A/N: Hey there, folks. I want to quickly apologize for the time it took me to churn this chapter out, and I'd like to apologize because of how combat heavy this chapter is. The flashback style should end in either the next chapter or the one after that. I tried to keep this one short so the combat doesn't get stale after a while. This is one of those necessarily heavy fighting chapters. Things will settle down a bit in the succeeding chapters.

Also, to those asking, this isn't exactly an alternate universe where this story takes place. Rather, in this story, no, Mikhael never killed Harkon. In this story, there is no existing universe where Mikhael defeats Harkon. You'd do well to remember that, it'll be pivotal towards the end of the story. ;)

Read and review, my dear readers!

My vision cleared and the memories retreated back to the deep recesses of my mind. By the looks of it, little to no time had elapsed while the battle between the Volkihar Army and the legion waged on. The sky was still blood red. The second to the last unit of men was still being beat down. I still sat on the ground with my now mended shoulder and a fresh scar to add to the collection. I still wore a light set of Imperial armor as opposed to my resilient dragon scale armor. The only thing that changed was that my nose no longer dripped with blood. It was a good sign, if anything.

Turning my attention to the approaching vampires, I caught one's sick grin as he reached down to take hold of a one-armed torso of a man that withered in his grip. Almost effortlessly, he flung it across the battlefield, at the last unit of legionaries shaking in their boots. The torso made contact with one man's shield, bringing about a loud cry of surprise. He was becoming hysterical. I couldn't make out what he said among the other curses and grunts among the men in rank. What I did notice was that he dropped his shield, threw his helmet to the ground, and fought to make it to the back of the unit. He was routing. Of all people to rout, it was the unit's commander. One of the last authoritative figures left in the vicinity, considering the legion's residing captain perished in the first wave.

All it took was one man running for his life to get the rest to consider joining him. I had to stand my ground with these men if the Imperials wanted any chance of keeping this tiny outpost... and if I wanted any chance of sneaking across the border. All I needed to do was destroy this unit of vampires and sneak past the next then, well... Cyrodiil here I come.

I stood up slowly but surely. I steadily made my way to the rest of the legionaries, fear absent from my features. No time to be shell shocked now. Their damned vampire scare tactics wouldn't work on me again.

I drew my sword, making sure its sound rang loud and clear across the grassy, blood-soaked field. I kept my steel dagger in its sheath. I instead picked up the large Imperial shield dropped by the runner. Tossing my helmet to the ground, I adorned the commander's slightly decorated steel helmet. My hardy glare caused the man who took his place to back up a few steps to give me room to enter their ranks.

As soon as I got the feel of the unit, I bellowed, "Form shield wall!"

There was a moment of delay when the other men in the unit silently questioned my order; an order from a nobody. I don't know what did it, but they complied. They modified their slightly square formation into that of a rectangle to cover more space and then raised their shields.

"Flanks raise shields!" I called yet again.

They obeyed, much to my delight. Those at the sides and the rear turned outward to better defend against flanking maneuvers by the vampiric army. No doubt the formation would break after a good deal of pushing and stabbing. The advantage would be that when it breaks, we'd still be roughly one wall against another. Less backstabbing.

"Steady." I muttered to those closest to me. No doubt they were rattled and unnerved at the sight of the charging vampiric army. With how they kept the bloodiest of their undead soldiers at the front for maximum impact to morale, I wasn't surprised.

Was this how that day should have turned out?

A mob of vampires meeting our lines of hunters head on, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of land?

Better yet, does a world exist out there, where this is exactly how that day turned out?

The memories were clouding my thoughts, and I struggled to fight them off. I didn't need to think of them now. Spacing out into thought seemed to almost be triggered by stress, which made it all the more worse.

The sight of the bloodthirsty vampires charging at us...

I shook my head vigorously, trying to remove the thoughts from my head. The flashes of unfamiliar images of battles that never happened were threatening to fill my vision. I didn't need to slip away now of all times. In an attempt to lock myself in the present, I glared daggers at the sprinting vampires as they neared. I allowed the fictional combat in my mind to transform into a battle plan for the present and how I was going to slaughter the vampires before me. In moments, I had the flow of fighting mapped out in my head and effectively grounded myself in reality.

I turned my head back to look at the men in rank and spoke clearly and loudly. "We fight for a Skyrim free from vampiric rule." Before turning back to the approaching attack force, I shouted, "GIVE NO QUARTER!"

In a follow up effort to raise morale as the first vampire braced for contact with our shields, I let out a battle cry, long and loud. Row by row, the legionaries joined me, unifying our voices into one, powerful roar in defiance to the vampiric rule over Skyrim.

