You know where the Disclaimer is. On with the show!

. . . . .

_\|/_

Chapter 5:

Wary In Whiterun

. . . . .

. . . . .
Early Morning, 28
th First Seed, 4E201
Skyrim, Whiterun City
. . . . .

The previous evening, I'd spotted the keep of Whiterun from across the rolling plains, a spire of white-gold amidst the greens and browns marking my destination; behind it, the Throat of the World seemed to spear the very sky, a bank of clouds skirting its middle while its peak shone yellow in the setting sun.

We camped in a copse of stunted trees for the night, aurora dancing amidst a blanket of stars in the clear night, the moons Masser and Secunda steadily making their rounds across the sky. Still, we only got a few hours' sleep; a roaring dragon in the west had my master rushing us in the direction of the city. "Falmer and bandits are one thing; and I'm not about to hare off to fight dragons with you in tow," he'd said as we walked briskly through the night.

I wasn't about to disagree; I just wanted a bath and a decent night's sleep. As decent as I could get, anyway; I woke twice in those early hours, plagued by nightmares of pale flesh, white fur, and gurgling rattles.

So it was that we arrived at the gates as the rising sun turned the sky pink; I was weary to my very bones, praying to whatever god who'd listen that there was a hot bath somewhere in this place.

It was a lovely city, though; its walls all strong grey stone, worn from time and centuries of strife. Even so, the battlements were still in place, the curtain walls rising over twenty feet on the outer wall with signs of recent repair, sometime in the past century, the inner walls rising even higher, the huge keep of Dragonsreach dominating the skyline. Wooden outbuildings dotted the winding barbican from the entryway to the city gatehouse, manned by a score of yellow clad guardsmen; there were also what looked like huge wooden crossbows mounted every thirty feet or so, five that I could see in the barbican and more on the curtain wall. Drevas explained that they'd been constructed by the local blacksmiths and carpenters to drive off dragons; given that each bolt was twice my height, the lack of dragons was perfectly understandable.

As we approached the entryway, I took a look around; farms and windmills dominated the southern plains about the city. I noticed people leaving houses and stretching, while others were already tending the fields. A mountain range, skirted with another evergreen forest, acted as a backdrop for the peaceful scene; in a way, it was even more surreal than the Elder Scroll chamber had been.

"Thanks, Scales," I turned to Drevas, who was addressing an attentive clannfear, "Go on, now; I'm sure the wolf population has missed you terribly," he smiled at his own joke while Scales huffed and nudged his hand before trotting over to me.

I scratched him behind his fringe, saying a quiet "Thanks," before he barked, changed the color of his hide to green, and moved briskly away toward the mountain forests.

"He'll be fine," said Drevas, walking up beside me, "Irileth doesn't want him inside the city, afraid he might injure someone important I suppose, but he can take care of himself." He clapped me on the back before turning to the city, "I won't be taking him with me, either, but if you leave the city and want some extra protection, just whistle and he'll come."

I followed, responding with a nod and whispered "Okay."

The guards in the barbican were nice, calling out greetings to their returning Thane and wishing us good morning as we traversed the curving path; for some reason, though, even though I knew I was safe, I couldn't completely relax. I kept my hand on my wand case, looking at the guards, watching where their hands were, examining their weapons, searching for threats; my master noticed, as we crossed a drawbridge, and told me to relax; "No one is going to attack either of us here," he said in his quiet rasp, "So ease up; people will think you're an assassin or something, acting like that."

I hung my head, feeling ashamed and angry with myself, "Sorry, master." With what felt like a tremendous effort, I let my wand hand hang by my side, focusing on my breathing and feeling a little tenseness leave my shoulders. I kept my head down, though, as we entered the city, only looking up when Drevas pointed out the smithy and barracks near the gatehouse, and the market at the end of the road we were walking on. A few more people bid Drevas a good morning as we approached a decent-sized house; I could feel their eyes on me, even though I kept my gaze on the ground, hood hiding most of my face, but none of them spoke to or of me. 'No one here knows me,' I thought miserably, 'and Drevas will be leaving soon, so who will I talk to about my nightmares?'

Walking up the steps behind Drevas, I felt all the more alone for it.

. . . . .
Whiterun City, Breezehome
. . . . .

'Where is he?' Lydia thought as she went about her morning routine, ignoring the vampire reading by the fire.

When her Thane had turned up two months ago with this vampire in tow, she'd thought the old elf had finally gone round the twist; Daedra and convoluted plots and (shudder) Elder Scrolls. Give her a nice, normal bandit raid any day. Even a pleasant sojourn through a draugr-infested Nordic barrow would be preferable to whatever insanity her Thane had gotten himself into. As if dragons weren't bad enough, hmph.

So Lydia decided to stay out of it; her Thane may be old, but he was also a battle-hardened veteran. He'd be fine; the crackdown had proved to her that he could handle himself in almost any situation, plus, he'd brought Scales with him; and besides, someone needed to keep an eye on the house, answer letters (or burn them), and liaise with the people of Whiterun. So she'd have a quiet few weeks to herself.

That she had the place to herself in case she needed some 'bed-warming' after a night at the tavern was just a bonus, not that she would ever admit it.

But then, the vampire had shown up one night, on the eve of the 23rd of First Seed; and hadn't that been a fright, waking up for a trip to the loo to find the bloodsucker relaxing by the fire with Words and Philosophy in one hand and a goblet of something in the other, smiling innocently at her and greeting her warmly as if it was her house. Once Lydia calmed her frightened heart, the vampire (who was apparently called Serana) had explained that her Thane had bid her wait in Morthal as he followed up on a lead with the College of Winterhold; Lydia could see the reasoning, those mages were unlikely to take the presence of a vampire well.

"Well, why are you here?" Lydia had asked snappishly. This Serana had merely tilted her head and smiled (close-lipped, thank the Nine).

"He told me that, if he wasn't there by the 22nd, to come here and wait for him. I'm very sorry for not informing you in advance; you see, I thought he'd sent word of his plans," the creature replied with perfect politeness, which just pissed Lydia off, "If you're put off by my presence…well, just ignore me. I won't be a bother, and I'm sure Drevas will be here shortly."

Once the Housecarl had staved off the coming annoying-Thane-incurred-migraine, she asked the vampire if her Thane had given any other instructions.

To which Serana looked up from her book with a, "Hmm?" and an "Oh, well, he said that if he's not back by the 30th, we're to go to the Dwemer ruin of Alftand and try to find him. Or what's left of him, as he's probably dead," and went back to her book like nothing was wrong at all, while Lydia finally gave into her migraine.

