A/N: Didn't like the most recent chapters, so I decided to rewrite them. Also got some new cover-art of Alana's miserable ass drinking in Raven Rock and will put my mod list for her down below.

Whispers of the Night

*Book 2: Oblivion Walker Part 16*

Alana stood hunched over the stone altar, keeping her hand steady as she poured a cup of fire salts into a tall vial. Next to it stood two more, one filled with void salts and the other frost. She'd made the purchases earlier at the White Phial, hoping to keep her mind away from the rather dangerous questions that kept springing to mind.

She didn't want to show it, especially in front of Astrid, but she was absolutely fuming. 'Why did Akatosh split my soul? He essentially gifted Mephala a free tool, one that is me in every way but warped by daedric influences. Did I make a mistake in coming back?'

Alana closed her eyes and shook her head. 'No. I needed closure and letting Ulfric know I'm alive after all these years was the least I could do. He doesn't deserve to be put through that nonsense again. Neither does Astrid.' She'd caused enough harm to the people she cared about.

She set the vials of salts onto her hip pouch, securing them tightly to prevent them from jiggling around. 'My alternate self doesn't seem to have the same problem I do with destruction or conjuration magic.' Rather concerning, since she was no good when it came to offensive magic. Even when she was Arch-Mage of Winterhold, she struggled to cast more than a Firebolt. Her magical talents were more defensive in nature, primarily alteration and restoration, and now, if Saoron's suspicions were correct, sun magic.

'Kind of ironic for Akatosh to gift me the ability to use sun magic after I spent several years hiding from it...' She would've found it hilarious if she wasn't so irritated.

The floorboards over her head creaked and groaned, and she kept as quiet as possible. Astrid was looking for her, and while normally she'd appreciate the concern, the last thing she wanted was being fussed over while in a foul mood. 'If we talk now, it's going to end up in a shouting match. I'll wait until I've burned this off.' Normally that would mean she was going out to find a bandit den to put to the sword, but it was getting late in the day and if she set out now, she wouldn't be back until well after dark.

That and her not being in Windhelm would lead Astrid to suspect the worst.

She reached under the altar and pulled out a set of weights she'd forged during her time in the Stormcloaks. Each one was forged out of solid iron, the two plates on either side weighing as much as a small child, and she blew the dust off of them. Tools like these were meant to be used, and these certainly hadn't seen much use in the last two years or so.

A smile broke out over her face, and she rolled her shoulders. 'Healthier than spending the day at the nearest tavern.'

Astrid wouldn't be able to complain about her wanting to keep herself in shape.

Astrid sighed, tapping her foot as she tried to think where a certain blonde idiot could've gone. She wasn't at either tavern, which was a shock on its own. 'I was so sure she'd be at the dunmer cornerclub. Dammit, she outplayed me for once. I'd be more impressed if I wasn't worried she was doing something even worse than getting herself completely pickled.' Alana wasn't at the blacksmith's or the king's palace, and the last time Astrid saw her, absolutely fuming. Everyone gave off a certain aura of malice when angered, and Alana's was terrifying to be around. It was like watching a dragon rise back, ready to strike down and crush you in its jaws.

'Surely not... she wouldn't go off on her own again, would she?' Astrid was not a woman who panicked easily, but their relationship was rocky enough already and she doubted she could handle a second desertion.

She took a deep breath, chiding herself for such weakness. 'Have a bit more faith. She wouldn't dare leave you again.' She bit her lip anxiously. 'Right?'

It was hard not to think that way. It made her feel even worse when she considered that was exactly what Mephala wanted.

She stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound of metal clanging, coming from inside the house. If Alana ever asked, Astrid absolutely did not nearly collapse with relief. Not at all.

She steadied herself, closing her eyes and letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. 'Okay, she's here. But where? A hidden room?' It was so like the idiot to have a little cavern she could retreat into like some sort of bat creature; Astrid didn't understand how such a revelation could really be that much of a shock. Alana's house back on Solstheim had an entire bloody tunnel system under it.

'Maybe her leaving once before was enough to make me paranoid...' Still, better for Alana to be hiding away in her own home as opposed to drowning herself in alcohol at a tavern. Astrid didn't know anyone else around the woman's age who spent as much time staring at the bottom of a bottle. Fixing her poor habits was a work in progress, one that Astrid didn't see being fixed overnight. Alana was great at many things, most of them related to fighting in one way or another, but letting go was not one of them. She could say she'd moved on all she liked, but she hadn't been as quiet as she thought the night the two of them returned from Serana's grave. Or any of the nights since their reunion, for that matter.

