A/N: I was kinda drinking while playing Skyrim, and I thought this would be really fun to do; a dark, angsty female Dragonborn and Astrid trying to get her to open up a bit. I'm using my actual character for this, (Nord/vampire, lv. 56), and my interpretation of her character. Dragonborn/Astrid, and I added another power that I'm a little annoyed you can't get (shape-shifting) for both Serana and Dragonborn.

Shadows of the Heart

Summary: Alana was shaken after being betrayed time after time by the people closest to her thanks to her misfortune. Yet she keeps getting pushed into trying to open up by the seductively dangerous leader of the Dark Brotherhood.

*Harbinger*

Windhelm

Alana stood up on top of the Aretino house in Windhelm, her golden eyes hidden beneath her Nightingale hood. Her cape flapped in the wind, and she kept her head lowered as she jumped down to inspect the lock on the front of the wooden door. 'It's a relatively easy lock to pick. Nothing I can't break into nowadays.' Her hands moved quickly as she inserted the lockpick, and in a few seconds, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. 'Easy. One thing that I'm thankful for learning how to do.'

She carefully closed the door behind her, removing her hood and letting her blonde hair free. It was sticky from being cooped inside the hood all day, as her vampire blood cursed the sun more than the most anti-Talos Thalmor did to the hero-god, and Alana lowered her sullen gaze as she slowly walked into the house. 'This kid is being serious about trying to contact the Dark Brotherhood.'

The blonde vampire could hear the sound of a young boy repeatedly yelling, "Die, Grelod, die," and she let out a scoff of contempt as she stumbled across a boy sitting on the floor. 'I bet it's some supposedly abusive stepmother or older sister.' He had assembled a body composed of grotesque parts surrounded by candles, and he slowly whispered, "Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

He turned around to see Alana standing quietly, and his jaw dropped, excitement sparkling in his eyes. "Yes! It worked! The Black Sacrament really worked! The Dark Brotherhood has come at last!" The blonde opened her mouth to tell the kid he was sorely mistaken, but closed it, thinking better. With her Nightingale armor, gloves, and boots, she looked the part of a deadly assassin capable of slaughtering an entire army with ease. It was easy to see how one could think that.

Instead, she placed a hand on the hilt of her Ebony Sword, her vampire blood pumping eagerly at the thought of fresh blood. "…who needs to die?" 'It's been so long since I actually spoke to someone other than Serana. Nearly a month, if memory serves.' Her antisocialism was a product of being betrayed by many of her supposed friends, including Delphine. The Blades member had flown into a rage after she refused to murder Paarthurnax, the dragon on top of the Throat of the World and leader of the Greybeards. And that was only the start of numerous betrayals and attempts on her life.

Urag gro-Shub tried to kill her while the blonde was meditating in the central garden of the Arch-Mage's chambers. The priestess of Kynareth, Danica Pure-Spring, attempted to poison her as she sat down at the inn in Whiterun for a drink following a hard day in which she nearly died fighting an Ancient Dragon. Several members of the Thieves Guild also made attempts on her life, including one man she thought she could actually trust, Brynjolf.

Nowadays, with the Guild in ruins and the College of Winterhold currently under control of the Stormcloaks who framed her for murder, Alana practically cut herself off from most of Skyrim, hiding in the wilderness and sticking to the shadows. The only reason she was even in Eastmarch's capital is because she heard rumors from roaming guards about some boy trying to bring the Dark Brotherhood back to murder someone. Otherwise, she would be up in the mountains hunting for deer or fox, and while her blood wanted to feel violent thrills, the blonde was quite tempted to walk away and pretend she didn't hear a damn thing.

"Grelod the Kind, at the Orphanage in Riften," the boy answered. His expression turned to hatred, and he spat at the makeshift body. "I hate her! She's cruel! She abuses us! Please…I don't care how, but kill her! Make her suffer if you want." His eyes started to water, and he wiped them, sniffling and reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out a small amulet. "I know it's not much…but accept this as payment; I'm sure you can fetch a good price for it. And whatever you do, please don't kill the Constance, Michel; she's actually really nice."

