A/N: Here's the first installment of a new adventure in Skyrim. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or any characters found in the game. I do own Ilfhil and her glory seeking personality.


Whiterun Stables

Middas, 17th of First Seed, 4E 196

"That offer is an insult, Belethor."

"It's all this junk is worth, and you know it." The Breton merchant smiled, knowing he had the Nord woman within his grasp. She was always bringing in pieces of armor or small pieces of jewelry she collected from her bandit raids. She was a small time warrior trying to live a life of Skyrim Nord glory, which Belethor deemed a dying class of human. She was too young to have a real adventure in the world of mountains and snow.

"Fine." The young Nord grabbed the coins from Belethor's extended hand and walked out of the store, a frown creasing her forehead. She stopped outside of the shop, the marketplace before her buzzing with energy. Life in Whiterun was the same every time she came to sell her goods. It was peaceful and reminded her of Helgen, but the walls could make her feel trapped and nervous. Shaking her head, she plunged into the crowd, making her way to the Wind District.

The sun was bright and happy as it shined down on the young, blond Nord. Her gray-blue eyes took in the cleanliness of the stone walkways and the graceful arches of the gateways between districts. It was a beautiful city, one the young woman could feel comfortable in whenever she visited, and the walls gave it a fortitude only Solitude and Windhelm could boast about. A small group of children ran past her and she scooted aside, glad she had changed out of her heavy armor at the Bannered Mare and left her weapons behind before her venture into the city. Her war axe was sharp and deadly in her grasp, but it had no place among peaceful people.

Sighing, she made her way through the Wind district, glancing at the temple of Kynareth and whispering a silent prayer to the goddess, then moved on to the Cloud district. She had business with the Jarl's steward. The guards nodded to her as she approached Dragonsreach, the large wooden doors open for visitors and citizens who might need to speak with the Jarl. Proventus Avenicci was sitting at the end of one of the feast tables, close to the Jarl should he need the Imperial, enjoying his evening meal. She stopped before him and laid the bounty letter above his plate, along with the steel helmet the bandit leader was known to wear.

Proventus looked up and smiled. "Ah, Ilfhil, I see you've routed another of Jarl Balgruuf's many problems. Your service in greatly appreciated." She simply grunted in reply and held out her hand, the Imperial male dropping a small coin pouch in her hand. "Please, feel free to continue whatever quest you are on. I'm sure the Jarl would be more than happy to continue paying you for this great service." Ilfhil simply nodded, then turned to leave, not wanting to be in the Jarl's court for another minute. She had no trust or faith in Jarls. They were talk and false promises without results. It was the people like herself, like the warriors of Skyrim, who kept people safe, not Jarls.

Ilfhil took her leave of Dragonsreach and made her way to the city gate, few people acknowledging her presence. You're invisible here as you're invisible everywhere else, she thought. Her adventures within Skyrim went unnoticed for the most part, denying her the life of fame she desired. The pay was minimal and Belethor seemed to dislike her business, giving her only enough gold to survive on. The young Nord had dreamed of a warrior's life, one of gold and glory like the stories the bards of the inns told. None of her adventures had been lucrative in either so far.

Once she was outside the city, she went to the stables, wanting to purchase a reliable steed to help her on her adventures. Traveling would be swifter and she could return to bandit hunting sooner. As she approached the stables, she heard a ferocious roar and the sounds of battle. She regretted her simple tunic and breeches and ran forward to see the fight. Three tall, noble warriors in thick armor swung their weapons and attacked a giant. With wide eyes, Ilfhil watched as the three killed the giant and smiled at one another, proud of their kill.

The young Nord stepped from around the stable and the female warrior with bright eyes and gray war paint turned to see her. "Hiding from the giant?" There was disdain in her voice as she looked down her nose at Ilfhil.

"No. I just didn't have my weapon on me." The young warrior felt defensive and instantly dislike the other woman.

"A true Nord warrior is always prepared, no matter the safety they feel behind tall walls." The woman was grinning wolfishly, as if she had somehow bested the young woman and defeated her.

