4E 202, Northern battlefield of Labyrinthian
Serana Volkihar
The white and red mist of cold and blood mingled as the clash between the Dawnguard and Volkihar tore the frozen plain apart.
Serana's frost blossomed in jagged spirals while Isran's holy light scorched them back to warmth, fire and ice interwoven, their rhythm deadly and efficient.
Isran crushed a feral vampire beneath his hammer as Serana froze a charging thrall in mid-swing, shattering him with a contemptuous flick of her wrist. Yet even amidst the killing, her eyes kept drifting.
What surprised her were the bodies and the banners each of the thrall's bore. While a majority of them were made up of the many brigands and bandits that prowl through Skyrim's wilderness, Serana could spot the odd number among them that wore identifiable colors.
There were Imperial reds, Thalmor gold, and even the white cloaks of the Vigilants of Stendarr.
Isran had told them about the recent intel from Solitude, of how the Thalmor Ambassador had led a small army to retake their stronghold on the northern shores of Haafingar.
It seems she now sees the remnants of that army.
"He's made pawns of them all." Serana's voice was laced with disgust.
Isran grunted, slamming a thrall into the ground. "Harkon's got no shortage of fools to feed on." His voice let out with a growl. "And if we don't kill him here, all of Skyrim will become his feeding ground."
She nodded grimly, summoning a fresh wave of frost to choke a cluster of vampires closing in. But even with her and Isran at the vanguard, a paladin of his strength and a mage of her calibre, the scale was still overwhelming. Harkon's forces outnumbered them six to one.
The Dawnguard were their outermost guard, Gunmar and the armored trolls carving a chunk of the thralls' and death hounds. Sorine led the squad of crossbows in the backline, puncturing the bolts straight into the hearts of the vampires.
The few werewolves the companions had followed her Farkas' lead, serving as the mobile heavy infantry that continuously flanked and targeted the important targets in Harkon's army.
Yet even with all of it, the only thing keeping the Dawnguard, Companions, and Whiterun Guard from collapse was sheer willpower, and the man commanding them.
Through the chaos, Serana glimpsed Vilkas, standing tall amid the storm. His presence in the battlefield was what boosted the morale of the majority of their soldiers, for in his hand lies the ancient weapon of Wuuthrad.
The "Storm's Tears", the weapon of Ysgramor. Every swing sent tremors through the battlefield, every roar of his voice reignited dying hope. The double-headed axe was a symbol of strength and unity, showing the world the might of Nords and the atmorans when they freed Saarthal from the clutches of the Snow Elves.
He was the kind of leader Serana could never be. A man who could rally an army.
But she was fine with that, for a leader was not what she wanted to be. That was Kiera and Gerron both, commanders of the next generation of heroes. For her, she's content with supporting them with everything she has.
An arrow whistled past her cheek, close enough to draw blood. She turned, eyes as cold as the Sea of Ghosts, and unleashed a blizzard so fierce the air froze solid.
Vampires were naturally immune to cold, but the same could not be said for their thralls.
Her magic had flash frozen her surroundings as dozens of thralls turned to ice, their limbs breaking apart like glass. From beside her, Isran lit himself in warm, golden light. Counteracting her cold to prevent it from affecting their allies.
"Careful with the large attacks, Serana," he said gruffly. "We can't afford to be too reckless."
"Yeah, I know." Serana replied coolly. "Though none of this matters if we don't—"
A chilling laugh interrupted her that split the night. One so deep, cultured, and cruel, it rippled through the battlefield.
At the heart of the battlefield, amidst a pile of corpses, bathed in the moonlight, stood Harkon Volkihar.
In one hand, the Mace of Molag Bal pulsed with sickly green light. In the other, a black longsword with a guard shaped like a bat's wings shimmered with shadow.
He stood there like a veritable god of war, despite the mountain of corpses already surrounding him, not a single drop of blood marred his body. He looked noble, refined, every bit the charming Vampire Lord Serana remembered him by.
Serana froze where she stood. Her father had always been terrifying, but never had he looked so divine.
Another chilling laugh exited his mouth as a Whiterun guard captain grit his teeth at the death of his comrades and charged forth, screaming a battle cry.
Harkon didn't even look. He swung the longsword, a long crescent of shadows released from the blade that cleaved the man in half before continuing to fly, slicing a deep smoking scar into the mountainside beyond.
A brave Dawnguard charged from behind him, his sword blazing with holy fire. Yet even that was useless, for a single swing with the Mace of Molag Bal annihilated the entire top half of the Dawnguard member.
The lower body fell to the ground, releasing a soft squelch. The blood seeped into the mace as Harkon took a deep breath, reinvigorated.
Serana could see how the morale of the men were quickly dropping at the face of this monster. The feeling of hopelessness creeping through their ranks.
The Dawnguard faltered. Even the Companions hesitated. And yet the worst of it all was that Serana knew. This was not her father's true form.
