Several hours earlier.

"You'll need to explain this to me again, lad. What is it that you're planning on doing, exactly?" Balgruuf asked. He was sitting on a chair, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. The man was deep in thought. To his side was the ever-present Irileth, unimpressed as ever. Perhaps even more than usual.

"I need… supervision," Arven said. "I think I know how to cure my vampirism, but it's going to be dangerous, so there's a very strong chance I might need help. A healer, in particular."

"Because you've somehow gotten the bright idea to go talking to some Daedra," Balgruuf added.

Arven nodded his head in agreement. After talking to Gelebor, he had a thought. An idea that proved hopeful in his mind, but also incredibly dangerous. He hadn't thought of it previously, yet it seemed so incredibly simple when he took a moment to think it through. Gelebor had said that the only being with the power to remove a curse placed by a Daedric Prince, was another Daedric Prince.

And Arven had the means to contact one. Rather easily in fact, he had the means to do so in his house. Not just any Daerea, either. He knew how to contact one that absolutely hated Molag Bal. Back when he had acquired the weapon he had used up until turning into a vampire, he was reluctantly working alongside Meridia. A Prince who had instructed him to cleanse her temple of an undead presence. While he hated working under any level of daedric influence, this was the one time he could stomach it. And it return, he received a weapon that signified him as her champion. A blade stronger than any forged by mortal hands, capable of fighting even the strongest undead.

Not only would Meridia have the power, potentially, to cure him, she would revel at the chance to remove any influence Molag Bal had over Nirn. At least, that's what Arven assumed.

"It's the best chance I have of getting rid of his curse. Meridia hates Molag Bal with a passion, and she already claims me to be her champion," Arven continued. "She's the only being I can think of that has the power and the motivation to cure me."

"Now how does a Daedra claim the Dragonborn as their champion? You have the blood of Akatosh, not some foul creature," Balgruuf asked, seemingly angry and the implication.

"Daedric Princes claim all manner of things, yet that doesn't necessarily mean they own them," Serana explained. Of course, she was present at the discussion as well, standing up straight alongside Arven. "I've discussed this with Arven before. I think ultimately his soul provides him a level of protection from the Princes. Yet, that won't stop them from arrogantly claiming otherwise."

Balgruuf murmured to himself, resting his chin on intertwined fingers.

"I suppose there's no other Daedra that could do this? Meridia is your best choice?" Balgruuf asked.

"I don't know how to contact any others. And even if I could, I don't have the means to bargain with them. They'd all demand something I'd almost certainly not want to give," Arven said. "The only other Prince I could think of would be Sheogorath, but I've never spoken with him."

"Not to mention, his… unpredictability is arguably more dangerous than Meridia's hate," Serana commented.

The Jarl hummed to himself for a moment, before following with his next question.

"Why here?" He asked. It was a natural thing to be curious about, after all.

"At first, I was going to take it back to her shrine. However… that's a long trek, and being too close to the sphere is uncomfortable to say the least. Having it on my person for hours on end would likely weaken me and Serana both. I need a place that's secure, with a healer close by. Not to mention I'll likely need to rest afterwards. So, this seemed like a good location." Arven explained.

"And you believe that if you ask her to cleanse you of your vampirism, that she will do so willingly?" Balgruuf asked.

Arven nodded. "I do. I… I don't imagine she'll make it painless, but I think she'd agree."

Serana had a look of concern on her face the entire time that Arven spoke, and eventually turned to him, joining the group of those who seemed to be interrogating him about this 'plan'.

"Arven, please rethink this. I know you're eager to cure yourself. I want to see you return to your old self just as badly, but please. Daedric Princes are vile, malevolent things, and I know this better than anyone. Meridia is likely to cure you by simply killing you," she pleaded.

"For once, I agree with her," Irileth commented. "This is foolish. Attracting unwanted attention on Dragonsreach for no purpose."

Arven glared at her. "There's a purpose. An incredibly important one, at that," he argued.

"I understand your desire to be mortal, but that has no implication on the safety of Whiterun. Keeping this city secure is my top priority, and I won't risk it for your own," she replied.

"Arven, remember what I told you about Meridia?" Serana asked, stepping back into the conversation. "She's infamous among my kind. She's all too eager to cleanse people, but in doing so she turns them into puppets. Mindless husks. She'd do the same to you," Serana continued.

