Arven was starting to tire of travelling recently. It certainly wasn't a new thing for him. After becoming the Dragonborn, he'd he'd travelled all over Skyrim. But he couldn't help but wonder, just why was Fort Dawnguard built as far away from everything as possible? A towering, impressive fort build in a comfortable little corner that took days to get to.
"We should've kept those damn horses," Arven muttered under his breath.
"Oh? Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say," Serana replied. "I was wondering when you'd realise that I'm practically a genius."
"Not even close. No, I just don't think anyone should have to walk as much as we have in the past few weeks. I used to like it, the lack of people, the quietness, it was sort of relaxing. But now I think I've done enough walking to last a lifetime," Arven said.
It wasn't all bad, though. It'd be a lie for the man to say that the time spent with Serana wasn't something he thoroughly enjoyed. Even when they were simply walking in silence under the night sky.
"Hey, I keep suggesting we take a break," Serana said.
Arven grunted. The more she suggested that, the more enticing it sounded. He had struggled, severely, to get out of bed that morning. Not because he was tired or drowsy, he hadn't felt the need to sleep at all. Being a vampire was giving him even more energy than he normally had, and since he'd done nothing but travel and wander around the college the previous day there was no reason for him to lie down.
Serana, however, was still recovering from her fight with Garan. So after they had retired to their room, after a while she ended up falling asleep. She had said she wasn't tired, but while reading a book on alchemy eventually Arven heard the sound of her dropping the book onto her lap. A second later and she slumped up against him.
He didn't have the heart to move her at the time. Eventually she'd gotten comfortable in her sleep, cuddling up to his side. At one point she simply rested her head on her chest, one arm wrapped around his body. He was trapped for a few hours, as any movement would've woken her. But he couldn't bring himself to do that.
So he spent quite some time reading the book she'd dropped. He didn't understand any of it, but it passed the time.
"No, no breaks," Arven said as he blinked, shaking away those memories. "There's too much to do."
"Always such a bore," Serana teased.
"No one's stopping you from taking a break," Arven replied.
"What, and leave you alone? Considering how accident prone you are, you'd last a day. Two, max," Serana replied, looking at him with a coy, accusatory glare.
"I survived pretty well on my own before I met you, you know," Arven said.
"And that'll remain one of the greatest mysteries of our time," Serana retorted, prompting Arven to let out a scoff.
"Don't tempt me though, I'm not eager to get back to the Fort," she continued.
"It'll only be a quick stop. Drop in, talk to the priest, then we can leave right after," Arven said. He was slightly nervous about returning to the Fort. Serana's disguises were masterful, but considering Isran's paranoia it wouldn't surprise him if he ended up testing Arven in some way.
"I hope you're right," Serana said. "I'm half tempted to read one of these scrolls myself. It can't be that difficult, right?" She mused. She was joking, of course. The dangers of reading a scroll were known to anyone that knew of their existence.
Arven smirked. "It was pretty easy when I did it," he said.
"Very funny," Serana replied, looking at him. Arven just gave her a slightly cocky grin.
"…You're kidding, right?" She prompted.
"Maybe," Arven said.
"Yeah, no way. Even with everything you've done, there's no way you've read a damn Elder Scroll," Serana stated, as if it was fact.
"Hey, if you say so," Arven concluded before he just continued on walking, dropping the subject. There was a moment of silence between them that carried on, but the entire time Serana was staring him down.
"Okay, seriously. Did you?" She finally asked.
Arven let out a brief laugh. "Like you said, there's no way, right?" He said,
Serana just stared him down in return, a rather unimpressed look on her face.
Arven held his tongue for a while longer before he finally relented. "Alright, alright. I did. I had to read one to learn a certain shout. I'm pretty sure I told you that before," he said.
"I think so. I just assumed you got a Moth Priest to read it, if someone even read it at all," she said.
"Nope, it was all me."
"So the shout was written on the scroll then? That's not what I'd expect."
"Nah, it wasn't. I don't even know what was, I just read the scroll and I went back in time. Heard the shout from some old Nords," Arven continued. He knew how outlandish this sounded, and he was wording his story in a certain way to emphasise that fact.
"Okay I know you're just messing with me now," Serana said.
Once again, Arven just shrugged while giving her an insufferable smirk.
"There's no magic that lets you travel through time, Arven. I'm not that gullible," she continued.
Arven raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't realise you were an expert on Elder Scrolls," he commented.
Serana rolled her eyes. Then she shoved him in the arm, making him take a few steps to the side.
This time though, Arven pushed her back, using just a little bit more force than she had. This almost shocked her, since he normally just accepted it whenever she was feeling childish and playfully shoved or kicked him. She looked at him, her eyes wide with a slight amount of shock.
So, she did the only natural thing. She shoved him back, harder.
There, in the dead of the night stood two Vampire Lords. Two of the strongest beings in Skyrim, and possibly Tamriel. Immortal beings of legend with strength and power that most could only fathom in their wildest dreams.
And they were having a shoving match, giggling like children the entire time.
After their 'squabble', the two continued on towards Fort Dawnguard. Most of the trip passed with idle chatter or a comfortable silence. At one point their usual roles of teacher and student had been reversed, after Serana asked Arven to teach her how to use restoration magic.
The request shocked Arven slightly but it made sense. After he showed her how useful it could be, why wouldn't she want to know how to use it?
Arven had asked why it wasn't more common among vampires, and Serana had simply assumed it was either due to arrogance or ignorance. Or both.
The lesson didn't exactly go smoothly. Arven was a far better student than instructor, and Serana's natural talent in other areas of magic worked against her as she was too eager to start casting spells. That backfired when she ended up using regular restoration magic initially, burning herself.
