Chapter XXVI: Queen of Day and Night

It was a strange sort of feeling. Warming in the soul, yet running cool and calming through his body, like a flowing stream that runs down the mountains. He did not find a name for it initially, and didn't recognize it as something that commonly rippled to the surface of his thoughts. It was different from the dry heat of pride or the scorching cold of cruel satisfaction. The only reasonable conclusion came from what information he had available, which linked the feelings very robustly to the people who were sat in front of him, musing on the simple yet difficult question he had asked them. He was sat where he was, in the position he was in and with all the power he had partly thanks to those people, each one a little sliver that had summed up to something more. The whole is not quantitively different from the sum of its parts, but qualitatively? Yes, indeed. Very different. What he felt was appreciation.

It was a new viewpoint. A courtesy of Serana, no doubt, who had unwittingly allowed him to borrow that perspective. As Azrael looked back on his past, especially what had occurred since his arrival in Skyrim, he saw many things; numbers, systems, ideas, plans and the hidden mechanisms of nature and the world, which he had sometimes been aided by and had sometimes consciously manipulated to his advantage. But when Serana told her story, there were none of those things. Her story was a story of people, not concepts. And in light of that, the Dragonborn could clearly see that when seeing his story as made of people, that his whole story was in that very room. Only a few people were missing, and not because he had chosen not to invite them.

As he caught the sound of an uncertain sigh from one of the people sat near him, he absorbed that feeling into the cold, immense space of his mental world. It was Falk Fire-beard who was had uttered that sound. He was stroking his red mustaches, as he had been doing since the meeting had begun, and his other hand was gripping the edge of the table nervously. 'If I may,' he said, 'I am still uncertain of how we will be able to arm such a large amount of men with such special weaponry.'

'You will be,' Azrael replied. 'Around twenty of them are being forged in the nearby forges as we speak, and your delegation will carry them back to Solitude.' He did a quick calculation, but there weren't mistakes of any kind. 'The material for the remaining number along with the crafting diagrams will be given to you as well, and it shouldn't take more than one day's work of all of Solitude's blacksmiths.'

'Remember that they only need to be edged with silver,' Karliah said. She was probably right in assuming that Falk thought too much about the matter and allowed the spawns of his frightened imagination to overlap with reality. 'Also, as we have already repeated many times, those will only be an insurance. The balance of the numbers should spare the fight from the guards.'

Falk turned around, his expression clearly one eager for confrontation, but with the aim to protect his own position rather than attack his adversary's. 'It's my and my Jarl's city. I will not let any of its citizens come to harm, regardless of circumstances. I have accepted every condition you asked, now let me at least make sure that nothing bad will come from this.'

A man of principles and moral reasoning by temperament, him. Principles were good as personal guidance but never as useful in situations like the one they were in. However, one thing that had been remarkably easy to do was making sure that only people who used their head were allowed into that discussion. As Falk turned back towards the Dragonborn, he saw in his eyes that he was afraid but that his fear did not rule him. It influenced him, of course, but did not absorb him. This didn't mean that he was content with him being there instead of Elisif, but he understood why that had to be the case. An example of a principled reasoning that could not be perfectly followed.

Azrael noticed only then how much his mind had wandered away from the current situation. There was no need to remove those thoughts from his mind, but he preferred them to be deliberate, or at least not mindless. It was one of the things that, some time before, had bound him and Elisif together. A rejection of everything that was mindless and directionless. He was content that he had not become one of them, and his proof lied in the fact that Serana had said as much. Time and time again she had expressed her admiration for his ability to see what was around him. See it, not merely looking at it. And in turn, he noticed that those comments were something he admired in her. He had found something in her which he had failed to find elsewhere, and that was curiosity. Serana was curious about him. The slight discomfort he felt at the notion proved well enough how that was a rare thing.

'A selfish question, Azrael,' said Delphine, from across the table. 'As I understand it, I have no practical role in this beside what I have already done. Am I right?'

'You are,' he said evenly. 'Your expertise is what made you valuable, and you have already done enough by sending the messages I asked you. However,' knowing what she would ask, 'we can easily disguise you as one of the guards and let you be present. Can't we, Falk?'

