Chapter Text
Aria is actually impressed that she doesn't pass out while she's on her horse.
Well, strike that, she may have passed out - things are a little blurry - but at least she didn't fall off Trixie if she did. That would have been not only potentially fatal; but also very embarrassing if she did survive. She gets teased enough by the city guards for her small stature, ("Let me guess, somebody stole your sweet roll?"), she really doesn't need to give them more ammunition.
As hard as it was to get useful information spread around Tamriel, she was quite sure that news of the Dragonborn falling off her horse would spread faster than the news that Ulfric Stormcloak was dead had.
People had weird priorities like that.
Given the fact that she doesn't really know where she is and that her brain doesn't currently have the capacity to figure it out; she lets Trixie take the lead. The horse is usually at least capable of finding her way to a city or some other safe place when she runs off, so Aria can only hope that she does the same with a rider on her back.
Aria's vision blurs in and out as Trixie treks sure-footedly over the mountain pass, but it's of no matter as the darkness settles around them like curtain; even the light of the stars blocked out by the clouds. She's really got no idea where Trixie has taken them until a moonbeam slips from behind the cloud coverage and Aria can make out the familiar foliage of Dayspring Canyon - Fort Dawnguard looming in the distance.
Definitely one of the better destination options considering the bandit caves and Stormcloak camps littering the area.
Tilde is standing watch on the steps of the tower, and Aria doesn't think she's ever been more grateful to see a friendly face in her entire life. She's attempts to slide gracefully off of Trixie's back and into a standing position, but her legs give out between the saddle and the ground, and she tumbles to her knees, her arms barely catching her before her face plows into the concrete steps and it takes Tilde a moment to recognize her before she springs into action; ringing the alarm beside the door and rushing down the steps to Aria's aid.
Isran must have been running those preparedness drills that he always talked about, because the door was thrown open and members of the Dawnguard are rushing out by the time Tilde pulls her to her feet. The world is fading in and out as Aria clutches onto Tilde for support, eyes struggling to focus on the crowd around her. She recognizes Florentius and Sorine before her legs give out again, and strong arms heave her off the ground in a bridal carry. It's Gunmar, if the smells of leather and iron from the forge is any indication, and Aria sighs with relief.
Her head lolls to the side, and she finds herself eye to eye with Serana. She isn't a hundred percent sure that the other woman isn't a figment of her imagination until a warm hand comes up to her forehead, and Aria can feel the magic flowing from the other woman's fingertips.
"Get her inside, she's freezing."
That's definitely Serana's voice, and she sounds pissed.
Which is not good, because Serana can't be mad at her, not now; not after everything that Aria's realized these past few hours.
"Serana . . . " Aria mumbles, reaching out for her friend, but Gunmar is moving; carrying her into the fort and Serana falls behind where Aria can't see her.
No, no, no; Aria has to talk to Serana, has to tell her -
"Serana!" she calls out again, only marginally louder than the last time.
Aria does blacks out then, she's pretty sure - either that or Gunmar moves really fast - because when Aria closes her eyes in a blink she's being carried and when she opens them she's lying on one of the cots in the barracks. Most of the Dawnguard is standing over her; Florentius and Isran are arguing over the best course of action, Gunmar and Declara are planning a hunting party to track down whoever did this to her, and Sorine is muttering to herself about Dwemmer first aid methods.
It's all too, too much, too overstimulating with the way her vision is still blurry around the edges and her ears are still ringing with the shouts of the dragon. So instead, she focuses on the one calming constant; the healing hand on her forehead.
Her eyes track upwards to finally meet Serana's, and it's so easy to lose herself in those light brown eyes. Everything fades away except for the fingers stroking at her hair and the soft warmth enveloping her, and finally; she sleeps.
- - - - - -
When she opens her eyes again, it's much quieter; everyone having apparently left her sick bed for their own devices. It's also nighttime again, judging by the lit torches on the walls and the darkness she can see in the atrium from her bed.
It's not hard to believe that she's slept for almost 24 hours; her body is still sore and aching but she feels significantly better than she did when she fell asleep. At least, minus the pounding headache that's threatening to burst her eardrums with ever beat of her heart.
Groaning, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and pulls herself into an upright position only to find herself directly across from Serana, who's pulled up a chair next to her bedside. The reformed vampire looks all the worse for wear; her cheeks are sunken and hollow and the bags under her eyes are deep and heavy.
She still looks breathtakingly stunning, though, and Aria is about to open her mouth and say as much before a sharp, ice prick of pain shoots through her skull.
"Careful," Serana's voice is soft. "You probably have quite the headache."
"Yeah, quite." Aria agrees, bringing her hands up to brace her temples, the throbbing almost palpable through her fingertips.
"That's my fault, I'm afraid. I healed you a little too fast. To be fair, I was terrified that you would die before I got the chance to heal you, so I kind of just threw everything I had at you."
