Chapter 1: Chance Meetings

A/N: Hi there! This story is my first work on the site, and this is a lengthy first chapter. The novelisation assumes background knowledge of the contents of the Dawnguard DLC and some basic Elder Scrolls lore. The Dovahkiin in this story is an Elf, though which kind, you'll have to work out for yourself. There will be eventual romance in this story, though not for some time yet. In the meanwhile, enjoy!

Of all the places the fort could be built, it had to be in the Rift. Warm, autumnal, wealthy, and overall completely intolerable. Vafiél would've preferred even Solitude, full of people as it were. At least people were easy to avoid.

But he'd heard it so often, advice unwelcomed—"Heard they're reforming the Dawnguard, vampire hunters or something, in the old fort near Riften!"—and such did its frequency irk him that he simply had to know what all the fuss was about. So, as sunset made the russet and amber leaves overheard bleed in ruddy light, he journeyed south in search of the supposed stronghold.

A slightly worn path diverted up away from the road leading to the border. Vafiél took it and came up to the entrance of a cave. The sign outside roughly read 'Dayspring Canyon.' It looked more like a pass into the mountain than anything else.

He wasn't sure how long he was in the mountain pass—it could have been minutes or hours—but finally, he emerged into a spacious valley. Chill air rustled his cloak and Vafiél closed his eyes blissfully; it was a welcome respite from the warmth. He passed by rich foliage and headed down a worn path. A roar filled his ears. Curious, Vafiél rounded the edge of the rocky outcropping to his right and stopped altogether.

He stood in front of a grand lake into which small waterfalls spilled from the depths of frost-encrusted mountains. Sunlight sparkled on the ice and made the lake shimmer like crushed diamonds. Vafiél took a deep breath, admiring the scenery, until a young man's voice disturbed his reverie.

"Oh, hey there! You here to join the Dawnguard, too?" asked a blond Nord.

Vafiél glanced down at him. Usually the hood deterred others from talking to him. Not this one, apparently.

"Truth is, I'm a little nervous. I've never done anything like this before. Oh, my name is Agmaer," the boy went on. Apprehension started to creep into his voice near the end, as if he'd begun to regret his choice to strike conversation.

Pitying him, Vafiél said, "You look rather unarmed to be fighting vampires."

Agmaer laughed sheepishly and rubbed his face. "I know," he admitted. "Do you mind if I, uh, walk up with you?"

"Fine," Vafiél relented.

They continued up the path, veering left and deeper into the valley. "Hey, uh, don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself. Not the best first impression for a new vampire hunter, I guess," Agmaer added, bashfully.

"Isran? The commander of the fort, I assume?"

The boy nodded.

Vafiél hummed shortly. "May I give you some advice, Agmaer?"

"Of course."

"Train hard, and always carry a cure disease potion with you on assignments," Vafiél said quietly. "You do not want to suffer with Sanguinare Vampiris."

Agmaer gave him a serious look. "I trust your judgement. You sound experienced."

Vafiél laughed softly through his nose. "And don't trust anyone."

The Nord scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously, and looked away. "You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh? I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Not sure he'll take me. I hope so."

"We'll see soon enough," Vafiél told him. "Believe in yourself."

They passed between two reaches of rock from the surrounding mountains and emerged into what seemed to be the main portion of the canyon. Above them loomed the fort, an imposing beast of grey stone and blind arches and great rounded towers seated atop a hill.

"That must be it. Fort Dawnguard... Wow. Bigger than I expected," Agmaer remarked, craning his neck in awe to observe the castle.

"With all the talk from the Hold guards, I expected more people," Vafiél murmured, looking around as they continued to ascend.

"Oh, you're right. Where is everybody? This place looks almost deserted."

Vafiél paused. "I hear something. Up ahead." He continued forward until they came to a small campfire and an Orsimer with an odd weapon, like a small metal bow laid on its side atop a piece of wood. Curious of the strange contraption, Vafiél edged forward to observe, keeping at the man's side so as not to interrupt his shot.

