Chapter 10: Shadows of the Past

Serana grimaced at the bitter taste of Elenwen's terror lingering in her mouth. She spat out the dregs of it, and swiped a hand across her lips. She looked down at the Thalmor's discarded body, face frozen in a rictus of pain and horror.

'May you rot in Oblivion.' A monster like that didn't deserve conventional Altmer afterlife in Aetherius with the Eight… If the Aedra allowed that, they really were no better than Daedra.

Serana growled at the thought. She trembled with the burn of the rage in her blood, her skin prickling with the instinct to give in to the bloodlust and unleash her inner monster. Ever since reading that dossier, she'd been so close to transforming accidentally. She hadn't been so enraged in… Ever. Her lower set of fangs had never come out before. Not in her human form.

Killing Elenwen should have taken the edge off, should have banished the spectre of the monster. It hadn't.

'Don't lose control, don't lose control…'

Serana closed her eyes and stopped breathing. Ordinarily deep breaths would help calm her down, but not with so much blood spilt so close.

'I am not that monster, not any more, I won't transform…'

The rest of those Thalmor deserved to die, but the guests? From what Maven mentioned on the way to the embassy, some of them were making nice with the Thalmor out of necessity, not choice. Even Maven probably didn't deserve death, despite the fact that she'd been so very tempted to drain her dry before they'd even left Riften. Not because she smelled particularly tempting – even without Sithia around, everyone was so bland in comparison – but because the Black-Briar matriarch was the most irritating and obnoxious person she'd ever had the displeasure to meet.

If she slaughtered every Thalmor around, she'd lose herself to the bloodlust. She'd snap out of it, the only living thing in the embassy. If she could be called 'living', anyway.

She finally managed to force her fangs to retract. She had to get out of here. Before it was too late.

Serana turned to the bed, ignoring the dead occupant pinned to it, her eyes on the sketch of Sithia. She reached for it – no matter the source, it was a good likeness of the one who meant so much to her – only to stop short. Her hand was covered in blood. Vile Thalmor blood. She didn't want that on anything, least of all something of Sithia.

She covered her exposed skin with a layer of ice, let it melt and take away the blood. She quickly dried her hands off on her leggings, snatched the sketch and pocketed it. She left her own dagger buried in the headboard. It was quicker to loot Elenwen's from her cooling corpse. It shouldn't need sharpening either.

She picked up the knapsack she was 'borrowing' from the Altmer she'd just killed. She glanced inside it to check all four dossiers were still there. Esbern's. Delphine's. Ulfric Stormcloak's. Sithia's.

Serana clenched her teeth. Her fangs came far too close to unsheathing again. All of them. Time to go, before she did something she'd regret.

She shouldered the knapsack and hurried away without a backward glance at her victims. She only regretted that they didn't suffer nearly enough before the end.

Serana barely resisted the temptation to leave the way she'd arrived. If she went near any more Thalmor when this on edge…

'No. I will not be that monster. Never again.'

She headed down into the torture chamber, and unlocked the trapdoor using a key she'd found on the dead guard. She spared a glance for the dead prisoner. She did regret that, but putting him out of his misery was the best she could do for him.

Seeing him like that, slumped in defeat, held up only by the shackles bolted to the wall… The Thalmor had done that to Sithia. She'd almost given in to the bloodlust. Breaking the prisoner and the guard's necks had been all she could do. Silencing their heartbeats in an instant had made it a little easier to keep herself under control.

She opened the trapdoor and jumped down, letting it fall shut after her. She landed on an Imperial woman's corpse, emaciated body covered with wounds still wet with blood. For a torturous moment she saw Sithia lying there instead.

Serana scrambled back. She frantically dug the map out of her pocket, a shuddering sigh escaping her at the scent and sight of the fresh blood, the crimson 'x' lingering in the wilderness of Winterhold. Alive. Far from here. Hopefully safe. She reluctantly looked away, to where Riften was marked. Much as she wanted to catch up with Sithia, she couldn't delay. From what Esbern's dossier said, the Thalmor were already searching for him and his dragon expertise there. She had to find him first.