But the two continued, and by the time they approached the valley leading to Fort Dawnguard Serana had gotten to the point where she could emit a dull golden glow from one hand without harming herself. She seemed frustrated with her progress, but such a thing took Arven months to learn initially.
The lessons didn't conclude naturally, however. They only did so due to the eerie chill the two felt as they neared the fort.
"This feels different," Arven said as the two walked through the valley. The fort itself wasn't in sight yet, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in the air. Arven felt as if he was being watched, with the occasional shiver running down his spine.
"Remember when I said that I hated this place?" Serana asked, looking to him. "This is what I meant."
Arven did remember, although he didn't quite understand the degree to which the fort was enchanted. Even a few minutes out, he felt like he shouldn't be here. Like he should turn around and leave.
"It's only going to get stronger, isn't it?" He asked.
"Unfortunately, yeah," Serana responded. "It feels more intense than it did last time we were here, though."
"Oh, how wonderful," Arven commented. "Do you think we can convince them to meet somewhere else? Somewhere without the gloomy décor?" As they walked, Arven couldn't help but notice some 'additions' to the valley. Up on the ridges to either side, spikes had been erected. These spikes had the heads of vampires mounted on them. At least, that's what Arven hoped they were.
"This seems almost fanatical," Arven continued.
"It really does," Serana said. Frowning, she reached out, grabbing Arven's arm to pull him to a stop.
"I know some of these people are your friends, Arven, but before we go in there," Serana started before she trailed off, trying to find the right thing to say. "Just be careful, okay? You're not one of them anymore. I don't know if you can expect the same hospitality."
"What do you mean?" Arven asked with a slight pang in his chest. "I am still one of them, regardless of what I am now."
"I know, you are. Sorry, I didn't word that right," she said, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. "You're the same person. You haven't changed, not one bit. But they might not see things that way," she explained.
Arven raised a brow, prompting her to continue.
"These people all have one thing in common. They hate vampires, more than anything. And because of that, there's a real chance that they might see you as a vampire first, and a vampire hunter second. Even though you've worked with them in the past," she said.
Arven paused, thinking to himself. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but he knew first-hand just how blinding someone's hatred could be. If he thought about how he'd react in a similar situation, before he met Serana? He'd at least be distrusting, if not downright hostile depending on the person.
"There's a chance I'm wrong, and I really hope that I am. But just in case we get there, and they only see you as a vampire? One that's been corrupted by me? I need you to be prepared, okay?" Serana stated.
Arven didn't verbally respond. He just nodded to her, mulling over his thoughts. He was sure most of the Dawnguard would be understanding, but the more he thought about it, the more he became doubtful.
A warrior that travels with a vampire suddenly dies and is brought back to life as a vampire himself? There's plenty of reason to doubt a story like that. From an outsider's perspective, especially one of a vampire hunter, the first thing they'd assume is that Serana manipulated and twisted him. Pushed him into a corner where he had no other choice. And now, as a vampire, she'd be using that to turn him to her side.
Arven shook his head, trying to expel the thoughts from his mind. But he couldn't. It stuck there, clinging to him. Seeing the mutilated bodies of vampires put on display as they walked certainly didn't do much to quell that feeling of unease.
By the time the fort had come into view, Arven's worries continued to grow. The fort had been increasingly fortified in the time that they were gone. Where quickly established palisade walls had stood previously, now there was a solid stone wall. The fort itself, and by extension the front courtyard and training area were all being built up to the point where it was essentially impenetrable.
Small watch towers had been erected behind the stone wall as well, providing crossbowmen with a higher vantage point. The top and base of the tower were protected by spikes, with no way to get to the top besides one ladder.
"How did they build all this so quick?" Arven asked. "How long have we been gone?"
"Weeks. I haven't actually checked the date since we left the Soul Cairn," Serana responded. "But even still, this is impressive."
The various guards in the watch towers stared as Serana and Arven approached. The moon was out and it was the middle of the night, so understandably, the Dawnguard were on high alert.
"It looks like there's been more attacks as well," Serana said. "But there's too many to all be from father's court. They must be picking fights with smaller packs of vampires throughout Skyrim."
"It looks like they're winning," Arven said. A statement like that should've brought some level of joy, but it brought nothing but more apprehension. He hated this feeling.
Eventually they came to the main gate. The same gate where Arven had been attacked by vampires posing as refugees. In the same fashion as last time, they were stopped by a guard.
"Stop where you are," a voice called from the wall. "Identify yourselves."
Arven, who was currently under an illusion spell from Serana, removed his hood and looked up to the two. "Arven, member of the Dawnguard. I've returned to speak with the Moth Priest, if he's still here."
The guard on the wall paused for a moment. He wasn't someone Arven recognised.
"The warrior with Dawnbreaker? You don't match the description I've got," the guard responded.
Arven let out a deep sight. "Can't you see the scrolls we're carrying?" He asked, pointing to the Elder Scrolls that he and Serana were carrying.
The guard's eyes opened in realisation for a moment, before they then narrowed. "This is the vampire, then?" he asked, motioning to Serana.
"This is Serana, yes," Arven responded.
The guard hesitated, turning to quietly discuss things with another guard who had come up to see what the commotion was about. They were whispering to each other, but Arven could still make out some of the conversation.
"Do we really have to let that bitch in?" One asked. Words which made Arven's blood begin to boil. But Serana reached out, placing a hand on his arm to calm him.
A moment later and the gate opened up for them without another word from the guards. Arven and Serana both walked through, picking up their pace to get through the uncomfortable camp as quickly as they could.
By the time they reached the fort's entrance Arven was almost in physical pain. The presence of the fort somehow not only made him agitated and uncomfortable, but he also felt weaker. Whatever spells or enchantments had been placed on the fort were incredibly effective.