"Well, well. New recruits, eh? Name's Durak," said the man, in a gruff voice. "Isran's in the fort. He'll get you sorted out."

"What is that you're shooting with?" Vafiél asked.

"Never seen a crossbow before, eh? Not surprised. Kind of a Dawnguard specialty. Nothing better for putting down vampires," Durak replied, grinning. "Here, take this one and give it a try. You'll want to know how to use it if you really plan to join the Dawnguard."

Agmaer stayed back to watch while Vafiél took the crossbow—the name made sense, in retrospect—and mimicked Durak's earlier position.

"Right, now… Load the bolt in, pull back the lever… Hm, not a bad draw, for a new recruit. Stronger than you look. Aim… Fire with the trigger."

The bolt flew and the crossbow recoiled more than Vafiél expected, but his shot was true. "Slow to reload," he observed, handing the weapon back. "You will make more use of it than I would."

"A wise man doesn't refuse a gift," Durak said.

"A wise man knows his strengths," Vafiél countered, extending a hand and letting frost swirl around his slender fingers.

"Huh. You're a mage, then." The Orsimer didn't seem glad about it, but neither did he argue. "Fighting fire with fire, eh? Very well. Go up to the fort."

Vafiél glanced at Agmaer, and together, they climbed to the front steps of the fort. Another man, dressed similarly to Durak, waited at their crest. "New recruits? Go on in," he said. Vafiél pushed open one of the heavy doors and entered with the young Nord by his side.

Within, two men were conversing heatedly. Tension filled the circular room, stiffening even the cobwebs near the walls. Vafiél waited near the door with Agmaer. They hadn't been noticed.

"Why are you here, Tolan? The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago," said one of the men, deep and terse. A Redguard, bald and tall, though not as tall as Vafiél, with a thick black beard and an authoritative presence. Isran, Vafiél decided.

"You know why I'm here. The Vigilants are under attack everywhere. The vampires are much more dangerous than we believed," answered Tolan, a jowly man in an amusing mismatch of priest's robes and steel plate gauntlets and boots. Dirty ginger whiskers decorated the sides of his face, but that was all they could see, for he had a shoulder turned to them that hid his expression.

"And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it? I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now that you've stirred up the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?" Isran demanded, low and cold.

Tolan took a pleading step forward, desperation tainting his voice. "Isran, Carcette is dead. The Hall of the Vigilants... everyone... they're all dead. You were right, we were wrong. Isn't that enough for you?"

Isran turned his head. "Yes, well… I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you. I am… sorry, you know." It was at that moment he seemed to notice the pair by the door. Vafiél met his gaze and noticed it was a clear grey-blue, not unlike his own.

"You. Come here," said Isran. Vafiél stepped into the light. "So, who are you? What do you want?"

"Word has spread that you are looking for vampire hunters," Vafiél answered. "I came to see the fort for myself."

"You heard right. I'm glad word's finally starting to get around. But that means it won't be long before the vampires start to take notice as well," Isran mused darkly.

Vafiél eyed him carefully from beneath his hood. "I'll be helping you in some way, I assume?"

Isran hummed gruff agreement. "I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires, while we're getting the fort back into shape..." He touched his beard. "Tolan was telling me about some cave that the Vigilants were poking around in. Seemed to think it was related to these recent vampire attacks." He glanced at the oddly-dressed Vigilant. "Tolan, tell him about, what was it, Dimhollow?"

"Yes, that's it," said Tolan. "Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artefact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked..." His sentence trailed off into silence, which Isran quickly filled.

"That's good enough for me. Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there. Feel free to poke around the fort and take what you need. There isn't much yet, but you're welcome to anything you can use."

"Thank you," Vafiél replied, nodding gratefully.

Tolan glanced at Vafiél. "I'll meet you at Dimhollow. It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."

