/Hey guys! Partially back after everything life's throwing at me!

Really, really sorry with the slow updates. SAT Practice tests are brain drains and school takes up wholly too much time. To those interested, I'm taking the SAT on 5th October. If any of you are from the U.S. (I've looked at the demographics ;D), and have any tips for this thing, please help me out! If I pull through, at least I won't publish new chapters at two in your mornings anymore!

Enough about me. Here's them!/

Arcturus hiked up the glen alone, a nameless pressure redoubling its weight on his chest with every step. His head cleared the grass at the top of the knoll, his gaze tugged in the same direction as their weightless, but grounded, bodies. He had not the fortune of possessing the latter quality.

The ground seemed to fall away from under his feet as Whiterun came into a distant, abstract view, its featureless stone block walls a valiant attempt at representing the myriad things contained within. Arcturus felt his muscles tense, trying to claw into the grass beneath his feet. But they too were floating, pulled by the wind towards the unfamiliar light atop the familiar city.

Arcturus felt his eyes being consciously drawn up to the light, taking the form of a violet star, a pinprick of intense luminosity that held a sinister, if not terrifying, appeal. But whereas its origin was singular, its monochromic influence spanned leagues. Piercing and indiscriminate, it seized and coloured everything within reach a pale, sickly purple, a colour that was decidedly unnatural to the eye.

Arcturus felt the clenching spread to his hands, closing them into fists with the sound of strained leather. He had thought himself steeled for such a sight, the presence of the star apparent even at the edge of Winterhold; he had thought himself prepared for whatever horrors it might inflict to sunder him, against fire and fury unthinkable for the minds of normal men. But he was wrong. He was wrong just as he had been when he counted on the sun to be at his back, its warmth reminding him of who he was and what he was here to do.

Still, the star shone, taking instead of giving, instilling a damp chill in him that seemed to cow even the sun itself. The weightlessness took hold. He felt alone.

At his side, grass parted for unmuffled footfalls, bringing Serana to his side. On equal footing, she was half a head shorter than him, and he had to look down to meet her eyes. They quivered with forced composure. She was trying to look strong for him, trying to be brave in a world that seemed to steal from them even that.

The bravest I've ever known. He thought. He almost said it aloud, but his throat didn't let him. His hand jumped and sought hers out without permission, but he let it off when their fingers twined, forming a connection he could anchor himself on. It was better. The ground beneath her feet was no steadier than his, but at least he was no longer alone.

They floated together. Her eyes broke first from his to look upon the star in earnest. Arcturus tightened his grip knowingly as an all-too-familiar tremor ran through Serana, starting a minor tremble only he could feel.

"It's curious, isn't it?" He asked, hoping to whatever gods that would listen that his voice could steady her. "A little less sunlight, a bit more colour, and… everything feels so different." His mind wandered, finding itself amongst a sea of gold. Wheat. Gleaming in the sunlight and driven by the soft wind, they stretched on for leagues along Whiterun's southern outskirts, drinking from the branches of the Valtheim and eating off of the rich alluvium on their banks. To him, here, now, it was just beyond the horizon, but he had to wonder if he would ever see it again, if anyone would ever again see it as he did. "Everything feels so-"

"-dead." She finished for him with the very word he tried to avoid. All at once, the grass beneath his feet shriveled and died, the occasional tree up and down the glens between him and Whiterun shedding themselves of leaves. Before long, bleached, barren branches were all that was left of them, and the star on top of Whiterun burned brighter with every death it left in its wake.

"Not the word I would have used," Arcturus murmured, casting a sideways glance at Serana, both to look at her and to avoid the gaze of the star. He snapped at himself as he did. If he could not weather its eye, how did he expect her to, alone?

"Is there any other word for it?" Serana asked, and for the first time he fully heard the tremble in her voice. "Can't you feel it, Arcturus? The tug this place has on your soul, like every nightmarish tale you've heard of my kind feeding on yours? It's only because I spared you the horrors."

"Serana," he began, only to have his lips reduced to silent movements when Serana turned fully towards him and added her other hand to their bond. His eyes were stuck to hers – the gold caught him, but the tears rimming them made him stay.

"I'm scared, Arcturus." She said, her lips moving faster than before. "I thought I'd gotten rid of it with you here, but it's only come on worse than before… It's so cold here."

As if on cue, a bolt of chill lanced through him. The chill of fear, he realised, instead of the bodily cold one expected from snow or wind. It lent him a sense of urgency far before its allotted time.

She feels the cold of the void, child. Nocturnal said in a voice only he could hear, the silken ends of her gown brushing against his wrist. One that has just been made known to you, and to which all souls trapped by mortal treachery can look forward to until the end of time.

His eyes snapped to the star on the horizon, and thought he saw it flare in acknowledgement.

Yes, my child, that is where doomed souls go to dwell. Your vampire lover knows the rest of what I intended to tell.

Why do I feel nothing? Arcturus asked. Nocturnal seemed to fall silent for a few moments.

Let's just say that her Daedric Prince is far less… charitable than yours. Her voice seemed farther than before, but no less amused. The end of her nightgown tickled Arcturus' wrist again, and his mind's eye suddenly visualised his guardian Daedra between him and the star, with loose-sleeved arms raised high to envelop him in her shadow.

