I should not have come here.

"I'll never tell you anything. My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me." Kneeling on the ground, the vigilant looked at the two vampires towering over him. Despite his position, with his face bloodied and armour in tatters, he remained as proud as ever. That look of defiance was the one thing the beasts seemed unable to harm. Perhaps that was why the two of them scoffed down at the man, frustration visible on their faces.

Unknown to the vampires and the man on his knees there was another person witnessing their 'confrontation'. Up on a ledge some distance away, a man clad in steel armour with a sword on his hip and shield buckled to his forearm was watching with his breath held. That man, an Imperial warrior sent by the Dawnguard named Arven had every muscle in his body tensed up, ready to move. He deliberated rushing down, fighting the vampires to save the man but he couldn't just yet. Fighting two vampires head on like this was basically suicide.

"I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here," said one of the vampires, a Nord. "So go and meet your beloved Stendarr." With that snark on his face turning into an evil grin, he drew his sword and plunged it down through the collarbone of the Vigilant in a move that was so casual it made Arven's stomach flip.

Oh, I really shouldn't have come here.

Despite the voice in his head, the Imperial warrior remained crouched on the ledge above the two vampires. He seemed to have a rather unique skill of getting himself into situations like these. Situations which he didn't want a to have single part of. But that didn't seem to matter to fate. Or to whoever was pulling the strings of his life, dragging him to an isolated corner of Skyrim to investigate the actions of vampires.

Thankfully, exploring the cave he'd been tasked to investigate had been mostly straightforward to this point. He'd only come up against skeletons and vampire fledglings, ones too weak and new to the blood to be any real threat. There had been just one powerful vampire, however it was seriously injured. Sneaking up on it along with a silver crossbow bolt to the back had made the fight significantly easier.

Down below him the two vampires continued to bicker. From what the Imperial could gather one of them was called Lokil, and various other names were thrown about, yet none stuck in Arven's mind. After slaying the Vigilant the two vampires turned away from the corpse and approached the ancient ruins further into the cave – ones with architecture unlike any that Arven had seen in modern years. Studying the two, they seemed stronger than the others he'd already killed. That could be a problem.

Remaining crouched on the upper ledge, Arven pulled out the scroll he'd recovered only moments ago. The paper was worn, with small tears in various areas but thankfully the writing was still mostly legible, with the incantation to summon a storm of fire written on the parchment. He had no idea why no one else had picked it up. This sort of item was rare, and honestly in this sort of situation it seemed too convenient. He'd be a fool not to make the most of it, however. While not the most skilled in destruction magic as he favoured restoration and melee combat, even the dumbest warrior knew how much damage just one scroll could cause.

As the two vampires crossed the bridge back to the ruins Arven stood, remaining hunched over as he descended the steps towards the pair. He passed the corpse of the vigilant, ignoring it for now before he stood before the bridge. Unfurling the scroll, Arven began to chant.

Instead of the magicka coming from his body he felt it surging within the scroll. All that energy caused his fingertips to grow hot underneath his plated gauntlets. With every word he spoke his voice grew louder, eventually alerting the two vampires. But, by the time they figured out what the stranger had done, it was too late for them.

A torrent of fire surrounded the two beasts, searing flames licking at their skin as the temperature rose well into the hundreds within seconds. The entire cavern lit up in a single moment. Their screams were almost drowned out by the cascading flames as they burnt, both vampires flailing and running straight towards the person who'd caused their pain.

After he'd cast the spell Arven discarded the now useless parchment and drew his sword - a unique Daedric artefact given to him by Meridia. Dawnbreaker let off a gentle light from its blade which grew stronger as it approached the two burning undead. The first vampire barely put up a fight, obviously in too much pain to focus. At least until the moment Arven put it out of its misery, his sword severing the head clean from the body, a holy light cauterizing the wound immediately as that blade seared any undead flesh it came into contact with. The other, Lokil somehow managed to draw his own weapon before frantically lunging forward with a blood-curdling scream, even as his flesh was melting from his face.