'Yes,' said the steward, bending his head to the left as if considering something. 'I think we can arrange it, and it would be welcome to have someone who's aware of our plan in our ranks. My only question is, have you ever disguised yourself as a man?'

The Blade smiled faintly and mirthlessly. 'Indeed,' she said, 'plenty of times.'

'Then it's settled,' said the redhead, once again casting his eyes in the Dragonborn's direction. There was a strange glimmer in his gaze, suggesting he had to say more. He hesitated just a moment before doing so. 'I understand your reasons for remaining neutral in the war,' he told Azrael, 'although I do wish we had strategists able to devise plans like what we have laid out now. We would have Skyrim in our grasp.'

'Elisif knows many of my tricks,' he replied. 'You can trust her to make good use of them when the time comes.' And indeed she would. Unsurprisingly, she had learned much more from simply watching him than she had done from listening to the things that he told her. Still, the Jarl's persistence in his thoughts was uncommon. And unsurprising. Solitude was the best place to unravel the weave he had sown. He had just wished he wouldn't have had to bother her again, but things had not gone down that course. And a world without the Dawnguard and the Volkihar was better for everyone. He raised his eyes on the people sat around him. 'Are there any more uncertainties?'

He cast a sweeping glance at all of them. He did not expect any questions from Nazir or Karliah as they would have had plenty of time to ask him for the specifics afterwards, when there wouldn't be so much secrecy involved. The same went for Urag, Phinis and Colette, though they might have used some more time to think as well. Delphine and Falk were the two most likely to have more doubts, if anything because after that meeting they wouldn't have had any more chances for clarifications. Falk was visibly nervous, but he seemed to be musing over the prospects and not about uncertainties. Delphine, however, had a slight frown on her face.

'One last thing, which you have doubtlessly thought about but that I would rather know for sure,' she said, leaning on the table. 'Are we absolutely sure that the message reaches the vampires in time?'

'This reunion has been summoned right now and not yesterday because I have received word from the messenger only this morning, confirming that they have received it.'

The Blade pulled back and laid on the backrest, drumming on the wood with both of her hands. There was a pensive spark in the gazes of every person there as they attempted to imagine how the events would play out. Azrael had no such problem. The pattern of events and the sequence of reactions, of causes and effects, played out in his mind effortlessly, as if it were a memory. Following the branching paths of that weave was intensely satisfying, if anything because he could see the everything unfolding with the same intensity with which it would have played out in reality. In the first days of his fight against vampirism, he had experienced how his mind could conjure life of its own and overpower him. But when they worked in tandem, that was when he was most powerful.

'I believe,' he said, putting his hands on the armrests and standing up, 'that we are finished, for the moment. I will be unavailable for an hour or two, and after that I'll be in my quarters if anyone has need of me. Falk, you will leave tomorrow morning at sunrise. Delphine,' he said, looking at the blade from under the hood, 'I presume you'll want to go with him, given the circumstances.'

'Indeed,' the Blade said. 'I'll leave with them directly. Our two recruits can manage on their own for a while.'

'Good,' Azrael said, now standing and putting his palms on the large table. He cast another sweeping glance at everyone there. 'You're dismissed. Phinis, Colette, you go back to your duties.'

The two mages nodded. 'As you will it,' said Colette.

The Dragonborn turned around once as the two of them spoke, folding his hands behind his back and looking vaguely ahead, but with a thousand other images playing before his eyes in addition to the ones coming in through his sight. He heard the sound of the chairs being pushed backwards, away from the table, the bottom of their legs scratching on the stone floor and then falling silent. Three instances of the sound, though many more people were there. Some had more care about making sounds than others. He wondered if there was a criterion that could be used to decide who had made the noise and who hadn't, since he believed he could name exactly who it had been despite not having seen it.

His eyes focused on the real world, and the other images weakened and waned gradually. His gaze drifted on the cover of the books on the bookshelves, running across the back of the Arcanaeum, where Urag's desk was. Two quills lied on it, close to a low pile of white sheets. He remembered the content. They had drafted each of them a few hours before, when the sun was still high in the sky. Now, the light that came into the large library was dim and turning orange. From that moment on, the final plan was in motion.