"She won't. She wouldn't dare. And if she does, I can fight it," Arven replied, looking to Serana, his eyes set with determination. "Didn't you say I'm the only person you know who's turned down Molag Bal before?"

A small moment of silence came across them. Serana wanted to continue arguing, but she was conflicted. Conflicted with her desire to keep Arven safe, and her wish to support him. Plus, she wanted to see him back as a mortal worse than anyone.

The silence was broken when Balgruuf let out his characteristic bark of a laugh.

"Hah! You've changed recently, my friend. Where has all this confidence come from?" He joked, the previously serious look on his face replaced with a more relaxed one.

Arven looked to him, offering half of a shrug. He knew what Balgruuf was talking about, of course, but he didn't feel like explaining the entire meeting with Durnehviir.

"I'm just eager to get this done, that's all," he explained.

"I've never met a man so eager to spit in the face of a Daedra before. One day you'll stop surprising me, Arven. One day," Balrguuf continued.

One person who was uncharacteristically absent from this meeting was Lydia. There was a reason for that, Arven knew she'd object almost as much as Serana was, and equally as much as Irileth. He felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her like this, but he promised himself that he'd make it up to her.

"My Jarl, please don't speak as if this foolishness is already decided," Irileth said, her voice almost sounding defeated.

"And why not? I don't see a reason why we shouldn't offer our help if Arven is already committed to this. Better we stand by ready to assist, than let him wander off to attempt this without anyone else to aid him," Balgruuf said.

Irileth went to open her mouth once more, but Balgruuf stood up, cutting her off before she could speak. "I am yet to repay a sliver of the debt Whiterun owes this man. Our town has been besieged by Stormcloak and dragons both, and if not for him, they would have been successful and the ground beneath our feet would be nothing but rubble," he stated, his voice firm. "If he asks, we offer our hand in aid. That's the end of it."

Irileth paused for a moment, before closing her eyes and exhaling softly. "Yes, Jarl Balgruuf. With your permission I will station guards on duty as well. I have no doubt that there will be volunteers wishing to help," she offered.

"Do it," Balgruuf said before turning back to Arven. "So, when did you want to do this exactly?"

"As soon as possible. I don't want to delay this any longer," Arven replied.

"Alright then. We'll send for a healer now. When they arrive, alongside the guards, we'll get this out of the way," the Jarl said. "Someone go and grab Lydia as well. I understand why you didn't want her here for the discussion, but I'm not going to leave the poor lass out of this."

Arven exhaled, already dreading the confrontation with her. "You're probably right. It'd be cruel not to let her know," he said.

"I'm not doing this out of kindness, lad. I'm doing this as if I don't, the woman would have my head!" The Jarl commented, his lips failing to hide a smirk that seemed far too childish for a man of his position.

Arven looked to the Jarl, smirking. "It almost sounds like you're afraid of her. Perhaps even more than you are of Irileth," he jested.

"Of course I am. Why do you think I entrusted her to you all that time ago?" The Jarl replied, before letting out a short laugh. Turning away, the Jarl then flagged down a nearby guard, walking over to order a runner for a healer. Irileth had already done so, but the guard wasn't about to tell the Jarl that.

Arven shook his head with amusement. He was growing anxious now that the plan had been decided, yet taking to Balgruuf always managed to calm him down, somewhat. That would be short lived though, as he was suddenly dragged away.

Serana had approached him, grabbing hold of his wrist before pulling him off into a nearby room. She shut the door behind them, using slightly more force than she intended before pointing to a chair.

"Sit," she said. Arven did so immediately, unsure of what was going on, but the tone of her voice was more than enough to have him obediently follow. Serana found another chair, pulling it up right in front of Arven's.

She sat down, leaning forward and staring him directly in the eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do it this way, Arven?" Serana asked. As she looked into his eyes, a genuine hint of concern was present on her face, something which Arven saw immediately.

He reached out, grabbing her hands and placing them in his own. He gave them a soft squeeze, looking at her with a soft smile.

"I am, Serana. I need to do this, and this is the only way I can think of," he said.

"The only way you can think of right now. We've got all the time in the world, Arven. We don't have to rush this," she said.