Alana quietly took the item, placing it in her pocket and pulling her hood back up. Before she left the Aretino residence, her hand brushed the Amulet of Mara that was hidden inside her Nightingale armor, and her golden eyes started to water. The cruelest betrayal of them all was when her own bride killed their Housecarl and tried to do her in as well whilst asleep; Alana had woken up to find her standing over her with an Ebony Dagger in her hands, and it was only her waking up from a horrible nightmare that probably saved her life. After that, the blonde stopped interacting with the people of Skyrim, and ran away to live her life in the unforgiving tundra. 'Camilla…why? Why did you do it?'

She stepped back into the windy province, thankful that the last rays of sunlight were finally beginning to sink behind the horizon; her blood wouldn't burn and derive her of most of her vampiric powers with it turning to night. 'The sun's gone down…I remember when Serana and I used to sit on the balcony of Castle Volkihar and watch the sunset.'

Serana had aided Alana when she found out the blonde went into hiding; she cleared out a cavern for the two of them to live, with the black-haired vampire being exiled for Vingalmo's death shortly afterwards, having discovered the treacherous elf's plot to murder her and seize the throne. Right now, Serana was hunting in a small farming village southwest of Ivarstead, and promised to bring back several cattle for them to feed on and ward off sun damage.

The two friends had hid in a cavern just to the northwest of Falkreath. At the time they discovered it, it was populated by several bandits who made it their hideout. But even still, the women had no trouble quickly and quietly killing them while the idiots rejoiced in some crappy raid. The fur mats weren't the most comfortable things in Tamriel to sleep on, especially compared to the luxurious beds of Castle Volkihar, but it was far better than risk sleeping outside and dying of exposure or an ambush by a Frostbite Spider, Troll, or Ice Wraith. And even though they lacked cozy blankets, they kept a surprising amount of warmth when occupied during daylight.

The young Nord's cape fluttered behind her, a light dusting of snow forming on her shoulders, and she walked up to the carriage driver just outside of Windhelm. She handed him 20 gold coins, pointing to the map the driver carried. "Riften…" 'I hate it. Serana was dragged down to exile because of me. If she didn't get involved…she wouldn't be out here in the tundra with me, reduced to being homeless.'

"Climb in the back and we'll be off," the carriage driver replied after counting the coins. Alana nodded, and she climbed into the back of the carriage, shivering as an icy wind rolled down from the mountains above Windhelm. Even as a Nord and having vampire blood, she still felt cold in her armor, and she tucked her knees into her chest in an attempt to keep warm. 'What I wouldn't give to feel a lover's embrace right now…it's been too long. Even though Serana does try her best…it's not the same.'

It was often that the black-haired vampire would have to comfort her during their daytime sleeps, due to the blonde's constant nightmares. And many times, the only way Alana could get any rest was if Serana rubbed her back and brushed her hair. Something about her was comforting, like a mother would be to her daughter.

In the front, the carriage driver attempted to break the ice and make some sort of conversation. "This is great weather for a ride. The winds aren't too strong and the scouts haven't reported any dragon activity. And I'm sort of confused to why anyone would want to go to Riften nowadays; the Jarl herself has put a bounty on a 'Nightingale Agent' who apparently killed everyone in the Thieves Guild and Mjoll the Lioness, and the city's been deserted apart from the Orphanage and the Stormcloaks. Only problem is no one knows what a Nightingale looks like; people think they're just myths. Even so, one can't deny there's a murderer walking in that sinister city's streets."

