New chapter, long chapter, no fighting. Trying to bring the story back on track - though through a different route to the actual questline. Hope you like it, leave a review!

I do not own the Elder Scrolls nor anything affiliated with it, only my own ideas.

Darkness, again. Despair knew several kinds of darkness' so well they were almost like friends, or enemies. The darkness of shadows, hiding all sorts of monsters and providing cover for the unlawful. The darkness of monsters themselves, such as Harkon and his ilk. The darkness of the low emotions within sentiency; the fear within mortals or the cruelty within dragons. There was the darkness of sleep, then of death – so similar that the only difference is that one ends. The empty void of truth was one such that Despair knew very well; only eclipsed by the one darkness he knew best of all – his own.

Nevertheless, Despair currently found himself within an abyssal darkness of infinite proportions and accompanied by a physical darkness; one more reputed than his own.

'Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin.' The heavy voice of Alduin said to Despair, sitting on a small tower of rocks within the imagined terra of the inner world.

Despair rubbed his head as he pulled himself up to a sitting position; his body in snow. 'Alduin. Here again?'

'It would appear so, Sos Dov. Krosis, I do not know why you have returned this time.' The old dragon said.

Despair himself had difficultly calling the past within his mind, then he suddenly remembered. 'Ancanor! The Thalmor!' He exclaimed. He looked up at Alduin – who had a look of puzzlement on his face. 'Weren't you watching the battle from within?'

'No, I was…barred from witnessing the conflict. Your mind was Kest Nah – berserk. I could not see.' The dragon replied.

'I see.' Despair rose to his feet. 'The Elf – the captain from Northwatch Keep – tried to invade my home and kill everyone.'

'So you slaughtered him?' Alduin finished. 'Impressive. Most befitting of a Dov Ah, Dovahkiin.' Alduin used the dual meaning of Despair's birthright – to be born as a dragon and to be born to hunt dragons.

'There was little else I could do.' Despair sighed. 'It isn't like I regret it, I feel that I may have overdone it.'

Alduin perked his head up slightly, indicating that he didn't know what his host was referring to. Despair sighed and called on the memory within his mind, preparing his voice. He began to channel a small part of his soul and brought it out – the same way the Greybeard's had taught Despair how to use the Thu'um to begin with. Suddenly he shouted a word at Alduin – the dragon word for "know".

'Mindok!'

The pulse of air hit Alduin and the larger creature blinked in surprise, but when he opened his eyes there was a sense of knowing. Despair then channeled the small part of his dragonic soul that would allow Alduin to understand what had transpired during the duel and offered it to the World-Eater, letting it flow between them. After a few moments passed Alduin began to laugh.

'Ho ho ho ho, how destructive. I admire you, Dovahkiin. Only a Dov after my own Sil – Soul, would be capable of such…Lah Aal.' The dragon shifted his wings, clinging to the rock beneath him. 'But what shall you do now, Dovahkiin? You are no nearer to your answers than before you killed the Elf.'

Despair's eyes shifted and regarded his parasite-prisoner with suspicion. Alduin felt the curling lip from behind Morokei's mask as he looked back at Despair. 'Alduin. What did you call yourself when we first battled, on the Throat of the World – in Mundus?'

The dragon blinked. 'Zu'u Alduin; Firstborn of Akatosh.' He said the words with immense pride, swelling in size as he did so.

'Akatosh is chief of the Nine Divines – but that's only in the culture of men, in the Elvish Pantheon; he is Auri-El, correct?'

'Dovahkiin, if you are asking about the Revak Drog Mer…I'm afraid I cannot-'

'World-Eater.' Despair said sternly. 'What do you know of Auriel's Bow?'

Alduin almost slipped off of his perch as Despair posed the question. It took him so suddenly that he had to dig his claws deeper into the rock to prevent falling. The great black dragon stared in surprise for several minutes at The Dragonborn before finally answering. 'Auriel's Bow… Zun Jun Krein – weapon of the sun. Akatosh represents Tiid – time, but Auri-El is Jun – light.'

'Tell me what you know, Dov.' Despair pushed.

'It was the weapon of Auri-El himself, used in the battle to create Nirn from Lorkhan's corpse. I know not where it is hidden – if that is your desire.' He bowed his head in apology.

'And what is it used for?' Despair asked.

'Used for? Joor Nis Kod Zun Jun Krein – mortals cannot wield it.' Alduin suddenly remembered who he was speaking to. 'It draws a direct connection to Atherius, though the sun. Other than being extremely powerful – I do not know how one would use it.'

'What about its place in prophecy's, or in relation to vampires?'

Alduin shrugged his massive wings. 'Krosis Dovahkiin. I do not know. You would have better luck asking Sos Ra…' Alduin suddenly stopped, remembering the last time he had called the vampire female who accompanied Despair a "Blood Animal" that things had not gone well. '..Fahdon Dovahkiin.' He settled.

