The Heir to the Seat of Sundered Kings

by Sdhfs

Following his victory over the world eater Alduin, the Dovahkiin turn's his prodigal power towards the looming Aldmeri threat. Knowing the world after long period's of unity tends to divide, the Dragonborn moves to reforge the shattered pieces.

21. The Great Blood Death

Hello; this chapter ends dawnguard, and is probably not entirely spell checked due to lurker's busting my chops to get it done, anyway I hope you all enjoy it, a review wouldn't go a miss you know :-/

Oh and btwm anyone know where to get good art for Skyrim/Elder Scrolls ?

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Murky and frost ridden; ceaseless in its coursing fire, the skyline was set aflame by a thundering strike of silver fury, cutting through the dense fog and illuminating the exterior of the fallen fort erratically.

It had started - and permitted through all the festivities of the innards of the fort itself, with all its dancing redguards, quiet and smiling dunmeri, and singing and balling nords, a collection of ease and joy fit for any victor's respite.

Not that this place – just north of darkfall cave was the field of victory; for there had been no bloody battle fought here, yet for all intensive purposes it would have been the first place saved if not for their drastic – heroic – and bloody actions within the hidden vale.

It had began as a hasty fight and flight, like the struggle towards her mother and the blood scroll, Reynald at the forefront while an enormous dragon shuddered everything in front of them, falmer and their creatures; splitting their weapons and frenzying them with its beguiling thu'um.

The numbers of the falmer numbered massed around them meant little; they would get clear if the ancient beast provided its protection.

It had changed in a moment however, when they happened across pieces of warfare none could mistake; great arsenals of black fettered arrows and thick curving blades, with great trunks of wood chopped and fixed with handles, troves of armour and creature pens stretching out towards the end of the blanketed vale and the limits of their vision.

Weapons of war rather than raiding, long staves for standing up in sustained battle and innumerable shields; bows and thick motley armour, with thick oak's and coiled ashen wood for use as rams and ladders.

So near an unguarded approach to Skyrim? – It was not difficult to determine what it all amounted too.

Not for her; not for the redguard or dunmeri cursing around her, not for Reynald who had been affixed at the front with a grim look upon his usually stoic features, it had only been another few moments before he called to his great companion in that guttural – reverberating voice of his.

She couldn't follow the booming words in the lost language; couldn't determine what made the dragon snarl and toss his wings, couldn't determine what Reynald thundered thrice to it in response.

All she could see was that it was not good for those falmer pouring out from caves around to encircle them; pouring arrows into their huddled their ranks, as that one terrible cry of the beast was joined by a faint other – and another from that – and yet another from that until it sounded like nirn would rupture and fall in upon itself.

Then they came in dozens – a hundred perhaps, roaring and savage across the stark vale, sweeping around them in arcing twists that near dispersed all the howling wind and snow, until they couldn't see the people around them in a flurry of snow and ice.

Then came all the flame and ice that had lashed across the heavens and into their private depth of oblivion even as it looked so peaceful and serene to its nature.

Reynald's thu'um had struck once again and the world was turned to blood and gore because of it; every winged ancient beast in their immense power and savagery swooping low to engulf the massed falmer in explosions of flame and gulfs of ice, some slammed to the snow and ice beneath with enough force to shake her being to the core, while Reynald ordered them forward with his blade hanging high.

It wasn't a fight and flight no longer; not a retreating action or guileful tactic, for the dragonborn of long renown had just ordered the extermination of this depraved elvin army, root and tip.

She wondered if his heart twisted underneath his steeled expression, or whether he was glad to put them to their end as the falmer fell in their scores.

Whether it was vengeance or pity the result of the fight was no different; and every man and mer gave no quarter as they knew the same would be theirs, the dragons to the last thought not a second about quarter, it seemed oblivious to them.

Their battle was set across the entirety of the vale; passing through all its beauty with blood gushing across the felt ice behind, a sea of red through the high silver shores, potch marked with dozens upon dozens of smoking and cold tipped corpses.

This wasn't simply the stretch of valley they inhabited but the hillocks and sweeping mountain passes leagues ahead, and when the dragons had finished scouring the materials they all roared off ahead to complete the falmers destruction, it made gathering the necessary ingredients for access Auriel's great place of worship, bodies littered the entire distance of their march.

It didn't take more than two watches to traverse the entirety of the valley but more than the night could offer; the whole time filled with the terrible screams of the dragons as they went out silencing the falmer, their roars pummelling the sky and cracking the ground for all the terrible din, but their own blades were not left dry and near on three centuries as Serana counted had fell as they ascended the many mounts and traversed the cave paths.

Sitting amongst the revelling warriors she felt stupid and out of place; she was a vampire after all, stuck in a noisy room filled back to front with normal men and mer, as cloistered in yet as any yet as far from them as she could ever be, the big redguard beside her ignored her as he turned to shout at another man across the room wedged in one of the few available dining chairs, and she knew he was only non repulsed by her because he was drunk on victory and life – she had seen the look in all their eyes as she'd morphed against Vyrthur, something she couldn't avoid.

It had been him who'd started the prochecy; stolen her life and ruined her family, turned how many hundreds or thousands of falmer to his will in order to bring a storm down upon an unsuspecting Skyrim and beyond.

Her skin had grown pasty and undead as he told her off his plans, her teeth went to an unquenchable maw as he howled at her father's stupidity, all her hate and anger had bore her disgusting form forward tearing into limb and body without a single thought of respite or mercy.

She could still feel the chunks of flesh and narrow beneath her fingers long after she'd washed her hands clean, seen all the bodies of their massacre strewn in her dreams as they'd departed and rested, how could she be a daughter of cold harbour if all this weakness had consumed her.

It was Reynald she knew, Milisi and all that respect shown by every passing mer, the redguard who sat beside her but apart, she didn't feel she was part of the celebrations even if it was her who'd slain the arch-curate Vyrthur, You'd not have gotten close without Reynald or these 'mere' mortals she knew though, hadn't even tried to deny it.

It had been Reynald who had gathered the dragons; who'd gathered all the greatest warriors of lands far away for her never to have even glimpsed, he'd been the one who'd blown away all the crushing slabs of the chantry as the curate had attempted to swat them beneath his power.

What did you do daughter? Slay a broken elf half mad and beaten Her father's voice mocked her, sending her out into the grumbling night and away from all the happiness, she suddenly felt very upset – angry but at what she couldn't even tell.

At first it had been the arch-curate, who she despised so much she couldn't help but feel justification in telling Gelebor it had been him and not the falmer who had perverted the vale, but that had fallen at the wayside, against thoughts of her father being so foolish – that Reynald had stolen a part of her victory from her, it had been him who gelebor had given the bow to after all.

Perhaps it was something simpler than that; something she didn't want to admit, that all the ones who'd fought with her – died with her were celebrating, acting as friends between the nords who owned the fort and the redguard and dunmer alike who'd gained shelter with Reynald, she wasn't not invited to the festivities, she was simply a vampire.

All the power of draining a soul; enveloping yourself in a husk of fear and fangs, it all meant nothing when you didn't want power or death, Reynald held the ability for both but when she got outside the heavy gate of the forts fortified hearth she found him in the company of many men and some mer.

One of the chief nords sons – Halrf she thought was his name; near keeled over when Reynald presented him with an elvish snow blade he'd been given by knight paladin Gelebor, an item that would fetch thousands of credits in the hands of a collector of rare antiquities, the man was so genial people naturally flowed towards him, her…well even people who'd she'd been in battle with paid her as little attention as possible.

She didn't notice Milisi approach her as she got away from the press of those outside; Serana was too far in her own thoughts, "Not in the moment for having a libation lady Serana?" the dunmeri chieftain asked; beneath a shallow pitch black cowl that helped against the bawling winds, Serana couldn't help but focus on her bloody gaze "I – ah…wanted to get some air" she lied flatly, always put at unease by the incessant insistence of the mer "I'm not used to big gatherings." That was yet another lie; she'd spent years at her father's table at huge gatherings of vampires and cattle, she'd at least been somewhat comfortable there.

"Perhaps it's all those redguards off-putting you?" Milisi asked with a small smile, "they are rowdy when the achieve victory, or even when they don't" she laughed at her own playful jibe, voice having a singsong quality to it, "Don't worry about it however; I think our dragon warrior is equally at edge" the dunmeri inclined her head and passed her, leaving her unshielded against the wind, Reynald was still some ways ahead in one of the tents erected behind the palisades of the nordic camp.

Serana saw her chance as the nords veered off for the fortification itself; slipping past them in the darkness of the small gardens they'd pitted, a few dunmeri likewise retreated before she went to the mostly barren open tent, serving as a rough planning area rather than anywhere for them to room in, Reynald turned as soon as he heard her purposely scrape her boot against the dirt.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people" he said without a slight hint or anger, more irritation if anything, "afraid of assassins?" she asked in response to which he snorted, "If an assassin marched about banging his feet everywhere he'd not do much damage, you sound more like a drifting cow hoofing about. My father always told me never to drag my boots" Inside the room was a few loose chairs, a decrepit store serving as a rough table, wine and mead littered about in the fashion of most nordic tables, Reynald went to pour a mug of ale but then settled for having it from the bottle.

