"You're aware your healing magic won't work on me."

"I am. Luckily enough, I happen to be an experienced healer in the traditional method."

The vampire woman flinched slightly as Bren wrapped a clean piece of cloth around her bloodied arm, a parting gift from a Gargoyle slain by her hand. She had been too slow to react this time, a claw sweeping across her bicep as she impaled the great stone monster with a shard of glacial power. It took quite an impressive being to draw blood from a vampire lord, but it seemed her mother had prepared these creatures to be strong enough to give even Lord Harkon a fair challenge.

Sat upon a small wooden chair long abandoned in the forgotten hall of Castle Volkihar, Serana had to admit she felt the slightest bit embarrassed that she had let something so simple give her a wound. It was a gentle reminder that she was not truly immortal, merely that years did not catch her as they would a lesser being. As they would Bren, the man who stared down at her bloodied sleeve with tender eyes.

Thankfully he hadn't made another snide comment or quip, pulling a small length of pristine white cloth from a pouch on his belt, alongside a small bottle of clear liquid. When he popped the top of the bottle open, she could immediately smell the vapors of liquor.

"I assure you that this will not be a common occurrence," she added in an attempt to redeem her reputation and keep the Dragonborn from being her personal nurse, but the soft smile that he wore on his lips all but sealed her fate.

"Mhm. Just keep still."

The pain was miniscule if even there at all, and before long the injury was wrapped in white linen and secured with a metal pin. Bren inspected his handiwork for a moment as if he wasn't too confident that he had done it right. It had been a long time since he had to use such a commonplace skill, the reliance on his growing powers of magicka proving to make the art of healing outdated. It seemed to be holding tightly, and that would have to do for now.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Now, we have an Elder Scroll to locate, no?"

"Right. I have a feeling this room is the answer-"

Serana's mind slowly returned to the present reality as she rubbed her bicep, just over where the wound had been. She'd lived for longer than most historians could recount, yet often on these slow rides through open country she found herself recounting the memories she'd made of late. Perhaps it was because all of her older thoughts involved things that were unpleasant to be reminded of, or perhaps she just preferred the company she kept now.

What a horrid thought.

A short distance ahead of her and her mare was Bren atop his stallion, his head shifting back and forth as he swept their surroundings with keen eyes. Serana had learned rather quickly that the Rift was not exactly the most safe place to be riding alone as a noblewoman, though the thieves had found themselves outmatched by her magical skill. She would have much prefered to frighten the grimy men away as opposed to killing them, but these bandits were more mangy, desperate, and courageous than the average mugger. They responded to only the language of violence.

Her midnight hued mare whickered beneath her, growing bored of such slow and monotonous travel. Serana hummed with a light smile as she brushed her beauty's mane, putting the beast at ease for the time being. When they had first set out on their journey, Serana had been given a choice of mounts so that she could travel in some measure of comfort as opposed to sitting on the back of Bren's saddle. The stablemaster in Riften had offered her the choice of many strong and burly horses suited for war or hunting or even plowing the field, but she chose the spirited mare. Bren had questioned her decision at first, unsure if she knew much about the benefits of each type of horse, but theory and spirit often did not align. Serana could tell that they were kindred creatures from the moment she locked eyes on the dark coat of the smaller horse.

Dancer proved to be a fickle horse, only listening to her rider and rarely anyone else. Stabling her had become a bit of a chore as she was prone to biting and resisting anyone but Serana. Often times Dancer simply wandered the grassy spaces of Dayspring Canyon waiting for her master to return. Bren's mount, a mottled brown stallion he had taken to calling Mud, was quite the opposite and was a model of obedience. She had once asked why he rode such a plain and ordinary horse, to which he had explained that fewer people would expect the Dragonborn to ride such an ordinary mount. She supposed it made sense, considering one of his other options was an undead bone horse.

There she was reveling in the past again. What else was there to do when the man ahead refused to engage her?

A small flick of the reigns brought Dancer up beside Mud, their riders locking eyes for a moment before Bren returned to looking ahead. He was in that headspace again, the one that was constantly looking for threats and ensuring they were safe. A habit she had grown to admire, but loathe in these long swathes of boredom from one destination to another.

"Must you be so boring to travel with?" She questioned, tilting her neck haughtily. The man didn't turn to face her just yet, keeping his eyes on something she hadn't even bothered to look at.

"Have to make sure we're not being tailed." his elaboration was matched with a broad gesture to the surrounding woodlands.

"Are you so worried about some bandits giving you trouble?"

Her words were painted with a vibrant overconfidence that could only come from braving as dangerous a foe as Harkon. There was a validity to it, but Bren refused to let himself be wrapped up in his own accomplishments at the cost of keeping a good head upon his shoulders. "It's not the bandits I'm worried about. There are countless vampires out there all vying to become the next ruler, the next in line to blot the sun from the sky. What better way to show their strength and remove a potential rival than by taking you out?"

That gave the woman a brief pause, her eyes lowering somewhat in recognition of the truth he spoke. She had made herself quite known for her involvement with the Dawnguard, so it would not be terribly difficult for a would be assassin to locate and remove her should they feel the need. Although they were the two most powerful beings travelling this road, all it took was a lucky shot or a surprise attack to fell Bren, possibly even herself if the right tools were involved. A sobering sense of restraint filled Serana as she nodded under her hood.