Despair's brow furrowed at the lack of information that he could easily use. Nevertheless he expressed his thanks to Alduin, who bowed his head as a sign of humility in return. Suddenly Despair's body began to fade – and the old dragon did his best impression of a parting smile.

'It appears that you are needed on Nirn. Until next we meet, Dovahkiin. Tiid Unslaad.' Alduin bid farewell as Despair disappeared from the inner world of his soul and his consciousness rose to the surface, returning to the mortal world.

The first thing Despair felt when he woke up was an immense amount of pain ravaging his body. The second thing he felt was a soft hand wrapped around his own right one. Opening his eyes and blinking furiously in spite of the pain that bereaved him, he recognized the porcelain skin of the hand around his own, traced up the arm that was connected to it and saw Serana, slumped and sleeping in a chair.

He was lying in a bed – his bed, in Heljarchen Hall. Oddly, it didn't feel as comfortable as he remembered – though he could chalk that up to the massive agony he was in right now due to the aftermath of his fight with Ancanor, or that the rumour that vampires only slept in coffins actually had some legitimacy. The room was as he remembered it – except for the fact that his Arch-mage robes were hanging on the wall nearby, as well as his Dragonscale Boots and Gauntlets and Morokei being under them.

Looking down he found his bare torso exposed, his flesh was pale and covered with light scarring – a thick set of bandages were wrapped around his body at the pectoral height, covering the vicious wounds from Ancanor's scissor attack. His muscular frame hadn't diminished since becoming a vampire, if anything the already defined and lean figure that dragonslaying, adventuring and jaywalking had crafted had improved. Though when he remembered his – albeit sleeping – company, he became painfully aware of his partial nudity.

A quick sensory check told him that he was – thankfully – wearing pants under the sheet.

He let his breathing go level and looked around the rest of the room. Over on a table was a bag of medical supplies and paper notes, though belonging to whom was a mystery – Aela didn't have even basic healing training, and he doubted they'd let the visually impaired Dexion be his healer – despite the man's apparent magical ability – if One-Handed Firestorm's were anything to go by.

Growing bored, Despair gave a quick squeeze to the pale hand holding his and he watched Serana's eyes flutter open as she stirred. As soon as she lifted her head from its resting position she saw him – awake and smiling gently at her – then she tackled him.

'You idiot!' She screamed as she leaped into a flying hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. 'How could you do that to me!? How could you even think of risking your life like that!?'

She pounded her forehead into his shoulder – drawing pained winces from The Dragonborn. Her eyes welled up with the beginnings of tears as she rocked violently in the hug, and then settled down into a still form. Serana's face was deep in Despair's neck as she lay on him side-on, her cold breathes running across his skin. Slowly, he brought his right hand up and around her torso – resting it on her back. He wrapped his arm and held her in the hug, unsure of what to say. He was about to try something when suddenly the door burst open and his eyes jerked to see who it was. As he recognized the person though, he tried vainly to cower beneath Serana's body.

Winterhold's foremost magician of Restoration stood in her grey robes and a dark travelling cloak. She was not amused.

'I didn't know the mages did house calls now.' He said stupidly, trying to lighten the situation.

Colette sighed and walked over to Despair's bedside on the left, frowning the entire time. 'I knew you would get yourself into trouble again, but I didn't think even you would do it this soon. Honestly Despair can you not lead a normal life – even for a few days?' She put her hands on her hips.

'Fate cursed me when I was born, you know that.' He said lightly.

'Regardless, you charge headfirst into danger without thinking far too often – even for someone in Skyrim.'

'That isn't true – I'm always thinking about how I'll kill my enemies. It's very hard to maintain two Dremora and an array of buff spells – just ask your collegu-' Despair started.

'Shut up! Do you have any idea on the impact you have on those around you!? The poor girl was so distraught!' She indicated to Serana. ' – I almost couldn't understand what she was saying. And then she tells you ran into a couple of swords and dropped a thunderstorm on yourself!?'

Despair smiled sheepishly, though the guilt was creeping up on him more than he let on.

'Really, she was such a mess I didn't know what to do with her! And then you…' Colette looked outright murderous at Despair. 'Do you know what you've done to yourself!? Due to that little stunt, you've completely fried your ability to perform spells!'

Despair paled completely, his very soul shook to the core when she said that.

'Granted, were it any other mage it'd be permanent, so I imagine you'll be torching Draugr again within the week. Though you better spend a very long time saying thank you to whoever or whatever twist made you Dragonborn.' Colette lectured. 'On the bright side though…'

She leaned down and punched Despair's left arm – prompting the sarcastic Breton to jerk it back and wrap it around Serana in tandem with his right arm, not noticing the fact that he had managed to move it.

'…Your arm's healed.'

Upon closer inspection Despair realized that his arm had in fact, healed. The bone was mended as though it was never broken and he gave it several experimental movements before Colette brought his attention back to her.