No wonder Aria's head felt like a mob of Orcs had stomped on it.
A powerful mage like Serana setting caution to the wind with the healing process . . . it's a miracle that Aria's headache isn't worse.
"I may have slipped you a little sleeping potion to help you sleep off the worst of it." Serana confesses, and Aria feels a wave of gratitude.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, well, you know, I thought you were going to die so. . . "
"Sorry about that, I -"
"We'll discuss it later." Serana's tone makes it clear that it's both a threat and a promise. "But for now you probably want to get cleaned up and eat something."
As if on cue, Aria's stomach rumbles.
"Come on, I'll walk you to the bath house and then I'll find you some food while you clean up."
Serana offers her hand to help pull Aria to her feet, and Aria lets herself be led to the small room that Sorine had converted into a Dwemmer style bath house - complete with metal piping and steamy hot running water.
The first time Aria had seen it, she thought the tinkerer had went a little overboard in designing something so complicated just to wash off in, but she'd be lying if she didn't occasionally stop by the fort on her travels for the sole purpose of making use of the facilities.
Serana hesitates at the door, and Aria can see the uncertainty in her eyes. They've been around each other in various states of undress before, so it really should be nothing new; but for some reason Aria feels a little embarrassed asking for help.
"Do you, uh, think you could help me get this jacket off? It's just . . . my shoulder's still kinda stiff."
She shrugs awkwardly with her good arm, and Serana smiles reassuringly before stepping all the way in the room and shutting the door behind her.
It takes some doing, but between the two of them they manage loosen the buckles on her Thieves' Guild armor and work the thick leather jacket down her arms. It's covered in blood (some of it Aria's) and dragon guts; and Serana squinches her nose.
"I will say that it's times like these that I don't really miss the enhanced vampire sense of smell."
Aria laughs, which quickly turns into a groan because while it feels good to be rid of the weight of her armor; it turns out it was actually helping hold her probably broken ribs in place.
Serana frowns, tentatively raising a hand to trace along the purplish green bruise taking up the better part of Aria's upper left arm.
"What happened here?" she asks softly, and if Aria didn't know any better, she'd think Serana sounds almost sad.
"Ahh, that one, I think, is from a bandit who wasn't very well versed in how to use a sword and decided to just hit me with the broadside instead of using the sharp edge." Aria tries to joke, but Serana's face shows a distinct lack of humor.
"So. you're lucky you didn't lose your arm."
"I, uh, yeah. When you put it like that."
"You were near frozen by the time you go here."
"Frost dragon, frost troll, it was snowing . . ." Aria trails off, taking in the growing anger behind Serana's eyes.
"Do you need any more help?" Serana's voice is curt.
"No, uhm, I got it from here . . . I think. Thanks."
The words are barely out of her mouth before Serana's left the room, the door shaking with the force used to close it.
Great, now her head's pounding, her body's sore, and Serana's mad at her.
At least she knows the reason for the first two.
She grits her teeth while she takes off the rest of her clothes, forcing herself to power through the pain. When she finally steps into the shower stall, the water is mercifully hot, and she lets it wash over her body with a sigh.
She's mostly healed from her misadventure, but there are still a few cuts working on closing up and more bruises that are too deep to have faded yet. Healing with magic and potions isn't as effective as good old fashioned time, and her body will be showing (and feeling) the after effects for a few more days.
Aria washes the dirt and twigs out of her hair as best she can with one hand before turning her attention to her body, cataloguing new scars as she washes away the grime. It takes some effort to finally talk herself into leaving the warm spray of water, and most of the convincing is done by her growling stomach.
As she dries off, she sees that her dirty armor has been removed and there's a small pile of clothes on the shelf in the corner. Serana must have snuck them in while she was showering, and Aria makes a mental note to thank her later.
The blue mage robes are soft against her skin, and she pulls the hood up around her face to lock in the extra warmth. Luckily, Serana also saw fit drop off some simple leather slippers, and Aria's beyond grateful to not have to fight with her boots.
A look in the mirrored glass above the sink reveals a tired and beat up looking Imperial, and Aria's definitely looked worse, but she really can't remember when.
She's just lucky to be alive at this point.
Speaking of being alive, that's something Serana seems pretty pissed about. It makes a lot of sense, actually, when she thinks about it. Maybe that's why Serana has been acting so weird as of late, maybe she's disappointed with her decision to go back to being a human. Maybe she's pissed at Aria because she feels like Aria pressured her into it. Whatever the reason for Serana's bad mood, the fact remains that they are both still alive, and that means something at least.
Aria sighs, heavy with the weight of her recent revelation of her feelings for Serana, and finally turns for the door to the compound.
Somehow, she gets the feeling that facing down a dragon would be easier.