Bright purple flashes entered my vision, indicating several vampires moving around to flank us. That didn't matter. We were prepared for that.

Grunts from my sides, paired with loud thuds, meant that the first few made contact, and so began the shoving and stabbing. I locked my eyes onto that of a vampire that was charging for my shield; his eyes screamed murder. His clawed hand raised a sword up high to try and cleave its way around my shield. I wouldn't give him the chance.

As soon as he was in range, I stepped forward slightly without breaking rank. I swung my shield, the hard metal connecting with the vampire's face and causing his step to falter. I followed up quickly by shoving my sword into his abdomen, blood dripping onto my hand in the process. I quickly withdrew my blade as the vampire swung his own. I blocked the attack with my shield and proceeded to kick my attacker square in the chest. He had good footwork, and so was only pushed back a step or two. Just as I wanted.

When he tried to close in to resume the melee, I met him with a quick swing of my sword which sent his head sailing. I was back in formation by the time his body hit the floor to join his severed head. My companions were holding their ground rather well, as the formation was still unbroken, and I could see a few fallen vampires around us.

The next vampire rammed into my shield at full force causing me to grunt as I absorbed the impact. I kept my sword low as I pressed my head against my shield. My boots dug into the soil, my hoe like heels causing the earth to pile up behind me as the vampire pushed. I could feel my comrade's shield press into my back; he was pushing forward, unintentionally sandwiching me when he was trying to help me stand my ground. The offending vampire cursed as he violently swung his axe over my shield in feeble attempts to hit me. I would have none of it as I waited for the undead bastard's shoving to hinder in the slightest.

Feeling a decrease in the force exerted on my shield, I took my chance. I steadied my stance and made sure I was planted firmly on the ground, preventing him from pushing me any further back. With a powerful roar, I swung my shield wide, effectively pushing the vampire back. My sword quickly found his abdomen, and it just as quickly withdrew. He swung his axe fast and hard, and I met it with my shield.

The Imperial shield of steel and wood cracked against the vampire's inhuman strength, sending splinters all around; it wasn't useless just yet though. I attacked with my sword again with a hook-like stab. My blade found its mark and sunk into my foe's neck, severing arteries and shattering bone. His head bent awkwardly to press against the blade, his left eye twitched ever so slightly before he finally fell to his knees.

The skirmish was turning ever so slightly in our favor. I could tell by how the formation loosened to allow the men to spread out to form a multiple rowed wall to push against the vampires. It was our turn to take the offensive. I kept up with the trend the legionaries were setting. Kicking the kneeling vampire onto his back, I steadily moved forward, my steps even and my guard ready.

Two of Harkon's undead minions began charging me, probably seeing my helmet as an indicator of rank. The first turned invisible with a flash of purple, while the second engaged me immediately. The vampire raised his arm high, aiming to cleave me shoulder to hip with his sword. I ducked low and to his side, gritting my teeth when his blade made contact with my the steel jutting out of my helmet. The contact was jarring and abrupt; I imagined his attack cut a portion of the helmet right off. Not allowing the attack to put me off, I plunged my sword into his gut hilt deep.

With a loud grunt, I yanked downwards, effectively ripping his stomach open and freeing my blade. He stumbled forward as blood poured from his midsection, his eyes turning to the shadow I just barely noticed behind me.

I turned just in time to raise my shield to block the first vampire's attack as he reappeared. Mace met shield, and mace won. The shield elicited an ear-splitting crack as half of it fell away entirely, leaving me with half a shield. The vampire quickly followed up with a claw aimed at my face. My blade came up out of reflex and I sliced the vampire's hand off before I knew it. In a fit of rage and pain, the vampire stomped in my direction and proceeded to kick me square in the chest, sending me several good feet back. I felt what was left of my shield leave my grip when I made contact with the ground, my head violently smacking against it.

My vision swirled as I struggled to keep my eyes locked on my attacker as he closed in on me, eyes screaming murder.

My head pounded, my hands trembled, and I could feel blood slowly but steadily slipping into my mouth. My hand automatically went up to my nose, which was the source of blood. Divines be damned. This was a bad time to black out.

I fought against the darkness that crept into view, all the while the vampire above me moved in for the kill. It was all in vain.


I groggily rolled on my side, my eyes shut tight. My memory was hazy and my head was throbbing... and so was my nose. A hand went up to find dried blood that leaked down my nostrils not long ago. My fingers ran along the bone, and I grimaced in the realization that it was broken. Not just this, but I could taste dried, bitter blood on my lips. My blood. I had been sputtering it out. This wasn't a good sign. I slowly opened my eyes and immediately grunted in pain.

