Author's note: uploading this chapter after a brief bout of writer's block, pulled out by my editor's advice. Unfortunately, chapters from here on will be a bit more spaced out than normal-college semester is coming up and it takes priority. In the meantime, enjoy.


Ultimately, it was decided that Vigilant Tolan would return to Fort Dawnguard with Durak and brief Isran on the situation and prepare them for a "guest" of sorts.

Namely, Serana…

Snorri was taking a big risk traveling with her—and Keeper Carcette, for that matter—but he was a rational experienced bard. The first stop was Morthal to see Falion, and then back to the Fort. On the positive side, it was still light out and the storm had subsided; on the other hand, the trio was on foot and exposed.

Snorri, as usual, was not happy being out in the open without some form of shadow, but it gave him an advantage if either of the vampires turned on him, even if he was out of his element. Serana was taking events in stride and, while irritated over traveling in broad daylight, was surprisingly compliant and light on complaints…like a child staying quiet under her mother's glare.

Carcette, on the other hand, was having a terrible time keeping up and was dragging her feet through the snow as they descended the mountain. Snorri ended up going back to keep her on her feet. It was apparent that she had not been exposed to the sun since she was turned and it was made worse by her refusing to drink blood.

They were barely to the Hold's wetlands when Carcette collapsed. Propping her against a tree, Snorri tried to see what was wrong while Serana could only watch.


The vampire saw concern on the bard's face for his friend, Keeper Carcette but she knew the facts: the woman was losing her battle with the bloodlust.

Carcette seemed aware of this fact as she tried to convince Snorri to leave her behind.

"I can't go further," she said. "I know myself…I can't be someone else's burden."

"Just hold on, Carcette," he reassured. "Morthal is less than a mile away; you can make that…"

Carcette smiled sadly and shook her head, "You don't understand, Snorri…I feel the hunger rising. Even if I made it…"

Comprehension lit Snorri's face as he rubbed his fingers across his neck, feeling his pulse. "I understand…let me help you."

Serana watched as he unfastened the gauntlets he wore, exposing skin as he drew a dagger. Looking on, Carcette saw what he attempted and tried her best to squirm away, frightened of what she might do…

"Snorri, please don't…" she begged briskly.

"It's me or some bystander in Morthal," Snorri said. He tugged on a chain around his neck, exposing an amulet—Serana could feel the enchantments on it. "Besides," Snorri said. "I'm protected…"

"Snorri, no…forget it," Carcette trailed. "Just forget it…I might kill you."

"Yeah? Maybe I don't care…" Snorri replied. "I just don't give a damn about what might happen. If you head into town in your state, what will happen is you'll lose control and kill someone else and get us all put to death—Serana will be discovered no matter how well she hides, and I'll be suspected to be a thrall."

Serana had to hand it to Snorri: he had quite a talent for meticulous planning and foresight. The difference between him and most Nords was far more than simply skin-deep. The Vigilant they had met outside her prison exemplified what your average Nord was: brash, proud, and very direct. Snorri was well aware of his competence, yet had a sense of humility and relied on critical thought and subtlety.

Snorri's argument had merit: most vampires—even if they weren't trained in Illusion magic—had at least rudimentary Illusion powers. Serana was equal parts Destruction mage and Necromancer—her knowledge of Illusion may as well not have existed. If Carcette lost control, people may suspect that she wasn't the only vampire around…they would grow suspicious, and Serana would be next.

Serana could see the wisdom in Snorri's move, but then again Snorri was traveling with two vampires…albeit in direct sunlight. He had the advantage in sunlight, even though it was clearly not his favorite time of day.

She heard fangs sink into flesh, interrupting her thought process. She smelled blood before that, along with quicksilver from the Elven dagger Snorri carried—Serana's own hunger was rising. But, having been a vampire for as long as she had, she had learned to control her instincts—she wasn't controlled by them. She dared to look, and saw the inner conflict present on Carcette's face as she drank from Snorri's arm.

Shut eyes and calm breathing indicated contentment with the blood, but it was a stark contrast to the tears running down her cheeks. She wasn't sure whether to feel pleasure or guilt at what she was doing, and Snorri's expression was one of indifference—a blank slate, unreadable even by a master manipulator.

"Alright, Carcette…that's enough," he said.

