Chapter 3: Home Sweet Castle

"IIZ!"

The Jarl toppled over, encased in ice. Sithia stalked past him, the crowd scattering like spooked rabbits to allow her through. They clustered back together, staring from their frozen Jarl to the infuriated Dragonborn storming away towards their hometown.

Serana knelt down beside the old man, forcing her fingers through the ice. Much as he deserved what he got, it wouldn't help Sithia at all to accidentally kill the Jarl of the Pale. He gasped for air once Serana had broken through enough of it.

Watching his face contort, undoubtedly about to erupt in humiliated rage, Serana concentrated. She hoped there were no mages in the crowd, or someone might feel what she was doing.

"I'm disappointed, my Jarl. I'd heard so much about you, the most upstanding Nord in Skyrim, and this is how you treat the chosen one of Akatosh?"

The Jarl's face went slack for a moment as the illusion magic behind her voice ensnared him. She held her breath, hoping that she hadn't overdone it. It would be a little obvious if the most powerful man in the Hold started following her around begging to serve her every whim.

"I… You're right, you're right, I'm terribly sorry. We owe her so much. I must apologise." He scrambled up, the last of the ice cracking away. He stumbled after Sithia. "Dragonborn! I am sorry."

Sithia halted. She stood rigid, fists clenched at her side.

"You have saved my home – our home – from ruin. Anything we can give you, anything at all, name it, and we will. Within reason. I am honoured to name you Thane of the Pale."

Serana blinked. Sithia's reaction to that highest of honours for a commoner was to swear viciously. Too quietly for the Jarl or anyone other than a vampire – or maybe a werewolf – to hear.

Sithia turned and nodded stiffly. "Thank you, my Jarl. All I need is a new sword, a bed for the night – beds for the night, rather – food, and transport to Solitude and beyond."

She left off the cure disease potion. Serana would have to remind her about that in private, unless Sithia had intentionally not mentioned it because she didn't want to draw attention to the idea of vampirism.

"Rustleif, Thoring, Harlaug! Do whatever the Dragonborn asks. I am sure she will reimburse you for your help."

Anything except pay for what the damn Dragonborn needed, it seemed. At least there was an entire dragon skeleton that Sithia could lay claim to. Pity they had no idea there would be a dragon here, as that would have saved her from lugging around the bones and scales all the way from Dimhollow. At least it meant she didn't have to go back to collect them.

"Drop by the Windpeak Inn, and I will provide hearty food, hot water and warm beds for you both. On the house." At least the innkeeper, a red-haired Nord, was suitably grateful.

"Follow me, Dragonborn, my finest sword is yours." It sounded like the blacksmith was equally grateful too, unless he meant it'd be hers after she paid for it.

"Come see me when you're ready to leave, ladies. My boat is moored over there." The ferryman pointed across the bay, to where the only rowboat around was rocking in the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. Sithia probably couldn't make it out. Serana very soon wouldn't be able to either, as the sun was cresting over the rocky hills to the east.

They followed the blacksmith to his forge, his snow white hair catching the light of the sun so badly that Serana couldn't bear to look at him. She looked away, noticing the minimal damage to the buildings, although several showed signs of something big perching on them. Including the inn. No wonder the innkeeper was so grateful. The dragon must have been about to tear the place down when it felt Sithia's approach.

"Rustleif, I hope you're going to do what I'm thinking." The Redguard who'd caught up with them looped her arm through the blacksmith's. His wife, judging by their matching gold rings. More than that, his pregnant wife – Serana could hear that little heartbeat within her.

"Of course. We're doing well enough to be able to afford to give a sword away to someone who really deserves it. Like you, Dragonborn. In fact, take everything you need, Skyrim owes you a great deal."

"At least take a bone and a scale from that dragon!"

"I am honoured, Dragonborn, but I refuse to let you pay when my countrymen owe you so much more."

The Redguard kissed her husband's cheek and disappeared inside their house, murmuring her thanks to Sithia on the way past.

"I've already been made a Thane twice over now, and got a free house in Whiterun out of it!"

Serana leaned close. "Don't argue too much, we might need those bones and scales to pay for a boat ride to my home." If not for that damn cowl, her breath would be brushing against Sithia's skin. That enchanted leather robbed her of what would undoubtedly be an interesting reaction.

"Ferrymen never charge more than fifty septims, I've got that much to spare."

"They're going to ask for a lot more to go anywhere near my home. It's not only twice as far as Solitude, it's where trespassers don't return from."