Vafiél was of a mind to protest, but Isran beat him to it. "Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," he said slowly.

"I know what you think of us," said Tolan, slighted. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness. Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting. I'm going to Dimhollow Crypt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance to you."

You'll likely get yourself killed or walk all over my runes, Vafiél thought dismally, but said nothing, instead acquiescing with silence and a dip of his head. Tolan marked the location on his map, then left the room.

Isran turned his hard gaze on Agmaer, who hadn't yet approached. "You there, boy. Stop skulking in the shadows and step up here," he said. "What's your name?"

Agmaer hesitantly edged forward. "I'm, uh… My name is A-Agmaer, sir," he stammered.

"Do I look like a sir to you, boy? I'm not a soldier, and you're not joining the army."

"Yes, si—Isran."

Vafiél glanced over his shoulder at Agmaer, simultaneously amused and reassuring.

"Didn't I tell you to step forward?" The young Nord came closer, levelling with Vafiél. "Hm… Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?"

"Uh, my weapon? I m-mostly just use my pa's axe, when wolves are attacking the goats or something."

Isran tipped his head back and grinned ruefully at the ceiling. "My pa's axe. Stendarr preserve us." He laughed deeply and shook his head, looking over Agmaer. "Don't worry. I think we can make a Dawnguard out of you. Here, take this crossbow, and let's see how you shoot."

Agmaer blinked. "Uh, crossbow? I've never—"

"—yes, a crossbow. Best thing for killing vampires. Just take a few shots at those crates over there." Isran moved across the room with Agmaer, guiding his stance and his shot. "Watch the recoil. Takes some getting used to. That's it. Take a deep breath and let it out as you fire. You'll get the hang of it."

Vafiél decided to leave them to it, exiting through the front doors into the sunlight and taking out his map. It was east of Morthal, and south of the Dwemer ruin Mzinchaleft. There was no way around it: it was quite a distance to travel. Best start now, Vafiél thought to himself.

He retraced his journey back to Riften, regretful to bear the warm weather again, and rounded the city to the stables. From there, the easiest option was a ride by horse and carriage to Morthal, and that was what he did.

The trip, much like his journey to Fort Dawnguard, was dreary and uneventful, just the way he liked. He only spoke with the carriage driver to arrange passage to Morthal, and after his arrival outside the wintry town, he didn't speak at all. Vafiél had never been one for idle conversation with strangers, much less now.

This far north he seldom encountered people on the roads. Caravans rarely travelled through Labyrinthian, which Vafiél passed, and he encountered a frost troll on the way past the Lord Stone, but other than that his journey was unhindered—aside from the odd wolf pack.

The entrance to Dimhollow Crypt was a cave atop a short flight of stairs. Vafiél entered quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention, and crept through the short tunnel leading in. It rapidly opened to a cavern, dimly lit through gaps in the rocky ceiling. Snow covered the ground. Vafiél could hear water flowing through the spacious area, and above it, voices.

"These Vigilants never know when to give up. I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall," snapped a man, irritated.

"To come in here alone… A fool, like all the rest of them," agreed a woman, smoother of tone.

"He fought well, though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him."

"Ha. Those two got what they deserved," the woman sneered. "Their arrogance had become insufferable."

Vafiél snuck closer, trying to see who was talking. He spotted the man and woman in front of a gated passage. Instinct told him they were vampires.

"All this talk is making me thirsty. Perhaps another Vigilant will wander in soon," the man said. Vafiél couldn't tell at this distance, but the tone of those words made him imagine the vampire licking his lips.

"I wish Lokil would hurry it up," the woman huffed. "I have half a mind to return to the castle and tell Harkon what a fool he's entrusted this mission to."

"And I have half a mind to tell Lokil of your disloyalty," the man purred.

"You wouldn't dare. Now shut up and keep on watch."

