A/N: Hello all, chapter 7 of this Skyrim fic. I'm pleased to announce that things will start to get more intimate very soon. I know, seven fucking chapters and I haven't even really gotten to the good shit yet. Feel free to yell at me XD

Also, an original character does make his appearance this chapter.

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.

*Rain*

Alana sighed as she walked through the pine forest of Falkreath. Her last two contracts for Nazir had taken her a few days to complete, and she was glad to be back in the hold. Even if the skies opened up upon her arrival.

The first contract given to her, killing a talentless excuse of a bard named Lorbuk in the city of Morthal, provided very little excitement. Nazir wasn't kidding when he said the Orc was by far the worst bard in all of Skyrim and everyone wanted him dead; the idiot tried to charm her with possibly the worst song her ears ever had the misfortune of hearing, and even the innkeeper pointedly turned her back when she saw the blonde reach for her sword.

The second contract though was much more exciting. Her target was a fellow vampire named Hern, and the man provided a better fight than Alana initially anticipated; the edge of his axe did manage to cut through part of her armor, tearing the flesh underneath the tight leather. The wound was shallow, but the blonde's pride as a fighter was damaged somewhat; she hated that a weak vampire of Hern's standing was capable of landing a blow on her, when she had fought through entire legions of Imperial soldiers without so much as a scratch on her.

With one hand on her greatsword's handle and getting wet from the rain, she found herself more at ease once the Sanctuary's black entrance loomed into view. The dark flowers of nightshade that were blooming around the shadowy pool outside it were beautiful, the silky petals glistening with droplets of crystal clear water. 'Beautiful, but deadly. Fits the flower and two members of the Sanctuary.'

She had hoped that her two contracts would help clear her head when it came to dealing with the emotions that ravaged her mind. The feelings that surfaced whenever she thought of Astrid made her want to scream at the heavens in frustration, for she didn't know how to deal with them. Her urges seemed to be more than that of common lust; rather, they were that of longing. 'Why!? Why do I have to feel like this towards her!?'

The black door swung open when Alana approached, and the vampire was immediately met by Astrid. 'Dammit. Not now.'

"We need to talk," the blonde leader said assertively.

Alana remained quiet, trying to fight the hunger and desire that boiled in her core. 'I'm not going to last!'

"Look, you are now the Listener," Astrid said. "And if you were told by the Night Mother to go to Volunruud, we'd be fools to ignore it. I'd say you go. Speak to this Amaund Motierre."

"Anything else you want?" Alana asked quietly, focusing her gaze on the floor to avoid staring at her mistress's body.

"Yes…there is." Astrid began to smirk in a dangerously seductive manner and strutted towards her. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Alana's body began to get very hot, and her pulse quickened when Astrid's hand touched her pale cheek. "I…I…"

The simple touch provided a spark, and her stomach churned. Her insides quivered in anticipation, and her eyes widened in shock when Astrid's lips hovered precariously close to hers. 'She can't be serious! Is she really going to do what I think she is!?'

"What are you waiting for, girl?" Mephala taunted. "You know you want to. Your heart is yearning for her to push you against the wall and capture your lips with her own. Maybe slip her fingers between your legs to satisfy that ever-voracious sexual appetite of yours too, hmm?"

'Go away!' Alana really despised the damn Daedric Prince during moments like these.

Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst, and she felt both relieved and disappointed when Astrid backed away from her and let her hand fall from its place. The blonde leader turned away with a soft chuckle, giving her an amused half-lidded stare. "I'll let you figure it out yourself, dear."

She headed into her own chambers, shutting the door behind her, and Alana rested against the cool stony wall. She was breathing heavily, and she tried to calm her racing nerves. The woman's mere presence was enough to drive her crazy with desire, and the vampire didn't know how she managed to resist claiming her for her own. 'Madness. This is utter madness. It's as if she's aware I'm lusting for her.'

She wouldn't deny it; Astrid was very attractive. But if there was one thing the vampire knew, it was that she didn't want Astrid to get close to her. Being the walking disaster she was, it would only lead to pain and suffering, and Alana had seen enough of both to last a lifetime. 'Even if this is more than lust, you can't afford to get close to her, and you know it. So get those damn thoughts out of your head.'

