#iyh

 As the years passed and word slowly (and quietly) spread a mage named Falion arrived at the castle -- they became close companions and spent many hours in the laboratory, discovering that prized cure though Falion opted to accept Valerica's offer to turn him in the end, desiring the eternal time of immortality to continue his studies.

 News of the cure was taken to the Dawnguard and soon people were trickling in seeking it.

 -----

 Serana hadn't intended to place herself in a ruling position but in retrospect she supposed it was destined to happen.  She and Ralsten began small and it was difficult to not be discouraged as time and again they found themselves wiping out small dens of vampires who refused to come to heel.

 Slowly, however, they began rooting out those first ones willing to obey and serve -- there was resistance initially over feeding off animal blood but through a combination of kindly speech, careful threats, and the knowledge that many of their kin had already been destroyed there began to grow a small group at the castle that bent knee to Serana and Ralsten's rules, and when the cure was discovered many took it and the population there was ever changing as people arrived, were cured, and left.  Some chose to remain vampires and stay within the court's protection, and were present to welcome the newcomers and see to the daily operations within the castle's walls.

 Serana and Ralsten's affection for one another never faltered, and while their "rule" such as it was was firm and unyielding they did it coupled with fairness.  Serana often found that Ralsten was her moral compass as there were times where she strayed back toward the teachings of "power takes precedence."  It was times like this that made her ever grateful that she had him at her side.

 When the Jarls heard of their growing influence they came together, concerned and threatening destruction.  To her surprise the Dawnguard spoke on their behalf and brokered a deal where ALL who came to the castle had to be cured or destroyed.

 Outnumbered and bitter, but ultimately grudgingly accepting of the chance at life, Serana had no choice but to agree.

 Months later, however, over dinner and after a lengthy discussion, Serana and Ralsten downed the vials of blood taken from Valerica before the cure was forced on her and then continued their work.

 -----

 As her father had hoped and dreamed for her Lucia grew into a strong, intelligent, graceful woman who learned the bard's trade and traveled around singing the epics and legends.

 She never stopped penning and singing songs of her father's bravery and adventures, however, which estranged her from her peers and eventually she was quietly pushed from society as her skills and services were no longer requested and she was given no other assignments.

 Even though she eventually shuttered her father's store and ended the lucrative trade contracts she had been left a fortune and frugal living meant she had more than enough to live on into her twilight years.

 One night, as she lay old and feeble in bed, she and her wealth disappeared from her home.  None knew what had happened to her, but the world moved on.

 In the courtyard of a castle not far from where she'd grown up was a well-tended, often visited grave.

 -----

 He had sought Lydia out a final time just to thank her for her service when he'd found that she had been dismissed by Faraan and Eveline and sent back to Whiterun.  There she'd been assigned to another Thane and had married him eventually -- Ralsten had thanked her for everything, wished her well, and then vanished completely from her life.

 He knew no higher joy than spending time with Serana - their work was hard but he was, as ever, her 'big armored idiot' and willingly put himself between her and any danger that decided to look their direction.

 When the Jarls threatened them, before the Dawnguard had stepped in on their behalf, he'd spent many tense meetings with them explaining time and again what they struggled to do and why, and how it benefited mortals and vampire alike.  He thought that if he'd had more time, or less pressure from the Empire, that he could have swayed them to their cause eventually -- the Dawnguard's assistance was invaluable in saving them, though the price for it was a bitter one to pay.

 Many times he found himself sitting in the courtyard, weeding around the simple gravestone placed there for his little girl -- Serana often left him alone when he came out here and he didn't fault her as Lucia had never been hers even though the girl had only been his for three years or so.  He still remembered with crystal clarity how he'd found her begging in the streets, had dressed and fed her, then dressed himself in his finest clothes and went to confront the family that had driven her away from her birthright.  The looks on their faces when he'd declared their farm's produce would never once be permitted in his trade routes or stores was priceless and still something that brought him amusement even now.

 After the attention of the Jarls and Empire had moved elsewhere, confident that the court was sufficiently cowed, Ralsten had gladly taken the blood again and gone to rest in his coffin that still remained side by side with Serana's.

 There were still many tiny, forgotten pockets of Skyrim to search.  Their work wasn't done.

 -----

 They never did give this new venture a name so this newly established court was still known as Volkihar...but they felt, as time went on, they were redeeming the name.

 The castle was dark, dreary, and crumbling in many places that hadn't seen people in centuries -- as the population there grew there were craftsmen among their ranks and they set about repairing and tidying the place up, making it something livable again.

 There were those who were thralls that were freed from the magic and sent on their way as well as people who sought the cure, and when they left they didn't forget the court they'd dwelled within even though it was just for a short time.  