Alana lowered her eyes as the horse began to trot away from Windhelm, letting her head rest against the side of it. 'They're looking for me…Vex, Delvin and Rune died trying to hold the rest of them off so I could get away. As for Mjoll, she was slaughtered by Brynjolf after he failed to kill me and tried to lure me out.' "…" She had made sure that Brynjolf met his end at the hands of Mephala's Ebony Blade, his blood restoring the sword to its full power. The Daedra laughed gleefully as the blonde sank the sword into his chest, and she encouraged her to use it on everyone else who betrayed her to give them a taste of their own medicine; the bitch thrived and got off on meddling with mortal affairs of deceit. 'Why me? What in the name of Oblivion did I do to deserve this fate? Is it because I helped the Daedra? Or became a vampire?'

Alana had everything after she defeated Alduin; she owned plots of land in The Pale, Falkreath, and Hjaalmarch. She was a commander of the Stormcloak army and one of Ulfric's few Thanes. She saved Serana from being murdered by her own father in his shortsighted lust for endless power. And yet, almost as soon as her rise to glory started, it fell off of a cliff. No one alive apart from Serana knew her whereabouts. 'Where did everything go so wrong?'

The carriage driver looked back at her, and then shrugged his shoulders as he cracked the reigns again. "Not much of a talker, huh? I've found that those people usually have the more…interesting stories, if they ever do speak. I wish I could remember the name of this Nord girl who came by about a year ago; she was something else. Brilliant sword master; she was responsible for leading the Stormcloaks to victory and killing General Tullius. Looked a lot like you, except not as pale. Her eyes weren't gold either; they were the most beautiful blue I've laid my own eyes upon. Like the color of the sea after a storm. You don't happen to have a twin sister, do you?"

Alana shook her head quietly, keeping her eyes on the floor. 'I'm nowhere near the girl who discovered her ability to speak in the tongue of dragons. She was so bright, full of compassion for her homeland and more than happy to defend those who she cared about. I've become a shadow of my former self.' Her Shouts had decreased in power, as did most of her magic; it took a ton of effort just to perform a simple Destruction spell such as Sparks. Her enchanting was nowhere near as powerful as it used to be, either; she kept making mistakes that one with her abilities shouldn't. Her most recent attempt to enchant her Daedric Bow with fire damage ended horribly, with the Arcane Enchanter nearly blowing up in her face.

"I wonder what happened to her; she went off of Skyrim's radar a few months ago," the man shrugged. "Don't understand why, for the girl had it made big time. More gold than one could dream of, skills in combat that would make Talos himself jealous, and beauty to place anyone under her spell."

Alana looked up, her hood falling from her head as she felt a surge of hunger gnaw at her. "When you reach the peak…the only place to go is down." 'It's been days since I last fed. Sometimes, I don't even think it's worth it.'

"You know…now that I think of it, you sound really similar to her," the driver said slowly. "I recall her wearing the same kind of black armor, too. It can't be…" He took a long look at the blonde, stopping the horse, and he gasped as a flaming arrow struck him in the back. As his body slumped into the ground, Alana leapt to her feet, flipping backwards as another arrow soared over her head.

Her sword was in her hand, and she spotted a small group of Thalmor agents, all three of them holding Elven Bows in their hands. "Burn the vampire!"

They fired their arrows, and Alana spun her sword in her hands, deflecting them. 'I hate them. Even more than I despise the Imperials and werewolves. Altmer don't deserve to live in this world.' The arrows soared harmlessly away from her, and the Thalmor looked at each other as she slowly walked towards them, sword in hand. "Damn! She's stronger than she looks!"

Alana's cape flapped in the wind, and she heard a familiar howl from the mountains before a black wolf leapt down, sinking its teeth into the leg of one of the elves. She watched the lone predator tear it off, and she met its golden gaze briefly before spinning to her left. An Elven Sword missed her side by inches, and Alana looked into the hate-filled eyes of the Altmer wielding it. 'What the hell makes you so high and mighty? Who says you can tell others how to live their lives? Nothing but cowards, all of you.' Her sword sliced his throat, and the blonde pushed his corpse away.