"You really came here to find me, all that time ago? I'm surprised you didn't turn around, or at least wait for me to leave," Arven said, remembering how he'd found Serana waiting for him at the fort after he'd gone to recruit members for the Dawnguard.
"I thought about waiting for you in the valley, but I felt like it would've been harder for you to trust me. Meeting you here, I was putting myself in danger to speak to you. I had hoped that by doing so, you'd be more likely to hear me out," Serana explained.
And she was right. That was part of the reason Arven listened to her in the first place. But back then he didn't realise just how bad it would've been for her.
Opening the main door to the hall, Arven found that he wasn't actually surprised to see Isran awake at this hour. The man was standing on the opposite side of the hall, arms folded across his broad chest with his warhammer resting across his back. The head of that warhammer seemed far brighter than the last time Arven had seen it.
"Boy," Isran commented as Arven entered the main hall.
"Isran," Arven greeted. "You're certainly up late."
"Step into the circle, lad," Isran said.
Arven let out a long, deep sigh. "Well, he figured that out quickly," he whispered to Serana. Looking at her he saw the worry on her face, but he offered her a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine, I promise. You can drop the illusion."
Despite her better judgement, Serana did so. She dispelled the magic she had cast on Arven, and now his eyes appeared as a deep, sanguine red.
"No need," Arven said to Isran, no longer hiding the fact of what he had become. He noticed off to the side other Dawnguard members staring at him, eyes wide with shock. Gunmar and Sorine were there as well.
He noticed most of the members were armed.
"Shit," Isran cursed beneath his breath. "Didn't I tell you not to be an idiot?"
Arven shrugged in response. "Bit off more than I could chew getting these scrolls," he responded.
"What the hell did she do to you?" Isran asked.
Arven's brow furrowed. "She saved me," he said. "I was killed, then she brought me back by turning me."
Isran just scoffed, a look of anger appearing on his face. "You were killed? What the hell managed to kill you? Do you even remember it? How do you know that she didn't set it all up, looking for an excuse to do this to you?" The accusations came from Isran hard and fast. They reminded Arven very strongly of how he spoke to Serana when they first met. How he immediately assumed the worst.
"Like I said," Arven replied through grit teeth. "Serana saved me. Not only that, but without her we wouldn't have found the last scroll. It's because of her that I'm alive and we have what we need to find this bow."
As he spoke Serana walked up to his side, leaning in close to him. "Arven, this isn't good. We need to talk our way out of this," she whispered to him.
Looking away from Isran, Arven saw what she meant. More members of the Dawnguard had appeared, each of them armed. They all looked incredibly nervous. Anxious. Some looked like they didn't want to be there, but some of them almost had a bloodlust in their eyes.
"Where's the Moth Priest?" Arven asked.
"Heading back to Cyrodiil. Now that he's blind he can't help us," Isran said.
"He's blind? How did that happen?" Arven asked.
"Damned fool pushed himself too far," Isran said. Then he pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket, holding it up. "But we've got a contingency plan."
"Alright, let's hear it then. The sooner we can get this sorted the better," Arven said.
There was a moment of silence before Isran spoke again. He shook his head, as if he wasn't happy with what he was about to do. Almost like he was conflicted. "Give me the scrolls, boy. And your sword. Then get out of here and don't return."
"What? What the hell do you mean by that?" Arven asked. "I brought these scrolls here so we could figure out where to find the bow, then go and defeat Harkon together."
"And you've done that. You've brough the scrolls. Now leave them here and get out of my fort before my patience runs its course," Isran replied.
"So what, just because I'm a vampire now I'm useless to you?" Arven asked, his voice starting to rise.
"Because you're one of them now we can't trust you!" Isran snapped. "Don't you get it now boy? You're a monster. A blood-sucking leech. I was wrong to trust her, because she turned you into one of them! And I'm not making the same mistake twice."
"Don't do this, Isran," Arven pleaded in a far quieter voice. "We're the two best tools you've got against Harkon. Without us you don't stand a chance."
"And with you, we're likely to get stabbed in the back and offered up to those monstrosities the second we let down our guard," Isran replied. A small murmur of agreement came from some other members throughout the main hall.
"If that was the case it would've happened already!" Arven yelled back. "How do you not get it yet? If I wasn't on your side, what would I have to gain by coming back here? If I was really aligned with the vampires, then you've already lost!"
Arven hadn't noticed, but behind him Serana was standing on edge. She hadn't drawn any weapons, but she was ready to do so within an instant.
"We've got the three scrolls. We could've gone to Cyrodiil, found another priest and had them deciphered. Then the bow would belong to us and we could've fulfilled the prophecy. At no point would we have needed to come back here until we had the bow in our hands and had blocked out the Sun," Arven continued.
"Don't you understand? I get how paranoid you are. I get how distrusting you are, I was the exact same way. But the only reason I'm vampire now is because if I wasn't, I'd be dead. I'd be a lifeless corpse in some god-forsaken corner of oblivion. But I'm not dead. I'm right here, and vampire or not, I'm still the same person!" As Arven pleaded his case, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, he could feel the tension starting to lessen. Some of the warriors had relaxed a grip on the hilt of their sheathed weapons.
What Arven said made sense, of course. He was telling the truth, and most of them were starting to see that. But not all of them.
"Liar!" A voice rang out, a woman standing to the side of the room wearing light armour. Arven looked to her, confused. He didn't recognise her.
"He's a liar, just like the rest! A blood-sucking bastard!" The woman continued to yell. The voice wasn't one Arven had heard before. But after a moment, he recognised the look in her eyes. He'd seen that fear before.