"Then we might have to walk from Solitude. I doubt the ferryman will accept payment in heavy bones and scales, no matter how valuable they are."

"We could buy a horse." Hopefully Serana would be able to enthral it if she had to. She'd never tried with animals, and living ones tended to object violently to her.

"In my experience they die within an hour. Usually horribly."

"A horse could get us a good bit of the way in that hour."

"It'd be a very expensive hour! Even if I had the gold, I'm tired of being the reason horses die. Maybe a carriage driver would go out of his way if bribed enough…"

The blacksmith cleared his throat. "I couldn't help but overhear, but if Harlaug is a true Nord, he should go out of his way to help you. For free, although you might need to shame him into it. He's a stubborn bastard, but a prideful one."

"Thanks, but I'd prefer to avoid that. He needs to earn a living just as you do, so I'll make sure you get a bone and scale."

That probably meant Sithia wouldn't let her enthral the ferryman into taking them all the way to her home. It'd be worth a try, though.

"This is my best sword. Not my own work, I'm afraid. This is beyond me." The blacksmith held out a glass sword, the beautiful shimmering green length almost as long as Sithia was tall.

Predictably, Sithia's brows were drawn down into a scowl. "Your stock has something to be desired. I've never handled a greatsword before. I don't have time to learn, not when there might be a dragon to slay tomorrow."

"This is Dawnstar, Dragonborn. The only place more remote is Winterhold, and they haven't had a blacksmith for a very long time."

Serana frowned. What did he mean by that? She knew Winterhold as a thriving city, the last port before Morrowind for the sailors who didn't care to go inland to Windhelm. It had been her home during her apprenticeship at the College. She'd loved it as much as she hated the gilded cage of her parental home. She looked up at the crumbling Tower of Dawn and swallowed hard. Would she find Winterhold just as crumbly?

"It's iron and steel I work with, you're lucky I have anything stronger. If you can't handle the greatsword, I forge fine steel swords."

"It was a Skyforge steel sword that didn't survive slaying that dragon."

Strictly speaking that wasn't true, but the blacksmith was already all but worshipping the ground Sithia stood on. If he knew she'd slain two dragons in as many days, he'd be kissing her boots. Or maybe even proposing to her. Despite his pretty and pregnant wife, he kept eyeing Sithia's chest. Wait, not her breasts, but the amulet resting just above them. Serana's eyes flinched away from it, no wonder she hadn't noticed it until now. Was that an Amulet of Mara? Maybe the blacksmith was just innocently wondering who the lucky bastard was that would marry the Dragonborn. Serana made a mental note to ask her about that, when the time seemed right.

"Tell you what, take two of my finest steel swords. That should keep you going until you reach Solitude even if you slay a dragon a day."

Serana watched Sithia adjust her new swords, sheathed side by side on her right hip. Her gaze inevitably slipped to linger on Sithia's curvy backside before she managed to drag her eyes up to head level. Her fingers itched with the urge to pull that damn cowl down. It was something she increasingly suffered from whenever she saw it. She needed a distraction or she really would try to steal it.

"Do you want me to go back to the dragon and collect what I can?"

"Not yet. It's just as well you dropped what you had, as it would've drawn the wrong sort of attention for you to be carrying so much more than any mortal should manage. We should go before talking to the ferryman to get as much as I'd be able to carry, which shouldn't raise eyebrows. I should've thought of that earlier. Sorry."

"Stupid Dragonborn," Serana breathed. Fortunately Sithia didn't hear her, or chose to ignore it. Serana suspected it was the former, as Sithia's gaze was fixed on the inn ahead.

"Welcome to the Windpeak Inn, Dragonborn. Karita, play something in her honour while I finish getting the food ready."

The pretty young redhead in revealing clothing – the innkeeper's daughter judging by their scents – started to tap out a rhythm on her drums. Almost in time with Sithia's heartbeat, come to think of it.

"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.
With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes."

As the song continued, everyone in the town seemed to come out of the woodwork, clapping, cheering and singing along. Sithia sat down at the closest bench. Her head met the wood with a quiet thunk, and she groaned. No one else seemed to notice, all eyes on the bard. Serana sat down next to her and patted her on the back. Poor Dragonborn. If all of Skyrim knew this song, no wonder everyone forgot her name.

"It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes.
Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes.
For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows.
You'll know, You'll know the Dragonborn's come."

Serana was humming along by the end of it. It was a catchy tune. Sithia sat up and gave her a filthy look. It was impressive that a mortal actually heard a hum despite that racket.