The footsteps of almost everyone who had sat with him was now going fading, the sounds coming from where the door leading to the stairs was. Almost. There was one pair that was coming closer to him, strolling around him to return to his desk. Urag's. The Orsimer walked in the Dragonrborn's field of vision a few moments afterwards, following the only route he might have possibly been following. His walk was calm and measured. The Orc lived among books and knowledge, a place that would have conquered any other mage's will before long; the fact that he could always remain present and grounded even if immersed in such a well of knowledge was incredible. Azrael had always taken note of how the practical spirit of his people served him well in his duties.

The Orc sat at his desk, grabbing the low pile of papers and looking with a grunt at them. He took the first one and laid it back on the desk, whereas he threw the second to the ground. He continued through the sheets, dividing them in two. The ones that still were useful from the ones who were now obsolete. 'You seem rather confident in the outcome of your plan, Arch-mage,' he said, not raising his eyes from the pages.

'I am.' Azrael moved his head towards the Orsimer, whether before he had only been looking from under the shadow of the hood. He mused for a moment over the question before continuing, but there didn't seem to be any other hidden meaning to it, beside the ones he had guessed immediately. 'With the help of everyone you saw here today, we will have both contenders exactly where we want them to. There is little chance for that to go wrong. The only element that is entirely in our hands in making sure no collateral damage is dealt.'

'I have dispatched everything you asked,' Urag said, half continuing on their current discussion and half picking up the one that they had left unfinished when all the others had arrived. The Orc threw two more pages on the ground. 'Clear instruction have been sent. I'm getting rid of the useless ones right now, as I'm sure you'll have guessed. Some of this reunion's developments made some of them rather redundant. Regardless, you will not find any opposition when you come into Solitude and neither will the other blood-suckers.' He froze briefly and raised his eyes fleetingly at Azrael. 'With all due respect, Archmage.'

The Dragonborn chuckled lowly. 'You needn't worry.' He had noticed, while staying with people who knew of his new nature, that in their minds not all vampires were alike. It was especially true for scholars and sages, who by tying such gruesome monikers to the vampires expressed a moral judgement more than a generalized hatred for their kind. It wasn't like that for most people. Others would have never realized on their own, but seeing someone they trusted having turned into a vampire and still appearing his normal self seemed to make them conscious that, like Men and Mer, not all vampires were alike and not all of them were blood-crazed fiends. Azrael was not surprised at the display of a such a distortion in their thinking; he had felt the pull of that rushed conclusion upon seeing Serana for the first time.

'How many knew?' asked the librarian, nodding towards the door. He put the last sheet on the desk and rested his chin on his palm, stroking the thick white beard. 'Because it was apparent that some had no clue.'

'Only Falk doesn't know.' But it was a plural. The Orc wasn't too attuned to subtleties, which made the utter composure of Karliah and the stern face of Delphine possible indication of their obliviousness to the reality of facts. There was one more thing to say, however. 'Some of them you didn't know, and I suggest you not to try and make hypothesis. You would never guess from where they come from. And I wouldn't answer if you asked me.' Nazir had appositely swapped his red robes for simpler ones that didn't bear the colors of the Brotherhood, Karliah had nothing on that could lead someone to associate her with the Thieves' Guild. She looked like any other Dunmer, and no one would ever associate her violet eyes with the Queen of Murk.

The Orc made a guttural laugh and spread his fangs in the closest thing an Orsimer could do that resembled a grin. 'I understand. If you trusted them with that secret, it's enough for me.' He looked around, at some of the bookshelves. 'It's a pity that we only have so many books on vampirism, and none that mentions your case explicitly.'

'Serana and I can scribble a few notes to add to the Arcaneoum if you so wish.' The understatement was heavy, but required. Urag knew much, but not that Serana was four millennia old. That was knowledge guarded even more carefully than the two of them being vampires. However, they might have passed Serana's knowledge of the Volkihar's story for simple archive work. We might even have some fun doing it. Something they had discovered only of late was that they worked well in intellectual work as well. He brought understanding and she provided judgement.

'All jokes aside,' said Urag, humming to himself, 'that could be a valuable piece of work. Not many Archmages have contributed with one of their works to this library, but it would be something very valuable. Not to mention, we'd be the first to have such in depth knowledge of vampirism. There would be people coming from far away indeed to have something like that.'

