Jul

Lucius

Serana and I marched confidently into the main doors of Fort Dawnguard, the two of us simultaneously oblivious yet keenly aware of the looks being cast in our direction. The back of her hand drifted closer to me and our fingers dragged against each other for a moment before pulling apart. I fought to keep the fire in my cheeks down and calm my beating heart. Serana, meanwhile, had the edges of her lips curled upwards in a soft smile. "Well, it's about time that we had some good news," Isran said as we neared. He motioned for Agmaer, another of the new recruits, to take the Scroll from Serana. He did so, not missing the opportunity to shoot an angry glare at her while he did. "What's the news from Solitude?"

I glanced over at Serana, then back at Isran. "None of Harkon's Vampires were there," she said, crossing her arms. I nodded, backing her up. It wasn't a lie... per se.

"Queen Elisif's court is not going to be a problem," I said. Isran's glare shifted, no less hostile, from Serana to me. "And I hope you're happy with the Scroll – it cost me an arm and a leg, along with some... probably illegal readjustments of the College's funds towards the Arcanaeum."

"Do I look like I care?" Isran said as he returned his gaze to the map on the table. Soldiers bustled around him. It seemed Morthal's guards finally made it to the Fort for training.

"No, but it would have been nice," I said dryly. Isran tossed me another angry glare. "Or not. What next, grumpy?"

The man glared at me with hate, but I just smiled back disarmingly. Nothing could get in the way of my good mood at that moment. Serana's hands rubbed against mine and our fingers entangled. "Oblivion... I didn't think you would do it," Isran finally said.

The smile disappeared. "Uh, what?" I asked, already knowing that he knew. Serana pulled her hand away from mine hurriedly.

Isran shook his head. "Give us the room," he told the Dawnguard. They stopped, staring at the man. "Go!" The soldiers ran from the room, many still carrying scrolls and maps. The Elder Scroll was left on the table, glimmering with ancient power.

Isran sighed and leaned against the table, arms crossed and staring at Serana and me. "I didn't think that even you, even you, Lucius, would be this stupid," he grunted.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Serana muttered.

I shot her a glare, but couldn't help laughing with her just a bit. "Shut up, leech," Isran snapped.

I growled and stepped forward, hand on my blade. Isran stared for a moment, then began laughing uncontrollably. My hand fell from Dawnbreaker; Serana and I exchanged confused glances. "Well, that proves it. I knew, hoped not, but I knew you couldn't help yourself," Isran said, his laughter calmed. He shook his head at me, somewhere between mystified and disappointed. "You shacked up with the enemy."

"You know I'm right here, right?" Serana asked, glowering at the man.

"And?" Isran asked. He groaned and stood up. He began to shake his head in time with my name. "Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. What are we going to do with you?"

"Buy me a vacation home in southern Cyrodiil?" I suggested, earning another laugh from Isran. "You're taking this... oddly well."

"You slept with a Vampire. What am I going to do, kill you? You two got me the Elder Scroll, so fine. Do what you want," he said. He shrugged. "As long as you don't... turn, do whatever you want. Speaking of doing things, I have your next mission."

"Already? Joy," I grumbled. I felt my fingers interlock with Serana's and I smiled. "What is it?"

"Well, I've got another friend I need you to find. Gods, I wish we didn't need him, but we do," Isran replied. I frowned inquisitively. "You have to understand – he's crazy, thinks he hears Arkay, but I'll be damned if Florentius Baenius can't hear the quietest whispers about the enemy."

Fahiil

Thera

"Where is the Ancient Vampire?" Harkon sneered down at me as I collapsed on the rug of his chambers. His sword was drawn, ready to kill me for my failure. I could barely move; I was starving, having barely been able to even make it back to Castle Volkihar before my strength gave out. "You failed!"

"I don't think it was that simple," I snarled at the idiot. My vision darkened – even speaking was difficult at this point. "Blood..."

"Why? Why should I allow you to live, hm?" the Vampire Lord spat from above me. He placed his Akaviri blade atop my neck, ready to end my life. I couldn't do anything to stop him, physically. "Give me one reason to let such a failure survive."

"It was Lamae Beolfag," I whispered hoarsely before falling forward, unconscious.

I was awoken some time later, my jaws already clenched tightly around the throat of a dying Nord. Her blood streamed through my very being, awakening all of me and ridding me of many aches and pains. Though not all – the scars on my neck burned with aetherial, Magickal fire and served as a constant reminder of what I hated the most. Fear. "Lamae Beolfag, the Blood Matron," Harkon said as the Nord in my clutches fell into eternal slumber. He sighed and turned back to me. "That... I thought surely that her death at the hands of that army so long ago, headed by the Dawnguard of that time, had killed her. It would seem Lord Bal's domination of her death continues even now."

I clutched at the white marks on my throat. "I couldn't move around her," I explained.

"Yes, she has that effect on Vampires moreso than she even has on Mortals. The First Vampire is something beyond what any of us could ever become. A goddess of blood and mayhem who aims to dominate Molag Bal himself," Harkon explained, fear tinging his voice. "And... it has never been clear if she could succeed or not."

"So we have to kill her?" I insisted.