Stepping forward with one foot Arven raised his shield, using its edge to divert the strike from the vampire off to the side before then smashing Lokil in the face. After staggering the undead Arven went to give him the same treatment as the other vampire – a head cut cleanly from the shoulders, but the vampire dodged. Scrambling back from Arven, the burning vampire then lunged forward after throwing its weapon to the side.

Lokil swiped at Arven with dirt-covered claws in a desperate attempt. He got close, close enough that Arven could feel the heat coming from the vampire's burning flesh. But in such a condition there was no coordination to the vampire's attacks, and after lunging towards the Imperial the vampire found itself missing its target completely, staggering forward before turning around to catch a glimpse of Dawnbreaker a second before the blade penetrated his skull.

After both of the fiends were slain, the warrior still stood in place for a few moments longer with his shield raised, surveying his surroundings. His heart was beating like crazy, over and over each second until finally he let out a deep breath and relaxed. The cavern was empty, as far as he could tell.

"Fucking hell, I hate vampires." Muttering to himself the man wiped the flat of the blade on his arm, removing the blood before returning it to its sheath and resting his shield across his back. With a grunt he leaned against the railing to one side of the platform he stood on, reaching towards his belt to unfasten a potion he quickly drank. It tasted foul, but he wasn't going to risk catching a disease from anything in the cavern, let alone a vampire.

After catching his breath and composing himself, Arven turned back and walked over to the corpse of the vigilant, crouching in front of him. There was a pang of guilt in his heart. If he'd acted sooner, just descended the steps and fought the two vampires a moment earlier, perhaps the man would've lived?

Don't think about that now. You've still got work to do.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the eyes of the man to close them. As he did so he couldn't help but notice two puncture marks on his neck, marks of further torture that the man had to endure. With a curse being muttered under his breath, Arven then stood and drew Dawnbreaker once more. A second later and he had plunged the blade into the heart of the dead man, an act which made his stomach feel queasy from disgust and guilt.

But, he didn't want to take the risk. Not if the man could've been infected with vampirism before he died.

Trying to clear his mind, Arven turned and approached the ancient ruins. Despite clearing out the cave he still needed to continue his search. Try and find whatever it was that had a bunch of vampires so interested. That was the main reason he was here, after all.

As he got closer the layout of the area became clear. Old, worn stone braziers were all laid out around a central pedestal. Each brazier was placed in a groove within the stone floor as well, almost as if they could be pushed around. Typical for a cavern like this as well, there were skeletons littered about the place. As he passed one sprawled out on the floor, he drew his sword and plunged the tip into the skull mid-stride. At least that didn't solicit the same feeling of guilt as before.

Approaching one of the braziers Arven gave it a solid push. But as he did so, giving it a solid shove, nothing happened. It didn't even budge.

Folding his arms over his chest, Arven clicked his tongue as he studied the object. "Okay. There's grooves in the floor, handles, but you don't move." Giving the brazier a solid kick instead, partially to see if he could make it budge and partially from frustration, he simply ended up walking away with a slight limp. After trying another brazier and getting the same result he started studying the rest of the area. The only thing that stood out was a single pedestal in the middle.

When he got closer there was a small protrusion on the top. Almost like a button.

Alright, what's the worst that could happen?

Placing a palm flat against the 'button' he pushed down. And in return, a spike drove itself up through his hand.

Immediately a loud curse from the man rang out through the cave. Arven withdrew his hand, recoiling immediately as he held the wounded hand in his other. The urge to kick the pedestal rose up within him along with the sharp pain, but in a moment of wisdom he decided not to do that.

Looking at the wound, a punctured hole straight through his palm, Arven winced as a soft yellow light radiated from his hand. The wound started to slowly close, skin regrowing from the glowing light before it eventually closed up, knitting itself together. Using magic like that left Arven feeling slightly tired, but it was worth it to remove the pain.

He'd need a new gauntlet, though. That part was annoying. However as he looked up he noticed that pressing the button actually had a result. Now, the stone grooves in the ground were emitting a somewhat beautiful, someone eerie purple glow.

The only thing he could think of to do now was to give a brazier another push. This time, it moved rather easily. And as it locked into a new position a bright purple flame erupted from it, signalling that he had done something.

It can't be that straight forward. Right?