Serana hissed through her teeth. Without Sithia's touch to wake the enchantment, she had to figure out for herself what route to take. She ran a finger over solid black lines of the roads. It would probably be safest to retrace the path Maven's carriage had taken. She'd only get hopelessly lost if she tried to take a shortcut through the wilderness. If she kept herself well fed, she'd be able to run all night, every night, making far better time than if she hired a carriage.

She folded up the map and tucked it away. She'd better find her way out of this cave. She had to make the most of what remained of the night. Sunlight wouldn't bother her too much after eating so well, but it would slow her down. She'd get tired just as a mortal would.

Despite the foul air around the pathetic remains of the Thalmor's victims, Serana could feel a slight breeze. There was definitely a way out somewhere. A step forward brought her within earshot of a heartbeat. Slower and bigger than a human's. She edged closer, and—

'Ugh!'

Wonderful. As if rotting flesh wasn't already revolting enough, it was compounded by the distinctive reek of troll.

She saw it now. A frost troll, lying sprawled on the dusty floor of the cave. All three eyes were shut, and it snored softly. She crept past it. Trolls tasted horrible, as bad as they smelled. Even if that wasn't the case, the poor thing didn't deserve to die just because it was unfortunate enough to meet her on a particularly bad night.

She emerged from the cave into sweet, fresh air. Serana inhaled deeply, ridding herself of the last of the cave's stench. She stepped forward onto a snow-strewn road. Hopefully this was the road to Solitude, or she was about to get lost.

It wasn't the road to Solitude. But it didn't matter, because she managed to find her way to Dragon Bridge, after passing by a Shrine to Meridia. Serana kept her distance. As a vampire and a necromancer, she wouldn't exactly be popular with that Daedric Prince.

After feeding from a guard to keep her strength up for the day ahead, she hurried over the ancient bridge, under the carved dragon heads. No matter how many times she saw it – three times now – she marvelled that it was still standing after so long. It had already been ancient back when she was human. Not that she'd ever seen it back then, thanks to her mother almost never letting her out of her sight.

Sunrise slowed her down a lot. Her recent meal meant that the sunlight didn't sting much, but her muscles soon ached even with a mere walking pace. She had to stop regularly to give her tired legs a chance to recover.

To kill time while she rested, Serana got the map out. Mostly to reassure herself that Sithia was still alive, and to torment herself with the delicious scent of that enchanted drop of blood. Her Dragonborn had finally moved closer to Winterhold's southern border with the Pale. If she'd been delayed by a snowstorm, it must have passed.

She also reread the dossiers. Delphine's, which made Serana reluctantly respect the obnoxious Breton. She had to admire someone like that, who could survive three of the Thalmor's assassination attempts, kill so many of them, and hide from them for so long.

Ulfric Stormcloak's. The poor bastard was someone else who had been tortured by Elenwen, and was considered to be an asset by the Thalmor, if an uncooperative one. His dossier might be useful later for blackmail purposes, maybe to get him to pardon Sithia if they ever needed to visit Windhelm without being attacked on sight. Hopefully she could avoid doing that, though, as she'd feel bad about using that information against another of Elenwen's victims.

Esbern's, with the information Delphine sent her to find. That the Thalmor weren't responsible for the dragons, but they knew who might know more – this Esbern, the Blades' loremaster. Hopefully she'd find him before the Thalmor did, or it would be very difficult to rescue him. They'd surely tighten their security with Elenwen's murder, maybe even take all captives out of Skyrim.

Not Sithia's, though. That dossier was etched into her mind, and not something she ever wanted to read again. The first time had been bad enough. She swiped at her eyes, dashing away the tears before they could fall. It wouldn't do for any other travellers around to see her crying tears of blood – she couldn't rely on her invisibility if she was too upset to maintain her grasp on the concealing shadows.

The thought of her Sithia suffering like that at Elenwen's hands… Serana took a deep, ragged breath, fists clenched. She wished she'd thought to resurrect that despicable torturer and make her pay the ultimate price all over again.

As for the other revelations of that dossier… It didn't surprise her that Sithia had been an assassin. She'd had her suspicions about that ever since reading about the Dark Brotherhood. It didn't change anything, not even if Sithia was still an assassin. Except… that wasn't quite true. Serana would be disappointed – it'd mean Sithia wasn't who Serana thought she was.