She'd also gotten very drunk, mostly because if her Thane died she'd have to go back to scrubbing the floors of Dragonsreach, which she really didn't want to do; the Jarl's children were simply awful.

What had followed amounted to five days of an exercise in patience, for Lydia at least; the vampire had mostly kept to herself and was proven to be very proper, excepting her questionable taste in literature. Like the one time, when she'd come home from the tavern with her 'favorite ride', and the bloody creature was sitting on the floor eating crackers and cheese, no doubt getting crumbs all over the carpet, wearing a very revealing tunic, and reading, of all things, The Doors of Oblivion! She could have strangled the fiendish creature; it didn't help that her 'ride' had made himself scarce, and had been avoiding her ever since!

So it was a cold five days for Lydia.

And that would have been fine, if not for the fact that she still had duties to attend to. Her biggest problem was that most of those duties were things her Thane was better suited for, and it showed in some of her dealings with Dragonsreach; twice, Irileth had called at the house checking if her Thane had returned, citing some matter that he was supposed to attend to personally, and the second time Serana had answered the door, no shoes on, reading A Game At Dinner, which resulted in Lydia getting a brief interrogation and talking to from her superior (seeing as Irileth was only outranked in Whiterun's hierarchy by her Thane and the Jarl himself), and hadn't that been embarrassing. Standing in the backyard with Irileth, having just explained the entire situation, the female Dunmer looking like she was trying to decide whether to laugh, scream, sigh, or a combination of the three; Lydia had to admit, afterward from the bottom of a bottle of Honningbrew, her fellow Housecarl's face was pretty funny to watch when flustered.

Now, here she was, getting some toast and eggs into her system, and trying to ignore the fact that not only was it the 28th, but the vampire had somehow found a copy of The Complete Collected Works of Crassius Curio and was now reading it by the fire in full view of the door with a small smile on her face. Disgusting. So, yeah, it looked like it would be one of those days.

Then the door opened and her Thane strode inside without preamble, a short hooded figure trailing behind him.

"My Thane!" Lydia cried in relief, and didn't she sound like some heart-sick housewife, "Where have you been?"

"Hello, Lydia," Thane Drevas greeted tiredly, and Lydia noticed that he looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days, "Serana."

"Drevas," the vampire greeted, tilting her tome of smut and nodding in greeting, "Who's your shadow?"

Lydia whirled to the hooded figure, which was now no longer hooded and looking about with tired interest, eyes lidded and with a coldness about them that wasn't right for such a young girl. Nevertheless, Lydia did her job and sized the young lass up: 'Breton features, large front teeth, good Gods did she cut her hair with a knife, fatigued eyes, ebony axe at her belt, is that Thane's crossbow?' Before the Housecarl could get any further, the girl spoke in a quiet voice and odd accent.

"I'm Hermione."

…Nothing else. 'She's either exhausted or traumatized,' thought Lydia with a suppressed shudder, 'and considering that it's Drevas she's been travelling with, it may as well be both.'

Luckily, her Thane was quick to elaborate, "What she means to say is, 'Hi, I'm Hermione Granger, Thane Drevas' apprentice, now could someone please direct me to the bath before I collapse on something fragile.' And the latter for me as well, once she's done."

The girl nodded, like a puppet on strings.

As Lydia tried to decide whether to scream or cry, Serana spoke up, "I'll take her," and stood, guiding the unresisting young woman to the back of the house while one stressed-out Housecarl gaped at their backs and one exhausted Thane began removing armor and equipment.

Once Lydia got over the fact that her Thane had just let a vampire go into a private room with a teenage girl, and said girl went willingly, she whirled on her Dunmer lord, "My Thane," she said through clenched teeth as said Thane removed his gauntlets and placed them on the proper table next to the door, "Where did that girl come from?" Never mind everything else that was wrong with this picture!

Her Thane pointed at her favorite chair as he worked on one of his cuirass' straps, "Siddown and I'll tell you. Better yet, grab a couple bottles of mead first," 'Oh hells, what has he done now?'

"It's seven bells in the morning, my Thane."

"Ale, then." He placed his ebony armor on the table, and was about to sit down to take off his boots when he noticed the book Serana had been reading. "Lydia. What have I told you about the box under my bed?"

Yep. Lydia was going to kill that vampire.

. . . . .

Serana had noticed it as soon as the girl had taken off her hood. 'She's seen something horrible, and Drevas…he means well, but he's honestly hopeless where children are involved.'

It was also really disturbing to hear the girl speak in that dead tone; Serana got her out of the room before Lydia's prudishness triggered the poor thing.

Once they were in the bath, Serana decided to try and get her to open up a bit through conversation; not that she was very experienced in such things herself, having little contact with actual society in her formative years, but she'd had her own share of horrible experiences, so felt confident she could at least help the lass recover from…well, whatever was bothering her.

Said young woman glanced quickly about the room, presumably to check for exits and useful items ('Drevas must be teaching her how to adventure.') before leveling that weary gaze on Serana, who was currently filling the iron tub with water from the irrigation spigot. And…just stood there, staring at Serana blankly. 'Oooo-kay. Looks like I'm leading this off.'

"It'll be easier, you know," began Serana gently, "if you take off your gear. It'll be kind of hard to wash yourself otherwise." The young woman, Hermione Serana reminded herself, began slowly taking off the various bits of armor she was wearing, never taking her eyes off the vampire. 'It's like she doesn't trust me,' Serana thought as she heated the water with a fire spell, 'Well, you managed to get Isran to…well, not like, but he tolerates you. Just keep trying.' "Well, you go on and get in; I'll look about for some toiletries." Hermione just nodded again, stripping off her steel plate and leather gear with practiced ease…and no apparent care for modesty, but, hey, they were both girls. Serana dismissed the thought.

A rifle around the cabinet on the left side of the room produced a lump of fine pumice, a bar of soap, and a comb. Perfect; the new girl would be feeling right as rain in no time. Turning back to the young woman, she found Hermione (difficult name, but she'd remember it) already in the tub, holding a strange stick: it looked like it was made of vine, but vine that had been polished, finished, and clearly crafted for some purpose. It was also pointed in her general direction. Hmm.

