A/N: *looks at how long it has been since last update* Um…oops. I lost a lot of work for this story when my laptop broke. So I basically had to rewrite a lot of what I had saved. Sorry it took this long.

Whispers of the Night

Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…

*Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 7*

Deep in the bottom of her newly acquired manor Alana gently rubbed the blade of her zweihander on the grindstone, flashes of sparks burning small spots in the corners of her eyes. While she may not be going back to Skyrim with any intentions of causing a scene, she couldn't think about letting her equipment fall into disrepair. Clad in a simple black apron and pants, she rubbed a bit of sweat out of her face, the sheer weight of Clockwork making it difficult to sharpen it. 'Whoever thinks that sharpening weapons is easy, I want to make them try and sharpen this. I guarantee they'll change their tune.'

The slightly smoky haze from the forge itself wafted towards her and she drew in a slightly ragged breath, taking a moment to clear her throat. The candles by the entrance flickered in the corner of her eye and she briefly glanced over her shoulder to see a familiar leather clad body.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astrid asked silkily, propping one leg up against the doorframe in her usual slouch.

"Always made sure to properly maintain my equipment, since my father once served in the Imperial Army," Alana answered, brushing a few locks of her hair away from her face. "Couldn't risk it in the field when I was in the war."

The vampire merely tutted her teeth, looking at Clockwork's massive size. "You never did care for practicality, did you?"

"Wasn't practical when you met me and I'm not starting now." Alana chuckled a bit at that. "The fact that I'm not is probably the reason I'm still alive."

"Not true," Astrid countered. "There's more to it than that. Your will."

Alana paused from sharpening her sword and turned around on her seat, waiting for Astrid to continue. The vampire's golden gaze met hers and she elaborated more on it. "You acted like you didn't care, but I knew you better than you thought. I knew that there was still a part of you that wanted to be a hero, even if you would never admit it. Not to me or Serana. You wouldn't admit it to yourself. You thought you didn't deserve it. But still something made you keep on fighting against three daedric princes. How many would have that kind of willpower?"

"Perhaps you're right." Alana stood up from the grindstone and lifted her broadsword up to inspect the blade. It was perfectly sharpened, able to cut through armor and flesh with ease. "I guess I wasn't as good at hiding myself from you as I thought."

"No, most definitely not." Astrid practically scoffed at that. "You are an idiot to think I of all people wouldn't notice once I started to know you." Alana had to concede that; Astrid was very observant, having led the Dark Brotherhood for some time now.

"What brought this on?"

"Nothing. I did just intend to come and watch you work. It is quite nice to see how much care you put into each hammer blow. It's almost nurturing."

Alana laughed and rested the zweihander against the closest weapons rack for the moment. Of all the words she'd use to describe herself, nurturing was not one of them. "I think we'll have to agree to disagree on that one. Just doing what needs to be done."

Astrid rolled her eyes but didn't argue with her. "So, do you need to do anything else down here? The ship is being prepared to set sail in three hours en route to Windhelm."

"Not at the moment." The blonde warrior shook her head. "Good thing, too. I still need to get a few things ready." She planned to stop by Milore's farm to pick up a few potions, but when she looked closer at Astrid she noticed something that was a little more important at the time. The vampire's pupils were dilated and the golden hue of her eyes was burning with a feral hunger. She needed to feed. 'She hasn't fed since she killed that priest.'

Without even saying anything Alana adjusted the collar of her apron and tilted her head to the side to expose her neck. "Go on. I know you haven't. Don't worry; you won't turn me."

Astrid's gaze briefly flickered down to soft tender skin and her canines slid from her gums, her wet tongue circling over them. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Alana nodded. 'It's my fault I turned you in the first place. Only right I bear my share of the responsibility.'

Without further need for invitation Astrid dove in hungrily, her canines easily piercing through the flesh. Alana bit back a gasp of pain, though it slowly turned into a drunken purr as she felt the intoxicating wave of numbness creep through her body. One of the few side effects of being bitten by a vampire few lived to tell about was the overwhelming sense of being so at ease. It was almost soothing; she supposed it was in a way, since the undead were able to lure in their prey via unnatural seduction.