But it still wouldn't stop her from caring about her Dragonborn. Serana was no hypocrite, or at least tried not to be. She'd never killed for gold, but she had for blood. Including innocents.

Unless she was completely wrong about Sithia, she also had regrets about those she'd killed. Just as Serana herself did about the blood of those innocents on her hands. Well, fangs.

What did change things was the sickening details of the torture Elenwen put Sithia through. Some of it was unclear, like exactly what the 'penultimate cut' was, but 'put in her place'… Serana hadn't needed to read the rest of Elenwen's annotation to know what that meant.

It explained a lot. Sithia's fear back in Breezehome when Serana had pinned her against the table. That was probably reacting to being trapped, and to the feeling of Serana's clothed body against her bare skin… Chances were that had triggered Sithia's nightmare about Elenwen that night.

At least the news of Elenwen's death should help with the aftermath of those dreams, although it almost certainly wouldn't banish them entirely. The scars from a year in the hands of that torturer would be etched too deeply into Sithia's psyche.

Serana dug the sketch out of her pocket, caressing Sithia's features with a finger. She'd wanted to get to know her Dragonborn better, but… Not this way. It should've been by Sithia opening up enough to tell her. Once she gave Sithia her dossier – and she would, she couldn't keep this hidden – it would change things. Probably for the worse. Maybe even ruin their friendship.

Serana folded up the sketch and tucked it away. Her legs still ached a bit, but it was time for another unpleasant walk in the sun. Anything to distract her from her miserable thoughts about what awaited her when she next saw Sithia.

Dusk brought with it the blessing of the night, and she easily reached Rorikstead, paused long enough to snack on another guard, and ran on towards Whiterun and beyond.

Four nights later she reached the Rift. It felt much longer, between her worrying about the impending mess with Sithia, and her impatience to get this quest to find Esbern over with. The sooner she did that, the sooner she'd get back to Sithia. Despite dreading it, she wanted nothing more than to see her, and not just the sketch of her.

She'd caught hints of Sithia's scent on the road over the past day, growing ever stronger. A glance at the map confirmed what she already knew: she'd cross Sithia's path before she reached Riften. The 'x' marking her spot rested in Shor's Stone, mere hours ahead. She'd reach it before dawn.

Serana cupped her chin, deep in thought. What to do… Her finger rested on the enchanted drop of Sithia's blood, the parchment shielded from the drizzle with her cloak. Sithia was tantalisingly close. Esbern was supposedly in Riften, hopefully still out of the Thalmor's clutches. Could she afford the delay?

She bit her lip – fangs safely retracted – and shook her head. She pocketed the map. She couldn't pass so close to Sithia without seeing her. Even if it meant Esbern and the Thalmor slipped through her fingers. Besides, Delphine might have a better idea about where Esbern might be hiding in Riften.

In the inn – which looked more like a house adapted for the purpose – Delphine sat by the fire, the only mortal awake in the village. Either she was a very early riser, or she was an insomniac. She slowly lowered her sword, drawn the moment Serana opened the door.

"There you are. What happened with the Thalmor?"

Serana smiled, flashing her fangs. "They'll need to find a new First Emissary and interrogator."

"Elenwen's dead? Good. What did you learn, are they behind the dragons?"

"They're not, but they have a lead to find out more." Serana reached into her pack and handed over Esbern's dossier. She'd keep the rest to herself, including Delphine's.

"If you're looking for the Dragonborn, she's still sleeping, like most people in Shor's Stone." Delphine jerked a thumb at a room on the left, a curtain draped across the doorway. She'd already flipped open the dossier, leaning close to it to read it in the firelight.

Serana didn't actually need to be pointed towards Sithia – even if she couldn't pick out that strong heartbeat no matter how many other mortals were around, she could smell her from a mile away.

She held the curtain up enough to duck under it, then let it fall closed after her.

Sithia slept restlessly, in the grip of one of the nightmares. By the look of the shadows under her eyes, her sleep must have been plagued by them even more than usual in Serana's absence.

Serana took off her damp cloak, tossing it over the chair, on top of Sithia's armour. Her Dragonborn only slept in it when she had to. It was a pity that the safety she clearly felt here didn't extend to her dreams.

"Elenwen," Sithia whimpered, on the edge of Serana's hearing. She could finally help her with that particular demon.

