Tales of The Dragonborn Chapter 10: Hannibal, an elder scroll series fanfic

I do not own the Elder Scrolls nor anything affiliated with it.

'Wake up.'

…What?

'Wake up!'

Despair blinked within his own subconscious; surrounded by the darkness he called his own. The voice repeated itself, becoming more frantic with each recital. He willed himself upright – as there was no metaphysical ground to stand upon this far in his mind – and floated like a Dragon Priest.

Alduin? He thought out, only to receive no response. Then the voice called out again and Despair now acknowledged the difference between it and the world-swallowing texture of Alduin's speech.

'Despair!?'

His mind ticked suddenly. 'S-Serana…?' No response came to this call either, but a small light abruptly glimmered into existence at the edge of his vision. He focused on it – like a lone star in the night sky – then willed himself towards it. At first his body would not move – muscles stiff, but he forcibly enslaved his limbs and commanded them.

Though as he slowly began to inch forward, the light suddenly burst open and blinded him in its glare. 'Gah!' He flinched back and raised his arms over his eyes, shielding them. For several seconds he held there, but discovered that the intensity of the illumination wouldn't subside and decided to risk lowering his hands.

Strangely, the radiance didn't feel harsh to him – not even slightly uncomfortable as it had since becoming a child of the night.

'Despair!?'

Serana called out to him again, from the centre of the light. With a sardonic chuckle and a spark rising within his unbeating heart he forced himself towards that centre – and back to Mundus.

Auri-El's Chapel, recently renovated.

With a grunt Despair pushed a particularly large slab of roof off of his body – freeing himself for the most part. Immediately he felt the pain stack up – largely the bruising he had taken from bearing the falling ceiling. He reached his right arm out across the floor and clawed into it – using that to pull himself out from the rest of the rubble. A cloud of dust obscured him when he freed his legs of the debris, but quickly settled and greyed his clothing.

'Cough, cough…' He weakly spat out and flopped down onto the ground, limp and tired. He would have gone to sleep there and then if not for a certain interference.

'Despair!' Serana called – untouched by the ruins or the dust. She remembered being violently pushed to the side before the ceiling hit the ground, then being unable to find her other afterwards. She ran over to him and slid into a kneel beside his prone form. He wasn't moving at all and tears began to well in her eyes.

Her first instinct was to check his pulse, but as she curled his fingers around his wrist she realized; How stupid of me, vampires don't have pulses!

She then reached around his torso and turned him over so that he was on his back. At first she simply put her hands on his chest and shook him, trying to wake him up. When that failed her lip quivered and a near-silent; 'N-no…' sounded.

Then an idea gripped her. A childish, fairy-tale idea that would be quite at home in the mind of a princess. With her left hand she trailed upwards to the jawline of his mask and clutched the visage of Morokei that meant nothing to her but Despair. Her Despair. She started to pull up, loosening the mask from his face – but suddenly a hand shot up to catch her forearm.

Wrought in Dragonscales, Despair's left hand steadily pulled Serana's limb away and off his mask – leaving it on. Even though he was covered, she could tell that he was grinning and looking at her.

'Not quite yet.' He reassured, unable to help but tease her.

The water in her eyes shimmered for a moment before she pulled him into a tight hug, lifting his torso off the ground. After a second of confusion he simply smiled and wrapped his arms back around her – letting them share the moment together.

'You…idiot…'

She closed her eyes and hummed happily, until they were rudely interrupted.

'How touching! I suppose you'd like me to wed you too!?' Both Serana and Despair jerked their heads in the direction of the voice, and saw Vyrthur standing arrogantly on the platform where his throne used to be. The sky and sun shone down at the lovers, through the blown-open wall from Vyrthur's most recent act of magic.

As both the vampires rose to their feet, Despair couldn't help look at Serana and say; 'We are in a chapel after all.' If she acknowledged the joke she didn't let on.

'Enough of this Vyrthur; give us the bow! Or do we have to kill you for it?' Serana declared, taking the stance of a proud vampire princess.

'…Didn't we already decide we were going to kill him…?' Despair whispered over to her.

The Arch-Curate scoffed back at them and turned, fleeing to the balcony behind him. The hunters quickly gave chase to their prey. When they entered the balcony they saw that it rose to a second platform – two stairways on either side leading up to it. In the centre was another Wayshrine, though this one lacked a bowel at the centre – instead possessing an empty altar.

They ignored it and cornered Vyrthur on the second platform for both sides. Oddly, the Snow Elf was hunching over and panting – completely different from when inside he had been composed and radiating power. Despair couldn't help notice the way he bent under the sun's rays – but pushed it aside.

'Give up Vyrthur; or do you really think you can beat the two of us without your horde of Falmer?' Serana snarled at him, readying magic in both hands.

'How dare you! I was Arch-Curate of Auri-El – I had the ears of a God, until He turned his back on me!'

She rolled her eyes. 'Yes we know this sad story, that you were corrupted by The Betrayed and-'

'Gelebor and his kind are easily manipulated fools.' Vyrthur cut her off. 'Look into my eyes Serana, you tell me what I am.' At those words he forced himself to straighten up, giving the girl a better look into his globes.

She took only a second but on the other side of Vyrthur; Despair was quicker on the uptake. 'A vampire.' He answered flatly.

Vyrthur turned to scorn at Despair – both annoyed and amused that Serana's unremarkable companion had answered first. He still had no idea who this masked, robed character was.

'Well done, boy. I am indeed just as you both are – a vampire.' Despair almost throttled Vyrthur at the name-call, but held back. 'One of my own initiates turned me into what I am – but despite all my years of service Auri-El immediately turned his back on me.'

The white-skinned Elf turned back to Serana, taking pleasure in her shocked expression. 'So I decided to get revenge, no matter the cost. It wasn't like I had a time limit after all.'

'You decided to get revenge…on a God?' Serana's eyebrow rose quizzically.

Again, Vyrthur scoffed. 'Auri-El himself was beyond my reach, but his influence on our world was not. I already had the bow; all I needed was the blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour.' Serana paled at the last set of words, shock flashing all over her face.

'Daughter of…' Despair took a moment to repeat Vyrthur's words, still unfamiliar with what the full term entailed.

'You…you created that prophecy…The prophecy that made my father mad!' She was torn between horror and rage, freezing under the realization.

'What of it? That's hardly my concern.' The Elf suddenly broke into a leer and reached out to Serana, his fingers brushing lighting through her hair. 'So Serana, won't you give me a bit of your blood?'

Despair was about to lunge and snap the Elf's neck without a second thought – outrage buildings alongside his possessive nature. However, Serana beat him to it and her face turned from shock to a vicious display of wrath – contorting in a way that was both beautiful and terrifying. Her hands moved like lightning around his throat and her claws curled around.