"We do. I do, Serana. I… This isn't right for me. I'll always thank you for saving me, and I don't regret it for a second, but I'm not meant to live my life like this," he stated, still holding onto her hands. "Plus, I can't keep you waiting forever."

He went to continue, but Serana immediately cut him off. "I will wait for you for as long as it takes, Arven. I'll wait for a millennia if I need to. I just want to know that you'll be safe," she reaffirmed.

Arven's smile grew slightly, yet it was a sombre smile. One he gave her to try and reassure her, yet he was more than slightly nervous himself.

"There isn't a safe way, Serana. You know that as well as I do. No regular cure will work, and any other Prince is just as likely to try and trick me, or demand something outrageous. Meridia is the only one who stands to gain something from curing me, the only one I can barter with," Arven explained.

Serana looked down to the floor, her wine-red hair forming a curtain that Arven couldn't peer through. She squeezed his hands in return.

"I can't lose you again Arven," she whispered. "It broke me last time. If she kills you, or turns you into a mindless husk I don't…. I don't know what I'll do," Serana continued, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

"You aren't going to lose me, Serana. I have absolutely no intention of letting a Daedric Prince kill me, not when I have so much to live for," he said, looking directly at her. "Plus, I don't think she has the strength to kill me."

Serana looked up, scoffing. Her eyes were glassy as she looked back at Arven. "Doesn't have the strength? She's a Daedric Prince, of course she does!"

"Not here. Not this far away from her shrine. The Princes have limited influence on this world. If she didn't even have the strength to cleanse her own shrine of the undead, how could she kill me? If she's not playing along then I'll just crush the beacon with my own hands, and she won't be able to harm me," Arven said, doing his best to reassure Serana.

She shook her head slightly, a gentle smile forcing itself across her lips. "You really have gotten more confident," she said.

Arven raised a brow. "You think so?"

"Definitely. I think Durnehviir rubbed off on you. But, I think it actually suits you," she replied.

Arven shifted forward ever so slightly on his chair, getting closer to Serana with her hands still in his own.

"Serana, I promise you. I'm not going to let her kill me," he said, raising one hand to gently cup her cheek. "I still remember my promise, after I turned. I told you I'd give you my answer when I was mortal again. There is nothing in the world, on Nirn or otherwise, that can stop me from doing that. And I think I've made you wait long enough as it is."

Leaning in closer, Arven brushed Serana's hair aside and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, with Serana leaning in ever so slightly as she realised what he was doing. She exhaled, not out of a need for oxygen, but to try and release some pent-up stress. The anxiety boiling away in her gut from what was coming. But she trusted him, more than anything. And if he was this confident, maybe it would work after all?

The two stood, Arven grabbing Serana's hands again to pull her up.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Arven prompted, his head motioning to the door that lead back to the main room. Serana didn't respond, but she nodded, following behind him. Arven felt a slight level of relief after reassuring Serana, even if he was still nervous himself.

Yet that relief was banished as soon as he opened the door.

"Arven!" A loud shout echoed through the hall, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone inside. The source of the shout was a voice that Arven was very familiar with, but it felt wrong. It took him a second to figure out why. As he looked about the room for the source of the voice, he could've sworn that he saw the Jarl ducking away hurriedly.

Lydia stormed up the stairs inside the hall, marching directly towards Arven before ending up right in his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded, her face almost furious.

Arven stood there, blinking several times out of shock. "Since when do you call me… never mind, didn't someone explain this to you?" Arven asked.

"They did. That's exactly why I want to hear this stupidity directly from you, because I don't think even you are this much of a fool," she retorted. Lydia then turned to Serana. "Surely you've told him this is a bad idea, my lady?"

Serana nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "I have, trust me. And so has just about everyone else," she said.

Lydia looked back to Arven. He had never seen her this angry before, not even close. "You almost died, Arven – my thane. Why are you putting yourself at risk like this?" She questioned, the anger on her face mixed in with visible confusion.

Arven paused for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Look in my eyes, Lydia. You know exactly why. Even though you didn't voice your concerns after I turned, I could tell. You know that this isn't who I am. Just as well as I do," he said.

"That doesn't mean that you have to intentionally go and seek out the Daedra. How can you even fight something like that?" She asked.