"Well, that introduction in the main room was a bit wanting," Serana said, approaching Hermione, who kept her eyes on her and was too still, "So how about we try again? I'm Serana Volkihar, and you are?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed briefly, before she replied in the same quiet tone as before, "I'm Hermione Granger," a pause, then the young woman continued, much to Serana's relief, "Master Drevas spoke of you, said you were a vampire and that your father wanted to take over Tamriel."

Serana laughed lightly, pulling up a chair to sit next to the bath, "Well, at least he told the truth, though that's quite a lot to lay on such a young person," she placed a tray on the lip of the tub, then put the pumice stone and soap on it while Hermione scowled at her.

"I'm not a child," oh my, was that petulance?

"I never said you were," Serana picked up a pair of scissors from the sink counter and sat in the chair, all while smiling in a disarming way. "So what's that stick for?"

Hermione looked down, looking surprised that she was holding it, "Oh, hells," and tossed it over on to her pile of clothes before burying her face in her hands while leaning back, "Sorry, force of habit. And it's a wand, I use it to cast spells."

Serana nodded, admiring the girl's physique. 'Wow. Give her a few years, and she'll have to use that axe to keep suitors away instead of bandits.' "So, where are you from?"

. . . . .

I dragged my hands over my face, feeling both exhausted and a little more at ease now that I was in a bath, before answering the dark-haired vampire, "I don't really know. Amnesia," and picked up the pumice to start getting the dirt off.

"Oh, well that's…wow, how'd you get Drevas to trust you, if you can't remember anything?" Was this woman ever going to stop asking questions?

I shrugged as I worked on my feet, "Dunno, I guess he didn't want me to die down in Blackreach." This Serana's eyes bulged; they looked like a couple glowing coals in black voids. 'Weird.'

"Blackreach?" She picked up a comb, as I nodded, eyeing those scissors warily, "What in the Eight were you-oh, wait, you probably don't remember. Sorry."

"It's fine…last thing I remember was getting brained by a Falmer. Hardly anything exciting there…" I trailed off, keeping one eye on her and another on a stubborn patch of dirt on my right calf.

"Oof, that sucks," Serana looked at the scissors, then at me with a hopeful smile, "I suppose the rest of the story involves Drevas hacking your hair off with a knife at some point, hmm?" I nodded, feeling a little bit better that she wasn't treating me like a child, "Well, how about I even this up?" She ran a hand, which felt unnaturally warm, through the ragged mess on my head, adding, "I'll even leave some bangs to cover that scar."

A flinch ran through me, "You noticed," I thought I'd covered it well…

Then Serana tapped next to her eyes with a smirk, "Not much escapes my vision. Vampire, and all that."

Yeah, about that, "You're not going to…drink me, are you?" What did she look so surprised for? That's a valid question!

Still, I needn't have worried, "Oh! No, no, I don't drink from people I'm friends with, or anyone who's friends with my friends, or innocent civilians…actually, if you're not a bandit, necromancer or Forsworn, you're in the clear!" She laughed a little, like that was funny…which, considering who was fair game to her, it kind of was. Woe betide those mad bastards.

Which was why I smiled and nodded for her to work on what was left of my hair.

The next hour or so was mostly spent in quiet conversation; I was focusing on cleaning myself up, while Serana focused on not messing up the haircut she was giving me. I also told her about Blackreach, leaving out the part with the Centurion and anything about the "I'm from another world" situation, and the incident with the troll on the surface, but leaving out the bandit fight; that wound was still too raw. She turned out to be sympathetic to my worries, about failing or worse, which made me feel marginally better; my revelation yesterday still shook me, making me wonder if I had what it took to find the way home in this mad world.

The haircut turned out pretty good too…even though I now looked like a boy, what with my bangs falling over my scars on the right side of my head with the rest of my hair cut to a bare inch in length, but beggars can't be choosers. Plus…'If I bind my breasts, I could pass for a boy; who knows, it might lessen my chances of getting raped…I can't believe I just thought that. What a messed up world…'

The peace given by the mundane environment also gave me some time to think about how…different…this place was, compared to everywhere else I'd seen so far, as well as the women I've met, 'This house is so…normal. I can't believe Master Drevas lives in such a rustic, boring place…Serana seems nice, but she'll be leaving with Drevas soon…And Lydia does seem like a stick in the mud…I hope Master can help her understand what I've gone through; otherwise…I'll have to deal with these nightmares alone.' The ones I'd had were bad enough; now that I was safe, with my guard slowly lowering, they might start getting worse…and I didn't want that. Maybe Master had some ideas…

Close to the end of the hour, a loud "WHAT?!" came from the other side of the door, making us both jump.

"That sounded like Lydia," Serana began to rise, but I stopped her.

"Drevas probably just told her about how I dropped a Centurion," oh, the look on her face was priceless.

"You felled a Centurion?" at my nod, her face went really serious, "How? Better yet, why were you even fighting one in the first place?"

I shrugged. I was doing a lot of that lately. "We had to get past it to escape Blackreach, and fighting it was the path of least resistance; if we'd fought the bugger straight-up, one or both of us might have been injured. As to how, I used a Siege-grade Bombardment Charm to blow it apart. Pretty straightforward actually, and sure, it was so loud that all the Falmer in the cave came down on us, but we were almost at the exit by then, and we're faster than those fucking monsters." I scrubbed harder with the soap while Serana gaped at me.

She slowly stood, looking like she was in shock. I watched as she moved over to the door, opening it a crack to call out in a shaky voice, "Drevas?"

My mentor's voice filtered through, "What?" He also sounded slightly drunk, but I was too tired to care.

"Did this young woman seriously blow up a Centurion?" What? She didn't believe me?...Well, we did just get introduced, and she was more familiar with Master than I was.

"Yep," Drevas confirmed from the main room, "Sorine would've shat herself to see it."

Serana slowly closed the door, looking at me with wide eyes, "Who are you?"

I gave her a sad smile, my eyes starting to burn at the innocent question, "I wish I knew."

Just like that, it felt like a flood gate had opened inside me; all the insecurities and doubts I'd had since waking up in that house five days ago came screaming to the front of my mind, and it was all I could do not to scream. As it was, I hugged my knees to my chest, buried my face in them, and started sobbing quietly. 'I want to go home! I miss…Harry! I want to remember! DAMN AMNESIA!'

Okay, maybe not so quietly.

After a moment, Serana wrapped her arms around me, shushing and whispering encouragement at me; she was really warm, and I don't know why but I felt safe here, so I found myself drifting off to sleep.

. . . . .