The damn fool cared way too much about her image for her own good. 'She'll never talk about it unless I confront her. Dammit, why are you like this?'

By Gods, how did Serana manage? Patience of a saint.

Astrid looked around the back wall of the manor, eyes narrowing at a cabinet. She considered the dimensions of the manor and position of the staircase, realizing where the hidden room was. She approached the cabinet and pulled it open to reveal a false back panel, grunts of exertion coming from the other side. 'What is she doing in there? Surely not working on her sword in a space that cramped.'

Astrid opened the panel to peer inside and got her answer. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth to muffle her gasp. Alana was inside and wearing little, but not for the reasons Astrid would normally find her in such a state. She'd known Alana was ridiculously strong and had the frame to match it, but watching the muscles work in a casual warm-up was fascinating. In each hand she held a bar with two lumps of iron on either side the size of a gourd, slowly curling both up to her chest before bringing it down. Slow rhythms for strength as opposed to quick bursts.

'Just when I think I've seen everything, you go out and surprise me. Is this your new coping mechanism? To burn yourself into a sweaty mess?' Astrid couldn't find it in her to disapprove. It was far better than finding the woman completely pickled at the nearest tavern.

Alana did not stop her rhythm or look back, but she'd heard her approach. "Were you looking for me?"

"I was. My initial assumption was that you'd be at the dunmer cornerclub. I was rather surprised to find out you never left the house," Astrid admitted. She'd noticed Alana's tastes, at least in alcohol, had changed during her time in Solstheim. She still enjoyed her mead and ale like any other Nord, but now her go-to beverages were dunmer in origin, like shein or sujamma. Having sampled some of it herself on the island, she could see why Alana was so fond of it.

By Sithis, one bottle could knock out a troll, and the idiot drank it like it was the freshest spring water. How did she even walk afterwards, let alone fight in such a state? Astrid could only stomach half of it before it brought her into the territory of 'uncomfortably drunk' and she'd set it aside, yet Alana could somehow drink barrels of that crap and still perform complex combat maneuvers that ought to have left her throwing up until the next era.

She shut the panel behind her, struggling to think of anything to say before eventually relenting and going for the blunt approach. Dancing around it wouldn't address the issue, and she let out a heavy sigh. 'She's not going to want to hear it, but she needs to. She needs to know she doesn't have to bear it alone anymore.' She imagined most people would be upset by their partner thinking about their prior relationship.

Astrid wasn't most people. She was just like her girlfriend; completely and utterly messed up. She also knew damn well how much Serana meant to Alana and was not going to give her grief about mourning her loss. What she was going to give her a talking to about was her tendency to try and hide it from everyone else important to her. 'Here it goes.' She sucked in a breath.

"I've heard you crying in the middle of the night the last several days, and I know it's not from nightmares." She paused, waiting to see how she would react to being confronted. She expected denial or brushing it off as something that wasn't important enough to be addressed when it very obviously was. If so, then she was still going get a fight until she got it through her thick head.

Alana didn't say anything, but she set both weights down on the ground, tensed up as she rose. Astrid couldn't see her face, but the woman's body language said enough. A sharp inhale, stiffening of her back, hands trembling by her side.

"You're grieving, but that's not entirely it. You're afraid, even if you won't admit it to yourself let alone anyone," Astrid continued, taking a step closer and feeling bolder. "You're afraid of losing me the same way you lost Serana."

Alana said nothing.

Astrid wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace, leaning her head on her shoulder. The woman froze, a soft gasp leaving her as Astrid squeezed around her chest. "You don't have to bear it alone anymore," she murmured. She felt a splash of wetness on her hands, and only held her tighter as the woman's shoulders started to shake, the final barrier finally crumbling under the volume.

A choked sob left Alana's throat, the blonde nearly collapsing in Astrid's arms as she wavered. "Thank you..." she croaked. She didn't flinch as Astrid's hand came up to cup her cheek and break the trail of tears. Astrid lightly pecked the back of her neck, wanting to shake the idiot for making it so damn difficult. Alana held herself to impossibly high standards, no doubt in part to the burden placed on her by a god, and when she failed to meet them, she was inevitably crushed. A vicious cycle that was hard to break once it started.

