AN: Hey, here's the beginning of the end. The real end. Crazy to think I started this over two years ago now and we're in the final stretch right about now. This section shouldn't be as long as the others, but I think it'll be great still! I don't think it'll quite be what people expect, but it's been the idea since I came up with the full plan of the Serana-Lucius romance around the quarter-way point of Dawnguard.

To Guest: Why can't we have nice things? Well, where's the incredibly depressing fun in that? Seriously though, Serana is great and I had a lot of fun writing her like I did. As for Thera, I wouldn't worry. You'll see how it goes. Anyways, thanks! I'm glad you like the story!

To cturner971/chretner: Yeah, Serana is totally the best. I love her character and her snark so much. I'm glad the story is a good one; I actually think it might be because it ends badly so often without ever getting truly hopeless. That said, I've said a lot about how I like... good endings. Also, how could you not like KH? It may be getting comic book levels of convoluted and time travel, but it's too much fun to not like it!

Jul

Lucius

I stood atop the Throat of the World, my blade pointed at Thera. It had been years since she had murdered Serana, and it was time she pay for it. Finally. She jumped towards me, slapping Dawnbreaker to the side with her glass blade and spinning to decapitate me. I ducked beneath the attack and launched myself forward, slamming my fist into her gut and causing her to stumble backwards. Dawnguard flashed as it arced through the air and towards her collar, only for the elf to lean to the side to avoid the attack. I spun with my momentum and channeled a flash of magickal electricity to my hand. The energy flashed and arced from my palm, rushing through the air and glancing off of her enchanted armor.

She rushed forward and slashed upward diagonally at me. The tip of the weapon missed my throat by mere inches. The smooth skin, now healed completely from the wound that had been dealt to me almost fifteen years prior, burned with the memories long gone. Rage boiled over in my core and I took a deep breath; power grew my my lungs. "SHUL KUN KAAGEND!" I roared, sending the energy flying through the air. Sunlight as bright as that which shined above expanded in the air between us, but the witch was more than quick enough to avoid the blow.

She rammed her shoulder into my gut and wrapped her arms around my midsection, driving me backwards with powerful steps. I snarled and turned the sword in my hand around to bring it down on her back, but she turned into a swarm of bats as I brought it down and reappeared behind me. Her sword care around and clattered against my heavy armor. I felt a bruise begin to blossom beneath the metal as I turned and summoned a Sunlight spell to my hand, one that exploded and began to channel bright light off of my skin. The Vampire hissed and reflexively threw her arm up to guard against the Light. I slashed down at her again and left a searing burn of Sunlight running across her chest. She shrieked in pain and lashed out, her skin becoming bloody red and erupting into the shape of the Vampire Lord that lurked within her. The Light that surrounded me was destroyed, swallowed up by the darkness now emanating from her.

The wing slammed into my shoulder, piercing the metal and causing my left arm to go completely numb. I fought through the pain and brought my blade down on top of the wing, slicing it off. The appendage turned to ash as it fell from my arm, though the wound remained. Thera roared, a noise of rage that likely could be heard miles from this frosty peak, sending a shudder down the spine of any and all who heard it. I slashed upward at her before she could completely recover, though her claw wrapped around my wrist and wrenched my right arm down. Dawnbreaker sank into the snow, handle protruding from the ground. I snarled and cast a quick spell, summoning flames back to my hand and sending a powerful stream of magick along her arm. Flesh bubbled and boiled, but her grip remained firm. In my left hand a blackened void appeared, purple energy swirling around it that shifted its shape suddenly, an ethereal blade popping up in my fist. I slashed upward and the blade glanced the Vampire's face. She let go of me in surprise and clutched at her face.

I dashed backwards a ways and grabbed hold of Dawnbreaker before dismissing the secondary blade. The weapon in my grasp hissed for Vampire's blood and I charged forward before she could fully recover. My blade caught in her shoulder and flame flared up all along her body. "SHUL KUN KAAGEND!" I screamed, and the flames consumed her.