Except that she didn't stop, and a chill ran down Serana's spine; she knew exactly what was happening. Carcette seem enthralled…entranced by the blood, to the point where she was unwilling to part with the arm for even a moment.

Snorri noticed because as he tried to pry her off, Carcette seemed to frenzy and siphon even harder. Every second that passed, Snorri seemed to become more sluggish.

"That's enough!" Serana yelled and moved briskly behind Carcette and planted a firm hand on Snorri's arm, tugging on Carcette in the process. It did little to stop the siphon and, within seconds, Snorri faded from blood loss.

"Carcette! STOP!" Serana yelled as her fist connected with the side of the frenzied vampire's forehead, knocking her senseless. Carcette's jaw muscles went lax and her fangs slipped out of Snorri's skin.

Dazed, Carcette shook to clear the haze from her eyes. The mist left her vision as she blinked over and over, struggling to regain focus. The hunger she had felt for so long faded, leaving only worry. What had she just done?

Carcette focused her eyes to see that her worries had been justified. Snorri was on the ground motionless and bleeding profusely from his forearm.

"Is he?..." Carcette started.

"He's alive," Serana said. "Barely…"

"Divines…" Carcette trailed.

Serana tried to feel Snorri for heat, but she gave off no heat of her own. But as best as she could tell, Snorri wasn't going cold.

Stupid… she thought of herself and of Snorri.

It was as she touched him that Serana noticed something unusual—his features felt…different than they looked. She frowned in confusion—his face as a whole should have felt narrower, his chin should not have felt like it was jutting, his cheeks did not look all that deep, and his nose looked tilted upwards but felt like it should have been straight.

Who was this man?

"Interesting…" Serana muttered under her breath.

The air behind her shifted as Carcette moved closer to her.

"How are you with Restoration?" Serana asked.

"I'm no master," Carcette replied, her hand giving off the telltale golden glow of a readied healing spell. "But I should be able to provide some healing."


Snorri awoke an hour later, just hours before sundown. The world felt like it was rocking underneath his body—he could hardly keep his head straight. He felt one lung short of a proper breath. As hard as he tried, Snorri couldn't take a deep breath.

He felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the air around him. The chill came from his marrow as it struggled to make up for lost blood.

He needed water, and a lot of it.

As much as he willed them to, Snorri's arms refused to move. He grunted, gaining the attention of the women nearby. Serana was the first one to grace his vision, the clash of raven hair and snow-white skin sending lightning through his body, causing him to snap to full awareness.

"You're awake," Serana stated simply.

"You're statement of the obvious is most…charming," Snorri muttered.

"I call things like I see them…"

"I'm carrying waterskins, but my body is…shall we say, on strike," Snorri said. "Would you kindly get me some water? Maybe even a potion or two…"

"You're asking a vampire for help?" Serana asked incredulously, a chuckle finding a way into her voice.

"Hey, I was out…and you didn't leave me for dead or suck me dry. That counts for something, right?"

"Leave you to die and lose my tour guide?" Serana asked with a half smile.

"I must be a pretty bad tour guide to be lying down on the job…now can you please help me?"

"Only because you begged so nicely…" she trailed.

Getting the skins off of Snorri's person was a little dicey, as Serana had to force him to sit up and had to lift his arm to get the rope past his head. Like a desperate alcoholic—he downed that water as if it were mead or gin. It was what his entire world revolved around in that instance.

He wasn't keen on the bitter taste of his self-brewed healing potions, but it really helped his body's stamina. Heat flushed into his limbs as they finally decided to respond to his mind's commands.

With Snorri's potions, one didn't need to take a dip in cold water to wake up. He snatched up a stamina potion, and another, and one after that, too. After which he looked no worse for wear.

"Snorri?" Carcette's voice said.

He looked over to where she sat, seeing the normally stern Carcette acting uncharacteristically timid.

"Have a nice meal?" he asked with a chuckle.

Her timid expression turned to one of shock.

"You – you're not furious?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm burning mad like an Atronach," he replied with no change in inflection. "I might burn a random village to the ground just because I'm in such a bad mood…"

Lub-dub, lub-dub his heart went as absolutely no words were exchanged. Serana was unreadable, and Carcette seemed to be torn over whether he was serious or not.

"That was a joke…" he trailed. "I know you wouldn't have chosen to do that."

"Anyways," he continued, "if you're done snacking, I say we get to Morthal and get you cured."