Author Note: This is the first chapter in what will eventually become a three book series. I would like to clear something up before you begin. If you've read my Dragon's Dogma fic the name Mavourneen might be familiar to you. That's because both the Arisen and the Dragonborn share the name. There isn't any particular reason for it other than I really love that name. Eventually, I will also have the first chapter of a fic for Dragon Age: Origins on here, and the Warden also is named Mavourneen. It actually started with the Warden. I fell in love with them and just kept the name because I couldn't bear to part with it, so now when I try to find new names for characters everything sounds just so plain and boring. It's almost like how American Horror Story uses the same actors and actresses to play different roles each season. Ya' get what I'm sayin'?
Anyway, just wanted to give you a heads up. Excuse the ungodly length of this note, and please do enjoy this first chapter.
Mavourneen pushed her way through the throng of citizens departing from the darkening market of Riften, bumping into almost every person that passed. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get off the streets, and with good reason too. It was well known that Riften was home to the notorious gang of thieves residing in the labyrinth of sewers beneath the city. And after dealing with the gate guard, even she was eager to get indoors to relative safety.
It wasn't that she had anything worth stealing; no valuables, barely enough money to keep her off the streets. It was knowing the fact that the Thieves' Guild was actually on the brink of collapse and they were getting desperate. Who knows what level they would sink to in order to breathe life back into their guild. Even if she did become a target, it would just be something she would have settle with, seeing as she put herself here. The city may be a rattrap, but it's the best place for a criminal to blend in.
Since, Haelga, the owner of the Bunkhouse refused to rent her a room, the Bee and Barb was where Mavourneen was headed. Apparently the "Bunkhouse" isn't a luxury inn for travellers, which Haelga yelled over and over again - that, and that her bunkhouse is only for the hard working citizens of Riften.
The Bee and Barb was rather crowded with those from the market, and even over all the chatter and noise, as she stepped over the threshold, an Argonian woman behind the bar heard her walk in and peered up at her with a curious expression that made her nervous.
From across the crowded room the Argonian yelled, "Here for a room?"
It drew the attention of nearly every patron in the tavern. Mavourneen scowled slightly and made a casual, if somewhat tense, walk over to the obnoxious Argonian as everyone's eyes fixed on her.
Sliding onto a stool, she dropped a pouch of septims on the counter. "I'll take it for the week," she mumbled quietly to the bartender.
The Argonian eyed her with suspicion, but quickly snatched up the pouch to count out the coin. When she had finished, she said, "First room on the left," nodding toward the stairs.
Mavourneen slid two more coins to the Argonian. "I'll take a meal in my room as well," she said slipping from the stool and making her way to the stairs.
As she shuffled across the room, she spied a man from the corner of her eye watching her. He leaned against the wall, arms across his chest with the shadows of the dark corner to hide his face. Only his fern green eyes could be seen shimmering in the dim light the few scattered candles gave off. She paused for but a second to glance into the shadow, but quickly pressed forward when the man in the dark shifted. There was something about him that was unsettling, though she couldn't quite place her finger on it. Tonight she would be sleeping with a knife under her pillow, just in case.
Mavourneen locked herself away in her tiny rented room, wasting time fiddling with her dagger. Half an hour had passed when the handle to the door began jiggling around and when it wouldn't budge, there came loud rapping on the wood. Mavourneen quietly unlocked the door and opened it to a crack to peek from. It was the Argonian woman with a small tray of food. She allowed the door to swing open freely and flopped down into a rickety wooden chair as the Argonian placed the tray on the equally old and damaged table beside her.
"If you are to stay here for so long, you should know my name is Keerava. I own this establishment with the other Argonian, Talen-Jei," she introduced.
Without meeting her eyes Mavourneen mumbled out her name to Keerava, who was still giving her strange looks.
"We don't get many travellers here, not with the war. Why have you come to Riften, if I may ask?"
The words, "Damn nosey Argonian," kept repeating in Mavourneen's head. This woman would probably spread any details or information she gives out. It would be best if she kept this short. "I'm looking to settle down here in the city."
Keerava scoffed at her response and beamed a devilish smile at her. Her reptilian nature made it appear intimidating, but it was her way of silently saying she knew Mavourneen was hiding something. "You'd be wise to stop acting like you're running from something. Might make you a mark."