"Thirsty are we?" she asked to his hasty decision, but he replied after near choking down the entire thing "You're right I am, I've spent half the day talking to the Spaldir's; Carslrung's and Carrae's entire clans, not to mention having words with Milisi and Lathar, worrying about how many men we'll have at the assault date. I've been like a man surrounded by sea water." He looked as ragged as he described, with dark lined eyes and a rough cheek bones, that entire person who'd led them determinately through the roving battle.

"What about you?" he asked her after she wondered on his state of mind for a moment, "I'm fine…vampires don't have the luxury of getting merry" he looked at her near astounded, "You can't get drunk – can't fall over and make an arse of yourself? What's the bloody point in that?" what is the bloody point was a good question "So what do you do for fun…actually don't tell me I'd rather not know. I have a better question in fact" She saw a flicker – the slightest hint of hesitation in his eyes, "Are you ready for this; for all the blood and gore that's going to come? It'll be your fathers we'll be spilling this time, no elusive snow elf hidden in an ice fortress." Serana was as quite to answer as he had asked; a slight rush of words after a small hesitation.

"Yes; Harkin has to die, it always was going to come to this, me or him" was her answer, resolute and unyielding, her father had stopped being her father thousands of years ago, but it still meant something that he'd cared to ask, "I've seen too much of this new Skyrim not to want to save it, my type are all murderers and savages" but not me? She always wanted to add, suddenly thinking she'd prefer it if Reynald – or anything said it for her.

He smiled first handing her one of the brown tinted bottles, before his voice became mellow "I can't disagree, your father has already cost hundreds in lives and all sorts of madness, the people of Dawnstar will take years to get over their terror" Serana felt the guilt wash over her, "But evil men will always do good people injustice; and vampires while more akin to slaughter are not the purest examples of it" She took a heady gulp of the frosty beverage, relishing its fruity taste after a few days of dull water, Reynald stared at her fully for a moment, at a loss it seemed before he spoke again.

"Have you ever thought about being cured of your vampirisim?" he asked awkwardly almost; no strike to his voice as the norm "I realise I just said you're not all a bad sort; but you're not even the good sort if you follow" she didn't follow, but he spoke quickly as to give her no respite "I've met the sort who act in normality yet are the most power hungry and conniving sorts that a Daggerfall lord would be ashamed off…yet you're…well you're just you. No wild dreams of power or conquest, no smiting mortals for their insolence, not once have I seen you bear those pointy fangs of yours towards as much as a hammer headed nord. I suppose what I'm trying to say is…why are you a vampire?"

If he'd asked her when they met; or perhaps even when they only ran across Skyrim once she would have dismissed him as foolish, all the ideas of power and long life came easy in those days, but now it seemed for every year she was granted she'd spend a thousand individual moments alone, for every ounce of life she sapped she could remember how many she'd saved.

It was all great and fine to be some undead lord when you wanted unlimited power and hordes of thralls at your command…but what happened when you just wanted to have happiness or a family?

She couldn't answer; not honestly, not to a mortal, not when she sat in the camp of those marching forward to decimate her father's ranks – kill the horror himself, instead she threw up all the ice she could "I'm a daughter of cold harbour – not some common blood sucker, I'm a vampire because I was chosen by Molag Bol." She was angry and confused all at once, confused as to why she was angry and vice versa, all of the pain and sacrifice had to have been for something.

"Molag Bol is the prince of rape – a bloody brutal daedric lord even amongst that malevolent lot. You're trying to tell me you're happy to be associated with that?" Serana let the anger flow from her mouth before she could help herself "You're really someone to talk about daedric lords aren't you, a big lord running around laying waste to hundreds in pursuit of some peace – and for what? Just to start another bloody war!" She didn't know if it was the looks passed off to her in the fort, or Reynald's usual wily gait that annoyed her, but she was near furious "I'm a vampire; what of it? I just want to live my life; at least I won't take hundreds and thousands with me to do it."

Reynald smiled that small smile of his; slightly crooked but with almost no teeth, "Take some ale" he offered her one of the bottles which she accepted, not drinking at first, he always looked that way of inscrutable way of wiliness when he was insulted, attempting to appear non-fussed.

"I didn't mean to insult you Serana, but I did mean what I said, you're not the sort of girl who associates herself with daedric princes" Serana wasn't willing to explain it, not all of what her very existence came to in the middle of the night before she was going to attack her own home, "I'm not talking about this…not now…not while the fate of all this hangs in the balance. I'm going to rest, I'll see you in the morning" With that she left, not looking back through the streaking wind and snow but instead making for the light encampment they'd set up and getting inside her allotted tent.

Small and cramped against a multitude of other equally well pitched; boring and slightly odorous havens from the stiff breeze, inside was no light save that she cast herself and a scamp of fur bedding lain with goat wool on its innards, it was uncomfortable, though still welcome given the long days they'd experienced.

She'd thought her mind would drift to Reynald; to Harkon or the war, but rather inexplicably – madly she dozed off without a thought to her mind, no great bluster of brimming fire and pain associated with Molag Bol and his will, no thoughts of her mother or father or Reynald himself.

The following day she woke up to the gentle insistence of a passing dunmeri; horses and men could be heard directly outside her own tent, feeling rested yet unsteady Serana quickly exited the tent without so much as an attempt to unwrinkle her well worn travellers garb.

None of the rest looked to have washed or mended themselves from the gathering last night, several of the nearby redguards bemoaned the effects of the night as they slung their packs and gripped their weapons.

Reynald as per the norm was in Milisi's company; both of them armed and armoured in the lighter quilts held with metal pins rather than the magnificent armour set they wore across set battlefields, the contrast between the ranks of her assembled dunmeri was stark, fragrant and vibrant looking against the under the cuff redguards.

While she readied her pack against her temporary home Reynald was visited by the threes heads of the nord families who'd inhabited the defiled orc fortress, three men of the usual sort followed by broad chinned boys and wide hipped girls as children.

All of them fawned over Reynald like courtesans and suitors, offering gifts of food and fine as was all they had seemingly, taking it with a gracious smile he had it all loaded in packs as they prepared to move out into the clear day above them, Serana again avoided the families and awaited the order to march.

It came as Reynald finished his parting; him in behind with Milisi and her dunmer in their navy cloaks and slung spears, Serana at the middle with all the redguard's and their gleaming weapons and long bows hidden with cloth behind the leading Lathar Mathis.

As it had often been in those misty and deserted parts; the march was tedious and boring, with not a bit of game or trouble even to be found along the road to where her father's castle lay, she spoke barely a word to any around her and didn't turn behind as they made an entire day of slipping through brambles and overrun roadways, across the narrow passes and wide hillocks that dotted the northwestern part of Skyrim's terrain.

All through the day Serana fussed over why she'd gotten so annoyed with Reynald, when she knew what his views were, it was like getting annoyed at a vampire for liking the taste of blood; fruitless and detrimental for all it was worth.

With that in mind she made to apologise; or at least talk to the man as they settled down in the husk of an abandoned watch tower guarding the north western path to Haafingar, surprised she found him asleep already in his tent as the night only began to break in.

That meant for another night she was listless and upset; if still peaceful in her sleep, as much as someone who's waking hours consumed by the bane of the undead could be.

She thought about her father; dismissed the grief of acting against him over again for a thousand times, about all the people he'd harmed her own family included, just to get the anger rising where the guilt had first been held, in the end she'd settled to a miserable sleep which lasted only until the break of sunlight through the half shorn tower.

She woke up to find near everything resembling heavier gear and garb packed away; armour shown and weapons gleamed in the sun as Reynald at the husk of a smaller tower informed them in all that they were only half a day from where they would make their attempt at her father's castle, Serana herself could have swore they would need at least until the darkness to reach the icewater jetty.

She'd rather get on with it all things considered, as would all those around her by the way the redguards grumbled and the dunmeri sighed, it was hard to forget that in all of this these elite –expert warriors were really just mercenaries in this situation.

Getting on with things as they did; Serana managed to wind her way up to the forefront of the marching party, in beside Reynald who led them through the sea of frosted forest that inhabited the north most region of Skyrim, a veritable haven, all rough country that had not suffered any inhabitation in what looked to be hundreds of years.

"Still angry?" he asked as they got through a patch of thickets; past the myriad of mountain peaks to be found at Skyrim's north west corner – a sort of natural protection against the Direnni she'd always supposed, much like the rest of Skyrim's high rising borders, "I've decided to forgive you" she quietly told him, careful of the men following close behind, Reynald smiled as she did.

"You're a fair and generous lady" he told her just as they cleared the worst of the rough greenery – or rather whiteness, leading them into three rising hillocks that seemed to lead into a full on drop, "I was actually worried you might be holding it against me; given what we're about to do" she snorted at that, would have crossed her arms defensively in jest if they weren't moving, "destroy my home and killing my father you mean?" the smile actually left his face for once, it took her a moment to realise how just morbid that sounded.

As they made for the first uprising hill Serana grabbed Reynald's hand under her own cloak; careful that it looked like nothing to those behind, looking at her in surprise he was the only one close enough to hear her speak.

"Look – I know I've been unbearable at times; I know how much it's taken out of you to oppose my father" she actually squeezed his hand, lightly and awkwardly, surprised at herself yet revelling slightly in how hot his hand was, it was the first person she'd touched in years – thousands by actual count, "I just want you to know I don't – or won't hold it against you"

Reynald didn't pull his hand away – mercifully, she'd been afraid he would take it the wrong way, perhaps prove his sentiments on her people after all, but he didn't even waver one finger "You're on the road to killing your father; burning down your family home and slaughtering whatever semblance of a family you have. I doubt anyone would be in a good spirits."