Alana turned to face her, eyes shining with unshed tears, and Astrid wrapped an arm around her. "Come; I want you to tell me more about her."

She did not resist as she was led away.

Two hours later, only interrupted by her getting some drinks for them, Alana was lying on her back with her head in Astrid's lap. The assassin was chuckling faintly, having just been told the tale about how Serana had dragged her away by her cloak for getting a little too friendly with a tavern wench in Dawnstar. In her defense, she hadn't realized she was flirting at the time, though her protests did not save her from the utter scolding she received afterwards. Serana always had a sharp tongue and wasn't afraid to use it when Alana was making a fool of herself.

"She said all of that?"

"Mhm." Alana nodded, a distant look in her eyes as she took a sip of her mead. After a year on Solstheim, she'd become fairly fond of her new haunt and missed the warm atmosphere of Geldis' cornerclub, and his sujamma. The dunmer certainly knew what they were doing when it came to their liquor. "You know how bad I am when it comes to things like flirting, so me, being the absolute definition of brilliance I am, thought the woman was just friendly with every rough-looking mercenary." And by Talos was she rough. While her social skills left much to be desired, Alana was unfortunately very good at drawing the gaze of curious women in other ways. There was no getting around having an incredible physique when one was a Stormcloak and required to train or scout the wilderness for weeks.

"Did she not lean towards you? It seems obvious towards me, and I wasn't even present."

"I wasn't paying much attention," Alana groaned. "Or any, for that matter." It was just after a particularly explosive argument, and she had gone to sulk in the bar instead of dealing with her anger in a healthy manner. To Serana, it had looked like she had purposely set out to find easy company, though she'd been far more interested in the selection of alcohol available as opposed to a quick roll in the hay with the first willing participant.

Funnily enough, that ensuing argument was what made her, Clueless Be Thy Name, finally got it through her head that the vampire had cared for her more than just as a friend.

'Ralof aways said I was bad at basic interactions, but I didn't think I was that bad. Bloody hell.' It was easy to mock it at first, but looking deeper below her lack of social skills painted an unpleasant picture. She was messed up, and not in a good way. Serana was similar to her in that regard, and why they ended up as close as they did. Two equally screwed souls clinging onto each other as they clawed tooth and nail to survive in an otherwise bleak world. It hadn't been pretty, but they managed to keep each other alive when the world did its damn best to kill the both of them.

Living that hell had molded her into what she was today. 'It would've been a lot worse if it were just me alone.' How many times had Serana pulled her out of the fire? Too many to count.

She went to take a pull from her bottle yet no liquid came forth. 'Damn, already?' As much as the truth would bother Astrid, she liked drinking. It helped center her and let her look at things from a neutral point of view. It was also good for numbing the aches and pains that came from a life of constant combat. She may have been only twenty-five, but she felt a decade older with the kinds of experiences she'd had over the last three years.

Alana set her empty bottle down and glanced back up at her partner. Those beautiful golden eyes were going to draw a lot of unwanted attention to Astrid, and she looked away with guilt gnawing at her conscious. 'I'm the idiot who changed her without her granting me permission to do so.'

Astrid might've been fine with her newfound vampire powers, but Alana knew what fate awaited vampires who were killed. 'No. Serana and I were both forced to live that hell, and I refuse to let her go through the same.' She fought to keep control of herself as the worst days of her life flashed before her eyes, fist clenching and unclenching at her side. Back then, she'd been at the height of her lust for power, fully embracing her draconic nature and seeking new knowledge to crush her foes. She'd been arrogant, no better than the dragons she slew.

Coldharbour had been an eye-opener. A cruel one, where all of her power was utterly useless.

There was no chance in Oblivion she was going to let Astrid suffer like that. Not if she had anything to say about it. The only problem was, she couldn't think of a way to cure her partner's vampirism without a divine's interjection. It had taken Akatosh breaking her soul in half to cure Alana of her own undeath, and she didn't think a priest's blessings would be enough to destroy the plague in Astrid's veins. 'I'll need to poke around. Fire off a few questions.' With any bit of luck, her fence inside the city from her Thieves Guild days was still alive and functioning as an information broker. If not, she had another alternative, though not one she wanted to have to use.