Arcturus held onto Serana's limp hand and began to lead her from the top of the glen. I am in your debt.

Yes, Arcturus. Nocturnal answered, turning to stare down at him with eyes of pure black. Heavily so.

The base of the glen was darker, the swell of it shielding them from all light save for that overshooting them. Lynette pulled against her post as she heard them return, coaxing the telltale sound of bending wood as she strained the withered tree she was tied to. It caught Serana's attention.

"We should never have come here." She murmured weakly into the distance, expressionless eyes bereft of focus. Arcturus held her at the shoulders, at arms' length, until she finally took notice of him. The emptiness she regarded him with was one reserved for strangers.

"Serana," he said. She blinked once, slowly, but when her lashes parted she was still lost. He fought the urge to squeeze her shoulders and swallowed. "Stay with me, Serana. We can wake from this nightmare soon."

"But we will never truly forget it." Then, and only then, did she look at him, and in her lost, golden eyes he found a cold that stabbed directly into his heart. "The father's sins, the daughter's to bear."

Suddenly he found it very hard to argue with her. "It does not have to be this way. Harkon will answer for his crimes."

"How? Will spilling his blood in Whiterun bring its dead back to life?" She asked, and he felt his grip on her shoulders falter.

The fear in her eyes were melting, but somehow, he felt no relief.

Serana spoke again. This time, her voice was steely, her question rhetorical. "Will slaying him summon back the souls he's already condemned?" Under his hands, Serana's muscles swelled and tensed.

Already condemned? "Serana, what are you talking ab-"

Then it happened. Everything snapped.

She shook free of him.

"For fuck's sake, Arcturus, look around you!" She stepped away from him and backed into the tree Lynette was tied to. She slammed a fist into the trunk from the side, making it quiver in a halo of white ash, as if in example. "They're all dead!"

Her last words sunk in all too easily. He let his outstretched arms fall to their sides, where they gave up trying to ball into fists. Why didn't you tell me?

Would you have believed me? Nocturnal answered.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You know exactly what I mean! Surely you don't think all this fancy purple light is just for show, do you? A cheap parlor trick to make the great Dragonborn, as I'm sure he's aware by now, shake in his boots?" She said, eyes ablaze with an inferno that burned brightly but quickly.

"I wouldn't put it past him." Arcturus answered.

Serana's expression darkened. "My father doesn't share your preference for childish humour. Gods, I can't believe I'm explaining this to you when you refuse to acknowledge anything that does not help your case."

The words hurt. Coming from her, they hurt even more. "When did this become about me?" He demanded, losing his cool faster than ever before. A likeminded anger sprang into his eyes, meeting Serana's, matching, but not quite mirroring.

"When has it not been about you? When was my decision to take me to the Dawnguard? When was it my decision to have you infected by a stray cut from Sylla?"

"You could have-" He began, but Serana immediately cut him off with a pair of raised hands, shoving the air in protest. Afterwards, they went to her eyebrows and balled into fists, pushing into her skull until he thought they might just sink in.

Silence, Arcturus… Nocturnal whispered with an almost plain undercurrent of amusement. Let her speak. You will have your turn soon enough.

"What, let you die?" Her eyes glazed over with tears, but one hard blink and they were melted away. "That's not a decision I could never make, Arcturus. It's not even a choice." She paused, her hands sorely tempted to wipe the moisture from the edges of her eyes. For a moment, he was also sorely tempted to do it for her, but the return of her voice discouraged him.

"Don't interrupt." A pause as she stumbled for words. "It wasn't my decision to go to Riften. I wouldn't have, because I knew what I was capable of around normal people. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten drunk… wouldn't have let you carry me to bed… I wouldn't have listened in on you two."

Arcturus' heart clenched, sending emotion running from the swell in his chest to the very tips of his fingers. The air no longer seemed as cold, the grass beneath his feet less dead, and the veil of purple light less important as he focused on the colour of Serana's eyes, flickering but brilliant. The tears came again, but she did not blink them away. Blinking was her armour.

"And that was the end." She paused and swallowed, as if it would keep her voice from breaking. "Everything after that was just… slow burning. You ate at me until I had nothing left, and it was only then that I realised I'd already fallen so far."

Then she straightened, and she looked him right in the eye. The veil of moisture over her eyes shimmered, but her gaze did not waver where those of other, ordinary women would have been cowed. Where other women cowed, bowed their heads and waited for the pleasures of their men, she held neither fear nor shame in her moment.

She is no ordinary woman. Arcturus thought, half in wonder, the other stunned into silence.

"But now, when I see all this, I…" She looked away again, tentative steps taking her a foot from anything but the ground beneath her feet. "Perhaps it was best that…" She looked back at him, unable to leave him, and by then the resolve in her eyes had melted to a plead for understanding. "I just wish that… it hadn't been you who found me. Then at least it wouldn't be Whiterun."