She sighed and headed off on her own way to talk to Nazir about payment for the two contracts she just completed. The money provided was more than enough for the low-risk assassinations, and like Nazir promised, they kept her busy.

The Redguard was waiting for her in the back of the Sanctuary, and he was drinking some fine wine from a silver goblet. "Please tell me that Lorbuk is dead."

Alana nodded quietly, and Nazir let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Sithis. The only good bard is a dead one, as far as I'm concerned. All that singing and mirth gets under my skin. And no sarcastic remark on your killing of Hern. It's not easy to kill one of your kind, you know."

He handed over the gold, and before the blonde could finish pocketing it, he leaned forward with curiosity. "While you were gone…I happened to overhear a little conversation that damn jester had with Festus. Apparently, you're our new Listener. This is interesting news."

"What's it to you?" Alana growled, her right hand never leaving the handle of her heavy sword.

"Before the arrival of you and Serana," he began, "this Sanctuary was a mess. We had abandoned the Old Ways. Astrid was becoming increasingly more frustrated. Gold wasn't piling in as quickly as it used to, and the Initiates we had were far too…unsavory, so to speak. It looked like the Dark Brotherhood, the family that saved me from myself, was doomed to fall. And then, I hear the news of a vampiric Nightingale who slaughtered Grelod the Kind, and suddenly our fortunes turn with your arrival."

"What are you trying to say, Nazir?"

"Nothing," he answered, casually smirking. "But do be careful around Astrid. Someone we both know isn't going to be very pleased if they suspect she's having an affair with a vampire."

He didn't say who, but Alana knew damn well who he was talking about; she felt his piercing glare on her every time their paths met. 'You're not talking about Serana. You're talking about that damned werewolf.'

Arnbjorn always stared at her with pure venom in his eyes, especially when he saw her interact with Astrid. Hatred, jealousy, and anger were permanent fixtures in his cold glare, and yet he never said a word to her. There simply wasn't a need to; the ancient feud between their kind reached a new level, and both understood why.

And yet, despite the disgust the two had for each other, neither raised a blade to the other. It was as if they were playing a game to see who would make the first move and snap.

'Ha. As if I'd let such a filthy creature lay a single claw on me.' Alana scoffed. Dispatching Arnbjorn in combat wouldn't be easy due to his inhuman strength, but her unnatural speed was greater than his, and her overall fighting capabilities were far superior to the werewolf's. 'His body might be bigger, but he's slow with that rusty battleaxe of his; I could decapitate him before he even finishes a swing.'

And yet as much as Alana would love to have an opportunity to get rid of him, she knew that the Five Tenants prohibited it unless Arnbjorn turned out to be a traitor to the Brotherhood. 'For now, do nothing. It's not worth the hassle.'

She frowned, thinking about the name of the person the Night Mother told her to meet. 'Amaund Motierre…'

'Dammit, why does it sound so familiar?'

Alana panted for breath as she rested her heavy sword on her shoulder. Just trying to find the damn ruins was bad enough; she was a whole two holds away from Falkreath and now in The Pale with a heavy blizzard on the way. The snow was beginning to fall, and she doubted she could manage to clear it with Clear Skies if it started to get as heavy as she thought it would.

And upon her entry to the ancient Nordic tomb, she was immediately ambushed by a skeleton intent on separating her head from the rest of her body. One swing of her claymore was enough to reduce it to a pile of dusty old bones, and it tired her out. She was worn out, partially from her lack of feeding and partially from the long journey that took an hour.

The vampire leaned against the stony wall, pushing her hair back with a free hand. 'Come on, pull yourself together. You came all this way to find the bastard. You can make it a little further.'

She shook her head and headed deeper into the tomb, turning to her left and bristling when she saw a Breton man and an Imperial soldier standing guard. 'Is this an ambush!?'

Alana was prepared to draw her sword and cut the Imperial coward down when the Breton opened his mouth. "By the almighty Divines. You've come. You've actually come. This dreaded Black Sacrament thing…it worked."