'I'm afraid I'm fairly attached to my blood, Vyrthur.' With hardly a show of effort she lifted him off the ground, leaving his legs to dangle helplessly. 'Besides, not all of it is mine to give.' She squeezed tighter, prompting a strangled gasp from her victim. 'Let's see if yours has any potency to it, shall we?'

Despair saw her shoulders tense as she prepared to simply push down and crush Vyrthur's neck absolutely in a "clap". But just before she could do it the Arch-Curate kicked off her stomach and floated away into the air, snarling and summoning lights in his palms.

'Enough! This time, to the death!'

The lights exploded and blinded the two vampires for a second. When they could see again Vyrthur was brandishing a bone-white sword that curved at the end and his entire left forearm was cloaked in Ice Destruction magic.

Despair was the first to attack, conjuring his Bound Katana and swinging diagonally. Vyrthur easily held it at bay with his own sword but the Arch-mage simply drew his weapon back and stabbed it forward – though the Snow Elf tilted his head to the side and dodged it. Then Despair suddenly burst into a vicious flurry of slashing strikes, forcing Vyrthur to retreat a step back.

Just as the Arch-Curate readied his powerful Ice magic to strike back at Despair, a snarl from his left took his attention. Serana fired several missiles of Ice Spike at the Elf and Vyrthur had to cast a strong Ward, breaking his concentration for the first spell.

'Gah! You mortal's never learn!' He parried another blow from Despair's blade and knocked Serana off her feet with a blast of magic. Vyrthur then danced around The Dragonborn and sliced into his leg, bringing Despair to his knees.

Perhaps…but if that's true – then you know nothing at all! 'Tiid! Klo! Ul!'

The executioners' swing that Vyrthur was halfway through slowed with the march of time, losing all fatality. Calmly, Despair healed his wounds with Restoration and stood up. He then went over and with an extended hand he helped Serana back to her feet – earning a sarcastic chuckle from her as he did.

'Shall we?' Even in the midst of battle they were casual – after all, time had slowed to their whim. She didn't need to answer for him to know.

Time resumed and Vyrthur's blade bounced off the floor. A short gasp of surprise emitted from him when he saw that Despair was not there – headless as he expected. Quickly however he became aware of the duo before him and bared his arms. Vyrthur closed his left-hand fingers around shimmering air – as if he was casting a Ward but holding it like a shield.

Serana and Despair then flung their arms out, splaying their fingers like an octopus about to strangle its victim. The vampiric Arch-Curate was about to charge and strike them down, but then his enemies discharged electricity from their palms. He was forced to hold up his Shield-Ward and keep his ground.

However as he realized just how strong the Destruction magic that he was receiving was, he found even that difficult to manage.

With a grunt he dug his heels into the ground, cracking it. 'Damn you! Damn you and damn Auri-El!' Vythur's rage built up again and he focused as much magic as he could into his Ward while pushing back. Little by little he edged forward; each step exhausted his Magicka pool and forced him to wait until it regenerated. Still, he was making progress. All the while he glared intently at them, their forms seemed to shimmer and flicker – probably an onset of looking through a Ward and the amount of magic they were generating. Probably.

Now! His thoughts screamed out and forced his body to act. Like a flash he lowered his shield and simultaneously slashed forward, cleaving his blade through both adversaries. Their forms swayed and toppled – barely held together by the solely untouched spinal cords – and hit the ground soundlessly. Vyrthur reveled in his victory, but his celebration was short-lived and premature – like a stillborn baby.

The two corpses suddenly exploded into a cloud of shrieking, black bats. They swarmed around the pale Elf, forcing him to keep his arms up and shield his eyes. 'What!? What sorcery is this!?'

He suddenly felt a piercing sensation in his sword-arm, coming from behind. The cloud of bats disappeared accordingly as he turned, revealing the two other, very much alive, vampires. Despair's right arm was outstretch, fingers wrapped around a chain that started in his left hand. Serana had her arms around his right. At the end of the chain – long and of violet ethereal – was a pointed spear-tip, embedded in Vyrthur's arm.

'I have a good friend in Winterhold who believed that Illusion is truly the least respected school of magic. When one gets as good as I, they may as well warp reality itself.' The smirk was seen from behind Morokei, but one could hear it clear as anything in Despair's voice.

'No…' Vyrthur growled bestially.

'Now, let's see if we can't do something about that pesky sword arm.' He suddenly pulled, jerking Vyrthur along. The Snow Elf pushed down into the ground, crunching his soles into it. Despair tightened his grip around the chain and pulled again, this time with Serana's aiding strength. Vyrthur fell forward and was pulled through the air. With his left hand Despair caught Vyrthur's collar, raveling the rest of the chain around the Elf's captured right arm.

'Fus…! Ro! Dah!'

The force – unrelenting – blasted into Vyrthur's helpless form and shot him away. He tumbled across the balcony and crashed hard into the far rails. They didn't break though, and slowly the Arch-Curate rose to his feet – now the majority of his limbs.

Arrogantly, The Dragonborn held the dismembered right arm of his foe aloft. It dripped blood steadily and looked cleanly ripped – right out of flesh and socket. At the same time that the dead fingers dropped the sword and it clattered to the ground, Vyrthur let out an anguished howl that echoed into the Vale below.

'How dare you! Who do you think you are!?' He screeched, clutching the bleeding stump harshly, fingers digging into the exposed flesh.

Almost innocently, Despair cocked his head. 'Me?' He asked with the child-like tone of a toddler. He suddenly exploded into a swarm of bats – utilizing Blood Magic – and appeared again in front of Vyrthur. With his left hand he flickered a ball of flame into his palm, using his right to clutch Vyrthur by the collar again.

'You're bleeding.' He observed in a quiet monotone. 'Let me patch you up.' Harkon's chosen – and Serana's, in a different way – then held his left hand up to Vyrthur's shoulder-stump and let loose a weak stream of fire. It burned over the bleeding wound and clutching fingers of Despair's victim and Vyrthur's screams rose higher than the roaring flames.

'Stop! End this now!' His commanding tone had reduced to crying pleas. The flames that seared his unarmed right licked at his face and chest, savouring the taste. 'Please!'

'Silence!' Despair roared like a shockwave, suddenly shouting. 'You wanted to put out the sun and take revenge on a deity, but you can't handle playing with a little fire!?' He stopped the burning torrent and instead gripped that same scorched, open wound – possessing no delicacy in the act. Like a ragdoll, Despair tossed his target of rage away. Vyrthur crashed hard into one of the inner chambers walls, returning the fight inside. It didn't last long though – as another cast of the Bound Chain pulled Vyrthur right back out.