Her last words barely registered to him, drowned out by the sound of rushing wind and bestirred grass as he went to her. His hood was thrown back, his mask thrown, forgotten, into the grass. He crashed into her in a full, needy embrace, knocking whatever wind she had left in her lungs out of her and pressing her head into a shoulder. He hadn't been fast enough to stop her words, but he hoped he still had time to change her mind.

"Serana," he said. The cracked pitch of his voice betrayed just how much had been going on behind his mask, something that surprised even himself. "No." No, no, no. Please, no. He found himself incapable of voicing his thoughts, so he tightened his hold on her boneless body, hoping the ache that came with every throb of his heart would make itself known to her. His cheeks were lined with moisture, slipping through the cracks in the armour that was no longer there. There were no more jokes or half-truths to hide behind. "I need you."

"To kill off everyone you've ever cared about, bring your home to ruin?"

"No." They weren't your responsibility. "There's one you haven't taken yet. The most important one." He blinked. A fresh line of hot tears streaked his face and fell into her hair. "Don't take her away."

"If only I could be so cruel… Perhaps then I'd be strong enough for you."

"You don't have to be." Serana looked up, into eyes that tried to hold her steady even when he himself floundered. "You're not alone anymore."

"I know." She said. Up close, her lips trembled, fraught with emotions calling to his own. "It takes some getting used to."

"Tell me how I can help." He said, heartache colouring his words. It was a good heartache now, of longing, not loss. Her eyes had accepted him once again.

Serana blinked. Once. Underneath them, her lips still trembled. He decided to start there. One arm around her waist came away, no longer afraid of her running away, and passed through the narrow gap between their bodies. It reached up, tentatively, in askance, in exclusion to the dying world all around them.

Serana blinked, long lashes bidding her assent.

Arcturus laid a thumb on her lower lip and tugged ever so gently. Air escaped between her teeth in a little sigh, and that was where he kissed her. Their lips melded instantly, mapping shapes and matching movements through a natural grace indistinguishable from experience. Her eyes drifted shut, and he let his close. The connection at their mouths was the only sensation they cared about.

Serana had been right – theirs was a slow burning. But it was one that grew. They eventually parted – he to gasp for breath, her to savour the taste of him on her lips. They remained there for a few moments, sharing the air they breathed and reading the lust from each other's eyes. Emboldened, Arcturus licked at her lips. It was to tempt her, and when next their mouths met, hers opened wider to take him inside. There, they danced to a rhythm of their own making, feeling for intimate secrets. He found the muffled giggle she held back only for when he explored the roof of her mouth. She found the gentleness when their tongues touched, where he would let hers slide over his without resistance.

Not much of a secret. He thought.

That was why, when they parted again, he made it a point to capture her retreating appendage with his mouth, bestowing upon it a delicious, suckling motion that had her squealing until he left the tip of her tongue a sharp, sensitive point. Arcturus worked his jaw, feeling her imprint in him, on him, wanting it to linger as long as it could.

"I liked that." Serana said afterwards, somewhat sheepishly. "No one's ever done that to me before." She smiled at him, the motion itself wan and shy, but he felt the heartache finally recede nonetheless.

"It's just as well. How many people have you ever kissed?" He asked rhetorically.

"Few enough," she conceded. "But they were suitors. They knew what they were doing."

"Aye, but do they know what they are capable of doing?" He cocked an eyebrow, reaching down to rub circles in her palms. "There's a lot more where that came from."

"Oh, I don't think I could handle any more." Serana murmured, though her voice suggested anything but. Arcturus shot her a smouldering look.

"Your body language betrays you, milady." Without warning, he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close enough to breathe in her scent from her hair. "This close, I can feel everything you want to do to me, and even more the other way round." At the swell of her chest, he added more. "You want me. You want me to take you right here, right now, in sight of your father's little peeping tom. You want me to rip apart this fancy outfit I've made to hug your every curve, so I could do to you the things your suitors never could."

Serana made his case by pressing herself into him even more. Arcturus smiled.

"No more fear." He said.

"No more." She said.

"No more guilt."

"No more!"

"Good," he whispered into her ear. She shivered.

Then he let her go. The groans of disappointment came almost immediately. "Arcturus it wasn't funny back then, it isn't funny now!" Serana exclaimed. But she was too late. He was already fumbling for his mask in the grass.

"Do you think this is, in any way, fun for me? Put yourself in my pig nature this very moment - what do I want more than anything?" He said, the seriousness in his voice put to mockery by the grin plastered on his face.

"Me?" She supplied.

"Your wisdom knows no bounds. Now, I have to get through your father's vampire goons, whatever funny concoctions he has waiting in that light show of his, and finally the patriarchal figure himself, just to finally get what I want. Imagine my desperation."

"So you're not off to save everyone this time?"

I am. But she must not know. "No." Arcturus said, donning his mask once again. Fang went on his back, his Nightingale blade to his hip, and Lynette securely to the tree trunk. Not this time. It might be a one way trip. "This is an act of intense frustration."

Serana kept astride as he hiked up the glen once more. This time, he was no longer alone. "You're not alone anymore." She said.

"You know, that sounds vaguely familiar…" He retorted. It earned him a slap on the shoulder. Then, the hand that hit him slid down to twine fingers with his, and they walked together into the light on the horizon, no longer alone.