'You've already been asleep for three days – though whether that accounts to your magical ability restoring I don't know – and Serana hasn't left your side once. Dexion is upstairs with Oriella and your steward is on standby with several cups of tea for you – though I hinted to her that you probably can't pallet normal food like a normal person anymore.'

'Don't imply that I was ever normal, Colette.' He responded witfully. 'And tea is fine.'

Colette sighed again and got up, about to leave when she suddenly stopped. 'Oh yes, a courier came by yesterday and wanted to give this to you – he said it was urgent.' The Restoration mage reached into her robes and pulled out a small slip of paper, handing it to Despair. 'I'm going to be here until tomorrow should you need anything – though you'll probably be off within the hour anyway.' She made her way to the door and was about to exit when Despair called out.

'Colette!' He paused. 'Thank you.' Referring to all the treatment.

'Don't make it a habit, Arch-mage.' She said as she left.

Despair kept looking at the door for a couple of seconds, and then he was suddenly reminded of the face buried in his shoulder when Serana nipped at his neck with her teeth.

'Ow, hey!' He yelped.

She lifted her head and looked up at him – their faces hardly more than a few centimetres apart – and smiled. Her eyes were a bit puffy and watery, but to him she still looked beautiful. 'Don't do that again.' She told him.

'I can't promise that…' He began to say – she frowned. '…but I can promise that as long as it's in my power I'm not going to die on you.'

Serana looked at him for a little bit, pondering the meaning of that. Her eyes stared into his – and then she suddenly rose off of him, standing. 'That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?' She chuckled.

'Yeah…' He smiled back.

'Read the note, what does it say?' She nodded at the slip of paper in his hand – Despair had almost forgotten about it. He brought it up to his middle and opened it, peering into the contents. Even without reading he suddenly reeled back in surprise.

'Serana…it may just be me…' He turned it over to let her see the contents. '…but does this look like blood to you?'

Her eyes widened as she beheld the crimson letters on the page. He frowned, his assumptions confirmed, and brought the page back for him to read it.

'Despair,' He began to read aloud. 'You are honourably invited to Castle Volkihar's annual Masquerade Ball, held in Castle Volkihar on the 9th of Evening Star.' He stopped reading for a second, his eyes drifting over the last part in case he had misread. Realizing he hadn't, he continued; 'As one of Lord Harkon's chosen few that possess his bloodline, you are a member of high importance and we would be flattered to entertain your presence. Please consider attending.' The letter leaked with so much sycophancy that almost made Despair sick to read it. Though he could understand the situation a little.

Harkon is in a coma…and Serana's mother is outside of anyone's reach. He looked to Serana. She and I are the only ones that possess the "true" bloodline. There was still a little bit of the letter to go, and he kept reading.

'I understand that Lady Serana has taken a liking to you and if you are within communication we would appreciate it if you passed on the message to her.' Despair read out. 'Our couriers have been as of yet unable to locate her.' Despair's eyes descended to the last few centimetres to the page. '…Signed, Garan Marethi.'

Serana looked down at him, a knowing look on her face. 'Father was always planning these things before I was put into that tomb – he said that it felt "fitting" for what he calls; "the vampire nobility".'

'Did you ever attend?'

'No. It's an event that usually requires pairs, and besides he always said I was too young for it.' She replied.

Despair mumbled something unintelligible, looking down at the note. Then suddenly he looked back up at her and said; 'I think we should go.'

'What!?'

'Think about it. As far as Volkihar court goes, you and I are the closest things they have to a royal family – not including Harkon in his coma. Aside from the treatment we'd get, there is a customary reason we have to go. More than that though, there isn't much else we can do; without my ability to perform magic I'm useless – so adventuring isn't a good idea. And don't forget that we have no idea where either your mother or her Elder Scroll is.'

Serana took some time to think about his reasoning. 'Even so, what if they attack us?' She said, the idea plausible enough without any backing up – the court of Volkihar were still vampires above all.

'They won't. I am a chosen receiver of Harkon's bloodline – and you are his daughter. We'll be alright.' He reassured.

Serana sighed, giving in. 'You know that you'll have to wear something nice, your Arch-mage robes won't cut it. Nor will that Dragon Priest mask that you love so much.'

'I figured. Will you be wearing something nice then?' He asked, a sly smile crept up on his face. She didn't respond and Despair let it drop. He decided that it was about time to get out of bed, pushing the covers off his torso and sitting up. With a groan he stretched his legs out and swung them off the bed – only to fall down onto the bed and wince in pain.

'What's wrong?' Serana quickly came to his side, leaning over him.

'It's…the wounds Ancanor left. I'll be ok – just give me a bit of time.' He stopped cringing and rose back up to a sitting position. Slowly – with the help of Serana – he rose off the bed, luckily he had no trouble standing, though his legs ached a little. Quickly he slipped into his usual gear – Serana leaving for a few minutes while he changed out of the trousers and into the full set of the Arch-mage robes out of modesty.

