A/N: Howdy. This story is a *loose* sequel to one of my fics, Wolves Will Be Wolves. It's not necessary to read it to understand this one. Not gonna lie, that one was mostly a shameless smut fic I wrote as a teenager that actually ended up having a stylistic flow I really liked. It wasn't supposed to have a sequel, but I got inspired one afternoon. Well, I never finished the first couple pages I started a few years ago, and then time did its thing, and I forgot about it. I found it again a couple months ago and decided to finish. So here we are.

A few things to note: this is a longboi fic as opposed to its prequel. There is a pairing, but unlike its predecessor, this fic doesn't have smut (sorry if that's what you're here for). That said, there is some *implied* smut much later on and some other mature themes, so we gotta keep it M here. There will be a major trigger warning later on, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Next, Bosmer can canonically live to be several centuries old. Aware that fifty-six is not old at all, but for the sake of my fic, we're gonna say lycanthropy is like the Taint from Dragon Age and makes your lifespan much shorter than normal. Yeah, that explains that.

I'll be interjecting here and there with some explanations of differences between this fic and canon and some other commentary, but other than that, let's do this thing!


These Immortal Coils

It's egregiously sunny when Destra leaves Jorrvaskr late that morning. Oh, the vampires are known for their loathing of the tyrant, but she finds that it can be equally igniting for one whose only remaining goddess rules the night's sky. Reluctantly, she steps from the safety of shadow into the breadth of its domain. She can barely believe that something she once revelled in could now seem so insidious. That is life, she thinks. She supposes. She acquiesces.

Jorrvaskr no longer feels like home. It could never feel as such again, not after Aela's passing. Destra still cannot bear her loss. It has been nearly three years, and the only reason she stayed in the old meadhall this long was to groom the next Harbinger. Now that Ria is ready, she can no longer stay in the place where her entire life with her wife was contained. She knows it's strange, when she thinks about it, that she can just walk away. Jorrvaskr has - had - been her home for thirty years, the Companions her family for just as long. But the sensibilities of steadiness seldom overpower the sentimentalities of grief.

Destra doesn't quite know where she's going when she steps outside of Whiterun. Alduin is long since defeated, and the best of her adventuring years, she knows, are behind her. The little grey hairs have become more prolific in recent years, most especially the last three. But while she still breathes, she will not remain idle. She will not stagnate in a depression brought on by the regrets of what she could have done.

Destra thinks it macabrely poetic that the vampires decide to descend upon Skyrim in the twilight of her life. She is old, she knows, but not too old to take up arms against her natural enemy. She is pleased to learn that she is not the only one. She encounters an agent of the Dawnguard in a tavern on the road to Riften. The orc is old, not as old as she is, but certainly no spring chicken. She admires him for his experience and dedication. Destra agrees to meet the leader of his faction, partly out of her respect for him, but mostly out of curiosity. She wonders what sort of man has the capability of mobilising an army against creatures of the night.

But Isran doesn't impress Destra as much as Durak does. He's hot-blooded and bitter, a combination she's seen far too many times in her years. When they meet, he does not seem impressed with her either. He asks if she can still swing a sword at her age. With an eye roll surely felt throughout Skyrim, she draws her twin blades and crosses them at his throat before he can finish his quip. She sees the surprise, uncertainty, and mild admiration pass through his eyes just as quickly. Then they harden again, and he tells her she'll "do." Destra allows him to see her smirk when he gives her her first assignment.

Dimhollow Crypt is just that to Destra - dim and hollow. She expects more than the four or five vampires she encounters on her way to the inner sanctum. She creeps over to the ledge of the balcony that oversees a massive cavern and spies two more of the creatures with their thralls. They study some sort of altar, and Destra knows whatever they are after resides there. She draws her new crossbow. Aela's lessons whisper in her ears as she takes aim. Keep both eyes open. Don't hold your breath until a moment before firing. Reload instead of watching where your shot lands. Everything she knows about archery comes from Aela. She makes sure all of her targets are down before she allows the emotion to come.