'You want blood Vyrthur!? How about your own!?' As the pale Elf hurled over – pulled on the chain – Despair conjured his Bound Scythe. The long, crescent blade and Vyrthur's soft belly met mid-swing, eyes bulging out from impact. The curved edge gorily cleaved the Elf in two and both halves splattered loudly against the ground. His legs kept going – sliding in their own crimson ichor – and tumbled off the edge of the balcony, forever lost.

The top half though crawled desperately away. With only one arm and no legs Vyrthur managed an impressive two feet of distance before Despair reached him. As the scythe blade slid under his throat between it and the ground the Snow Elf was forced to raise his head, until his cranium met Despair's boot.

'Remember my name…as you become a memory.'

Vyrthur's eyes widened in fear. Too petrified to even scream, he fish-gasped his last words before The Dragonborn's guillotine rose.

'Despair.'

…

Serana watched the proceedings in mixed horror and satisfaction. Despair's ferocity was not quite new to her – even this extremity could be justified with his possessiveness to her and how Vyrthur had wronged her, but she was still mortified to see it. Even Volkihar's Court would have been horrified by Despair's capacity for cruelty.

At the same time it could be easily said that she was content. Now that the adrenaline was gone she was holding up surprisingly well despite having just realized that someone was directly responsible for her family tearing apart – much less meeting that man.

When her brain kicked back into gear, her first instinct was to see Despair and console him – Talos knows what state of mind he was in. Her surprise was voiced with a yelp when strangely it was he who turned and asked if she was alright. It took her a moment to catch up to his meaning.

'I…I think so. I guess I should be more…shocked? Being several centuries at least old desensitizes you.' She was slightly flustered, still red from the fight. When they reached each other he pulled her into a tight hug, comforting her with his touch.

'Are you sure?' He whispered, no voice lost to the mask.

She replied with a nod, burying her nose into his shoulder. When they pulled apart they smiled upon one-another, but were rudely interrupted by the sound of a strangled gasp.

They turned to the torn-open interior and saw a tall, pale figure, clad in ivory armour. Knight-Paladin Gelebor staggered past the pair open-mouthed, staring at the corpse of his brother – or at least the biggest piece – in shock. Gelebor's eyes jumped several times from the strewn limbs of Vyrthur before settling sentimentally closing them over his brother's decapitated head. When he reopened the lids they rested on Despair and Serana, both standing passively but ready for another fight. Just in case.

'No…' The Snow Elf said in a defeated manner, raising his palm peacefully. 'You did what you had to, I asked you to do it anyway. I would have preferred that he remain in one piece, but we can't all have what we want.'

Despair poorly stifled a chuckle and shrugged. 'Sorry Gelebor.'

The Elf sighed sadly and looked down. 'There were so many of The Betrayed…it's no wonder he was overpowered.'

Serana suddenly twitched and stepped forward. 'It wasn't The Betrayed!' She exclaimed. Gelebor gave her a puzzled look and hence she began to explain. When the exposition was done he had a crestfallen but enlightened look on his face.

'A vampire you say…I see, I understand now.' He gave a forlorn stare to the ground in the memory of his brother, when suddenly he jolted up with a strange expression on his face. Despair and Serana visibly flinched as his features conformed to something that looked so unfamiliar on the visage of the Snow Elf, an emotion that hadn't been seen for centuries. They summarized it when he spoke, giving taste to the texture.

'That means there's hope for The Betrayed!'

They summarized it as joy.

The pair looked queerly at Gelebor before coming to the same conclusion, mulling it over internally. Serana couldn't help but break into a smile when she confirmed the possibility for hope in her own mind. Despair gave a low chuckle.

'But, that is my concern, not yours.' Gelebor turned to face the balcony Wayshrine and raised his hands, as if calling to something. A bright light glowed and forced the vampires to avert their gaze, but when they looked back they gasped in awe. Within the Wayshrine – floating above the basin-less altar – was the most beautifully crafted creation that ever existed. Serana stood in wonder while Despair slowly waded up to take his prize.

With his Dragonscale-armoured left hand he reached out and pulled the radiant weapon from its suspension – a twinge of guilt running through him simultaneously. It felt like stealing directly from a god, even if he himself was an avatar of sorts for another deity.

His fingers curled around Auriel's Bow and he felt its power, burn through him like a sun in his palm. His vampiric biology winced to handle such a weapon; it went completely against his affinity to blood and shadow to do so. Nevertheless, after admiring it he slid the bowstring over his shoulder and equipped it. With that he turned to Serana and smirked.

'Come on, don't we have a monster to slay?'

Castle Volkihar.

Despair and Serana both looked steely up the bridge. He had changed on the way over, donning his right-hand Dragonscale gauntlet and a modified chestpiece that fitted under his Arch-mage Robes. In accordance to that he had draped over his shoulders; a twin-tailed, worn cloak of black – drawn from the same cloth as the infamous Dragon Priests themselves.

'Are you sure you're ready for this?' Despair asked one last time, concerned for his lover's sake.

'Y-yeah…' She looked down before meeting his gaze. 'I suppose my father died a long time ago. It would be naïve to hope that we could be a family again. Not after Vyrthur…'

He consoled her. 'Shh…don't think about that.'

After a few more moments they started heading up, but they'd only gotten halfway when a figure began running at them. Despair quickly recognized the pale, Dunmer pallour of Garan, his robes flapping in the icy winds.

My favourite. He thought sarcastically. Alduin chuckled within.

When he reached them he was out of breath, almost certainly from a contained excitement rather than the physical strain of running. Though – based on how much Volkihar's court seemed to lounge around – you never know. He smiled excitedly at the twosome before speaking.

'Lady Serana, Despair-!'

'Lord Despair.'

'It's fortunate that you arrive at such an hour, for our glorious Lord Harkon has revived!'

The rest of Garan's words were deafened from that point on. Despair and Serana paled and turned to one another, almost communing telepathically. They had initially agreed to kill Harkon as he slept, but now a spanner had been thrown into the works. Within barely any time at all they had already agreed silently on what they were going to do. Awake or not, they were going to kill Harkon.

Fortunately, this took just long enough for Garan to finish talking.

'Do hurry. I'm going ahead to tell Lord Harkon of your arrival.' He ran back to the castle, grinning and leaving Despair and Serana.

'Damn.' Despair said flatly after a silence. He entwined his fingers with Serana's, who was shaking. He turned over and asked; 'Are you alright?'

She breathed. 'I was…ready to kill him. At least he would be asleep…but now…' Trailing off, she was quickly brought into Despair's embrace. He was about to comfort her again, but she was quicker. 'It's fine…I won't let him live. Nothing has changed…'

But it had, even if only marginally.

