The clatter of dishes and the hollers of men filled the stone keep of Dawnguard Castle, filling the dreary halls with laughter and life. It was a peculiar affair, one that likely had never occurred before and would never occur again within these ancient, crumbling walls. The night's celebration was unique as well, the slaying of one Vampire Lord and the prolonged security of the sun itself. Few could claim to be noble defenders of this realm, even fewer could say their efforts protected the greatest fireball in all of existence, and as such the Dawnguard used this opportunity to find a brief reprieve from the months of stress and turmoil. A grand feast was held in the great hall of the keep, with nearly every seat at the sides of the tables filled with seasoned warriors who had defied death itself to feast with their friends. In his own experience, Bren hadn't seen a celebration this cheerful and full of mirth since his brief visit to Sovngarde all those years ago. The thought was both heartwarming and bone-chilling at once.
"-I truly haven't a clue what we would do without Isran." Gunmar bellowed, followed by a chorus of agreement from his fellow Dawnguard. Tankards were raised and sloshed about in honor of the Redguard man, who had shed his deeply sour demeanor for this night and replaced it with a smooth relaxation that could only be born of a job well done. In a rare showing of trust, the man had even let his guard down enough to sip on a bottle of ale, small as it was. Tonight was proving to be quite the historic event.
"Neither have I. You lot are still some of the sorriest souls I've met in my years," he mused, a fox-like grin splitting his features as he brought the bottle against his lips once more. When he saw the faces of his companions turn, he gave a slight grimace and shook his head. "Yet you're still the only ones worth a damn in this whole province. I thank you all for your service and contributions. You, who are the lifeblood of this organization. It is you who this victory is owed to."
That seemed to reassure their spirits, Gunmar being among the first to cheer and raise his tankard once more. The night had been filled with moments of uproar and drink clinking, and in truth Bren had grown a bit weary from it. The Dragonborn was no stranger to feasts in his honor, though they were usually with several people he hadn't the care to know nor the desire to speak with. At least here, surrounded by men and women who had bled with him on the shores of Volkihar Castle, he felt as though they had all earned this respite together.
"-I think the Dragonborn deserves at least part of the credit." came the shout from Sorine, far less sober than usual and twice as hard to understand. A round of chuckles circled the table but ended at the man in question, Bren simply shaking his head and raising his tankard to deflect the credit. "Aye, I'll take credit for driving the blade through his heart, but not for the countless victories you all have won so that I could get there. For that is your valor, and I own no part in it."
Cheers erupted once more as the small time heroes of the Dawnguard basked in what little respect they could get. It was all true of course, but few beyond the walls of this castle would ever know of the sacrifices made, of the lost souls and broken bones that had been bought to give the Dragonborn and Serana time to set a greater plan in motion.
Serana.
Bren tilted his head up from his seat and looked about the hall for a sign of the woman. She deserved some merriment more than anyone here, for she had suffered beyond what any of them could imagine. She had joined them for the beginning of the feast when people could still speak in full sentences and offer up their condolences and congratulations, but shortly after the mead had been emptied so too had Serana vanished. He ought to find her and see if she was doing alright. This whole affair had to be hard for her, to not only kill her father but to have to celebrate his death? It would prove difficult for anyone with a heart, regardless of mortality.
Normally he would find the table manners to excuse himself, but seeing his company Bren was quite sure none of them were coherent enough to notice him leave. Save for Isran, whom he offered a nod to which was reciprocated with a stern smile. That was about as close to an understanding gesture as the man was capable of.
Standing up and dusting off some bread crumbs from the front of his tunic, the Dragonborn set off to find his vampiric partner. If he knew her at all, she was likely doing the considerate thing by taking her grief away from the party to preserve the atmosphere, knowing fully well that it meant dealing with her pain on her own. He supposed that was only to be expected of the woman who had spent all of her waking hours being switched from hand to hand as though she were a pawn in a parent's game. Had he any experience with matters such as this, Bren would be more than willing to impart some vague wisdom and assurances on the thousand year old woman, but alas growing up an orphan tended to keep one from learning the intricacies of family matters.