Serana perched on the edge of the bed and knocked Sithia's dagger out of reach. The danger of waking Sithia from a nightmare wasn't something she could safely forget. That done, she gently shook Sithia awake.

Sithia sat bolt upright with a choked cry, her eyes wild. They fixed on Serana, and slid shut, her shoulders slumping as a shuddering sigh escaped her.

"You're back." Sithia threw her arms around Serana in a tight embrace.

Serana hugged her back. A dull knife twisted in her heart at the thought that she'd soon be pushed away once Sithia saw her damn dossier.

Or even before, as Sithia soon pushed herself back, but at least kept her hands on Serana's shoulders. She looked her up and down. "And in one piece. Good. I was…" Her grip tightened. "Worried."

"Elenwen can't hurt anyone ever again. I made very sure of that."

Sithia frowned. "Wait, you mean…"

"I was thirsty and so very angry. It didn't end well for her."

Sithia's tense shoulders relaxed. She shook her head slowly, eyes unfocused, as though staring through Serana. "I wanted so much to kill her myself… I hope she suffered before that end." Sithia's voice trembled. She sniffled, swiping at her eyes.

"Not enough for what she did to you."

Sithia stiffened and inhaled sharply. Her wide eyes snapped to Serana's. "What she… How do you know about what she did to me? Elenwen brags – bragged – about that sort of thing at parties?" Her nails briefly dug into Serana's shoulders before she snatched her hands away. Serana would have preferred the physical pain over the agonising thought that Sithia would never want to touch her again.

Sithia's knuckles whitened as her fists clenched. Her heart beat faster in her agitation. "What do you know?"

Serana set the knapsack down and pulled out Sithia's dossier. She handed it over and held her breath while Sithia read through it, brows and lips drawn down into a thunderous scowl. Her eyes narrowed more with every word she read.

Sithia's hands were shaking by the time she snapped the slim volume shut. Serana flinched, almost falling off the bed, as fire leapt from Sithia's palms. The flames consumed the paper, the leather blackening and cracking. They watched the dossier burn until the ashes dropped between Sithia's fingers onto the floor.

Sithia took a ragged breath, hissing through clenched teeth. "You know. I can't…" She shook her head, face contorting into a pained grimace, the lines etched into her skin deepening. "I don't…" An incoherent snarl escaped her. She swung her legs out of bed, almost kicking Serana in the process. She tugged her boots on and stormed off, sweeping the curtain out of her way.

Her heart a leaden weight in the grip of her dismay, Serana hurried after her, reaching out. "Wait, I—"

Sithia shrugged off her hand the moment it touched her shoulder. "Don't follow me." Her voice trembled with barely suppressed rage. "Stay inside! I don't want to hurt you."

Hand still outstretched, Serana watched helplessly as Sithia stalked outside, the door slamming shut after her.

"STRUN!"

Serana clutched her aching head as the loudest Shout she'd heard yet split the air.

Thunder rumbled directly overhead, heavy rain hammering against the thatched roof. Lightning cracked again and again, the flashes of light blinding through the gaps around the door.

"Talos guard me," Delphine breathed from behind her.

Confused and fearful cries rang out. Sithia's Storm Call had woken everyone within earshot, so probably all of Skyrim.

Serana sniffed. Something was sickly sweet… burnt flesh. An icy fist closed around her heart with the realisation that she couldn't hear Sithia's heartbeat for the pounding rain.

'Sithia…' Serana rushed over to the door and wrenched it open. She gasped in relief at the sight of Sithia's sodden form sprinting through the torrential downpour to some crumpled bodies. Serana blinked. Amidst smouldering Elven armour and smoking dark robes, a man crouched, hands clasped awkwardly over his head.

Sithia reached the miraculous survivor and pulled him to his feet, dragging him to the inn and inside. A drenched elderly Nord man, his grey beard darkened with the wet.

"Esbern?" Delphine gasped. She darted forward, and cut his bound hands loose. She embraced him.

Serana shook her head. They didn't need the information she'd found at the Thalmor Embassy now. Still, it wasn't a wasted trip, not when it meant she killed Elenwen. Besides, the Thalmor might have escaped with Esbern as their prisoner if she hadn't returned with news provoking Sithia's… outburst.