"It does. It's the only way. And it's not the first time I've bargained with Daedra, either," Arven said. He reached out, placing a hand on Lydia's armoured shoulder. "I'll be fine. Trust me."

Lydia looked at him. She wanted to refute him and continue to berate him for being a bloody fool, but seeing the colour of his eyes stopped her. She knew how painful it was for Arven to live like this, and couldn't find it in herself to continue to argue with him.

"I knew I should've smashed that damn orb when you brought it back," she whispered under her breath. "Okay. I understand, my thane."

Standing up straight she set her jaw while reaching into a satchel strapped to her waist. She brought out another vial of her blood, offering it to Arven.

"Here. I wasn't sure if you had enough, and you'll need your strength," she offered.

Arven paused, finding that his hand had instinctively reached out to grab it before he consciously stopped himself. He was thirsty, that much was certain. And he'd feel much stronger if he drank the blood.

"Arven, wait," Serana said. "It might not be the best idea. If Meridia is going to purge you of vampirism, being hungry might reduce the strain on your body. If you're feeling strong and you're fully sated on blood, the vampirism inside of you will be stronger."

Arven turned to her. "Seriously? So I should be weaker when I do this?"

Serana offered him a quick shrug. "Honestly? I'm not sure, this is all new to me. But if I had to guess… I'd suggest not drinking any. Focus on the strength you get from your soul, not the vampirism."

Lydia looked down to the vial in her hand, momentarily conflicted. Arven took a step closer, placing his hand over the vial and gently pushing it back towards the woman.

"Thank you Lydia, sincerely. But that's another reason why I need to do this. I can't ask you to keep harming yourself for my sake," Arven said with a gentle voice.

"I'm hardly harming myself, my thane. And it's my choice, regardless," Lydia said as she met Arven's gaze. However, Arven's eyes broke away, instead moving down to a bare section of Lydia's forearm that wasn't protected by her armour or her gauntlet. There was a visible line where she'd extracted blood from, and it was yet to fully heal.

"One scar among dozens," Lydia reaffirmed.

"Dozens too many," Arven retorted. "But again, thank you."

Just as Lydia withdrew her hand, placing the vial back in a pouch on her waist, several guards entered the hall with a priest tailing behind them. They all seemed rather groggy, yet given the current time of day that was only to be expected. As they entered, Arven met the eyes of the priestess, giving her a curt nod in recognition. It had been quite some time since he spoke with her, yet the two had formed a level of mutual respect some time ago. Both from a desire to heal the injured, along with some help Arven granted the woman in restoring a tree in the centre of Whiterun.

"Maybe I should've done this at a more reasonable hour?" Arven half joked to no one in particular.

"Please, like you could wait another second," Serana said as she stood at his side. "You're surprisingly impatient when you want something."

Arven let a soft chuckle escape his lips. But with each passing second, he was growing more and more nervous. Anxious for what was to come. It was manageable for now, but he needed to get this over and done with.

"I think it's about time I went and got the beacon, Serana," Arven muttered under his breath. It was barely audible, as if he was almost avoiding it subconsciously.

She looked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Want me to come with you?"

Arven shook his head. "No, it'd just be uncomfortable for you. The damn thing is far too bright even for mortals," he said. Turning to Serana, he offered her a quick smile. "Mind telling the Jarl that I'll be ready to go as soon as I'm back?"

She nodded to him, offering that sweet, kind, reassuring smile that somehow always managed to settle Arven's nerves. Even if it was just a little.

"Of course. I'll see you soon, then," She said.

Arven nodded, locking his eyes on hers for a moment longer before turning away and briskly setting off towards his house. When he left, Irileth had started to explain the situation to those who had gathered around them. Most were confused, but all were willing to help. When Irileth mentioned that Arven had asked for assistance each one staunchly agreed to remain, despite the inherent risk involved. Balgruuf had been ready to step in and say a word or two if needed, but it seems that Arven wasn't just a thane in title alone; he had truly earnt that position.

By the time Arven returned, everyone was in position. He carried the beacon in a small bag, wrapped over and over again in thick cloth. Even then, he had to squint when looking in its general direction. As he climbed the stairs up towards the balcony of Dragonsreach, he was met by Balgruuf who clapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you ready for this, lad? No one would blame you if you were to back out, you know," Balgruuf said.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Not a chance that I'm going to delay this any longer now," Arven said, looking back at the Jarl with his commitment to this plan written plainly across his face.