Shortly after he had turned and was stuck in the cave. The wood elf who had been captured by the bandits. Who had seen him tear apart her captors.
Arven felt a deep fear settle into his heart.
Oh no.
"I've seen you! I've seen what you do to people! You tear them apart, limb from limb. And you enjoy it! You're no Dawnguard, just another monster," the woman cried out. There was silence in the room except for her.
Arven didn't know what to say.
"Arven, who is that?" Serana whispered urgently, clearly lost.
"She's the woman who I almost killed after I turned. She saw me kill those people," Arven said back, his words barely above a whisper. His face had become even more pale, if such a thing was possible.
Serana's expression dropped. "Arven, we need to go. Right now!" She said to him.
"What are you talking about, girl?" Isran asked, looking to the wood elf.
"I've seen this man before. Before I joined the Dawnguard. He's the vampire that I've talked about!" The woman announced. Realisation seemed to break out on some of the other warrior's faces. Realisation, followed by hatred.
"When I was captured he attacked the bandits who attacked me. He mutilated them. Tore their limbs off! He destroyed them, and he laughed while doing it!" She continued.
"I didn't mean to," Arven responded, yet his voice was weak.
"Don't listen to his lies, he's a disgusting vampire and nothing more!" The woman exclaimed. She was panting heavily, and Arven could hear her heartbeat. He could sense her fear. He could hear the heartbeats of every single person standing in the room, an orchestra of adrenaline and anxiety that was very quickly starting to reach a crescendo.
After hearing all this, Isran pulled his warhammer free from its sheath, holding it in both hands.
"This isn't your fault, lad," Isran said. "And this isn't personal. But you can't be trusted. No vampire can."
"Arven, watch out!" Serana said as she pulled him out of the way. He was momentarily stunned by the wood elf, the conviction with which she denounced him, and the pure fear she felt in her heart. As Serana pulled him a crossbow bolt flew past his head, snapping against the stone on a far wall.
Just as it did, the main doors to Fort Dawnguard had been barricaded behind them, and Arven and Serana found themselves surrounded on all sides.
"I'll try and make this quick, boy," Isran said. Then, the older man charged.
Arven was still momentarily shocked, but as soon as he saw Serana summon a blade in one hand with lightning crackling around her other, the reality of the situation hit him.
"Wait, no!" He cried out. "Don't do this!"
His words fell on deaf ears. Another crossbow bolt flew, this time towards Serana. She dodged it effortlessly, but it was one of many. A few more were let loose as members of the Dawnguard all charged, and Arven's shock was interrupted by a searing pain in his left shoulder.
He looked down, seeing a silver bolt buried deep into his flesh. It stung. It hurt, and his blood was starting to flare up.
Shaking his head, Arven summoned an ethereal blade on instinct and turned his back to Serana, the two covering for each other as they stood in the centre of the room. One soldier had approached him, a silver hatchet raised high to attempt to cleave Arven's head in two.
After tearing the bolt free from his shoulder he reached up, catching the man's hand before he kicked him square in the chest, sending the man stumbling, almost flying back into another warrior.
As he did so he heard a blast of lightning ring out behind him. Turning his head he called out.
"Don't kill them!" He pleaded to Serana.
"I'll try! But I don't have much choice," Serana called back. She was already trying to conduct non-lethal attacks. Either out of a new habit, or out of consideration for Arven, but there was only so much she could do. Her first blast sent a man flying back against the stone walls surrounding them, concussing him.
Just afterwards Serana threw her hand to the sky. She summoned as much ice as she could, a torrent of icicles and mist erupting from her hand which quickly filled the room. Visibility in the hall became poor within seconds. A regular human could barely see their own hands, but Serana and Arven were still capable of at least seeing the outlines of everyone else.
"We need to fight towards the exit!" Serana called out.
"I need that note first!" Arven replied. "We don't know how to use the scrolls otherwise."
Despite the new conditions, the Dawnguard kept coming. Two more armed fighters came at Arven, one with a sword and another with a hatchet.
"Don't," Arven said. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Shut up!" One of the men called out. "I've fallen for the lies of a vampire once. Never again!" The two members advanced, fighting in practised manoeuvres. One used their shield trying to draw Arven's attention while the other tried to circle around him, goading him into doing something foolish or reckless.
Unfortunately for them, Arven was a far better fighter than most vampires. Despite being one, he didn't fight like one. As the shielded warrior lowered his protection, trying to trick Arven into committing to an attack, Arven stepped forward with a feint.
At the last minute he shifted to the side, striking out with a purposely dulled ethereal blade to slam the other warrior on the helmet, knocking him unconscious. Considering just how quickly he could move there was no time for either of the Dawnguard to react to the feint, and as the shieldbearer was trying to process what happened Arven grabbed his sword with both hands and swung it at the man.
He intentionally struck him on the shield dead-centre, smashing it into pieces while sending the man sprawling back.
Behind him, Serana was doing her best to incapacitate as many members of the Dawnguard as she could. Several men and women had either their feet, or their hands bound in ice. She'd disarmed another with her sword, and stabbed a man in the thigh to stop him from getting back up.
The fight was messy. Horrifically messy. More crossbow bolts were let loose. Arven and Serana had the reflexes to dodge them, yet unfortunately this resulted in the bolts striking other Dawnguard.
"Fucking hell, they're going to kill each other!" Arven cursed, placing his back against Serana's once more.
"Don't think about it. Just defend yourself!" Serana replied.
"How can I not? I know these people!"
Following a blast of lighting Arven felt a tug on his shoulder. Serana had grabbed him, making eye contact. Her face was stricken with anger, but Arven could see a legitimate sadness hiding behind the exterior.
"They chose this," Serana said before she had to turn back, raising her blade to counter another assault.
