Chapter 17 - Redemption


-OZPIN'S (FORMER) OFFICE, THREE HOURS BEFORE THE TRIUMPH-

"Hey Jaune..." Ruby Rose said with a sad smile, ignoring the petrified Grimm Wyvern glaring down at her in the light of the broken moon.

The wind howled around her in response, whipping through the ruined clock tower, as she placed the bouquet of yellow roses down at the makeshift plaque by her feet. It wasn't much, just a rock covering a bloodstain with a chip of metal on it, but with the Grimm hordes still being drawn to the tower, it was the best she could do.

"So... we found out who the true mastermind was, behind the Fall of Beacon."

Silence.

"Turns out the Grimm had a queen all along! Crazy, right?!"

Silence.

"Yup! It is just like something out of a fairytale! Anyway, Ozpin- I guess I should be calling him Oscar now- he's preparing us for an attack on Salem's castle."

Silence.

"Oh, right. Your team's been working with us for the past few years, and we picked up a few people, after Atlas fell."

Silence.

"Nora finally got together-together with Ren, you know? And apparently your team ran into some of your family, in Argus! Pyrrha tried returning your sword, too..."

Silence.

"Oh, right, here's the unbelievable part! Pyrrha's family, your family, and Cardin's family, they commissioned a statue of you in Argus! Crazy, right? To commemorate a true hero..."

A tear hit the rock below her, and Ruby blinked, as she finally felt the heat in her eyes, and the wetness on her cheeks. She hastily rubbed them off.

"... they invited me, you know. But I couldn't be there. I... I just couldn't face your family, not when it's my fault you're gone."

More tears.

"... it's been so long..." Ruby sniffed. "If only you were still here... you weren't the best student, sure, but you were a lot better at plans than I ever was. Maybe... maybe if it had been me, instead of you... you could have figured out a way to save Atlas..."

The howls of Grimm could faintly be heard in the distance, as the new inhabitants of the ruins of Beacon picked up her negativity.

"Why... damn it, why?! Why did you have to take that hit for me?!" Frustration tinged Ruby's voice now, and she couldn't help but clench her fist. "It should have been me! I went up there to save you, not the other way round! And I still had Aura; I would have been fine! We had so many things planned, so much stuff to do after the Vytal Festival! Why did you have to leave me alone?!"

The sobs came now, as she once again remembered what had happened at that spot. The relief of seeing him alive, followed by the numb shock of seeing him fall, which had slowly turned to horror as the realization hit. Kneeling down, she gingerly touched the metal piece, chipped off his breastplate when he'd saved her.

"I'm sorry." Ruby finally choked out, before softly repeating: "It should have been me... it should have been me..."

The howls grew louder, and the sound of heavy footfalls could be heard in the distance now. She continued to ignore it, as she thought back to him. His goofy smile and dorky nature, gone from Remnant forever. All because she'd been too weak, too slow.

Her grip tightened around Crescent Rose, as the first of the Beowulfs made their way to the top of the clock tower. She was tempted to take her anger and frustrations all out on them, but she knew there wouldn't be a point to it. The Grimm would keep coming, would keep flocking to the dragon, as long as Salem was alive. No, right now, she needed to save her energy for the upcoming battle. There'd be time to reclaim the Kingdom of Vale later, to reclaim Beacon... to finally build a proper memorial.

Instead, she gripped the Relic of Creation, and used it to create a portal back to where Ozpin's forces were resting, just out of view of Salem's castle.

Before she left, though, she took one last look back at the last thing she had to remember her first friend, and swore that, no matter what, she would stop Salem. No matter what, that monster wouldn't be responsible for any more missing mothers or dead dorks. No matter what, there wouldn't ever be another Fall.

-CASTLE VOLKIHAR, DURING THE SIEGE-

A tower was on fire again, and Jaune Arc was fighting an uncomfortably-familiar feeling.

"Keep going!" Isran barked, his voice barely audible over the din of battle, waving at Castle Volkihar with a brandish of his warhammer. "We're almost at the gate!"

A raucous war cry rose up from behind him, and the Companions belted ancient traditional songs of glory, of battle, as they charged forward like a stampede.