The Bard

"... That was the day the Fifth Era began, but not when the war ended. The Empire had to wage its war for many years after that day, for even without its leader the Aldmeri Dominion remained strong enough to wage a war for some time. Blood and power was the nature of Vampires, and it gave their armies strength enough to resist the Empire's advances. But infighting and overfeeding on their human slaves would weaken the Dominion considerably until, finally, it collapsed under its own weight even as the Imperial Legion advanced on Alinor. It would take nearly a century for the last of the Dominion's Vampires to be hunted down by the Imperial Dawnguard Corp. Three generations of the Imperial Family came and went before peace was achieved, finally. The fourth generation rules now, the Atmoran Bloodline holding strong." The Bard cleared his throat and bowed his head. Those watching clapped. Some came up and gave him compliments, others walked up and handed him gold graced with the face of the first Emperor, whose story he had just completed. The nobleman who had been listening left more than usual and dropped an emerald covered necklace. Who just handed those away? He thanked them either way until, finally, he was left alone in the bar, thinking about how he thought the ending was written so suddenly that he didn't believe it made since... though he personally preferred it to anything else.

The Bard walked over to the bar and paid some of his new gold for a drink and a meal. He sat and covered his eyes with his hands for a while, exhaustion running through him. The plate and flagon clattered against the wood in front of him and he lowered his hands. His peripheral vision caught sight of a figure beside him and he turned slowly, freezing when his eyes met those of this other person. "That was a good story."

The Bard blinked once and returned his attention to his food. "Thank you." He grabbed his fork and began to eat, taking small bites every so often. "I didn't write it of course."

"Hm, is that so?" Wulf asked. He smiled and shook his head before ordering his own drink. "Well, I'm not going to bother contesting that. I'm sure it's true." His drink arrived and he lifted the flagon to his lips, taking a huge swig. He made a satisfied noise before setting it down on the bar again. "Mmm... Black Briar Fourth era. Vintage. I'm glad you decided to tell this story here. Not many places have it anymore."

"I've told it many places," the Bard responded. He shrugged. "Some places have had beer that was more water than anything else. You got lucky seeing me in a place that still sells mead these days. Especially stuff that old. I can't imagine it's actually any good."

"I have old fashioned tastes," Wulf admitted with a shrug. "I doubt anyone these days would drink it. Just means more for me." He took another swig.

The Bard stared at Wulf for a while, but didn't hear any more words. He sighed and returned to his food. He ate quietly for a while, taking bites and drinking every so often without any interruption. He was almost done with his meal when Wulf spoke up again. "So. What is the real story?"

The Bard stopped before his next bit and slowly lowered the fork. "It's the official story of the Empire," the bard pointed out. He moved his food around and narrowed his eyes. "As far as everyone in the world knows, it's the truth."

Wulf laughed, the loud and boisterous noise of a Nord. "Lying? To a god?" he asked. He shook his head.

"Lying?" the Bard echoed.

"Hmph." Wulf turned away from the Bard and shook his head yet again.

"Something wrong?" the Bard asked.

"Tell me the real story," the god stated simply.

"W-what?" the Bard asked incredulously as he began to eat. He coughed nervously and shook his head. He lifted his flagon to his lips. "Ugh... What makes you think that I know?"

"You were there."

The flagon hit the bar.

Wulf smiled softly. "I hit a nerve there, did I?"

"... I..." the Bard shut his eyes and ran his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. "I... wasn't there."

Wulf remained silent.

The bard glanced over. "Why do you want to know? You're a god. You should already know."

"I want the first hand account. I'm a god of war, of the Empire, and of Man. This song you sang isn't the truth of Man's war." Wulf leaned forward on his elbows. "Isn't that right..?" He whispered a name. The bard's blood turned to ice.

It was silent for a while. "The real story?" the Bard asked hoarsely. He clasped his hands in front of him and rested his chin on top of them. "It begins in the Imperial City at the peak of the Dawn War."

Jul

Octavian

I was late. Really late. "Daedra spit, Daedra spit, Daedra spit," I chanted over and over while making my way full speed down the street of the Imperial City, moving between the people in the crowd a lot better than my six and a quarter foot frame would suggest. I slid to a stop at a corner and scrabbled to begin running at full speed left from where I was moving. "Oh, come on, he's not going to be happy..." I raised my left hand in front of me and began to channel magicka through my palm. A burst of golden energy appeared and bathed me in its glow, a Haste spell. My speed and agility began to increase until I was running faster than any human should, even one with my lineage. I was getting closer to the Imperial Palace. It, uh... I probably was going to get there fast enough. Even if I'd have to sneak past a half dozen of the obvious Blades hanging around, and who knows how many of the ones hiding out in the crowd looking for me.