Drevas watched Hermione's life-sign as she finally broke down, and Serana moved to comfort her, 'Well, the hard part's over. The rest is up to her.' He checked his bottle…empty; oh, and Lydia was glaring at him. "What?"

"Far be it from me to criticize your choices, my Thane…but why did you make such a young person your apprentice?" 'Ah. Well, at least that's not a stupid question.'

"You mean besides the fact that she's a powerful mage and needs to learn how to use her magic responsibly?" At Lydia's nod, Drevas continued, "The other reason is that she won't survive without someone to teach her how, and do you know anyone better suited for teaching survival techniques?"

His Housecarl wasn't having any of it, and deadpanned, "No, seeing as you're older and better traveled than Aela, but that doesn't mean you should be left to your own devices around children, especially unsupervised." 'Wait…what?!'

Drevas raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong with the way I act that would prevent me from being around children? The ones here in Whiterun seem to like me." At that, Lydia buried her face in her hands and groaned, 'It probably has something to do with how I dealt with the dragon at Skyborn Altar. She couldn't look me in the eye for days after that.'

"Barring what you did at Skyborn," 'Called it.' "The utterly ridiculous amount of trouble you get into on a regular basis simply boggles the mind, and you subjected a recently injured teenage girl with little to no experience in such matters to the insanity you partake in. My Thane, please tell me you see how that's wrong."

"Insanity, Lydia? A Dwemer ruin full of Falmer, one troll and a few bandits hardly classifies as insanity. Besides, she took it well enough." Lydia stared at Drevas like he'd lost his mind, while the Dunmer in question just tried not to pass out in his chair.

"My Thane, she's fifteen!" Lydia seemed insistent on that point, not to mention she was building to a rant, so Drevas shut her down before really she got going and said something to make him mad. He was really tired, and the last thing he wanted to do was have an argument with an uppity Nord.

"And you are twenty-seven, and see yourself as a role-model for the younger generation, yet find it perfectly acceptable to have a different man in your bed every other day; also, need I remind you how old you were when you took your first life, or the life you led before swearing yourself to Jarl Balgruuf?" She wilted at that, but Drevas wasn't done, "Hermione is probably smarter than you, hells, she's probably smarter than Farengar, considering how fast she picked up what I've taught her thus far; I gave her a choice, and if she wants to be my apprentice and learn the ways of the world, then I won't stop her. Now let me rest." Lydia raised her hands in surrender, sighing, while Drevas rubbed his tired eyes. 'Three days without a decent night's sleep, and this is what I come home to; Mephala's saggy tits, what a week.'

As if to punctuate his thought, the door to the bath opened; Serana carefully exited, Hermione's pack on her back, the girl herself curled up in her arms and bundled in the cloak she'd been wearing when Drevas found her. The Daughter of Coldharbour gave the Last Dragonborn a significant look, then carried the exhausted young witch up the stairs, presumably to put her in a warm bed; Drevas just suppressed a weary groan, 'Boethiah, lend me strength, lest these women be the end of me.' The god-ancestor, as was usual when he wasn't in battle, apparently ignored him; sighing in resignation, the aged adventurer rose to begin his own bath.

"Was there anything else, Lydia?" He figured he'd best get any actual business out of the way before dealing with Serana.

"Err, yes my Thane," 'Damnit all…' "Irileth came by twice, something about inspecting the work crews erecting a new settlement in the hold's western reaches; according to her, the Jarl wants a place where new recruits can be trained, supplies and trade can be sorted for transport to and from Skyrim's westernmost holds, and an outpost for dealing with Forsworn incursions. Oh, and Sister Danica wishes to commemorate your assistance in restoring the Gildergreen by having a plaque installed in the Dragonsreach main hall," Lydia rattled off cheerfully as Drevas groaned piteously, all dreams of rest driven away by his incipient duties as Thane of Whiterun.

"Oh, joy; more accolades for hitting the right things." With that, he staggered his way to the bath while Lydia shook her head in amusement at her Thane's antics.

. . . . .
Late Evening, 28
th First Seed, 4E201
Whiterun City, Breezehome, Guest Bedroom
. . . . .

I woke from a nightmare of dirty white fur and blood in a large bed, Serana's too warm hands smoothing out my hair and catching part of the conversation she was having with Master Drevas; not wanting to interrupt, and wondering what they were talking about, I kept my eyes closed, and listened.

"…can you be certain? You don't exactly have experience in dealing with other Dragonborn, do you?" Serana whispered.

From the foot of the bed came my mentor's equally quiet murmur, "The draugr do count, at least the ones that can Shout; she described the sensation exactly." I kept myself from tensing; 'They're talking about me using the Thu'um. But…But anyone can learn it…right?'

Serana sighed, "This is too much, Drevas; another world, I can get behind that, given my experiences with Daedra," she paused, while I felt a bitter sting in my gut; 'He told her…He said he wouldn't!' Her next words, however, filled me with dread: "But you're saying she's Dragonborn, like you are. That can't be possible, can it? I certainly don't see Akatosh allowing for such a thing." 'What? No…That can't be!'

I opened my eyes, surprising Serana who withdrew her hand; she was wearing a dark blue shirt that looked too large for her, judging from how it hung off her shoulders. Lifting my head up to look at Drevas, he was knelt at the foot of the bed wearing his usual black attire; he looked so old, like a lifetime of regrets were making themselves known on his face. My own face probably wasn't much better; I could practically feel the bags under my eyes, and I still felt so very tired, but I had to know. He knew something, he had to know something about this.

I whispered, "The sensation I felt, when you used that life-sign Shout, you've felt it too?" At his nod, I hissed, "And I'm only finding this out now?!"

Before I could even get properly mad, Drevas spoke softly, tiredness creeping into his voice, "When would I have told you, hmm? I'd already laid some pretty heavy truths on you, between the house and the tower; then that woman went and killed herself all over you," I flinched at the reminder of that awful moment, "and you've been a wreck ever since." He swiped a hand over his eyes, trying to stave off tiredness, before continuing, "In addition, it's probably my fault you can use the Thu'um in the first place; whether or not you're actually Dovahkiin remains to be seen."

"What do you mean, Drevas?" asked Serana, echoing my thoughts.