The wolf continued to tear its prey to pieces, the elf screaming, and Alana threw her sword at the remaining Thalmor, the blade striking her in the back. 'Pitiful excuses of beings. I'll send you all to the depths of Oblivion.' The Altmer sank to the ground in a heap, and Alana retrieved her sword, sheathing it and looking at the wolf. "Hi Serana…"

The wolf transformed into the black-haired vampire, and she rested her hand on her hip. "Always some kind of trouble following you, huh?"

Alana sighed, looking down at the snowy ground stained red with Altmer blood. "I tell you all the time to keep your distance…I'm just going to bring you pain and misfortune." 'I was born extremely unlucky, and yet you still stay close near me. Why? It's not just because your blood has incredible luck.'

"And I care why? Your power doesn't affect me like it does everyone else," Serana reminded. "Besides, your ability to bring misfortune comes in handy when in a battle."

She placed her hands on the blonde's shoulders, and she looked away, unable to meet her friend's gaze. "And I wish I wasn't born with it…" 'Even my ability to shape-shift is bad luck; I don't turn into anything that's supposedly good.' Her power to transform into an animal was a gift very rarely seen amongst vampires, even those considered pure-blood. Serana's father, Harkon, was the only other pure-blooded vampire capable of transforming into another creature; in his instance, he turned into a large and powerful monster that was a horse with the upper half a human-like creature stuck where the saddle would be.

"Don't…" Serana gave her a hug, running a hand through Alana's soft hair. "It's not your fault that misfortune follows you like a hungry fox, you know. You didn't exactly ask for everything to happen."

Alana leaned into her embrace, and she closed her eyes, the golden orbs threatening to burst. "I'm sorry…if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be dragged into this mess." 'Some friend I am…I brought down the one person I cared about as much as my own bride.'

"If it weren't for you, my own father would've killed me," Serana reminded. "I think I owe you my life on two separate occasions. When my father tried to kill us and seize Auriel's Bow, and when we first met. Remember those vampire hunters who wanted to kill me and use the Elder Scroll for their own selfish purposes? If you didn't decide to stumble around in some dark cave in the middle of nowhere, then who knows what would've happened to me." Her hand slid up and down the blonde's back in an effort to comfort her, and she gave a small smile. "Remember what you said to me before we went out to look for that Moth Priest?"

"You started it…"Alana mumbled, taking a deep breath. "You set yourself up for a sex joke that time. 'Turns out you don't learn much about things just by sleeping with them'…"

Serana rolled her eyes, a hint of pink on her pale cheeks. "I suppose it didn't help that I got to know you pretty well in my father's bedroom later on. Real romantic for a rather flustered and rushed one-night stand."

The blonde looked away, feeling slightly guilty about the fact she had an affair. "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable…"

Serana shook her head, brushing her hair slowly. "Far from it. It was nice to feel wanted for change. Like someone genuinely cared about me. My own parents didn't give a damn. You saw how my mother is. I'd almost have no mother than have her. Right now, I don't consider her family; I don't exactly feel like catching up, either." She let Alana go, pulling her hood down to let her pale skin breathe. "So, where are you going?"

"Riften…" Alana replied quietly. "To kill Grelod the Kind."

The black-haired vampire looked at the dead horse and carriage driver, and she raised an eyebrow. "Well…good luck. I'll meet you inside the city after; I know you'll be okay." She transformed into her wolf form and ran back up the mountains, and Alana sighed as she watched her go. 'There's only one way to get into the city in time.'

She felt her back quiver, and the blonde closed her eyes as she began to shift into her special shape. 'Some gift misfortune is…' Alana turned into her animal, a crow, and she flapped her wings hard, flying south. Usually, she only used her shape-shifting power whenever she was inside a place where people traveled frequently. As a crow, she could hide in plain sight easily, as no one passing by would think twice about seeing a bird of bad luck.