Mavourneen wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brows. "To who?" she spat aggressively.
The Argonian shrugged. "The guards… the Guild. Just be careful, both are bad for business," was all she said before she backed out, shutting the door.
Mavourneen exhaled forcefully through her nose in frustration and dug into lukewarm stew. Did everyone in this place have their hand in crime? It appeared so, but it all seemed so natural for them.
ooOoo
Mavourneen skirted around the crowd in the marketplace, making her way out to the docks in search of work. She had gotten word from Keerava that Boli, the owner of the fishery, was looking for more employees, and although she was by no means a fisherman, she would still try her best. Money was money, after all, and at least this was honest work.
Right away, she could tell it was also going to be dirty work. The wood of the docks was saturated with water and the blood of fish mixed with the droppings of birds come to pick at the fishermen's catches, and it all accumulated to form a thick, slippery sludge on the surface.
Her eyes remained fixed on her own feet, keeping on the look for any slick spots that would send her tumbling into the chilly lake below. As she walked, her thoughts were somewhere else, in remembrance of the godsforsaken sequence of events that put her here.
A bulky arm stuck out in front of her, blocking her path, and she stopped just short of running right into the crook of the person's elbow with her face. Her eyes traced a path from their large hand pressed against the wall of the meadery, up their arm, to their face. The man had long, bronze hair, with the front loosely tied back, and his eyes were a vivid fern green. He wore the blue finery of a nobleman, which struck her as odd. You wouldn't think to find nobleman on the blood soaked docks.
She quickly looked away, mumbling an apology and tried to walk around him. The man chuckled quietly and stepped in front of her again. Whoever this man was, he was being quite rude and beginning to aggravate her.
Sighing loudly, she asked, "Can I help you, sir?"
"The question is, lass, can I help you? Seems to me you're a little strapped for coin," he said with a sly smile.
"My money is none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me."
He backed her into the wall and placed both his hands on either side of her head. "Now, see, that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?"
She snorted. "I don't want a taste of anything. Now, get out of my way," Mavourneen growled, getting louder. The guard standing at the entrance to the market looked over in their direction.
The man pinning her to the wall smiled and waved cheerfully at the guard, who looked away. "Come now, you and I both know what you are," he whispered.
Mavourneen felt her own skin jump at his words and her eyes widened with dread. She suddenly felt very small. "What do you want?"
"I've got a small errand, and find myself in need of an extra pair of hands. I shouldn't have to tell you that you'll be compensated well."
"What's this errand and how do I help?"
"I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strong box under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing." Her eyes shifted nervously from his to the guard. He was briskly pacing toward them, a hand on his axe in his belt. "What's your answer, lass?"
The guard stopped about ten feet away. "Everything alright over here?" he asked suspiciously.
Mavourneen nodded to the guard. "Everything's fine. We were just heading back to the market." She pushed the red-headed man's arm away and quickly walked back through the door to the heart of the city with the man a few feet behind. Once inside, she stopped just beside the blacksmith. "Let's get this over with," she said impatiently when the man caught up.
"Good. Wait until I start the distraction and then show me what you're made of."
"Yeah, just watch me," she grumbled out as she walked off.
Stealing the ring was easy, only a simple matter of unlocking the strong box while remaining unnoticed. Mavourneen had a certain finesse for picking locks, quick and delicate; and with this man to divert the attention of nearly everybody in the market, she was practically invisible. Picking pockets, however, required a little more skill, at least for Mavourneen. While picking locks, her fingers were nimble and gentle, but they became clumsy and artless when she had her hand in someone else's pocket.
With the ring in her fist, she stalked her way around the perimeter of the market, scanning the area for a certain dunmer. He sat on a crate directly in front of the red-headed man who employed her help. Brand-Shei was griping about whatever it was the man was speaking to them about, clearly annoyed and skeptical, yet there he sat listening.
Exhaling a steadying breath, she slipped silently behind the crates and pressed herself against them as closely as possible without making them move. The satchel on his hip was the perfect place to slip the ring. A shaking hand stretched out and slid the ring beneath its fold. She quickly withdrew her hand, slipping backward from the hot area. When she was standing again, the red-headed man concluded his presentation.
