We rented a room in the Four Shields Tavern in Dragon Bridge. Serana once again set up her sleep roll against the wall opposite the bed, which she insisted that I take… alone.

When I looked askance at her, she gave me a somewhat strained smile, "I'm a Nord, remember? Sleeping on the cold floor won't bother me. Less considering… well… Volkihar vampires aren't affected by the cold either."

"I'm less worried about the cold, and more about your comfort. It seems that you always choose the least comfortable option for yourself," I pointed out gently, sitting on the bed as we talked. "There's no reason for you to lay on a hard stone floor."

Emotion washed through her eyes so quickly that if I blinked, I would have missed it. Fear. Of me.

Son of a skeever. Here comes that talk.

"Serana," my voice was gentle and soft.

She flinched, guilt and shame chasing each other through her eyes now. She rose abruptly, heading for the door to the room, "Well, let's get a meal inside us. We've got to row the boat to the island tomorrow and-"

"Serana," my voice was still gentle, but this time held a hint of firmness in it.

She froze; her face was turned away, but I could see her shoulders tightening.

"I can tell that you're afraid of me," I said the words quietly, and without accusation. "May I ask why?"

She didn't move. She could have been a statue. "You're attracted to me," she spoke after a long silence. "I can see it in your eyes. I see it in the way you look at me, your facial expressions. Even the few times that you touch me."

I spread my hands a little, "Well, yes. You're a beautiful woman. And I admit, I like your personality too. You're brave, smart, and have a very kind heart." She was visibly trembling by the end of the last sentence, and I hastened to reassure her. "Serana, I'm not going to… well, I'm not going to do anything unless you return my feelings. I wouldn't dare."

Serana turned around slowly, pulling her hood back so she could stare at me fully, "Wouldn't… dare…?"

"Gods, no!" I shook my head vigorously. "For one thing, doing so without your consent is a vile act; reserved for the scum of society. I've gutted men for the mere attempt. For another," my lips gave a wry twist, "I can't imagine getting away with it without you ripping my throat out."

"How can you be interested in me? You're a…" Serana abruptly closed her mouth.

"Vampire hunter?" I supplied, still using my gentlest voice. "Yes. Yes, I am. I won't lie, I have killed many, many vampires in my time. But I swear to Stendarr and Meridia both, I have only killed the vampires that were a threat to human lives. And I kill clean. I don't do…" Oh gods we're going to touch on this subject now. Tread carefully... "...awful things like… like rape."

I tried to swallow past a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. "Serana, I am attracted to you for reasons beyond your being a vampire. If you are not attracted to me, please say so. But even if you do return those feelings, anything we do will be with your permission. Even if I take the lead, you will still have control over what we do and how far we go."

My heart ached at her confusion; she had no idea how to handle that statement. I could also see that she didn't completely believe me. Something dark and wounded stirred behind her eyes. It stalked her every thought and haunted her, waking or sleeping. It was hungering for affection and comfort. It was also terrified and wanted nothing more than to flee from the risk.

"My offer of sharing the bed is for sleeping and only to sleep," I promised her earnestly. "I won't hurt you. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to. If I have upset you with the times I have touched you, please tell me. I won't do it again."

Serana bit her lip, one of her fangs becoming prominent as it pressed into her lower lip, and she gripped her right arm with her left hand. Her whole body was coiled with tension, as if she were ready to leap into full flight like a deer before a sabre cat. Somehow, I was the scary sabre cat. It was kind of strange to be reassuring someone who could potentially overpower me, and kill me. Looking at her, however, I could see how vulnerable she was feeling.

Finally, she managed to say, "Thank you. Your touches… aren't unpleasant. But my emotions are all knotted up over them. I need time and…. I think I'm still going to stick to the floor for now."

I simply nodded and gave her a small smile, "Okay. The invitation is still open if you change your mind."

Again, that flash of confusion went through her eyes when I said nothing more. No pressure. No insistence. No arguing. I let it go. I kept my expression calm until she finally turned away and headed out to the taproom for dinner.

I let out a deep breath and struggled to swallow down a burning fury. She was shocked that I would ask for her consent and that I was actually establishing boundaries for her. Boundaries that I would not cross. It was as if she did not expect bodily integrity to even be an option.

Her father… My fists clenched until the knuckles turned white. Stendarr forgive me; if he did what I think he did, mercy will be the farthest thing from my mind when next we meet. I am going to kill him. I'm going to kill him and put the ashes in a waste bucket so that people can piss on the remains! Meridia, I swear it!

I felt something shift in my mind. A faint trickle of… amusement? And the faintest whisper in my mind. "So be it, my Champion."

I let out a long breath. Oddly, making that promise helped calm me down. The promise to one of my patrons felt like an anchor: it was giving me a firm purpose.

When I was cooled down enough to join her for dinner, we ate in silence, listening to the local bard play a tune on her flute.

Listening to the rise and fall of the notes, I realized this was a song I knew the lyrics of;

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

This song was often sung out loud, to the toasts and hurrahs of burly Nord men. But in this inn, it was played on a flute; a slower, almost comforting song that carried the promise of someone out there rising to protect the people.

I was no Dragonborn; I knew that for sure. But at the same time, the song was inspiring, even in its quietest and gentlest rendition.

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

A song about ending evil… of darkness passing. I sipped my Stros M'Kai rum. It was a bit of an expensive purchase so far away from Hammerfell, but the need for a taste of home was strong tonight, considering where my dark thoughts prowled. Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone said that something sinister lay on the horizon. And then I find the traumatized daughter of a vampire lord who plans to put out the very sun. Divines, I swear Jarl Idgrod is the embodiment of understatement.

Serana's expression was deeply troubled as she ate, and I felt it was best not to disturb her thoughts. I had a feeling that what I had said had clicked something into place in her mind. She needed time to adjust her worldview to the new information I had dumped on her.

Consciously or unconsciously, her thoughts would be comparing what I said with what had happened in the past. I could only hope that I would be cast in a more favorable light.

The silence continued into our room, where Serana still chose the sleep roll on the floor. But once the door closed and the light extinguished, Serana murmured shyly, "Good night, Lasirah."

I smiled, just a little. "Good night."