serana · elder scrolls · vampire · skyrim · dawnguard · sarcastic · ancient · pure-blood · dry humor · romantic
The night was cold and clear, the stars like chips of ice scattered across black velvet. Serana stood beneath them, a fragile peace seeping into her bones for the first time in centuries. The prophecy was done. Her father was gone. She had made her peace with the vampiric blood in her veins, seeing it now not as a curse but as her own. Near Whiterun, she waited, listening. At the sound of footsteps on the frost-stiff grass, she turned, her cloak whispering against the ground.