Alana released the grip on her sword, no longer tense when she realized Motierre wasn't a threat or trying to ambush her. "The Night Mother has heard your pleas, Motierre."

"Yes, um…so it would seem," he replied, looking a little uneasy when he made eye contact with her. "Well, I won't waste your time. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the work I'm offering has more significance than anything your organization has experienced in, well, centuries."

"Go on." Alana folded her arms.

"As I said, I want you to kill several people," Amaund started to explain. "You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied."

He began to smirk, as if the thought of cutting lives short appealed to him in a sickeningly twisted way. "I'm sure someone of your disposition will probably even find it enjoyable. But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt. For I seek the assassination of…the Emperor."

"Leaders rise and fall. Business is business." Alana shrugged, trying to not show much emotion in regards to hearing the shocking revelation. 'By the gods, he wants the Brotherhood to kill the Emperor!? But they haven't tried that since Pelagius!' It certainly was ambitious beyond her imaginings.

"Oh, wonderful," Amaund said, sighing in relief. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that."

He began to rub his dainty hands gleefully, as if he could see the dead corpse of the Emperor already before him. "So much has led to this day. So much planning, and maneuvering. It's as if the very stars have finally aligned. But I digress. Here, take these to your, um…superior."

He beckoned with his hand to the Imperial guard standing behind him. "Rexus. The items."

The Imperial soldier handed her a note and a jeweled amulet, his eyes betraying nothing. "Here."

"The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable. You can use it to pay for any and all expenses," Motierre informed.

Alana nodded, pocketing the note and looking over the amulet with a curious glint in her eyes as she started to leave. It was quite pretty, and didn't doubt Motierre's claim that it was valuable. But just how much was it really worth? 'Curious…'

And why the hell did it seem so familiar to her?

Once Alana made her way back to the Sanctuary, she saw Astrid waiting for her. The blonde woman was standing behind her large desk, and she looked up upon hearing the vampire's footsteps. "Did you speak with Motierre? What did he want?"

"He…he wants us to kill the Emperor," Alana answered.

"You're joking, right?" Astrid raised an eyebrow in skepticism, clearly not believing her.

"I wish." Alana reached into the pockets of her tight armor and fished out both the amulet and the note the Breton noble gave to her.

"What's this?"

"The letter explains it all. The amulet is for expenses."

"By Sithis, you're not joking." Astrid took both items, letting her fingertips gently brush the palm of Alana's exposed hands. She noticed the slight shiver the vampire gave at her touch and smirked. "To kill an Emperor of Tamriel…the Dark Brotherhood hasn't done something like that since the assassination of Pelagius. In fact, no one has dared to attempt to assassinate an Emperor since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was over two hundred years ago."

"We'll accept it?" Alana asked.

Astrid let out a laugh. "You're damn right we'll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood with have gained a respect and fear we haven't had in centuries. Do you think I'll abandon a chance to lead this Family to glory? But there's so much planning to do. I need to read this letter, understand where we need to go from here. And this amulet…hmm."

She frowned, observing it with a curious glint in her eye. "I think we need to learn just how valuable this pretty little item is. how much it's worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. But with my fence Delvin Mallory dead and the Thieves Guild in ruins, I don't know anyone else who can give me the information I need. Do you know anyone?"

A name suddenly popped into Alana's head. "Yes. Saoron. He's a Breton, and lives on the island of Solstheim." 'He'd know. He knew everything that went on in the Imperial City; he has more information about what moves on the streets than the rats themselves. If anyone can tell us what this damned amulet is worth, it's him.'

"Saoron? I've never heard that name. Are you sure we can trust him?" Astrid asked.

Alana nodded. "If there's one person apart from Serana I can trust not to betray me, it's him. We grew up together." 'He'd never betray me. He's loyal to those he's close to.'

Saoron was Alana's closest friend when she still remained in the Imperial City. The two were as thick as thieves, often getting into minor mischief together as children and even into their teenage years. However, once Saoron became of age, he packed his bags and left the province for the Dunmer colony of Solstheim, an island to the northeast of Skyrim and very close to the island of Vvardenfell.

