even down here?"

"I... I'm with the Dawnguard. There were reports of your kind converging here, so I was sent to investigate."

"The Dawnguard?" Serana repeated with a frown. "That's not a name I know. I'm guessing they're not fond of vampires?"

"Is anybody?"

Serana shrugged. "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."

The Altmer looked her up and down. Then she paused. Then she sighed. Finally, she lowered her weapon.

"Well, I could do with some answers."

Serana smiled. That was too easy. "You and me both. I'm Serana, by the way."

The Altmer nodded. "I'm Trix, nice to meet you. Well, not nice, but..."

Serana laughed again. "You know, for a vampire slayer, you're not very intimidating."

Trix pursed her lips. "For a vampire, you don't exactly have me shaking in my boots."

Serana grinned. "Do vampires usually have you shaking in your boots?"

"That's not what I—"

"You musn't be very good at your job if every time you see a vampire it has you shaking in your boots."

"—Anyway. Are you going to tell me what you were doing down here, and what that thing strapped to your back is?"

The grin fell from her face. Serana looked over her shoulder at the enormous scroll. It was gold, ancient, and weathered at the handles—but the scroll itself was perfectly immaculate.

"This is an Elder Scroll," she said evenly, turning back to face Trix, whose eyes filled with surprise and wonder.

"Look," Serana continued, "I can't tell you why I have this. At least, not now—not here. But if you help me get out of this place and take me home, I can tell you the whole story."

"Your home? Where do you live?"

"On an island west of Solitude. It's... my family home."

Trix tilted her head to one side. "That's a long way from here. Probably a week's journey, at least."

Serana shrugged. "You don't have to come. I'm happy to get out of your hair and head back home myself."

Trix snorted. "Yeah, right. Like I'm going to let a vampire loose in Skyrim with an Elder Scroll."

"Then..."

Trix sighed. "I suppose... I don't have a better option. Alright, I'll take you home—if you promise you'll explain what's going on."

Serana placed a hand over her heart. "From the bottom of my cold, dead heart, I promise."

Trix looked unimpressed. "How reassuring."

"Look, as much as I enjoy listening to your intermittent swearing and cries of pain—and it would probably be really easy to find you if we were ever separated, since I could just follow the trail of blood you're dripping behind you—do you think you could do something about that hole in your hand? It's... distracting."

They had been walking for several minutes now, and with every step, Trix seemed to be getting slower.

The mer looked back at her, face tight with pain and layered in sweat. She had dressed her wound in cloth, but the blood had already soaked through. She wasn't exactly traveling light, with a giant pack strapped to her back and an arsenal of weapons sticking out at all angles.

"I..." Trix began, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her breathing was laboured. "I've already used all the potions I brought with me. I was hoping I'd find something along the way... in a chest, or urn, or something..."

"Why don't you just use a healing spell?"

Trix's gaze fell to her feet. "I... don't know any healing spells."

"What?" Serana was genuinely shocked. "But you're an Altmer. Don't you lot pride yourselves on being masters of all magic, or something?"

"Yeah, well..." Trix replied, slowly and quietly. "I'm no master of magic."

Suddenly, Trix looked up, desperate. "Do you know any healing spells?"

"Uh..." Serana looked down at her hands, wracking her brain. "I mean, I suppose I know the absolute basics, but..."

Trix looked relieved. "Then could you—can you please... heal me?"

"I... can try?" Serana replied. "I guess... come over here, by this torch."

Serana waited as the mer stepped into the light. As Trix drew close, Serana couldn't help but stare. It had been so long since she had been close to someone alive... and not about to eat them.

"Your lips," Serana said.

Trix's hand shot up reflexively, coming to rest at her mouth. "What?"

"They're blue."

"Oh." Trix let her hand drop back to her waist, leaving a smudge of blood down the corner of her mouth and chin. "I guess that's... not good."

"I think you've lost a lot of fluid," Serana replied, running her tongue along her canines.

Don't eat the guide, don't eat the guide, don't eat the guide...

"Let's just..." Serana said, forcing herself to concentrate. "Let's get this over with, before you pass out or something. Show me your hand."

Trix extended her arm and began undoing the cloth bandage. When the last layer came off, she flinched as the gory sight was uncovered. A jagged ring of flesh at the base of Trix's palm was torn and raised, and like lava from a volcano, pools of red and black oozed from the wound.