Arven wanted to diffuse the situation. He wanted to talk everyone down. But the Dawnguard members weren't fighting logically. They weren't thinking. They were in a frenzy, he could hear it. And they saw two vampires that they could take out their frustrations on.
Trying not to focus on the anger at the situation welling up inside of him Arven sprinted to the outskirts of the room. He found one crossbowman and struck her down, delivering a punch that knocked the woman unconscious.
While he was quick, far quicker than any human in the room, the enchantments littered throughout the fort had him feeling sluggish. Just as he turned to the next attacker he moved too slowly, and another bolt struck him. This bolt pierced through his stomach, causing Arven to grunt through a burst of pain that shocked his body.
"Arven!" Serana called out, hearing the pain in his voice even through the sounds of disoriented battle surrounding her. But she had too much to deal with in her immediate surroundings to go to him.
Not only was the fort sapping her strength, but trying to use non-lethal attacks slowed her further. Her natural instinct in fighting was to kill. That's how she trained for centuries. Going against that took a staggering amount of self-control.
Arven turned to his attacker and lunged, unintentionally bearing his fangs as he did so from the anger of being hurt. He ducked the next attack, a bolt flying overhead before he raised his sword high in the air. Then, he saw the look of fear mixed with determination across Sorine's face. She had her crossbow lowered, trying to re-load it.
Arven's heart ached. This wasn't someone he wanted to fight. This was someone he wanted to fight alongside. Yet the look in her eyes told him that she was ready to kill him.
Before she could reload he closed the gap between the two and struck her with the pommel of his sword. Sorine, unable to react in time was knocked to the floor, dropping her hand-crafted crossbow. By the time she opened her eyes Arven was standing over her, sword raised high.
Arven felt his blood pumping. He could hear the blood pumping in every other person's veins throughout the room. The sound, the scent of fresh blood splattering over the stone walls was exhilarating. It made him want to fight more. He wanted to relish in this feeling. Lose himself in it.
Beneath him was someone too slow to fight him. Too weak. They had challenged him and lost. So, naturally, they deserved death.
No!
Seeing the glint of a silver blade, Arven swung his sword down as Sorine went to stab him with a dagger she drew from her belt. Instead of swinging the sword down across her neck, slitting her throat and spilling her blood all over the floor and himself Arven parried her dagger, sending the blade flying into the blizzard. His hands were shaking, fighting away the bloodlust that he felt.
Sorine looked up at him, almost petrified. She was unarmed now, and entirely helpless at the hands of a vampire.
Arven looked her in the eye, his piercing red irises making her freeze in place.
"Stay down," Arven growled through grit teeth before he turned away and dived back into the midst of the fighting.
Sorine couldn't react. She stayed where she was, chest rising and falling, heaving with panicked breaths as her mind was totally blank.
On the other side of the room Serana yelled. It was a yell of frustration and anger, parrying the blade of a Dawnguard member before she held out a hand and blasted him away with lightning. At the last second she aimed her hand down, changing it from a lethal attack into one that left the man crippled instead, his leg below the knee being blown clear off.
Shocked at the anger towards herself that came from such an act she turned around to face the next attacker, but instead she found herself blinded. A searing, painfully bright light had emerged from the blizzard. She raised a hand to shield her eyes on reflex, and saw the outline of a towering, hulking man with a two-handed hammer moments before she felt something strike her torso.
The head of Isran's hammer struck her dead-centre, the enchanted silver ingot resting on the head of the warhammer flooding her body with blinding pain as she was knocked backward. All the air left her lungs, and a cry that escaped her lips only managed to come out as a breathless gasp. Her body ragdolled across the floor while her chest felt like it had been attacked with a red hot piece of iron.
She managed to find her balance, but by the time she got to her feet Isran was charging at her once again, hammer raised high. Whatever he had done to that hammer, whatever enchantment he used made the weapon brighter than the sun to any vampire that laid eyes on it. She held her arms above her head to try and protect herself, but just before Isran struck her the man was tackled. Arven came sprinting from out of sight, lunging right for Isran.
The older man turned just in time to hold out his hammer, using the hilt to try and block Arven's 'attack'. The vampire in return grabbed the hilt of the hammer, and the two went sprawling on the ground as the force behind Arven's lunge sent them both a considerable distance away from Serana.
Arven's eyes were deep red and bloodshot, his fangs fully exposed with saliva dripping down them. He hated Isran in this moment. Both for his stupidity and distrust, and for how he just hurt Serana. As the two came to a stop Isran shoved him aside, managing to stand and raise his weapon. The hammer was blinding to Arven, but he managed to duck to the side as the hammer swung at his head.
With a fresh, sharp blade summoned in his hands he then swung it up, slicing the grip of the hammer and letting the enchanted head fall to the ground with a loud, reverberating thud.
While this was happening Serana had gotten to her feet and was doing her best to keep herself and Arven safe. She erected two parallel walls of ice on either side of Arven and Isran, blocking any more bolts from flying in their direction, hoping, knowing that Arven would be able to defeat the man. Then she had turned, focusing her attention on the way to the exit and the warriors standing between her and freedom from this damned fort.
As Isran was disarmed, Arven felt good. He felt powerful. The leader of the resistance against the vampires picked a fight with him, and that man was losing. As it should be. Arrogance and pride swelled up in Arven's chest whether he wanted it to or not. With every passing second more and more blood was staining the floor, and that roused the side of him which he hated the most.
Advancing on Isran, Arven stepped over the leg of a Dawnguard member. The severed limb had contributed even more to the gore that filled the hall, and the scent, the taste of it now danced along Arven's senses. He felt more aware, more in the moment than he ever had before. And the thing he was so incredibly focused on right now was putting Isran down.