"Very well then." Astrid opened up the letter and started to read. "I'm sending you out there. Find out what he knows, and come right back. We'll begin preparing immediately."

"Understood."

Alana found a scroll of parchment and a quill, dipping the end of it in ink and writing out a letter to her old friend. 'It's best if I send him a message ahead of time. Just showing up without warning can lead to some complications, and I don't want to drag him into my own mess.'

Once her letter was finished, she sealed with a few drops of wax from one of the many candles lying around the Sanctuary, and she pulled her hood up over her head. "I'll be back as soon as I can, with the information we need."

"Alana, be careful out there." Astrid let a look of concern flash across her features. "Solstheim is a dangerous place, from what I hear, and populated mostly by Dark Elves who worship the Tribunal. They might not take too kindly to you."

Alana understood the hidden message. The Tribunal consisted of the Daedric Princes Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala, and as a vampire she was one of Molag Bal's creations. Boethiah despised everything the Lord of Domination stood for, and so did her followers. If news about her being a vampire broke out during her brief stay on Solstheim, all hell could easily break loose. 'I'll have to be very careful not to reveal what I am.'

For her, being careful was far easier said than actually done. 'Me, careful? Ha. I couldn't be even if my own damned life depended on it.'

"You are though. You're being so careful as to not stay around Astrid too long, it's boring me." Mephala pouted like an Imperial noble who had been spoiled since they were a child. "I don't understand why you keep lying to yourself like this, girl."

'Because now isn't the damned time,' Alana thought back angrily. She left the Sanctuary behind and started to make the quick walk over to the Dead Man's Drink in Falkreath. 'I haven't fed properly in who knows how long, and that alone is puts her in serious danger.'

"You're no fun at all." Mephala let out a dramatic sigh. "Talk about dull and predictable. I thought learning of the plot to kill Titus Mede II would have sparked something inside you."

'Why would it?'

"Well, he is the one who abolished Talos worship throughout the Empire, isn't he?" Mephala pointed out. "Think of it as a quest for revenge for daring to deny you your gods and heritage. He bowed before the Thalmor like a coward."

Alana's blood began to boil at the mention of the Aldmeri Dominion. Their arrogance alone was enough to make her hate them, but for them to have the sheer audacity to try and tell her that Talos was only a mere human and declare war on those who worshipped him like the god he was…

That was made her hate them the most. They killed her parents and made her run up to her homeland, thinking they had won.

And yet, they didn't realize all they did was push her into the arms of Skyrim's true High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. Standing at his side, she slew any who dared to try and get in the way of her personal vendetta against the Dominion. She cut a bloody swathe through countless Imperial troops, winning battles with the fury of a vengeful goddess and the power of the Thu'um at her disposal.

And she wouldn't stop until every last Thalmor soldier, mage, and ambassador was dead. And yet, there was still one thing standing between her revenge and her.

Titus Mede II. The cowardly puppet of the Thalmor.

But, she couldn't do it alone. Even with her current arsenal of weapons, her Ebony Greatsword was nowhere near powerful enough to complete such a monumental task as wiping out the Dominion.

No, she needed something else. Something bigger, sharper, and heavier. 'I'll need that one. The sword forged by my own father.'

Her father was a respected blacksmith and soldier, the finest smith in the Imperial Legion during his service. He forged an all manner of weapons, from warhammers to axes and maces. His finest work, however, was a giant claymore that he called Requiem. The blade was more than six feet long and a foot thick, making it impractically heavy to everyone but the strongest of warriors. However, no man that tried to heft the large blade was capable of wielding it. Orc Chieftains, Imperial Captains, and mercenary leaders all tried, only for their arms to give out on them.

But Alana wasn't a normal person. Her vampirism gave her incredible physical strength, and her dragon blood gave her additional power. 'I never even tried to lift it, even when it was only starting to be built. Father told me I could, when the time was right. Is this that time, Father?'