She flew over the tundra, gliding under the cover of night, and when she was well within The Rift, she landed on the ground, panting. The blonde looked up at a tree as another crow landed on it, and as she walked away, she heard a branch fall behind her. 'Luck…please. I have never had it.' The crow let out a loud caw, and it flew over to her, landing on her shoulder. Its black feathers were soft to the touch, and Alana petted its back slowly. "Wait for me outside the gate; if anyone shows up, let me know."

The bird took off again, several glossy feathers falling to the ground. Alana felt her Ebony Sword on her waist, and she drew it as she walked towards Riften, her black armor blending in with shadowy forest. Her long torn cape was trailing on the ground, making leaves rustle, and before long she found herself staring at the gate surrounding the city. It was more defended than it had been since she fled it, with guards patrolling every section. 'They stepped up security…I don't want to fight, but I might not have any choice.'

She slowly strode towards the gate entrance, and a pair of Stormcloak guards drew their Iron Greatswords. "I'm sorry, but you cannot go on past this point. If you insist on trying to get it, we will have to use lethal force." Alana ignored them, and she stepped one foot closer when the guards pointed their swords at her. "Last warning. Leave now. Or your death shall be arranged swiftly."

Alana stopped, spun her sword into a backwards grip, and lashed out. Her sword cut through the light Stormcloak armor like bread, and the man fell in two pieces. The remaining guard yelled a furious battle-cry, only to start gurgling as his chest was split in two. Scarlet blood splashed out, and Alana pushed his corpse aside before entering the city.

Riften used to be quite busy, with the Temple of Mara having gained popularity due to holding the wedding of the Dragonborn. But now, its streets were eerily quiet and desolate, and the only things that could be heard were the trees rustling and the birds singing their sad songs. The only places that showed signs of life were the Jarl's palace and a large wooden building with a sign outside. Upon closer inspection, it read 'Orphanage', and Alana wiped the blood from her sword before quietly pushing the door open.

The place was an absolute wreck inside. Cobwebs infested every corner, and there was dust everywhere. 'I guess keeping clean isn't one of their priorities.' She crouched down and started to slowly creep through the orphanage until she saw a small child being abused by an old hag of a woman. The child was sobbing hysterically as he was whipped with a belt, and Alana felt her fury grow as she silently crept behind the old woman. 'This is Grelod, is it?'

In one clean and lightning fast movement, she slit Grelod's throat, and the old woman fell in a heap of scarlet. The child looked at Alana standing over the body, and he began to cheer happily. "He did it! The Black Sacrament worked! The Brotherhood has killed Grelod!" Alana turned around quietly, spinning her sword back in its holster, and other children began to creep out of their rooms, pointing and laughing at Grelod's rapidly cooling body. "Haha! Aventus did it!"

The blonde pulled her hood up, and as she passed a dusty window, she saw a crow lightly tapping its beak against the glass. 'Serana's here.' She opened the window to pet its back, her fingers brushing the feathers. "Thank you…" The bird took off, and she jumped into the shadows of a corner as a young woman carrying a tray with glasses passed by. She held her breath, and the woman didn't even look in her direction.

One of the glasses fell from the tray, and she groaned as the shards danced on the wooden boards. "Ugh…it's only a bit of bad luck. Nothing to worry about."

After she passed, Alana let out a small scoff and left the orphanage behind. She was greeted by a patrol of Stormcloak guards, all of them wielding heavy weapons. "By the order of the Jarl, stop right there! You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people! What say you in your defense?"

As the blonde tried to weigh out her options, she heard an amused sadistic female voice in her ear. "Do it. Kill them with my blade. You know you want to. I can feel it." Alana hissed in anger as she felt a dark and heavy presence on her shoulders, and she glared behind her. 'Go. The hell. Away. I am not dealing with you at the moment.'