They reached the first high point, ascending up through the ankle high snow to where Serana could clearly make out her not so far home in the sea of ghosts, weak and isolated against the memory of the looming dread fort she'd remembered, there was no more all consuming chill of fear she had felt on her last walk up the sprawling bridge way that led to the barbican, she didn't feel even a fingers worth now.

It was down to Reynald and his followers; Milisi and Lathar who were mortal men and mer and had fought and bloodied as well as any vampire, yet they had all fought for their own desires, not disgusting longings – that of protection of their own people or merely wishing to return to their homes.

The great lord Harkon fought only for power and death; and she was just a poor impersonation of whatever a vampire lord was truly meant to be, Reynald ushered her on towards his short cut, she had already decided her fate even before Harkon fell.

With determination and on Reynald's insistence she moved at as quick a path as the uneven and pitted terrain would allow, across the rises and mounts until finally they came to the sea front, lying below her at a cliff side just steep enough to be fatal if attempted wrong, Reynald leapt down first to the very precipice and looked to get ready to jump off the thing without ceremony, Serana noted that before her was the icewater jetty just ahead of the fall ground.

She could have called him crazy for it; only that she remembered that he could in fact levitate saved her from that same condescending smirk of his, many of the redguards were unhappy with the idea of simply tossing themselves over the edge and hoping for the best, graciously - irritably it seemed though that the dunmeri could ferry them all down.

It meant that in no time at all they were landing softly on the low lands of Skyrim's coastline, no worse for wear and with much better feet than they would have had for the long march around the long pathway to the jetty, "It's been four days since we made for the valley, my brothers must be here already" Lathar told them, halberd in hand as he marched up to the now ruined outpost, silence reined on the walls and behind them seemingly, "Keep your guard up!" Reynald shouted to Lathar's escaping figure.

He minded that not a little in his mind, marching forward ready to spear as he always looked to her, the rest of the redguards followed as did the cabal of dunmer, all they could hear was the squelch of snow under their boots – a weapon being bared here or there.

It was quiet until there was a glint of steel near the gateway and Lathar sprung to strike; his weapon being diverted at the last second to strike the wall rather than the robed figure who had appeared with a wicked looking flail in hand, "Aye Saiid you fool! I could have cut you in halves" Lathar swore to the man obviously familiar to him, some ways shorter and narrower to be like that of a regular man, "Apologies big brother! But we'd been driven into the bowels of this bloody crypt, we've only been managing to come up in the daytime when only these scum's minions are flying about." Serana heard the go between, deducted in a moment that the minions were the filthy gargoyle creatures that her father had bred, "How many have we lost then?" Lathar asked unhappily, "seven dead and three times as many wounded; we've been fighting nonstop for two days, if you had not came by they would have surely broken through."

They were indeed it looked like, as inside the barren fort there was little remains to be found of the gargoyles themselves; yet the doorways that had been barred and fitted with locks where near rendered from their hinges, blood was pooled about to suggest much bleeding of the injured, broken blades and arrow shafts littered the inner courtyard of the isolated fort.

"These creatures must have swarmed you to leave all the gore inside this place" Milisi noted with disapproval, perhaps she'd thought these redguard would be enough for the swarms, "let's see that happen tonight with Lathar around" the man replied confidently ignoring her, a smile on his face for the first time in perhaps days, he ushered all those on the insides of the fort to come up and greet the new arrivals and there would be saviours, in all they looked beleaguered and battle worn – though not beaten or broken as yet.

All of them thought it would be as good as idea as any to bolt up the doors; await the onset of a night battle and plan whatever method of defence appealed to the sensibilities of an angered Lathar, that was until the sounding of horns could be heard afar.

A man went upon the walls to find the disturbance and leapt in joy, "Banners of the men from Skyrim – the men of your kinship dragonborn no?" he asked Reynald, who without a pause went up and looked upon the advancing numbers, "Ah! Look at what we have behind us; braves, vampires killers and mages, we'll do more than sit back tonight" he was as close to elated as she'd seen him in days, but Serana was shaky, even as she fielded out to look at the numbers oncoming.

So they had come to Reynald's aid, in numbers greater than what the fort held by more than three score, with flags of blazon wolves and snarling bears, gold spun sabre cats and double headed trolls, all of them above men of thick armour and broad blades.

Behind this assembly of nordic braves were some comparatively few; in long cloaks of rich fabrics of every colour and design, in their hands were staves and staffs while above them clanged pendants and bells denoting the sigil of magnus.

They marched across the ice fields slowly; over the bluffs and through the shearing winds, and only until they got within bowshot could Serana make out those at the rear of the company, the sigil of the dawnguard of course.

As Reynald led the way out to greet them; Serana noted that under the banner of the nords was the same woman Reynald had conversed with days ago in the husk of the watchtower, coated in a fur vest that was underlain with a dull thicket of chainmail, she seemed to lead the procession despite being the most diminutive of the lot, "Hail Dragonborn! Our swords are yours!" they chanted on her opening, loud enough to be heard all the way to the soul cairn she thought, "Who is it that hails me harbinger?" Reynald asked in response, not looking half as mighty as the host of nords who led the fierce procession.

At that four great beasts of men stood forward; all of them coated in silver and gold coated plate armour, which across them was riveted with the hides of a bear; great cat; troll and wolf, leaving little to imagine who was who against their relative standards.

Still they announced themselves in all their pomp, the bear leader being Gautr Harn from west of Karthwasten, a man of prodigious strength it appeared who was forced to flee against the tide of forsworn it occurred, greeting Reynald with a fierce snarl of a voice – hidden behind beady white eyes.

The warrior who wore the sabre cat pelt like a fleece was a far younger man; near half the age of the white bristled Harn, Edda Lemba was his name, sharp faced and lethal as the very animals hide he wore; Serana suspected the man could be very cruel with the blade in his black scabbard indeed.

He gave Reynald a graceful bow and salute; before eyeing up the men and mer behind him with suspicion not veiled in the slightest, "I come from the wastes of the pale; south of the old bannard creek, if I had been near Dawnstar then those vampires would not find their game so easy." he allowed those others with him ahead with that assurance.

Respectivly the wolf and troll men were Freyr Freyja and Vanir Olrun, men of eldery age who looked closer to death than life, still both white bearded men held their swords in hand, bringing what looked like the least in concern to the numbers of men, "We will fight as best we can with you; hero of Skyrim" Vanir promised for them both, Reynald accepted with his usual courtesy and had the men brought forward.

Serana was not wrong in her first assumption, as in all the men where fiercely armoured for battle; she saw every sort of weapon from the sickle to the spear held in mail clad fists, while near all men wore thick helms and junctions of plate to make them virtually untouchable against the most savage of attacks, it was strange to think that on this occasion it would be those within castle Volkinar who would be at a disadvantage.

The mages that followed thought the same it seemed; as on arriving their lead – the dunmeri Dralas informing Reynald frankly that they were here to provide support and nothing else, "I've had staffs made that will allow my mages to allow you over the water, to learn restoration spells to ward off these vermin, but you'll be using these nords for the butchers work. We aren't here to destroy these beasts" Content at the numbers; or simply not wishing to waste any more time arguing with the narrow faced dunmer Reynald accepted, allowing the mages to go past and prepare.

It left them facing Isran and his faction of vampire hunters, Skald and Florentius were there in their ranks as she knew them, but the rest were hard faced dunmer and nords, some of the brutal looking pariah folk and a small few lighter skinned men, "A fine collection of warriors you've assembled dragonborn, just about enough to sack this vile keep I'd think" With a growl Isran approached them, shining eyes looking as eager and lusty as Serana had seen him, "I see you've brought trolls" Reynald replied dryly, and so he had, fierce looking beasts armoured in iron, Serana thought they'd get on well with her father's gargoyles.

"I see you're still carrying about this dead wood" Isran remarked to Serana with unmistaken ferocity, she'd be insulted if she didn't despise the savage "Serana's proved her worth in gold Isran, she helped me get the bow and stop the prophecy" Reynald protested but to no avail, "More like proved her worth in innocent blood" his disgust would go on long after his body was dust and bone, she couldn't even fathom how he'd manage without 'the great vampire menace'.

Necessary as he was Reynald led the man forward so that they could get a good look at the castle her father inhabitated, "A great fortress…immune to the arcane and mundane alike. We'll either have to goad them out or start an encirclement" The redguard stated quite obviously Serana thought, Reynald however looked to the words as difficult truths.

"We'll have no success if we attack it outright, and the supporting routes inside are blocked off. It would take us weeks to procure siege weapons; and those walls are thick enough to withstand even my thu'um" Reynald sounded at a loss, but as always he had an idea rattling around in his mind "I don't think Harkon is willing to stay cooped up like a cornered skeever, he'll take it as a slight against his 'majesty'. We'll set up a defence here; then we will send him a challenge. I don't doubt he'll wait past nightfall to attack." Reynald paced off with the dawnguard behind at that, some of which gave her uneasy stares, but Serana was more concerned with the 'wait until night approaches part of their plan'.