Thankfully, it was. A few minutes later with a sore, yet healed hand and the final brazier locked into place, the entire cavern seemed to rumble. Arven drew his sword and shield from reflex just as the floor beneath him started to give way, sinking down. He managed to jump back quickly enough to watch as the centre pedestal seemed to turn into a stone pillar of sorts, the floor around it being depressed enough to grant comfortable access to the pillar.

How ominous. Well, can't go this far and back out now.

With his heart beating slightly faster, the Imperial approached the pillar with Dawnbreaker levelled horizontally, tip aimed directly forward. He didn't know what to expect, but considering that vampires were after it he knew that it'd be nothing but trouble.

Oh, how right he was.

All it needed was a light tap from his shield and the 'door' to the pillar gave way. Arven stood ready with his entire body tensed, shield up as he expected almost anything. Magic, a trap, a freakishly strong draugr. He really, really hoped it wasn't another draugr.

Instead, he got a woman.

A woman that fell directly onto him. As she stumbled Arven barely had time to drop his sword, opening his arms to catch her, stopping her from sprawling out across the floor.

"Woah, hey! Are you alright?" Arven asked, ending up with the woman in his arms. He supported her, giving her a light jostle to try and get some life back into her as she seemed to be sleeping.

A second later and she stirred, before looking up to him with bright yellow eyes, her wine-red hair obscuring half of her face.

"Unh… where is…" the woman started, before she raised a hand to her head, rubbing her temples. Blinking a few times, a look of confusion crossed her face. "Who sent you here?" She asked. As she looked up at him, Arven felt his breath catch.

Gods, she's beautif- wait, fangs?!

The second he realised Arven pushed her back with his left hand, forcing the woman back against the stone pillar. She would've fallen back into her tomb of sorts but the gigantic scroll on her back blocked her from doing so. As soon as there was some distance between them Arven picked up his blade and held onto it with both hands, the sharp tip aimed directly at the vampire's face.

"Woah, that is not the way I was hoping to be woken up!" The woman said. Despite the threat, she seemed incredibly relaxed. Almost as if she was dealing with a child waving a toy in her face. "Who are you?"

In response Arven tightened his grip on his sword before speaking. "Who were you expecting?"

"I was expecting someone… like me, at least." As she spoke, the woman raised a single finger up to the blade. She went to push it down, but recoiled once the blade singed her skin with a curse coming from her lips.

"Can you put that thing down? I'm not sure if you realise but waking up with a sword in your face isn't the most enjoyable way to start your day," she said, still seeming completely unthreatened.

"Does that normally work?" Arven asked. "Surely that doesn't normally work. Every vampire I've ever met has tried to eat or kill me. Or both," Arven replied. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm not exactly trusting of you." After speaking he took half a step forward, inching the blade closer to the woman.

But there was no panic in the woman's eyes. She just looked fed up, if anything. "Look, I'm really tired and I have no idea what's going on. Please just relax a bit?"

Well, she has a point. She'd hardly be a threat in her current state… wait, no! What am I thinking?

Shaking his head, Arven replied. "Nope, no deal."

That seemed to annoy the woman as she frowned, folding her arms across her chest.

"Charmer, aren't you? Who even sent you?" she asked.

"The Dawnguard. No one you'd want to know, they'd want me to kill you on the spot."

"Not fond of vampires, are they?"

"Sure, you could say that." As he continued to look the woman in the eyes, Arven couldn't shake an incredibly strong feeling of unease, his stomach feeling like a pit.

"Well look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire. But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is," she said. As she spoke the vampire had her arms folded, idly drumming her fingers on her upper arm.

"What makes you so special, anyway?" Arven asked. In response the woman turned to the side, pointing to the scroll on her back.

"How many other vampires have you seen with an Elder Scroll on their back?" The tone she used was one of the most condescending Arven had ever heard, but once he realised what she was carrying he finally lowered his weapon.

"Wait, what? Where'd you get that?" Arven asked, taking half a step back. He knew about Elder Scrolls, but he didn't trust them. He'd heard about the things they could do. He'd even seen some of it firsthand, although that wasn't a pleasant memory. None of it really made any sense to him.

The woman shuffled on the spot, seeming somewhat awkward. "It's… complicated. I can't really talk about it. I'm sorry."