The innkeeper returned bearing a two bowls of stew balanced on one arm, and two bottles of mead clutched in the other hand.

"Thanks, but keep that mead for yourself. Got any milk?"

There was a moment of shocked silence. Serana could almost hear their jaws dropping. Towards the back of the crowd, someone muttered: "The Dragonborn, a milk-drinker?" He yelped as someone elbowed or kicked him. Or both, there were at least two impacts Serana heard.

"I… Yes, Dragonborn. One moment."

The bemused innkeeper set down a jug of milk. "You don't care for mead?"

"I avoid all alcohol after an incident with drugged wine. Milk is far more difficult to taint." Sithia tugged her mask down and tucked in. Serana joined her, wishing that it was blood she was swallowing.

"Maybe milk would actually help us… You see, we all suffer from nightmares every night. The same nightmare. But don't worry, you'll both be fine. Travellers don't seem to get them." That explained why everyone looked so tired, dark shadows under their bloodshot eyes. It also might explain the Jarl's attitude, but Serana suspected that might be giving him too much credit.

"I have plenty of my own," Sithia murmured. Serana looked sharply at her. If Sithia had regular nightmares, she must be overdue for one, as she hadn't had one on the road to Dawnstar. What memories could haunt her dreams? She wanted to ask, but Sithia had spoken quietly enough that she hadn't intended it to be heard.

"Excuse me, Dragonborn." An old woman sat down on the other side of Sithia.

"What is it?"

"My name is Frida. I'm the apothecary. I'd like to pay you as much as I can spare for the remains of that dragon." She set down five bulging coin purses. "Five hundred gold for the head of that dragon."

"Deal." Sithia scooped the coin purses into her knapsack. "Will you need help to collect the skull?"

"Don't worry about me, I can rope my customers into helping me. Especially the ones who want their special tonic to keep coming. Powdered dragon bone should give it quite the kick."

Serana snorted and glanced around the crowd still filling the inn. Every man present was trying not to look interested in what the apothecary had just said.

'Wait. By the blood, what is that?' Serana stared. It was an elf, but like no elf she'd ever seen, dressed in hooded robes. His skin was as grey as an Altmer's was gold, and his eyes were blood red.

"Sithia, what is that elf?" she hissed, for Sithia's ears alone. She couldn't risk attracting any more attention. It was probably already obvious that she'd never seen an elf like that before.

Sithia turned to look. "A Dark Elf. Dunmer, as they prefer. They were once the Chimer. I hear they were cursed into looking like that by Azura. Something about betraying and murdering her favourite champion."

Well, that was an object lesson in why it was a pretty bad idea to anger a Daedric Prince, even one who wasn't considered particularly malevolent.

"Looks like he's a priest. I'd better have a quiet word with him about you know what."

Serana stayed where she was while Sithia wandered over to the Dunmer. She could bear the presence of priests when they were away from their temples or shrines, but he might well realise what she was and what she carried, hidden under Sithia's cloak.

"My daughter, what can this humble priest of Mara do for you?" The Dunmer had a gravelly voice. Had Azura cursed that too?

"Just a blessing. With all the dragons I come across, my restoration skills need every boost I can get."

The Dunmer laid a grey skinned hand on Sithia's head. "Mara bless you, child." Serana flinched as the priest bestowed his Divine's blessing, purging the vampiric infection from Sithia. That was almost as bad as being too close to a shrine. At least the burning sensation faded away with the warm golden light.

As Sithia turned away, the priest opened his mouth. He closed it again, grimacing. He muttered to himself, too quietly for anyone else to catch except Serana: "No, that would be wrong. She's already given enough to the people of Dawnstar. I cannot ask that of her. Not now. After she's rested, maybe."

She'd have to make sure they left before this Dunmer could corner Sithia in the morning. Whatever he wanted to ask, it would be something that would delay their journey. Whatever it was would have to wait. It couldn't be that urgent or he'd ask Sithia right now.

"Ladies, the washbasins are ready. Those rooms are yours for the rest of the day, and for the night." He pointed at the adjoining doorways across the hall. They lacked doors, but seemed to have curtains for what passed for privacy here.

"Thank you." Sithia turned to her, adding, "See you in a while." With that Sithia went into the room on the right, drawing the curtain behind her. As soon as those enchanted boots were off, Serana could hear the rest of that leather armour being removed and dropped to the floor. Then the splash of water.