Though he was somewhat tipsy, his Dragon-blood was more than capable of processing the fire in his veins and keep him standing straight and surefooted. His feet carried him towards the upper level of the keep, where the Lord's room and torture chamber were located. He had a sense he might find Serana in one of the spots, perhaps due to some sense of nostalgia for the time before this quest began and forced the two to become thick as thieves, but there was no trace of the raven-haired woman's presence in either. There was only one place he thought more fitting to find her, and that was in the great spire tower of the castle.
Creaking a dusty wooden door open, Bren was relieved to find her seated upon an aged seat beside a window to the courtyard below. Soft white light shone through as the moon illuminated the space before her, soaking her pale skin in tones brighter than he had ever seen her in. Her amber hued eyes lazily drifted towards his own, a breathtaking sight to any man worth his weight in Septims.
"Thought I might find you here," he explained, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway. Though he wasn't wearing any of his traveling gear nor armor, Bren was still well built enough to block most of the doorway and as a result, most of the candlelight spilling in from beyond the tower's door.
"The night is beautiful. It would be a shame to waste such a sight with drink."
"I wasn't aware that your kind could get drunk."
"I'm not sure I can. Never have I tried."
"I should hope you don't start trying now. Drink is not a friend of the wounded heart."
Much to her displeasure, the woman couldn't help but let a snort escape her. A slight gesture with her hand was the only invite Bren received to accompany her. She had never been one to state her intentions, too proud or regal or something of that nature, and often times made the man guess at what she wanted. It was a game he had slowly started to master, but to say he had honed this craft would be a lie. Whisper quiet footsteps brought him to the other seat at the ancient table, caked in dust yet still surprisingly comfortable. Without his presence, the door to the tower creaked shut, wrapping the pair in a satin coat of silence.
"Have I become so predictable? I could have sworn it would take longer for you to find me."
"I figured that this might remind you of the castle you were raised in."
"Indeed it does."
She had something she wished to say to him, that much was clear. Yet as was typical for the woman, she had a difficult time even admitting that to herself when it was so plainly obvious. She was lucky to be in such patient, understanding company. The man placed a hand atop the one she had left strewn over the table, tough leather-like flesh covering her smooth and delicate fingers. If one didn't know of the immense strength she wielded, it would be easy to presume her to be yet another lady of the court who had never once known a tough day of labor. The thought brought a faint smile to his lips.
"I won't ask a fool's question, I know what troubles you. Know that I'm here for you, as I have been since the beginning." He could feel the slight flinch in her hand, but she didn't pull away. A pain began to fill her eyes and she set her gaze elsewhere, anywhere but his own eyes to save what little remained of her dignity. A tilt of her wrist pressed her palm into his, fingers gripping his worn hand with a delicate trust.
"My father had died a long time ago. It was still very difficult to have to watch it happen. To take part in it." Her other hand gestured towards the door, no doubt referring to the celebrations below. "-To have to revere it among people who had once hated my very existence. Although he was not my father, at least when I returned to Castle Volkihar and spoke with him, I felt as though I had purpose. A cruel, vile purpose but a purpose nonetheless. With him gone..."
She needn't finish the thought. The look in her eyes when she turned back to face him was one of realization, a great irony that she was speaking about a lack of purpose to a man who had fulfilled his long ago. "Mm. You're not sure where you fit into this world that you've saved." He supplied, a knowing look about his features. A stiff nod was all the answer he needed.
The lightly bronzed hand above the nearly porcelain white squeezed just a tad as he nodded. "I think I've come to learn that purpose, belonging, all of that. We choose what our lives mean." There was a knowing pause as Bren's gaze softened. "Which is... Something you might not be very familiar with."
A small bout of laughter left Serana's lips, which she quickly covered with the back of her hand. It wasn't a joyous sound, but one born of misery and confusion that couldn't be processed in the mess of emotions she was dealing with. "All of my life, someone has told me what I'm meant to do. Where I'm supposed to go, what I should wear. It was all set out before me by people I thought I could trust." A shimmer in the corners of those morning colored eyes threatened to spill fresh tears, something Bren had never thought to witness from the woman. "Yet the only person who has ever given me a choice is you. And now that I have that choice- I have no idea what to do."
"Whatever you choose, I know you'll be exceptional," Bren answered, formerly gruff voice smoothed by the gentle affection he felt for the woman. They had grown closer than he'd ever imagined possible in the weeks that they'd traveled together, through the events that forged their bond. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her giggling in the Ancestor Glade, or with her brow firmly set as they stalked through the dark of the caves of Darkfall. "For now though, why don't we focus on getting you some rest. You've been through a lot these past few days. I can't imagine you've fed recently either."