Sorry? Why is she apologising all of a sudden?

Finally, Arven decided to ask the most important question.

"Why were you locked away like this?" A long period of silence fell over the pair, the woman looking to the ground before replying.

"That's… complicated. And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. Brandishing your sword at me like this doesn't really inspire friendship," the woman said, pointing at the blade Arven still held. "But, if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home." After speaking she looked up, locking eyes with the Dawnguard soldier.

Something is… different, about this one. At least she hasn't tried to bite me yet.

"You think I'm going to agree to that?" Arven asked, a brow raised underneath his helmet.

"We can fight if you want," the woman replied. "I could use a good warm up after sleeping for so long."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Arven retorted.

"Sure. So, take me home," the vampire replied. As if there was only two possible outcomes to their meeting. Perhaps there was.

"…Fine. Just don't try anything reckless," Arven said, a long sigh escaping from his lips. He was still holding his sword at his side, although he kept the tip pointed to the ground.

"I was going to say the same thing to you," the woman replied. She brushed her hair out of her face, those yellow eyes piercingly bright in the dim light of the cave. "My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do. By the way… my name is Serana. Good to meet you." After speaking Serana held out her hand, her other hand resting on her hip as she waited for a reply.

Okay, what kind of vampire wants to shake my hand? This is all sorts of… wrong.

Despite his thoughts Arven extended his hand, clasping Serana's in a firm handshake.

"Arven," he said, leaving it at that.

After a slightly awkward silence between them the two broke eye contact. Arven turned away, looking deeper into the cave while Serana took a few steps, raising her arms high above her head as she stretched. In doing so, she caught Arven's eye.

Gods, she's gorgeous. Shame about the whole bloodsucking bitch thing.

"So," Arven said, turning his gaze from her again. "Any idea how to get out of here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replied. "This place looks pretty different from when I was locked away. Which way did you come in?"

Arven pointed back over his shoulder. "That way, through some old caves."

"Well, why don't we head back out there?"

"Nah. These caves always loop around at the end, and I get the feeling we're near the end of it," Arven said. He conveniently left out the part about the vampire corpses he'd left on his way. Showing them to another vampire didn't seem like the smartest move.

Raising his arm, Arven pointed in the opposite direction – a bridge connected to the other side of the platform they were on. "That way. Should lead us out."

"Uh, I'm not so sure about that," Serana said. "What if we hit a dead end?"

"Never happens. They always loop around."

"That's ridiculous."

Arven just shrugged in response, then he started walking off in the direction he chose. Serana just shook her head.

"You better be right about this," she said.

"Don't worry," Arven said. "Out of curiosity though, how long were you in there? Surely caves can't change that much."

"Good question," she responded. "Hard to say. I… I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time." She paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought for a few seconds that seemed to drag on forever. "Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Arven let out a brief laugh. "That was actually a matter for debate, up until very recently," he said.

"Oh, wonderful. A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who were the contenders?" As they walked Serana stayed a few paces behind, her stride incredibly relaxed with a long blade strapped to her waist. Her demeanour was the polar opposite of the Imperial in front of her, sword and shield always raised and ready.

"The Empire supports Elisif, but there are many in Skyrim who were loyal to Ulfric. At least until he lost the war," Arven said.

"Empire? What… what Empire?" Serana said, making Arven stop in his tracks. He turned to face her, peering through his helmet.

"The… Empire. From Cyrodiil," he said slowly, enunciating every word.

Serana's eyes widened. "Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?" For the first time since they'd met, Serana looked visibly worried. "I must have been gone longer than I thought…" Shaking her head, she started walking again – overtaking Arven as she peered through the darkness in search of an exit. "Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

The Empire has been around for… hundreds of years by now. How old is she? Arven shook his head, quickly catching up with her.

"Hey," he said, trying to catch her eye. "The Empire has been around for a long time."

Serana didn't respond, only quickening her pace.

"Are you… okay?"

"What, is the little vampire hunter worried about me? That's sweet," she said. Her voice seemed even more sarcastic than usual.

"What can I say. Any vampire is dangerous in the best of moods, let alone when they're angry or upset," Arven said."

"How touching."