When he left the ground-floor bedroom he had been staying in, he was greeted with the ever-smiling face of his bard, a now blindfolded Dexion, two sternly disapproving women – both opposite ends of the spectrum; Huntress-Werewolf and Restoration-mage, and of course; Serana.

After a quick sortie involving more lecturing The Dragonborn, insisting tea and a good song, Dexion asking for help to the restroom and Despair trying his best not to be suspicious when he denied food from his steward – he and Serana set off. It was only a minute or so until Shadowmere came trotting faithfully to Heljarchen Hall's doorstep at the call of his master.

'I want you to take Shadowmere to Icewater Jetty, I'll meet you at Volkihar.' Despair said to Serana, putting his hand on the black steeds side.

'What, why!? I thought you said we were going to go together!' She protested.

'We will, unless you want someone else trying to grope Volkihar's Princess all night – I just need to do something in Whiterun.'

'Why can't I come with you? You aren't going to leave me alone there are you!?' She asked, growing in volume.

'Don't worry; you'll barely notice I'm not there.' He lifted her up onto Shadowmere's back, helping her take the reins and prepare to ride.

'What's so important you can't bear to bring me with you – that I have to go to Volkihar now!?' She screeched at him.

He grinned. 'Paying a visit to the tailor.' He slapped Shadowmere's rear, sending the horse off with Serana.

'Despair! You better not do anything stupid!' She called back.

'I won't!'

Whiterun.

It wasn't long before Despair was showered in calls of; 'Hail, Thane!' from passing guards, even by foot. Relatively quickly he made it to Whiterun – fortunately not running into any animals or bandits, the only real form of protection he had was his knife and the Dragonscale armour on his limbs. He wasn't sure whether he could still use the Thu'um if his magical powers were temporarily fried, but he didn't want to call attention to himself by testing – especially from any nearby dragons. Walking up the hill that led to the city gates, Despair entered the city.

Don't do anything stupid…He began to chant in his head as he walked further into the city, looking for somewhere he could get something nice made – Radiant Raiment in Solitude wasn't an option – those girls were the height of elitist fashion, and he'd had enough of Elves for a while….Don't do anything stupid…Don't do anything stupid…Don't do anything stupid…

'No chance of that happening anytime soon, Dovahkiin.' The voice of Alduin said mockingly from inside his mind.

Shut up, Wyrm! He returned to his mantra….Don't do anything stupid…Don't do anything-

A dark skinned man in a fine outfit walked up to Despair. 'Do you get to the cloud district very ofte-' THWACK!

Despair's hand had moved on its own, in all honesty. He hadn't intended to backhand Nazeem so hard that it knocked the pompous git into the pavement and sent several splashes of blood flying from the man's nose and mouth. It had just…kinda happened. None of the guards seemed to even try to stop him though and if he wasn't so focused on repeating his mantra in his head he would have heard the quiet sound of someone applauding.

Where can I find someone to make me some good clothes…? He wondered.

Icewater Jetty.

Serana had refused to go to Castle Volkihar without Despair. Shadowmere had long since left her – having completed his master's errand. She stood out in the screaming cold by the water's edge, the small boat that would lead them to Volkihar ready to go at any moment.

Come on Despair…where are you? She looked into the howling blizzard that tore around her, even the new batch of Elves at Northwatch Keep nearby had all gone inside. In fairness, the cold was nothing to her and the constant pelting of the snow was unacknowledged by the vampire. Even so, she was still very, very unhappy.

Last time he and she had separated since Dimhollow Crypt he had pulled a storm down on himself in a suicidal gambit. Granted, he had survived and he had even known that he wouldn't be killed by something as small as that – but it had still frightened all of Oblivion out of her. She had almost lost him.

Regarding the man though – her savior – he had become more than just the only person she could turn to. Much more. The night in Nightcaller Temple – they had slept on top of each other and she had been very hesitant to get up. Then after they had found, fought, killed and resurrected the Moth Priest – they had spent several hours together so close that one may had initially assumed they were just one person. There was also the matter of the "test" that she had run herself through – regarding her feelings – and the answer it had yielded.

The terror that had run through her when he had almost died in his electrical tomb for Ancanor had torn her emotions to shreds, only salvaged when she realized he had somehow survived. Her heart had jumped when he squeezed her hand and she had only gotten off of him after her strangling hug because she feared she would have done something silly.

Like kiss him.

Technically again. She mused. Yes, she couldn't deny the strong attraction she had for Despair, as well as the emotional aspect that had developed and was starting to bloom. However, the only problem was whether he felt those things for her. He was a snarky git – but he was also genuinely nice to everyone around him – that wasn't an enemy. Maybe the affection she had shown him was just his normal way of dealing with people – though a hopeful little part in her prayed that wasn't the case.