The ambition of the Orc seeped through his words, something that Azrael could understand. The prospect of seeing so many people coming here to read that tome is amusing. Especially if they came here hopeful for guidance, only to realize there are is no information inside on how to practically dispose of a vampire. Because that was how it was going to be. A purely academical text. He wouldn't sabotage himself in such a way, and both he and Serana had very believable excuses for knowing so much about vampires. After all, they were the ones who had struck at the heart of the vampire menace, winning where even the Dawnguard had failed. Or at least, that was how they would go down in history. Reality, as it often is, was much more complicated.

'Well,' the Orc said, after a moment of silence. He was gazing emptily at the doors leading out of the library, which Azrael knew being his most concrete representation of the outside world. 'I guess I will have to wait. In the meantime, we should put all our efforts into the current events.'

'Indeed.' Azrael blinked twice, reiterating all information that was left from the meeting and his reflections as he spoke with the Orc. He extended his foot to the side and leaned on it, gradually turning away from the librarian and his desk. 'I'll be in my quarters in a few hours, should you need me.'

'We'll try not to disturb you,' the Orc said, leaning back on his seat and once again attempting at a smile.

Azrael listened to his own muffled footsteps on the stone slabs that made up the floor of the Arcaneoum as he walked towards the set of stairs leading to the outside. He expected his thoughts to start brimming him mind with prospects of the near future soon enough, but they weren't doing it yet. There was still no need to sort through them. He looked first at the big stained glass window once more and then at the shelves in the lobby. Among everything that had happened, he had not returned to the College after the fight with the first vampire. Several noteworthy things had happened in his absence, mainly the results reaped from the changes he had made in his time there. The large pile of maps on the one side and the two opened and half-written manuscripts on the scriptorium beside it were proof of just a couple of those changes.

Being in the College, for every one of its members, gave some semblance of perception of how complicated the world beyond really was. Or at the very least, how big it was. Whoever tackled magic learned that there were things in the world far beyond an individual's control. Azrael suspected it being something that every person with a magical talent thinks on their own regardless of their training, but even while practicing magic he had come to understand that sorcery and thought were almost completely different things. Magic required a certain type of effort, a concentration and control on the ethereal forces that entailed relinquishing control first. It was counter-intuitive, but it taught the person that magic was truly uncontrollable and its force could be but borrowed. That was the thing that clued them into the existence of more powerful forces other than magic.

The Dragonborn found it most interesting that he, someone who was sometimes admired and sometimes revered for his ability to see the details while knowing the big picture, had failed to see the whole of the vampire threat as it rose. I had understood that there was something else, that was what led me to the Volkihar, but I would have never imagined someone like Vyrthur to be pulling the strings. He had long thought to be on a personal quest to overthrow a madman's ambition, and he could have only imagined that it would have spiraled into an attempt to thwart another madman's attempt of revenge on a god. And the god who was his father, whether in symbolic or literary meaning. Sometimes things hide much more than it seems at first glance, and even at second and third glance.

There were two important things that he should have kept in mind. Firstly, Vyrthur's ambition was almost as relentless as his own, and the Snow Elf's failure to see his own plan completed when he was so close to his final objective was bound to have some sort of lesson to learn. Azrael knew that by the end of his life, whether it lasted a few years or a millennia more, he would have too devised plans that were as long-reaching as Vyrthur's. He did not want to repeat his mistakes, to see such a long wait failing to pay off because of such a small inconvenience. But it's also true that the Currents of Time functions differently for me. Many people in the world were subjected to their inhuman games, but he was different. The Dragonborn didn't seem to be affected by fate, instead changing it where he went. It's no wonder I once thought myself a harbinger of fate.

The second thing that the memory of Vyrthur arose was different. He wondered, without been capable of satisfying his own curiosity, how Serana felt after that discovery. When questioned, she had answered that she still needed to think about it. It wasn't exactly true, since what she needed to do wasn't thinking. It was just waiting. It wasn't thought but time that healed her wound, although the two things were very frequently mistaken. From what he knew from their journey together, enough time had passed, but how could he know? Only two days had gone by when we split up. And I wonder what she thought at going to that beach once again.