"Give it a rest Aela. We've got better things to do than taunt outsiders." One of Aela's male companions, the slimmer of the two men, looked Ilfhil over quickly before turning back to the city. "Our job is done. We need to return to Jorrvaskr." Aela nodded and the two set off, the third man hesitating.

"Don't take what they say to heart. They dislike outsiders and are proud of their skill. Your arms are strong and I see forged steel in your eyes. If you're looking for brothers or sisters in arms, then come to Jorrvaskr and speak with the Companion leader, Kodlak. He'll know if you have what it takes." The man smiled, his gray eyes bright as they held Ilfhil's gaze. "Tell him Farkas sent you." She nodded in understanding and he turned to follow the others, leaving her to stare after him.


"Evening, what can I get you?" Hulda was wiping down the bar as Ilfhil returned to the Bannered Mare, her coin purse only slightly heavier than when she'd left. She'd been unable to procure one of the horses, her funds too low for the stable master's tastes. Now, she would have to continue venturing on foot until she could make a few hundred more in gold.

She stopped by the bar and smiled at the inn keeper. "I'll take a hot plate and a cold mead." She put twenty Septims down then turned to go to her room, calling back over her shoulder. "I'll be right back down for my food." Climbing the stairs two at a time, she opened the door to her room and slipped inside, going to the chest where her valuables were stored. Pulling out a steel dagger, she stuffed it in her leather boot, determined to never be caught without a weapon again. She fixed her pants and left her room, returning to the common area as Hulda appeared with a plate and a mug.

Ilfhil took her food and sat on a bench near the fire, trying to plot out her next move. She needed bigger bandits, better items to sell, and maybe a better merchant. She smiled as she took a bite of roasted lamb, the delicious food soothing her sense of misery. A few patrons joined her around the fire as the bard began singing about past heroes of Skyrim and the glory of the Nordic home. Ilfhil smiled, unable to resist, as she was transported to a time when she would sit with her father at the inn and listen to the tales of war, filled with glory and majestic men. They were some of her happiest memories of her father.

As the song ended, and a few patrons clapped, she raised her glass to the memory of her departed father. The bard took up a drum and began a new tale, a story she tuned out as she let her mind wander through memories of her father. She was wrapped in the warmth of memories and the good feelings hot food and mead brought.

The door opened and two shadowy figures stalked into the inn. No one else noticed them, but the sound of metal being unsheathed drew Ilfhil back to the present. She set her plate aside, catching a moving shadow out of the corner of her eye, and discretely drew her dagger. A finely dressed man on the bench to her left stood, his body swaying slightly as he moved towards the stairs. One of the shadows moved and Ilfhil's hand moved out of instinct. She flicked the dagger in the shadow's direction, catching it in the throat.

A gurgled death cry sounded as the second shadow rushed Ilfhil. She turned and caught the assailant by his arm, the dagger cutting into her arm. A war cry was torn from her as she flung the shadow figure against the wall, his head smacking the hard wood. He tried to fight her but she wrestled him to the floor and pinned him down, recognizing the Dark Brotherhood uniform. "Assassins...bastards."

The front door of the inn burst open and four guards poured in, quickly taking in the scene and the groaning assassin pinned beneath the young Nord woman. They blinked for a moment before they set into motion, picking up the dead assassin and retrieving the defeated man. Ilfhil stood, her arm bleeding and staining her clothes, watching the men be taken away. She turned to collect her food and retire to her room, but ran into the hard body of a tall man.

Farkas smiled down at her, his eyes gleaming again. "Well, it looks like there's more to you than looks." She grunted at him and tried to go around him, but he gently took her wrist and turned her arm so he could examine it. "You don't have the hide of a dragon, but you do have the heart of one." He smiled and she responded with a shy one of her own. "Let me help you with this." He was gentle, despite his size, and Ilfhil wanted to know a little more about the large warrior. She followed him to her bench and sat down for him, wondering if Whiterun could ever be her home.

"I'm Ilfhil."


A/N: Comments and reviews are appreciated! If you haven't read my other story in Skryim, go to my profile and check it out!