But, Requiem wasn't in either Cryodiil or Skyrim. Instead, the blade was smuggled out by Saoron, who had since hidden it on a request from Alana before she left the Imperial City. Only he knew where the blade was, giving her another reason to want to visit him on Solstheim.

Alana walked into the inn, her hood covering her eyes to not alarm the local drunkards. The innkeeper was wiping the counter with a rag, and she looked uneasily at the blonde.

"W-what can I get for you?" Her voice quivered with fear, and Alana pulled out the letter she had written.

"I need a letter delivered to someone in Solstheim. See to it at once," Alana replied. She placed a small bag of gold and the letter on the counter, and let her eyes peek out from under her hood. "And a bottle of Nord mead."

"As you wish, ma'am."

"Thank you."

She was starting to like the feel of alcohol burning her throat.

Saoron let out a heavy breath as he took a seat at one of the many tables in The Retching Netch Corner Club, the only inn in the small Dunmer colony of Raven Rock. The Breton man had been fighting those cursed beings known as Ash Spawn with the Redoran Guard all day, and it took many long hours to push back the constant onslaught. 'Damn things are harder to kill than I thought.'

Captain Veleth, the commander of the Redoran Guard in Raven Rock, came in and handed him a Glass Sword. "Here you are, friend. Councilor Arano asked me to make sure you got this as a reward for your service in assisting the Redoran Guard."

Saoron took the blade, nodding in approval. "I see it's Glover's work. Thank you, Captain. Let's hope the damn Ash Spawn don't attack for a few days and the men can get some much-needed rest; there are a lot of wounds to heal."

His prowess in the Restoration School was a blessing for the elite soldiers on the island; the constant attacks from the Ash Spawn meant more and more wounded soldiers, and the brunette Breton was only too happy to offer his healing services as well as his blade.

"You and me both," Veleth chuckled. "Well, I must be off. Patrols to organize, weapons to sharpen. Makes me resent being commander occasionally."

Saoron laughed, and he removed his Dwarven Sword from the belt on his steel armor and replaced it with the new weapon. "Balanced, lightweight, and sharp." 'Perfectly made. Old Glover may be part of the now-defunct Thieves Guild, but he certainly is a master with the hammer and anvil. He's a vital citizen here.'

He pulled off his steel gauntlets, resting them on the table, and looked up when he heard footsteps running towards him. It was a courier, and the Imperial man looked exhausted. "I've got a letter for you."

Saoron's eyebrow rose. "From who?" 'Who'd be sending me a letter? Father, perhaps? But he doesn't even know where I went.'

"Dunno. Blonde woman, huge sword," the courier replied, leaning over and gasping for breath. "Told me to make sure it got into your hands."

He handed over the letter, and Saoron opened it up to read its contents. 'Saoron, I have something that requires your expertise. I'm coming to Raven Rock in a few days; make sure we're alone.' He recognized the strange bird mark on the bottom of the letter, and knew who it was from.

'Alana? I've been wondering what happened to her. Glad to know the girl's alive.' Saoron folded it and slid it into one of the compartments in his armor. "Thank you for delivering this."

He stood up and approached the innkeeper Geldis, who was wiping out a glass with a cloth. "Geldis, I need a favor."

"Ah, Master Saoron. What can I do for you?" the Dunmer asked.

The Breton glanced around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Can you close the bar early three days from now? Don't worry about your losses; I have enough gold to cover them." 'If Alana needs information, it's something that isn't for everyone's ears. Makes me wonder what in Oblivion she managed to get her hands on.'

"Sure. But why, if you don't mind me asking?" Geldis asked curiously.

"…let's just say an old friend has something not for everyone's ears."

"I understand." Geldis nodded, and Saoron walked out of the corner club to see a single crow waiting for him on the roof of Glover's forge. He brushed a few of his brown locks aside, raising his hand and letting the bird land on his hand.

"It's certainly been a long time, Alana."

A/N: That's all for this one. I know, some of you are getting your pitchforks and torches and demanding I make smut already. Well…patience, I promise we'll have some soon, okay? Put down the torches…(ducks one thrown at me) That's the opposite of what I said!

Discord: DPL #5371