Serana shut her eyes for a moment to level her breathing, lest she break out into shaking dry sobs. She would need to weep these sorrows away at some point, but it didn't seem that she was ready to fully drop her guard in a place such as this. Perhaps if they were somewhere safer, with fewer Vampire hunters around. "No, I haven't fed in... Nearly a week."
The reminder of her need made Bren subconsciously run his hand over his neck. She hadn't ever poked her fangs through the tender flesh of his neck region, but he couldn't help but feel a cold shiver run up his spine at the thought. Vampirism was not for him.
Rolling up the sleeve of his tunic, the Dragonborn released her hand offered the arm instead, looking at her with warm eyes and genuine concern. "Maybe that'll pick you up a bit then."
Unamused orange eyes stared him down for a moment as she debated whether or not to accept his kindness once more, but eventually the vampire relented and delicately lifted his wrist and brought it up to her lips. It was oddly soothing to watch a woman who could throw him through any one of these stone walls treat him with such delicacy, as though he were a flower plucked from a meadow. He did however avert his gaze when she stuck her fangs into his wrist and began to draw his blood, softly humming in satisfaction. It was an unspoken agreement to look away from each other while it happened, not out of some discomfort of the act but rather discomfort of the relationship variety. It was a strangely intimate act that never failed to leave both parties a few shades darker in the cheeks.
The potency of the Dragon blood that he carried was so strong that Serana was done with her feeding within the minute, sitting back with a dazed expression about her as she processed what was likely the most powerful blood in the realm. Bren had seen a very similar look upon the faces of some of the Khajit caravanners he worked with after a good dose of skooma. Perhaps he was moon sugar to Vampires. The thought was amusing enough that he felt he could get away with a tiny bit of teasing, even in her current state.
"You sure your kind doesn't get drunk? If you could see yourself right now, you'd rethink that."
"-Shut your mouth."
"Mature."
"As ever."
Rolling his sleeve down, the man gave a deep sigh of dissatisfaction as he looked over Serana once more. She was clearly going to have troubled sleep, if any tonight. It was a shame that there wasn't much more that he could to truly help her. She was just too damn considerate to open up and spill her emotions fully, keeping those feelings to herself to spare him the discomfort. It was as endearing as it was infuriating.
"I can't help you if you won't let me in Serana."
Her shoulders noticeably tensed, defenses immediately coming up as her features shifted into a frown. "It's not that simple." she retorted, though even her own voice sounded unconvinced.
"I know it isn't, but after everything we've been through? Couldn't be any harder than that."
A frustrated huff left the woman as she stood up from her seat, taking a few steps away from the table before turning to face the man with her arms crossed. "I know! I know. I just-" her arms raised and fell as she tried to put words to her thoughts, coming up empty for a few moments as she collected herself. "-Everyone I've ever trusted and cared for has ended up using me. I don't want to ever think that of you- I know you would never."
Bren's expression changed as she spoke, the understanding of her situation dawning upon him. Still he remained silent as she finished expressing herself. "I just can't help but worry that you'll end up just like them. My parents. And I don't know if I could handle that." She realized that at some point during her monologue that her hands had started shaking and her breathing was wild and frantic, much like a beast in a corner. Before she could process the wetness in her eyes, Bren was already gliding across the room and pulling her into those arms of his, the ones that smelled of steel and leather and smoke. She buried her face in his tunic and softly wept at the mere thought of him betraying her. The man who had become her closest friend, her lone confidant, her pillar of strength.
Warm hands ran up her spine and rubbed small circles into her back as his rumbling voice murmured some sweet assurances that none of that would ever come to pass. Serana was much more interested in listening to his heartbeat as she dried her tears in the fabric of his shirt, the steady thumping rhythm reminding her that the man had far greater strength of character than either of her parents. With little more than the word 'please', he had sprung at the opportunity to help her every step of their journey together. Why couldn't she see that kindness when fear overtook her heart?
"I'm sorry." she murmured as she pulled away, pristine pale fingers wiping the corners of her eyes as she eased back into a vaguely proper stance. "I should go find my bed," was all she supplied as she tried to slink past the Dragonborn and avoid having to embarrass herself any further tonight. A light grip on her bicep stopped her as the two locked eyes once more, dark brown meeting her fiery orange irises.
