Chapter 6: Warmth

A/N: Hello again! I hope you enjoy the direction I'm taking with this story. Deviations from the DLC's storyline begin most notably in this chapter, but the end result is the same. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.

Myrwatch stood silhouetted by Masser and Secunda, who floated high in the star-flecked night. Storm and Midnight had cantered happily from Clearpine Pond to Vafiél's home; a full day of rest seemed to make them eager for travel. Serana had raced Vafiél along the last stretch. His breathless laughter when he realised she'd won the race made her wonder if losing might have been more fun, just to see a triumphant grin on his ever-stoic face.

With the horses picketed in the grass, Vafiél led Serana inside and helped her put their things down, including Valerica's Elder Scroll. "I'll go and get the other Scroll," he told her, leaving his cloak over a table and smoothing his hair back.

"I'll come with you. I want to see this treasure horde of yours," Serana replied, eager and inquisitive. She could only imagine the kinds of things he might have kept over the years.

Vafiél shrugged. "Suit yourself." He went over to a blind archway in the far wall, moved aside a small round table, and held a hand aloft. It began to glow with bright magic, almost like sunlight. The archway shimmered and distorted, showing a blurred image of a room similar to the one they were in.

"I've never seen anything like that," Serana remarked. "It's safe, right?"

"Of course." Vafiél went through it, then returned to her. "Perfectly safe."

Serana moved through the portal, feeling oddly warm, and looked around the new area. Its layout was much the same as the level below, but with an emphasis on displaying things: a blue elven bow and its matching quiver; sapphire robes embroidered with silver-white thread, glistening in the light; an elegant pitcher on its own stand; a fine painting depicting two Snow Elves, one male and one female, the woman a pale beauty holding an elven longbow in one hand and a small sun statuette in the other.

Serana was drawn to the painting instantly. It took her a moment, but she recognised Vafiél—albeit a younger, happier, more handsome version of him—and the woman had to be Eleana. Her smile pierced through the artwork like a silver arrow. The siblings looked quite alike.

"Elves live long lives, but our beauty wanes with the centuries," Vafiél said quietly. "Or… it does for most of us." He presented the Elder Scroll of the dragons to her and Serana looked at him.

The major difference she noticed was how tired he seemed now. He hadn't changed much otherwise, she reflected, and it was also likely that a bath and nicer clothes would provide a more accurate comparison.

Serana glanced back at the painting and frowned. She'd overlooked one crucial detail. "Is that… Auriel's Bow?"

"Yes, it is," Vafiél answered. He didn't give the painting so much as a sideways glance. "It belonged to her, for a time."

"She must have been quite the priestess," Serana commented, trying to keep her tone soft.

"It was always her calling." Vafiél headed for the portal. "Meet me downstairs when you're done looking around." With that, he was gone.

Serana had a strange feeling it was more than mourning that drove him away. Surely, even if he grieved Eleana, he would be able to remember her with warmth. Instead, it was almost like he was… ashamed, unworthy of seeing even a painting.

Instinct made her go after him before she'd so much as looked at anything else.

She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his palm, quivering and crying. She'd never seen him cry.

"Vafiél? Hey, talk to me. What's wrong?" Serana asked urgently, sitting beside him. He gave no response. "Vafiél." She touched his forearm and he tensed, glancing at her for a moment. His despair cut through her with intense precision.

But the moment passed and he turned his head away from her, curling in on himself. "I want to help you," Serana mumbled, shuffling closer and brushing tears away from his jaw.

Vafiél rubbed his eyes with unsteady hands. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't h-have to… to deal with this. It's my burden," he rasped.

"You can tell me," Serana whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Maybe you'll feel better if you do."

He sniffed and glanced at her with longing, but the pain overshadowed it. "I can't right now," Vafiél croaked. "It hurts too much."

"Then we'll stay here a while until it hurts less," she murmured, drawing him closer. To her relief, he lightly draped his arms around her in return and rested his head on her shoulder, slowly but surely relaxing and calming down.