Deep in his reflections, now that the thoughts about the near future had arisen, he had climbed the stairs to the main gate leading out. The stairs leading up where all very similar across the descent, which gave a strange sense of walking to nowhere. He pushed the gate wing's open with his left hand, raising his right in front of his face to shield the light of the Sun which would have struck him briefly. The hiss of the portal opening was low, but it was the only sound. The students were all in their quarters at that hour. The light did come in at last, touching first his arm and right side. He sensed his whole body tightening in answer to the sweltering sensation that came from his blood vessels. She'll have chosen a shadowed spot, at least.

His eyes, thought partially blinded by the light, scrutinized the yard keenly. The snow-covered plants were still. There was some snow on the statue as well, scattered by the wind. She came in… He looked down at the footprints on the snow, but there were too many, and some were completely scraped by the gales. But then again, she wouldn't go far. He looked at the porches, every small piece that was covered in shadow. That eliminated the side on his left on principle. To the East… There were two plants in between plus the entrance to the student's quarters covering many areas, but he looked nonetheless. He spot something in between one of the pillars. There she is.

Legs tight together, the posture perfect, hands probably held together on her lap, short black cape of the dark grey and crimson cuirass waving behind her, Serana stood on the rim of the porch, looking down at the endless expanse of the sea. Her slender frame was dark against the light of the Sun which came in through the opening, reflected on the stone, lighting up her black hair with strange auburn gleams. How short was her mane now. She seemed to answer the tension coming from deep interpersonal connection by cutting them, as if she couldn't keep all of the intensity inside herself. Now they barely hid the nape of her neck. Which does make her face more visible, though. If she only showed it to me.

'Your hearing's grown ineffective, princess.'

Serana turned in a flash, much more quickly than he had anticipated; he could only formulate the hypothesis that she was so deep in thought that he had startled her, but the expression she had on her face as she turned said otherwise. She broke into a short sprint to cover what distance separated them, and once again she only gave the Dragonborn time to understand how strange and unexplainable he found her affection for him, a question which was ever more intriguing than its direct reverse. There wasn't much more time to think before she caught up to him and embraced him.

It seemed that every time, Azrael had to make a discovery all over again; he had always found the very concept of relationships something strange; he understood it perfectly from the outside, but it hadn't been until the time when he and Elisif had begun wavering between friends and lovers that he had understood something important, which he now had to learn again every time Serana came to him. Beforehand, he had no idea of what to do. But once she was there, he knew. There was something that didn't come from him mind but from the core of his instincts that showed him. It was something as natural as embracing her in turn sometimes, but he always knew what to do. Or rather, knew what he wanted to do. He had still not found the words to describe it perfectly.

With a small effort, he cleared his mind of all thoughts, bringing all his attention to his senses. He felt her almost trying to climb on his cuirass to reach his visage, and tugged her ever so slightly upwards until their lips touched. Her scent was stirring, but despite only being able to associate it with an odor it was not a smell at all. It was her vampiric scent, which so strongly signaled her good feelings and lack of aggression. They never paid too much attention to it, but they could tell when the other was getting farther away just by that. Azrael suspected there was more to it than they realized and that maybe that was the conduit of their instant understanding and harmonious intentions.

He pulled away slightly, and felt no resistance on her part. Their mouths parted, but she brought her hand to his cheek instead. She had gotten into the habit of always caressing the scarred one, following the old wound down to his chin. 'Here you are,' she whispered, their nearly identical eyes looking into one another. Her pupils stretched and elongated, peering through the darkness of his hood.

'You're well, I presume,' he said, sliding his arms down her back before letting go of her.

She nodded, with a radiant smile of her face. 'I am.' A shadow crossed her features, but it was quickly dispelled by an ironic grin which surfaced on her lips. 'There's a limit to how well I can be right now, but within that boundary, yes. The journey was safe and everything was done as you asked. Nobody noticed anything and I'm more then sure they got the message and will fall right into our net.'

'Good. Did you get a sense of which way the wind blows in the Castle?'

'From what I learned, everything seems remarkably calm despite everything that has happened, but there was something I meant to tell you.' A strange meld of emotions glimmered in her eyes. 'I found their calm strange because I had not yet learned that everyone is the castle believes they have found the traitor you had warned them about. I image you remember your last speech.'