She'd just have to wait and see.

Just as she was leaving her thoughts, a dark silhouette began to appear in the white blizzard. As it got closer Serana recognized the whipping tails of Winterhold's Arch-mage robes flapping in the wind and relief flooded over her. Though the figure stopped suddenly when she thought it saw her, and then raised its palm to his masked face.

'You didn't seriously wait out here all this time, did you?' Despair asked as he got to her.

She smiled. 'You did say that I'd barely notice you aren't here.' Despair sighed.

'Come on, let's-' He went to go get in the boat when Serana stopped him.

'Hold on, where's your nice outfit?' She asked. Despair blinked. 'For the Masquerade Ball.'

'Oh.' He patted one of the infinite pockets under the Arch-mage robes. 'I have it. I assume yours is in the Castle already.'

'Yeah, but I haven't ever actually worn it.' She slipped into the front of the boat, taking the oars. '…I hope it fits.' She added quietly as Despair got in after her.

Behind Morokei, Despair's eye twitched as he was suddenly treated to several mental images of the attractive vampire opposite him in a too-tight evening dress. She was stunning enough in the dark robes that was reserved for vampire royalty, and the not so subtle hole in the chest that showed off her cleavage – he could barely fathom how beautiful she would appear when she was actually trying to look nice. Blood rushed in unequal distribution throughout his anatomy as his mind continued to conjure thoughts regarding the girl he had already been having conflicting emotions over.

He looked up – trying to silence the rampant ideas in his head by reminding herself of her actual appearance, not some lurid fantasy that continued to exist without his consent. Instead it had the opposite effect, and Despair became painfully aware of how isolated they were on the small craft in the middle of the sea between Skyrim and Castle Volkihar, how alone they were – together. Everything about her enthralled him; the almost snow-white colour of her skin, the glow in her eyes, the sculpted line of her jaw and the way her lips lay perfectly on her face – so inviting.

They'd been together since they'd met, and not a day had gone by when Despair hadn't thoroughly enjoyed it. She'd cared for him and in return he had done so for her. The question really was why. Aside from her debt – which he'd waved – there was no reason for her to be as affectionate as she was being. Unless...she actually possessed feelings for him.

Ludicrous. He thought cynically, though that didn't ease the discomfort he was feeling from the various factors plaguing him. He still hadn't gotten the suggestive images out of his head.

Despair almost jumped in joy when the looming structure of the castle became visible.

Quickly they had walked up the bridge, Despair leading. As they reached the gates she stopped him, wanting to say something.

'Look, I'm only here because you asked me to be. So make this worth it, alright?' She smirked.

'As you wish, my Lady.' He bowed in half-sarcasm.

They entered, trying their best not to be noticed as they entered the main hall so that they could go to wherever Serana's outfit was and change. It didn't work, and several court members swarmed in on them at once – eventually leaving them be until only one remained.

Why is it always you? Despair asked himself as he regarded the leering face of Garan Marethi.

'You came! I was so anxious you wouldn't make it – we are so honoured to have members of your caliber among us tonight.' It sounded practiced, but Despair couldn't help be flattered by Garan's words. 'I assume you already know who your partner is going to be?' He looked eagerly at Serana, who immediately clung to Despair's arm.

'Yes, we do.' She said.

'Splendid. It would be such a shame if you befell the same curse of solitude as Lord Harkon did when Lady Valerica left him, Lady Serana.' He observed the both of them before continuing. 'We hope you enjoy yourselves. Lady Serana.' He bowed. He turned to Despair and suddenly his smile faltered, but swiftly returned. He had just realized the nature of the situation from Serana choosing Despair.

'…Lord Despair.' He said with reluctance. He immediately turned away and left the pair, the male trying to understand what had just happened.

'Did he just call me lord? I've never been called a lord before.'

'Don't get used to it. Come on, I'll take you to my chambers.' She pulled on his arm and led him out of the room.

After turning through several dark corridors and climbing one very tall spiral tower they made it to Serana's room. She remarked that she hadn't actually been there since she was sealed in Dimhollow, so she had no idea what state it was in. She was shocked though as she opened the room and found it in perfect condition – Harkon must have ordered to keep it maintained after all this time.

'Wow, this is nice.' Despair quietly commented as they entered, admiring the spaciousness.

The room was predominantly laid in a red and black colour scheme, with red banners hanging from the black stone. At the back of the room was a large bed – oddly instead of a coffin – with a detailed mantle carved in gold. Several elaborate chests and wardrobes dotted around the edge of the room, carved in an elegant and horrifying way – fitting of a vampire. It was separated into two levels by a short set of stairs in the middle, the bed and largest wardrobe on the higher platform.

'It's like…I never left…' Serana said slowly in awe.

Despair silently observed the area, it was extremely nice. After a while he turned to Serana and said; 'I'm going to get dressed now. Do you want me to wait for you or would you prefer go down together?' He asked.