The Dawnguard warrior wasn't going to give up simply because he was disarmed, however. Some time ago, Isran had taught Arven how to use restoration magic effectively. He was about to give Arven another lesson.
As his eyes flashed brightly, Isran let out a challenging yell as restorative energies burst from his body. An aura of magic enveloped him, cascading torrents of restoration magic flowing around him in a sphere which pierced the blizzard and made Arven's skin burn. Arven recoiled back, raising his arms to try and block out the light.
Isran just advanced on Arven, further disorienting him with that magic. He lashed out with a fist, punching Arven in the gut. The punch itself didn't do much damage, but being this close allowed the magic to burn at Arven's body. It felt like he was caught in flames, and he screamed.
Serana turned around at the sound, panicking as she heard that primal cry of pain. But she herself was nearly blinded by the light coming from Isran. That was a spell specifically designed to fight the undead. And along with the enchantments inside the fort, it was nigh unbearable.
It was a miracle that she was able to dodge the next attack in such a state. Charging from the blizzard, Gunmar had an axe held in both hands as he swung it towards Serana's torso. She dodged backwards, just missing the metal by an inch before she retaliated with a blast of lightning. Gunmar was far more skilled than the average Dawnguard warrior though and knew how most vampires preferred to fight. He rolled to the side, getting back to his feet without breaking a sweat.
"Sorry about this lass. For what it's worth, as far as vampires go you weren't a bad one. But you're still a vampire all the same," he said. Then, he charged once more, forcing Serana on the defensive.
At the same time Isran advanced on Arven. Seeing Arven scurry back, much in the same fashion as countless other vampires had done so before him, Isran felt vindicated in his choice. "I warned you, boy. And you didn't listen," he said, crouching down to pick up a discarded sword.
"I'm sorry for what I have to do. If there's even a slither of your human-self left in this disgusting beast before me, rest easy knowing we'll stop Harkon without you," Isran called out as he raised his sword high in the air.
Arven could barely see the attack coming, but he felt it coming. He'd been in enough fights to have a sense for these things. Even despite the chaos around him. His senses were sharp, too sharp, and it was making it harder and harder to focus.
The blood pumping in the veins of every man and woman around him. The excitement and panic in his body, the pain from the restoration magic burning him. The arrogance swelling inside of him, his vampiric instincts telling him to hurry up and slaughter every last human in the room. But those weren't the only instincts trying to flare up.
There were two voices inside of him. Each telling him not to lose. The first, the one that was trying desperately to control him, came from the curse he carried. His vampiric side telling him that everyone attacking him now was beneath him. That they were mere cattle, sheep. Weaklings that deserved death, who served no greater purpose in life than to be his next meal.
But no, he wouldn't accept that. He couldn't, he'd given into those urges once and he'd never forgive himself.
The second voice had been forcefully quietened, but it still lingered there. It told him not to lose, to ignore the pain and fight. Not because the people attacking him were weak. No, this voice recognised their strength. But it told Arven to be better. Be stronger. It told him to take pride in who he was, what he was.
He had a choice between accepting either one of those voices. If he didn't, he'd lose. And if he lost, he'd die, and there'd be nothing to stop Isran from advancing on Serana next.
As Isran swung his blade down Arven moved in closer to the man, reaching up to catch the pommel of the blade with one hand. The restoration magic still burnt at him, but Arven stared Isran directly in the eye. The sanguine colour in his eyes seemed to weaken almost, and his fangs became less pronounced. But there was a fire deep in his eyes that was unmistakable.
"Faas Ru Maar!"
Arven's shout reverberated throughout the room. The sheer energy behind it shattered the walls of ice surrounding him and dispersed the blizzard to a minor extent, increasing visibility just enough so that the Dawnguard members could see each other as they all had looks of pure terror stricken across their face.
Gunmar, who was preparing to attack Serana once more, felt his knees shaking and his arms barely able to grip his weapon as he was struck with the urge to get as far away as possible from the source of that shout.
The only person who wasn't effected was Serana. Either from pure strength to overcome it, or an unconscious will from Arven for the shout to simply pass over her.
Even Isran's expression dropped, the strength in his arms weakening while the spell he was concentrating on lost some of its lustre. It was enough so that Arven could grab hold of the man's armour, gripping a leather strap that ran across Isran's chest before Arven tossed him against the far wall with a near effortless shove.
Despite the damage that Arven had sustained from the restoration spell, he was healing so fast that the burn marks on his skin were retreating at a rate that was almost visible to the naked eye. As the voices of the souls within him raged, coming to the surface, it even felt like the effects of the fort seemed to be less debilitating.
"Dovahkiin!"
"Faasnu!"
"Kendov!"
He heard their voices in the dragon's tongue. There were some words he knew, and others which he didn't but he could feel the meaning hidden behind them. But that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered is that he needed to defeat Isran.
Not as a vampire. But as the warrior he was.
Approaching the leader of the Dawnguard, Arven crouched on his way to pick up a shield that had fallen. He summoned a blade at the same time, advancing on Isran just as the other man stood to his feet and charged with a blade held in both hands. More restorative magics burst from Isran now, just as bright as before.
The rest of the room was too terrified to do anything but watch the ensuing fight, as short as it was. Serana moved to interject, but after a second it was clear that she wasn't needed.
Isran brought his blade down towards Arven who effortlessly diverted the blow with his shield. The dragonborn then raised a leg, kicking Isran who stumbled back a few steps. Quickly regaining his feet the Dawnguard warrior then swung his blade several times in quick succession, showing speed that only the most trained, skilled men could muster.