For what felt like the millionth time in five minutes, Jaune raised his shield, easily blocking a wild swing from one of the hundreds of undead between him and the castle, before slashing at its neck as he continued moving forward, decapitating the former human. He'd been shocked, when the counter attack had first begun; he knew the vampires had some interest in necromancy, looking at Serana and her mother, and he'd known that the Volkihar Clan had been around for centuries, and would have had a body count to match.

He just hadn't realized what a veritable tide of undead would look like until it had borne down upon the Companions' shieldwall, a wave of bone and blood and rotting flesh.

However, while they easily outnumbered the Dawnguard-Companion strike force by over twenty-to-one, they were significantly less dangerous than an armless Beowulf, even though they could wield weapons, and after Jaune had gotten over the initial shock, he'd begun hacking and slashing his way through the horde with his new dragonbone sword, their bodies offering little resistance to his blade.

No, the true danger posed by the undead lay in their ability to bog them down with numbers, to surround and cut off individual fighters, so that the gargoyles could swoop in from the flanks, or to simply hold them in place for the vampires to launch Destruction spells at their formation.

So far, though, the vampires hadn't had much luck. The Dawnguard's opening volley had included explosive crossbow bolts (he still had no idea how they'd done it, and he'd almost fallen asleep when they'd tried explaining), and they'd specifically targeted the castle's turrets to stop the vampires from using their defensive positions. The gargoyles had been an unwelcome surprise, the statues lining the bridge having burst to life when they were in the middle of the bridge and already engaged in combat, but the Dawnguard were disciplined, and they maintained their lines.

A screech in front of him alerted him to far more dangerous foes on the bridge; the zombies and skeletons were stiff and unskilled, and while the gargoyles were strong and fast, they were animalistic, relying on instinctive cunning rather than battle plans and tactics. The creatures rushing down the bridge, however, were pure-blooded Volkihar, daedra-blessed creatures of prodigious skill, each with experience easily thrice as long as Jaune's entire life, and they knew it.

That confidence was their fatal flaw. The Companions fought giants, the Dawnguard were specialized in fighting vampires (not to mention most members were ex-Vigilants or hunters), and Jaune and Yang had fought numerous Volkihar kill-teams in the month or so that they'd been helping Serana.

Aela quickly stabbed her dagger into the eye of one, lobotomizing it, before stepping back as she drew her bow, and putting an arrow into it's other eye. Isran's enchanted warhammer easily crushed the armor, ribcage, and organs of a second. Sorine's crossbow fired an exploding bolt into the mouth of a third as it howled at her. Farkas and Vilkas worked together, one brother parrying a vampire's sword away, while the other chopped off it's limbs. Njada Stonearm lived up to her name, her shield not even budging as she blocked the axe of an attacker, and Ria decapitated it as it struggled to remove it's weapon. Skjor and Kodlak, veterans of hundreds of battles across Tamriel, proved why they still led the Companions, despite their advanced age and numerous scars, as the pair killed a dozen vampires and gargoyles in as many seconds. Celann blocked an incoming Thunderbolt with a ward, before burning the offending vampire with a burst of magical sunlight.

Jaune had seen the older students and the teachers in action, during the Breach and the attack on Beacon, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the Companions and the Dawnguard around him, even as he subconsciously reacted to the movements around him, raising his shield to intercept a furious swipe by a vampire charging at him, while he leaned forward, and swung his sword horizontally under his shield, drawing blood and buying himself space.

Before he could seize the opportunity to counter-attack, however, a fiery blur landed in front of him, crushing the vampire. Jaune tried to ignore the smell of burning blood and viscera as he nodded at Yang in gratitude. She grinned at him widely in response, before gripping the head of an unfortunate zombie that had wondered into her arm's reach. Jaune couldn't help but wince as she smashed it's head into the ground, before gripping a leg and using it to flail the body around at some nearby zombies.

He sighed, more than used to her effective brutality by now, as she cleared a path through the rapidly-diminishing horde. After all, the Yang of his world was just as brutal, and Nora was arguably more destructive (since she had access to explosives and Dust). Movement ahead of them spurred him into action, and he was already moving to cover Yang as the vampire mage in front of them finished channeling magicka into his spell, and the shard of ice shattered against his shield, the fragments bouncing off harmlessly against his Aura.