'I'll…you go on ahead…I think I'll spend a bit of time up here…' She trailed off, slowly walking into the room and letting herself be enrapt in it. As per the answer, Despair left and descended the staircase, looking around the rest of the castle for a private room to change. Eventually he found one, and not long after he found himself waiting in the transformed main hall, watching the party grow around him.

The tables had been pushed back against the wall to allow space. There was an assortment of meats and corpses lying on them, free for any vampire to feed on. Around the room were several thralls holding plates of empty goblets and a knife at their waist – no doubt to serve as the taps to the vampires. The hall had been redecorated almost from scratch, several more light sources dotting the walls and a huge crimson carpet lay over the floor, giving guests something soft to walk on.

Despair was wearing his recently made formal attire. All the vampires had similar suits that looked like more elegant versions of their typical dress – with higher collars, a third tail and a short cape that resembled bat-like wings. The Dragonborn was much more distinctive.

He possessed a high collar like the others, but his wasn't quiet as tall or prominent as the other children of the nights'. He wore what resembled a Thalmor trench coat in a deep black with the buttons on the top done up. There was a thick fur lining around the shoulders and a bone-white neckpiece. He wore the clawed gloves of standard vampire gear, and the boots – though a slightly more pointed version than the round toes of the standard. His sleeves ended in point around the outside and where the fur on his shoulders ended sprouted a full length, twin-tailed cape. The other attendants assumed that they were representing bat wings like theirs – longer due to his bloodline – but Despair had designed them to be the wings of a dragon, not that anyone else had to know.

As per Serana's instructions he was not wearing Morokei as his mask, rather one of his own make. It was crafted from a large human skull he had found, the white bone matching well with his pale skin. The jaw and face of the skull were joined on each side by three stitches – but the jawbone itself was fixed to Despair's own, so that when he spoke it would move eerily with it, but it was low enough to let his mouth be visible. The face of the skull covered his well – so that his true face was still unknown to all in Harkon's court outside of Serana. His eyes watched sharply from behind the empty sockets.

'It's such a shame Lord Harkon won't be in attendance.' A voice suddenly said from behind Despair. 'But I hope that our Lord Despair will be a fair substitute, if another can even compare to our true lord.'

Despair turned around – his coat tails spinning with him – only to see Garan Marethi, watching him from behind a black, Ebony mask with no features aside from leaf-shaped eyeholes. 'Of course, we are still honoured by your presence.'

'I have to say, this is a better evening than I had imagined.' Despair grinned, ignoring Garan's words. 'Serana mentioned something about this being a pair event though.'

'Lady Serana.' Garan corrected him, though he suspected that Despair enjoyed making him do it. 'Yes, the central event of the evening is – as the name suggests – a ball. Harkon himself hasn't participated in centuries; this will be the first time a pureblood vampire is in attendance in more than an era.' He sounded a little too excited for Despair's liking.

The Dragonborn leaned against one of the tables – careful not to let any blood get on his clothes – and waved his hand, calling a thrall over. 'And you Garan, have you danced this night in the past?'

'I must, as Harkon's second-in-command. Usually I join with Fura Bloodmouth for the evening, she is quite…tender.' He paused as he found the right word. Despair shivered at the implications of that, trying to change the subject.

'…Funnily enough, Vingalmo and Orthjolf seem to fight over her too, though neither of them-' He continued before he was cut off.

'Garan. Harkon's wife; Valerica – did she ever participate?'

'Of course she did. She was usually the centre of attention, always watched from the shadows by a young Lady Serana. They were quiet close to be honest.'

'I've heard, what was Harkon's relationship with her?' Despair asked, his tone turning interrogatory – if Garan noticed he hadn't let on. Both vampires took a goblet from the thrall Despair had called over and filled them with his blood, leaving with an open wrist.

'Lord Harkon and Lady Valerica were very much in love, quite a picturesque family with Lady Serana. After some time though, they became distant. Lord Harkon became more obsessed with the prophecy – all for the benefit of our kind – and Lady Valerica became distant. Eventually she and Lady Serana left, and I haven't seen Lady Valerica since.'

'Any idea where she went?' Despair took a small sip from his goblet as he asked. He noticed Garan's empty cup and how the man was swaying slightly. If blood was a vampires' alcohol, Garan really couldn't hold his liquor.

'…No, neither Lady Serana – I only saw her when you returned her to us…She used to have a splendid garden, and an Alchemists laboratory – though it was blocked off a long time ago by debris.' Garan turned to Despair – about to ask the latter for another drink when suddenly his eyes widened and his glass clattered to the floor. 'By Lord Molag Bal!'

Despair turned to see what the other vampire was referring to, realizing that every other in the room was doing the same. His goblet swiftly joined Garan's on the floor and his mouth hung slightly agape – exposing his sharp teeth. For a moment Despair wondered whether Harkon had completed the prophecy and created an eternal night, because the sun was suddenly eclipsed by something even more beautiful.