After what seemed to be an eternity Astrid removed her lips from Alana's neck, licking up a few extra traces of her blood. "You have quite a sweet taste. I see why Serana was so particularly attached to it." '

"Hmph. You're one to talk." Alana's face was slightly pink, a little ashamed of how much she enjoyed it. She had never been fed on as a human before, only after she had been turned. 'I think I see a reason why some people willingly become thralls. The feeling of being so at ease is more addicting than skooma.'

Astrid merely smirked and kissed the bite marks, slowly dragging her tongue over the punctures. They had already started to close up thanks to her healing ability, but Alana still couldn't help but shiver. The wet fleshy muscle circled over the spot again and she groaned, glaring at her mistress through narrowed blue slits. "Dammit. You're doing this on purpose."

"When do I never?" Astrid shot back slyly, cupping her face. Her lips hovered mere inches away from Alana's own and she tried to hide just how desperate she was to feel her touch again. They were so tantalizingly close, yet Alana made no move towards them. Her eyes shone with a desperate plea and Astrid chuckled.

"So eager, are you?" she whispered huskily. Her fingernails scraped just under her chin as she lifted her head up, a gleam of power shining brightly in her golden gaze. "You know you still need to be punished for what you did."

Alana drew in a rapid breath and bit back a needy whine as Astrid dipped her head down, nipping the length of her collarbone. Each little bite sent a shiver up her spine and she craved more of this sort of affection. It had been over a year since she last had the privilege of experiencing her mistress's touch. By Talos she craved it more than anything right now. But just as she was just beginning to properly enjoy it, Astrid pulled away with a haughty smirk.

"Why did you stop?" Alana complained weakly, heat having flooded most of her body.

"Because that's your punishment," Astrid explained sweetly.

Alana groaned in frustration and lowered her head, pushing her long hair back. "You're terrible." Astrid was always a horrible tease. She took great pleasure in making Alana hot and bothered before something important, whether it be an assassination or an important meeting.

Astrid laughed and gently dragged her fingers through Alana's hair. "Rather soft to the touch."

"Really?" Alana let out a soft purr as her hair was combed. In a way, it reminded her of the times her father would comfort her when she was just a child. "Hmmm…"

"Now who is the one enjoying herself?" The vampire clicked her teeth and continued brushing her hair. "And to answer your question, yes. It adds to what you were already gifted with."

"Do remember I used to be a priestess of Dibella." Alana rolled her eyes and reluctantly pulled away from her mistress's touch. "Do you have everything packed? It's not going to be a short trip, you know."

"Already stored on the Northern Maiden," Astrid replied. "The captain was quite accommodating."

Alana rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the mannequins where her clothes sat. Casting aside her apron she picked up her more favored attire. She pulled the vest over her head and grabbed her broadsword. She put her sword in her holster and went to find her crossbow. She was glad she knew how to craft one after she acquired the blueprints for them in one of the island's dwarven ruins. After fighting for so long without any sort of ranged weaponry, having one was a much needed upgrade. She didn't know how she survived with just a sword in hand.

She found her crossbow and picked up a few dozen steel bolts. While she wasn't looking for a fight it never hurt to be prepared just in case. Skyrim had changed in the year she had been away and there was no telling what dangers lurked in her homeland now.

"How much has Skyrim changed?" she asked. Hopefully Astrid could shed some light on how the situation there had progressed since she left.

"Quite a bit," the vampire answered smoothly. "Dawnstar especially. Used to be a desolate and miserable city; now someone could easily mistake it for Windhelm if they didn't know any better."

"Really?" Alana was surprised to hear it. Dawnstar was one of the smaller ports in Skyrim, being far to the north. Still a fairly decent amount of ships docked there despite the city being known for its bad luck. She remembered helping one of the captains docked there; his crew had lost a batch of finely cut void salts, a very rare alchemy ingredient, in a cave near Hjaalmarch. 'Feels like it happened so long ago. Still, he was willing to pay me a good amount of gold for them.'

"Yes." Astrid nodded. "Though you'll see for yourself when we arrive. It's much easier for you to see it than have me explain."