"And?"

"And what?"

An imperceptible roll of the eyes followed. "Are we being followed?" Sometimes she had to remind herself that she wasn't dealing with someone who would grovel at her feet and call her lady whenever she did so much as breathed in his direction.

"Not that I can tell."

She could hear him whisper something in the dragon tongue to himself and check their surroundings once more, perking his head up again and performing a swift check of their surroundings. She'd seen him use this power before, some kind of aura detection magic born of the dragons themselves. After one last sweep of the area, he shook his head.

"No. We should be okay for now."

The tension of the moment seemed to fade after the admittedly mild reassurance. It did help remind Serana that they were not as safe as she felt. Their journey had taken them across the most remote parts of Skyrim and through dangers unlike any that could be found on the roads and trails of the province, yet even the simplest of threats was a threat all the same. Harkon or no, there was always going to be someone who could be after the blood of a Daughter of Coldharbor.

The thought chilled her flesh.

The early morning light waned as the pair traveled, the air chilling with the sun's progression through the sky. Bren pulled his cloak over his head to keep warm and conceal himself further the nearer they got to the hold of Riften. Even with his relatively inconspicuous look, if someone in the city were to get a good look at his face even in passing they would recognize a Thane of the hold. Best not to give them the opportunity.

Thankfully one of the few people in the hold who could be trusted to keep a secret was the stablemaster. Hofgrir had to be a secretive man considering how many nefarious individuals made use of his facilities every day, so with little more than an exchange of hands and coin, Mud and Dancer were given their own stables for the night. Hofgrir also took the liberty to feed and care for the horses considering who they belonged to and the respect that the Dragonborn and his Vampiric friend deserved. Serana had learned long ago that if Bren's trust had been earned, she shouldn't need to worry about the character of such individuals.

The two now horseless riders crept along the docks on their usual route to the Thane's home in this keep. Thankfully the evening was quite quiet, fisherman and traders alike having retired for the evening or otherwise disappeared into the deep hues of night. It was a pretty straight shot from the edge of the water to the small staircase that crept up the side of the docks towards Bren's home in this hold, a quaint little abode aptly named Honeyside. They had made this rushed entrance before when making stops in and out of Castle Dawnguard. While the Dragonborn was confident his title as Thane could keep the rabble from assaulting Serana as soon as they locked eyes with her, it was unwanted attention all the same. This back door was one of the great things about this home, and a good portion of the reason why he frequented it more than some of his others.

As soon as Serana's black cloak cleared the frame of the door Bren shut it with a certain disdain, sighing softly as the familiar comfort of a quiet place with a bed and food washed over him. Iona did him a great service of keeping the home clean and stocked for whenever he happened to pass through and need supplies, and in return he always left a sizeable coin purse for her efforts. Tonight would be no different. After pulling some coin from his belt and setting it aside, Bren would get to work on bringing the hearth back to life so that they could have something warm to eat before heading to bed.

Serana was more than content with simply sprawling out on the large bed that took up a majority of the main floor, her crimson garb glowing in the growing fire light. Her glowing fire-stained eyes lazily tracked her partner as he meandered about the room, tossing his cloak on a chair and hunting down some vegetables to toss in a great black pot beside the fire. A porcelain hand tucked under her chin to better assess the scene unfolding before her as some form of soup began to take shape.

"I don't suppose you need any help with that?"

"No, I can manage."

"Good. Watching you work is making me exhausted." She wouldn't ever admit it, but horse-riding took a toll on her body, powerful and resilient as it was. She didn't have any physical signs of it, but her thighs and rear ached from sitting upon the saddle for hours on end for the past few weeks. It was more horse riding in a month of her life than she'd experienced in well over a few decades, which gave her a whole new appreciation for Bren's near constant cranky disposition. No wonder he was always such poor conversation, she was too after her loins were thoroughly tenderized.

It seemed Iona had been by recently as there was a salted cut of venison among the provisions left within the home. Bren didn't much care to wait for a stew to come together, so he haphazardly chopped up the cut and threw it into the pot with some fat to let it fry. After a few minutes the delicious smell of browning, sizzling meat filled the small home, much to the satisfaction of the cook. While Serana dozed off, he gathered a plate and placed some of the meat alongside a good half loaf of bread and wedge of cheese. When two plates had been roughly evenly given meals, he brought them both to the large centerpiece that was the bed and set one down on the side table so that he could nudge her awake with a gentle hand.

"Couldn't wait five more minutes?" he questioned haughtily, dodging the quick swipe that Serana threw in his direction in retaliation for the unwanted waking.

"Eugh. I really couldn't." Her lazy eyes trailed towards the plate of food, the realization that some form of sustenance was around causing her to sit up. Due to her vampire blood, food wasn't exactly necessary, but she could derive some amount of nourishment for it. In truth, she often found herself eating out of gratitude for Bren having considered her in the first place. Tasting the flavors of anything other than blood was just an added benefit. "Thank you m'lord."