"You Talos worshippers really do all know each other," Sithia rasped. She coughed, grimacing, and clutched at her throat. Golden light flickered in her hand and sank into her neck. "My Storm Call fried that Thalmor patrol. Talos must've been watching over you, old man, I think that lightning strikes everyone out in the open around me. Unless it only goes for my enemies…"

Once Delphine released him, Esbern turned to Sithia and lowered his head respectfully. "Dragonborn. My thanks for rescuing me from the clutches of the Thalmor. I dread to think what would have happened if they succeeded in dragging me to their torture chamber." He shuddered briefly, then raised his head and smiled. "To know that you really do exist… I finally have hope that we are not doomed."

"Doomed?" Delphine echoed, frowning. "What do you mean? The dragons?"

"The dragon," Esbern said. "Alduin the World-Eater. Don't you see, the prophecy has come to pass."

"What prophecy?" Sithia exchanged a weary glance with Serana at the mention of yet another prophecy to deal with.

"Allow me to dry us first, and I will share what I know." Fire danced in Esbern's hands. Serana cringed away as leapt through the air. It swirled around Sithia and then Esbern, miraculously not setting either them or their clothes alight. By the time it died away, they were both dry.

Esbern cleared his throat. "Now, the prophecy of the Dragonborn is something which I have told you of before, Delphine, although you probably do not remember it. You always paid more attention to your blademaster than your loremasters. Perhaps it is as well, or you would—"

"Esbern!" Delphine swatted at him.

"What's that? Oh, the prophecy." He cleared his throat.

"When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world,
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped,
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles,
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls,
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding,
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn."

With that last part, Serana's eyes widened. She'd heard that before, a fragment her father had come across in his obsessive search for a different prophecy.

"The end times are at hand. The World-Eater brings back his brethren. He will devour Nirn unless he is stopped." Esbern rested a hand on Sithia's shoulder. "You are our only hope, the Last Dragonborn."

"No pressure," Sithia muttered. "Exactly how am I meant to do that? Alduin's not any old dragon. I've never managed to get close enough to fight him. He has a nasty habit of perching out of reach or taking to the air. Even if I wasn't a terrible shot, arrows just bounce off his scaly hide."

Esbern patted her shoulder. "We will help you. I know of an Akaviri stronghold that may contain the knowledge you need."

"Oh, good. Well, if you don't mind, I need a bit of time alone to come to terms with this." Sithia slowly backed away until she hit the wall, and slid along it until she could duck into her room.

Serana hesitated for a heartbeat, torn between respecting Sithia's wish for isolation, and the need to make sure she was all right after all of that crushing weight was dropped on her shoulders. The weight of the world…

She left Delphine and Esbern to their muttered conversation about their Dragonborn and hurried over to Sithia's room. She pulled the curtain closed behind her.

Sat on the bed, Sithia didn't look surprised to see her, and didn't object violently to her presence either. Far from it, actually, as she beckoned her over.

"Are you all right?"

"More or less. I already knew I'm the ultimate dragon slayer. Figures that I'd have to be the one to slay the ultimate dragon." She lowered her voice. "I just really needed to get away from them and the way they were looking at me. Like I'm a weapon, not a person. That and…" She grimaced. "We need to talk."

Sithia patted the bed next to her and waited until Serana had joined her. "You know far more about me than I ever wanted anyone to know."

"I'm sor—"

Sithia laid her fingers over Serana's lips. "Don't. Apologise. I'd have done the same thing, reading that damn dossier. Besides, if you hadn't read it… Elenwen might still be alive." She sighed. "Ask whatever you want to. You must have questions after reading that. It's not something I ever wanted to talk about, but it seems the Thalmor are forcing my hand."

'Damn it.' She'd wanted to get to know her Dragonborn better, but not like this! "I won't force you to talk if you don't want to. I killed her for you, but you don't owe me anything."

"I pay my debts. Deny it all you want, but I owe you. I may have been cheated of killing her myself, but it means a lot that you did that for me."

"I'd do anything for you." Serana whispered, laying a hand over Sithia's. "I care about you. Haven't you noticed that yet?"