In the din of battle, their eyes met, and her breath hitched.
Harkon smiled, "My long-lost daughter returns at last."
Serana could feel her fists clenching, her nails piercing the skin of her palm. She didn't even bother with a reply. A flick of her wrists had a dozen spectral bats fly out and surround her father, who gazed at them curiously.
Not a second later, each bat exploded, covering her father's form in smoke. Though she knew that was nowhere near enough, she swirled her hands, ice cracking beneath her feet as she summoned twin spells, frost in her left hand, lightning in her right.
With a scream, she slammed both into the ground, a surge of frost lancing toward Harkon, encasing his legs in glacial chains as arcs of lightning danced through them.
Isran charged from the side, radiant and furious, wielding a thirty-foot hammer of solid sunlight. The very air rippled under its divine heat as he brought it down.
The impact was like a gong, echoing across the battlefield.
For a second there was silence, and then laughter.
Harkon stood amidst the wreckage, unharmed. His hand was raised, casually holding the radiant hammer in mid-swing. His legs were frozen solid in electrified ice, though all it took was a quick flex as the ice shattered.
"Not even a greeting, daughter mine?" His tone was almost gentle. "And you must be Isran of the Dawnguard. Champion of Stendarr."
Isran gritted his teeth, his hands shaking as he tried to exert force downwards into the hammer, but it remained unmoving. "What a goddamn monster."
"I prefer 'visionary.'" Harkon smiled. "You carry the light of your god well… but it will not save you."
Harkon turned to see his raised hand. The palm that touched the hammer was sizzling, though the wound healed as quickly as it burned. "I must say, you are impressive. It's been a while since I've seen light that could even harm me. Though not even this is enough."
He clenched his palm, The hammer shattered in his grasp, fragments of light scattering into fading motes.
"I see the show of strength did not diminish your lust for battle in the slightest." He stepped forward, aura swelling. Around them, the sounds of battle still emanated in the background, though all three ignored it.
Vilkas, noticing the confrontation, roared out orders to move back. The battlefield parted, Farkas in werewolf form ripping through any vampire who dared approach.
Soon only three figures remained in the clearing. Isran, Serana, and Harkon.
"Come then," Harkon said, spreading his arms, weapons gleaming. "When this ends, daughter, I shall take you to the Soul Cairn to see your mother. She has waited long enough."
Serana's breath caught.
That was impossible.
'He couldn't have spoken with her… could he?'
She bit back the question and let fury burn instead. Lightning erupted from her hand that she launched forward, he sidestepped effortlessly. Isran followed through, his hammer of light reforming in a blaze, swinging it in a two-handed arc that could split a dragon's skull.
Harkon caught it with his sword and pushed. The clash unleashed a wave of divine fire and shadow that sent both Serana and Isran staggering back. The snow melted, the ground cracked open, and dozens of nearby soldiers were thrown to the ground.
He moved faster than Serana could track, a blur of shadows and bats, his form dissolving and reforming behind Isran.
The paladin spun, bringing up his hammer just in time to block a downward swing of the mace. The ground cratered.
Serana unleashed a volley of ice shards and lightning bolts. Harkon let them hit, his armor blackening as frost crawled across his chest. Then he simply breathed out, the ice cracked and burst apart.
He laughed, a booming sound that drowned out the screams of battle around them.
Isran roared, his entire body igniting with holy fire, charging again.
This time, his hammer connected, slamming into Harkon's side with a blinding flash that vaporized snow for twenty feet around.
The vampire lord stumbled, smoke rising from his armor. His smile turned to a frown for a mere second.
"Good," he said softly. "You can hurt me."
Then he stepped into the blow, letting it land fully, and brought his mace crashing down on Isran's chest. The Dawnguard leader's armor crumpled with a sickening crunch, divine light sputtering as he was thrown across the field.
"ISRAN!" Serana screamed, flinging a storm of lightning that ripped into her father's back. He turned, eyes burning crimson, and vanished into a swarm of bats that reformed inches from her.
His hand closed around her throat before she could react.
"Oh daughter mine," Harkon whispered, voice like silk and stone. "Still clinging to wretches and vermin…to hope."
Her answer was a blast of lightning point-blank into his face. He hissed, staggered, and she tore free, landing hard on the frozen earth.
She let out another blast of lighting from her palms, the air between them crackling with thunder that sent Harkon back for half a step.
And as Isran rose again, coughing blood but still gripping his hammer, the three forces collided once more, light, frost, and shadow intertwining in a clash that shook all of Labyrinthian's northern plain.
…
4E 202, Within Labyrinthian
Kiera Fendalyn, the Dragonborn
Labyrinthian was colossal.
Every breath Kiera took echoed back at her, swallowed by the ancient stone. The city was far larger than she had ever imagined.