Catching up she got in front of the two leaders; irritating Isran as she stalled them, "You can't simply just wait until dark; my father will send out his court and slaughter you in your ranks" she complained to deaf ears it seemed, "We'll need to draw him out, because he won't fight fairly like a good vampire lord" Reynald sardonically told her, "The mages know a little bit about warding off the undead; and the rest know more than a little about slaying anything that comes their way. Don't worry about the plan, just get your mind right" That was a brush off, and she didn't attempt to argue given the man's stubbornness, she did however follow along as they centred inside the small keep to conduct an impromptu council, she was sure many noted that the sun had dipped.

It was short for a war council; and it seemed that none who had came with her wished to do anything save inflict some injury upon the vampires, Lathar near frothing at the mouth at the thought of his dead men, Isran only offered that his men be placed about the ranks to help them all ward off the undead masters of the castle, "I've got a small team who will be useful when we come up against this lord Harkon or his court as she calls it." Isran referring to her as a she rather than it was an improvement, yet she still didn't feel right just allowing her father to ambush them in the dark.

Reynald wouldn't budge; and neither Isran nor Milisi could be likely to give her the time of day, so instead she went into the stockade and onto the walls, looking out over the sea of ghosts and unto the battlements of her home.

There she saw the gate guard come alert as a missile was fired from Lathar's great bow; take up the missive attached and bring it inside to the feasting hall, Reynald; his wispy female companion and Milisi took to the rampart closer to the shore, below the redguards began to fill out and integrate themselves with the nordic warriors and the dawnguard, the mage's set up their baggage in a far corner away from the massing.

Serana could remember times before this era had even been thought to begin; when dying elvin kingdoms and those uprising of men had tried to wrest north-western Haafingar from her father, both sorts sending small forces against a bygone race of creatures, creatures that she'd watched – and helped slaughter in their camps as they slept.

It never had felt right to attack them so dishonourably; sickening to hold the lives of pleading men in her hands, and now here she was awaiting with one such army to be massacred again perhaps, but Reynald didn't look like the type to be slain in his sleep – he looked as strong as the gilded elvin warrior that she'd seen her father reave personally once upon a time, but she knew he was much more than that.

He would be the one if any to bring an end to her father; and just as the night began to fade into the darkness, she knew that any love she held for her father had went just the same.

It was a waiting game; near all of the force secreted in the place while a few of the redguards stayed upon just under the walls as they had done so before, Serana herself waited along with Reynald and Aela, as she learned her name, upon the midsection of the small wooden rampart.

It was all tension and quietness when night fell, Isran and his dawnguard along with the mages retiring with the remainder of the force under the main fortress.

No one spoke; no one moved, a watch passed until Reynald perked up along with his nordic compatriot, neither shared a word but instead lookedtowards castle Volkinar, the shadowed redguards in their quilts and linen saw the movements and grasped their clefted axes and arching swords.

Serana almost asked them what they saw; a moment before she saw something waft over the opposing side of the stone battlements, "Mistwalker" she shouted in alarm, casting a swathe of lighting towards the vampire that would have been right upon Reynald's flank, only scattering and displaced the creature for a moment, but it was enough for Reynald and Aela to pull their weapons free.

They were outnumbered though; more than the first mistwalker appeared and formulated on the battlement walls, with Reynald casting a shielding spell around him and Aela to give them a violet hue across their armour and skin. Serana joined them as they met them across the walls; dragonsword and dual blades added to with her own slashing sword, matching the twisted steel of the vampires and pushing them from the short parapet.

Using blades and their draining life castings worked well for her kin as they were; but Reynald 's incantation meant that it availed them not, Aela the huntress as Reynald introduced her as was as swift as the blades of hers could be; slashing through her opponent wrist – jaw – and heart before Reynald hacked her upwards off the walls.

Serana leapt at her own foe but was met with a retreat; cast into the air and onto the frozen ground surrounding the fort, Serana's heart would have stopped if it wasn't already as she looked out onto the ice.

Her elusive brethren were joined by the worst sorts of all sorts; skeletons in ragged scraps and rusted mail, holding blades of every shape and sort, living men were their too in their loose massing, looking just as haunted in their sunken faces as their undead comrades did.

"Call them out! Light the fires!" Aela clambered down to the redguards, who banged on the gateways to the innards of the small fort, "our enemy has appeared!" they chanted as the gates were open, Reynald blasted the snow and those upon them to give them some leeway as to meet them without a grudge match at the narrow gateway.

Her head whirled from being so near him when he shouted; but the effect was so much so that their own force could bound up the stairs and out onto the snow, Reynald leapt down into the midst of the nords who were first on hand, Serana acted as a sentinel on the walls as the men began to slam their weapons against their hardened shields, baying for blood.

"Fight them to the last! For Skyrim! For the nords!" Reynald shouted in his imperious voice, more a general than man now, around him the nords howled in frenzy and threw themselves forward in a surge of bloodlust. Serana could only make them out by the gleam of their polished arms and armour, all of it smashing through the vampires and their horrible unranked horde.

The mages came up onto the ramparts of the fortification and began casting illumination around the battlefield; lighting up the carnage of the nords as they hacked their way through the muddled ranks before them, Reynald at the head was irresistible with his dragonblade hacking through the flailing zombies, she heard Isran snarl to her side as he saw the fight unfold, "Galmar; get the repeaters."

Milisi got up to the walls along with Lathar; redguards and dunmeri filing out into the fort itself behind them, "Where did all these vermin come from?" Lathar demanded in his typical harsh tones, Milisi surveyed a moment longer before asking the same thing, Serana was clueless.

"I don't know, maybe they were waiting here for an attack?" she put it out there while the battle spread out, with more dark shades of what were once men came filing into the sphere of the mage castings, their numbers it seemed coming from the darkness were not limited to even a half of those that the nords had already slain, "This lot are a bunch of corpses. No one would fight against an army of men with these" Lathar told them suspiciously, and he had a point, the men in the field had ran through the force in front of them so far, now strung out and having near pushed them off the field.

It left them far out towards the coastline and away from the fort; enough to worry Milisi who began to order them back, afraid that they would fall afoul of a trap inside the darkness, Reynald was too far afield to be seen, the nords were busy snarling and hollering to be called back, Serana looked outside into the nightshade in worry, until a shrill screech reverberated through the sky.

Not so piercing as to render her or those around her useless, it was enough so make many dunmeri hold their ears against the assault, Serana could have slapped herself for being so stupid; of course it was a diversion, one bloody enough to allow the nords to become strung out.

"Gargoyles" she shouted to those around her as the shades in the night sky came to them; blotting out the moons almost in such a great number as to make her break out in a fearful sweat, Lathar only snarled to the sky with his blade ready to be plunged forward.

The fortification almost shattered as it was attacked; by gargoyles large enough to stand level with the man imposing himself between them and her, several of the blood eyed, black scaled, golden clawed beasts leapt directly into the ranks of the men and mer alike, many were able to tear into flesh and bone before they could be slain or driven off.

The nords could have turned then and helped fight off the new menace she thought; casting dispersion magics into the night sky, only for the gargoyles to thump into the ground across the field and take the warriors on in only clumps, these beasts fought fiercer than any rattan boned skeletons or drained thralls, Serana held her blade close as she saw men and mer around her torn to shreds.

Lathar and Milisi were close however; Lathar not so wild as to depart the battlements when there was enough fare around, Milisi went to and fro in her stark white armour casting spells of every hue and effect that Serana believed she could ever have seen, nords behind still attempted to press back across the field but were seen to be pitched down by an incessant landing of gargoyles too many to number in the haze of battle, her father had been horrifically busy.

A huge beast; easily the head of Lathar and above landed atop the battlements and near decapitated her with its snaking wing, she was only saved herself by Isran firing some weapon into the beasts back, it rap-rap-rap-rapping sound near silenced by its howl.

She was astounded, so much so that the beast was able to catch her on its downward swipe, throwing herself sidewards and rolling away from the following flurry she managed only to have her arm dug into deeply, magicka availed her not as a burst of lighting sizzled against its hide, Serana saw the lust of slaughter in its golden eyes and turned away – throwing herself into the field outside the 'protection' of the fort.

It was filled with battling nords and gargoyles, butchering each other over fields of smashed skeletons and slain thralls, howling above her the beast turned to follow only for the glint of Lathar's halberd to be seen, Serana got up and searched the field near on frantically for Reynald.

She couldn't see him no matter where she looked; the mages had been inside the fort across the walls when the gargoyles had attacked, none of them could busy themselves within anything else than survival. The illumination began to go dark leading further damage to the morale of the nords, Serana knew something of illusion and began to do what she could to keep the battlefield lit up in the darkness, but it was akin to saving a sinking boat with a bucket and pale.

The battle sounded to wax harder in the fort; blood spurted over the parapet drenching her across the face and mouth, reflexively she licked the blood away with her tongue, sweet and tangy; she relished the taste for only a moment, before she realised it had probably belonged to one of those men and mer she'd stood beside on the walls only moments before.

The thought made her retch, in the snow against the cold wall face while the battle continued, thankfully no one took notice of her against the wall in a mess of vomit and blood, her arm was useless and blood poured freely from the wound.

The battle waxed so badly that she thought the nords would break away from their attempts on the base, but as she had seen; or heard or read off, when a battle went awry tides could be turned at one moment. This one came for them with a great explosion of noise from the darkness beyond where Serana could not see, a tearing that enveloped the whole coast, pitching high enough to startle every creature and man who were in the struggle.