Yang didn't waste any time, nodding at him even as she threw the body at the vampire, who to his credit quickly deflected it with a swipe of his claw. He wasn't fast enough to block the second body, however, as Yang leapt at him, and he howled in pain as her Flame Cloak burned his undead flesh before she crushed his skull. Jaune pretended he didn't hear her laughing wildly as she had charged away; he honestly couldn't tell if Yang enjoying battle was just a Yang thing, or if it was a Nord thing. He couldn't remember Yang ever laughing like that when she had been called upon to spar with Pyrrha, but then again she had never won a battle against his partner.

Idly, even as he instinctively butchered his way across the final stretch before the gate, chopping through the assorted undead with his sword, he couldn't help but think back to his world, his friends. He wondered how they'd react to seeing him now, with his new sword, and everything he'd been through. Pyrrha would probably just be pleased to see him again (after she scolded him for sending her to safety), and she'd probably demand a round with him, to see how much he'd improved. Between his experience and his non-metallic weapon, he felt he could have probably survived for at least ten minutes. Nora and Ren would probably be more interested in the adventures he'd had, though he had fun imagining Nora's face when he told her there were no pancakes in Skyrim. And Ruby? She'd almost definitely be fascinated by his new weapon, and especially the material it was made of. Most of all, since this wasn't a family heirloom... he steeled himself mentally, imagining Ruby's puppy dog eyes as she begged him to let her help him install mecha-shift technology on his sword. He'd only survived her attempts this long because Crocea Mors wasn't really his sword...

"Gunmar!" Isran bellowed, and Jaune's conscious mind snapped back to his current battle. He hadn't realized they were already at the gates; his body had been on autopilot as he'd followed Yang's lead across the bridge. It was probably for the best. He didn't want to imagine the smell right now, or think about how sore he'd be once the adrenaline wore off. Serana, having been at the rear the whole time, jogged up to the gate, and quickly fired her strongest Flames and Frost spells at the gate, weakening the portcullis with the temperature shock.

Somewhere behind him, a war horn blew, and he faintly heard the sound of iron rattling, before they were replaced by heavy footfalls. The Dawnguard had told him about them, about how, even though they were well-trained, they were still wild beasts and, thus, had to be restrained during the journey, just in case they were agitated. Seeing them in action now, he could definitely see the wisdom in it, as a pair of angry armored trolls charged down the bridge.

The gate, built in ancient times, had been built to withstand multiple impacts from a relatively light log, relying on the fact that it was a small island shrouded by fog to stop enemies from sending anything heavier (or bombarding it from the sea).

Between centuries of neglect and exposure to the sea breeze, and Serana's spells, it didn't stand a chance against the armored trolls.

The Dawnguard-Companion coalition wasted no time in exploiting the breach, rushing through the battered gate before the vampires could box them in. Jaune went with them, hearing their screams of rage as they bore witness to the same sights he had, when he'd first entered Castle Volkihar. Living people lying on the tables, reduced to little more than mindless blood bags for the court. The serving thralls suicidally tried attacking them, tried hitting them with their platters and goblets. They didn't even have enough of a mind to defend themselves, as they too were cut down swiftly. Jaune could only think of it as a mercy.

It was certainly more than Dawnguard and Companions showed the vampires, whipped into a righteous fury as they were. They'd seen themselves as on a moral crusade for the fate of Tamriel, but this was the first time they'd seen just what was in store for them if they lost.

Harkon's court were the strongest of the pure-blooded vampires, wielding ancient weapons known only in legends, skilled in many forms of magic and combat lost to time, with enhanced strength and speed to match. In the narrow confines of the castle, with only theoretical defensive plans that dated back centuries, against modern vampire hunters who'd been fighting them for months and a band of warriors who could trace their history to the first Men in Skyrim, it was an even fight.

Jaune, Yang, Isran, and Serana didn't join in with the mopping up operations. Instead, as the castle shook from a half-dozen different engagements, they gathered around what Serana had identified as the castle's cathedra. Harkon hadn't been present when they'd landed, when they'd fought through the bridge, and when they'd stormed the castle. They didn't know why, but this was the other likeliest spot he would have been holed up in (according to Serana). Either way, with his forces isolated and decimated, it was their best chance to take him out, before he could assist his court, or his court come to his aid.