The pale-skinned Princess of Volkihar stood atop the balcony above her father's throne. She was wearing a black dress that fell just short of the floor – trailing a little behind her – that was open at the front, showing tight black leggings that accentuated her shapely figure. Her lips had taken on a deep, blood-red rouge colour that contrasted wonderfully with her porcelain features. The shoulders were spiked and the top half of her arms bare, the forearms and hands encased in black leather gloves. The torso of her dress looked similar to the standard gear of female vampires, the body lining her slender frame – with cupped breasts half exposed, proving what Despair had initially thought as modest to be more…

Despair had been right; it was a little too tight.

Her mask was more like a crown; black and gold. It rose up in five short horns at the front and circled around. Her hair was in the same style, framing around her face. Under the five horns on the crown came a black mask, similar to Garan's in style but only descending halfway down the face so that her jaw and mouth were visible.

The Dragonborn was stunned, in sheer awe. Surely the moon must have be hiding away behind the clouds tonight, for it would be embarrassed at its ugliness against this beautiful creature.

Suddenly Despair realized that everyone was staring at her. He quickly climbed the stairs and rose to join her, saving her from scrutiny. As he came beside her he slipped a hand into hers, entwining their fingers. The court remained silent, until the intoxicated Garan suddenly shouted out;

'Ladies and gentlemen of the court; Lady Serana and Lord Despair!' He called.

The court slowly built into a thunderous applause, seeing the first two pureblood vampires in centuries at the annual Masquerade Ball. Eventually it died down, and everyone went back to socializing with each other. Despair turned to Serana and pulled her back from the balcony, bringing her away from the eyes of the others.

'You look…beautiful…' He breathed, his eyes drinking her in.

'Thank you.' She smiled nervously. 'I didn't know how everyone would react. I hope I wasn't too…' She trailed off, unable to think of a word.

'Magnificent?' He suggested.

'That works.' She smiled. He took her other hand in his and held them up at chest height. 'Don't worry, I won't let anyone else touch you – though it might be a bit of a problem keeping them away.'

'I'm sure that won't be any trouble for you.'

'I hope not. I was talking to Garan before you…' He wanted to say arrived, but "completely stopped his heart" seemed more appropriate. 'Well, we talked about your parents and he told me that they used to be close.'

'They did.' She said solemnly. 'But I don't want to dwell on the past tonight. Not right now.' She looked up at his face. 'I like your mask, very…Despair-ish.'

'Thanks, I can't say the same about yours. I have a vendetta against anything that hides your face though.'

She chuckled, though inside she went berserk. Was that comment a friendly one!? Or does it mean something more!? She didn't have time to think though, as Despair suddenly whisked her away with him and down to the main hall.

Entering the lower level the pair received several smiles and greetings from other members of the court. Garan was on what looked like his fourth or fifth glass, and Fura Bloodmouth was standing beside him, holding him up. As they traversed the floor to get some drinks from a thrall, several male vampires were looking at Serana like she was an especially tasty meal – not in the conventional way for vampires'. Despair pulled her close to him, though he also got a couple of hungry glances from some of the females in attendance.

'Thrall.' Despair ordered. The slave gave Serana and Despair a goblet each and filled them with his own blood – he was paling though, as if he had been serving most of the party on his own – or Garan.

Despair shot back a swig of the crimson fluid, downing half the glass. He looked over at Serana, who was drinking it more slowly. His eyes lingered on the way her porcelain neck undulated as she drank, mesmerized. As she finished and looked into his eyes, a smile forced itself to Despair's face and then one to Serana's.

Suddenly a slow, mournful tune filled the hall. Despair and Serana looked over to see a large group of vampires playing several instruments – looking like they were made from human parts. Around them the hall began to assemble in pairs, and they realized that now was the main event.

Slowly they walked together to the middle of the room, taking the centre for themselves. Serana looked nervously at Despair, who smiled back – equally anxious. Tentatively he took her left hand in his right and snaked his other around her waist – she bringing hers up around his shoulder.

'I've never actually danced like this before.' She quietly admitted.

'Don't worry; there isn't much opportunity for a dragon to be indulgent like this. We're as bad as each other.' Despair whispered back.

'Yet to these people we may as well be gods.'

'And you denied that this would be fun.' Despair said.

Serana looked down, then back up into his eyes. 'I find most things involving you to be fun.' She admitted.

'Oh? I'm flattered. But do you think that's because no one else in your life is, or because I actually am?' He asked.

'A bit of both, more the latter I think.'

Despair failed to resist smiling. They were slowly turning on the spot – and Despair managed to catch the hilarious sight of Garan Marethi leaning drunkenly into Fura Bloodmouth's shoulder, drooling into her cleavage. He turned back to Serana.

'Serana. What do you think will happen when we find the third Elder Scroll, and Auriel's Bow?'