'One year. One year without me and my homeland has started to flourish again. Maybe it was for the better that I left in the first place?' Alana mused. The Nord shook her head, curling her lip at the thought. 'No. It wasn't right that I left Astrid. I abandoned her when she needed me most. Even if she forgives me for it, I doubt I will anytime soon.'

Alana let out a sigh, combing her hair to the side to let it fall down her left shoulder. Her old worn cape was starting to show the abuse it had been through during her time fighting daedra and reavers; tears were forming on the bottom and there were a few holes in various spots. 'I can't be hung up on it forever. Sooner or later, the time will come where I will have to forgive myself. I can't blame everything on my mistakes.'

"Astrid, let's go," she said quietly, facing her mistress. "I'm going to tell the captain we're going ahead of the initial schedule." She had something she needed to see through and postponing it would only make it more difficult than it already was.

Alana walked over to where Requiem rested and she tore off the thin wrappings covering her father's masterpiece. The blade was still just as sharp as it was when he forged it and Alana took the handle in her hand before lifting it, carrying it over her shoulder with ease. 'I'm coming home, Serana.'

'I have so much I want to say to you.'

Saoron took a break from moving some of Alana's furniture into her new home, wiping a bit of sweat from his face. She didn't have many possessions but those she did were quite valuable. Not in terms of money, but rather what they meant to her. Jewelry that she had crafted for Serana, weapons that had seen some of her greatest triumphs, and a set of armor that she wore on one of the worst days of her life.

He glanced at the set of heavy black armor and shuddered. The metal radiated magicka and not the good kind, either. It reeked of a daedra's influence; the stench swirled around the black steel like a pungent cloud and he didn't know how she could have tolerated it. 'Mehrunes Dagon. You never were pleased that you couldn't lay claim to her soul, were you? Too bad for you; she plans on keeping it now.'

The brunet Breton hadn't seen Alana so at ease in so long. It was unusual for him, especially after the past year of helping her. Usually, if he didn't find her slobbering drunk in the cornerclub then she was on the brink of breaking down in front of him. As a friend who stood by her side even during the worst, it pained him to see her so broken. This change to her after she fell so far was like a splash of cold water in the face. That empty shell of a woman who wanted to die wasn't the Alana he knew and loved like a sister.

This was her. A warrior who would stop at nothing, even in the face of insurmountable odds, to achieve her goals. A woman who would fight with everything she had to protect the ones she loved, and be a compassionate person. But even with her like this, he could still sense her guilt at leaving Astrid behind. 'Just remember you can't blame yourself for everything. Cherish what time you have left.'

Saoron went to take a sip of water when he felt a powerful spike of magical energy. His senses were more honed due to fighting with Alana against daedra, but even he was overwhelmed by its power. It felt just as strong as Alana's, if not more, and he closed his eyes. His hand firmly clasped the handle of a wooden chair, trying to steady himself. 'It's the same power I felt from that woman earlier before in Geldis's cornerclub. Who the hell is she?'

'Whoever she is, she's much more powerful than she looks. I don't sense her being a threat, but if she is, then she'll get a fight if it's what she wants.' Saoron nearly fell when sights of fire and ash filled his mind and his eyes shot open, his had pounding. 'What the hell was that?'

Saoron looked at Alana's belongings and shook his head, grabbing his favored glass sword. Something was wrong and he couldn't put his finger on it. But with Alana and Astrid leaving for Skyrim in only a few short moments, he couldn't risk the town being in serious danger. 'Sorry, Alana. But I have to check this out for myself, if only to understand what is going on and who she is.'

His armor was still being tended to by Glover Mallory, but even then he still had his magic at his disposal. If it came to the worst, he could buy enough time using his magicka reserves to alert the Redoran Guard of the threat. He doubted he could defeat them, but he'd be able to put up at least a half decent fight.

The Breton left Alana's new manor behind and walked through the dusty streets of Raven Rock, closing his eyes to try and pinpoint the source of power. 'I know you're out here. You might as well stop with these damn games and come out.'