Said Dunmer took a deep breath to steady himself, before replying, "Hermione, in addition to your head injury, you took an arrow through your right calf, missing the bones but severing an artery; you lost a considerable amount of blood, but you knew that from cleaning your clothes. Now, do you know what a field transfusion is?" At my negative head shake, he explained, "It's where one person donates blood directly from their body to a person who desperately needs it, usually in the event where the patient is unconscious; some potions, like those that replenish blood, can have…unfortunate side-effects if the person isn't conscious when taking them, you see. Anyway, seeing as the potential for Dragonborn is carried through the blood, which some mages view as the currency of the soul, I theorize that your ability to use the Thu'um stems from my…ability being imprinted onto your soul through my gift of blood."

'Holy shite…wait,' "But…you've done these transfusions before, right?"

"Well, yes, but that was before I'd killed a dragon; absorbing the dragon's…life-force, I suppose, unlocked my potential. It's the mark of the Dovahkiin, being able to do that, and I'm not about to throw you at a friggin' dragon to find out if you can as well."

I sighed in relief, 'Thank the gods for that! I'm still getting over the troll; no fire-breathing flying lizards, please!' "Well, I don't blame you for doing it, even if I'm…Dragonborn, now. Just another advantage I can use to survive, right?"

Drevas smiled, "Quite. Who knows; with two Thu'um users out and about, Skyrim might get less chaotic. No one wants to piss one of us off; just look at Stormcloak and the Greybeards."

"All well and good," Serana interjected, "but we still have a problem: Hermione might be Dragonborn. What are you going to do about it?"

I had the answer to that one, "He's already done something about it," my mentor must be really tired, as he joined Serana in looking at me questioningly, "You've taken me in as your apprentice; you taught me a Shout, even if it's a passive one; and you've brought me here, where you're well-liked and respected. You're going to assign someone to train me in combat and/or look after me while you're away, aren't you?" Serana eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Drevas just smirked and nodded.

Then, to Serana, he said, "See? I told you, smarter than the average sprog, she is," my mentor turned to me, "And yes; you'll be learning the basics of using that axe from Lydia while Serana and I go to inspect a fledgling settlement, which will take a day or two. I'll have a chat with the Jarl's court wizard, Farengar, about giving you magic lessons as well; that wand certainly is useful, but, well, fallbacks." I nodded with a small smile, feeling excited about learning more magic. "Once Lydia feels you have the basics down, and I'm satisfied with the results, you'll be introduced to a professional trainer to hone your abilities. On top of all that, I'll write down what words of power I know so you can meditate on them; fair warning: do not practice the Thu'um inside the city, as I won't be responsible for you burning someone's house down by accident."

I narrowed my eyes, "I'm not irresponsible, master. You, on the other hand…" he glared at me, and I could almost feel Serana smirking, so I finished, "need rest, and so do I. Bugger off."

Drevas groaned, "Women." And got out of the room very quickly for someone his age and level of exhaustion.

"Ugh," I fell back onto my pillow, "What an arse." Serana smiled down at me, turning so her body was facing me before lying down. I turned my head and looked into glowing eyes filled with mirth, "So, why are you here? The bed's warm enough without you turning it into an oven."

The vampire just smiled, "I figured you'd want a sympathetic ear; our situations are similar, after all." 'Oh, right; she was locked in a tomb for over a thousand years.'

So I smiled back, "You at least knew what the world would look like; I feel like I'm adrift in a sea of madness without a compass."

Serana just shrugged, "Yeah, it does feel like that sometimes…okay, most of the time. But what's life without a little excitement?"

"A little less excitement would be appreciated, thank you very much," I grinned while Serana laughed, before I sobered a bit, "I still can't believe that woman killed herself."

Serana's smile faded a bit, "Tell me what happened."

So I did, speaking in hushed whispers and sparing no detail; I told her about killing that rapist bandit, who I now realized was my first real kill; I told her about freeing his victim, and her horrible suicide; by the time I was done relating the whole event, I was near tears again, "I-I just don't get it! She was safe, she'd survived what they'd done to her, so why?!"

"She gave up hope," the vampire next to me said sadly; looking at her face, Serana's eyes were distant as she went on, "When you're in a situation like that, the best thing you can do is find something to hold onto, like a memory that makes you feel something. Otherwise, with each violation you die a little more inside, until you have no hope of being the person you were…before. That woman, she lost herself long before you arrived; by the sound of it, she decided to kill herself the first chance she got, to spare living with the shame. It's not your fault, it's the bandit's." When she put it that way…I felt a bit better, having it put into perspective like that.

But… there was something I didn't understand, "Feel something? What do you mean?"

She smiled a little, just a quirk at the edge of her lips, "It can be anything, like…well, when I went through…something like that, I thought about the feel of the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, the smells of the sea; if I thought about freedom, and nothing else, I'd survive," she shrugged, "It wasn't happy, or sad, but it got me through."

"Sorry, Serana, but I don't see how anyone would be stupid enough to do that to a vampire," said I disbelievingly.

Her smile only grew, "Do you know where vampirism comes from, Hermione?"

I wracked my brain for a moment, then nodded, "It was in that book on necromancy; vampirism originated from a Daedric Prince, supposedly as a blessing. It didn't say which Prince, though, and there's sixteen of them…" I trailed off, realizing what she was implying by her lingering smile and sad eyes, "You? You got your vampirism directly from the source?" Oh wow.

Serana nodded, "Did Drevas tell you who my family worships?"

'Oh holy shite!' "You mean to tell me…that you became a vampire…by offering yourself to Molag Bal?!" I whispered in shock and horror; at her nod, my blood ran cold, "Why, in the name of all that's good, would you do that?"

"The times were different, and I really didn't know much else; I rarely saw the world outside the castle," shrugged Serana, "And it's not like I didn't prepare for the event. See, in cults to Old Molag, young women are offered up to Him on His summoning day to be…'tested', so most of my childhood was spent in preparation for that day. Still," now she looked a mite uncomfortable, not meeting my eyes, "it was…degrading, to say the least; I wouldn't recommend it," those glowing eyes met mine once again, "Not everyone survives the ordeal, but those that do are reborn as an apex predator, a pure-blooded vampire: the Daughters of Coldharbour."

Wow. "Are there a lot of you? Daughters of Coldharbour, I mean."

Apparently not, "No. In fact, I'm the third daughter my parents had; my older sisters all died in the same trial I performed. My mother is one, too, but that sort of thing isn't hereditary, hence the ritual."