Their conversation seemed to have ended. Vafiél edged silently to the right of the precipice he stood on, searching for a clear shot; the man stood a few lengths away from the woman, on the opposite side to the gated passageway. Vafiél held a hand in front of his chest and formed a thin spear of ice that floated in his palm. He held his breath and aimed, then sent it flying at breakneck speed. It buried itself in the man's eye with precision. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Vafiél glanced over at the woman. A hound stood growling by her side, a red-eyed abomination that looked like it had been pulled straight from Oblivion. The vampire seemed to realise something was amiss then.

The angle made it difficult for Vafiél to hit her from where he was hidden, forcing him to creep down the pathway to his right and follow it up to the other side of the cavern. He noticed a sort of watchtower tucked away into the southwestern corner, on the same side he'd emerged from, and wondered if it might provide a vantage point for the shot.

Quickly, he slipped into the tower and ascended the stairs. Sure enough he found a window at the top that faced the gated passageway, in front of which he spotted the remaining vampire and a few bodies. Vafiél readied another spear and sent it through the woman's eye, just like he did with the man; and before the hound could sniff him out, he killed it too. As he stood up he noticed a pull-chain on the wall, and as he suspected, it opened the gate.

With the cavern cleared of enemies, Vafiél approached the passageway and inspected the bodies of the fallen. He found two deceased vampires—one of which appeared higher-ranking than the others—and a ginger-whiskered Nord.
Tolan, Vafiél realised, crouching down and placing a hand on his chest. He must have killed the other vampires before he died. May you find peace now. Vafiél took a breath and continued through the passageway.

Parts of it appeared to be an ancient Nordic ruin—a knowledge that made Vafiél uncomfortable—while others seemed to have been excavated, no doubt by the vampires in search of whatever lay here. Vafiél emerged into a small open area, at the back of which he spotted a vampire near a few gravestones. He slayed her from a distance and dispatched the skeletons that rose to the ground in her place with ease.

The rooms which followed were similar, the odd mixture of Nordic ruin and necromantic cavern. Underground rivers ran through the cave system, providing watery ambience. Near what seemed to be the end of the crypt, Vafiél encountered a large gate and a male vampire on the other side fighting a giant frostbite spider. The man managed to kill the spider, and he glanced over his shoulder in Vafiél's direction, hissing, "Who goes there? Reveal yourself, or face my wrath!"

Vafiél knew he couldn't crouch in the shadows forever. He burst from the entryway and threw his hands out in front of him, hurling a beam of lightning at the vampire. Cool concentration claimed his mind and all he thought of in the moment was focusing the magic; he didn't hear the vampire scream and curse, didn't quite see him try to escape. Vafiél did see him disintegrate into ash.

Vafiél continued forward, hands shaking from the force of the beam and feeling lightheaded. An oak and iron door stood at the end of the room guarded by stone gargoyles—three of them, on the walls behind and to the sides of the lone door. Still quivering and unsteady, Vafiél eased it open and slipped through.

He emerged into a small room—no, a balcony—and immediately heard voices.
"I'll never tell you anything, vampire. My oath to Stendarr is stronger th—" The man's bitter words were cut off by a strangled gurgle of pain.

Vafiél crept to the edge of the balcony and peered down at the scene below, taking slow breaths to calm and steady himself. Exhaustion was beginning to seep into him. How long had he been in this damned cave?

"Are you sure that was wise, Lokil? He still might have told us something," said a woman, exasperatedly. Vafiél stirred at the familiar name. "We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with…"

"He knew nothing," Lokil spat. "He served his purpose by leading us to this place. Now it is up to us to bring Harkon the prize. And we will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this."

"Yes, of course, Lokil. Do not forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery," said the woman, tersely, as they started across a bridge to a circular stone island.

"I never forget who my friends are. Or my enemies," the man assured her.

The island, and the lake below it, was shrouded in darkness, but Vafiél could just make out rows of arches in concentric circles. It was a strange type of architecture he'd never seen before.