The Jarl nodded briefly, before giving Arven a single clap on the back as they both continued walking up the stairs. Arven went on alone through the two main doors leading out to the balcony. The small party of guards remained outside, each standing up a little bit straighter as Arven walked past. The only person that stood outside on the balcony waiting for him was Serana.

Arven gently shook his head as he approached her. They were standing alone on the balcony, the night sky spread out before them with the moon softly illuminating the pair. To their sides, the equipment used to capture dragons still stood. It had been cleaned recently, surprisingly. Perhaps after some recent events, the guards on station felt as if it couldn't hurt to have the equipment remain in good condition.

"Serana, what are you doing out here?" Arven asked.

"You know exactly what I'm doing, Arven. I'm not letting you confront Meridia alone," she said.

"This isn't going to be pleasant. I'm not sure how much I can do to stop her from targeting you, if she tries. Being out here is dangerous, Serana," Arven reasoned.

"Awfully rich, coming from the man willingly holding onto her beacon. I'm staying, Arven. You can't convince me otherwise," she said, arms folded across her chest.

Arven shook his head slightly, yet he couldn't stop a small grin from emerging on his face. He felt slightly better with her close by, although that relief was mixed in with concern for her well-being. Yet there was nothing more he could do, except for confront the Daedra and try his best to bargain with her.

I really am a fool, aren't I?

Grabbing hold of the sphere resting in the bag he had, Arven took his time in removing each piece of cloth. As it all fell away, both he and Serana ended up squinting, struggling with the beacon's luminosity. As he unwrapped the orb he felt the eyes of the guards on his back, all of them peering out onto the balcony. If Arven turned around, he would've even seen Irileth watching with a morbid level of curiosity.

He felt the heat coming from the beacon even as it was still hidden, a heat that was quickly becoming intense. Overbearing. Yet he kept on going, removing more and more cloth until finally he had the beacon revealed, resting on an extended palm.

His hand felt as if it was on the brink of being burnt, even through the leather separating his skin from the orb. But that heat was nothing compared the wave of intense, bright light that erupted from the beacon shortly after it was fully revealed. Arven felt it seize his hand, an incredible pressure keeping his palm firmly attached to the beacon, leaving him unable to tear his hand away even if he wished to.

"A tainted hand touches the beacon," came a powerful, booming voice that echoed around Arven. He didn't know if it was merely in his head or if it was actually present, but he didn't have the capacity to care. The orb was searing into his hand, as if it was already trying to apply a level of control over him.

Looking to his side, Serana had one hand raised, her forearm blocking her eyes from the intense brightness. She was half crouched down, but she refused to move any further away. He saw her lips move, calling out to him, but he couldn't hear her.

"How the mighty fall. My champion, suffering from a horrid, accursed sickness surging through his veins," the voice continued. "I can sense the darkness inside of you. It reeks."

"Good to know you still recognise me," Arven forced out through grit teeth. "Saves me the explanation." Arven's vision was quickly fading, everything around him turning into nothing but a penetrating, bright white light that left him unable to focus his eyes on a single point.

"I don't believe it does. To the contrary, you owe me quite the explanation. First, for how you let yourself come into the company of such twisted creatures as the one to your side. And second, as to why you've discarded my artifact."

The beacon all of a sudden felt heavy. Incredibly heavy. It was pulling Arven's hand down to the floor, yet he did his best to resist it. The muscles in his legs were put under incredible stress as he tried his best to remain upright, defiant against the Daedric Prince. Yet despite his strength he felt his back bending, knees buckling.

"I died," Arven spat out briefly. "And I was brought back like this."

"And what killed you, I wonder? The very vampire that now hovers about you like a plague?" Meridia's voice was enraging. It echoed about Arven's head, repeating itself as it faded out into the background. When he heard it, it overpowered his other senses, leaving him incredibly disoriented. He never enjoyed talking to the Daedra, but this was on an entirely different level.

His vision started to clear ever so slightly. Emerging from the blinding light, a small shimmer came into focus before him. A cloud of golden mist, twisting about, surging ever so slowly through the void which he now found himself in. Each particle in the mist seemed to shine, and it was almost painful for Arven to gaze at.