She wasn't going to be happy if I was late today. Well, she was never happy when I was late, but he really wouldn't be happy about it today. The dignitaries from Morrowind were arriving today, and literally anything was insulting to those guys. The Secundus of the Empire not showing up to say hello to them as they entered the palace? That one would really not make them happy. But what could I say? I had things to do. Ugh, Grand Blade Dorthe was so addicted to the rules.

"Ugh..." I groaned as I surveyed the palace. Thankfully, it looked like my usual in and out for the palace was perfectly fine. I grinned and began to sneak towards the secret door I'd found back when I'd first arrived almost thirteen years ago now. I pulled up beside a building and leaned out slightly to catch sight of a few Blades, most of them out of uniform. Most of them were not nearly as clever and sneaky as they thought they were. I waited until they began to look in different directions, then sprinted between them with silent steps. I pressed up against the Palace's wall and moved my hand along the stone, placing it on the stone in the exact place that would open the door when graced with the presence of Dragonblood. Stone turned intangible and I slipped through, into the palace.

The passageway was black, a pitch that was born from a complete lack of light. I nimbly moved around the traps that rested in the passageway, a combination of memory and my better than normal vision in the darkness telling me where was safe and where was not. Under my breath I began to sing "Oh, there once was a man named Ragnar the Red, who went riding from Whiterun to Ol' Rorikstead..." The rest was only humming. Another trap came and went. I was getting dirty. Way too dirty for the Dunmer to appreciate. I reached the end of the tunnel and opened the door as slowly as I could. I poked my head and looked one way down the hallway.

"Whatcha doin'?"

I started and turned my head the other way. A woman about my age stood beside me, with long red hair and emerald eyes. The woman had an armored dress on, with nordic carved steel covering her chest, shoulders, and arms over a form fitting blue and silver dress. She looked like a battle maiden of Kyne herself. "Oh, good. It's just you, Tora," I said, pushing out of the passageway and closing it behind me as quietly as I could, then pulled up close to her. "Delphine and Dorthe aren't mad are they?"

"No, they're still talking with my parents and the Emperor," Tora explained. She shrugged and laughed. "None of them knows that you're late. Yet."

"Good," I breathed. I scratched the back of my dust covered head, sending a cloud into the air. She raised one hand and poked me in the shoulder hard enough to force me away. "Oh, you don't want me close?"

"It took me all morning to get dressed, Oct. And even longer to convince your father's advisors to let me dress like a Nord." She crossed her arms and took a step away from me. "Doesn't matter whose face it is, I'm not letting it make me dusty. They'll get Dorthe and the Emperor to dress me without a weapon." She patted the ax hanging from her hip.

"Still can't believe you talked them into letting you keep that..."

"Well if the elves can bring their magic – and your dad can be... your dad – why can't I bring one tiny ax?" she asked mockingly.

"Well compared to some spells that's pretty fair." I shrugged, then leaned in faster than she was willing to react, and kissed her cheek. "See you at the banquet, Princess."

"Of course you will: you can't keep your eyes off of me," she said, mock disappointment dripping from her voice. "Now go before you get me dustier." Despite her claim she wasn't happy to be dusty, she didn't wipe her cheek off.

"If you insist," I said with a half bow. I couldn't resist, however, and left her with another kiss on her cheek before running off. I just heard an exasperated sigh as I took off. Tora, daughter of Queen Elisif the Fair of Skyrim and her King-Consort Falk Firebeard, was nothing if not fun to be around. Gods, I was so happy she was training with the Blades instead of learning politics back in Skyrim. I don't think I could've survived this gods forsaken city without her. Definitely couldn't have survived what happened to my mother without her. Being five years old without any friends and no mother in the largest house in Tamriel was emotionally crippling. Dad didn't have much time, either. He tried, I know, but Emperors don't get to have private time with their families. They're everyone's dad. At least that's how my tutors tried to put it when I was seven and crying that my father wasn't around.

