'How I wish I could be there to see it.'

Virdanyis smiled at Teldryn's gentle words as the pale moonlight shone through the still branches of the forest trees. It was summer in The Vale; the sweet and subtle fragrance of little flowers and fresh pine needles laced the sweet night air.

Virdanyis' son Sahren was in his eighteenth year; tomorrow, he would be crowned as reigning monarch of the New Falmer Kingdom.

Virdanyis knew that Teldryn would come to see him on this night; to sit and talk as they used to before everything had changed.

It was so strange to look at him now that he was dead.

The change he had gone through had not created as many differences as Virdanyis had anticipated; the same voice was still there, the same personality. He appeared as he always had, except for his eyes; the bright orange and yellow eyes which glowed in the twilight, burning with a quiet and tempered power.

He could sometimes see the long fangs when Teldryn spoke or laughed, but they were subtle. And even though Virdanyis knew that Teldryn was now a creature of the night - and a terrifyingly powerful one at that - he had never felt endangered by him. He was, to him, the same as he had always been - the friend who had always been at his side during his battles and hardships, who had shared his joys and sorrows, who would make fun of him for not being able to hold his drink.

They never spoke of the circumstances surrounding his vampirism.

Virdanyis only knew that Sahren and his sister, Serenwen, thought that their mother had died in childbirth, and that Teldryn had gone missing after they had come to The Vale. He knew that Nysteris, who had turned him, had received her curse directly from Molag Bal; it would stand to reason that Teldryn's affliction would have granted him greater strength and abilities than a common vampire. He was not the same as the wretched and fevered creatures which lurked in the cold and dark crevasses of Skyrim's wilderness; he was different.

It was a tragedy. But it had not stopped Teldryn from seeking out the companionship of his friend; something that seemed to soothe and calm him.

They would talk for hours about Sahren and Serenwen; about politics in The Vale; they would laugh and reminisce, still sharing the same pipe they had used eighteen years ago, packed with the same perfumed tobacco.

'He's nervous,' Virdanyis said quietly, smiling as he spoke. 'He was in rehearsals all day yesterday. Gelebor is more excited than any of us.'

'Of course,' Teldryn smirked. 'That man has had the patience of a saint trying to pass that crown on.'

'Serenwen is taking it well enough, considering what's being asked of her.'

'Oh, I've been watching.' Teldryn turned his gaze toward the ground as the sat on the fallen log, a hint of concern passing across his face. 'I hope she understands...'

'She has a good heart.'

Teldryn smiled to himself as he recognised Virdanyis' attempt to comfort him.
He already knew that Serenwen did not bear her mother's dark streak; she did not relish in slaughter and bloodshed the way Nysteris did. It had been one of Teldryn's greatest fears; that the next Herald would inherit the darkness of her mother.

Her vices were typical of one her age; she loved men, money, getting up to trouble. She was her father's daughter. And Teldryn did not want to stifle her in her early years; while Sahren had inherited the throne, he had not inherited the dragon blood. And not unlike vampirism, being Dragonborn was a curse of sorts in itself: while granting incredible power, it bound her to a life of servitude and constant conflict; and it would eventually break her heart when the time came when she fell in love. She would never be able to know the peaceful life of married bliss, or the sweetness of motherhood.
So, if she wanted to enjoy her youth while it was still hers, before she began to live the life of a guardian, so be it.

'She will be at the ceremony tomorrow?'

'Yes. Hopefully. Well, I would expect so.' Virdanyis drew on the pipe, meeting Teldryn's gaze as he continued to speak. 'You know, I have a very discreet viewing room from which to view the ceremony. Private balcony. Shaded. If you should change your mind.'

The vampire smiled warmly, his teeth barely visible through his slightly parted lips as his eyes glowed in the darkness. 'You shouldn't tempt me.'

'Well. The offer is there if you should decide to take it.'

'...as is mine, old friend.' He stood, extending his hand toward the snow elf as he prepared to leave. 'Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. To behold our new king.'

'I look forward to it.'