Sithia looked away, rubbing at the back of her neck, her cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat. "You'd kill for me, that much is clear. And, uh, I'd do the same for you." She met Serana's earnest gaze again. "Until I get the chance to do that, the least I can do is give you some answers. So, ask."

What could she bring herself to ask? Not something too painful like… 'What's the Penultimate Cut?'

Sithia winced. "Void take me, you don't pull your punches!"

'What? Oh, no…' She'd managed to think aloud. 'Fuck!'

"It's not that hard to guess. You've seen my scars. Those on my chest, anyway. My lower half is covered with them too, but I'm not about to show you right now."

"I was hoping it was something else." That meant… By the blood, most of Sithia's scars were inflicted at the same time? It must mean that the next cut would have killed her. Being brought so close to the release of death… and having it taken away. No wonder Elenwen's annotation mentioned that they all break in the end.

"Not all of them are from that torture. Just most of them. I… I'm sorry, I can't talk about this."

"I'm sorry."

"What did I say about apologising?"

"I brought it up. I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to, really!"

"Better that you ask me and not Delphine. She might well know exactly how Thalmor operate, including the definitions of their terminology. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if she were listening in right now."

Serana glanced towards the curtain. "She's talking to Esbern. I haven't met a human yet who can have a conversation while listening into another." The reunited Blades had moved on from discussing the questionable sanity of their Dragonborn to comparing notes on how best to play hide and seek with the Thalmor.

"Oh, right. Your hearing is inhumanly good. I keep forgetting about that." Sithia looked away, blushing harder. She must have remembered muttering something she thought had been private. "Ask me something else. Anything else."

"I don't have any—"

"Don't start lying to me now. You must have more questions than just about Thalmor torture methods. What about my… employment with the Dark Brotherhood. Doesn't that bother you?"

"I can't lie to you, remember?" Serana pointedly looked at the hand she'd sworn that blood oath with. "I already suspected that a bunch of Sithis worshippers were murderers."

"Assassins. Plain old murderers don't necessarily do it for money."

"You're not an assassin anymore. Are you?" Unless she was completely wrong about her, Sithia was not the same person she had been when at the mercy of the Thalmor. Something had changed her. Right?

Sithia snorted. "I think you'd have noticed if I was. That I'm not a remorseless killer now is something you can thank the Thalmor for. If not for them, I'd still happily be murdering my way through life." A mirthless smile curved her lips.

"What happened?"

"You know the Thalmor broke me. What happened after that… I guess you could say Talos put me back together. His priest did, anyway." Raw pain flickered across her face, twisting her smile into a grimace. "Talos worshippers rescued me and got their very own Thalmor killer out of it."

Sithia closed her eyes. She covered her face with her hands. Her breathing was unsteady, and her shoulders shook.

Serana tentatively laid a hand on Sithia's back. She tensed but didn't shrug Serana off.

"You're a killer. Not just of Thalmor, you have the blood of the deserving and undeserving on your hands. Innocents."

"Yes," Sithia said, her voice a broken sob.

"You regret those deaths, though. They weigh on your conscience. You don't kill innocents if you can help it. Right?"

Sithia nodded jerkily.

"Then reading that, finding out about your past… It doesn't change how I feel about you. You're… I lo—"

'I can't love her, not yet! We've only known each other for what, a month, and we've been apart for at least half as long again.'

Serana winced. It was probably embarrassingly obvious what she'd almost said. "I care about you."

Sithia lowered her hands, her eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet. She swiped a hand across them and sniffed. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, almost like she had a cold. "You really don't think less of me for my past?"

"Of course not. You think far too highly of me if you thought I would. No mortal's past, no matter how dark, can compare with mine. I might seem like a good person now – at least by vampire standards – but before I learned control…" Serana shuddered. In her mind's eye, she saw their faces, heard the echoes of their screams, and tasted the ghost of their bitter terror. The innocents she'd killed.

"Isran had it right. I was a bloodsucking fiend." Her voice trembled, but she was at least dry eyed and not about to scare Sithia with tears of blood. "I'm a Daughter of Coldharbour. I earned this gift direct from Molag Bal. Deep down inside, I'm nothing more than a being of purest evil. Don't fool yourself, you're a saint in comparison to me. That's why Aedric influences hurt me – I'm a walking piece of Oblivion."