Just as Arven was about to respond the sound of stone cracking echoed around the cavern. He looked around in the dim light, raising his shield just in time as a gargoyle jumped from the shadows and crashed into his shield head-on. He let out a yell in defiance as he held his shield out in front of him, his sword-hand pushing to try and fend off the gargoyle as it made him slide back through the dirt.

As the weight of the beast threatened to push him down, claws swiping past the shield to try and reach him he heard the sound of a second gargoyle coming to life.

Shit. She's probably far too tired to defend herself, and she has answers.

With a loud cry of defiance Arven dug his heels into the ground and pushed, slamming his shield into the face of the beast. Sending the gargoyle reeling he then swung with his sword, slicing the claw that came swiping at him before burying his sword into the chest of the creature.

With a kick to separate his blade from the gargoyle's corpse he swung around, looking for Serana or the other creature so he could step in before anything happened. Instead of finding the vampire fighting off the attacker, he found her standing idly by with one hand on her hip, sparks dancing between the fingers on her other hand.

Wait, what?

Looking further away he saw the other gargoyle. It was entirely lifeless, scorch marks on its chest that arced along its entire body. Not only that but its arm had been cleanly blown off, along with a chunk of its torso.

"Are you alright? You seemed to struggle a bit there," Serana said with an infuriatingly cocky expression.

"Yeah, fine. You… What?" Lost for words he simply pointed at Serana, then at the gargoyle she'd dispatched. He was thankful for his helmet as he knew his expression would look utterly ridiculous.

In response Serana just flexed her fingers, sparks of electricity dancing from her fingertips before dissipating into the air.

"Please, it's one gargoyle. Can we keep moving, now?" she said.

"…Sure," Arven replied. He cursed his stupidity. Any vampire locked away with an Elder Scroll was likely important, and any vampire who was important was generally old.

With age, came power.

As Serana walked off Arven caught himself staring for a moment, and she noticed.

"Yes?" She said.

"Just how old are you, exactly?" He asked.

Her expression deadpanned. "Don't you know not to ask a woman that? These… Dawnguard, was it? They don't really teach you how to speak properly, do they?"

Arven shrugged. "I can shout pretty well."

"What a useful skill. Thanks."

If only you knew.

The rest of the journey through the cave was mostly uneventful. A few more gargoyles were placed along old ruins, similar to the one's he came across earlier. Thankfully they were in plain enough view that Arven could put them to rest the moment they broke free.

He didn't take any chances. He didn't want to be ambushed, sure, but he also didn't want to seem incompetent in front of a vampire. Fighting a powerful vampire was a last resort, and the best way to not fight them was to make them worried for their own safety.

While he had hoped for no other threats to present themselves, such a thing was wishing for the impossible when crawling around dungeons in Skyrim. Besides the gargoyles, when the pair emerged into a wide open area with steps leading down to a central platform, they found themselves not only surrounded by skeletons, but draugr.

The second he saw the undead Nordic warriors, Arven darted to the closest one. A few skeletons on the way swung at him but they could be ignored for now. He wanted to kill every draugr before they could open their mouths. The first one fell without issue, Dawnbreaker sliding into it's chest before it could even react.

A moment later and two more were advancing, old axes raised high. Each one brought them down almost at the same time just as Arven drew his sword from the chest of the one he'd just slain. Jumping back he barely managed to avoid each axe, with one draugr stepping off balance while the other shifted its weight and swung again, the blade of the axe coming for Arven's side.

Given the close proximity and awkward 'stage' he was fighting on, the warrior wasn't left with much choice except to catch the attack on his shield, the force jarring his arm through the impact. He caught it with ease though, and that allowed him to stab the tip of his blade into the draugr's head. Kicking the undead away, he then parried a blow from the remaining undead and dispatched it in a similar manner.

All the while Serana stood above, watching with an amused look on her lips. It was almost as if she was watching a show, with the man providing some level of entertainment for her, all as she idly picked off any skeletons that came close with a blast of lightning or a well placed lance of ice. In studying the human she noticed that he moved faster than she'd expect for a regular human, easily fast enough to keep up with any beast, or perhaps a vampire.