Harkon laughed loudly. "I doubt we could. No, I think the mortals will destroy her for us once again. Barring that... If you have an idea, please follow through on it," Harkon said. He frowned. "For now we will follow our plans as they were. I have... enticed a Moth Priest to come to Skyrim. We will need him to read my Elder Scroll, and advance my plans. Go to Dragon's Bridge and escort him, as well as those sent to collect him, back here. I will ponder what to do with the Blood Matron.

Jul

Ayleid

We were crowded, Tanyin and I, within the main hall of Skingrad's castle accompanied by the remaining soon-to-be dead Insects of the West Weald's capital. The Count was nowhere to be seen, though his steward was guiding the movements of the guards and citizens in his absence. Rather well, for an Insect.

Tanyin was fidgeting behind me, her nervousness actually aiding our mission. She looked like just another terrified Insect – though, I suppose she was. I sighed to myself – I would have to kill her, wouldn't I? I must admit, the thought was not... pleasant. It repulsed me, actually, but it was the duty I had been given by the Lords, and I must fulfill it if the time came. Until then, though: "I'm going to get what we need from the attic," I whispered to Tanyin. She flinched at my voice, her hand immediately on her throat. There was a hollow fire in her eyes that mirrored the blaze of the inn we had created. It was new, and a welcome change. "Make sure that no one leaves, and kill the guards five minutes after I leave. I want the Insects placid, afraid when I come back, do you understand?" She nodded. "Good. See you soon."

I stole away, the black of my cloak wrapped around me and blending into the shadows. I pulled the hood up and it was as if I was not even there, as invisible in the darkness as the master of this castle no doubt was. I made my way up the many floors of the castle, coming ever closer to the item that we had been sent to retrieve.

I quietly moved through the door, closing it behind me. There, before me, was what I had been searching for – "You came for the staff of Vanus Galerion, eh?"

I turned, sword already in hand. Fire crackled at my fingertips, ready to burn my new enemy to a crisp. He was middle aged, it looked, with dark hair that had only truly begun to gray by the time he had been turned. He wore deep black clothes with gold filigree, expensive, tasteful dress. The Count of Skingrad was many things, but uncultured he was not. "Well? Speak up, Thalmor," he snapped. A bloody, red light began to glow in the center of his palms and his golden eyes burned in the shadows. "I haven't got all day!"

I pulled down my hood. "Indeed I have, Leech," I snarled as the fire returned to my grasp. He looked almost surprised upon seeing my face. "Surprised I am human?"

"No, I guessed they had slaves," the Count replied. He let his hands fall to his side. "I'm going to die tonight."

I couldn't help myself – my curiosity was piqued. "Yes, obviously. Though most of my victims tend to have more fire in their eyes."

He looked up at me. "I haven't dreamed in... centuries," he explained. "And today I dreamed you would kill me."

"If you weren't a human I would say that the gods smiled upon you, giving you a prophecy," I laughed. I began to walk towards the Vampire, ready to kill him.

"I also dreamed you would die," he replied. He raised his arms, unleashing a stream of red Magicka. The spout hit me in the chest and I staggered back. The Vampire seemed to grow younger before me, my life force feeding his. I snarled and lashed out with my sword, causing the Vampire to hiss and move away. His Magicka faded as he became distracted.

I scrabbled to my feet, a stream of fire already directed at the Count to give me more breathing room. He snarled and sidestepped the flames, agilely turning as he did and shooting off another blast of red Magick towards me. I growled and dropped my flames, raising a ward just in time to absorb the energy, re-energizing my body and life force. "Then I suppose the gods were laughing at you!" I snapped, moving towards the weaponless Count. He roared in rage, dropping the stream of his Magick and rushing at me with his fists. His fangs glinted in the light of the moons and my blade ran through his chest.

He stared at me as blood began to run from his mouth. He coughed, sending red spittle to collide with my face. "You will die tonight," the Vampire warned, his eyes white. He looked much older, like a gray old man. "And after that, you will become what you secretly yearn to be."

My eyes widened and my fists shook in rage. The sword in the Count's chest began to tear chunks of his flesh away and he screamed in pain. "You know nothing!" I spat. I brought flames to my hand and tore my sword from his body. "And you will die knowing that everyone in your precious city will know what you are." I swung my blade down, tearing his head from his shoulders. I burned the rest of the body as I picked up the skull. I grabbed the staff, a beam of circular wood no taller than me with arcane sigils and art carved into the shaft.

"Ayleid!" Tanyin shouted as I entered. She smiled widely, bathed in blood. She, with shaking hands, dragged her knife across the throat of the last guard. She shook with glee as the woman gurgled and fell to her knees, clutching at her throat to try and stem the flow of blood. "Now can we kill the rest?"

I smiled and began to respond, only to be cut off by a loud horn echoing towards the city from outside. I growled to myself – our intel had been incorrect. I turned slowly and walked towards the window. In the distance was a dim, glowing fire. The Imperial Legion of the West Weald, led by one of the Insects' 'heroes' of the war. "You can. Be creative, do anything you think I'd be proud of," I told her. She smiled with anticipation. Tanyin was dead, it seemed, or quickly on her way to being such. She walked up to me and dragged her bloody hands across my cheeks before bringing me into a kiss, her bloody face pressing up against mine. Our tongues warred in animal passion until she let me go. I smiled darkly and licked the red fluid from my lips. "Have fun, Dwemer. I'll be back with the head of the Legion's general." I turned and jumped from the window, ready for some carnage.