She'd have to get in contact with the remnants of the clan she and Serana had left in dissary. The Volkihar clan. The ancient blood was their 'gift' after all, and if they knew how to administer it, they sure as hell knew of a way to purge it. There was always the chance they couldn't, however. 'Even if they did, I doubt they'd give that knowledge out freely.' Alana hid her grimace behind her hand, feeling a rush of guilt. The Volkihar clan was her mistake, one of many, and it was up to her to fix it and make things right.

"Astrid..."

"Hm?"

Alana closed her eyes and exhaled. "About your vampirism..."

"You're not still blaming yourself for that, are you?" The older woman frowned. "I've told you before, it was my own - "

"I'm going to cure it." Alana felt Astrid tense underneath her and she stood, facing away from her and making her way over to a nearby window. Outside, a snowstorm was beginning to blanket the streets of Windhelm in a fine white powder, and her hand rested against the glass. "When a vampire dies... their soul is sent to the realm of the King of Domination himself. His palace, specifically. Those too weak to be of any use to him are fed to the daedra that roam Coldharbour. The stronger... become his."

"You mean... his slaves?" Astrid's voice was a whisper as she too stood to take a position by her side.

"Worse," Alana answered softly, her forehead against the glass. "His unwilling concubines."

Astrid paled, swearing under her breath and Alana backed away from the window before turning to face her, shoulders shaking. "I am not going to let that happen to you as well."

"As well? Who else..." Astrid trailed off as she put the pieces together and hugged her tightly, hands on her back with her eyes soft. "Oh Alana... why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Not exactly something I can bring up in a normal conversation, is it? Nor is it something I want to remember." Alana looked away in shame. "All it does is remind me of being pathetically weak." Not just physically, but mentally as well. A dragon was meant to battle, not be chained down and paraded like a trophy.

Her hatred of that moment still burned, and she was not ashamed to admit she'd relish in the satisfaction of scoring her own devastating blow right back, and she knew where to hit Molag Bal the hardest.

'Do what I should've done from the beginning.' Her nostrils flared and her fist clenched. 'Burn that wretched castle to the ground, along with every last bloodsucking son of a bitch in it.'

"You've got that thunderous look again," Astrid warned. "Is this about revenge?"

"No. Penace. Intentionally or not, I've brought a lot of harm to countless innocents with my actions." The blonde woman's eyes closed. "I have to at least make things better."

She knew damn well she wasn't a good person, not with the amount of blood on her hands. No period of atonement would fully cleanse her of the sins she'd committed, but she was tired of running from them. Better to confront her past head-on and with sword in hand.

What better place to start than her greatest failure?

'End the clan, and the blood dies with them.' Valerica would be the only one who remained, and that was another problem she had to deal with.

Valerica needed to be told what happened to Serana. 'Yet another grieving parent who will blame me for their child's death.' She took solace in knowing Serana wouldn't, and she wasn't going to make the same mistake.

"Who are we going after then?"

"The Volkihar Clan, but not yet." Alana shook her head, looking her partner up and down. "You're not equipped for storming their castle. Not without a ranged option of your own."

It was best to deal with vampires at a distance. Getting in their face was how you got yours clawed off and throat ripped out.

Luckily for both her and her partner, she had the perfect weapon in mind, one she personally was capable of forging and would hold up under duress. A normal longbow wouldn't be durable enough to withstand long bouts of abuse, but a crossbow was both sturdy enough to take hits and easier to use. They didn't have time for Astrid to train up with a bow, either, which did factor in her decision.

'Crossbow it is. Easier to maintain and make adjustments should she need them.' Alana clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "I need three chunks of firewood and four steel ingots."

"What am I, an errand girl?"

"Around my forge? Yes." Alana nodded, smiling sweetly. "I worked rather hard to obtain this manor and I don't want you burning it down." It was silly, but all blacksmiths were very possessive of their forge, and desecrating one was a good way to receive a half-molten sword through the cranium. Even in the Imperial City, most people knew better than to upset the person working their steel. The rude customers usually changed their tune once they realized just how strong all blacksmiths were as a result of working long days, and they didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with uppity adventurers who thought they were the best thing to grace the lands since the invention of garlic bread.