Silently, Despair escorted her forward and they entered the castle. Their entry was greeted with vicious smiles of congratulations. Even to the two of them – one a dragon bound in mortal flesh and the other their lieges' sole inheritance – Despair and Serana were seriously unnerved by the leering vampires. The court almost convened around them, creating a one-way hallway and forced them onwards. They looked hungry.

However the pair quickly reached the antechamber to where Harkon was waiting. Despair had never been inside, but Serana told him hastily that it was almost the unwritten heart of the keep. Liberated in solitude, they turned to one another to prelude battle. Whether they were conscious of it or not, emotion had begun to weave around them. Of multiple natures was the metaphysical wrappings, but one rose above others.

'Despair…' She looked upon him, maintaining the close proximity. He calmly waited for her to continue, and they slowly edged themselves so that the wall was at her back.

'I know he's my father, but of the two of you…I would choose you.'

Despair couldn't resist. 'In his defense, he didn't set the bar very high…' This earned him a light push.

'I'm serious. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you, him…' It didn't need to be spoken to be understood.

'And I, Serana.' He voiced his reciprocation, plainly and bluntly. They moved closer and his hands moved up to her face, his fingers trickled upon her jawline. In turn she slid her fingers below the edges of his mask and gingerly worked it off. When she loosened it and lowered it away, her eyes drank in his face, salivating.

His expression was neutral. Zero. It gave nothing of his intent away.

Within those features – paled by undeath – Serana saw everything. She could see the arrogance of a mage, the roaring flame of competitiveness that burned within warriors and the quick-witted resourcefulness of a thief. There lay the amorality of an assassin, the pride of a soldier and the predatory cunning of a vampire. Perhaps most prominent was the powerful lordship of a dragon, bursting with the innate urge to dominate.

Above, through, accumulated and in spite of that, she saw the man who had rescued her from Dimhollow Crypt. The same man who had become her companion, who had guided the stranger through a familiar land. He was hers, and she was more than glad to say she was his.

'…Shall we?' He whispered, leaning in slowly. They both had waited for this, no answer needed to be given.

Her jaw quivered in anticipation as the space between them lessened. She knew what was coming, but it seemed that time had stopped in order to prevent it. The deep breath was eternal, but shattered into nothingness once they took the plunge, and their mouths crashed.

Swiftly he stole her first kiss, and it was given without hesitation. Following after he conquered her second and third, and so forth.

Nervous as each other, they danced in clumsy harmony. Their lips melded and fought for dominance, moist and pliant to each other's touches. The soft texture of the collision drowned both in ecstasy, enthralled. He might have had past experiences – she didn't know or care – but this was his first, true notion of a kiss. A declaration of love without words.

In unison he brushed her hair away and pushed with his tongue. She granted entry, beginning to succumb to the innate lust of vampires. Within her cavern they twisted with one another, his tongue and hers.

They continued their oral dance for an indiscernible amount of time – and for every unmeasured moment their – particularly her, untamed and virgin meme – libidos pushed higher and higher to the surface. He could control it, to an extent at least. The rest of her body joined in, convulsing with the exchange, grinding against his.

He smirked playfully when she nipped at his tongue and when she started losing control. He could continue it, but that would be teasingly cruel. Had he the chance, he would have taken her right there, but at the moment the quest took priority.

Their first kiss ended, leaving both panting and wet – for more than the mouth in Serana's case. She almost collapsed against the wall, overwhelmed. Despair couldn't help but grin as he licked her residue from his lips.

Perhaps I went a bit too far…He was caught up in it as much as she in fairness, but he had also been leading it. When her eyes fluttered back open she gazed with forlorn lust, denied of release.

'…Despair…' She breathed, attempting to lean in for a second round. However, with a single finger he held her at bay. They couldn't get caught up in the lust, not yet anyway. With that she slowly recomposed herself, steeling her mind for the battle ahead.

They turned forth to the imposing doorway to the castle's heart, ready. He wound his hand into hers as he re-masked with the other. 'You're…so beautiful.' He murmured, for her ears only. She couldn't help but smile and shift a complimented blush, squeezed her fingers around his.

Suddenly her hand tensed, not of her own doing. Then her arm followed suit and stiffened. She began to panic internally when Despair started talking.

'Serana, you know yourself that the two things Harkon needs is the bow…and you. Even with the intent to kill him, it would be lethally foolish to bring him those two things.'

The freezing continued, ailing her shoulder and upper-left torso.

'I would ask you to run and run, until I found you again – we cannot risk us losing and giving Harkon the chance to complete the prophecy. But I know you wouldn't do that, you wouldn't let me fight alone.'

Now her legs were stiff and she buckled, Despair catching her in his arms. It was then she saw the small, yellow-green light dancing between his fingers – the same hand that had held hers. It was Alteration magic from a high level of the branch.

A paralysis spell!

'I apologize for doing this, but I will not risk Skyrim if we die.' He lowered her down, the paralysis rending her unable to move. Laying her delicately on the ground, and placed Auriel's Bow beside her – Despair gazed longingly into her erratically darting eyes. Tears had begun to form.

'This won't take long to wear off. When it does I want you to run until I find you again.' He chuckled. 'Of course, what's the likelihood of you doing that?' When he stood up he could see her frail attempts to move as his fingertips twitched weakly. Even Alduin cringed at her fall to his deceit; the World-Eater didn't have the appetite to respect Despair's intentions.

'I love you, Serana.'

With that he left her, disappearing through the large doors and locking them behind him.

Inner.

'So, the dragon has returned.'

Despair immediately tensed and willed electricity into his palms – but he kept them hidden under the Dragon Priest Cloak, centering the building energy to his two first fingers on each hand. A few moments of observation yielded the knowledge of Harkon's whereabouts.

The room was dark and carved from a stone blacker than the rest of the keep. Cobwebs hung from the pillars and low stairs rose into two platforms on either side of the rectangular chamber. At the back and centre was a well-kept altar of Molag Bal, the likeness of his horned visage spewed blood. A few feet in front of it stood proud, tall and very much awake; Lord Harkon.

He wore the same Royal Vampire Robes as he had when they last and first met. This time however Despair noted the elaborate gold and red crown on his brow and the curved blade at his waist. The sword drew semblance from the Blades' dragon-slaying weapons and it unnerved Despair to look at, especially in relation to the title he had been addressed by.

'Does Alduin's slayer have no words then?' Harkon spoke again, wearing an arrogant smirk.

Despair frowned at the denouncement. How would he know that…Nevertheless he retained a confident façade and strolled forward.

'None that you have any right to hear.'