I didn't think it was possible to be physically in awe of someone, let alone a vampire; to go through all that, and come out so…well-adjusted and normal. Even so, it needed to be said: "Serana, no offence, but your family sounds really fucked up." Seriously, for her parents to put their own daughter through something like that

"None taken," the vampire replied with a dry laugh, "It's actually part of why I left; my father's gone mad, thinking he can take over all of Tamriel just because of a stupid prophecy and the power he holds. No," Serana shook her head, frowning, "I don't think our power and immortality should be used like that. It's not right…"

Her tone when she spoke reminded me of something Harry had once told me, when talking about magic and our responsibility as magic-users: "We've been given this great power, but look what some people use it for; no, 'Mione, that's not me. Magic should be used to make people's lives better, it shouldn't be hidden, like we should be ashamed of it; what's the point of getting stronger, if we can't make the whole world a better place to live?"

The passion with which Serana spoke reminded me of that little speech from a blurry memory; it endeared me to this vamp-no, this person, and I wondered if her thoughts would be the same as my Harry's. I turned to face her fully, smiling and taking one of her hands in mine, asking, "So what would you do with it, if you had the chance?"

She smiled right back, looking a bit bashful, "No one's ever really asked, but…I'd work on expanding medicine through Alchemy, to help people live longer, maybe even wipe out disease entirely; or I could dabble in politics, just advising though, as I don't really have a desire for power; but if I could change or pass a few laws to make everyone safer, it would be worth it," she grinned, and wow, those fangs look sharp, "But no one really trusts a vampire to make the world a better place."

I hummed, remembering how tense Lydia looked when Serana walked too close to her; I really didn't understand the Housecarl's attitude. Once you got to know her, Serana was a very nice person to be around. That brought an idea into my head, as I began drifting off to sleep, so I shared it with the beautiful woman next to me, "Then…don't be a vampire to them. Be a person, and I'm sure they'll come around."

As I fell back into the realm of dreams (and nightmares), my last sight was of Serana's pleasantly surprised face.

. . . . .
29th First Seed, 4E201
Whiterun City
. . . . .

I was woken by an annoying sunbeam slipping through the curtains of the room's only window; bloody buggering sun, waking me at this unholy hour. And I'd been having such a nice dream too. I snuggled into the nice, warm pillow pressing against my face, smiling and committing the dream to memory.

I was in the bath from yesterday, just washing myself, when Harry walked in. Just remembering the heated snogging that occurred made me blush and go all tingly. But…then Serana had appeared in the dream…joining us in the tub…

'Oh…wow,' I thought, realizing what had happened, 'That raises rather a lot of questions about myself…Best head to the loo, then breakfast, then work out for a while, then learn how to use that axe I picked up, then ignore those questions with a vengeance.'

It was then that I realized not only could I not move to give reality to those plans, but the warm body pillow I was curled up against was breathing.

Opening my eyes, I realized that both Serana and I must like to move about in our sleep, not to mention enjoy cuddling. Her left arm was wrapped around my shoulders, while my left hand was resting between her breasts, my face pressed into the side of her ample bosom; as if that wasn't embarrassing enough, my left leg was draped across her bare waist, Serana's shirt having ridden up during the night, and she was holding my equally bare thigh with a blazingly warm hand, my robe having parted in the front, leaving absolutely nothing between us, save my right arm, which was between her side and my body.

Turning redder than a tomato, I thought furiously how to wake the gently snoring woman gently, even as my treacherous mind informed me she smelled delightfully of nightshade, with a hint of copper. 'NO! Bad brain!'

"Serana," I whispered urgently, tapping her breastbone and praying Master Drevas didn't walk in, "Serana. Wake up!"

"Mmmhmm," moaned Serana, pulling me closer, forcing a startled 'Eep!' from my lips as the action applied pressure in certain…places, "Five more minutes, mum."

Okay, seriously? "I am not your mother, Serana," said I in the sternest whisper I could manage, given my rather compromising position, "Now wake up!"

Her eyes flew open, orange eyes full of surprise darting down to my burning red face, "Oh! Gods, Hermione, I'm so sorry!" She immediately released me, both of us parting to a respectable distance and straightening our clothes.

"Its fine," I said shakily, forcing down some very inappropriate thoughts as I did so, "No harm done…and you're really warm, so it's kind of my fault too." 'Gah! Stop making a fool of yourself, Ganger!'

Have you ever seen a vampire blush? It's really weird; like pink spider webs forming on their cheeks. "Oh…err, well…Let's just agree we're both at fault, hmm?" I nodded quickly, and Serana visibly relaxed, then grinned mischievously and quipped, "On the other hand, I always wanted a stuffed animal to cuddle at night…" 'NO! DO NOT THINK ABOUT THAT SENTENCE! BAD BRAIN!' If my face got any hotter, it might spontaneously combust!

Suddenly, the door opened; seeing as I was still a little on edge, what with the sporadic nightmares and embarrassing moments, not to mention the fact that Serana and I were hardly decent, I reacted on instinct, snatching up my wand from the bedside table and casting the first spell that came to mind with feeling. "Flipendo!"

And sent Master Drevas, in full armor with a daft helmet crowned with ram's horns pointing straight up, flying across the hall and through a poor, innocent door, shattering it and eliciting a high-pitched feminine scream from the room's occupant, Lydia, who had apparently been in the process of getting dressed.

"Master!" Oh bugger me, I just killed the Dragonborn!

"Drevas!" cried Serana in horror. 'Oh crap, she's going to drain me dry for this.'

"My Thane!" Lydia sounded both shocked and worried. 'Or I'll just get executed. I hope the axe isn't blunt.'

"Good morning, ladies!" Drevas called cheerfully from the floor of Lydia's room, apparently no worse for wear, much our collected relief. "Now that we're all wide awake: Serana, get kitted. We're leaving to inspect that settlement in an hour. Hermione, once you're done with your morning routine, meet Lydia out back for basic axe training, then head over to Dragonsreach after lunch for your first lessons with Farengar; you can spend the rest of the day after lessons going over my notes on the Thu'um. Lydia, I've left instructions in your desk drawer for a multitude of situations that may arise in my absence, so your job should be a lot easier; now, if someone could please help me up?"

There are all sorts of exciting ways to start one's day, and that was pretty much one of them.

. . . . .

My morning went much like Master Drevas said it would; breakfast, a quick workout, and axe training with Lydia, with Serana leaving with him shortly after breakfast. The second half of the day was…more interesting, mainly because I was allowed out of the house on my own.

Speaking of the house, now that I wasn't stuck in melancholic apathy to my surroundings, I managed to take a good look around my new abode while performing my exercises.

