It was cold, the air froze the young girl, her hair white as the snow beneath her feet, she watched from afar as her family died. The people were laughing cruelly and commenting about how hilarious it was. As she watched her brother die, the last tear drop fell from her face and she rubbed the cold liquid away. Even as a child, she knew that she would die if she tried to stop the mass murder. The odd beings walked away from the house, their sharp teeth poking out from their mouths and the little girl hid farther into the bushes.

As the last one mentioned her brother's blood, her eyes hardened and she shook with unknown anger. With shaking hands, she grabbed her bow from her back and knocked an arrow. Her father's carvings stared back at her, she felt one more tear drop and aimed thought the bushes. Her hands grew steady as her heart grew colder and colder. One arrow slammed into the first woman's head. The girl didn't flinch as the grabbed the next arrow from the quiver.

She bit her lip and watched as the next three beings looked around for what had happened. She let another one loose, and she watched with no emotion as it struck her next target. The last two began to run where she was and she stood, sending another arrow into the murder's throat. He fell to the floor in pain and she knew that her time was almost up, and with one last arrow, she aimed at the heart of the woman who mentioned her brother.

She allowed her to get close enough and then let loose the arrow, it worked its way into the heart of the woman. As she clutched the shaft, the girl walked up to the dying woman and pushed the shaft harder into the chest. The woman stared at her, as if she was a daedra, sending her to Oblivion. The girl smiled and looked at the woman's odd coloured eyes, matching her unique red ones with her own blue and brown ones.

"My name is Snow, it has been quite a pleasure," she slammed an arrow into the woman's eyes, making hers the only unique ones and the woman screamed. Not another word came from the vampire, and a new vampire hunter was made.

XXX

Chapter 1 A New Hunter

XXX

He was looking at me with those red eyes. That red that reminded me of blood. I felt a headache begin to pound at the back of my skull and I knew that I would have to kill this vampire. I flipped my white hair from my face and lowered my sword down to the beast's throat.

"Please," it whispered, but I could feel no other reason to stop, "I don't want to die…" it said hoarsely. I hated this demon, and those eyes. I shuddered for a moment, too quick for it to see and lunged. Blood splattered against my white hair, an annoyance I have faced with my whole life. I shrugged and exited the cave, breathing in happily at the smell of the fresh air. I rolled my shoulders and sat down, remembering the painful headache. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

Remember who you are. I opened my eyes and looked around, I knew I heard it. My mother, her lasts words were flooding back into my head. I grabbed my hair and pulled, wanting the words to disappear. Her eyes, her smile, everything was coming back. I wanted it shut away, gone forever, but I knew that was too much to ask for. I heard her laughter, and I heard my father chuckling. My little brother snorting. I shook my head and choked on a sob, before kicking myself.

"Stop crying," I told myself, "stop being such a baby," I whispered. My legs felt more solid again and the laughing disappeared, along with their faces. I sighed in relief. The past was supposed to be left there. In silence, I walked along the road, my eyes shut, but my feet knowing where to go. My headache increased on the way to Whiterun and I shut my eyelids tighter. The light made little circles in the dark and I counted them, while the sound of my feet padded on the stone path.

It took me a while to reach the big city, but when I did I was immediately relieved. I had finally made it and now I could get a bed and sleep. Maybe I could find someplace to eat and hopefully repair my armour. It was shredded from the last battle and I felt tired and sore.

The sound of a hammer slamming on an anvil made me wince, but I knew that although my head was begging me to keep walking, I needed a blacksmith. I walked towards the imperial woman and she did a double take. Her eyes trailed to my hair and I rolled my eyes.

"I need my armour repaired," I blatantly told her and she nodded. I took it off carefully, knowing I had a rough tunic under it. She gave it a look and then her gaze trailed off of my armour. I sighed, would she just keep to her work. I needed an inn. "How much?" I asked and she tilted her head to the side.

"Hmm, judging by these gaping wounds," she touched her finger to her lip innocently, "I'd say about two hundred and we would have a deal," she nodded and sat back on her grindstone. I growled. This was utter bullshit. Leaning back on the post casually, I picked at my finger nail. With my armour off, my hair was tickling my tail bone and the sweat was unbearable.

"So, do the cities always have such huge pricing? Because I could easily buy something from another shop owner and repair it myself. Yet, that would take up my time, money and that money would be spent on anyone but you. So how about one hundred, a real price for three slices in the armour." She rubbed her jaw and fingered the stones.

"That is fifty percent on what-,"

"I know you can do that," I told her and tossed the imperial a bag of coins and began to walk away. She stared at me, but I knew that she had to do it now. I approached the market district and immediately went into the general goods to buy a tunic. As I entered, my hair wrapped around my finger, I saw an orc walk away from the counter. He eyed me and I glared at him.