"Don't try and fight it," Mephala whispered. "I know all about you, after all. You might try and suppress it, but you have an overwhelming desire for revenge on those who've betrayed you. I can taste it. Use their blood to fuel my blade. Your sorrow and anger are your greatest weapons, my dearest. Running away won't do you any good; we wouldn't want that lovely undead girlfriend of yours to get killed as a result, now do we?"

Alana growled, and the Stormcloak captain leading the guards strode a few feet closer to her."You better make up your mind before I decide for you. What's it going to be?"

His heavy battleaxe gleamed, and the blonde watched as Mephala's Ebony Blade appeared in her hands. "Don't you dare…" 'You meddling little bitch. You're enjoying this, aren't you?'

"Of course I am," Mephala giggled maniacally. "Watching you give into your killer instincts gives me a thrill like nothing else. It's so tempting to join you in Tamriel and show my physical form to you; I doubt you could keep those lustful hands of yours off me." The blonde could feel her tongue lick the back of her neck, sending chills up her spine. "Just like you couldn't resist Serana, even though you were married."

"Go. Away." Alana tightened her grip on the Ebony Blade, its length glowing red with the blood of deceit that was used to restore its power.

The Stormcloak captain looked at his soldiers, and he shrugged his shoulders. "It seems you've made up your mind. Very well. Fight well and join our ancestors in Sovngarde." He swung his heavy axe, only for it to clang against the razor sharp sword. A small crack appeared in the axe's handle, and Alana jumped backwards as a pair of soldiers tried to attack her from the side. Their swords missed, and the men gasped as they accidentally impaled each other fatally.

"Do you still desire to fight?" Alana whispered quietly, looking at the stunned captain.

He looked at his men lying dead on the ground, and he turned back to glare at the blonde. "You're that damn Nightingale, aren't you? The bastard who murdered Mjoll in cold blood, and a servant of the Daedra. I cannot allow you to walk away without paying for your crimes!"

"Then your fate is sealed." Alana hated sending her own kinsmen to the afterlife, especially when the idiot could just walk away. And the bitch who constantly stalked her loved it; Mephala probably played with herself every time she watched the blonde kill someone. 'I hate it when she's right. I can't stand the bitch, and yet she knows I can't stop from giving in. For one having the blood of a dragon…I'm such a weakling mentally.'

The Stormcloak went to swing his axe when Alana heard a loud crack, and she rolled out of the way as part of a house crashed down. The soldier was buried underneath the rubble, having been crushed to death, and the Ebony Blade vanished from her hands as she left the scene behind. "I told you, my dear. There's no point in trying to fight it; no matter where you go, misfortune is bound to your body. Even if you don't want to fight, you'll still end up with blood on your hands."

"Shut up!" Alana placed her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out Mephala's amused laughter. "I didn't ask for this to happen…" 'I wish Camilla did kill me. Better to be dead than be forced to live bringing bad luck to everyone I care about.'

She felt someone touch her shoulder, and she whirled around to see it was Serana, the black-haired vampire looking concerned. "Mephala is still stalking you, isn't she? And I thought Molag Bal was a pain to deal with; the bitch really doesn't know when to give up."

Alana lowered her gaze, and Serana looked over at the scene outside. "You didn't even touch them, did you? Either killed by each other or by…well, bad luck." She noticed Alana flinching, and she put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't. It's not your fault. You didn't ask for it. Bad things sometimes just happen."

Serana gave her cheek a gentle kiss, motioning her head over to the city gates. "Come on; I have some prey waiting, we don't want the entire Riften Brigade coming after us now." The blonde followed her out, and not a minute too soon; most of the soldiers on patrol were already making their way towards the pile of bodies outside. '…not my fault. It doesn't matter; I still caused it.'

'Nothing more than a harbinger.'

A/N: Next up, Alana meets Astrid. For some reason, I really like the idea of Mephala stalking Dragonborn and tormenting her. I wanted one of Alana's active magical abilities to be misfortune because it makes things more interesting; having good luck all the time is pretty boring. It might be a love triangle, might not be. All depends.