Vafiél descended staircases until he found the body of the Vigilant of Stendarr he'd heard speaking. Beside him a book lay open. Vafiél skimmed through it and concluded that this Vigilant—Adalvald, who Tolan had mentioned at the fort—had come to the same realisations Vafiél himself did: the architecture was unique, and seemed necromantic in origin, undoubtedly ancient. He took the book with him and slipped it into his cloak as he crept across the bridge.

Two swiftly shot ice spears dispatched the female vampire and her thrall, at a cost; Lokil noticed him and red light lit up his hand. With a heart beating like a trapped hummingbird and a mind like a frozen lake, Vafiél strafed sideways, lining Lokil up with the jagged rock wall. The Thu'um started to rise within him, and the Words lit his mind in clear blue, sitting in his throat like a cat ready to pounce. Vafiél breathed in sharply and Shouted—"Fus Ro Dah!"—and Lokil was sent flying into the rock, snapping his neck from the force as the sounds echoed strangely on the cavern walls. Speaking with the Thu'um was the only time Vafiél raised his voice at anything.

A pedestal sat in the centre of the island, and out from it spread ridges in the floor. Vafiél stepped closer to it and noticed a button. A puzzle, he decided. He pressed the button and stifled a cry of pain as a blade shot through his palm. Shock and alarm rooted him to the spot as his blood spilled over the edges of the pedestal. The blade retracted and Vafiél quickly cast a healing spell to close the wound. In the circular ridge around the pedestal, ethereal violet flames came to life; they spread away down one of the straight ridges to a brazier. Necromantic indeed.

Vafiél pushed the brazier to the end of the line of fire and the brazier lit itself. He repeated this process until violet flames illuminated all of the ridges and made the island glow. The puzzle appeared solved then. The ground lowered in ridges and a pentagonal monolith rose from the central pedestal. Curious, Vafiél touched the monolith's cool surface, but he quickly jerked back when the surface sank away into the ground, revealing someone inside it.

A woman, black-haired, dressed in vampire's armour of higher quality than all the others he'd seen. She fell out of the monolith and caught herself on her hands with a muffled grunt before standing up and opening her eyes. They glowed amber now that the violet flames had been extinguished.

Vafiél watched her, unsure of what to do or say, and she stared back, looking how he felt.

"Where is… Who sent you here?" she asked, low and quiet, rasping like someone who'd just woken up.

"Uh… Who were you expecting?" Vafiél asked, slowly.

"I was expecting someone… like me, at least," the woman answered. A slight frown furrowed her brow.

"You're a vampire," he said, not quite a question.

"Yes."

Vafiél hesitated. Isran would have murdered her in a second, but there was something strange about this place, about this woman. "Why were you locked away like this?" he asked, keeping all harshness from his voice.

She bit her lip. "That's… complicated, and I'm not totally sure if I can trust you."

Nor I you, he thought to himself.

"But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

Vafiél released a breath. "Alright. Where do you need to go?"

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do. By the way… My name is Serana."

"Mine is Vafiél," he told her. The introduction tasted strange to say; it had been so long since he'd properly introduced himself to someone.

"Good to meet you." Serana rolled her shoulders and looked around, seeming confused of her surroundings.

As they found a way off the island, Vafiél said, "Tell me about this… home of yours."

"It's a short way off the coast. Hopefully we can find a boat to take us there," she answered, staying by his side. "Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there."

He raised a brow, though she wouldn't have seen it. "Someone you don't want to see?"

She sighed. "My father and I don't really get along… Ugh. Saying it out loud makes it sound so common. Little girl who doesn't get along with her father. Read that story a hundred times."

Vafiél hummed shortly, glancing at her sideways. "I see you have an Elder Scroll."

"Yes." Her voice sharpened for a moment. "And it's mine."

To take the edge off the subject, he asked, "Were you in that monolith for very long?"

"Good question. I… I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time," she admitted. "Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Vafiél laughed through his nose. "That's actually a matter of debate."