"Gods," Serana whispered, looking away to swallow the pool of saliva in her mouth.

Don't eat the guide, don't eat the guide, don't eat the guide...

"Sorry..." Trix mumbled. "Is it too much? I can keep looking—"

"It's fine."

Serana gathered her resolve, and forced her gaze back to Trix's injured hand.

"Just so you know," Serana began, moving her hands towards the injury, "I haven't done this for a very long time. So if something goes wrong..."

"It's okay."

Serana held Trix's fingertips to keep the limb steady, while her other hand erupted with a bright, brilliant light.

"Here it goes..." Serana said, holding the spell near the wound.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the flow of blood began to stop. The black rivulets dissolved and receded. The angry flesh faded to pink, and began to mend.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe it's working. The last time I cast this spell was before I became a vampire, so there was a real chance that—"

She looked up, and to her surprise, noticed that Trix had been examining her. When their eyes met, both of them froze.

"Sorry," said Trix, looking away. "You just... don't look like other vampires I've seen."

Serana raised her brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, usually you're more... bumpy. And... hollow, and..."

"Ugly?"

"Well..."

"So you're saying I'm pretty?"

Trix looked back at her with a smirk. "Gods, just how big is your ego?"

"So big that even a magical seal couldn't contain it, apparently," Serana replied, but her smile was thin.

Trix's smirk dissolved into a concerned look.

Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't ask...

"Serana..."

Something about the way Trix said her name had her stomach clenching.

"Are you alright?"

Serana looked up. With Trix's face so close, Serana could see more detail in her face. Her cheeks were red with exertion, and smooth aside from several fresh cuts and a small, jagged scar at the base of her cheek. Her lips were full, but coloured an unhealthy blue—the smear of blood was still there from when she had touched her mouth.

Her black hair was tied back in a half-ponytail, and the free hair flowed down to just below her shoulders. Stray locks were plastered against her face and curled slightly with sweat. She looked young, but Serana knew that Altmer lived for an exceptionally long time, so it was possible she was far older than she looked.

In the torchlight, the Altmeri gold in her dark skin seemed more pronounced. Her orange, rusty eyes shined with sympathy and warmth.

She looked like a hero—grimy, unbreakable, and shining. Serana felt like she was staring at the sun.

It was unbearable.

"I'll be..." Serana stammered, nearly choking on the word. "I'll be fine... thanks for asking."

Trix nodded—the movement vibrated through the fingertips Serana was still holding.

"Well, thanks for healing me."

Serana looked down. Save for the congealed black-red sludge that had dried on Trix's skin, the wound looked entirely healed.

"Oh," she mumbled, letting go immediately. "Yeah. You're welcome."

Trix smiled and shrugged her pack off her shoulders, then turned to reach into it. After some rummaging, she pulled out a waterskin.

"Do you...?" Trix began, offering her the pack.

"Not unless it's red."

"Ah," Trix replied, almost apologetically. She took several generous swigs, then poured some over her hand to wash off the blood. Serana watched jealously; her own throat was burning with thirst—and hunger.

"Alright, let's get back on track," Trix said, shoving the waterskin back in her pack, before hoisting the whole thing over her shoulders. "We've got a long road ahead of us to get you back home."

"Uh huh. Just don't go sticking your hand on another spike. It really slowed us down."

Trix looked at her and sighed.

"I'm serious. Crypts like these are filled with booby traps."

Trix reached for her crossbow and began fiddling with it.

"Hey," Serana continued, "wouldn't it be terrible if you landed on a pressure plate, and then a vampire attacked us? You'd be too busy shaking in your boots to move, and then bam! Impaled on another spike. Uh... Trix, what are you doing? I was just jo—"

Serana froze as the bolt whistled over her head. She spun around just in time to see it land between a set of glowing eyes.

"Nice shot," Serana admitted, and when several more pairs of eyes appeared, she continued, "but I hope it wasn't a fluke."

She looked over her shoulder at Trix, who was readying another bolt.

"Just try not to get in the way," the Altmer replied with a smirk.

Serana turned back to the group of approaching draugr, who were gaining speed and emitting low, guttural groans.

"Please," Serana replied, summoning a red ball of energy in each hand. "I'll kill them all before you can pull another trigger."