 Soon there was first a small fishing village on the shoreline, keeping the boats and docks well in order and helping people to make the crossing to the castle. As more were cured and left there grew small pockets across Skyrim full of grateful people -- those that had been cured, those that had been freed, and those who had family that had been cured or now lived within the castle's walls.  They quietly sent everything they could spare to the castle to support those that remained there, and soon they had more than enough to ensure that none that sought them would go hungry.

 Soon alongside the thralls and vampires came regular people seeking shelter and a means to earn their living - those desperate enough to seek help among a despised people.  These people were slowly directed out to the little towns and farms that sent the supplies, with the instruction to be discrete.

 There were many times where individual holds and cities took up arms and attempted to confront the castle's inhabitants -- they were met with words first and violence second.  A time came where the attacks slowed but then the Jarls came together to force the issue of Volkihar's growing influence.

 Many who were forced to take the cure still chose to stay, and there were whispers that the Lady and Lord who led them were somehow powerful enough to be immune to the cure as they seemed unchanged in appearance and manner after the declaration.

 Slowly but surely, even though support for Volkihar never grew very large, it became self-sustainable and consistent.

"What's so different?"

"I'm not really sure...it looks familiar, but at the same time very different.  It's hard to explain."

He grunted in acknowledgement; after that they'd walked in a comfortable silence until the sun was just beginning to set.  In the very far distance he could see the Blue Palace, and knew they would need to veer to the northwest to eventually reach the main road to get up and then over the mountain range that the city was built upon.

"Do you...know how long you might have been down there?"

"I...can't really tell.  I feel like it was a long time.  Who is Skyrim's high king?"

Ralsten chuckled and earned himself a questioning look from the woman.  "That's actually a matter of debate at the moment."

Her expression and tone went flat.  "Oh, wonderful.  A war of succession.   Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone.  Who's fighting over the throne?"

"Well, on one side you have Ulfric Stormcloak, jarl of Windhelm.  On the other is Elisif, widowed wife of High King Torygg."

"I've not heard of Ulfric, and you say Elisif is...  Are either of them particularly well supported?"

Ralsten blew out a sigh.  "Well, the Empire supports Elisif, but there's a lot of people across Skyrim who are loyal to Ulfric."

Serana slowly turned her head to him.  "Empire?  What...empire?"

Again, the absurdity of how old this woman had to be struck him, and he tried very hard not to laugh.  "The Empire.  From Cyrodiil."

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?  I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than anyone planned...  Please, let's hurry.  I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

He nodded, and gestured to the city near the top of the mountain and at the Blue Palace perched on the giant stone arch, both just barely visible through the trees they traveled under.  "That is Solitude there, and your island will be on the other side of that range.  We'll be over it by tomorrow afternoon."

Serana nodded, though she looked troubled and didn't speak much after that.

They walked until night fully fell, then made camp along the side of the road; aside from a single patrolling guard they saw no one and heard nothing more than the sounds of insects and wildlife as the wilds came alive around them, and Serana still did not speak as Ralsten laid out a horse hide blanket for them to sit on beside a small fire.

Much later, with the fire dying down, Ralsten finally broke the silence.  "We are heading to your family home...was it them who locked you away?"

Shifting uncomfortably she refused to meet his eyes.  "I'd...rather not get into that with you.  If that's all right.  I'm sorry, it's not that...  It's just, I don't know who I can trust yet.  Let's get to my home, and I'll have a better sense of where we all stand."

The wood elf nodded to her, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  "Fair enough.   What should I expect, when we reach there?"

"...I'm not really sure."

"Can you tell me nothing of your home?"

"I already mentioned it was on an island...and, thinking about it, hopefully we can find a boat to take us there.  It's not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around I'll be safe there."

At that Ralsten straightened, looking at her in confusion.  "Safe?  Why wouldn't you be safe in your own home?  If your family is there..."

"Let's just say that my mother and father had a bit of a falling out.  Don't worry, I'm not in any actual danger from them or anything like that...it's just going to be unpleasant to run into my father.  We don't really get along -- ugh, saying that out loud makes it sound so...common.  A little girl who doesn't get along with her father -- tell me you haven't heard that story a hundred times."

He laughed quietly and prodded at the smoldering embers.  "Perhaps I have.  But, your story is still unique because it's yours and no one elses, no matter how similar it may seem to something you've read before."  

The look she'd given him was at first confused, then she'd smiled and looked to the stars, commenting on how she was grateful she could see them again.  Some of the tension had faded, and they began to idly chat about Skyrim - it's weather and seasons, what holds and regions still existed and soon Ralsten found himself explaining the war as well. After awhile, as their conversation fell away and the night grew deeper, his attention shifted from his ancient vampire companion to his current situation.