'Oh, so there is some bark to your bite. Tell me Dragonborn, why haven't you brought Auriel's Bow to me as my servants instructed?' He gazed behind Despair. 'And…where is my daughter?'

'Safe.'

'Safe? Why would she need to be safe?' He hissed the word.

'Don't play with me, Harkon. I'm in no mood.' Despair stopped walking and raised his hands, squaring both at his vampiric sire.

The elder sighed and dropped his pleasantries. 'Very well, but only if you do the same.' Despair raised an eyebrow before Harkon continued. 'Dragonborn! Hero of the Empire in Skyrim, Champion of as many Daedric Princes…! Arch-mage, Harbinger, Thieves Guildmaster and however many other titles you have obtained.' Harkon sneered. 'You've been quite busy; Despair, though I suppose it should simply be in a dragon's nature to dominate.'

'What does that have to do with all this?' Despair countered.

'Nothing really. I just want to know who I am killing.'

Good luck. 'And how is it you came by that knowledge?' Though he was fairly certain he already had that knowledge.

Harkon scoffed and almost broke into a laugh. 'Vampires have the ability to learn their victims' memories dependent on how much we drink of their blood. While your…dragons' blood may not have been the best for anyone but yourself, I learned more than enough about you.'

Despair knew that, at least the first part. The latter made sense, but that brought to mind the question of how Serana had taken his blood without ill consequence.

'Of course, falling into a blood-induced coma was as hindering to my plans as it was humiliating. I must thank Garan somehow for making sure the prophecy was fulfilled in my absence anyway…perhaps I shall permit him into our fold?'

Despair snarled.

'But first things first…' Harkon's sly smile turned dark and his eyes flashed red. He reached out a hand, palm up. 'Give me Auriel's Bow and my daughter.'

The Dragonborn let the question settle like dust over the mood, preparing his body for the fight. 'She isn't yours anymore; Serana will not suffer for your whims.' Harkon's eyes went wide at the implications of that statement, true or not.

'You…!' He roared and in a rain of black and red; imploded. Despair turned away to avoid the shocking sight, but was punished for it when a force suddenly blasted into him and pinned him against the wall. The grey-skinned, crowned Vampire Lord held Despair several feet off the ground against the wall, grinding its prey's neck between the stone and its forearm.

'How dare you!? She was not yours to claim!'

A gagged cough was the only reply he got, followed swiftly by a sharp kick to the gut. It didn't knock Harkon loose but it gave enough for Despair to breath.

'…She never was…she claimed me…'

A roar of fury punctuated Harkon's next strike, one that would have reduced Despair's head to a blood splatter on the wall. In the nick of time The Dragonborn called upon his Thu-um and burned the world in front of him, along with Harkon's arm and shoulder.

'Yol! Tuur! Shul!'

'GRAH!' The King of Volkihar hit the ground and rolled several times over, his arm blackened. Despair fell to the ground and landed on one knee, steadying himself with his hands. Without wasting any time he willed Harkon's gift to his call and shifted, ignoring the excruciating pain of transformation.

'Hah! You think that will work on me!? You're pathe-' Harkon was interrupted when Despair's Vampire Lord Form lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat. The younger crashed his sire into the altar of Molag Bal, ensuring that the Daedra's horny visage pierced Harkon's back.

With a shriek of pain the king pushed his attacker off and disappeared in a swarm of bats, reappearing on one of the higher platforms. The sounds caused by muscle tissue and bone reconstructing from where the altar had cut into him were audible, but neither fighter was fazed.

'How naïve, you think you can outmatch me as a Vampire Lord!?' Harkon boasted, spreading his boney, flightless wings out in intimidation. He gasped when Despair suddenly kicked off the ground and flew up at him, tackling the king into the wall behind. Dust and debris fell as Harkon shook Despair loose, throwing him back down to the lower level. The Dragonborn however, caught himself in midair and revealed his unique powers.

'Impossible! How can you- There hasn't been a flying Vampire Lord in eons!'

Despair's wings beat rhythmically as he hovered, mocking his sire in silence. 'Just so, but I'm not only a Vampire Lord.' He suddenly shot forward and took Harkon by the head, flying sideways against the chamber walls and grinding the elder into them. When he finished he tossed his enemy down, curling his talons around a railing and observing the fallen blood-lord from above. 'How pitiful, Harkon. Is this the best you can offer?'

Without warning the king's prone form exploded into darkness, shaping itself into a swarm of bats. They charged up and as one, rammed into Despair, biting and clawing with tiny implements as they pushed him into the wall. The shrieking equaled Harkon's roars in Despair's ears and he twisted to remove the small, numerous creatures from his body. Failing, The Dragonborn willed back into his normal body and shrunk down from the Vampire Lord Form, dropping out of the air and into the second-level platform. The bats chased him but he had already called Chain Lightning back into his hands and stood his ground.

'Die!' He swung one of his arms horizontally and cast a bolt of jumping electricity. The light tendril bounced from one to another, piercing through several of the black bats. His second spell followed shortly after, dropping the number of bats down to half of what it had been. A few more shocks and only one was left, flapping wildly away.

'Wuld! Nah! Kest!' Despair shot forward and snatched the little devil out of the air, gripping it tightly when he returned to normal speed. 'Nice try Harkon, but not good enough.' But just as he began to squeeze down the rodent expanded and out shot a cruel, muscular limb – followed by five more. The first hand locked Despair into a stranglehold, curling its talons around his throat.

'I think it's you who just isn't good enough, Dragonborn.' The words sounded as cold as the night and Despair was thrown back to the lower level as Harkon fully regenerated. In the next second the Vampire Lord was back on top of him, slashing viciously with his claws. Volkihar's ruler was about to rip Despair's neck into several pieces, but his prey shifted back into his own Vampire Lord Form and blocked the strike.

With a powerful, echoing grunt Despair outstretched his wings – with enough force to make Harkon stagger – and grabbed his enemy. Despair suddenly shot upwards into the ceiling and – using Harkon as a battering ram – soared through several of the castles solid rock layers. In only a few seconds they burst back out into the open again; this time in the howling, cold winds atop Castle Volkihar. The Dragonborn continued upwards for a few metres and dropped his enemy before dusting himself off. He looked back down to reengage his foe, letting himself lower and stand upon the flat roof.

It was completely flat, no walls or anything at the edges. The night cloaked both of them lovingly.

Harkon kneeled in pain, scratching at the frozen stone surface as he struggled to get back to his feet. His cape had been torn to shreds and was all but gone, revealing to numerous, bloody wounds he had sustained. However, as he pushed himself to his feet and eyed Despair in red his flesh resowed itself and he bore his teeth.