Dim light began to enter my vision.

Followed by distorted shapes.

And finally sharp images.

What was puzzling was the haze of sepia through which I saw things.

Hardly a minute had passed and the battle carried on. The Dawnguard was still in a tight square formation, effectively blocking any arrows from penetrating their defense. I barely caught any stray fire. Any arrows that did hit me just painlessly lodged themselves into my dragon scale armor. Only arrows of high quality could cut through my armor. These steel arrows would just draw a little blood and stain my underclothes at the very worst.

My eyes widened when I recalled the events that led to my brief unconsciousness. I rolled to my other side to look at the Volkihar and the son of a bitch that didn't hit me hard enough to kill me.

My blood ran cold.

In Harkon's bloody claws was the Bow of Auriel. Except now, it was almost unrecognizable. It emitted an eerie, sinister glow and was coated in dark red. At his feet was Valerica, blood still slowly oozing from her limp form.

He had Valerica's... other-worldly-Valerica's blood. He had the bow. The ritual was complete.

I wasn't having vision problems. The sun was blotted out and it painted the world in an unnatural, bloody haze.

We lost.

Harkon's sick cackling sent a shiver down my spine as I watched him sling the bow across his person. He appeared to stop for a moment before grabbing hold of Valerica's corpse by the foot and slowly dragging it back to his line of vampires. The vampire lord caught my gaze, resulting in a disgusted sneer reaching his features. "Destroy these fools."

That was all it took. I sharply sat up, causing my head to spin yet again. I fought against the nausea that was quickly developing. Raising my armored gauntlets to protect my face, I slowly stood up and backed up into the Dawnguard's shield wall. I ignored the arrows that grazed my gauntlets and helmet and embedded themselves into my armor. They were irrelevant to my current train of thought. My head snapped from side to side, searching for she who I valued above all else. My blood went colder still as images flashed into my shaky vision; images of Serana fading into Oblivion as I tried and failed to hold onto her.

The Dawnguard lost this war. I lost Serana. What more was there to lose?

I felt a hand yank me back and into the formation for the nth time that day. As the shields closed around me, the arrows in my armor snapped and shattered as they were pressed against the hunters' backs. A Redguard's familiar voice reached my ear.

"We're falling back to the fort to regroup. We will win this. Not today, but mark my words, we will."

"We will. If it's the last thing I do." I growled back at him, a sudden fire brewing within me as our- as my defeats on all fronts became more and more evident. I couldn't afford to be grief-stricken now. Now, I had to be strong. It's what she would have told me to do.

I was going to fix this. For all of Nirn and for Serana. I didn't plan on letting anything stop me.

After several more long seconds, the sound of arrow on shield halted. Deathly silence filled the air for only so long before the vampires let out bloodcurdling battle cries. They were charging at us before we knew it. In what little time we had before they hit our formation head on, the hunters began snapping the arrows free from their shields; others unslung their crossbows and raised them up to eye level.

As if on cue, a battle horn's bellowing resounded throughout the area. The very same that echoed across the walls of Windhelm as the civil war drew to a close. The Imperials arrived with the rest of the Dawnguard's reinforcements. I could see the ship slowly coming up on the right side of the bridge, its massive sails fluttering in the wind, archers and crossbowmen lining the railing. Gunmar's trolls were undoubtedly behind the firing line, waiting to be released.

They were right on time. An effeminate voice gave the order to fire and a hail of bolts and arrows alike came flying at the vampires, putting several down for the count.

Figuring it best to call on Durnehviir for help as we began the retreat, I inhaled deeply. "DURNEHVIIR!"

The roar of a reply was instantaneous and his arrival was imminent. Like a great bird of prey, I could see his silhouette high in the clouds above, creating a black splotch to contrast the blood red sky. It was mere moments before Durnehviir swooped down, wings spread wide, mouth agape. He ripped several vampires from where they stood, casting them into the air as he passed. The undead dragon circled around to blast a cold stream of frost at the advancing vampires. The charge broken, the hunters on foot began engaging the vampires. We had to hide behind our shields as Durnehviir froze a handful of the vampires solid. The cold could be felt from where we stood.

It was just then the battle trolls made their appearance, barreling across the thin gangplank that connected the ship to the bridge, smacking the vampires about like they were mere ragdolls. Multiple loud bangs indicated several gargoyles freeing themselves from their immobile stony shells to enter the fray. They were hardly a match for the massive armored trolls going on a rampage.