He wasn't sure if Meridia was making it this uncomfortable for him on purpose, but it wouldn't surprise him.

"She is no plague. I died to a dragon. An undead dragon, which I killed along with dozens of minions surrounding it. I fell to my wounds after the battle, and she brought me back," Arven said, struggling with each word. He left out a few details, not wanting to say how he didn't really kill Durnehviir. Meridia didn't need to know that part.

"Brought you back as a defiled walking corpse," Meridia said. Her voice was like poison in Arven's head. A loud, throbbing, disorientating presence he was desperate to get rid of. But he'd backed himself into this corner now, and he had to argue his way out.

"If only you served as a champion should," Meridia continued, the implication in her words obvious. After Arven had claimed Dawnbreaker some time ago, the Daedra demanded that he continue to serve her. Directly. Take her weapon and purge undead throughout not only Skyrim, but past her borders.

Arven, of course, refused. He certainly used the blade to kill undead, but only when it suited him. As such, his last conversation with Meridia was rather unpleasant.

"I've done more than most," Arven countered. "And I still continue to do so. Or are you not aware that there's a plot to cast out the Sun from this world?"

There was silence for a moment, nothing but the white-hot heat in his palm and the shimmering golden mist hovering in front of him. Each second dragged on for far longer than it should as he waited for a response. He did, however, catch a glimpse of something else. He felt the softest of touches on his shoulder, and a faint shimmer in the shape of a woman at his side. It brought him a brief level of comfort. Something which he was incredibly grateful for.

Outside of Arven's head, Serana was doing anything she could to support him. Yet unfortunately there was very little that she could do. As soon as Arven grasped the beacon the entire balcony was illuminated with an incredible, painful light. It became brighter than the Sun and she found herself retreating on instinct. Even the soldiers inside stepped away from the door, shutting their eyes tight as they were momentarily blinded by the radiance.

Serana only managed to step back, closer towards him through an incredible, defiant will. Although her eyes were closed, she reached out to Arven, placing her hand on his shoulder as she huddled up next to him. It wasn't much, but she wasn't going to let him go through this alone.

Back in Arven's assaulted psyche, he felt a penetrating heat. An inquiring probe searing itself into his mind.

"Continue, mortal. What is it you speak of?" Meridia demanded.

"Servants of Molag Bal. Vampires off the coast, seeking a prophecy to blanket Skyrim in eternal darkness," Arven said. He knew this was his best chance to win Meridia over. The idea of light being removed from Skyrim entirely would no doubt come as an incredible loss to her, and a victory for her rival.

"Impossible," a single word stated as fact by the Daedra. Yet, she was wrong. And Arven could sense doubt in their voice.

"If it was impossible, I wouldn't have spent the last few months scouring this land for Elder Scrolls and weapons to stop them," Arven replied, his voice growing increasingly hoarse under the pressure exerted from the Daedra.

A deep rumbling came from inside his head, vibrations coursing through his body as the Daedric Lord simply laughed.

"And you expect me to believe that? You expect me to trust the words coming out of tainted spawn? The spawn of Molag Bal's used, tossed aside plaything?" Meridia retorted.

Arven wasn't sure if she was intentionally trying to goad him, anger him. But if she was, it was working exceptionally well.

"Do not speak of her like that. If not for her, I'd be a corpse and the prophecy would have been long since fulfilled. She is the reason light still lives in Skyrim," Arven hissed.

"I am yet to believe this prophecy exists at all. The idea that Molag Bal's spawn would work against him is laughable," Meridia retorted.

By this point Arven had his eyes closed, trying to shut out the light. Yet it barely mattered, his eyes were still flooded with the intensity, his eyelids unable to do anything up against the sheer power of Meridia's radiance.

"Yet, one question still remains. A vampire you are, you still willingly came to me. Called out to me. Why is that?" Meridia asked. Her voice seemed to carry a hint of curiosity to it, although such a fact was wasted on Arven. He was barely able to follow her words, as his other senses were assaulted.

"Cure me," Arven just about demanded. "I'm going to kill the vampire responsible for all this, and I need to be mortal to do so. To wield the weapon I found, to wield your sword."