'How arrogant!' Harkon spat. 'How dare you, not even old enough to walk among your dragon-kin with merit, interfere with vampire politics!?' Despair made no comment, only flapping his large, draconic wings to get rid of some snow. 'Have you even considered what you're doing? You're standing in the way of something that would benefit all vampires; you're a traitor to your own kind!'

Now Despair had something to say. 'Am I? You want to kill Serana – another vampire, let alone own blood – just to fulfill some prophecy. Besides, do you think the rest of the world would stand by if vampires turned off the sun? We'd be hunted by everyone, not just the Dawnguard!'

Harkon faltered as the same argument from centuries ago resurfaced; the one his wife had made. 'Y-you…you've met Valerica, haven't you?' A mad smile grew on his face. 'Excellent, after I'm done with you and Serana – I'll drink you dry and find out where she is!'

A feral snarl readjusted Despair's features. 'You will not touch Serana – over my dead body.'

'Gladly.' Harkon muttered under his breath. He lifted off the ground, calling Blood Magic into his clawed hands and hovered. Despair did the same and they began casting Drain Life after another at each other.

The translucent, blood-red orbs would either collide into each other and explode or miss completely, neither hit their target. After several minutes of the same pattern, Despair purposely caused an obscuring explosion close to him, giving him a bit of a smokescreen. He followed up by firing two blasts at his enemy, one behind the other so that from Harkon's point of view it was only one. The Vampire Lord laughed mockingly as he neutralized the first one, only to cringe and fall back as the hidden one crashed directly into his chest. 'Gah!'

Despair chuckled; 'First blood.' He whispered to himself. He was already following up with another barrage of Drain Life shots, but Harkon rolled away and dashed around the area to avoid them. Suddenly the elder vampire dug his claws into the stone and kicked up, hiding himself in a cloud of dust. The Dragonborn slowed himself, preparing for whatever attack may come and stopped hovering with Blood Magic.

Then suddenly the unmistakable roar of a Gargoyle heralded the stone golem as it tore out of Harkon's hiding place, followed by a second. Despair steeled himself for the fight.

Serana.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, or in this case; Oblivion.

As soon as the Paralysis spell had worn off the irate and saddened Volkihar princess had taken Auriel's Bow and raced in behind her love. All she had found in the heart of the castle though was an empty, battle-torn room and a massive hole in the ceiling, leading up into darkness. Immediately she left to race up one of the castles numerous towers, she had to save Despair.

If her mind wasn't such a mess, she could have considered taking the Vampire Lord Form for herself and following the fight directly. Though even that would be questionable; she had no fondness for Molag Bal's legacy.

As she tore through the dark, candle-lit passages of Volkihar though with the golden bow slung over her back an interesting notion juggled in her mind. In all honestly, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to kill Harkon more, or Despair for leaving her behind.

Despair and Harkon.

The Dragonborn opted close-combat, entering a martial-art pose in the face of the charging Gargoyles. The first shot off the ground with its wings at him, narrowly avoided as Despair spun on his heel. He used the momentum of his dodge to grab the passing beast's wing and tear it off in the turn, grounding the creature. He held the sharp, stony appendage up and was about to stab the Gargoyle through the neck, but then the second one caught up and took his attention.

The heavy monster rammed into him, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. Vampire Lord or not, Gargoyles were much bulkier. He rolled over several times before picking himself back up, immediately forced to reengage the creature.

It made a break for him and he easily caught its wrists in both hands. With the barest of effort he smashed them, rendering the Gargoyle's arms to end in stumps. Without missing a beat Despair suddenly flapped his wings heavily forwards, blasting the Gargoyle off its feet. It tumbled stone over stone until it careened off the edge, falling and dying in the waters below.

That's one…

The first Gargoyle charged back and Despair swatted it away with another flapped wing. It didn't go as far, simply crashing and grinding its face into stone chips on the ground. Before it could get back up, Despair bat-swarmed over and punted it, sending it tumbling over the rim after its companion.

Mere fodder… 'Harkon! Don't play games with me!'

Suddenly a wall of black knocked Despair off his feet. He shifted into a swarm of bats again before he hit the ground and recomposed, returning to one being. When Harkon's swarm returned Despair battered the screeching horde with a blast of wind from his wings, scattering them. The menace retreated to a safe enough distance that Harkon could reform into one – snarling menacingly at Despair.

In sync they lifted off the ground and charged at each other – Despair actually gliding in flight and Harkon simply using his levitation Blood Magic to propel him forward. When they collided there was an indecipherable twist of talons and teeth until one of them was suddenly thrown away – crashing into a faraway tower of the castle.

Despair followed in pursuit as Harkon blasted into the side of the ebony structure, splaying his sharp claws as he got close. Suddenly one of Harkon's "wings" shot out and speared through The Dragonborn's abdomen – too fast for Despair to either see or dodge. The dust settled and Despair got a good look at the triumphant, leering face of his enemy – blood beginning to trickle from his lips due to the wound.

'Molag Bal thought himself so clever when he gave me wings that could not fly.' Harkon gloated, raising the other one – a pale, skeletal appendage that ended in a cruel spike – and slicing it across Despair's chest. 'See, not even a dragon can stand against me. Not even-'

A sudden jolt from Despair silenced Harkon. The younger vampire had lunged forward and dug his hand knuckle-deep in the elder's chest. Harkon gasped raggedly as a dim red light started flowing from his wound to Despair – revitalizing the dragon-souled fighter. The Vampire Lord's skin pallour seemed to pale even more than it already was and his skin stretched against the bones within. As Despair leeched off his sire with the well-placed Drain Life, he pushed off the impaling spike and flew back a bit, healing himself and hovering.

'I'm not any ordinary dragon – or did you forget?' Despair continued to pound Harkon with Drain Life, simply floating and shooting each orb after another. When enough had been sucked from the Nordic vampire that all remained was a stretched bag of skin, Despair scoffed and lowered his arm.

'Think again, Dragonborn!' Harkon suddenly shot out and tackled Despair, bringing them back to the flat, rooftop arena. He grinded Despair's head against the ground with the momentum and pressed his claws into the skull. When they slowed, Harkon nailed both arms into the stone with his wings – pinning Despair.

Before the younger's eyes, Harkon's body restored itself effortlessly. Volkihar's lord smiled and proudly said; 'When you are as old as I – or have drunk from as many – you too will be able to use the regeneration factor that comes with this gift.' He twisted the spikes deeper into Despair's arms. 'Sadly for you, that will not happen.' With that Harkon focused his mind and began to draw the raw, vampiric energy from his victim – stealing directly from the Vampire Lord Form.