"I don't care." Sithia gripped her shoulders. "That may be what you are, but it's not who you are." Her eyes narrowed. "Actually, on second thoughts… I do care. If you weren't a vampire, we would never have met. And Elen—" Her voice caught on the name. "Elenwen would still be alive."

Sithia's frown deepened, and she glared at Serana. "Stop looking at me like that," she snapped. "Don't you dare pity me! I'm still the same person I was before you found out that Elenwen… That she…" Sithia looked away, face burning.

Serana reached out to cup her chin, gently but firmly making her meet her eyes again. "Compassion isn't pity. Out of the two of us, I'm the one who should be ashamed about that sort of thing. I told you that I earned my vampirism direct from the Father of all of my kind. To do that, I went through a degrading ritual. You can probably guess what was involved. Do…" Serana swallowed hard. "Do you think less of me for that?"

Sithia grabbed Serana's wrist, pulling her hand away from her face. Serana's heart sank. Of course she wouldn't want Serana's tainting touch, not after learning that she'd been defiled—

Sithia's fingers slid up to intertwine with hers. Serana stared at their clasped hands. That… that wasn't the act of someone disgusted with her.

"Of you? No. Of Molag Bal? Absolutely. I'd kill Him for that if I could."

"Are you insane?" Serana hissed. "Don't threaten a powerful Daedric Lord!"

Sithia smirked. "I've badmouthed half of the Daedric Princes already. Most of them to what passes for their faces. What's one more?"

Serana closed her eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'm amazed you're still alive."

"I haven't crossed Nocturnal… yet. That might explain why my luck hasn't run out. Anyway, never mind me, what about you?" She gave Serana's hand a gentle squeeze. "That can't be the sort of thing you can ever get over."

"It was a very long time ago. I'd probably have issues if I were interested in men, but as I'm not, I don't have to face that fear. It's very different with a woman." Serana stroked her thumb over Sithia's. "That's what concerns me with you. That Elenwen… I'm sorry. I'd never have come on so strongly if I'd known."

"Don't apologise. I want you to wait because I don't do casual, not because I'm still traumatised. I've had intimate relationships since then. It was over a decade ago that Elenwen… hurt me, as you put it. It's in the past. I'm not broken anymore. You don't need to treat me like I'm fragile."

Serana raised an eyebrow. Even without the fact that Sithia still felt ashamed of what Elenwen did to her, she had those recurring nightmares about her torturer. That proved she was still deeply hurt. Maybe even permanently damaged. Whatever the case, Serana wouldn't pin her against anything again if she could help it. She hadn't imagined that flicker of fear back in Breezehome, after all.

Sithia growled. "Oh, fuck off! Yes, I still have nightmares about it, but I don't let myself think about it in my waking hours if I can help it." Her lip curled. "I'm not fragile! Maybe you need reminding that I'm angry, not broken."

"What do you mean?" Serana's eyes slipped to the curve of Sithia's neck, to the flickering of the heartbeat pumping that indomitable dragon blood.

"Feed on me, my stupid vampire."

AN: I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It took far longer than I hoped it would. The next chapter should be coming sooner if all goes well.

In game, there's no inn in Shor's Stone. But as I'm expanding the size of Skyrim with travel times, I might as well put an inn where there isn't one too. The other option for where Serana would catch up with Sithia was Riften, and it's better for innocent bystanders that our grumpy Dragonborn wasn't in a city when she had her little tantrum.

Serana is about to get lucky, at least when it comes to her long awaited willing meal.

Coming up next: An intimate feeding session, and the reading of Serana's Elder Scroll.

Also, thanks to my lovely reviewers. I'm especially overwhelmed by the response to the previous chapter, and the stunning fact that I have almost 100 reviews already. You're all awesome, and I hope you already knew that. Thanks to my silent readers too, for the follows and/or faves. It means a lot that you keep coming back for more, as my story stats reveal. Please do review, I don't bite unless asked nicely.

If you happen to be in the mood for a smoking hot Serana/F!DB femslash one-shot, which definitely earns its M rating, get yourself over to Chapter 5 of slvrbld's fic Smoliin! The link can be easily found among my favourite stories on my profile. She wrote it for me as a surprise Christmas pressie, and it's pretty much my best surprise of 2013. Thank you Silver!