The new horses get them to Fort Dawnguard in four days. Isran is there to receive them, immediately asking if they found the bow. Destra rolls her eyes and tells him they have. She did not miss the man, but she supposes she can't fault him his focus. His eyes widen in what Destra assumes is the closest thing to glee he is capable of when she shows him the bow. He says they're ready, then. Ready for an assault on Castle Volkihar. Ready to end this.
The fort bursts to life as weapons are prepared, wagons are loaded, horses are saddled, and soldiers are mobilised. Destra and Serana help where they can. By the time most of the preparations are complete, Celann, Sorine, and Gunmar all look ragged. Isran announces that they march at dawn. Destra joins a few of her comrades in a drink but excuses herself a bit early when she notices Serana isn't nearby. She knows Serana is a grown woman and she needn't worry so much, but she does anyway.
She finds Serana on the roof of the fort in the same place they spoke all that time ago. She sits next to the vampire.
"Thought I'd find you up here," Destra says. Serana smiles at the elf, but Destra can tell it's only for her benefit. "Septim for your thoughts."
"Sorry, didn't mean to take you away from the others. I'm okay. You should go back," Serana says. Destra puts an arm around her, and she lays her head on Destra's shoulder.
"C'mon, talk to me."
"Just thinking about the assault on the castle. And my father again," Serana sighs.
"You don't have to face him. The Dawnguard will keep the rest busy while I… you know." Serana considers it for a moment.
"It's tempting. But I think that would be worse. I need to talk to him one last time. Be sure there wasn't anything I could have done." Destra squeezes her shoulders.
The wind hisses in their ears as it heralds a fresh snowfall. By the morning, the valley will be covered in a soft blanket. Destra does not envy the soldiers camping below. She watches as a group huddles around a fire at the base of the fort's hill. Some play cards, others drink and talk. Some do all three. She smiles until she remembers that some of them won't return. She wonders how many have spouses, children, homes. She wonders how many don't.
Serana notices Destra's own pensive mood. She isn't certain if it's on her behalf or because of something else entirely. But she's known Destra long enough to know that she'll talk about it if she needs to. It's something she admires about the other woman - her emotional openness. Serana never was very good at talking about her feelings. Why should she be? She had no friends or siblings to confide in growing up, and gods know her parents were worse than she. But now she has Destra to learn from, practice with. And so she does.
"Destra?"
"Hm?"
"I love you."
"…I love you too."
The first snowflake lands on their noses as they share a kiss under the light of the moon.
—
It takes the Dawnguard nearly a week to reach the shore before Castle Volkihar's bay. Because of Serana's presence, the Guard can see through the enchantment. Unfortunately, this also means the Volkihar Clan will see them coming more quickly. They camp atop the mountain while they prepare makeshift dinghies for crossing over. At nightfall, they move the boats to the shore and hide them behind snowbanks. They will attack during the day so that the vampires who meet them outside are at their weakest.
Isran, Sorine, Gunmar, Celann, Serana, and Destra stand around a table in Isran's tent. Upon it is a crude model of the castle.
"Alright, vampire. You know better than any of us how many of your lot is holded up in there," Isran says.
"At least thirty by my last visit. Maybe more, maybe fewer, depending upon who pissed off whom and how many have been initiated for all this. But only fifteen or so are old enough to be real trouble," Serana answers.
"Celann, how many do we have now?"
"Forty-seven, room included," he tells Isran.
"Gunmar, how many hounds?"
"Ten battle-ready."
"We have one hundred and six healing potions and poultices, several crates of bandages, and fifty general antidotes," Sorine chimes in before Isran can ask. He grunts in response.
"Right. Are we all clear on the plan, then?" he says. Each confirms. "We attack at dawn."
Destra is fifty-six years old. She knows she won't live forever. She still has one last battle in her before she goes.