I pulled my door open and moved inside silently, already tearing off my clothes and slamming the door shut. When the tunic was around my head, the rough commoners' material irritating my face and getting dust in my nose. I sneezed and finally got it off from around my head. "Oh, that was a great day," I muttered before hiding the tunic beneath my bed, and it was quickly followed by my pants and boots. I raised my hand over my head and cast a spell, channeling a cleansing magick along my skin and causing the dust to disappear completely. I began to dress in the golden and red ceremonial armor of the Imperial Family, which would be draped over by the purple and gold robes of the Secundus – the Grand Prince of the Atmoran Empire. "Niramo and Fen know how to have a good time. I needed that."

I pulled a familiar black cape up to my shoulders and clasped it to my armor, carefully and letting my fingers linger on it for a moment. Eventually, as my mind returned to the day's events, so too did it return to thoughts of the High Elf Quarter... My father had never liked the idea of the High Elf Quarter, a veritable ghetto at the outskirts of the city. He had been trying to encourage the Altmer to live in the other regions of the city for nearly eight years now, but they weren't the only problem. Over a decade and a half of war and other conflicts with little rest had turned many of the people in the Empire... cold. High Elves were treated poorly, and many humans – even nobles of the Empire and members of the still powerful Synod had actually called for their expulsion from the Empire completely. Niramo and Fen were friends of mine who'd joined the Legion – High Elves that joined the Legion. I'd asked Fen why once and he'd said, "Why not? The Imperial City is my home, too, Prince. Besides, they're Vampires. If I don't kill them, who will?" Then he'd laughed it off. With the campaigns picking up again once the spring began, they would be heading out for their first tour. It'd be a long time until I could sneak out again, so this had been one last hurrah before they left and my dad forced me to stay behind. More important though was what today was for me, personally. They knew I couldn't be alone in the palace on a day like that one.

The door shook when someone began to knock and I turned hurriedly. "Uh... Coming!" I shouted. I moved towards it and pulled it open. "Who – Oh... Dad."

The Emperor of Tamriel, Dragonborn, Slayer of Alduin, former Archmage of Winterhold, former Harbinger of the Companions, Dawnguard, former Aldmeri Assassin, enemy to the Skaal, and a thousand other titles. He was slightly taller than me, and he held a commanding presence despite the fact that the strength of youth had mostly left him. A long, wide scar that stretched from the top of his throat to the bottom of his voicebox marred the skin of his neck, though it was mostly obscured by the beard he began to grow and maintain when we'd first met. It was turning a white-gray and matched the white appearing on his temples. The Emperor was dressed in ceremonial armor as well, though with a blood red Imperial cloak and robes with the silvery dragon of the Empire featured prominently on the cloth. He smiled softly at me from beneath the beard. I turned from the door. "I'm almost ready, Dad, you don't need to check on me."

He said something I couldn't quite catch and turned. He said it again, and the hoarse whisper – the absolute loudest he could manage after his wound had destroyed his vocal chords and power over the Voice – came from his mouth again. I heard him this time, if just barely. "Oct," he said, so quiet that, even after thirteen years I was unsure I heard him correctly, "I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

Oh, now he remembered. He doesn't really interact with me all year, and now he remembers to try. Same story every year. "I'm fine." I moved to the other side of the room and picked up the ceremonial sword that I would strap to my hip, a blade carved from Ebony and inlaid with swirling bats and dragons on the scabbard. "I'll see you at the banquet."

He walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Octavian... Won't you talk with me?"

"I'll get in a shouting match. I'll win," I responded simply. The Emperor looked sadly at the ground before matching my gaze. The fire of a Dragonborn glared out again and he blocked my path. "What do you want, old man?"

He sighed and wringed his hands for a moment. Finally, he placed his hands on my shoulders and tried to summon a smile to his face. "Are you okay? Today is not easy for either of us, and I want to make sure -"

"Don't worry, you asked your obligatory once a year question of me. I'm fine," I snapped before brushing past him. "I'll see you at the banquet."

Lucius Atmoran stood in the center of my room, a sad look on his face as he gazed after me. I stopped at the door and glanced back at him. "I wish it had been your memorial instead of mom's."

Then I turned and left, barely hearing my father's sad rasping of, "And I don't?"