"Oh, wonderful. A war of succession," she groaned. "Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"

"Well, the Empire supports Jarl Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Jarl Ulfric," Vafiél answered.

"Empire? What… what empire?"

Vafiél halted in his steps. "The… Empire. From Cyrodiil," he said slowly.

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned." Worry tinged her voice. "Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

"I'll get you there as quick as I can," Vafiél assured her. "Stay close."

He led her northeast over a bridge. The moment they stepped onto the landing, two of the stone gargoyles exploded to life with roars of grating rock. Vafiél's breath caught in his throat. "Serana," he said quickly, frost flowing through his fingers, "how do we kill them?"

"Attack normally," she answered, readying destruction magic similar to his own.

That was all he needed. Vafiél focused on the left gargoyle, shooting spears of ice through its eyes and neck. As it fell he saw the other raising a clawed hand to strike at Serana. Vafiél didn't hesitate to blast it away from her, over the edge of the platform and into the lake.

"Thanks," she breathed. "Still waking up."

"Take your time," he murmured, amused.

They turned right up a slope and through a wooden door, into another Nordic-looking area. Vafiél ascended the stairs to find draugr exiting their coffins and skeletons emerging from the darkness. He dispatched them quickly with Serana's help.

"I'll bet that lever opens the gate," she said, gesturing to a lever on a dais.

"Try it. I'm going to check the room for anything we've missed," Vafiél told her, retracing his steps to the lower level and scouring the room. He encountered a chest for his troubles, and within it, a spell tome. The cover read 'Necromantic Healing.' Vafiél glanced over at Serana, who was near the now-open gate. This will come in handy. Should read it when we make camp.

Through the gate they emerged into a large, cavernous room with a fiery pit in the centre and several staircases leading down to its depths.

"I don't like the look of this," Serana whispered, glancing up at him.

Vafiél met her gaze from beneath his hood. "Neither do I," he whispered back. "Look." He pointed to a throne at the edge of the pit where a draugr lord sat. "It can probably Shout. I may need to match its Voice with my own, so please, be careful."

"You can Shout?" Serana whispered, clearly seeking elaboration.

"This isn't the time or place to explain. Perhaps later I'll tell you why I can Shout." Vafiél took a deep breath. "Are you ready?"

"I'll follow your lead."

He nodded and aimed an attack, sending a spear of ice through the draugr's chest. It stirred to life immediately, cursing them and growling. Other draugr burst from their coffins at the lord's command and diverted Vafiél's attention as they fell on him. He stayed close to Serana as they fought off the lesser draugr, but Vafiél saw the lord's eyes flash and heard it say Fus… Alarmed it might send Serana into the wall, Vafiél quickly countered the Shout by mirroring the draugr's Words. Both Thu'ums cancelled each other as they met. Enraged, the lord swung its wicked battleaxe at Vafiél, who dodged it nimbly and fought back with destruction magic. With Serana's help, they managed to fell the lord in a few more moments.

"You could bring the whole place down by Shouting like that," she told him.

"I know my strength," Vafiél murmured. "You may not trust me as a person—and I can't trust you yet, either—but you can trust in my abilities."

She watched him curiously for a moment, then seemed to relent. "Let's keep moving."

They started toward the exit when Vafiél passed by a Word Wall. The Word illuminated on it shone bright blue, pulling at his soul, calling him from beyond life. He approached it and read the inscription, his vision hazing and homing in on the illuminated letters. Gaan, stamina. A shout to drain the mortal energies from an opponent.

"Gaan," he whispered, tasting the Word against the stone. It was a dark Shout. He wasn't sure if he'd ever bring himself to use it.

"Vafiél?" Serana called.

"Coming," he replied, continuing forward with her.

They passed through a pair of wooden doors and then a short, icy tunnel before finally leaving the crypt for the outside world. It was a few hours before dawn, when the world was awash with blue and the sun hadn't yet risen.