'I…don't know. My father will want to use it I assume.'

Despair frowned, that was what he had been afraid of. 'Serana, vampires are creatures that survive by hiding in shadows. What do you think would happen if everywhere was draped in shadows?'

'We…we would have nowhere to hide.' She slowly said.

'That's right. This may be paranoia…but I think that every creature would be driven to destroy us outright if we turned off the sun. With nowhere to hide, we wouldn't survive long.'

'But…are you saying we should stop my father?' Serana asked.

'Yes, probably. Harkon might be driving us to extinction instead of salvation.'

'Then why not just discontinue our search?'

'Harkon is resourceful. Not to mention that he's immortal, he has nothing but time. I don't think we can just leave this be – especially as there are Elder Scroll's involved.'

'So then we have to stop my father.' Serana concluded.

Despair sighed. 'You know him better than I. Do you think he could be reasoned with?'

Serana suddenly went quiet, thinking. 'I…I don't know…After he found out about that prophecy he completely ignored mother and I, becoming obsessed. We stopped being a real family soon after he started pursuing it.' She said, downcast.

Despair furrowed his brow. 'It may be a long shot, and I'm sorry if I offend you…but we may have to kill him.'

Serana suddenly looked aghast at Despair, and then as she realized the situation around them she stopped. Her mind became more understanding of Despair's suggestion, and the reasoning behind it. 'But…' She started.

'No, I'm sorry Serana, I shouldn't have said that – you shouldn't have to decide something like that.' He shook his head, closing his eyes in shame.

'No…it's just…' She squeezed his hand, beckoning him to stop and look at her. 'I think I could do it…if you're assumption is correct…' She looked deep into his eyes and immediately regretted the next thing she said.

'As long as you're with me Despair, I could go on living.'

Immediately they both stopped. The dancers around them kept on going, but they stared at each other. Serana's snow-white pallour turned a light pink all over, and Despair had to consciously make sure his ears were working properly.

Was that…a confession? Did she just confess…to me? He thought, staring into her eyes.

Serana immediately tried to diffuse the situation, spinning them back into the dance – but just as she did, the song ended and all the vampires around them began to break off from their pairings. She could stick around here, not with all the others around them. Regardless of whether she was going to continue what had started, or if she was going to do something else she couldn't do it here – they had to be alone.

She suddenly pulled him with her and they ascended up the staircase to the higher platform of the main hall. Stopping, she turned to him and spoke; 'Despair, I want to show you something.' She had to distract him, stop him from thinking about what she had just said. It wasn't that she hadn't meant it, but she hadn't meant for him to know now.

She led him to the corridor that led to her mother's garden, hoping that would work as a good deterrent. She stopped and panicked when she saw the passage covered up with fallen debris, unable to pass.

'Garan mentioned this to me.' Despair said from behind, still clutching her hand.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She thought. She could take the side entrance, the one outside Volkihar – no, that was ridiculous. So busy in thinking, that she failed to notice that Despair had walked right up to a crack in the debris – large enough for a small child.

He slowly reached his hand into it, when suddenly he disappeared in a swarm of black bats and shot through the hole, leaving her alone.

'Despair…?'

He reappeared, grinning and looking at his hands. 'Hah. Looks like I can still use Blood Magic.' He looked up at Serana before taking her hand and shifting back into the swarm of bats, taking her with him through the hole and leaving the party behind.

Serana gasped and suddenly found herself in a large courtyard – the form of Despair recreating itself next to her from his cloud of bats. As she looked, she slowly realized that it was her mother's garden, eyes opening wide.

'This…'

'So this is your mother's garden.' Despair said nonchalantly. 'I have to say – it must have been pretty impressive when it was being tended to.'

'…You have no idea. This used to be so beautiful…' Serana whispered.

'Coming from you? Wow.' Despair said, Serana blushed.

'We used to spend so many hours here, tending the plants…' She trailed off.

She was lost in looking at it, completely engrossed when Despair started walking, observing the large sundial in the middle. He walked around it, looking at the various moondials around it before making a frowning face.

'This is missing a couple of slots.' He said aloud. Turning his head Despair looked around the garden, wondering if they were still there. A few minutes later, he was carrying three large mirrors of different shape – and slotting them into the empty sockets. Suddenly the dial shifted, making a grinding noise before lowering and creating a stairwell leading down. Serana walked up to it and peered down, wonderment in her eyes.

'By the Daedra…' She whispered. 'My mother never told me about this…'

Despair looked down, and then glanced over to Serana – he hadn't forgotten what she had said just a little while ago. He frowned, unsure of whether he should press for an answer or let it slide and hope for it to resurface again.

If that was a true confession…she'll bring it up again. He concluded, walking to her side and taking her hand. His confident persona continued its dance throughout the journey, smiling up at her.

'Ladies first then?' He asked, indicating the stairwell.