Breezehome was shaped like a 't', with the main room forming the long part, a bathroom at the top, and a pantry on the right of the 't'; the room on the left, below the staircase to the second floor, was magically locked. I was told by Lydia that it was Master Drevas' Alchemy Lab, and only he was allowed entry, mainly due to the volatility of several ingredients stored within. I wondered if he'd teach me Alchemy; also, I wondered how it differed from potion brewing. What knowledge I had on Potions was probably useless anyway, seeing as the ingredients I'd need didn't exist, so studying what passed for potions in this world was added to my 'to do' list.

The main room wasn't as interesting as a locked magical laboratory, with a table and chairs near the pantry, an overfilled bookshelf (which I was immediately resolved to read and organize) situated near a fire pit (for cooking meals and heating), more chairs for lounging about, and a worn table next to the door that, I was told, was used for cleaning armor. All in all, it was cozy, if a bit sparse; there weren't any wall decorations beyond some Nordic dream-catchers, and a painting of a castle in the sky in the upstairs hallway.

The second floor had three bedrooms, connected to a small hallway. Lydia's bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and I was told to 'stay out!' by its occupant after magically repairing her door. Across the hall was a guest room, which I was currently sharing with Serana, containing a double bed, wardrobe, dresser, two trunks and a wash basin; cozy. The room in the middle of the hall was Master Drevas', and was locked in the same way as his Lab.

While I was learning how to safely parry a sword with my axe, Lydia told me the reason: while he was away, Serana had gotten into a box of banned books he kept under his bed, which had resulted in some embarrassing moments for the Housecarl, which she related to me with frustrated growls and harder blows of her blunt training sword.

I still thought the stories were funny, completely worth the burning pain in my arms and shoulders; melee combat isn't as easy as Drevas makes it look!

A lunch of corned beef-filled bread rolls and veggies later, I was on my way up to Dragonsreach to meet with the Jarl's court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire, clad in dark blue robes with white trim and my usual boots; walking up the stairs to the Wind District near the city barracks, I looked about the Plains District, with its bronze-roofed wooden houses clustered together all slapdash, and matched up what I'd read of this city to the reality.

Whiterun was constructed atop a large hill with a natural spring beneath the keep; it was this spring that brought water to the houses of the city via a series of Empire-constructed aqueducts, which were constructed back in the early Third Era. The aquifer that fed the spring also fed several other springs in the surrounding fields, providing a fertile land for farming. This was the major reason Ysgramor's Companions first settled the hill in the Merethic Era, that and the abundance of game in the mountains to the south.

The city is divided into three tiers, from lowest to highest on the hill: Plains, Wind and Cloud Districts. Breezehome, the city smithy, Warmaiden's, the city barracks, the marketplace and tavern were all contained in the Plains District, and was where most of Whiterun's working folk, farmers, hunters and the like, lived their lives. The Wind District contained the manor houses for the city's oldest families, the Battle-Born's and Gray-Mane's, descendants of those first settlers, as well as the Hall of the Dead for burials, a Temple to Divine Kynareth, which acted as a house of healing, and the oldest building in Whiterun, if not the oldest constantly-occupied building in all of Skyrim: Jorrvaskr, constructed from the Companion's longboat of the same name, around five-thousand years ago, and the founding structure which Whiterun was built around.

It was to this building my gaze was eventually drawn, as I walked into the courtyard in the Wind District. The bread-loaf shaped building sitting squat atop a lesser hill, a staircase of weathered stone leading up to its doors, with the Gildergreen in bloom, pink flowers seeming to dance with the wind along to the water's music coming from the open aqueducts near the square; it was easily the most beautiful thing I'd seen since leaving Blackreach.

Figuring I had a few minutes to spare, I leant against one of the pillars of the wooden ring encircling the tree and just enjoyed the view. A few citizens were about in the square, some going to and fro around the city, while others took advantage of the warm early spring day; a Redguard couple having a quiet conversation on a bench, the wife's eyes looking concerned, glancing between her love and the Temple of Kyne, as her husband laid an arm about her shoulders in comfort, tension bleeding out of her as she leant into his touch. A tall Nord, wearing armor with wolves emblazoned on it, was listening to a hunter's tale, the shorter, fur clad Imperial gesticulating with his hands while his shaggy-haired listener nodded along in interest. A brown haired girl in brown-gold priestess' robes was leaning against the wall of the temple, apart from the bustle of the square, looking up at the Gildergreen with contentment on her face.

It was a really nice day. But, well, no rest for the wicked; I had lessons in magic to attend! I pushed off the pillar with a sigh, glancing to the mead-hall on the hill one more time, and was halfway to the stairs to the keep when a shout went up.

"Daedra worshipper!" slurred a voice off to my right; glancing over curiously, I had just enough time to raise my hands and catch the heavy leather-bound tome that had been flung at my head! "Consort of elves! How DARE you defile this holy site!"

The speaker was a Nord, dressed in robes marking him as a priest to Talos, and was currently staggering his way toward me and brandishing his finger at me like I was some misbehaving child. Well I never! "And how dare you, sir, flinging books at innocent bystanders and hurling baseless accusations!" A glance at the poor, defenseless book's tattered and stained cover, Ten Commands, Nine Divines, had me seething at the disrespect shown to the tome, but the drunken priest was not to be deterred.

"Baseless?! You accuse me, Heimskr, chosen prophet of mighty Talos, of lies, little whore of the Thalmor?!" Need I say all that was spat and slurred at five paces from me? Also, this guy smelt like he took a bloody bath in whiskey, so, yeah, eww. "I've seen you in the company of elves and daedra, do not deny!" Wait, was he talking about Scales and Master?

A couple of guards, who'd been standing over near the path to the market, glanced at each other and began to make their way over, so I decided to make my allegiances clear, and did so loudly, "You mean Thane Drevas and his clannfear? Well, I am his apprentice, so you may have some vague point, but that doesn't excuse you from assaulting young ladies on the street!"

The drunken gobshite was having none of it, though, "Foreigners and monsters, she says! In the name of mighty Talos, I will show you the light!" and drew a rusty knife on me! My hand flew to my wand case-

Thwack! Right as the head of a gnarled, wooden staff collided with this Heimskr's groin, courtesy of the young priestess who'd been relaxing by the Temple.

"Heimskr!" growled the girl, maybe a few years younger than me, through gritted teeth at the groaning drunk, "What did Sister Danica say?!" she wound up for another blow, "Leave!"

Thwack! "Ghaa!" Right in the knee!

"The people!"