Feeling the boon slip away, Despair consciously de-transformed and returned to his Breton state. His frame shrunk away and the excess mass disappeared into darkness. Pleased with his efforts, Harkon widened his jaw and prepared to bite down, finishing his enemy.

'Fus! Roh! Dah!'

The Thu'um-fueled roar knocked Harkon back, though his wings kept him pinned down. Volkihar's King reeled and twitched in the wake of the shout, and Despair willed electricity into his palms. He flexed his arms – drawing blood from the impaled wounds – and blasted his enemy with wide, unforgiving shots of lightning. Harkon staggered back further and The Dragonborn took his chance.

'Har-kon!' Despair roared and pushed his arms up, sliding them up the Vampire Lord's wings. With unprecedented strength he twisted his forearms around and crossed over to grab Harkon's appendages, pushing himself to his feet simultaneously. Suddenly he flipped over and twisted the wings back painfully, before giving an almighty grunt and digging his heels into the ground.

Then, he ripped Harkon's wings out of the latter's own back – punctuated by a spray of blood-confetti and screaming.

'Noooooooooooooooooo!' The ancient vampire cried, falling to his knees. Fountains of high-pressure blood spurted endlessly from the stumps below his shoulders, unrelenting as he clawed at them. Despair panted and gave quick yelps of pain as he pulled the dismembered limbs out of each arm – but quickly healed the wounds with Restoration magic and apathetically regarded his enemy.

'Look at you.' Despair scoffed. 'Even with your wings you couldn't fly – even bats can fly.' The Dragonborn circled the felled beast mockingly. 'What will you do now, without them?' He raised his fist. 'Crawl!?' He brought it down with lightning fury, smashing Harkon's face into the stonework. When Harkon weakly reached out with his hand to get away, Despair called Conjuration magic into his hand.

'Bound Scythe.' He lifted the weapon over his head and cut down, cleaving into Harkon's shoulder. 'How amusing, what happened to that regeneration factor?' A single, dragonscale-armoured boot lifted and pressed into the stumps on Harkon's back. 'Grow them back,' He taunted. 'Or are you unable?'

The Vampire Lord's face contorted in rage and for a split second he had his full power again. He exploded into a massive storm of bats, flinging The Dragonborn away and dispelling his scythe. Despair rolled to his feet and prepared as the maelstrom charged him down, diverting them with a potent wall of lightning.

Harkon re-formed, wounds now regenerated – but rather than completely healing there was now thick, ropey scar-tissue where Despair had most recently hurt him, and his wings didn't reform. Perhaps they couldn't, Despair had to watch out for that in the future. He stood proud, but hunched from his pain. With a vengeful sneer Harkon's body shifted and shrunk, returning to a very bearded and very enraged Nord.

It was no longer a fight between vampires – but now the individuals themselves.

Harkon's eyes glowed red with fury and he snarled, taking a heavy step forward. 'Don't think you've won this, dragon. I was far stronger than you can conceive even before I became Molag Bal's scion.' The Blades-esque sword that Despair had noted made a slick, screaming sliver against its sheath as Harkon drew it. 'Even then, I was trained to take down your kind.'

Despair's eyes widened as his enemy adopted a stance familiar to The Dragonborn. Delphine utilized such a posture when she fought – and had tried to impart the deliberate, sweeping sword style that the Blades employed unto Despair. While he hadn't taken to it completely, he knew it well enough to recognize it in others.

Harkon is… He turned to the internal presence. Alduin! Why didn't you tell me?

'Sos Konariik is not one familiar to I. Perhaps he was…Zu'u Tiid, afterwards.' The World-Eater replied. Despair gritted his teeth and acknowledged the threat before him.

'You're…a member of the Blades?' Harkon simply smirked in response and suddenly, tore into a gravel-spitting charge. The Vampire Lord grinned flashily and struck down from above, sidestepped by Despair. A second after the bat-guarded blade was already in motion again, cutting horizontally.

The Dragonborn bat-flitted away, reappearing at a safe distance. When Harkon chased after he stamped mad, losing all finesse that Blades typically exhumed in combat.

'Are you afraid, dragon!?' He mocked as he pierced forward. The stab was ducked under and Despair returned with a flick of electricity, stunning his enemy. With Harkon disabled for the moment, he drew his fists side-by-side and channeled Conjuration magic between them. Smoothly, he pulled them apart – rending a curved, ethereal blade into reality.

'Bound Katana.'

Harkon's eyes glinted with ironic glee when he saw the weapon. He quickly resumed his attack, striking fluidly and precisely. Each blow was deftly parried by Despair, the two skirting around each other as the clashed.

The elder vampire's blows were swift and clean, culminating in a compilation of fast, strung-together arcs. Despair's by comparison, were heavily chaotic – switching unpredictably from rapid, instinctive attacks to slow and powerful swings. Harkon's style consistently consisted of balancing himself with one hand on his belt and the other attacking – using a mix of punching stabs, singing slices and 360 degree turns. Sometimes Despair would use two hands on his sword, switching suddenly to one and then two again.

However, as the fight played out Despair began to realize something. He was defending, and steadily losing.

Thinking quickly, he adjusted his current swing so that it would match right onto Harkon's. The blades locked and crossed and their wielders leaned in, pushing against one another. Despair forced against Harkon and Harkon forced back, both of them digging foot-shaped indents into the ground.

'Give up, dragon! I slew hundreds of your kind before ascending to what I am now, you don't have a chance!' Harkon yelled over the hum of steel meeting Magicka.

Despair retorted, roaring it out. 'Really? Then let's see how good my chances are when I burn you to ashes!'

The Vampire Lord blinked and readied himself – how foolish that his enemy warned him in advance. He heard the sharp intake of air that heralded the ancient roar of dragons and grinned, preparing his body. His feet planted solidly into the brickwork and crossed his arms over defensively, waiting to counterattack. Too many times his enemies had taken advantage of his weakness to flame, dragons being the worst.

But instead of the dreaded Fire Breath Shout, he heard an unfamiliar, knife-sharp utterance.

'Suh! Grah! Dun!' Despair pulled his blade out of the lock he had created and set back to attacking. However, Harkon couldn't keep up even with his own eyes – let alone his blade – and within moments Despair's strikes had rendered him a bloody, string-carved mess. In desperation the Vampire Lord thrust his sword directly at Despair's head, only for The Dragonborn to react by ducking under it and slicing down the length of Harkon's blade – taking a chunk of the swords guard and three of his foe's fingers with it.

A mad grin lit on his mask-hidden face and Despair struck again, sinking his sword into Harkon's opposite shoulder. In the same wounded motion, Harkon staggered and tripped, dropping his blade and gargling helplessly. Despair capitalized and drew his knife – black and curved – and thrust the blade into his enemy's sternum.