"Of course. What kind of host lets his guest starve?"

She wanted to roll her eyes or scoff, something of dismissive nature, but found herself smiling instead. Her teeth sunk into the meat and tasted the faint traces of beast blood within the tender flesh. It was a welcome feeling. Bren always prepared meat to a certain level of rareness that she suspected was more out of courtesy than his preference. Just another thing he did without question for her benefit. When would the list stop growing?

With no other light than the small glowing flame of the hearth, it was a rather comfortable little atmosphere within Honeyside. In her youth, Serana would have considered this a romantic affair, foregoing the usual tableside date and having a modest and intimate little meal at the bedside. Now though? She wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It was difficult for her to say with any measure of certainty if she had ever had a true friend in all of her lifetime, nevermind something more. Anyone who had ever shown her kindness and trust was someone beneath her that no doubt had an obligation or ulterior motive for such actions. To say that Bren confused her was putting it lightly, yet she never felt as though there was anything to truly worry about. It was almost natural for her to put her trust in him, ever since they had first exchanged words. There was something in those eyes, in his actions, that was all so reassuring-

Bren seemed to notice her staring at him while nibbling on a bite of bread, cocking his head to the side with a suspicious expression. "Are you still with me Serana?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I was just... Studying you."

"Care to explain?"

A brief smile flashed over her features and she simply shook her head. Bren paused for a moment to see if she would offer up anything else to divulge her thought process, then shrugged and returned to what remained of his meal.

Not long after were the two cleaning their plates with the butt ends of their bread loafs, sopping up what remained of the venison's juices before setting the plates back near the hearth table. Serana could already feel the creeping fingers of sleep darkening the edges of her vision, so she made to stand up and send herself to the guest room downstairs. Bren, returning from the hearth, simply held up a hand and shook his head.

"You take the bed. I'll sleep downstairs." She got the feeling that he wanted to add 'princess' to that line somewhere, but relented so that she might accept the offer. Most days she would refuse, but tonight she was in a particularly lavish mood and the offer sounded most agreeable.

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'd hope so."

The dull thumps of her boots hitting the floor followed his words, ensuring that Serana's mind had been made up. She watched him disappear down the stairs as she settled beneath the wonderfully warm covers of the bed, removing some more articles of clothing before becoming fully set in place. She so desperately wished to return back to Castle Volkihar some time to retrieve some small clothes from her belongings so that she may rest in comfort once again, but until then she would simply have to survive by sleeping in the same clothes she rode in. At least she had more than one outfit tucked away in Dancer's saddlebags.

She didn't remember too much after that. Just that the heaviness of her eyes was beaten back by a series of dark scenes of her sleeping mind's eye. Nothing too well constructed to be memorable, just bits and pieces of terror and grief from her past. Her ritual. The moment she was locked away in the crypt. The first time she feasted on a man. The sight of Bren, mauled and barely alive. The last breaths of her father.

Her tired mind couldn't keep up with whatever her body was doing when she finally came back to some level of consciousness, arms wrapping around a body that smelled of smoke and leather and a little bit like bread. She must have wept in her dreams, but the tears had been wiped up. A sense of weightlessness shook her out of her stupor, arms clenching so tightly around the man that he actually grunted in pain.

"Ah- Sorry." she murmured, vaguely aware that she was being carried back to the the lavish bed she had been gifted for the night.

"We have to stop meeting like this." He teased, though it was laced with a honeyed tone that suggested he didn't mind much at all. The thought was almost sickeningly sweet.

Her arms released his torso as she was set down like a child too exhausted from a day of play. There was something about that caring, almost parental nature that the Dragonborn had about him that filled some gap in her heart and made her feel whole. Appreciated, wanted, perhaps even loved. She was certain that she had a particular kind of love for the man. It was far too late to be considering what that entailed.

"Stay with me." It was more of a command than the plea that she wanted it to be, but alas pride brought the worst out of her once more. It seemed that he understood her though, that damned heart of his cutting through the veil of her false contempt. The man carefully placed himself beside her in the bed that he owned, a bit less leary than the previous night. He was also far less stiff and fearful of her touch, perhaps due to her having sought him out for comfort. Oh no. She wouldn't hear the end of that one.

"Of course." he answered in a tone so soft and low that it raised the hairs on her neck. She did her best to ignore that fact. All she could do was bury her face in his chest and try to pretend she wasn't becoming hopelessly attached to the man and the comfort he brought her. Not a single person alive or dead was ever quite so warm as he was, and though she was a creature of cold flesh, she swore that night she had never been warmer.

Author's Notes: Hey guys, been trying to keep steady progress for this story by not burning myself out too fast. I realize this chapter is a little bit of a fluff/exposition heavy, but I feel it was necessary to set a bit more of the groundwork for their dynamic in the future. I plan to make the main plot a bit more obvious come the next chapter. I very much appreciate all of the comments and help I'm receiving, it is all very helpful as someone relatively new to TES lore and whatnot. I promise I'm doing what I can to learn the greater lore so I don't fudge things up too heavily.

As always, any interactions with the story is appreciated, make sure to harass me some more it is great motivation.