But nothing that prompted any worry from her. With the exception of his blade.

Despite his attempts though, Arven didn't slay all the draugr in time. One, standing on the other side of the platform with rusted armour and a large greatsword drawn eyed off the man slaying the undead. But instead of charging with its weapon, the monster opened its mouth just in time for Arven to notice.

Ah, shit.

The last thing Arven wanted was to be shouted at. He broke out into a full sprint, Dawnbreaker in one hand as he shoved skeletons to the side to clear a path.

"Fus…"

Just as the draugr braced itself, leaning back with its chest puffed out Arven leapt at it, blade raised high to drive it right into its stomach as the momentum behind the attack ended up with the warrior tackling the undead onto the ground. As he ended up on top of the dying monster, Arven then slammed the edge of his shield into the draugr's face, eliminating any chance at all of the shout being formed.

Deep, almost panicked breaths came from his chest as Arven stood, turning around to make sure there were no other threats. But the only remaining enemies were a few skeletons, and Serana was taking care of those. Or, toying with them, might be a more accurate description.

While he had stopped the shout from being formed, even being around draugr made Arven's skin crawl. That feeling was amplified when in the back of the cave Arven stumbled across a large, towering stone wall. It seemed rather out of place, until he realised what it was. Stepping closer, he saw the script of dragons written across it.

A bunch of vampires and draugr wasn't enough to deal with, was it?

Approaching the wall, Arven ignored the sickness in his gut as he placed a hand on the old stone. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, absorbing the knowledge of the text. It was an incredibly unpleasant feeling, and the urge to simply pass the wall by stuck in his head.

But he didn't have the luxury of doing so, unfortunately.

"What are you doing?" Serana asked when she noticed him dragging his fingers gently across the stone.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just a fan of old carvings like this," Arven replied.

"Can you read that? I don't even know what script it is," Serana asked as she studied the wall, her head titled off to one side out of curiosity.

"Not really, no."

Walking past him, Serana peered further into the cave, eyeing off a path that extended out before them. "You know, you're not a bad runner," she mentioned.

"I… thanks?" Arven said, turning to her with a confused look after he was done with the word wall.

"The way you ran towards one of those things. Looked like you were running for your life," she remarked with a smirk.

"I suppose that's something you've seen quite a bit, haven't you?" Arven retorted.

Serana's expression turned slightly, a rather unimpressed look on her face. She went to respond, but saved her energy as Arven had started walking off, not paying her any more attention. She found it strange. A mortal speaking so brazenly to her was a mixture of frustrating, and somewhat refreshing.

An hour or so after they had met the pair emerged out the back end of the cave and Serana saw the world for the first time in hundreds of years. She stepped out into the open, ignoring the snow falling down around them as she looked up to the sky. Even though it was the middle of the night, the moonlight illuminated their surroundings rather well, and Arven could get a better look at her.

It only confirmed what he already knew. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. And unfortunately, also the most dangerous.

"Ah, it's so good to breathe again!" Serana said as she took in a deep breath. "Even in this weather, it's better than the cave."

"Anything beats a tomb, right?" Arven said.

"You sure know how to brighten a conversation, don't you?"

Once again, Arven shrugged.

"Alright then. Which way is home?" Serana asked, looking around as the moon shone down brightly upon the land.

"No idea. Let's walk until we find a road and go from there. I've got a map." Arven said before he started walking in a random direction.

Serana paused for a moment, but unable to come up with a better solution she started following.

"By the way," Arven said. "Told you so."

"Pardon?"

"About the cave. It looped around in the end, got us out of there. Told you."

Serana shook her head. "You're an idiot. I hope you realise that."

Beneath his helmet, Arven couldn't help but agree, cursing himself for his stupidity. After all, what other word was there to describe a vampire hunter who was escorting a vampire home?

Yet, despite himself, he managed a brief smile.

Hello everyone! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This is something I started back in 2019 after doing another playthrough of Skyrim. Just a story following through the tale of a vampire hunter who ends up in a situation far, far over his head. This story is a Dragonborn/Serana fic, although 'Dragonborn' isn't exactly a title Arven wears with pride.

For reference, Serana's appearance is based off the Seranaholic 1.4 mod.