Arven used his blade and shield to stop each attack, either deflecting them or parrying them, sending jarring shocks up Isran's arms. In response Isran yelled out, unwilling, unable to submit or forfeit to Arven.
"I will not lose to you, beast!" He shouted as he gave one final charge towards Arven.
As he did Arven dismissed his blade. Raising his shield, he swung it backhanded against Isran like a weapon. The sheer force and strength behind the blow knocked Isran back against the same wall that Arven threw him towards only a minute earlier.
The shock from hitting stone was almost enough to concuss Isran, who slumped to the floor in a daze. But he was unable to rest, as a moment later Arven was standing above him. The dragonborn reached down, grabbing his collar with his shielded arm before raising Isran up to eye level.
"You really are a monster," Isran spat, blood dripping from his mouth.
The blood would've seemed so enticing, but Arven was doing everything he could to supress it. He let the dragon souls within have near free reign in his body. The revelled in the feeling, and he felt their influence throughout every part of their being. They were ecstatic from the fight, from winning. But more importantly, they respected Arven.
Unlike the curse he had, the vampiric blood that tried to control him and drive him to be nothing more than a blood-crazed beast, Arven's draconic blood existed to serve him. Not the other way around. As much as he hated the feeling, as much as he hated having those souls inside of him, he realised that when given a choice between two evils, this was one that he could live with.
"I'm no monster," Arven said back, holding Isran in place. "And even if I am, I'm showing more self-restraint than anyone else here. What does that make you, Isran?"
Arven didn't receive an answer. He realised that he didn't particularly want to, either. Still holding the man against the wall, Arven used his free hand to dig around in his pocket, finding the note. After glancing over it for a second to ensure it actually contained useful information, he let Isran drop to the floor before turning around.
He was surprised to see Serana standing right behind him. She'd moved closer as he fought Isran, ready to interject if the bloodlust overcame him and he went to do something he'd regret. But thankfully, that wasn't needed.
For Serana, the urge to ensure that Arven was okay was overwhelming, but this wasn't the time nor the place. Dawnguard warriors were still standing around them. They were terrified, unsure, but still a threat.
"Arven, let's go. We need to get as far away from here as we can," Serana said to him in a hushed tone before taking him by the arm. She kept her eyes on the warriors surrounding them. They all still looked terrified, but she didn't truly understand why and was worried that the effect could end at any second.
"There's still more out there. They barricaded the door, but when we open it we might have to fight our way out," she said, and she was ready for a fight. Electricity crackled around the fingers of an outstretched hand.
"It's fine, they won't fight us," Arven said.
"How can you be sure?" Serana asked, but in response Arven raised a hand in front of her, looking at her with a reassuring smile while signalling her to stay back. Turning to face the double doors, barricaded quickly with a heavy wooden reinforcement horizontally across the centre, Arven inhaled deeply.
Planting his feet, he shouted.
"Fus Roh Dah!"
The wooden doors splintered, giving way as the force behind the shout shattered them. They swung open as chunks of them broke away, the hinges being stretched and stressed to their limits before simply snapping. Serana was right, soldiers had gathered on the other side of the door ready to fight if needed, but as soon as they saw the sheer destructive force of the shout they hesitated.
The man walking out of the fort was a terrifying sight. Arven, emerging from a room full of injured, bloodied fighters, was standing in the night air. With blood splattered across his attire, red eyes piercing through the dim light and an overwhelming presence that was alien to any man or woman who was fortunate enough to have never witnessed a dragon, it was enough to kill the will to fight of anyone still standing.
Stepping out into the cool night air, Arven uttered a simple command. "Move."
The soldiers did. So Arven and Serana moved through them, then as soon as they had moved past the force they broke out into a run, moving to get as far away from the fort as quickly as they possibly could.
Arven didn't keep track of how long they ran for. Eventually they reached the end of the valley and there was time to take a breath, with Serana pulling up beside him less than a second later. He immediately turned to her, gently grabbing her shoulders while he looked her over.
"Are you okay?" he asked. He hadn't seen the attack that had struck her earlier, but he'd heard it. And it was obvious just how dangerous Isran's weapon was against vampires.
Serana nodded to him, catching her breath. "I'm okay, but what about you?" Despite her words it was clear she was injured. Her figure was hunched ever so slightly, and any time she tried to straighten up she winced in pain.
Arven ignored her question, still looking her over. He was still on edge, and it was obvious through the way he stood. How every muscle in his body was still tensed, wound up like a spring ready to snap.
Arven ignored her. Stepping up to her he held out a hand, that familiar, yet slightly different glow now surrounding a single hand. "Where did you get hit?" He asked.
"I'm fine, Arven. I'm more worried about you," she said. She reached out to grab his other hand. Holding it she could see the 'burn' marks. They were healing, but they looked incredibly painful. Even his face had been damaged. He seemed like he'd just walked through a burning building, just without any ash on his body.
"Don't lie to me," he said. "I heard it when Isran struck you. Show me where."
Serana looked up at him. She resisted for a moment before finally relenting. She pointed to a spot several inches below her sternum and within a second Arven had gently placed his hand right where she was struck. A second later and she felt the magicka surging into her body as he healed her. Her eyes widened as she felt the effect of it almost instantly. The cracked bones and bruised muscles were being stitched and mended back together so quickly that she could feel them moving.
It was a little bit gross, in a way. But that was outweighed by how much better she felt as soon as Arven was done. Standing up straight she raised her arms, stretching out a little bit.
"Wow. That's… I can see why you studied this so hard," Serana remarked.
"Better?" Arven asked.
"Much. Thank you, Arven," she said as she looked to him with a sweet smile.