"You there, have you ever thought of taking a fight to the growing vampire menace?" he asked, his voice serious. I chuckled and cocked my head to the side.

"Oh, I haven't noticed any," I replied sarcastically. The man behind the counter eyed me suspiciously.

The orc took this literally and snorted. "Well you better start, before you or someone you know gets ruined by one. If you have the guts," he gave me a once over and seemed to smirk, "and the strength, head over to Fort Dawnguard. We'll see if Isran thinks you got what it takes." I smirked and walked to the counter, where I eyed the merchandise on the wall.

"Everything is for sale friend!" He shouted enthusiastically and I winced. "If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second," he waved around for me to look and I smiled calmly. Internally, I was telling him to shut up. After about two minutes with a Breton staring at my back the entire time, I grabbed a loose and big tunic and placed it on the counter. His eyebrows raised and I rolled my shoulders.

"How much?" I asked and he began to do exactly what the blacksmith had. I growled softly and looked at the tunic. It was ripped and obviously second hand. There were thick stitch marks and patches. The bottom was slightly fraying and I was sure there was a mud stain on it.

"How about thirty septims?" he asked and I snorted.

"How about twenty?" I replied and he glared. His mouth opened and I held up a finger, "I'll pay forty if you add in the Beggar book." I replied and he snorted.

"That book is worth thirty septims," he replied and I glared.

"And that tunic is worth less than five, I highly doubt anyone would buy it but me," I insulted him. He looked hurt, but I was already packing up to leave.

I watched as he squirmed in spot, his eyes shifting back and forth to where I was and the merchandise. He slapped his hand on the table and pointed at me, "You have a deal." I smiled and threw a coin purse with thirty five septims in it and nodded. He held it in his hands and tossed it, before nodding.

I entered an Inn that was called the Bannered Mare and asked the woman for a room. She gave me a huge, fake smile and told me about some amazing room.

"We have a very comfortable room for only ten septims a night!" she replied and I fumbled in my pocket, feeling only twenty septims left. I winced, knowing that I would have to find a job or bounty, so I handed her the ten septims and rubbed my temples. The pain was beginning to come back again, in double.

"Alright, your room is up the stairs," she replied and I nodded, before leaving, hoping to get away from the boasting bard in the corner. As I walked up the stairs, someone whistled behind me. I clenched my fists. I hated men. Most of them were boastful layabouts, who knew more about battle and war then more important things. Like hygiene.

I laid my backpack on the ground and changed into my new tunic. Although it looked rough and gross, it was extremely comfortable, also it had pants, which made me smile. Easier to put my armour over. I left everything in the room, then grabbed my money and left for something to help my head. The sun was beginning to set and I jogged to the alchemist's shop, fighting back the pain in my head. It felt like my brain was tumbling back and forth in my skull.

As I entered, a kind imperial gave me a warm smile. I attempted a smile, but by the look on her face, it was probably a snarl. I wasn't a people person.

"Do you have any potions for my head?" I asked and she bit her lip, and turned around.

"I might, but…" she trailed off and started looking through her shelves. The room was warm and I saw an alchemy table in the corner. It bubbled with some odd concoction left unsupervised. There were ingredients spread randomly. There were baskets full of taproot, canis root, and death bell. I rubbed my finger on the purple flower and stared at the indigo ink left on my hand.

Finally, she emerged with a basket of ingredients and she brushed past me. Her head bent over the table and she began to squish the plants. She turned over to me, looking me over and then nodded, her face showing quick calculations. After ten minutes, she shook her head and continued. I stifled a groan, I just wanted a potion.

I was now clutching my head, feeling the pulse come back and forth and finally she emerged with the mighty concoction. I reached for it, but her eyes eyed my coin purse. I sighed and felt the slightest bit of fear. Please me cheap, please!

"That will be twenty five gold," she told me, her smile wrinkling your eyes.

"Listen lady," I started, "I only have about ten, sooo…." She glared at me and placed the bottle on the counter. Her eyes were stern. I let my head hang. I was out of potions from the White Phial. The old man there made the best potions, for a cheap price. This was double what he paid me. "I really need this potion," I begged and she shook her head.

"I should be making you pay one hundred septims for this, because I used very expensive ingredients, and a lot of them," she told me. I knotted my long hair around my wrists and thought about what I could say to convince her. She glared in annoyance and I sighed.

"I have nothing left I can give you," I replied and she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"How about if you run a little errand for me, then I will give it to you," she replied and I hung my head. I had nearly fallen asleep on her chair. I could barely move, being exhausted.

"I'll come back tomorrow for it," I replied and grabbed the back of my head. It was throbbing so hard I was feeling it on my tongue. I shut my eyes and nodded. "Tomorrow," I muttered and walked towards the Inn, leaving her dumbfounded. I stumbled towards my bed, when an arm grabbed me around the waist.