Astrid rolled her eyes but relented, giving her rear a quick swat that made Alana break into a giggle. "Fine, fine. And whereabouts would I find these materials?"

"I have a stack of wood downstairs in the spare room, and the chest next to it has my metals. Just bring them to the forge and leave the hard part to me. Don't worry, I have an idea." Alana watched her go and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, letting her head rest against the wall and closing her eyes.

Find a way to cure Astrid's vampirism, destroy the Volkihar clan, and deliver the bad news to Valerica.

'And here I thought this was going to be a quick trip...'

She really ought to have known better.

It was a relief for Astrid to know her girlfriend could still make a living as a tradesman if she ever got tired of saving Tamriel's sorry arse, yet she couldn't help noticing the slightly distant look in Alana's eyes as she worked. She wasn't even looking at the piece of wood she was carving, her grip on the carving knife tight and a little too harsh. Astrid didn't call her on it, feeling the fury roll off of her in waves.

She didn't want to have that directed at her. Astrid wasn't dumb enough to poke the dragon while it was mulling annihilation, because that's exactly what it was. Alana never would admit it - even to her, which was ridiculous - but the younger woman wanted to kill the clan behind the vampire's condition. 'Was your earlier workout an attempt to tire yourself out so you don't direct that at me?'

Better than drinking herself unconscious, but for goodness' sake she ought to have more faith in her control. Astrid had seen her at her worst, knee deep in bodies and relishing the terrible bloodshed she caused, and even then she was capable of restraining her bloodlust. Then again, that inhuman rage wasn't directed at her back in those grim days.

'And it's not this time, either. She wants the clan to burn, and I can't blame her for feeling that way.' For Alana, falling to the side of the Volkihar clan was her greatest failure. The biggest black eye she'd received in life, and now she was seeking to return the favor tenfold by slaughtering the entire clan in retaliation.

'The clan is to be a message,' Astrid realized, eyes widening. 'No, a declaration of war against all of Oblivion.' The dragon had been bloodied, but now it was using its brute strength for a surgical, crippling blow.

Astrid fully believed Alana would do it even if curing her taint hadn't been a factor. She wouldn't pass up an opportunity to strike back, especially when presented on a silver plate. 'This is a chance for her to hit Molag Bal where it hurts. No way in hell she doesn't leap for this.'

Penance? More like bloody retribution.

'I'm going to have to keep an eye on her.' She ought to have been flattered that Alana cared about her so much she'd commit a massacre for her, but the idiot could show she cared in ways that didn't involve her risking her life. The woman was far too harsh on herself for things she had no control over, and she had the tendency to let the sting of her failures linger, but the Alana she knew had been a shell of the person she'd been. Broken, near the end, and just going through the motions of living without purpose or direction.

Now?

Now, Alana had an objective and the motivation to see it through. The monster was back, and the Volkihar clan was to be her first example, to show the lords of Oblivion just what kind of hell they had invited onto their doorstep. The terrible vanquisher would speak, and the planes beyond their world would tremble in fear. If someone were to ask her, it was about damn time Alana pulled her head out of her arse and reminded the daedric lords that she was worse than any nightmare Vaermina could cook up.

Twenty minutes later, Alana had finished her project, and she stood back to let Astrid see the creation. It was a crossbow, similar in design to the one Alana herself used, and the younger Nord flicked some sweat off of her brow as Astrid looked over the weapon. "It's an old dwemer design," she explained. "The blueprints were excavated from the ruins of Avanchenzel, south of Riften and borderline undecipherable if you don't have a translation handy." Alana tapped a finger smudged with soot on a grubby old journal on her workbench.

One thing was for sure.

If it ever misfired, Astrid could simply use its weight and bludgeon someone to death with it. Sturdy, heavy, and after she was showed how to, quicker to reload than she expected.

"So, where to?" the vampire asked, clipping her new weapon to her waist and accepting a pouch full of bolts for it.

"Bed." Alana groaned and rubbed her shoulder. "It's already what, the small hours of the morning? I think it's a good time to call it a night."

For the first time in years, she didn't cry herself to sleep.

A/N: Right, so here's my mod list I used to create her in-game. Doesn't seem like a lot because it isn't.

FFXIII Lightning Preset

Younger Female Faces

Barrel of Black Armors (Black Thieves Guild Armor Set)

Cloaks of Skyrim