Destra is unamused by the puzzle game she has to play in order to access whatever it is the vampires are digging for, particularly when a spike hidden in the button she presses pierces her hand. She decides it's worth it, however, when the stone pedestal sinks and the floor opens to allow a tomb-like structure to surface. She's slightly startled when the structure opens abruptly. That is nothing compared to the shock she feels when a living woman stumbles out.

Destra is less surprised when the woman - Serana - tells her she's a vampire, even less so by the Elder Scroll on Serana's back. These things do have a way of finding the Bosmer woman. She thinks of the scroll she herself once used, the scroll safely under the supervision of the librarian at the College of Winterhold. She would very much like to know why this vampire was buried with such an intensely powerful artefact, but she is tactful enough to leave it alone for now. She has many other questions for the vampire as it is.

Destra asks Serana why she was locked in the crypt. Serana tells her it's complicated. She asks who she was expecting to release her. Serana tells her definitely not a vampire hunter. Her mother, maybe. She asks what her plans are now that she is free. Serana says she isn't sure, but she thinks she should go home. Get a lay of the land. Depending on who's there, her decision may be easy. To her continued surprise, Serana asks Destra if she can take her there.

Destra knows the Dawnguard would want her to kill Serana. She doesn't know anything about her save that she is old - ancient, it seems - and that she's the very thing Destra is supposed to destroy. Serana could very well mean harm, and she has an Elder Scroll to assist her. Still, Destra is too old to think the wisest action is to simply attack the other woman. So she agrees to take Serana home. And Serana is a charming one. Perhaps too charming. This makes Destra wonder if she's being enthralled. She decides to only speak to Serana when absolutely necessary. At least, that's what she tells herself.

Destra thinks it strange that she's never noticed the massive castle that is Serana's home before. It lies beyond a bay off the northeastern shore of Skyrim, a few miles from Solitude. She asks Serana if there is some spell that renders it unseeable. Serana grins and tells her that it's only visible to Volkihars and their companions. Destra compliments Serana and her family on their ingenuity and skill with enchantments. Serana's grin only widens under the privacy of her hood. They cross the bay on a small boat, and the gate guard eagerly ushers Serana into the castle courtroom.

The Volkihar clan is larger than Destra expects. Two tables line the great hall, both filled with vampires and their "meals." Destra is far from innocent in the consumption of flesh herself, but she never did so in her humanoid form, and certainly not while her prey screams in agony. She finds the sight rather disturbing.

The lord of the castle, Harkon, as Destra learns, greets his daughter ostentatiously and without affection. The Elder Scroll, on the other hand, he addresses quite warmly. Destra genuinely feels bad for Serana. The vampire woman, to her credit, only briefly notes her disappointment with her father before introducing Destra as the one who freed her. Harkon wrinkles his nose at her but catches himself and quickly affixes a false smile. He thanks Destra and offers her a gift - the bite of a vampire lord. Harkon tells her that the venom will still affect someone of her "condition." Before she can decline, he transforms. He remains predominantly human-like, but his skin becomes a pale grey-green, wings sprout from his back, and his face resembles that of a bat's more so than a man's.

Destra finds this form revolting. She finds his insolence even more so. She tells him that such a "gift" does not interest her. Harkon's disappointment is obvious first in his eyes. Serana moves in front of Destra to mitigate her father's rage, uncertain of how far he will go. But he simply tells Destra that she is a fool and that he will spare her once for the safe return of the scroll and his daughter, but she will be prey, like all mortals. He pushes Serana aside and casts a spell of displacement on the elven woman. She finds herself on the shore outside of the castle, dizzy but unharmed. She decides she will leave Serana and the scroll out of her report when she returns to Fort Dawnguard.

Destra is fifty-six years old. She knows she won't live forever. She is afraid to die, but not so afraid that she will betray her morals to abate that fear.