I turned around and a drunken bard was smiling at me. I glared and tried to wriggle free, but his grasp was hard for a drunk.

"What a pretty one you are," he whispered and I managed to push myself farther away from him. "Come closer to the conqueror," he laughed and a couple men joined him in laughing. My anger sky rocketed and I ripped my hand from his grasp around me and threw a punch at his face. My fist landed on his mouth and his head cracked to the side, spit coming from his mouth. I was able to rip my other arm from him and grabbed his ears and slammed my forehead into his. He then let go of me and I tripped him. His head fell close to the fire and I could hear everyone suck in their breath.

Using all my strength, I pulled him away from the crackling flames and slammed him into a beam. His head rocked on his neck, as if it was barely holding on, and I placed my hand under his throat. He choked and I whispered dangerously into his ear, "If you ever try to lay a finger on me, I will slice you apart, and leave you in the flames." He seemed to have sobered up enough to shut up and I nodded and let go.

As I went to go to my room, I heard a woman crack up and I turned around. She was in steel plate armour and looked rather old. In her forties. Her eyes had wrinkles and she had prominent laugh lines.

"What?" I asked and she smiled.

"Just happy that a woman is standing up for herself these days," she replied and I cocked my head to the side.

"Is that so?" I asked and she nodded. "And I am guessing you are a woman that stands up the pig headed men?"

She laughed again and slammed her tankard on the table and smiled. "Like any men would go for an old woman like me," she laughed again. I cracked a smile and she motioned for me to come over. "Let me tell you some old nord wisdom…"

XXX

Orthjolf drank from the silver goblet, his eyes never leaving the distrustful elf that was fawning over Harkon. "Damn elves…" he muttered and downed the last of the blood. His hand ran through his hair and he straightened his posture as Harkon called him over.

"Orthjolf," he asked, "How goes our search for Malik?" Orthjolf sighed and bit his cheek, knowing that this wasn't going to please his lord.

"None, it is like he literally disappeared from Nirn," he moaned and Harkon slammed his fist on the table.

"Orthjolf, it is impossible for the second strongest vampire has merely 'disappeared from Nirn'. I don't want to hear that there is nothing on him. I need results Orthjolf," he replied. Then he cocked his head to the side, "Don't you want to take revenge after his betrayal" he asked and Orthjolf growled.

"Understood," he muttered and walked off. Hestla was at the forge, her face covered in ash and she smiled as Orthjolf walked in.

"What do you need, Orthjolf?" she asked politely and he sat down by the grindstone. She rubbed her face with a cloth and leaned against the wall. Hestla had been not very welcomed here, so he decided that Harkon have a forge placed here and since then she had been friendly towards the Nord. She had said that if it wasn't for him, she probably would have been cast aside.

"I'm having trouble finding Malik," he replied and she nodded, "He-I can't even find a trace of him. All my men are stretched thin and our lord has grown…impatient. I have to look for his daughter, Malik and his wife…ugh," he held his head in his hands and sighed. The sound of the bellows blowing into the forge and Hestla hitting the hot metal made him look up. Her brows were furrowed and when she realized he was watching, she looked up and nodded.

"I am still listening, sir," she replied calmly. He nodded, but felt drained. "Orthjolf, maybe you should get some rest," she advised and he leaned back. He hadn't been getting much rest in the first place.

"Maybe," he replied and then looked up as Fura walked in. Her hair was tied back and she was laughing silently. "What?" he hissed and the woman snorted.

"Or maybe you just need an intense battle," her high voice sneered at him and he glared. He pulled out his mace and swung it around. Hestla watched him and her eyebrows furrowed again. Fura smiled devilishly and pulled out her battle axe. It glowed with a menacing enchantment. Hestla called out to Orthjolf.

"What?" he asked impatiently and she looked through a barrel. After flipping through different handles, she pulled out what looked like an elven greatsword.

She handed it to him and he took it with slight distaste. "Listen," she started, "when you attack, you are slow, but very strong. Although a mace would probably be the strongest from one handed and the slowest, your fighting style is," she rubbed her chin, "slower than that."

"Are you saying I am slow?" he asked her, his voice dripping with annoyance and anger.

Hestla laughed good heartedly and shook her head, "Maybe in the mind," she teased, "but no. I mean that your attacks are strong and could be fast, but I think this would do. For now," she added to his look at the elven material.

Orthjolf turned the blade in his hand and felt a familiar pain in his temple. He grabbed the sword and spun it around in his hands. "I like it," he smiled and Hestla beamed. He held it in front of him and taunted Fura, "Baking out already?" he asked and she snarled.