Finally, after several long minutes, Vafiél straightened up and met her gaze.

"How do you feel?" Serana asked, wiping away his tears.

"Better," he admitted, glancing away and laughing raspily. "Thank you." Vafiél met her gaze and took a shaky breath. He hadn't quite let her go yet; his touch was warm through her tunic.

The moment stretched long like a bowstring, becoming more taut with every passing second the longer she looked at him. Something in her twisted. Then Vafiél closed his eyes and the tension snapped; Serana would've killed to know what he was thinking. Strangely, all he did was lean forward and lightly touch his forehead to hers, soft and affectionate. Whether it was a social custom among Snow Elves or simply an act of gratitude, she didn't know. Regardless, it was… nice.

Vafiél soon pulled away and gave her space. Serana watched him with surreptitious curiosity as he stood up and went over to a moderately deep circular depression in the floor in front of the far wall. In alcoves surrounding it sat small bottles and jars. He did something to the hollow and it began to fill with water.

"You're welcome to take one of the beds on the other side," Vafiél told her over his shoulder.

"Is that a bath? I didn't even notice," said Serana, approaching him.

He laughed quietly. "They aren't common in Skyrim, but you'll find most elven houses have them."

"Is it magic?" She couldn't seem to figure out where the water came from.

"Yes, of course." Vafiél gave her a look she couldn't quite place, not quite a smirk, but definitely amused. "Typically, I bathe in private," he said, eyes glinting.

Serana backed away, laughing. "I'm going," she assured him, and hurried away to the other side of the room. Still, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced back as she was rounding the wall for a half-second and caught the briefest glimpse of his back, marked with what looked like whip-scars bending around his waist.

She ducked out and sat by the fire, though she didn't have to wait long. Vafiél took the seat beside her, accompanied by the scents of precious woods and something vaguely floral. Jasmine, perhaps. He looked a great deal more like the person in the painting upstairs; his hair gleamed in the firelight, and she could see the nobility of his heritage.

"My turn?" Serana asked with a smile.

"Oh! I should have offered. Forgive me," Vafiél apologised, rising with her. "I'll do the spell for you." She followed him to his room and he filled the hollow with warm water, then quickly explained the contents of the jars—balms for her hair, a rich-smelling scrub, and other various items she didn't dare to use. He left quickly without waiting to be dismissed.

It had been so long since she'd had the opportunity for a warm bath. True, there weren't any handmaidens here to help her bathe and wash her clothes, but Serana didn't mind. The water never cooled, and so she stayed there until her skin wrinkled and she was thoroughly clean.

Around an hour passed before she emerged from the water and wrapped herself in the robe Vafiél had left for her. She found him with a few books by the fire.

"You're adding the gargoyles to the textbook," Serana realised, smiling eagerly and sitting beside him.

Vafiél mirrored her expression. "It's not quite as much information as I'd like," he told her, "but it's a starting point. I need to make more observations to find proper averages."

For a while they sat in comfortable silence. Serana watched him sketch until tiredness swept her and Vafiél put the work aside. They got up by unspoken agreement, though Serana felt strange saying goodnight and leaving him on the other side of the room. They'd spent weeks having the other at arm's reach. Now, as she lay down under the furs in a soft, comfortable bed, the quiet loneliness snuck up on her.

Serana crept to the other side and found Vafiél awake as well, staring at the ceiling.

"Strange, isn't it?" he whispered, understanding her without a word of explanation.

"Do you mind?" Serana asked, barely audible.

"Of course not."

She settled in on the other side of the bed with a respectable distance between them and sleep took her almost instantly.

The light of sunset turned everything rose-golden when Vafiél stirred. He blinked open his eyes to find Serana sleeping peacefully, the furs pulled up to her chin. He resisted the urge to stroke her hair in fear it would wake her and stayed where he was until she woke.

"Sleep well?" Vafiél asked as she stretched and yawned before snuggling in again. He propped himself up on his elbow.

"Absolutely," Serana confirmed. But her eyes were glowing hungrily.