Jaune felt himself unconsciously bracing, as Serana reached for the pull chain for the gate separating the cathedral from the rest of Castle Volkihar, and he saw her hand tense up slightly around the chain. Yang noticed the moment of hesitation too, but felt it was kinder not to say anything. After all, Serana had spoken about her thoughts, her doubts, when it came to facing her father, and Yang trusted that Serana would do the right thing. As quickly as it had come, Serana found her nerve, and she pulled the chain down. As the iron gate slowly rose with a rumble, she briefly looked back at Jaune, who returned the look, trying to see if she was fine.

Serana took comfort in the presence of her friends, the ones who'd been with her since she'd woken up, but she only briefly nodded, before reaching for the doors. Jaune's naive innocence, his seemingly unending belief in the inherent goodness of people... she knew that she couldn't indulge in it. If she did, she'd have lost her resolve, and tried to redeem the monster that her father had become, even though she knew that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her and her friends, for the sake of his precious prophecy. It had almost happened once, when her grip had loosened on Vyrthur's neck. She grit her teeth at the thought, both of losing her father, and of him killing her friends because of her, before resolving herself once more, and purposefully swinging the doors of the Volkihar Cathedral open.

The first thing Yang noticed, when they burst into the cathedral, was the grey vampire floating in the middle of the room, looking for all the world like it was bored. The second thing she noticed, though, was the smell. Serana had told them that the cathedral was where her father baptized potential recruits into his court, a process that few were strong enough to survive. She felt like gagging, as the smell of five centuries of accumulated failure hit her nose, and she saw Jaune's knuckles whiten around his sword as he noticed the smell, the piles of bones in the corner, and come to the same conclusion she had. As the four closed in on Harkon, he smiled affably at his daughter, and in a tone like he was inviting them for tea, he said: "Serana, my darling. I see you still favor keeping pets."

"You know why we're here." Serana spat back at him, ignoring her father's jab. She hadn't even wanted to speak to him, but he'd given her the opportunity to distract him, to buy time for the others to surround him.

"Of course I do." Harkon answered in his usual condescending tone, before shaking his head and continuing, somehow sounding genuinely hurt: "You disappoint me, Serana. You've taken every thing I've provided for you and thrown it all away for these... pathetic beings."

"Provided for me?" Serana repeated, incredulous. "Are you insane? You've destroyed our family. You've killed other vampires. All over some prophecy that we barely understand. No more. I'm done with you. You will not touch them."

"So, I see this dragon has fangs." Harkon remarked in an amused tone, though pride shone clearly in his eyes, much to the disgust of everyone else in the room. Disappointment then filled his voice, as he chastised: "Your voice drips with the venom of your mother's influence. How alike you've become."

"No..." Serana's eyes hardened as she remembered her mother, what she'd had her sacrifice. She locked gazes with her father, who flinched slightly, surprised by her sudden defiance. "Because unlike her, I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore."

Harkon turned away from her, and instead looked at Jaune and Yang, who'd been trying to subtly flank him. They tensed up as he looked them over, before finally saying: "You two... it appears I have you to thank for turning my daughter against me. I knew it was only a matter of time before she'd return with hatred in her heart."

"Us?" Jaune was shocked by the sheer audacity of Harkon's statement.

"Your daughter hates you because you don't care about her." Yang pointed out drily.

"Of course I care about her. She knows I do." Harkon boasted, ignoring the scoffs of outraged disbelief from Serana, Jaune, and Yang. "But sacrifices had to be made, for the betterment of our kind."

"Your "kind" is a blight upon this world." Yang spat back.

"Yes, yes. Always the noble vampire hunters." Harkon brushed her words aside, and rhetorically asked: "And what happens when you've slain me? Is Valerica next? Is Serana?"

"This is about more than just killing vampires." Jaune stated firmly.

"Ah, of course. The prophecy. You've come here to stop me from taking Auriel's Bow and shrouding the world in darkness."

There was a moment of silence, as the room processed the bombshell he'd dropped. Finally, Yang found her voice: "How... how do you know about Auriel's Bow?"