"Ah, it's so good to breathe again," said Serana, pulling up her hood. "Even in the cold, it's better than that cave."

"Not fond of cool weather?" Vafiél asked, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Not particularly," she replied. "Though I guess sunlight would be worse."

"Let's find somewhere shaded, then. It's been a long while since I last slept."

She laughed quietly. "I guess I'll keep watch. I've had enough sleep to last a lifetime."

"Several, actually," he remarked, fighting a smirk. "Forgive me. I'm mortal, and mortals need sleep."

"Alright, alright. But we should go indoors somewhere. The sunlight isn't good for my skin, if you know what I mean," Serana told him. "Maybe we could stop at an inn or something. I'm not opposed to visiting a city if—"

"—no," he interrupted. "I try to avoid cities."

She eyed him carefully. "You're a wanted man?"

Vafiél crossed his arms. "I've committed no crimes, but I'm in danger all the same. I can't say more than that." He took a breath. "We should find somewhere to stop before the sun rises. Actually…" Vafiél took out his map. "Well, my home isn't too far from here," he admitted. "A couple of hours, at most. We could make it there before sunrise. I planned to stop there before… we met."

"Seems like we're both keeping secrets… Fine. Lead the way," Serana told him, watching him warily.

He hesitated for a moment. "I understand your distrust of me, but I have no intentions of harming you. If I did, I wouldn't be foolish enough to suggest sleeping in your company. On my honour, don't be afraid."

She half-smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Aren't you afraid of me? I'm a vampire, and yet you're willing to sleep around me?"

"If it falls to me to extend a branch of trust, then so be it," Vafiél murmured. "Let's go."

Serana nodded and followed him down the snowy slope.

"So… Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?" Serana asked as they walked.

Vafiél hummed thoughtfully, wondering at what to tell her. "I enjoy cold weather. I'm fond of cats. And… I don't have many friends anymore. None, actually."

"I know what it's like to be lonely," she said quietly.

Eager to change the subject, Vafiél glanced at her and asked, "What about you?"

"Oh. There isn't much to tell right now," Serana said apologetically.

"It seems that way. Sorry. I'm not used to having a travelling companion," Vafiél murmured. "I've forgotten how to be social."

Serana laughed. "You'll remember soon enough. It's a long way to my family's home."

Vafiél awkwardly smoothed out his cloak, wondering what mess he'd gotten himself into.

As he'd estimated, they reached his home before sunrise. It was a circular tower named Myrwatch, long abandoned, small enough to be cosy. "Here we are," Vafiél announced. He unlocked the door with a spell and gestured for Serana to enter.

"I guess I should have expected a mage tower," she mused, climbing the stairs to the first floor.

Within, the main chamber was divided into a central area slightly lowered from the two side areas, with places to sit in the hollow by the embers of a dying fire.

"It isn't much, but I do have many bookcases full of books you can read," Vafiél told her, heading over to the left side to his bed. He sat on the edge and rubbed his eyes, wondering if it was worth taking off his hooded cloak to sleep more comfortably. Serana stood leaning sideways against the wall, watching him. In the end, he decided it couldn't hurt that much. He'd saved her life once already; surely she wouldn't be so quick to judge him.

Vafiél unclasped the cloak and set it on the end of the bed, smoothing his hair back and bringing his long braid over his shoulder.

"You're an elf," Serana commented. "I should've guessed from your name."

"Probably," he agreed. "Most are not so fond of elves here in Skyrim."

Serana's expression softened. "Looks like we're both shunned, one way or another."

Vafiél nodded quietly.

"That's a deep scar you have," she added, curious.

Vafiél touched his brow self-consciously. "I know. It didn't heal very well."

She smiled to herself oddly and looked away. "I'll let you rest. Don't take too long."

"You can wake me after a few hours," Vafiél replied, watching her walk away for a moment before retrieving the spell tome he'd found in Dimhollow and absorbing the runes. That was the last thing he did before settling into an uneasy sleep.