Serana's mouth went dry – well, drier – imagining that lithe body naked and wet. Right. Time to subject Sithia to this tension. At least there was no need to remain out here to make sure no one peeked – with so many people around, including a priest, they wouldn't dare.

"Thank you," Serana said to the innkeeper, speaking loudly enough that Sithia should overhear. "If there's one drawback to my garments, it's that the dust of travel gets in places I'd rather it didn't."

The innkeeper's eyes dropped down to her exposed cleavage. He couldn't help himself, poor man. "You're welcome," he choked, his cheeks redder than his hair.

She walked into the room on the left, a satisfied smile curving her lips at the sudden silence from the room on the other side of the dividing wall. Silence except for unsteady breathing and a heart beating a little faster than normal. It was tempting to climb up that timber wall to peek over the top of it, but it'd be far more satisfying to get that delectable morsel to reveal herself of her own free will. Soon. Not now, but soon.

Spending the rest of the day reading about this most recent Oblivion Crisis was interesting, but the proximity to Sithia was distracting. Especially when Serana's eyes kept being drawn to those tantalising glimpses of silvery white scars disappearing under Sithia's shirt. She hadn't put her armour back on after washing off the dust and dirt of travel, instead dressing in casual clothes. That damn cowl was finally removed for more than just a few minutes!

Her armour was still within reach though, kept very close at hand as Sithia was making some small repairs to it, stitching together small cuts and tears with enchanted thread. Just as tough as the leather with a matching enchantment, Sithia had told her.

"Not stronger?"

"No, or the leather would split instead, which wouldn't exactly be ideal for armour."

Part of the problem with the book was that it included the fact that the Third Era had lasted over four hundred years, and that they were now in the Fourth Era. That made her wonder how long the rest of the First Era had lasted, and the entire Second Era. Just how much had she missed? She'd slept for centuries if not millennia.

It was also worrying to read about the fate of the last Dragonborns before Sithia – they all suffered violent deaths, and the last three not including this heroic Martin were assassinated. Was that Sithia's fate?

"Sithia?"

"Hmm?" Sithia glanced up at her. "What?"

"You said it had been two hundred years since all this happened?" Serana tapped the book.

"Something like that. It's about the two hundredth year of the Fourth Era. Maybe the two hundred and first. Or second, by now. Don't ask what month or day of the week it is. I don't know for sure, and I don't care."

"How can you not care? What about your birthday?"

"I don't know the day, just that it was sometime during Evening Star."

"The Thief?" Serana hoped she'd managed to mask what she was really feeling, that she sounded surprised rather than hurt.

"Yes, what of it?"

"I…" Damn it. Those born under the Thief were luckier than others, but that luck eventually ran out. Sithia was already in her prime, and a Thief tended to die young. She really, really didn't like the thought of Sithia's death, especially not when it might be all too soon. "I'm technically a Thief too, it's when I became a vampire." Molag Bal's Summoning Day being what it was…

She really needed a distraction from these disturbing thoughts. Serana let the book fall shut, a finger keeping her place. "What was this incident you mentioned with the drugged wine?"

"Ever woken up naked in the dark, dank hold of a slaving ship bound for Black Marsh? I don't recommend it." Sithia paused, rethreading her needle. She smirked. "That Argonian gang certainly wouldn't, if any had lived to tell the tale."

"When was this?"

"Let me think…" It took a few stitches for her to answer. "About fifteen years ago, now."

"Fifteen… You were fifteen? A little young to be drinking, weren't you? Whatever did your mother say?"

Sithia's lips thinned. "Nothing."

"She didn't find out?"

"Didn't know or didn't care. Pick one," she spat bitterly. "I suspect she didn't care. She's the reason I have no idea what day I was born on. Rasha was furious, though."

"Rasha?" She'd mentioned that name once before, back in Dimhollow.

"The Khajiit who raised me. Closest thing I had to a father figure."

"At least you know he cares, then."

Sithia's finger slipped. She hissed and yanked the needle out of her finger.

Serana's eyes flicked between the bloodied needle and the tiny wound. She licked her lips. So very tempting to ask if she could have another little taste of that delicious blood…

Sithia sucked her finger into her mouth. Serana whimpered. To be that finger… Wait. What? No, to have that bloodied finger between her own lips.

A flicker of healing magic later, and the wound was gone by the time Sithia's finger slipped from her lips.

"Let's leave the past in the past for now, shall we?"

Serana nodded, suppressing the urge to ask after this Khajiit and Sithia's apparently uncaring mother. She could understand not wanting to talk about things. She just hoped those things Sithia would rather not talk about weren't as mentally scarring as her own.