They danced to the training room, already attacking each other, with Hestla watching in the back. Her eyes were watching Orthjolf's stance and she was surprised that he knew how to use the sword with such ease. Fura was in her fury, smashing her axe against him, she was known not to hold back and he was parrying with ease. He jumped to the side, and for once a smile was on his face. Hestla was smiling broadly as her friend actually was enjoying himself.

"Stop…BLOCKING!" Fura raged and he shrugged, throwing his blade at hers. He continued to bash hers with his and the sound was loud and beautiful. A gruesome smile was on his face and Fura began to sweat nervously. His blade reached high over his head and he laughed. He brought it down and it cracked into the handle that was barely managing to block it. Fura's blade broke into two and she stared at the handle in shock. Hestla shut her eyes and waited for Fura to strangle Orthjolf, but when she opened them, Fura was laughing silently again. "For once," she laughed, "I have been beaten!" She dropped the weapons on the floor and looked to Hestla.

Hestla instantly knew what she was going to ask and nodded. "New blade, Fura?" she confirmed and Fura sat down, leaning against the railing. She nodded and Orthjolf gave her a smile. He walked over to her and estla noticedHestHestHhhhhhhhhhe handed her back the sword. She took it and placed it back in the barrel and produced a steel one. "Just for now," she told him and he waved her away.

"Any Nord is fine with steel," he replied. She nodded and then grabbed an ebony battle axe and gave it to Fura. He watched it with envy. He muttered, "But it would be great if I could actually have an ebony one," and Hestla sat down by the forge. Her hair was bright red, like his and she had a protruding mouth, like many vampires did. He had no idea what he looked like as a human, but he knew from the couple of people who knew him as a human, that he didn't look much different, except his hair was shorter when he was human.

"Don't worry," she said to him, "I'll have an ebony sword ready for you in no time," and he smiled.

They heard the door squeak open and Hestla looked up, but Orthjolf already knew who it was.

"Orthjolf," Vingalmo called to him and he snarled, causing Hestla to laugh and cover her mouth. "Are you listening?" he hissed and the Nord turned around and smiled hatefully at him.

"Of course I did, elf," he told him in a monotone voice, "What do you need, or rather, what does someone else need?" knowing that Vingalmo would never actually talk to him for anything, but delivering messages.

"Lord Harkon wishes to see you at the current moment, about your little misdemeanor." He sneered and Orthjolf got up and straightened his robes. Orthjolf brushed past him and hit his shoulder, making Vingalmo roll his eyes. "How mature of you," he called behind his back and Orthjolf snorted. Elves couldn't even take a hint of a challenge.

"Lord Harkon," he approached Harkon, who was staring at the fire, as always. Harkon looked up and smiled, revealing razor fangs. His temples began to pound again at the thought of razor teeth. He felt like shaking his head, but instead he bowed. "Did you wish to see me?"

Harkon stared at the fire for another minute, but Orthjolf was used to this and finally the ancient vampire nodded, "Yes." He touched his finger to his lips and then nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "I have learnt of a group of vampire hunters, known as the Dawnguard," Orthjolf nodded, for he had learnt of this, "and I believe they have the means of getting in my-our way. We must stop them," he replied and Orthjolf squinted at his feet in thought. Was it that traitorous Malik that he was talking about? Had he wheedled his way into the vampire hunters too?

XXX

"I need help," Malik announced and Jora raised an eyebrow. "We need help from more people."

"People? You mean mortals?" Jora laughed and Malik sighed. Jora was very hateful towards humans, unlike the rest of his court. She was incredibly stubborn that way.

"A group of people that will only listen to us for one reason," he held up one finger and Graysling raised leaned back on a post, looking casual. Banning leaned in and Jora huffed and rolled her eyes. "If we tell them that we are going to kill Harkon," he continued.

"Why would they listen?" Banning asked and Malik smiled, revealing his sharp fangs.

"Because, he hasn't heard about our clan."

"He?" Jora asked and Malik nodded.

'He, being a man named Isran. He is a wicked vampire hunter," the ancient vampire explained and suddenly Graylsing stood.

"As wicked as Orthjolf?" he asked and everyone grew silent. No one knew what happened to him, or Misa. Malik had sent thousands of search parties, but to no avail. There was two choices, she was dead or captured by Harkon. Every vampire he sent to infiltrate was killed, never returning. He didn't care about what happened to Orthjolf, all he really wanted was to see his seer again. It wasn't for some affectionate reason. She was his best friend and the seer if his court. She helped him with everything, even the stupid things.

"No, no one was like that man. Orthjolf, he was more of a weapon than anything," Malik replied and then looked away. "I know that we can convince him, and once we do that, then we can make an arrangement."

The other vampires looked sceptical, but he knew that they would follow anyway. He sighed and rubbed his temples. This was going to be a hard trick to pull off.