He passed by a pair of soldiers standing guard outside of The Retching Netch Cornerclub and his hand rested on the handle of his longsword, amber eyes searching for the person who was responsible. 'Judging by the way you keep fluctuating it, you're not in the town itself. You're in the outskirts. Trying to lure me into a trap?' It was always a possibility that someone was trying to assassinate him, since he was known throughout the settlement as one of the more prominent warriors. However, there was a slim chance that they just wanted to have a talk and be away from any prying eyes.

Saoron didn't drop his guard as he passed the safety of the Bulwark and glanced upwards at the ashy cliffs surrounding the town. The magic at work was much stronger here and he slowly drew his sword. "I know you're there. You can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."

He heard footsteps and jumped back as a pair of feet landed in front of him. He blocked the churned ash from his eyes and saw the same dunmer women he met in the cornerclub. Long red hair, eyes that held the fires of Red Mountain in them, and skin kissed by the sun.

"My, my," she purred, a faint smile on her lips. "You have a rather impressive grasp of magical theory, even for a Breton. Not many can sense me, even arch mages."

"I'm not most people," Saoron retorted. "What the hell do you want?"

"My, aren't you a paranoid one." The dunmer smirked and slicked her hair back. "Rather bold of you to assume that I'm up to no good."

"In my experience, that seems to be a trend that has yet to be proven otherwise." The Breton lowered his sword but did not sheathe it. "So forgive me if I seem a little on edge around powerful strangers." By the Divines, this stranger carried herself with same kind of confident swagger as Alana, only she was quite a bit older. She was still beautiful, but her ruby red gaze shone with old wisdom. For all he knew, she could be a few centuries old. Hell, she probably was.

"Understandable." The dunmer didn't make a move towards him and she stretched her arms above her head, letting her shirt rise up a few inches. "I must say, you do intrigue me a little bit. Haven't met many who I have taken a bit of an interest to."

"And why did you take an interest in me?" he asked, a hint of curiosity slipping into his tone.

"Because you are no mercenary, despite what some of these uncivilized brutes may think," she answered smoothly, a hint of a grimace forming on her lips. "You're a thinker and put the interests of others before your own. That kind of kindness is very rare nowadays, especially considering the tensions between men and mer in recent times."

She caught him a little off guard with that answer. True, Saoron had never been one to be selfish, even as a child. He was always there to support his friends whenever he could, lending a hand to the best of his abilities. "Why do you care?"

The dunmer flashed a smile and took a few steps towards him, her boots leaving a lazy trail in the ash. "Because I saw the compassion you felt for her. She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"Again, why is it your business?" Saoron let out a hiss. "She may not be my blood, but she is kin more than my real family ever was."

"I want to help her," she replied. "If anyone knows what it is like to carry guilt around for a long time, it's me. I've walked the surface of this world for centuries and done many things I'm not proud of."

She let out a wistful sigh, her eyes getting misty as she began to lose herself in memories. "Like leaving my home, for instance. Not a day goes by where I don't think what could have happened, had I stayed in Vvardenfell. Could I have prevented Red Mountain from erupting? Could I have stopped the Oblivion Crisis in Morrowind? So many questions, and not enough answers."

Her story ended almost all of Saoron's initial suspicions. She didn't seem like she meant any harm, but there was something about her that still seemed off. 'What does she mean? How could she have prevented any of those disasters? Just who the hell is she?' "I have one last question for you."

"Are you going to ask to see if I'm a threat?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head. "I just want to know who and what you are. Plenty of things you said didn't make sense. How could you have possibly stopped any of that from happening? Who are you?"

The dunmer smiled again and let an ethereal sword form in her hand, twirling it gracefully with an aura of fire surrounding her. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I'm the Nerevarine."

Saoron stared for a few moments, not even flinching as she walked past him. They were practically back to back and one of her hands found his. The palm of hers was rugged, a sign of her hardships, and she glanced over her shoulder. "Whatever you do, don't lose sight of what drives you. Never lose that compassion. Once you do, it's damn near impossible to find it again."

The Nerevarine lowered her head. "I'm the same as your Dragonborn. For so long, we carried the burden of being the savior of our homeland on our shoulders. And like her, I too once believed that there was nothing good left inside of me. I wanted to run away from it all. But no matter how much alcohol I drank, no matter how much I wanted it to end, it never did. It was then I learned something. I learned that no matter how much guilt I have, no matter how much blood is on my hands, that there is something good inside of all of us. We just have to believe. It doesn't matter how bleak everything seems. As long as we keep believing, we'll eventually be able to see it."