It was not just a ruin, but a kingdom entombed beneath Skyrim's spine. Even after the countless caves, temples, and tombs she'd traversed as Dragonborn, this place felt different. Older in a way she couldn't comprehend.
She could see where entire towers had collapsed and sunk into the snow, their spires jutting at odd angles like broken teeth. Frost and ruin had claimed everything, yet the scale still humbled her.
Massive plazas buried under centuries of ice, corridors wide enough for dragons to have flown through, and that great circular mound in the center not unlike the many Dragon Burial Mounds found throughout Skyrim.
Kiera's breath misted in the frigid air. "At its prime, this place might've been as big as Whiterun." she muttered, awed despite herself. "Maybe bigger."
Savos strode ahead of her. His eyes gleamed a bit of melancholy, as if replaying memories of a time that Kiera couldn't even begin to gleam. "You're not wrong," he said, voice low but steady. "The city was a marvel in its prime. A seat of magical power, perhaps the seat. Archmagus Shalidor himself had a hand in its creation."
Kiera blinked. "Shalidor?"
He nodded, running a gloved hand over a nearby wall etched with ancient Nordic runes. "He saw this place as a nexus between mortal and divine realms, a labyrinth of both stone and thought. What secrets lie beneath…" His gaze flickered to her, and the gleam faded. "But such wonders can wait. The wards that sealed Morokei are a far more troubling threat."
"Then let's not dally," Kiera said firmly. "The war outside won't wait for us."
Savos nodded. "Indeed it won't. Please follow me."
They crossed the central courtyard, passing the half-buried tower and the frost-bitten ruins. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they approached a massive ceremonial door carved with depictions of the dragons during the Merethic Era.
The door was opened, hanging slightly ajar. Around it were footsteps in the snow that led all the way inside.
Savos raised a hand, murmured a soft incantation, the faint blue shimmer of a detection spell rippled outward. "A dozen people at least." he said quietly, crouching to examine the floor. "Very recent."
Kiera crouched beside him, her gloved fingers brushing the prints. "They're heading deeper in," she noted. "Organized, too."
She looked back up, the blackness of the interior yawning from within. "Shall we?"
Savos nodded as entered through the ceremonial doors. The silence within the tomb was eerie, the only sound accompanying them were rhythmic echoes of their own footsteps.
As they reached a crossing in the hallway, they saw a corpse lying down in the center, bearing the red cloth of the Mythic Dawn.
The cultist's throat was torn open, the blood seeping into the cracks of the ground.
"Of course it's them again." Kiera growled, the memory of her mother's injury still echoing through her mind. A wound from Mehrunes Razor was not so easily healed, though they did have a clue now.
Gerron's healing tincture that he had created managed to suppress the curse, though it seems like it wasn't capable of healing it fully.
Kiera had been wanting to repay the Mythic Dawn tenfold for the attack they had done on the Hall of Vigilants, and it seems like she has a chance now.
She clenched her jaw until her teeth ached. "They don't stop, do they? Even after everything."
Savos's face was grim. "Fanaticism rarely dies quietly."
They pressed forward, deeper into the dark. The stone halls grew narrower, the air colder. The torches that lined the walls burned with pale blue fire.
It didn't take long until voices could be heard from the other chamber. Kiera and Savos slowed their steps and settled their breathing, straining their ears to hear it.
"Those ghosts spoke of their ally killed by something from behind," came a rasping voice, unmistakably Argonian. "Yet we haven't seen anything nearly as threatening."
"Do not let your guard down." A woman's voice spoke up, sharp and commanding. Ruma Camoran, if Kiera's memory serves. "My father wishes for us to find the secrets here and I will not disappoint him."
The voices faded deeper down the corridor.
Kiera exhaled slowly, tension coiled tight in her chest. "Looks like they just arrived… They must've slipped in during the chaos outside."
Savos's expression darkened. "Then it wasn't them that weakened my wards. Something else did." His voice was a low murmur, threaded with unease. "That worries me more than their presence."
"Which means that stealth is meaningless. We need to move quickly." Kiera said, her grip tightening on Dawnbreaker.
Savos inclined his head. "Agreed."
Forgoing all kinds of means to conceal their movements, Kiera and Savos just ran on ahead, now realizing that time is of the essence.
…
AN: Harkon is a monster, plain and simple. A Vampire Lord, as close to pure-blood as can be, further empowered by being the Champion of Molag Bal.
Serana and Isran have a tough fight coming for them as the Night of Convergence rages on around them.
Gerron is still tangling with Volsung, which we will see in the next chapter. Kiera and Savos descend deeper into Labyrinthian, where Ruma and Raven Camoran are waiting for them.
Also, Vilkas has Wuuthrad, which is fun.
Writing this entire war is both a blast but also very headache inducing. There's so many moving parts, it's making my head spin.
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it.
More chapters are available on my Pat_reon. Chapter 88 should be available by the time this chapter was posted. Just look up my name and you'll find me.
Cheers guys and see you next time!