"I've always known about the full prophecy." Harkon said impatiently, although a smirk grew on his face as he didn't miss a chance to gloat. "Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise. In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one. The Blood of Coldharbor's Daughter will blind the eye of the Dragon... am I right? Valerica didn't take the two scrolls in time to prevent me from learning about it, no matter how much she desperately believed and hoped she did, oh no. She took them from me so that I wouldn't be able to find out where Auriel's Bow was, or the ritual required to taint the bow... just as she took Serana from me and hid herself so I wouldn't be able to use their blood to carry out the ritual."

"What... what is wrong with you?" Jaune asked in disbelief, before righteous fury overtook his shaking voice. "How can you stand there so proudly, boasting about the fact that you've always known you'd need to murder your wife or your daughter?!"

"Like I said, sacrifices had to be made, for the betterment of our kind." Harkon shook his head, like he was talking to a particularly slow child, and he continued unrepentantly: "I'm sure the old Serana, at least, would have agreed."

An enraged Jaune finally lost his temper, and before Yang or Serana could react he was already charging forward, sword raised high. Isran, who'd made his way to one of the cathedral's upper floors, chose to use Jaune's distraction as a chance to leap down, swinging his hammer at the floating vampire.

The pair's attack failed to connect, as Harkon's body split into a cloud of fluttering bats, and mocking laughter rang out from all around them as Harkon slowly reformed above them, unharmed and unfazed by the attack. Before they could try a second time, the gargoyle statues in the room burst to life, and reanimated skeletons began crawling out of the piles of bones and dead bodies, which then attempted to drown the vampire hunters in a wave of bone and stone.

Of course, the four experienced warriors easily crushed the wave within seconds. Gargoyles were only about as strong as Beowulfs, and they didn't come in packs. But it still cost them a precious few seconds, and by the time they turned back to Harkon, he had covered himself in a shield of red-tinged energy.

Serana cursed, recognizing the spell; she doubted that even Yang with Jaune's sword could do more than chip away at it, not with how much power it had stored. And if she hadn't missed her guess, her father would just keep reanimating skeletons to throw at them, until her mortal companions finally tired and fell. Unless...

"Jaune!" Serana called out, even as she blasted a newly-risen skeleton with a bolt of lightning. "Use Auriel's Bow!"

Jaune blinked, not expecting to be put on the spot, and asked: "How?"

"What do you mean, how?!" Yang cried out. "Use it to shoot one of the arrows that snow elf gave us!"

"I've never used a bow in my life!"

Yang, Serana, and Isran blinked, taken aback. Finally, Yang found her voice: "Weren't you a hunter-in-training!"

"I told you, not that kind of hunter!" Jaune replied, even as he sheathed his sword and took out Auriel's Bow. The way he held it, though, made it clear that he genuinely had never handled a bow before. Jaune, for his part, tried desperately to remember how that fire witch had used her bow.

Harkon, of course, noticed Jaune's inexperience, and couldn't resist the chance to seize the bow. With a gesture, he lowered his shield, and flew towards Jaune as fast as he could, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

Jaune yelped in shock and instinctively swung the bow like a cudgel, subconsciously channeling his Aura into it as he did so.

Harkon might have been able to easily dodge the awkward blow, if not for Yang, who'd leapt to intercept him as soon as he'd made his move. Harkon was a daedrically-empowered pure-blooded vampire lord with centuries of experience. Yang was a trained brawler, at the peak of her physical prime, and an awakened Dragonborn, having already devoured a dragon's soul.

She was just fast enough to charge into his side, smashing him to the ground, before his claws could reach Jaune's neck. A heartbeat later, Auriel's Bow, it's divine enchantment activated by Jaune's Aura, struck Harkon in the forehead.

The results were instantaneous and impressive, and Harkon screamed in pain like a damned soul, as the area around the bow began burning away, the concentrated sunlight turning his ancient flesh to flakes of ash.

Like a wounded animal, Harkon instinctively thrashed about, sending both Jaune and Yang flying away from him, but the damage had been done, and Harkon could only flail about blindly, his eyes no more, before Isran crushed what was left of his head with his warhammer, and put a crossbow bolt through his heart.

There was a long silence, as the four watched Harkon's ruined body crumble to dust, before, in a heavy voice, Serana finally spoke: "... well, now that's done."

"Good job, boy." Isran said gruffly, clapping Jaune on the shoulder. "Luring him out with that act of incompetence..."