"There's a mine just east of here, infested by bandits," he murmured. "You'll be able to feed there."

She smiled, soft with gratitude. "Thank you. Will you be okay here for an hour?"

"Of course. I'll wait here for you," Vafiél promised her. "Just don't be long, or I'll start to worry." Against his better judgement he gingerly tucked some hair behind her ear.

Serana laughed through her nose and touched his hand, forcing him to linger over her cheek. "I'm perfectly capable."

A grin escaped him. "And if a dragon attacks? Whatever will you do without me?"

"Don't give me that smug look," she chided him, laughing again and playfully pushing his shoulder. He laughed with her as they sat up, and every time they met each other's gaze they'd laugh more.

"Stop making me laugh!" Serana giggled, shoving him down on his back again.

"I'm not," he protested. "You just have no self-control." Vafiél caught her hands to stop her fake attacks and laced their fingers together, gazing up at her. Their laughter faded. Visceral heat warmed his blood and caught him by surprise, stirring a complexity of emotion he'd almost forgotten existed. Vafiél carefully released her hands and she let him sit up, a grey blush tinting her face.

"I should… go," Serana said awkwardly, not quite looking at him.

"Be safe," he responded, self-consciously smoothing his hair back. She left without another word.

Vafiél stared at the wall, still uncomfortably warm. He told himself it would pass. It had been centuries since he'd been in a woman's company for more than a few minutes, and even elves weren't immune to flights of fancy and insensible attraction. Serana was a friend. He was above petty desires; they were the nature of living things and like everything else, came and went. It would pass.

Or so he hoped.

He cleaned and worked and practiced spells to clear his head. He organised every bookshelf and ate a small meal. He brushed and braided his hair, refreshed their travel materials, prepared the Elder Scrolls, clasped on a cloak, and wilfully ignored the thoughts that toyed with his conscience.

Serana returned within the hour, refreshed and ready to leave. He secured Valerica's Elder Scroll to her back and she did the same for his. They spoke of idle things while they filled the saddlebags. She seemed content to forget about what had happened before; that was fine by him.

They'd been travelling for close to an hour when they passed the smoking remains of the Hall of the Vigilant. The place was crawling with vampires. They weren't very much of a threat, but Vafiél showed them no mercy when the master vampire managed to cut Serana's hand.

"It's just a little cut," she protested when he healed it for her. "It'll close on its own."

"Then it won't be difficult to heal," Vafiél replied. The wound had all but disappeared when a roar made the air tremble above them. Annoyed at the delays, he turned to the dragon when it landed and let the Thu'um erupt from his throat, lending strength to his command in Dovahzul: "If you challenge me, you will die, and I will consume your soul. Be gone, dragon, or face my wrath!"

The dragon growled and took wing, searching for an easier dinner.

Vafiél glanced at Serana, who was staring at him in surprise. "Let's keep going," he said, swinging into the saddle.

Fort Dawnguard had turned into much more than an abandoned ruin when they returned. Serana couldn't say she enjoyed being there, but at least the place wasn't falling apart and overgrown.

There'd been a stiffness in Vafiél's shoulders since they left Myrwatch. She didn't think about the look in his eyes as he stared up at her that morning, hair splayed out, blushing like the light that fell on him.

Focus, she berated herself as they entered the fort.

They found Dexion seated in the dining area. "Dexion," Vafiél said, "we've brought the… Oh, no." His voice filled with dread and Serana realised why the moment she saw the Moth Priest with a covering on his eyes.

"I'm sorry, friends. I'm afraid I can no longer be of use in this matter," Dexion said, calm yet regretful.

"You're blind," Serana realised aloud, worry gnawing at her.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Dexion lamented. "I was… ill-prepared to read the Elder Scroll. It'll have to run its course, and there's always the chance I may never recover."

Vafiél placed his hands on his hips, sighing heavily. "Then we're finished."

"No, there's another way. The question is, how much are you willing to risk to find Auriel's Bow?" Dexion asked, as Serana touched Vafiél's shoulder to reassure him.

"Tell me what I need to do," Vafiél responded quietly.