No one could guess what caused the event; until a great shade many times the greatest gargoyle came forward in the night sky, louder and shriller than what all of those foul beasts could manage, it snarled and exulted as it flew in a sweeping arch over the fort and across the sea line, Serana heard another shout – men this time from the clearing.

It was easy to hear them even over the dragon, "DRAGONBORN! DRAGONBORN! DRAGONBORN!" the chant reached the sky; adding to the thunder that struck the sky, suddenly and unnaturally, lighting began to lash across the trampled snow while a thick torrent of rain poured down – all from a swirling vortex that ensnared the sky as far as could be seen.

There was no more darkness; too much lighting struck around, startling the night with an ethereal hue, levelling droves of the gargoyles across the fields, the nords rejoiced and turned back to the fortress through the thinned gargoyles, slaying them one to many as they went.

The rain helped wash away the blood; the nords rallying helped unlock the fighter inside her, she banished any thoughts of shame or guilt as Reynald crossed the small groove into her view, bloodied across his face and right shoulder, at a pace he ran with many nords around him in a protective formation, in his good hand his blade was aloft and he was thundering as he went – his injuries forgotten, "Ahkrin! Ahkrin! Ahkrin! Courage! Courage my brothers!" he thundered and shouted, his men roared and joined their dragon ally above.

Serana joined them as they reached the gates; a surge of men and steel under a torrent of lighting and rain, she saw that the bear chieftain led the way sword and shield at hand, but he and his men resorted to using their combined strength to shove whatever creatures held the doorway, relentless the gargoyles fought yet their numbers availed them nothing – and down they went under the torrent of steel.

But Reynald instead cast a spell that gave him a faint hue of violet, and he leapt upwards, she quickly joined him; commanding herself to rise up onto the walls with Reynald, bodies of man and beast alike were lain along; redguards and gargoyles, at least one bloody cloaked mage and some of Milisi's dunmer, blood soaked the whole parapet and turned everything red or black, there was no snow.

Amazingly however; fortunately or not so, she didn't know, was that across the fortress was her father, standing in his putrid form of pallid flesh and fangs, his eyes ablaze while under his taloned grip he held a battered and bloodied redguard, one she did not know.

Bodies lay atop and inside the walls, around him where gargoyles and redguards, joined by a lamellar clad body and two of that distinctive sort she knew as her father's sort, lain half decapitated at Lathar's feet.

"So this is the great force who would finally fell the eternal lord – led by my daughter and some whelp" His voice was pompous rather than terrifying, his face was a mask of rancid flesh than power, Reynald standing slightly in front and across her – protectively almost, was not impressed, "Come to die with your cretins?" he asked even injured as he was, Serana saw distinctive puncture marks having punched through his shoulder.

Harkon eyed them all Serana could see; warily, more alert than his lazy guise would suggest, Lathar at one end had his gleaming halberd dripping with the blood of so many of Harkon's beasts and brood, while Milisi to the other sat in grim determination with hands coiled in fists of coiled destruction.

"Your days are done Harkon, you've slain your last man" Reynald warned coldly, sword loose in hand, hoping Harkon would release his man and strike at him personally for the comtempt shown, but he was not a fool, "You are but a spec on the histories; a worm that ravels his way through a few paltry years, I am the lord who shall conquer the son – I am the lord who will throw off the shackles of Nirn! Mark my words boy, this day will be your last." Grotesquely Harkon threw out his hand; pulling the man apart in them with such brutality that those around him recoiled in disgust; saving Lathar and Milisi both who attempted to strike him mundanely and arcanely alike.

His form gave him wings to fly away off into the night, "By the end of this day your head will hang by my alter, mark my words – DRAGONBORN!" he turned away, flapping away back to his dark hole, nothing undead or vile stirred save her, bodies lay about in such great density that people could barely move without falling over someone.

Reynald sagged a little; steeping over the corpse of the mage and settling down against the edge of the wall, "Who did we lose?" he asked sitting down, the act so unnatural given how much blood surrounded them, "Celann, two others of my guard." Isran answered some way aside in the fort, clearing struggling to stand, "There's bodies everywhere, let's just settle on who's alive" Dralas gave a moment later, looking wretched with a deep gouge into his lower chest, another mage frantically applied a poultice to the wound.

It was easier it seemed after a time to count the living, as they had quite easily lost half their number, to death more than injury as was usually the case, "those creatures didn't give one part of quarter. Arkay could barely save me" a grievously wounded Florentius told them as she was carted in on a sled serving as a litter, "knocked me off the wall and near on caved my head in", "It wasn't arkay you bloody ingrate, it was me" Skald complained, looking fine to the world despite his ragged flop of hair and blood soaked brow.

Many others were injured but thankfully alive, and on Reynald and Lathar's unrelenting notion of attacking a count for thirty warriors was given, an easily matched.

Redguard's and dunmeri; nords and dawnguard alike clambered to get into the thrity select as the sun came upon them, Reynald ordered Isran – who had gotten over his harsh knock to select them, Serana while being worked on saw the man take himself off to the fields were a host of dead lay.

It seemed strange for him to be there before he shouted again, a strange and low curse that caused no fire or ice; no thunder or lightening, but rather a violet mess of flesh and puss, expanding and enveloping the space in front of him until it morphed into the semblance of a dragon.

Durnehviir she realised, the dragon that had thundered at them earlier and then disappeared, Reynald had summoned him from the soul cairn.

Summoned him for good reason, commanding with an upraised hand that the dragon tear her father's barbican down, "Melt it all my friend, and I shall bring you back to this world" he'd said as the great beast threw itself upwards, onto the great castle where it began to shriek and pour fire at castle Voliknar.

Reynald approached them again; torn shirt and all still around him and gave a useless assurance that the dragon would do its work, "Have you got thirty?" he asked Isran, who smiled savagely in response, "It looks like we have sixty; half of whom can fight only half as well as they think thay can, but want to kill twice as many vampires." The man relished the thought of all these men willing to fight his enemy, but Serana couldn't blame him, not with all these corpses around.

"Any who can swing a sword can come as reserves" Reynald replied, eager himself to end things, turning to Dralas he told him to ready his mages for their 'water walk', everything was going now; all those willing marched out together as brothers in a battle, not one redguard or nord turned away.

Serana wouldn't sit this out; not even with her arm feeling weak, she got into the assembly with the rest while Reynald took to the front, looking gallant against the pure backdrop of the fresh morning sky, even the flaming dragon couldn't disrupt him.

"Men of Skyrim; men of Hammerfell, mer of Morrowind and those of the Dawnguard, brothers in the fight against the tyranny of Harkon, now is the end of this 'great lord' – a throwback to a generation where slaughter and brute force meant power" Dralas moved past, oblivious to his grand gesture and began working his glowing stave over the water in front, Reynald held a long cloak in hand bundled over something, long enough to be nothing else but a long bow – Auriel's bow.

He produced it to them; a glistening and taut bow of the purest silver, overlain with slivers of matchless gold, the string was spun silk and the arrows along with it were glabrous yet sublime, perfection not seen even in the skyforge steel of nordic renown.

"Now follow me! And let's slay these beasts" Reynald turned and marched at that, followed across the ice by the entire force who walked as if nothing was amiss.

Serana couldn't help but feel supreme at that moment, eager as she marched in unison with free people to slay a man who'd tormented her life for years, others for thousands without the respite, in front was her home and one time sanctuary from the sort of beings around her, and she was going to help crumble it to the ground.

Durnehviir certainly did his job in helping however, and she wondered just how hot dragonfire ran, the barbican was melting by the time they had managed to settle their ranks and march.

It wasn't completely down however until Reynald approached it; shouting "Fo Krah Diin" ice erupted from him in a torrent, freezing the metal already melted and leaving it to groan and protest, a moment later and his familiar; most well known ability screeched into the gate "Fus Do Rah" snapping all the metal and shattering the heavy doors themselves, Reynald waited a moment to let the way settled before shouting where heard upon the other side and bodies emerged.

Thralls; well maintained ones by their sharp dress and thick plate armour, guards of the castle Serana knew them as, perhaps ten in all, coming forward with pronged spears and maces.

Isran pivotally at the front of the line lifted up that weapon of his – a short and stocky weapon with a thick bulge atop, all wooden and fired it.

The effect was brutal; the rap-rap-rap-rap in reality bolts being fired repeatedly, running across the oncoming guards and piercing their thick armour, five fell before they could even touch Reynald while the rest fell victim to a devastating destruction spell that cooked them in their own armour, courtesy of Dralas who had came with them.

"I told the arch-mage I would return with all those I brought with me, I'll make these bastards pay for making me look like a fool" he explained harshly, sleeves rolled up and hood down, exposing his vicious face "You first then" Reynald offered in return, and smugly the dunmeri went forward into the smoke ridden hole, the rest followed after a long moment.

Inside they found nothing amiss to what any of them expected; that is to say that they expected a bloody fight and found themselves facing nothing, an empty entryway devoid of any thralls of vampires, "Even all the gargoyles are gone" Serana noted, seeing that every piece of 'stonework' had been broken, wary of a trap they advanced into the main dining hall.

Inside way a nightmare of blood and gore, bodies stacked like crates atop each other in some dark fantasy of a sacrifice, every thrall and 'cattle' had seemingly been slain perhaps in aid of their strength, the floors sopped with crimson, the tables had hulks of limbs upon them.