Isran shoved a dagger into my hand before moving to swing his great warhammer in a wide arc that obliterated a gargoyle's snarling face. I was unarmed without this small steel dagger. My weapons were no doubt being kicked around somewhere on the farther side of the bridge. A dagger was better than nothing I suppose. I dealt a quick leg kick to an approaching vampire, causing him to buckle, enough for me to seize his other leg. Ramming my shoulder into his midsection, I took him down and shoved my dagger into his chest repeatedly until he stopped squirming.

The merits of having little weaponry as opposed to none.

My allied dragon flew in close once again. This time he was going for the vampiric archers that were knocking their arrows into place. My eyes widened as a dark figure leapt from the balcony housing the archers. Durnehviir barely had time to swing his head around. The dark figure landed on his neck, his long blade hacking away at the dragon's scaly flesh. I just barely made out the distinctive armor and the long hair neatly tied back. It was Harkon. He no doubt realized that he risked the battle's outcome now. The scales were just beginning to tip in our favor.

Durnehviir shook his neck back and forth vigorously, blood dripping onto the ground beneath him at an alarming rate. It wasn't long before he threw Harkon off. The bastard hit the castle wall hard, creating a sizeable indentation as he did. He was repositioning himself now, gripping the rocky wall with his clawed hands, snarling at the dragon before him. His legs coiled, he jumped back at Durnehviir with great speed; except this time, he had something else in mind.

Casting his blade away, he let out a roar loud enough to rival any dragon. By the time he landed on the end of Durnehviir's snout, he had transformed into a vampire lord. His long claws allowed a much better grip on Durnehviir, and he was not easily removed.

Harkon plunged his dagger like nails into Durnehviir's eyes, as both of them glowed an eerie red. He was sucking what little life Durnehviir had right out of him. His great wings withered, their flaps faltering, his scales decayed, the soft flesh exposing itself. When his ribs began to expose themselves and the flesh on his skull began to peel away, it was obvious he wasn't going to stay for much longer. The familiar large purple haze began to envelop Durnehviir and he was gone before I could blink.

Harkon came crashing down to the bridge, landing in a crouch and creating another small crater. Standing up to his full height, he easily grabbed a hold of two charging battle trolls, his claws digging into their armor. He shoved them hard against the ground and opened his maw, sucking the life out of them both before moving on to attack the rest of the Dawnguard.

It was evident that this was getting very bad very fast yet again. If we were going to pull out we had to do it immediately. Going for the ship as a means of escape was slowly becoming less and less of an option. The Volkihar were pushing us too far back and the ship would take too long to maneuver anyway.

To make matters worse, the archers, now unhindered, fired a barrage of flaming arrows at the ship. Several oil lanterns were cast off the balcony and onto the ship, hastening up the fire's spread. The archers and crossbowmen alike had to disembark, lest they be burned alive.

The cries of "Abandon ship!" could be heard as they began their evacuation. Some fell off the gangplank as they pushed and shoved to get to solid ground. Some got stuck on board as the flames licked their boots and the gangplank fell with the rest of the unfortunate men. Some made it across and straight into the Volkihar's waiting claws and fangs.

We were in full retreat to the boats now. The men at the front were in full sprint; their sprints turned into panicked wading as they rushed to their boats. I remained closer to the rear so I was able to help the rest of the hunters in what little way I could. With each step we took, it was as if we lost another hunter to the vampires.

Before long, I was on a boat with Isran and Agmaer. The lad, bleeding profusely from one eye, was weighing anchor for all he was worth, his bloody hands occasionally causing the chain to slip. Only a measly one third of the boats were manned, two of them housing one troll each, one being a particularly rambunctious frost troll. How the trolls' unruly movements didn't cause them to capsize before we even set off, I had no idea.

We took what little dead we could with us. It wasn't right leaving their bodies with the Volkihar. Divines damn us all for being unable to take all of the fallen hunters with us.

As we began to paddle, I realized the arrows stopped. Looking back, I saw Harkon, back in human form, with the rest of the vampires. He was letting us leave. Instead of letting his archers pick us off, he was letting us leave. The arrogance. I shouldn't be surprised.

They cheered and howled like animals, jeering at their retreating foes, basking in the feeling of victory. Only one stood quiet and composed. Only Harkon. His sinister smile refused to leave my mind as I turned away and brought my attention back to the paddling.

Isran was silent as he rowed, even when I stopped for a moment to raise his bloody dagger up to eye level. He simply shook his head and pointed at the sheathe on my person. I just as wordlessly complied and went back to rowing. It was going to be a long way back to Fort Dawnguard.