Dexion hesitated. "I can't guarantee you'd be free from harm. Becoming blind could be the least of your worries."

"Never mind that. Just tell me."

Serana had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to like what came next.

"Scattered across Tamriel are secluded locations known only as Ancestor Glades. There's one in Skyrim, in the Pine Forest. Performing the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth within the glade should provide the answers you seek," Dexion explained.

"…Fine. Explain the ritual," Vafiél requested, tense.

"It involves carefully removing the bark from a Canticle Tree using an implement called the Draw Knife, which will in turn attract Ancestor Moths to you. Once enough of the moths are following, they'll provide you with the second sight needed to decipher the scrolls." Dexion shifted in his seat. "Every Moth Priest is taught this ritual, but few ever get the chance to perform it. You should consider yourself fortunate if it works for you."

"Do you know where exactly the Ancestor Glade is?" Vafiél asked. "We can't afford to waste time searching."

"Yes. I'll mark it on your map." While the two discussed that, Serana leaned against a wall, noticing that Isran was approaching.

Isran neared Vafiél and took hold of his shoulder, far from amiable. "Listen here, mage," he said, almost a growl. "You report to me, not that old man. This is my fort. I am your commander. Got it?"

"Let go of me," Vafiél said icily, breaking Isran's hold.

Isran threw a disgusted look at Serana. "You should be keeping that thing on a leash."

Serana could only imagine Vafiél's expression. "I'm not interested in your insults. Do you have an order for me, commander, or are we free to leave?" he asked, laced with venom.

Isran smiled savagely. "Oh, no. Not orders. Just advice. If you want to keep her around for entertainment, be my guest. I'm sure even a vampire is enjoyable enough. But I wouldn't sleep around her if I were you."

Before anyone could react, Vafiél backhanded Isran so hard he was sent to the floor, reeling, trying to get to his feet.

"Vafiél!" Serana exclaimed, but he didn't seem to hear her, or any other Dawnguard. She kept them away while Vafiél took hold of Isran by his neck and forced him to the wall. Vafiél's expression must have been a sight, because Isran looked like he'd just come face to face with Sithis himself.

"If you ever say anything like that again," Vafiél snarled, his Voice making the very stones around them quiver with fear, "you will wish I had killed you now." Vafiél shoved Isran to the ground and watched him gasp for breath, nursing his bruised neck.

Serana met Vafiél's gaze. "We need to go," she whispered. He gave only a terse nod in response and stalked out of the fort. Fury spoke in his whole demeanour.

He only stopped when they reached the lake. Serana turned him toward her and looked into his eyes. "What were you thinking?!" she demanded in a whisper. "We can't afford to be making more enemies! He was trying to rile you up, Vafiél."

"I don't care," Vafiél snapped, surprising her with his ferocity. He'd never spoken to her like that. "He's been insulting you ever since you came to ask for help."

"You think I can't handle an idiot like him?" Serana folded her arms.

"That's not what this is about," Vafiél said harshly, frost swirling around his hands. "I will not tolerate his blatant disrespect. Not with the allegories he was making." He looked away, pale hands shaking with anger.

"Why do you care? It's not true," Serana said, confused.

Vafiél didn't speak or look at her.

"Vafiél?" She reached for his hand but he snatched it away before she reached it. Stung, Serana folded her arms, frustration making her stiffen. "Fine, don't tell me. It's not—"

"I care because you mean more to me than that," Vafiél said quietly, fiercely, cutting her off. "Because I respect you, Serana, and I will not let anyone bring your dignity into question."

She digested that in silence for a long, burning moment. "I should've stood up for you, too," Serana whispered, a guilty realisation. "I'm sorry."

"I… shouldn't have snapped at you," Vafiél murmured, calming down. "I'm sorry, too. And… it was foolish of me to attack Isran."

"We all do stupid things sometimes." Serana stepped forward and drew her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "Thank you, Vafiél." He said nothing, holding her close and sighing softly into her hair, enveloping her in warmth as the birds sang for dawn.