That 'laughter' came once more, the floor beneath Arven shaking as the rumbling came back, shaking inside of his skull.

"So this is why you have claimed my beacon once more. You wish to be purified. You wish for that profane darkness to be eradicated from your body and soul," Meridia stated.

"Something like that," Arven hissed out. His teeth were grinding together from the pain.

"Eradicating that vile, accursed blood you carry is a simple task. Even if it seems to be all around you, clinging to you. For example," Meridia started before her voice trailed off. A moment later and Arven felt that small comfort at his side get torn away. He turned around, his head spinning as he was unable to make anything out. Yet he could've sworn that he saw a faint shimmering outline of someone or something being violently thrown away from him.

In that moment, he felt entirely isolated.

"No!" He shouted, anger flaring up inside of him. Yet he didn't resist it. He knew that if he was survive this, he needed to embrace it. Mustering what strength that gave him the Imperial somehow managed to push himself up onto both feet, grasping the beacon with his other hand. It only caused more pain, but seizing it between two palms let him feel as if he gained some level of control over it. His arms were bulging out from the effort it required, legs shaking as he struggled to stand.

"What. Did you do to her?" He demanded.

"I cast her out. Is that much not obvious? Why would I tolerate the presence of Molag Bal's pet?" The Daedra responded, her voice casual, as if implying such a thing were obvious.

"If you hurt her, I swear that I will do everything in my power to make you regret it," Arven said. The volume of his voice was rising, the power behind it rising as his blood began to flare up. Not his vampiric blood, it was his draconic soul that was stirring.

"You dare threaten me?" Meridia asked, her voice twisted with amusement and anger. "You beg for an audience, and now you muster the foolishness to threaten a Daedra? I should purge you where you stand!" Her words were oddly reminiscent to Arven. Brief memories of his meeting with Harkon reached his mind, and there was a small hint of irony. Polar opposites, sworn enemies. Yet both twisted by power and arrogance.

"Try me," Arven challenged. By now he was standing up fully straight, despite the strain that it took. He held the beacon in both hands, digits clamped down on the grooves running across the sphere as he continued to apply more and more pressure. He didn't know if Meridia could sense it, but he felt as if he could crush the beacon if he found out Serana had been injured.

"Know your place, mortal," Meridia scolded. "You believe that since you carry the blood of a Divine, you carry an immunity? We Daedra have no fear of the sleeping Aedra. Akatosh did not save you when you died. I could destroy you on the spot and he would be powerless to help!"

"No," Arven replied. "I don't think you're scared of Akatosh. You're scared of me." The anger he felt at the Daedra was reaching its peak. Like all the other Princes, he saw Meridia as a creature fuelled by pride and arrogance, one that used mortals as playthings to accomplish and further their own goals. Arven hated them, each and every one. And after he, and others, had suffered so much at their hands? He figured it was about time they did something for him in return.

"You're terrified of a mortal that isn't afraid of you. That isn't compelled to follow you, or submit to your twisted desires," Arven continued. "I've saved your shrine in the past. I could just as easily destroy it. And there's nothing you could do to stop me. You could find another champion, perhaps. Yet you know that there's no mortal alive on his plane that could stand in my way." Arven spoke with an arrogance, and confidence that he rarely felt. Some of it may have been false bravado, to an extent. Yet the idea of Serana being insulted and possibly hurt? That anger gave him the confidence to stand up to anything, or anyone.

"So you could try and fight me. Or you can rid me of this curse, help me rid Skyrim of those plotting to cast Skyrim in eternal night. I'll take up your blade again, sure. I'll use it to rid Skyrim of the stain that exists, threatening its safety. But after that? You won't have any more of a claim on my soul than you do now." Arven continued. He didn't even know if his words were getting through to Meridia. He could sense her emotions through the orb, and she was absolutely livid.

He felt the anger coming from the Daedra, seeping out through the orb. He knew that his hands had suffered serious burns. He wasn't even sure if the leather gloves he had were still intact. But that didn't matter. That heat coming from Meridia burnt in a way that fire could not. He felt the vampiric plague in his blood retreating from Meridia's light. It simply could not exist where Meridia's light shone, that much was obvious to Arven.

So he just needed that light to shine throughout his entire being.