"She's changed. She's not the same person." Saoron shook his head. "She isn't in that mindset anymore."

"Are you sure?" The challenge was subtle in her voice. "How can you be so certain? I know what it's like to bottle everything away so that you don't worry those you care about. It's just an act. Guilt is a burden we both share and even with our minds clear of any outside influence, it's difficult to get rid of it."

"Tell me about it." The brunet scoffed bitterly. "Even if she's changed for the better, I couldn't prevent her from taking her life. I just wish I could have done more."

"But you did. You were there for her when she needed you. And now look at her; she's blessed by the chief divine himself to be his true champion. A warrior of the gods themselves. Would you change that, knowing that you might make the future worse in the long run? What happens if she doesn't do it? Does she continue to wither until she succumbs to death?" she pointed out.

Saoron sighed, ruffling his hair. "Yes and no. Yes because she's the best friend I have and I never wanted to see her be pushed to that brink. But how can I, knowing that she is the only one who can do a damn thing about the daedra invading Tamriel? You're asking me to change the worst thing that happened to me at the risk of being mercilessly slaughtered like lambs. That's too big of a question to get a real answer."

"I know," the Nerevarine said softly. "That's a question no one could ever answer properly. What you said is probably the closest you'll get to it."

"Then why did you ask?" Saoron turned around, finally sheathing his sword. He wasn't stupid enough to think about crossing blades with her; he had heard stories about what the Nerevarine was capable of and knew he was outclassed in every way.

"Because you're closest to her, save for that vampire from the Dark Brotherhood," the dunmer answered. "You're wondering why I came here. I came because I wanted to see the reminder of what happens when we turn our backs on the ones we love." She gestured to the erupting Red Mountain in the distance. "And to help her. I have more experience fighting daedra than anyone currently alive. Brute force is not enough. Not against a daedric prince. Killing their minions won't accomplish much either. To kill a daedra, you need to fight them on their home ground. You need to go into their realm of Oblivion."

"But how would she even get there?" Saoron let out a frustrated hiss. "It's not like one can simply walk into Oblivion."

"As a matter of fact…you can." The Nerevarine faced him with a smile. "You're familiar with the Black Books of Hermaeus Mora, right?"

"Black Books? No." He shook his head. 'Is that what we found in the depths of Raven Rock's mine? A daedric artifact? If so, then that explains that dark aura it emits.' He had done Alana a favor and hid it in his own house so she wouldn't have to be around the bloody thing, but now it was making a little more sense. It wasn't there by coincidence. Hermaeus Mora had purposely left it there.

"Well, if you read it, you are instantly taken to his realm of Apocrypha," the Nerevarine explained. "There's a slim chance you'll meet the prince of fate himself, as he often takes an interest in mortals who are hungry for knowledge. For a price, he might be willing to take someone to another daedra's realm."

"I have one, in my cellar," he said. "We found it in Bloodskal Barrow not too long ago. I knew something was wrong with it the moment I saw it."

"Bloodskal? Oh, now that makes quite a bit of sense." The Nerevarine pursed her lips. "Let me see it. I want to see what Hermaeus Mora wants with her."

"He wants her because she slew the World Eater and devoured his soul. Why else would he take an interest?"

"Perhaps she has other secrets that he wants to get his tentacles on."

Saoron sighed, glancing back at Red Mountain. A faint smudge of inky dark clouds was on the horizon and he could feel the sudden shift in the wind. 'There's a storm brewing. It'll hit Solstheim within the hour.' "We better get back to Raven Rock, and fast. You can feel it, can't you?"

"Indeed." The Nerevarine nodded gravely. "There's a nasty storm approaching and not just the one on the horizon. We don't have much time left before it hits."

Saoron's hair ruffled in the wind and he looked out across the ocean. "Alana…"

'Hurry back, please. We are going to need you more than ever.'

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. I worked on most of it in the last day or so and had been stuck for a good bit. Stupid writer's block.

A Lovestruck A2#5371