With the reassurance that Serana was okay, Arven let out a breath of air he had been holding in. He took half a step back and the restoration magic he had pooled up in the palm of his hand started to spread throughout the rest of his figure. He used the last of the strength he had, with the souls still present in his body, revelling in their victory. The way their emotions cascaded within him made him feel sick, but there wasn't much other choice.
After he'd let the restoration magic work for a few more moments, with Serana looking on with a mix of worry and awe, Arven then finally let the tension leave his body.
He pushed the souls back down, corralling them away. They went willingly, unlike last time. They seemed rather content but there was almost a hidden agreement sitting there, saying that they'd be back before long. As soon as they were 'locked away', Arven stumbled back a few steps and collapsed against a tree.
"Arven!" Serana called out, moving quick enough so that she had a hand between his head and the tree before he collapsed, guiding him to the ground. Arven's weakness caught up to him, and more than anything, the hunger. He could fight the vampirism in his blood for some time, but there was no denying what he had become at a physical level. After exerting himself like that, he needed to feed.
"Blood, Serana. Please," he said.
She immediately went to the belt he had with the vials of blood around his waist. One of them had been shattered during the fight, causing her to curse, but there was still a few more left. Pulling one out she popped the cork, lifting it to Arven's lips. He opened his mouth and she poured the blood for him, draining two thirds of it in one go.
Arven felt the strength starting to come back to him instantly, and by the time he'd drunk half of the vial he was sitting up straight, a hand on Serana's wrist as if trying to keep the blood flowing. It was a subconscious motion, and a gentle tug from Serana was enough to remind him to let go. When he did, Serana drunk the rest of the blood immediately. She needed it almost as badly as he did, since fighting within the fort was far, far more draining than a regular fight.
"Sorry," she said. "I know it's yours, but all of that blood splattered around the fort, I just-"
"It's fine," Arven said, "It's for you just as much as it's for me. You don't need to ask."
Serana relaxed next to him, the two with their backs up against a tree as Serana's head came to rest on his shoulder.
"I think Lydia would disagree with you on that one," she retorted. Arven let out a small snort of amusement at that, but it was forced. That much was obvious by the way his hands were balled up into fists, almost shaking with anger. Serana noticed that, looking up at Arven again to see the pained expression on his face.
"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked, placing a hand on his chest.
Arven didn't respond for a moment. He cursed under his breath, hitting his head against the bark behind him softly before he released some of the tension in his fists. He then turned to her, his eyes glassy.
"What was that, Serana?" He asked. "What the fuck was that?"
Serana didn't have an answer for him. At least, not one that'd offer a satisfying explanation to what just happened. She just moved closer to him, grabbing his hand with hers while her other hand still rested on his chest, trying to offer a comforting presence.
"Why did they do that? There was no…" Arven trailed off, looking up to the sky. He didn't have the words to express his frustration, or his anger. All he could to was scream, but he didn't even have the energy for that anymore. He wanted to. He wanted to let out the frustration and the anger he felt. Fighting might be a release for some, but that entire ordeal was nothing but a source of anxiety and pain for him.
"I didn't want to do that, Serana. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do," he whispered to her.
Serana placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her. "I know Arven. You didn't have a choice," she said. Her hand moved to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Don't you dare blame yourself for that, okay?"
"I just… I don't understand why. It didn't make any sense," he said.
"They couldn't see past their hatred. All they could see was two vampires, nothing else," she said.
Arven thought back to the conversation. It was always dangerous, unsure. But there was one moment where it was decided, where he'd lost the trust of everyone in that room, and remembering that hurt. He closed his eyes tightly, cursing himself.
"That poor girl," he breathed. "If I'd just had more control, if I hadn't done those things in the cave-" he said before being cut off. Serana held his head in both hands, forcing him to look at her.
"Don't you dare," she said. "Don't you dare blame this on what you did back then," Serana said. "I'm going to say this as many times as I have to, but you are not to blame for what happened in that cave. If it was anyone else, they would've killed that girl. Anyone else would've lost control and done that, but you didn't."
Arven believed what she said, deep down. But that didn't stop the thoughts he was having. He didn't verbalise it, but a part of him couldn't help but think that maybe he should've killed the girl. If he did, she wouldn't be alive, and she wouldn't have told the Dawnguard. Then, maybe, he wouldn't have needed to hurt all those people.
Serana could gather what he was thinking from his expression. Knowing how much pain he was in internally made her wish for a way to help, although she knew that all she could do was try and comfort him.
"Arven, as hard as it is, you can't think on the past. You can't wonder about 'what ifs' and how things would've played out if you'd done things differently." As she spoke she leaned in, resting her forehead against his own. Their noses almost brushed together, and she could feel his breath tickling her lips. He didn't pull away, and she just hoped that her presence like this brought him some level of comfort.
"You can't control the actions of other people. Nothing that happened tonight came from a fault of your own," she continued. "All you can do is try and do what you think is best, no matter what situation you find yourself in. Sometimes that won't be enough to avoid pain. Sometimes things like this will happen. But that's not a reflection on you, okay? It's just a reflection of this world we live in. A world that is so, so incredibly lucky to have you in it, and I'm going to hammer that into your head for as long as it takes."
Eventually, after a long moment of silence, Arven pulled away slightly and looked at Serana.
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" He asked, his lips pulled into a half-crooked smile, his cheeks slightly damp.
Serana smiled back at him. She leaned in, planting a kiss on his forehead before pulling back. "You stole the words right from my mouth, Arven," she said.
Hello again! It's been a while since I've updated, but I'm back. Sorry for the long break (I feel like I say that a lot), I haven't had as much time to write recently as I would've liked. But I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter. Thank you to everyone for reading it, especially those who reached out and left messages and reviews for me to read. I take the time to read every single one, and they mean a whole lot to me.