"But if you're so eager to prove me wrong, then do it. Try and turn me into a husk. Purge me. If you even can," Arven finally forced out. Then he stood, feet planted, his hands tightly holding onto the beacon with his jaw grit as he waited for what was to come.

And Meridia didn't disappoint him.

"So be it,", the Daedric Prince decreed.

Arven screamed. He felt that light surging out from the orb, filling his body within a second. It felt like molten metal had been forcefully injected into his body, running straight to his heart before it was then pushed out to every vein, every artery. He felt it in his chest, his limbs, even in his skull. As the light flowed through him, the vampirism in his body immediately sought to fight it and push it out.

He felt his body instinctively start to transform on reflex. That ghoulish, horrid transformation that he suffered through once. Fingers starting to crack, bones beginning to ache and become disjointed while his skin darkened. As he screamed his voice changed, that terrifying howl of a vampire lord echoing throughout the balcony and out towards the hills behind Whiterun.

Yet it didn't last. Despite the power of a vampire lord, Arven's vampirism was no match for the hatred of a Daedra. His transformation was immediately cut short. That purging light seared the plague from his bloodstream, from every single cell in his body. Except it didn't stop there. He challenged Meridia to purge him, and she took that challenge quite seriously.

He felt her power seeping into his body, yet it didn't work for him. It worked to conquer him, leave him as a husk who's only purpose was to do her bidding and leave her light in his wake. However, Arven had other plans. He had no desire to be turned into a Daedra's servant. So even as he accepted that light into his body, he fought it. He looked deep into his soul, that vast near endless sea shifting about within his body filled with the power of dozens of dragons. Every soul he had won, every victory he had claimed over the beasts. Each was now a part of him, and that gave him a strength incomparable to anything else. As long as he'd embrace it.

And for this purpose, to rid himself of this curse and live once more? He'd embrace it all with arms wide open.

That power flooded through him. Even as Meridia tried to purge him, to turn him over to her will, he fought against it. She fought against the combined willpower of dragons, and they could be incredibly stubborn beasts. Arven was no exception to that. He refused Meridia's influence. Even as he felt her authority, her command in the back of his mind, he simply refused it.

A part of him came to respect her power. Even as she was far away, on another plane of existence, she had such incredible strength to try and dominate him with. But it wasn't enough. That ghoulish howl was replaced as the vampirism was struck out from his body, and his yell transformed. The roar of a dragon now echoed throughout the balcony. Arven spoke no words, but his voice carried the strength of the Dovah as it cascaded out past Whiterun, echoing throughout the plains and hills surrounding the city.

And with one final act of defiance, he mustered all of his strength and applied as much pressure as he could to Meridia's beacon. It held firm for a moment, that intense heat feeling as if it was burning Arven's skin off. Yet it could only hold out for so long, and as his voice filled Whiterun Arven crushed the beacon he held between his hands, flooding the area with one final explosion of light.

Then, exhausted, he collapsed.

Hello again! Back with another chapter for you all, and it didn't take six months! I've had a couple of questions come up that I'd like to answer here, as I couldn't find the way to cleanly fit them into the story. I've had people ask why Meridia, and why not certain other Daedric Princes. The main reason is simply that I believe it fits the best narratively, as she serves as a direct contrast to Molag Bal. However, for the others, a little bit of background on Arven:

He hasn't completed the companion's quest line. He knows of them, but isn't aware of their "secret". At the start of the story Arven was still suffering rather heavily from some form of PTSD, and his hatred of fighting was the exact opposite of what the companions promoted. So, they weren't exactly fast friends.

He also hasn't willingly worked with other Daedra. Meridia is the sole exception, and he did that as he could justify killing undead to gain a weapon that would help him out in the future. Following the questline for Dawnbreaker, he cut off contact with the Daedric Prince and essentially told her to get stuffed in the same way he did with Molag Bal.

There's certainly other ways for him to go about curing vampirism, but I felt this would work best. There was also the choice of doing it the in-game way, however while I feel that works for regular vampirism, being a vampire lord always felt a bit more... potent? A powerful blessing/curse should require something equally strong to counter it, at least in my mind.

Anyhow, thanks for reading! The next chapter should be out within the month. I've got most of it written, mainly as parts of it I've had envisaged for the past... year, at least? I hope you all have a good day!