Jaune, Yang, and Serana hid their winces, knowing that it hadn't been an act, and Yang shot Jaune a look. Jaune coughed, and determinedly changed the subject, awkwardly asking Serana: "So... what will you do now?"

"I'm not sure..." Serana replied, looking around. "Maybe I'll fix up my room, maybe I'll get my mother out of the Soul Cairn... it's just hard to believe it's finally over, you know?"

"It's over." Isran confirmed, prodding the pile of ashes with his boot, before clearing his throat, and looking at Serana. "He's dead, and the prophecy dies with him. I... I suppose this is difficult for you."

"I think my father really died a long time ago." Serana admitted, too drained and surprised to give the old vampire hunter her usual sarcasm. "This was just... the end of something else. I did what needed to be done. Nothing more."

"I think perhaps... I think you did more than that. You have my thanks." Jaune and Yang gawked, both at the idea of the paranoid old Isran actually thanking a vampire hunter, and the fact that he sounded like he was experiencing physical pain from it.

"Really now... don't mention it... ever." Serana said, ending the conversation, and Isran nodded. Turning to the two friends that had been with her since the beginning, she asked: "So, Jaune, Yang... got any more adventures planned?"

Yang looked over at Jaune, and remembered Martin's words. Shrugging, she easily answered: "I was thinking of heading to Kynesgrove, take a short vacation."

"What does Kynesgrove have?" Jaune interjected curiously.

Yang bit her lip, wondering how to answer. Jaune needed the rest; she didn't want to burden him with the knowledge that there might be a clue about the return of the dragons there (and she didn't even know what the clue looked like, since Martin had been exceedingly vague on that), lest he decide to turn the place upside down himself. Fortunately for her, Isran spoke up, a trace of amusement in his tone: "An out-of-the-way inn, eh?"

Yang fought down a flush at Isran's implications, and considered herself twice-blessed when the dense Jaune completely missed the point, looked at her with a mock frown, and teasingly chastised her: "Don't go drinking too much and breaking too much, Yang..."

Playing along, she grinned, and laughed: "Come on, Vomit Boy, relax a bit! We just saved the world!"


Author's Note: And I'm finally alive... sorry for the late chapter, but I couldn't figure out how to start this one, and ended up rewriting it a few times. Also, I fell sick, and I tried to do a Hearts of Iron IV achievement run... as a South American country. I think I just went catatonic for the last few dozen hours of that run...

The Remnant section was an unplanned last minute addition I did just before putting out this chapter. Originally, I wrote it so that it would have taken place just after Atlas fell into Mantle... but as I tried writing that, I realized I had no time (or interest) in watching Volume 8, seeing how it happens in canon, and figuring out how things would differ with the changes I'd made. So I deleted that part, and originally planned on just leaving it out. But, well... I suddenly figured out I could do it this way, while I was sleeping after work...

And yes, Ruby's just embellishing her memories and glorifying the dead. That's kind of what people do.

From Harkon's perspective, he's spent the past 500 years carrying out subterfuge, enthralling key bloodlines, and installing spies and puppets throughout Skyrim's high society, and looking for Serana, while waiting for the key moment (the return of the dragons) to actually carry out the prophecy. However, all Serana says (and thus, all the Dawnguard would know) is that he heard of some prophecy, and got obssessed with it. From the Dawnguard's perspective, they threw so much into finding the scrolls, rather than just fighting the vampires, so that they would know the full prophecy, and the key items needed for each, while Harkon wouldn't. If not, why would Harkon just be looking for scrolls, when he could have spent 500 years turning over every rock in Tamriel, looking for Auriel's Bow? Hence why they're all so surprised when he reveals he's known the full prophecy all along. Is this depiction canon? I have no clue... but I'm using it for this story.

And for anyone who might complain Harkon died to a cheap shot... well, what else could he do? He saw the prime opportunity to seize Auriel's Bow from the Dawnguard, with it being held by someone who didn't know how to use it, while everyone else was mildly distracted. If he'd seized it, all he'd need to do after that is get some of Serana's blood onto the bow, and then he could have escaped by turning into a cloud of bats (something vampire lords can do in-game). Hell, he doesn't even actually need Serana's blood; he can just make another Daughter of Coldharbour. He just underestimated Yang's protectiveness, and that Auriel's Bow would hurt him so much by being used as a club.