"By the divines, what barbarism" one of the nords, a bear backed warrior said as they pushed through the carnage, down the stairs unto the soaked bottom steps, "There. That one isn't a mortal." Dralas pointed to a body still struggling behind the far table, gulping for air as they came up and surrounded it, the armour of house Volkinar was upon him.

"What's your name" he was asked by Serana; hoping that perhaps he would relate to her, but he only laughed with a maw filled with black blood, his eyes were fierce even in his dying throws "Ah, the daughter of our great lord Harkon, come to finish the job you and this – mortal have started?" he gave Reynald a deathly look, but he wasn't in the mood.

Taking his blade he pierced the man's already ruptured shoulder with it, eliciting a sagging hiss, "Where is Harkon? Where are all the other vampires?" his blade pressed further and the man howled, a retched looking nord who had long been deprived of life, Reynald would be doing him a favour, "Gone…there all gone. They left when Harkon returned. When he told them Hesta, Modhna, all of those that accompanied him had been slain they lost their nerve…or saw their chance. Vingalmo stole the chalice and gutted me; the elvish bastard. Orthjolf stole away after him…left me to die" the words were bitter and full of rage, he looked dismayed if a vampire truly could.

"What is the chalice…where would Vingalmo go? Where is Harkon. Tell us beast and we'll end you quickly" Isran growled at him, getting down on his haunches beside Reynald and producing a hand sized sickle in hand, "tell me now and swiftly; or I'll make your end one to forget."

He was eager to die it seemed, as he gave up all knowledge freely "the bloodstone chalice, it can be used in a place called redwater den, Vingalmo will go there…and the rest will follow him. Harkon is in his chamber, marshalling all the power of Molag Bol." Isran looked to Serana to see the truth, she nodded and he used his sickle, ripping through the throat of the man so brutally that he had to avert her eyes.

"That's what you call quick?" she accused, to which Isran simply shrugged, "Quicker than all those corpses received" he replied, none of them looked about to argue, "Let's just get this over with" she walked up into the forefront of the chamber, towards the cathedral where they had sacrified all they had so many years ago.

A gate was enforced upon it; but by some effort it was forced away, "We don't need everyone here, I can't see this room being wide enough for us all to battle, and we don't know truly if all the vampires are gone" Reynald started before they attempted to enter, Serana felt so alive and energized beside him, "Isran; Aela, Lathar, Milisi and Dralas, all of you come with me. The rest of you separate into two parties, take either wing of the castle and purge it." No one disobeyed the orders, perhaps those accompanying the leaders didn't want to face Harkon himself, save those dawnguard members who looked mildly perturbed, "I'm coming as well" Serana insisted, "Of course." She was told with what could have been a reassuring smile, if the tension wasn't so thick.

Lathar took up the head as they moved bullishly, "I'm taking the lead, I've seen this golt fight. He casts spells stronger than most battlemages would hope too; he can disappear and strike where you least expect, Milisi and – you mage…Dralas, focus on shielding us all, restoration and wards. Dragonborn you have the bow, those sunhallowed arrows of yours are meant to be blessed, use them." Serana grabbed his bronzed sleeve as he went forward, "what about me?" she asked hotly, "You. You just make sure you fight your hard as you can, I'm not expecting you to gut your own father." Oddly touching, she let the man go forward, following in the last as Lathar snapped the chamber door with a busting kick.

"Oh great vampire lord! Who flees like a doe in her skirts, Lathar Mathias has come to give you your death!" the man was absolutely fearless, didn't flinch at all when he caught sight of the blood sopped shrine with it's horrible pincher maw.

None of them did; not one marched into the room with anything less than grim determination in their eyes and weapons in their hands, Serana couldn't help but push through to the forefront, Harkon looked upon them with rage that made his bones quiver.

"So this is it my daughter…you've fallen in with this lot of meat sacks, low vermin you should feast on rather than befriend?" his words were poison, he wasn't capable of love anymore, he'd had that stolen by the prophecy, "I'm here to destroy you, I'm here to end all the pain you've caused – all the pain you want to cause." She was, she didn't even feel anger or pain anymore, just the finality that he had to die, "I'm sorry you allowed yourself to be caught up in the prophecy, I'm sorry you lost your father."

She could have cursed or attacked him to cause less pain; and he roared with fury so visible the raw frothing crimson power of the shrine began to envelop him, "Sorry for me! Sorry? Who are you to be sorry for me! I AM THE LORD OF THE NIGHT!" he was maniacal, enraged beyond coherence, Milisi threw up the promised shielding which covered them all in a sheen of sea blue, Reynald notched an arrow and loosed it, Lathar and Aela charged, Dralas tore at him with a jet of streaming lighting, Harkon was struck by it and knocked into his own shrine.

His skin welted and blackened; the arrow missed yet his pain roared out from his throat, Serana thought for a moment that he was already dead, only for him to release himself by way of teleportation, a haze of bats and mist threw themselves about the room to release themselves from Dralas's severe casting, all of them remained alert.

He came to one of the two high arches on either side of the room, cramped and clogged with bones and rusted metals, Serana thought he would summon bonewalkers in desperation but the reality was worse, he'd been communing with Molag Bol it seemed, who granted the use of his most terrible footsoldiers.

Harkon threw his hand out and the warp of conjuration was all around them; six perhaps, coated in daedric armour so dense it appeared lightless, coating their chests and arms, thighs and feet. Their faces were death masks; hollow and completely without features save for triple piercing horns on either side of colourless eye slits, all wielded heavy maces and a spiked glove on their oft hand, they were the Armanzi – fierce; unforgiving, slayers of the master of cold harbour.

They fought in the dozens yet could kill the hundreds; peerless save for their daedric brothers of the deadlands and the realms of madness.

Ordinarily.

When one faced Lathar however the redguard twisted under himself like an Akaviri; deflecting it's weapon with his halberd end before pulling it's feet from under it, another attempted to clout him from behind but met his halberd instead, as if it weighed one darr rather than twenty Lathar curled and spun the weapon, knocking the mace back before he punched it cleanly – entirely through the chest of the Armanzi guard.

Another made for Reynald only to be caught firmly by his dragonsword, Dralas on having one heave it's mace rolled nimbly under the weapon cloak and all, before coming up and placing a blindingly bright hand upon the warrior's arm, Dralas laughed as it crumpled and groaned into nothingness, Harkon raged and went at them again as Aela and Isran were forced into a slugging match in the far corner.

"Come on Harkon! Meet your doom!" Lathar howled as her father went at him; wider and snarling with a mouth filled with blood and gore, they grappled halberd against talons while Reynald forced his armanzi opponent towards the alter, Dralas and Milisi towards the stairwell intersected another two of the black clad daedra.

Serana saw her father turn his attention fully on the never seen before retreating Lathar; his weapon rendered useless in Harkon's rasping grip, she sprung forward and with her blade in hand leapt at him, swiftly and truly, forcing the curved head of her weapon deep into where a normal man's organs would have been.

Her blade dug deep and illicted a fierce howl from her father; Lathar on the opportunity threw himself back a touch before unleashing a jagged blade from the sleeve of his bronzed wrist protector, it opened a horrible slash across her father's throat and she thought it near ended him.

He was nigh unstoppable it seemed; fueld by his rage and Molag Bol's blessing, an explosion of crimson the darkest shade of red enveloped him and threw Lathar and her back, him into the wall and her against the steps, Harkon could actually be so bold as to dismiss the redguard and turn on her, causing her an almost feel that familiar pang of fear, "How can your weapons pierce the flesh of a night lord daughter?" he was mocking her even as the envoy's of Molag Bol and her allies fought around him, as Lathar came up to rise and tackle him again.

He was fearless; aware of the danger but heedless of it, Lathar got within reach before Harkon reacted, vanishing into a plume of snarling vermin leaving the redguard's weapon to sail harmlessly through the vacated space, Harkon appeared a moment later behind him and swiped at his back cruelly, his talons couldn't but manage to tear through the bronze armour Lathar protected himself with.

It wasn't deep enough to have him fall but Harkon was far more insidious than that; his claw allowing him to drain the very life force of Lathar, Serana acted and launched herself over the redguard in a arching flip that brought her down behind her father, but instead of attacking she ducked under a blow she knew to be coming before driving her back upwards across his chest and face, making him howl and charge forward to bowel her over.

All his mass meant he knocked her over with considerable ease; onto her back and at his mercy as lathar sagged behind and the two mages grappled with the daedric warriors, she couldn't fathom where Aela had been or Reynald, while Harkon loomed over her with his hand raised to strike.

She couldn't think to pull her sword up or strangle him; drain his own life or shield herself with her hands, his face was too gruesome and rage filled to resist, his hand came down and plunged through her stomach, deep and unrelenting.

At first it was pure pain; lancing through every part of her until she couldn't move for fear of eliciting anymore, she couldn't even cry out as her body attempted to numb the pain, her father's sneer was her whole world, cruel and unyielding.

She was going to die; in pain and ingloriously, the daughter of a horrible bastard of a vampire lord who terrorized Skyrim and slaughtered an entire town on some fantastical thought of immortality, no one would remember her as anything more, perhaps Reynald would have a softer recollection of her.

The thought of the man led her to warmer thoughts that should have been possible; and even if she couldn't relate what was around her, she was there to be saved or slaughtered by it, Harkon wouldn't have his wish, he wouldn't have his daughters life, not if the sun kissed elvin arrows of Reynald were anything to demand things.