"Take my bed. I'll sit by your side and make sure nobody gets any ideas." Bren was entirely aware that she was far too on edge in the Castle to ever get some proper sleep on her own. Despite her claims that a thousand years had been enough, he could see in the way that she carried herself that she was in desperate need of a good few hours of peaceful sleep. Her brow lifted a bit at the proposal, knowing that if she shot it down that neither of them would be happy. She owed it to the man to at least hear him out. "What about you?"
"Oh I'll just catch up on sleep when we get to Riften tomorrow morning."
"We're going to Riften?"
"Well we ought to stop in Riften while we're passing through."
"Hold on, when did we decide we were traveling again?"
"A few minutes ago when you said that you felt without purpose. I figured I'd give you something to do and we can work it out from there."
"So much for my choice."
At that Bren gave a proper laugh. "So you'd rather stay with our friends here?"
A moment of pause was quickly followed up with a curt negative.
"Please, just go rest for a bit okay Serana? You need it."
Much to her dismay, Serana found herself shuffling down the great many steps of the tower and being lead towards the room reserved for the Dragonborn. It was the least depressing space in all of the castle, with various furs and bins and barrels and all sorts of things lining the walls. A large bed was the centerpiece of the room, green sheets and pristine white pillows. The Dawnguard spared no expense for the man who barely ever slept here, it would seem. Reluctantly, she found herself removing her cloak and boots and settling beneath the covers, her bright eyes piercing the dark of the keep and staring out at Bren as he settled into a chair not too far from her future sleeping place.
A sudden urge to make some amends for all that she'd put him through this night forced her mouth open as she softly spoke through the veil of shadow. "You're making me feel bad just sitting there like a gargoyle. Get over here already." her tone was far from apologetic, but it conveyed her shame well enough. Bren considered denying her request, but the bed was large enough for them both to fit comfortably and with a respectful distance between them. Furthermore, as much as he wanted to do Serana this kindness, he was truly dead tired after the trip to Castle Volkihar.
Like a sick dog, Bren quietly padded his way over to the other end of the bed that he owned, slipping out of his boots and stuffing himself under the covers without a word. Some part of his mind hoped that Agmaer would keep his nose firmly in his oats the following morning instead of coming up at finding a sight worth gossiping about, but Bren knew that was folly. This was going to be reaching the ears of everyone in the castle save for the two dogs.
A cold hand latched onto Bren's torso, soon followed by the rest of the woman as she scooted closer beneath the covers and rested her head against his chest. Bren's eyes went wide for a moment as he tackled this new reality, seeing Serana so vulnerable for once and actively showing some affection. Wordlessly he brought his arm around her elegant form, hand resting on her waist as it seemed like the safest place to return the embrace. A small heat rose to his cheeks as he settled in to this position, mentally reminding himself that she was simply hurting and hadn't been shown any kind of affection in centuries. Small wonder that she needed a set of arms that she trusted around her tonight. Tomorrow morning she would likely deny that she'd ever been in this bed.
Soft breaths played along his tunic as the vampire finally passed out, her small hands firmly gripping the fabric as though it was keeping her anchored against a storm. Bren ran his free hand over her head, brushing her hair until his fingers ran into the intricate braids and stopped. Her grip relaxed just a tiny bit. A pensive smile crossed his face. She smelled of something sweet, natural but strong. It was likely something alchemical. He wasn't sure of much other than the fact that he liked it, and that it was soothing his nerves and letting sleep close in around the corners of his vision.
He hoped that he'd remember these moments. So few memories were quite so sweet.
Authors Notes: Well well, it appears we meet again. I've recently gotten into Skyrim and after running through the Dawnguard DLC I absolutely adore Serana, but always felt the deepest sadness that once the quest is over, she becomes nothing more than a weather-hating robot. I am to fix that to some degree by continuing her story. I've read a lot of fics that re-tell the story of the quest so I figured I'd start somewhere a little different and pick up right after the death of Harkon. I will likely have segments that flashback to events of the quest, but by now everyone knows the general outline of the events that lead to the death of the Vampire Lord so I won't go into painful detail.
As always, please let me know what you think of this fic! And do harass me to continue it because I have a nasty habit of forgetting about and then never finishing a great number of my stories. Stay tuned for more chapters.