"Well, well, well, looks like I chose the right person for the job," he said quietly as Mavourneen approached him. "Oh, and it seems I have not properly introduced myself. Name's Brynjolf," he introduced, sticking out a hand.
"Mavourneen," she returned, grasping his hand. "You were that fellow in the Bee and Barb last night." She looked at his bright eyes in thought. "Your eyes… They give you away."
Brynjolf chuckled lightly. "Fancy my eyes, lass?"
"Don't flatter yourself. Now, where's my pay?"
"Your coin, as promised," he said handing her a bloated bag of septims. "One hundred septims. And there's more where that came from, if you think you can handle it."
She sighed dejectedly shaking her head. "I don't know…"
"It beats gutting fish."
"Yeah," she whispered with a nod. "Yeah, I'll do it. Tell me what I've got to do."
"All right, then," he grinned. "Walk with me." As Brynjolf led Mavourneen from the marketplace, across the canal, she could hear a guard demanding Brand-Shei to turn out his pockets. She peeked over her shoulder to see the dunmer being clapped in irons. He stopped her at the top of a rotted, old set of stairs that led to the waterway below. He came close to her, whispering. "In the Ratway beneath the city, there is a tavern… the Ragged Flagon. Meet me down there and we'll talk about another job."
"You expect me to navigate a network of tunnels and sewers designed to lead you astray and confuse you?" she snipped at him.
"Aye," he affirmed with a cheeky smile before he sauntered off in the opposite direction.
Mavourneen humphed loudly, glaring daggers into the man's back.
ooOoo
The cemetery behind the Temple of Mara was vacant, as usual. Brynjolf footed through the grass and spongy earth left moist from the previous evening's rain to the small grave monument that jutted out from the wall that separated the burial ground from the more affluent residences of the city. The sarcophagus inside was decorated with candles and withered flowers, and looked as though someone still mourned here. The truth of the matter was, though, that it was actually empty. There never was a body inside.
He knelt before it and slid his thumb over the decoration on its side; a diamond with a circle inside. With little pressure, the circle pressed inward and the stones beneath his feet gave way, pulling backward into the wall to reveal a staircase beneath. He climbed down and pulled the chain at the foot of the staircase that closed the floor behind him and then proceeded down the ladder in the center of the ground.
The enclosure the ladder was in opened up into an enormous circular cistern bustling with the other members of the Thieves Guild. As he walked the circumference of the cistern toward the northern gate many of the junior members of the Guild would wave and greet him cheerfully; all except the young woman, Sapphire, who normally just scowls and glares at everyone.
Through the north gate was the Ragged Flagon, the seedy little tavern that served as their headquarters. At the bar he found Vex and Delvin, to whom he affectionately referred to as the "troublesome twosome," not just because they're experienced senior members of the Guild, but because they used to run jobs together back when they newcomers. The three of them had all joined the Guild at roughly the same time and became fast friends, though the friendship between Vex and Delvin had declined over the years when he attempted to bring emotion into the picture.
He came up behind them and clapped a hand on both of their backs. "I've got news," he said optimistically. "I found a girl."
"Aw, Brynjolf," Delvin mockingly whined. "You're breakin' my heart. I thought we were gonna' get married."
"Shut up, Delvin. I'm talking about a new member for the Guild. You should have seen her in the market today." Brynjolf picked up the mug Vekel, the barkeep, passed to him and took a couple swigs. "A real professional."
Vex scoffed. "I could pick any urchin off the street and set 'em to picking pockets, and I bet they'd cough up a whole lot more than whoever you got."
"You see, that's the kind of attitude that's got us in this rut," Brynjolf replied. "What we need is some new blood in the Guild."
"It's a curse," Delvin quietly argued. "Somethin' out there is piss drunk mad at us and -"
"I've heard enough from you about your ridiculous superstitions," Vex broke in, snapping at him.
Brynjolf just stood there shaking his head while his best friend's kept at each others throats. Always bickering, these two, like an old married couple. Even though Vex would often yell at Delvin, threaten him, and sometimes even hit him, you could definitely tell that there was some level of romance between them. Of course Vex would never let on and masked her feelings behind a bad attitude. Whenever they would start arguing Brynjolf would just smile knowingly and let them be. It seemed to be the only way Delvin could get Vex to show any sort of emotion toward him at all.