'Now, die!' Despair placed both hands on the hilt and let loose a tremendous reserve of Destruction magic, channeling lightning through the small weapon. Harkon's body lit up and seized, shaking violently. Thick tendrils of electricity jumped all around them and the scent of burning flesh began to hang in the air. Through the smoke and blinding flashes, Despair held fast until his Magicka pool ran out.

When the crackling energy-drive stopped, the two fighters stood perfectly still for a few moments before one fell back. Harkon hit the ground limply, his skin shedding off his flesh in streams of ash. The Dragonborn panted for a bit, keeping his arms up around his dagger, and lowered them. He looked down at his fallen enemy for a forlorn moment as she sheathed his weapon and recomposed himself.

'Old fool.' Despair turned on his heel and walked away, pulling his Dragon Priest cloak mockingly around himself. After taking a few steps however, he staggered and grunted in pain. Damn…looks like I didn't get away as cleanly as I wished. His right hand rose to clutch the abdominal wound he'd received, even if he'd healed it with Harkon's own life force it still bled – along with many others that had been endured throughout the fight.

Calmly he lifted his left hand up and started casting Restoration magic over himself, letting the soothing aura wash over him. Still, the wounds would require more specialist attention. Colette would not be happy.

Let alone Serana… He thought idly, bringing a smirk to his lips. Suddenly he froze – now remembering his vampiric other. The Paralysis spell should have worn off by now, so she should be running around the castle looking for him. A wave of joy and guilt washed over him simultaneously – brought from the death of her danger mere seconds ago and his leaving her behind respectively.

No, Serana was not going to be happy at all.

Suddenly the sound of pounding steps and a ripped-throat roar rushed behind him. Dread filled up in Despair as he turned, but all too slow and was struck down. He blocked desperately with his arm, resulting in a deep cut down his bicep, and was sent sprawling. Turning onto his back he looked up, seeing the enemy he thought dead once more.

Harkon's skin had blackened completely – what was left of it at least. Both eyes jutted painfully out of their sockets and his lips had been completely burned off, leaving exposed gums and monstrous sharp teeth for all to see. What was left of his clothing barely counted as rags – if he had nethers left they would've been exposed. With a bare-flesh hand he clutched his sword and rose it up.

'Gaaah!' Despair cried out as Harkon's steel pierced his flesh. The Vampire Lord stabbed through armour, flesh and bone at The Dragonborn's thigh, pinning him to the ground. Harkon twisted the blade in and snarled. Volkihar's lord leaned down and spat in The Dragonborn's face.

'You can't kill me! I'm far beyond your pathetic mortal methods of execution!' He pulled back and opened his maw wide, preparing to sink his teeth into Despair's neck. 'Do stay still; I hate it when my food runs away.'

No!

Suddenly a ray of light broke over the horizon and blinded both of them. Harkon fell away and staggered back, holding his charred arms over his face as he stepped back and away from his prey. Despair heard a strangled gasp emit from the Vampire Lord, but he couldn't see why. Sunlight burned white into the closed lids of his eyes, and then vanished, giving him the chance to see again.

How ironic…saved by the dawn. Slowly The Dragonborn pushed himself to his feet – discovering that he was unable as Harkon's blade had crippled him. He spat in frustration – he had to finish Harkon while he was distracted! He charged lightning into his palm and steadied his aim, but hesitated when something caught his eye. Or rather, the lack thereof.

Sunlight had saved him and blinded Harkon – but upon looking he found that there was no sun at all. It was still pitch-black night. How…?

Then he looked over to Harkon, and his eyes widened in surprise. Sticking starkly out of his chest was a golden, light-emitting arrow, pierced halfway down the shaft. Harkon's own eyes danced madly in his head as he looked for the source, Despair following his line of vision to a figure behind him – holding an ivory bow with white-hot arrow nocked.

'…Serana.' He gazed longingly at her.

Her intense gaze focused cruelly on Harkon, aimed true down the length of the Sunhallowed Arrow. With trembling fingers she slowly curled off the bowstring, letting the second arrow fly loose at its target. It struck Harkon brutally a few inches below the first, making him stagger back three steps. Within the next second a third arrow shot forth and hit him in the stomach, bringing his upright stance down.

Despair watched in silence as Serana brought her father low, Harkon now hunched over weak legs. Three golden spears stuck out of his body, slowly incinerating the already-burned flesh around them. He returned his gaze to Serana – as terrifying and beautiful as ever – and said her name again.

'…Serana…'

She seemed not to hear him, and it was only then he noticed the thin trail of smoke leading from her palms. He frowned inwardly, before recollecting his own negative initial reaction to Auriel's Bow – his vampiric side. Serana was more vampire than he'd ever be, and she didn't wear gloves. Holding the artifact was enough to have it burn her.

'Serana, let go!' He called out, but was again ignored.

Harkon looked up one final time, every muscle in his body strained to the limit. With a long-overdue sense of mortality he stared at his kin, and choked out a breath.

'…Daughter…'

Serana scowled in rage. 'You are not my father.'

Twang.

The bowstring sprang and fired the fourth arrow dead-ahead. A radiant lance of sunlight pierced into and through Harkon's mouth and throat, poking out the back of his neck. His eyes rolled up in his head and with a dead gurgle, he disintegrated into red ash.

Despair watched the Vampire Lord's death with interest, and more than a touch of satisfaction - lying down and propped up on his elbows. He was about to make his attempt at pulling Harkon's sword out of his leg when he was suddenly caught under a dark, trembling shape that fell on top of him. Quickly, he recognized it as Serana and broke into a warm smile, unrecognized due to Morokei. Then the smile fell as he heard her quiet, evocative sobbing.

He pulled her in tightly, embracing the shaking princess with care. Not a word was spoken between them – none had to – as they let themselves bask in the presence of one another. Finally, after an unknown period of time, one of them spoke.

'Don't you ever do that again.' Serana whispered into his ear.

He hugged her tighter. 'I won't. I will always be at your side.'

She nipped at his lobe. 'You fool, we'll be at each other's.'

Sorry for the long wait guys, I've been busy. Very busy. Hopefully the length of the chapter makes up for it. I get that it ends kind of abruptly, but that's just how I'm leaving it.

Making Harkon a long-lost member of the Blades? I did it mostly for funsies, the fact that his sword closely resembles a Blades weapon was pretty cool to me, so I worked it in. Plus it adds a more personal level to the fight that Harkon kills dragons.

As for next chapter, you'll all see. It'll be fun. I will do a Dragonborn DLC Arc, but I'm considering a chapter-long arc between this one and that.

Leave a review or PM, thanks for the support. Au Revoir.