That night, in their separate rooms, Serana could hear Sithia sleeping, her heartbeat steady and breathing slow. Then her heart was suddenly racing, her breathing ragged, and Serana could hear her tossing and turning. Nightmare?

"No…" Sithia cried out, her voice strangled with fear and rage, and slurred with sleep. "Mother, don't—No! NIID!" Her lapse into Dovahzul was accompanied by her Thu'um. Serana could hear startled voices. The last thing Sithia would want was to wake up to fearful and gawping idiots.

Serana jumped up, catching hold of the top of the dividing wall. She hauled herself up and dropped down the other side. Time to wake up her Dragonborn before anyone else could intrude.

All things considered, it was just as well that she did, because Sithia reacted badly.

One moment her hand was gently shaking Sithia's shoulder, the next she was on the floor, seeing stars from the sudden jarring impact. Sithia straddled her, eyes wild. Her dagger glanced off the silver collar. Serana hissed as the blade cut into the flesh under her jaw, drawing blood.

Sithia froze, eyes wide, face a mask of horror in the flickering candlelight. She pulled the dagger away, dropped it, and brought her shaking hands down, golden light spilling from them. It wouldn't take, curving away from Serana's deathly pale skin.

"Serana—"

"It's fine." Her ancient blood kicked in with the blessing of the night, sealing the wound and leaving her skin unmarked.

"Void take me, I'm so sorry."

"Are you all right?"

Sithia shook her head. "I think I'm the one who should be asking that." She scrambled off Serana and perched on the edge of her bed.

Serana took the offered hand and pulled herself up to sit next to her, close enough for their thighs to touch. "It's fine, really. I should've thought to make sure your dagger was out of reach." A flick of her fingers and a touch of magic called said dagger to her hand. She eyed the blood coating the Ebony. Her own blood. "I've tasted yours. Care to taste mine? If you've ever tasted a Daedra heart, my blood has a similar kick to it, except even more so."

"I'm not a vampire," Sithia snapped. Yet despite the vehement denial, she didn't take her eyes off her bloodied dagger. Oh yes, she'd definitely tasted Daedric flesh, or she wouldn't look quite so hungry and wary at the same time. If those hearts weren't so expensive and rare, they'd be a far bigger problem than skooma.

"No, but you are curious. Aren't you?"

Sithia raised her eyes to meet Serana's gaze. She took her dagger back and rammed it into the furs covering the bed. When she yanked it back out, the blade was wiped clean. She set the dagger down on the bedside table and looked back at Serana, her lips set in a grim line. "If I did everything I wanted to, Tamriel would be in peril."

Serana fingered the blood left on her skin under her jaw, tilting her head to expose it to Sithia. "Sure I can't tempt you?"

A sound not unlike a whimper escaped Sithia.

Serana took pity on her and crossed over to the washbasin to remove the temptation.

Sithia sighed. Was that in relief or disappointment? Tempting as it was to ask, Serana had toyed with her pet Dragonborn enough for the night.

"Sleep. Unless you want to talk about whatever your nightmare was?" Maybe this way she'd find out a little more about Sithia's past…

Sithia shuddered. "No." She swung her legs up onto the bed and lay back. She reached for the furs kicked to the bottom of the bed. Serana beat her to them and threw them over her. "Thanks."

Well, so much for learning more about her Dragonborn. Another time. The amount Sithia had already opened up to her was promising.

Awkward silence descended, not remotely alleviated by Sithia's rapid heartbeats.

"Do you want me to leave?"

No response, not even eye contact. Damn it. She'd embarrassed Sithia too much. Serana looked up the dividing wall. She'd better go back over it, or she might attract unwanted attention.

Sithia's hand caught her wrist. "No. You can stay. Provided that chair is comfy enough for you, that is."

Serana swallowed the urge to say something about the bed looking far cosier. That would be coming on far too strongly for the poor mortal. She sat down and blew out the candle.

"…Have I mentioned how weird it is that your eyes glow in the dark?"

Serana took the hint and closed her eyes. "Go to sleep, Sithia."

The ferryman was every bit as stubborn as the blacksmith had warned.

"The island with the ruined castle? Don't you know that place is cursed? I'll take you as far as I can, but I'm not hanging around and it'll cost you extra. Five hundred gold."

Serana leaned close to speak to Sithia alone. "I could, you know…"

"Enthral him?" Sithia muttered back. "Tempting, but no. We are asking him to go out of his way, and to a place that quite rightly terrifies him." She turned back to the ferryman. "Three hundred gold."