She saw Harkon rear in pain as the first one struck his shoulder; flail back as another pierced his chest in the spot she had wounded him already, another scored him in the jaw before he could finally recover, Serana looked over her head with all the pain it entailed at a dragonborn standing erect with Auriel's bow pulled taut against his shoulder.

Blood beaten and sullied he still looked as a mountain cat would; blue eyes shining and his mouth twisted into a grim smile, he notched another arrow and Harkon roared at him, bursting forward in his coward's form to revitalize himself at his alter.

"Fus Do Rah!" Reynald shouted however; forcing him back and near against her as he became whole again, bloody himself and scored with wounds, Lathar and Dralas skulked around wounded but alert, Aela and Milisi now lay behind Harkon while Isran came to side by Reynald, his creative new weapon in hand.

His minions looked to be destroyed or banished; but he could still conjure more, opened up with wide gouges and piercing wounds that snaked across his chest, all the way to his face that was distorted with all sorts of the gore expected of so many injuries.

"You think to use the bow against me…I wonder if you would be willing to do so will my claws so close to my daughter, do you not hold her dear?" Harkon's wager was obvious of course, as his talons flexed on the side of where she lay, his eyes boring into her with a brutal smile coating his twisted visage of power.

Reynald didn't unnotch his arrow but rather relaxed his arm if only slightly, knowing that Harkon couldn't be stopped from finishing the brutal business he'd started with her, "More dearly than you do apparently, but what does it matter? Will you stay your hand?" Harkon laughed Reynald played the hesitant, even with all the pieces, she'd be touched if her hands weren't fist deep in her own blood and guts, "Have your friends leave…I'll give you my daughter" An exchange not worth it for any sane eyes, "and you expect me to what…walk out of here and leave you to your castle?" Reynald asked, his weapon still not wavering.

Harkon even in all his injury was not yet devoid of his insidious way of charm; or lack thereof, "If you wish to go; if you wish to save my daughter…or perhaps you wish to stay, to fight me without all your assembly? To choose who is worthy of the bow – great hero?" Reynald nodded simply; smugly, and dropped his aim and looked to his friends, who remarkably didn't protest or argue even in the slightest, Serana strangely saw Milisi at one of the sides of the uprising platforms charge a spell of some sort, but with that most of them filed out, Isran skirted around with a fierce glare on his face.

"Take Serana out of here Isran" Reynald commanded him; with a solid stare to his eyes that belied something Harkon couldn't know, but Isran did his task as commanded, one hand to her shoulder with another resting on his weapon.

He got to the door; Serana hissed in pain as she was slodded up the steps, she could see Reynald as she was carted away, just as the dawnguard leader got her near the door, "Isran! Shoot him now!" Reynald suddenly turned and brought up the great bow again, loosing an arrow that caught Harkon again in the chest, but it wasn't enough, Harkon turned to loose a great burst of destruction upon the door.

"Wuld!" went the thu'um of Reynald however, spiriting him across the room in a burst quick enough to deliver him before Haron could unleash his attack, Serana saw Reynald the moment before his blade forced itself up through Harkon's back, she saw her father as he realised he'd been so grievously attacked, her leapt near burst as Harkon blew Reynald back with an eruption of dark particles around him.

He went skidding across the floor without his back; it snapped as Harkon's dark emulation enveloped him, both sides clanged as they hit the ground, Isran's weapon caught Harkon perhaps seven times and did nothing to prevent his advance on Reynald, his body was shaking with fury.

Out of the corner of her eye a figure appeared in a hue of sea green energy; beautifully armoured in a silver sheen of mithril and riveted emerald, over the short drop she went, Milisi the mysterious dunmeri went forward and charged a spell to her hands.

It brought forward an impeccably deadly; impossibly lethal spear of that darkest and lightless daedric design, with only an unnatural blood red hue to it, such an ironic weapon to impale a vampire lord with, and she did so – with such perfect grace that Harkon was pierced through his chest out off his right shoulder, she never thought she'd have seen her father pierced like a common slaughterfish.

He was disabled but not done; Serana even as she weakened couldn't turn away as she watched Reynald rose up, his quiver of arrows sprawled out and the bow of Auriel thrown away on the floor, he picked both up and approached Harkon, sagging as whatever dark power coursed through and weakened him, "All must die save the gods and princes Harkon…and you are neither" Reynald said the words with something like rage and sadness in his voice, he gave her a moment of his embroiled eyes before he notched an arrow and drew back the bow.

Harkon's mouth poured with blood as he attempted to roar, pitiful and comtemptful, slain perhaps not by his enemies usefulness but by his own sorts cowardice, the arrow loosed and imbedded itself in his eye, his body sagged and finally dropped, Reynald followed him down to a knee.

Then Harkon was gone; removed to a sad sidenote on the history of Skyrim, his body devolving into a puddle of black blood that smoked against the tiles under it, she felt hands on her body as she began to lose herself to death, they were Isran's – all cold and light.

"Hang on bloodsucker…I have killed many of your kind…you'll be the first I'll save" the words didn't comfort her; she'd think he would do as much as her father would to save her, but she didn't feel herself fade into the realm of Molag Bol, as a traitor for all the eternities.

She felt weightless as she was lifted; floating out of the castle on the shoulders of others, her stomach was still fragile and open but she couldn't feel the pain any longer.

Time passed for how long she didn't know, sleepless and without a touch of darkness, until finally she could free herself of her own mind and pull herself from the reverie.

When she did she found herself in a roofless tower; on an decrepit bed with scant else about her, her stomach pulled and ached but it was nothing now to the grievous wound inflicted by her father, noises came from the outside of the tower, and she steeled herself to rise as she knew many of them.

It didn't happen however; pain shot through her and left her there panting on the bed, irritated and aware she was useless, she forced herself upward through sheer force of will, rising unsteadily and making her way down the rickety steps.

Seeing nothing of interest below she opened up the doorway and saw the bridge of her home; saw the nordic men and redguards passing in front heaving out cartloads of sacks and lockboxes, gold and jewels alike spilled out from one sack or another, Serana recognised those boxes as the ones her father kept his chief remnants of ancient opponents inside.

Another two carts came followed by one of the dawnguard, Skald as it occurred, he saw her and strangely gave her a delightful little bow, "I see your feeling better milady – good to see in a passing few days of tragedies. I hope you don't mind our business here, but Reynald commanded we take all this across the banks" the men pushing stilled to see her reaction, perhaps weary enough to consider her a threat even with her hand across her stomach, "These are my father's ill gotten gains, not mine" she gave them a small coy smile and they nodded happily, Skald continued on after directing her that Reynald was within the castle, Serana struggled on up the long winding bridge.

She reached the shattered gateway; with two dunmeri standing not at attention but certainly as impromptu guards, the doorway itself was shattered and couldn't soon be mended, the bodies of her father's guards had been removed, both mer gave her a stiff nod as she passed.

Therein the first place she found a great many of the dawnguard and the few mages she'd actually caught eye off, discussing something heatedly it seemed, some turned to see her enter and caut off their conversation, Isran finally caught on and gave her his attention.

For once it seemed he wasn't entirely willing to despise her, his face wasn't half as pitiless and scrunched up as usual "So you're up and alive…can't say I'm surprised, you're kind always are full of fight" he was growling at her as he did at everyone and that was okay, because maybe it meant he started to see her maybe not as a human but as a person after all, "thank you Isran…for healing me" he gwuaffed at her words but didn't refuse them "The dragonborn always saw something in you, maybe it was something I didn't allow myself to see. Either way it doesn't matter; you've done enough good for me to turn my eyes away, just don't make me regret it." Serana nodded at that, asked where Reynald was and moved on, the big and insane imperial Florientus greeted her with the blessing of Arkay as she went.

He was in the dungeons; and she could feel her heart twist as she realised what he'd find, as quick as she could she rushed down through the right flank of the building, into the bowels, ignoring the constant twinges of pain she finally found him, cloaked and turned away from her into the room filled with immunerable pieces of bodies numbering in the hundreds here alone, thousands below.

She didn't speak for a little while; instead watching as he sifted through some bones with his boot, sometimes sighing and other times cursing, it looked so disgusting as Serana knew what eyes he would see it through.

"You're breathing is laboured" he said to her then out of the blue; surprising herself as he turned, his hands were wrapped in the folds of his cloak like a serene old monk, "You have ears like a gargoyle" she replied slightly unease still even if his words were light, "this place…this place is monstrous" she told him a moment later, he gave her a long nod accompanied by a deflated sigh.

"It is horrible; to think that so many perished here in the view of being nothing more than torture victims and feedbags, your father and his court were a nightmare" he made for the stairs, but instead of ascending right up offered Serana a hand, she took it and made her way up with him.

She didn't know what to say to him; hadn't thought about her father being gone either, perhaps because he'd been gone so many countless years ago, but Reynald was right here.

He seemed without an idea either; the pair of them marching out of the horrifying places side by side, "Let's go outside" he said to her after a moment, she'd feel good for the air.

She noted how the castle seemed so much more peaceful even with all the soldiers around, no tension remained in the air, al the bodies had been removed also as had anything of worth upon the walls. Her fathers sigil and standards had been torn down and thrown away, his many 'prizes' laid to rest or thrown into the sea she supposed, they were taking everything her father had ever put into this place – and there wasn't one part of her that was sad to see it.