Thwack! "Oww! Damn harpy!" Another across the shoulder, driving him further away from me; she was herding him to the guards!

"ALONE!"

Thwack! One more, in his bum, sent him yelping and staggering into the arms of the two guards, who then began dragging him over to a small shack next to the Talos Shrine, across the square from the Temple.

And everyone who'd been watching the scene, the Redguard couple and the two hunters, went back about their day like nothing happened; well, except myself, clutching the book to my chest with one arm and watching the little priestess calming herself. After a moment of watching her fume with frustration, I decided to address her, "Hey, thanks," she turned to me questioningly, "I, um, probably would have hurt him, if he attacked me, so…thank you."

She raised an eyebrow at me, frowning for some reason, "Are you really Thane Drevas' apprentice?"

Oh. I laughed, "Well, yeah. He found me half-dead in a Dwemer ruin, and, once I was healed up, was so impressed with my magical abilities against the Falmer he took me under his wing, taught me to defend myself, yeah?" That got rid of her confusion, if the interested look on her face was any indication, "Nice job with that drunk, though; I'm guessing that's a common occurrence?" Comprehension and mild embarrassment colored the young priestess' face.

"Ohh, that explains it, then; you're new here in Whiterun. Sorry for being suspicious, and yeah, Heimskr gets like that every once in a while. He did that to me, too, when I first got here," she explained with an eye roll and scoff, "Idiot called me a baby troll, and tried to hurl a brick at me. Miss Irileth put him in the dungeons for a week after that one!" She laughed, I laughed, and the remaining tension bled away.

"I'm Hermione, by the way," I introduced myself, "Adventurer in training and Drevas' apprentice. It's nice to meet you."

"Lucia," replied the priestess with a little bow, "Priestess Aspirant of Kynareth and apprentice to Sister Danica Pure-Spring. Pleasure to meet you." Wow, that sounded much more impressive than my intro!

I glanced at the poor battered holy book in my arms, before offering it to Lucia, "Here. Master Drevas already has a copy, and you'll probably take better care of it than that arse has," she took the book, shifting her staff to her back.

"You sound like you're madder about the book's treatment than what he said to you," I don't know why, but the wry smile Lucia had when she said that made me a little angrier, because she was right.

"Well I am! I know what he said was untrue, and he's probably crazy, but that doesn't give him the right to treat books that way, especially if he's a priest, which I doubt," huffed I as Lucia nodded in agreement, "Anyway, I got to go up to Dragonsreach; Master Drevas set me up to learn magic from the court wizard, Farengar."

The Aspirant wrinkled her nose, "You're going to learn magic from Farengar?" The way she said his name made me worried about my coming lessons; at my hesitant nod, she went on in a conspiratorial whisper, "Well, word of advice, Hermione: don't let his attitude get to you. He's a brilliant mage, but, in my opinion, and pardon my language, he could do with getting his head out his arse."

Okay, huh? "So…he's not a nice person?" If I find Master Drevas set me up with an arsehole…

"Oh, it's not that. He means well, but he's…umm," Lucia looked like she was trying to find a word that was polite enough not to offend me while getting her point across, "Err…he's…annoying? No, that doesn't quite say it…"

"Pretentious?" I supplied hopefully, which gained me another confused look, so I gave her the definition, "It means someone or something that attempts to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, stuff like that."

It seems I hit the nail on the head, "Yes! Exactly that, he's pretentious; I mean, there's nothing wrong with the school of Restoration! It's so useful, for more than just healing, too; but Farengar looks down his nose at anything that isn't related to the Enchanting school." Well, now I know why Drevas set me up with him, what with the enchanting I did in Blackreach, but Lucia seemed to want to rant about this guy, "It's infuriating, dealing with him, especially when you need an amulet or ring checked out for curses; he acts like I'm an idiot and called Master Danica incompetent!" She fumed, still speaking quietly so as not to disturb the peace. "I mean, he didn't say that, but it's what he meant!"

Well! "Thanks for the advice, Lucia," said I with a smile, speaking just as quietly, "Don't worry about me, though; I'm willing to learn, but if he gives me lip or insults my master, I'll turn him into a pigeon." I gave a toothy grin at the end while Lucia looked bemused.

"A pigeon? That would be funny, Hermione, if it were possible," Ooh, was that challenge in her eye? Must be an apprentice thing…

But I drew my wand anyway, picking up a pebble, "Lucia," a tap of my wand and muttered incantation turned the pebble into a sparrow, which flew with a twitter into the Gildergreen's branches, "We can do magic; anything is possible."

Lucia looked between the sparrow-pebble and myself, momentarily awed into speechlessness, before, "Wha-how? Is that an illusion?"

"Nope, just applied Mysticism and Alteration," chirped I, using the cover story I'd developed, with Lydia's help, over lunch, "It'll wear off in a few minutes; I'm not good enough to make things like that permanent," I finished, trying to sound modest.

She was still impressed, "That's still amazing! Hey, um, do you think we could take lunch together tomorrow? All the other kids my age don't like hanging around me, call me a busybody…" she trailed off in a small voice, but I got the gist of it.

They were picking on her because she was an apprentice? "Yeah, sure!" She looked up, happily surprised I acquiesced, as I went on, "We apprentices should stick together, after all! The more we both know, the better we'll do in our lessons!" Plus, I could have someone my age to talk to; Lydia was nice, but she was old.

Then a bell struck the hour and we both realized I was probably late to said lessons, and Lucia to her duties! "Oh! I'll see you tomorrow then, Hermione!" Lucia bid farewell before walking briskly back to the temple, as I ran for the steps to Dragonsreach.

"I'll be there at noon! Later, Lucia!" I called back, feeling much better than I did when I woke up that morning. Roof over my head, a library in house, magic lessons, and I'd made a friend!

I had a feeling I was going to like living in Whiterun!

. . . . .

_\|/_

. . . . .

A/N:

*cries piteously* finally…After computer troubles, and being assaulted by a rabid plot-bunny with nasty, big, pointy teeth

It's…It's DONE!

I really like how this chapter turned out; it sets the scene for Hermione's stay in Whiterun, which should last for the next chapter or two, and we get some mild fluff in the form of Serana. What? I thought it was cute!

Anywho, that rabid plot bunny gave me a story that I've written part of a first chapter for, so keep an eye out for that being posted before the next chapter of this story. It's called 'Unforgivable' and is suitably dark in its content.

Review please! ~Baked

Next Time: Hermione steps up her training, gets up close with the draugr, and reads a letter.