He felt that the Dawnguard would skin him alive for not killing her and taking the Elder Scroll she carried -- Isran seemed to be an honorable, intelligent man - definitely shrewd and strong to have survived this long hunting vampires - but while he seemed to present his cause as righteous, as a way to protect Skyrim's people, Ralsten suspected hatred drove the man more than anything else.  He could definitely see Isran wanting to kill Serana without fully exploring who she was, why she was locked away, and why she possessed an Elder scroll...on one hand he didn't want to believe the man could be that shortsighted, but on the other he really, really hated vampires and never missed an opportunity to remind others of that fact.

That Serana was...nervous about her father and couldn't tell him what to expect when they'd arrived at her family home was also of concern, and he wasn't certain how he could or should prepare for what they were walking in to.  And, being as they were going to an island, if it happened that he (or they) should need to quickly escape...unless they found someone willing to take them over and then wait there Ralsten expected they would be rowing a boat themselves and there was no quick means to cast off and get away from the shore if it was just them...or him.  Especially not if it was just him, in his heavy armor -- and that was assuming he could even reach the boat quickly enough.

So many unknown variables...it was starting to make him nervous himself.

-------------------------------------------

The conversation with Harkon was a bit of a blur.  Ralsten remembered the introductions (and the striking, intimidating figure of Harkon himself) with a crystal clarity but it felt...rushed, in his mind.  Rushed and charged with an anxious energy, and with a relief that he'd made it out of there.

Granted, he'd only made it out of there because the Lord had banished him; it made his stomach clench as he remembered the hand raising, the spell hitting him, and then collapsing backward into the boat he and Serana had arrived on.  The Lord had, as a thanks for rescuing his daughter, given him the choice of becoming a vampire or walking out alive but after his refusal he'd declared that the wood elf was banished, and that had brought to mind nightmarish planes - the places that daedra walked, or were "banished" to when defeated - and he'd truly not known what to expect as the magic swallowed him up and then spat him back out elsewhere.

It was a relief to see the familiar sky of Skyrim over his head once the panic of the forced relocation had worn off and Ralsten had slowly rowed the way back to the mainland alone.

There were other minor details of the encounter that stood out more than others.  Harkon had boasted how he was one of the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim, and the wood elf had assumed it was to try and entice him to take the "reward" offered for Serana's safe return...and, he would be lying if he hadn't thought for a moment that such a reward would be forced on him, standing there in the great hall surrounded by Harkon's vampiric court.

And of course...that terrifying demonstration.  Part man, part...beast.  Bat.   Gargoyle?  Ralsten had no words for the form, only a memory of pallid skin stretched over muscle, dressed in gold and gems and with clawed hands, feet, and teeth that looked like they could tear right through his steel plate.

But...he'd made it out.  The Lord had kept his word and spared him this one time because he'd rescued his daughter.   Serana and the Elder Scroll she'd carried were both still within the castle, and Ralsten knew trying to reach either of them again would be suicide - he was left without Serana, and without answers.

The return journey to Fort Dawnguard was considerably more tense; Harkon had promised only to spare him then, that one time, and declared him prey afterward like any other mortal.  That an entire room of vampires had seen his face, and heard his name...Ralsten supposed he would need to be far more cautious, especially if Serana mentioned he was a member of the Dawnguard to any of them (if they hadn't considered him an important target then, they certainly would if they heard about THAT little detail).

It was past midnight, after a week of hard riding, when he found himself climbing the path to the fort; he'd made the trip unscathed and unbothered... But, he was not looking forward to reporting to Isran, and he'd planned to do so in the morning but found Isran pacing in the main foyer when he entered the fort.

"You.  You've returned.  So, any luck?  Was Tolan right about the vampires being interested in Dimhollow Crypt?"

Ralsten shouldered the heavy door shut, letting loose a sigh he felt originated somewhere near his toes before turning to face the man.  "Yes...the place was crawling with vampires.  Tolan was right, and he's dead - the vampires killed him.  He went in alone before I got there."

Isran pressed his lips into a thin line, irritation clear on his face.  "Damn fool, I told him not to go.  The Vigilants always had more bravery than sense...  Did you at least find out what they were looking for in there?"

Ralsten jerked his head to the side, nodding toward room off to the left - if he was going to be kept from bed filling Isran in right this moment then he was going to do it sitting down and out of his armor.  After a moment Isran nodded and stalked off that direction; Ralsten followed and moved to the far empty corner, beginning to peel his armor off and hang it on a rack hanging from pegs hammered into the stone wall.

"-they were looking for a woman that was sealed in the crypt," Ralsten went on, once he was down to just his boots and the padded cloth clothing he wore under the plate.  He dropped onto a stool; Isran remained standing, and began to pace.