The air felt good for her as they escaped the castle; Reynald ushered off the dunmeri and went close to the high edge of the bridgeway, he finally sat down and gave her a curious look under a glad smile.

"What?" she confusedly asked, going to sit beside him with some unease, "I'm not allowed to smile?" he replied still happily, looking about him as if he'd never seen a bright morning sun before, "I suppose you are" he laughed and she looked at him with as much crossness as she could muster, "What's wrong with you? Weren't you just gloomy a moment ago?" he shrugged.

"I don't care. Not about all those poor souls, not right now. This day is too good; and things have finished too well. I know your father finally had to die; but if I was honest I'd say this is the best day Skyrim has seen since Alduin was slain" It was a horrible admission to anyone but her, because she didn't hold any idea of familial love or bondship anymore, she looked and Reynald and yet again with something beyond bravery placed her hand atop his.

"It's okay…I'm done with my father and whatever he became, now all I care about is getting a life beyond this place, far away from all this death and destruction" She could have imagined it but she truly did believe Reynald squeezed her hand back, she looked at him and saw he had his eyes on her for a full and long moment, where he couldn't have taken anything in – before he diverted his gaze to the ruined castle just beside them.

The silence was golden and unwanted all in the same, she wished he'd say something to her that gave away his intentions, what he would do if he seemed to be steering away from war, but he did; and it pained her to hear "In the next few days I'll be leaving for the south, I'm going to settle Ulfric and these imperials out once and for all, on the back of a dragon so they know I'm serious. After that well I can't say, perhaps it's time I finally march with him into the imperial heartlands – use him as a decoy and have my forces in High Rock rush through the north western passages. I could have Chorrol in a few days if I caught them unawares–

Serana grabbed his face; tight in her strong enough grip even without her claws and attacked him, or perhaps attacked wouldn't have been the right word, considering how he took it.

That was to say she kissed him; awkwardly and without any prior knowledge of how someone went about the act, she started off by pressing her lips against his, before his lips parted and he replied with his tongue meeting hers. If he was keen to throw her over the edge he didn't show it; grabbing her gently around her injured stomach, before he realised and put his hand upon her hip, Serana almost forget where she was, pulling at his collar with so much fire in her fist that she near tore his tattered shirt apart, her teeth bit into his lip in a slightly frenzy.

He laughed through the kiss and she finally pulled back; looking at him quietly to see if he'd offer up any protest, "I'm glad you didn't bite me properly" he said with a flushed face, looking less a conqueror and more a keen stableboy, wary of where they were and who was around them Reynald caught her again with another kiss, interrupted by his irrepressible grin, Serana wanted to pull him over the side just to get them closer but he again pulled away again after a moment.

"Afraid of your friends thinking you're a vampire lover?" she teased him with only a slight worry behind it, but she quashed it by grabbing her hand and holding it firmly, across his own lap, "I'm already known as a vampire conspirator in these parts, I might as well have a reason for it" She laughed; loving that his whole ragged look was gone, his spirits were up, he was as happy as she'd ever seen him, it made a difference of being surrounded by all these brooding and dangerous people.

She still wondered in the back of her mind however; would he ever leave his call for battle behind, would he become a lord of a 'great' nation carved out over the bodies of thousands or finally put down his sword when his duty was finished. "I don't suppose you're willing to give up your quest for justice and revenge…maybe come along with me to the five peaks? Do a tower of Skyrim's mead houses?" she asked him lightly but she still felt a pang of sadness, she knew he would say no, what else could he say?

"If I could forget about all this I would; I think, I don't know if I could ever retire and live like some retired swordsman." He was honest at least, cruelly open to her, but he wouldn't just leave her like that, "But that's not to say I'll not have time for whatever this is, the empire is weak and ready to fall in on itself, I don't think my next advance will take half as long as it did for me to settle Skyrim."

"I'm sure your allies will positively love to see you have your faithful vampire friend along…or would I be your consort…maybe aide? You could say I was a prisoner" it was uncalled for and petty but she couldn't help it, she was sick of being on the periphery of society, "look – I know you have to deal with all the bile and hate from nords, but you must know that there a secular people; there like that with elves and the redguards for the most too. I don't know what I can say other than I won't let anyone on my command harm you, you've given more than any of us to stop this threat."

He was right; and none of them would give her an inch so long as her eyes lit up in the unnatural hue, or that her teeth could produce fangs more akin to a mountain cat than nordic girl, who couldn't mind the entire 'drinking of people's lifeforce' either, she needed to either excuse herself from the world or embrace their terms, she didn't want to hide anymore.

She couldn't tell him before they were interrupted however; and true to his word Reynald's grip did not falter on hers, "Pardon me dragonborn…but I have an urgent dispatch from jarl Elisif" the man was not one of those who had fought in the battle, his feet were still snow soaked and his dress was free of any blood or sighs of injury, he was young as well being no older than twenty winters perhaps.

Reynald got up and left her; taking the note in hand, there was no official writ on the piece of paper and the man was no official messenger, his face scrutinized every word as if searching out every letter for truth, he dropped it and near dashed it on the ground after what seemed to be an endless time reading it.

He was back to being furious, back to being that man she knew him as, a tragic general not allowed to live, or losing the capability of it even, "Tell the jarl I got the message and I'll deal with the issue soon, my thanks." He didn't have anything to give the man so he sent him away, gnawing at his cheek as he left, "What is it?" she asked nervously, god knows what this meant now.

It wasn't her father of the vampires however, it was the king yet again, "Ulfric has somehow managed to capture jarl Balgruuf; an old friend of mine, one I betrayed on behalf of this detestable…racist dog – what was I thinking? He means to execute him, to settle accounts against any moderates perhaps."

"What are you going to do?" she already knew he would do something; but he looked angry, so angry that his hands clenched near involuntarily, his teeth grinded, "I'm going to talk him out of it…I'm going to present him with a compromise…and if he doesn't take it I'm going to kill him."

Everything kicked on then; he left her for a long time, long enough it seemed to sort out his business with Isran and Milisi inside the castle, when he returned they were talking on the finer points of what exactly he'd be expecting from them, Aela and Lathar joined them then.

Isran was settled; having taken some recompensation for his losses and having dealt with the remains of those slain in the battle, "All of you helped deal a death blow against a great threat, I count you all as friends of the dawnguard. We will continue what we have all started and near on finished, thank you." He gave them all a firm nod and then was gone; marching away with his lamellar clad fellows, Lathar followed next having settled some jewels and gold for his men to take home with them, he was equally as tight lipped and left with little or no ceremony.

It left Milisi and the mages along with the nords; who together would help sanctify castle Volkinar before returning to their homes, "The nordic captains will deliver the remnants of the castles treasury to Dawnstar; Milisi will help along with the mages to settle any poor souls who have been unsettled in the place, after that you can all leave and never look on the castle again."

"And what will you do?" Aela asked, not associated to any of them it seemed and not willing to leave Reynald to his own it seemed, Serana would have been the same only for the pain roaring through her stomach, "I'm going south with Durnehviir, fast and quick, Ulfric needs brought into reins before he executes the only man capable of giving opposition to him."

"Apart from you of course" Aela reminded him, "And you think you don't need people you can trust there?" Reynald brushed her aside "Dragons can do more than any amount of warriors can; I won't be starting a battle, keep your mind at rest harbinger." That was him then, off to fight another battle, "Aela get the hall back into order; settle accounts and marshal what warriors you can, and then meet me where Ulfric's laid his camp." She agreed and set off, better to work with than argue against him she supposed the women knew.

He said the same to Milisi only with the altercation that they meet some ways east in some shorn watchtower or the other, he'd send word for her apparently, but he mercifully left Serana with a more personal touch, "I'll need to summon Durnehviir nearer the seashore, we can walk and talk?" She happily – though neutrally for the rest agreed.

As they walked Reynald brooded; he didn't even look to her for advice but rather threw his cloak around him and went listless, she didn't fell there was time enough for everything she'd wanted to say to him, but as was true with him as ever he always kept good people close.

"This is detestable; that I should have to go and save one nords life from the hands of another, who's meant to be the correct judge of a whole nation. I once thought that Ulfric and me could live under the same sky, but those days are long past" despite his words he looked grief stricken, appalled at the thought of it, but he was as ever the disciplined soldier, he wouldn't have an 'innocent' life and that of his friend go to waste. "I need to go south and you can't come with me, but when this is settled I don't want you to fly away to some corner of the map. Work to sort out your family home; regain your mother, I'm sure Milisi would be glad of the chance to explore the soul cairns. Do all that and find relief with the mages college, I'll be able to contact you."

He was grasping slightly but she accepted it, stopping him with an upraised hand, "It's fine, I know you're a busy dragonborn…just don't do anything to undo everything you've accomplished so far. You're not some cold hearted bastard lord and you're not stupid either, you can outsmart a few ice headed nords." He smiled and gave her a mock bow, turned away and summoned that big fleshy dragon of his, mounted it like an unbroken horse would take a rider, "I'll see you again milady, just try not to undo all that good work you've done."

She didn't plan to upset any of these frost headed nords or even the milder dunmeri, nor the hasty redguards or insane imperials, she only wished to undo one key piece that had helped resist every move she made towards a life, and it started by settling her family once and for all.