When the pair had finally quieted down, Brynjolf gave them the rest of his news. "There's something else," he started quietly. When Delvin, Vex, and Vekel had turned their attention to him, he said, "I've invited her to the Flagon." There was a cumulative groaning and sighing from the three of them, especially Vex, who seemed to be more irritable than usual.
"Give it up, Brynjolf…" Vekel groaned. "Those days are over."
"I'm telling you, this one is different. There's something about her…" he enthused in thoughtful confidence.
"Yeah, like we haven't heard that line before," Vex chided.
"It's time to face the truth, Brynjolf," Vekel started in again. "The three of you, Mercer, you're all apart of a dying breed. Things are changing."
"Dying breed, eh?" Brynjolf followed everyone's line of sight that was drawn to something behind him. A woman with ashen blonde locks and ivory skin stood close behind him, her arms crossed over her chest and hips cocked to the side. Her lips and brows wore a dour expression, but her pale blue eyes were alight with tenacity and eagerness. She was happy to be there, there was no hiding it. "Well, what do you call that then? This, my friends," he announced gesturing out to her, "is Mavourneen, soon to be our newest member."
Delvin greeted her with a dull smile and a weak wave, the only welcome she received from the rather cold group. Brynjolf laid a hand on the small of her back and hastily led her away, forcing a painful, embarrassed smile.
"Quite a cheery bunch, that lot," Mavourneen jeered with a face of stone.
"Don't mind them. They're not entirely on board with you joining our outfit, just being selfish really. But that doesn't matter right now. You're here for a job, and I've got one, and once they see you've done it well, they'll embrace you with open arms," Brynjolf explained.
"I see… So what's the job?"
"Got a couple of deadbeats that owe our organization a great deal of coin and skipped out on the payments. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways."
"And just who might these 'deadbeats' be?"
"Bersi Honey-Hand, owner of the Pawned Prawn, and Haelga, the owner of the bunkhouse."
Mavourneen blew out a sharp breath and smirked. "Haelga?" she asked, waiting for confirmation. When Brynjolf nodded, she breathed, "I'm going to enjoy this."
"Let me guess, she bitched at you about the bunkhouse not being an inn and then practically chased you out with a broom."
"Does she do this to everyone?" Mavourneen asked in surprise. She had not expected him to know the exact sequence of events.
"Pretty much. It's especially bad for women." When Mavourneen regarded him with a confused expression, he chuckled and elaborated on his words. "She claims to practice the "Dibellan Arts," but she's really just a glorified whore. Most of the renters in the bunkhouse are men she sleeps with."
"Oh Gods!" she cried with a look of horror. "And the men, they know this?"
"Bah! Fools, the lot of them. They'd lose their heads if they weren't attached to their necks, so to answer your question; no, they haven't even the foggiest. Anyhow - back to business. Here's the deal, their debts are secondary. The real objective is to send a message: We are not to be trifled with."
"And if the need for force arises?"
"Then so be it, but do not, by any means, kill them."
She snorted. "I wasn't going to. You think I'm going to risk my neck doing a job for an outfit I'm not even a part of?"
"Spare me the attitude, miss. I get enough of it from Vex and Sapphire. Just get the job done, do it right, and I can promise you a place among us."
"On my way," she grumbled, turning on her heel.
Brynjolf watched after her departure, scratching his beard and wondering if he'd actually made a mistake when a hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find Delvin standing behind him with a smug look.
"Well, she's a spitfire, ain't she?" Delvin poked. "I'll tell ya' what, I got a good feelin' you were right about her. She's got the spirit for it, you know, that little glow in her eyes she had when she got here."
"Yeah, and with a temper like that, I almost feel bad for Bersi and Haelga."
Author Note: Well, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review, and if you have any suggestions or constructive criticism do share. I am always looking for ways to improve upon my writing. And remember, kids, stay tuned for the next chapter ;)
And don't forget to check out my profile for information related to new updates! It will let you know when you can expect a new chapter.