'I do. I had not imagined it would take them so little time to find a culprit, however.'

'But they have. I ignored the jokes they made about Garan initially. Nobody would have dared saying things of that sort against him, so I got curious and asked. They said that they had got rid of him. Following the few things I heard, I pinpointed a spot on the coast that had been referenced along with him. And, scattered around that spot, I found ashes and vampire dust spread everywhere by the wind. It's true that cinders don't have a name, but there was only one candidate I could think of.'

That did not line up with what he thought might have happened, and there was one explanation for it. He had predicted the Court's behavior based on the current circumstances as of the time of his last visit, which had accounted for a number of other small factors that would have changes. Lord Harkon would have inevitably retreated further into isolation and the power vacuum would have only increased rivalry. A chaotic situation, the perfect fit for someone such as Garan Marethi. But he had made a misstep. Azrael found one likely hypothesis: that he had probably become too zealous in his attempts to expose who he believed was the traitor. For what end, he didn't know, but Garan was a Dunmer too. He had probably seen through him enough to see his true intentions. The tragic end of the doomsayer. Killed by those he's trying to protect.

There was something that he wanted to know, however. He looked at her for a long moment before asking. 'How do you feel?'

'I still do not know. I don't regret anything. I made my choice when I left with you in search of the bow, so there's no going back now. I still need time.' A trace, a vague glimmer suggested a tear in her right eye. Azrael looked at her face, focused on her words but allowing himself to momentarily looked. If nature were a sculptor, I'd say it did a stunning job molding her visage. 'I know you can imagine how it is, but it is still hard. Sometimes you have to sever the limb to save the body.'

His eyes narrowed. 'Serana, he's not you, and you're not him. You're yourself, remember it. You're not severing anything, but if you want to use that analogy, then whatever limb it is will grow back in time.'

She shook her head, momentarily bringing her eyes away from his. 'Azrael, can we… Talk about what will happen after? You know…' She sighed, bringing her gaze back to his eyes. 'I can't imagine life without the Castle, without my father. What awaits me after we've done everything? If we manage to do everything. And even if we don't, I'll die with a pleasant dream in my memory.'

The sole thought of her dying send a shiver of wrath across his limbs, which he immediately cooled down. 'That,' he said, 'depends on you too. Your mother will probably be back, so that will still be like it was. But I think you'll need a fresh start. Our futures seem bound for the foreseeable future, and I can read your mind up to a point on what you want,' he said, a leer forming on his lips in accordance with the provocation in his voice.

'I know it seems redundant to ask, but are you sure you don't want us to go our separate ways after we've dealt with what remains?'

'It would be both stupid and masochistic. And whatever will happen, nothing is insoluble.' Something clicked in his mind, something both simple and powerful. 'You're probably a bit too old to be my blushing bride, but we've done worse. However, there's an even more redundant question to ask: Do you want us to continue together?'

She smiled teasingly, but there was relief elsewhere in her face. 'Yes, of course. Even if we have to see all eternity together.'

Feelings always summoned hyperbolic thoughts. 'Do you say that to everyone who promises to kill you a father?'

'When I'm in the mood, yes.' She was smiling. He had done that on purpose, because she had never managed to smile before if her father was mentioned. It was something delicate, but not as much before. He didn't suppose her answer to be so premeditated, but it was an answer to two questions: the one he had asked and the one that wondered if she was comfortable being reminded the fate that likely awaited her father. To both, yes, when she was in the mood. An ironic answer for both. 'So…' she said, almost feigning hesitation. 'Together?'

A sneer warped the Dragonborn's lips. 'Until boredom do us part. Regardless, what do you think I'm aiming at with the recent scheming?'

She shook her head, with a look that betrayed all her confusion. 'I have no clue. I know something, but what I can picture seems horribly damaging for everyone, so I'm inclined to guess I haven't understood everything And what are you planning, truly?'

'I'm planning a coronation.' Something from his instincts one again told him what to do. He leaned in closer and kissed her on the forehead, sliding a hand on her shoulder. 'Your coronation to Queen of Day and Night.'