"Four hundred, and that's my last offer, and only because you killed that dragon."

"Deal." Sithia handed him four of the bulging coin purses.

The ferryman's stubbornness didn't end there. He refused Serana's offer to enchant the oars. "No magic on my boat! 'Sides, got to earn my gold. You can row while I sleep if you're in such a rush that you don't want to stop overnight, but no magic!"

They rowed non-stop. Serana ignored the ferryman and enchanted the oars whenever he slept. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him…

Sithia tried to stay awake at night to keep her company, but inevitably ended up snoring in the bottom of the boat, her head cushioned on Serana's lap. A blood oath had never been more tested. Serana tried to take the edge off the temptation by feeding from the ferryman in his sleep, but it only made her long all the more for the source of richest blood right next to her. Right on her lap, when Sithia was sleeping too.

Sithia only had a nightmare once, and Serana woke her up as soon as her heart started racing. If she ended up Shouting in her sleep, she might have broken a hole in the hull or capsized them. A dip in the Sea of Ghosts wouldn't have hurt Serana, but it might have endangered the ferryman, with only a Nord's resistance to cold, and certainly would not have been good for Sithia, even with her armour at least as resistant as the ferryman's skin – it couldn't help her if freezing cold water got between her and the enchanted leather, after all.

It was a relief and a disappointment when they reached their destination five days later – there would be no reason for Sithia to use her as a pillow now. The uncharacteristically fine weather held, with no delays from storms, nor any snow, nor even rain. Just as well, as there was no cabin on the small boat.

The ferryman started rowing away the moment their feet touched the muddy shore. He'd either been holding back, or he could row a lot faster with the boat unladen, because he soon disappeared into the mist.

The jetty her father had ordered built was still around, but half of it had fallen into the sea, and the remainder was rotting. The rowboat moored beside it was in better shape, fortunately. Serana started off rowing, then persuaded the oars to continue by themselves. They glowed purple, and would remain so until the spell ended. Back in the ferryman's boat, she'd kept a careful ear open for the telltale signs of him waking up so she could end the spell, leaving him blissfully unaware.

After an hour the enchantment started to fade, but by then the castle was looming out of the mist, and the shore of the island was within sight.

"You didn't mention the part where you live in a castle, Princess."

Serana winced and turned to look at Sithia. Her attempt at a glare was probably far too plaintive. "Please don't call me that. I don't care to be called 'Lady Serana' either. 'Princess' is even worse."

"All right… Princess." Sithia was smirking. Serana didn't need to see her mouth to know. "Seriously, Serana, you could have mentioned the castle when you said not all vampires are cave dwellers."

"I know, I just didn't want you to think I was some damsel in distress. Bad enough that I had to be freed without seeming that privileged and helpless."

"Don't worry, helpless is one thing you're not. You needed a guide, not a protector, except from that first dragon and sometimes yourself, stupid vampire. Besides, if you really did belong in a story like that, you'd have needed kissing to wake you up." Sithia's gaze dropped down to her lips.

Serana smiled. Irresistible. "I'd definitely have preferred that to waking up at swordpoint. I don't suppose we can start over?"

Sithia's eyes widened. She briefly lifted her eyes to meet Serana's before looking away, like a deer with a hunter. What little skin was visible was flushing. "…You just want me to take my cowl off."

"Foiled," Serana muttered. She'd get that kiss. Soon. Then she'd easily get that willing meal. Just a little persuasion, and Sithia would be begging her to feed.

The boat ran aground, the oars shuddering as the spell faded.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet… castle." Serana tied the boat to the jetty under the shadow of the watchtower. The harsh cries of bone hawks split the oppressively still air. She looked up the bridge stretching up to the castle and started walking towards it. Hopefully her mother was home, but if she was, she'd be so furious to see Serana when she clearly didn't think the situation was resolved. If her father was there instead… Well. She'd find out if he'd missed her at all, if he'd realised what his obsession had cost him. If he regretted it. If he wanted his family back. If—

Sithia slipped ahead of her and stood in her way, arms folded, eyes cold and hard. "Before we head up there, let's hear it. What's the deal with you and your Scroll?"

AN: Sithia is not going to be a happy Dragonborn when she hears what Serana has to say, is she?

Coming up next: the truth about the Elder Scroll and her father's obsession. Provided Sithia doesn't object violently, try to kill her and take the Scroll, or knock her out and row them both back to Skyrim, Serana will get to see her father at last.