"That doesn't make sense.  Where is this woman?  Who is she?"

The wood elf hesitated -- he knew he was mere seconds away from enraging the man.  "...I don't -"

"We were attacked while you were searching," Isran interrupted.  His tone was sharp and Ralsten looked up in surprise; the man continued to pace but it became more agitated, Isran himself looking ready to strike something - or someone - down.  "I should've known it was only a matter of time before they found us.  It's the price we pay for openly recruiting.  We'll have to step up our defenses, take measures to stop them, and to do that we need any and all information you found about this crypt, and that woman.  No delaying."

At that Isran directed an icy glare at the wood elf; Ralsten subtly leaned back on his stool, ready to move if the man moved toward him.  He'd expected Isran to be as direct and...well, sour as ever, but now knowing that he was wound up from an attack...

"The woman, she - she wanted to go home.  So I took her home.  To a castle on an island near Solitude."

"...and?"

"She's the daughter of a powerful vampire lord. The castle is where they're holed up."

Isran stopped and spun on a heel to face him.  "And you delivered her right to them?  Are you mad?"

Ralsten held up his hands, a guilty look creeping across his face.  "It's...it gets worse.  She had an Elder Scroll."

"What?  And you didn't stop her?  You didn't secure the scroll?"

"I'm lucky I made it out alive at all.  I...I took her there expecting to learn more of what was going on.  There was a castle, and I was taken into its hall, there were ten vampires there, along with the Lord Harkon.  There were simply too many of them and not enough of me to have done anything, Isran...I'm sorry.  And, Lord Harkon himself...he's a monster.  I don't think I could handle him on my own either."

Isran ground his teeth, spitting out "-so they have everything they wanted, and we're left with nothing."  After a moment he closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly, his expression visibly relaxing some, then looked to Ralsten again.  "I suppose you ARE lucky you're not dead.  Or worse...one of them."

"He...tried, actually.  He offered me the chance to become a vampire - to join him.  I obviously said no," Ralsten added quickly as Isran's expression hardened again.  "When I said no he magically threw me out of the castle, and I got out of there."

Isran nodded then rubbed a hand over his face and beard, going back to pacing.  "By the Divines, this couldn't get much worse.  This is more than you and I, or anyone else left here, can handle.  We're going to need help.  If they're already bold enough to attack us here then this may be bigger than I thought.  I have good men here, but...  There are people I've met and worked with over the years.  We'll need their skills, their talents, if we're going to survive this.  If you can find them, we might have a chance."

Ralsten inwardly groaned - he'd been hoping to get at least one full night's sleep before being shoved out the door again.  "All right...who am I looking for?"

That earned him a begrudging chuckle from the man.  "Right to the point, aren't you.  I like that."  His expression hardened briefly.  "Not like those fools in the order..."  Isran sighed again, suddenly looking older than his years.  "We should keep it small.  Too many people and we'll draw unwanted attention to ourselves...moreso than we have already, that is.  I've two in mind.  I need you to find Sorine Jurard - Breton girl, whip-smart and good with tinkering - fascination with Dwemer, weapons in particular.  Last I knew she was out in the Reach, convinced she was about to find the biggest dwarven ruin yet."

Nodding wearily Ralsten reached for his bag, rooting around until he pulled out a tightly rolled handful of maps, held closed with a simple leather tie.   He sorted through them as Isran watched, rubbing at his eyes.  "The Reach...you can't be more specific?"  Isran merely shook his head, and Ralsten inwardly groaned again.  

The Reach was a fairly sizeable stretch of land; if she was studying dwemer ruins that narrowed it down only slightly.  Maybe someone in Markarth would know of her...but having to search through so much land seemed rather daunting.  And that was IF she was above ground -- dwemer ruins were, for the most part, underground.  If she was wandering about in one of those there was no telling how long it'd take to find her.

"And the other?"

"His name is Gunmar.  Big brute of a Nord, hates vampires almost as much as I do.  Got it into his head years back that his experience with animals would help - trolls in particular, from what I hear.  Last I heard of him he was out scouring Skyrim for more beasts to tame.  Bring the two of them back here and we can get started on coming up with a plan."

It took all of his strength not to throttle the man.  A woman somewhere in the Reach and a man somewhere out in the whole of Skyrim?  How did Isran expect him to possibly find these people?

"All right.  I'll head out in the morning," Ralsten finally muttered as he pushed himself from his stool and staggered toward one of the hide-lined cots pushed up against the wall.

"Sleep is for the weak, elf."

"I'd argue sleep is what keeps me from becoming weak.  I am exhausted and I'd make nothing but an easy target."  He perched on the edge of the cot and met Isran's disapproving gaze without flinching.  "I will leave in the morning," he repeated, speaking slowly and firmly.