A/M: I'm not super hot about the Soul Cairn quests, and they aren't really relevant to the story, so I'm not gonna spend time on them. Sorry if you like creepy chaotic realms and their needy hoes. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Destra stares into the chasm that is the portal to the Soul Cairn. In a single moment, a thousand and one memories flash before her eyes. Red hair and a toothy grin - joy. A meadhall and a petty squabble - laughter. A great axe and an old warrior's spirit at peace - honour. A little girl and her brand new home - true love. A headsman and a bloodied block - fear. A great dragon and a portal to the afterlife - apprehension. White hair and an unyielding illness - sorrow. A loving daughter and a callous mother - regret. Ebony hair and pearly fangs - curiosity.
All of these things are before Destra as she silently prays for an answer. But like all of her prayers, she is left to find the solution on her own. She knows this is not a death sentence - that judgement was passed long ago. But it is just as, no, it is far more important. Her only reprieve from the heartaches of this life is the thought that one day, she will be reunited with those she's lost. With Aela.
But now, no matter which path she chooses, this will never happen. Is it better to live an immortal life, one with boundless potential for suffering, or to spend eternity in this Soul Cairn of which she knows nothing about? Serana makes it sound like a plain of Oblivion, one of endless anguish for the damned. Destra thinks for a moment. Perhaps that is exactly what she deserves.
What would she even be like if she were a vampire? For over half her life she's been a beast, a werewolf. She can no longer recall what it is like to not feel the pull of the moons. Like the tide to the ocean, so the blood to her mind. Beyond her tie to the Companions and Aela, could she really give up that kind of power? She gave up the Voice. But that was different. The Voice is still a part of her. The Voice cannot be taken away forever.
She thinks it's been half an hour now. She knows she cannot delay any longer. They need the scroll. The world needs them to succeed. And Serana needs her support. She exhales a long, shaky breath. She knows what she will choose, and it makes her stomach turn.
Destra finds Serana sitting in the library alcove of the laboratory. The vampire pours over her mother's journal, face flitting between awe, consternation, and grief. She barely notices when the elven woman takes a seat beside her. Destra calls her name. Serana startles a bit before remembering where she is. A cautious smile forms.
"Did you - have you decided?" Serana asks. "We have more time if you still need to think."
"I'm not sure thinking more would do me any favours," Destra sighs. "Anything good?" She nods to the journal in Serana's lap.
"Depends on your definition, I suppose. It's mostly just notes on experiments, theories, that sort of thing. There are a couple of ramblings about my father. Nothing flattering there. And there are a couple of bits about me."
"Such as?"
"Just that she thought I was becoming a competent necromancer and that I take much more after her than Harkon. It's her way of saying she's proud of me, I suppose," Serana says.
"She should be proud of you," Destra says as she places a hand on Serana's knee. Serana closes her eyes for a moment before sighing.
"You're stalling," she teases. Any levity in Destra's face quickly turns. Serana's face darkens too. "I meant what I said. No matter what you choose, I won't think any differently of you. I… hope that can be enough for now."
"I know you won't." A smile partially returns to both faces. "I can't. I can't be a vampire. I don't want to be trapped in the Soul Cairn when I die, but I just can't do it. Soul trap me."
A flare of emotion Destra can't quite discern flashes across Serana's face. It is gone just as quickly.
"I understand. Whenever you're ready, then. I'll try to make this as painless as possible," the vampire says.
Destra braces herself, and in moments, she feels the second worst pain she's ever felt in her life. As she loses consciousness, her mind is filled with the many dragons whose own souls she's ripped from their bodies.
—
Destra comes to about an hour later. She sits up too quickly, and a wave of nausea passes over her. Serana is by her side in an instant with a waterskin. Destra drinks from it gratefully before sitting up far more slowly.
"How are you feeling?" Serana asks carefully. Destra opens her mouth to answer, turns, and vomits. "Right."
"I have so many apologies to make," she says when she's recovered enough.
"Well, I was going to apologise to you, seeing as how I split your soul and all that, but, apology accepted for that." Serana nods in the direction of Destra's sick. The elf laughs in spite of herself. They sit for a few more minutes while Destra regains her strength, and then they are at the portal. Serana asks if she is ready, and with a nod, they descend into the abyss.
It's far more… purple than Destra expects. The sky is surprisingly finite, and its royal hues are struck with chains of lightning. The ground is more kin to what one would imagine. A vast expanse of dust stretches on as far as either woman can see, interrupted only by schisms emitting vibrant light, shadowy ruins of buildings, and the ghostly figures of what Destra assumes to be the souls condemned to this plain. It makes Destra feel sick all over again.
"I guess I should start shopping around for a house," she attempts to jest. Serena frowns.
"We'll figure something out, I promise."
"Don't worry about it. Let's just… find Valerica and get out of here." Serena nods in return.
In the distance, they see a large keep surrounded by a magical barrier. They decide to start there. The path is deceptively long, and several of the lost souls approach them. None of them seem to know where they are, and only some realise they are dead. One soul clad fully in armour does not approach. Instead, he searches, frantically calling the name "Arvak." Part of Destra wants to ask him what's wrong, help him however she can. The other, far more cynical, part tells her that whatever burdens this wretch now will still be there when she dies. Then she'll have all the time in the world to solve the problems of dead men.
If Serena feels strongly about the souls around them, she does not show it. Destra knows she is thinking about what she'll say to her mother. Then Destra kicks herself. She had been so busy mourning her afterlife that she hadn't asked Serena how she was feeling. She decides to correct that oversight.
"Serana?"
"Hm?"
"What are you thinking?"
"At the moment? How bad this place smells," Serana says and wrinkles her nose.
"We're getting close. How are you feeling?" Destra probes.
"Terrified. Relieved. Worried she won't be there. Worried she will be. Nervous about how she'll react to seeing me. Nervous about how I'll react to seeing her. And a little hungry." Destra chuckles a bit at the last.
"Want me to get you one of those crunchy-looking husk thingies?" Destra nods to a wispy "plant" nearby.
"Oh, you do know how to wine and dine a lady, don't you? Thanks, but I'll pass," Serana smiles. They are a few yards away from the barrier.
"Serana, I'm right beside you. I won't let anything get out of hand." The vampire hesitates a moment before pulling Destra into a quick embrace. They break apart and approach the barrier. A figure appears on the other side.
"Maker, Serana?"
"Mother? Is it really you?"
Destra is fifty-six years old. She knows she won't live forever. She will learn if it is possible for a mother and daughter to forgive each other.