Chapter One: First Impressions Are Everything
He glanced down the hallway, checking on the maid he'd been watching for the better part of an hour. All that was required of her was to finish her sweep of the halls and go to bed. It wasn't too much to ask – at least he thought so. However, if he'd known flirting with a guard for half an hour was part of her nightly routine, he would have brought a deck of cards. He always found the idea of playing solitaire in Solitude amusing.
With an impatient sigh he leaned back, settling back into the unused staircase that served as both seat and shield. Despite his chosen profession, where patience equaled profit, it had never been one of his strong suits. He hated it. Counting second after miserable second as time took its leisurely self was a maddening task.
A girlish giggle sounded down the corridor. He rolled his eyes. He needed her out of the way and rather than constantly looking over his shoulder, he preferred that the flirty little variable was removed from the equation. Stationary threats, such as the guards, were much easier to deal with.
He peered around the corner and froze. They'd gotten closer – kissing distance by his estimate. While a part of him was curious as to how the kissing would be done (seeing a city guard take off their helmet was one thing he'd never actually witnessed) there was a job to be done. Time was slipping away and night was steadily becoming day.
Balls to it.
With a flick of his wrist a spell – a translucent, deep purple orb – appeared in his palm. It twisted and turned within itself, its torrential appearance mirroring its unstable nature. Flexing his fingers, the orb shattered and he vanished in a sudden flash.
He moved silently, a specter slinking along the wall. He ticked off the seconds in his head, counting what little time he had before the spell dissipated and left him exposed. Upon reaching the pair of lovebirds in the hall he stopped. As he eyed the two so seemingly bent on thwarting his flawless plan he decided he had a few seconds to spare. He rose from his crouched position along the wall and carefully moved towards them. Leaning close to the maid, mindful not to touch her, a soft "Psst!" slipped from his mask. He leapt back and slipped away, just as the young Nord jumped and scanned the hallway with wide, startled eyes.
"Is something wrong?" he heard the guard say.
"N-no, not at all," said the maid in an unconvincing tone.
"Anyway, I get off duty in an hour…"
After his small feat of vengeance had been served, he pressed on. Turning a corner, he was met with a corridor tucked away from view. The path to the Jarl's quarters lay ahead: unlit and unguarded. Pick and tension wrench readily in hand, he sidled close to the locked double doors and went to work. As his pick skimmed the edge of the lock the spell broke, abandoning him in a brief but bright flash. Not that it mattered. Within moments a soft click met his ears and the doors parted with mild protest. He darted inside and shut the doors.
Scanning the room, he found the sole occupant of the room in bed and fast asleep – so blissfully unaware of her visitor. He crossed the room, each step swift and silent, and crouched beside her. As he loomed over her, watching the moonlight play across her face, sweet Elisif was none the wiser. Unfortunately, his objective did not involve the lovely Jarl.
There, on her end table, set on a bed of velvet within a gilded box, was his goal: a Stone of Barenziah.
He seized the small gem from its box and tucked it securely within an empty satchel on his belt. In its stead he placed a flower, a bloom as beautiful as it was deadly. Taking a moment to pull the blankets up to the Jarl's chin, he bid her a silent good night and exited the room.
Apart from an odd breeze sweeping by, the proud protectors of the Jarl detected nothing out of the ordinary.
Outside, Skyrim's capital had grown quiet, a somberness permeating the very stone from which it was built. It was a demeanor befitting Solitude, befitting a city caught in the midst of war – no matter how greatly the cards were dealt in its favor.
After dodging a few guards' repetitive routes the roads were conveniently empty…spare the local drunk. But the poor soul was ignored. A trick of the mind – of the mead – he would think. How else could the man fathom a walking shadow, let alone a shadow casually tossing a shining gemstone in its hand?
Forgoing from the risky (but rather tempting) urge to pass through the market place and all but stride out the city gates, he stuck to his original plan. Beneath Solitude's famous windmill was a darkened exit from the city, one completely unguarded.
And therefore perfect for bastardly purposes.
With a nod toward the old drunk he turned and opened the gates, heading down the tunnel and back into the guarding embrace of the shadows.
Her patrol had been uneventful. All eight hours of it. No distant, threatening roar of a dragon looming on the horizon, no Stormcloak spies to thwart – not even a brawl between drunken sailors to break up. Then again, what did she expect when assigned the northern harbor road on the graveyard shift? It lacked the uncertain thrill of manning the main road to and from Solitude or the amusement of eavesdropping on local gossip inside the city. Stepping over gull droppings was as eventful as it got most nights.
Leave it to Uncle Aldis to give me the dullest shift on the dullest road in the entire Hold.
She would ask him for a new route if she wasn't certain the other guards would give her grief about it. Despite her best efforts she'd never managed to completely shed the accusations of favoritism among the guards (being the captain's niece painted a large, easy target on her back). In spite of being his 'favorite', the probability Aldis would say "no" was incredibly high. He'd said as much when she'd requested a main road shift…and jail duty…and Palace duty. In fact, he'd managed to shoot down every shift or patrol route short of guarding Katla's chickens.
Now that I think about it, chicken duty wouldn't be that bad. At least I'd have someone to talk to.
Things just hadn't been the same since the ambush three months ago and she doubted they would be anytime soon. Aldis was too cautious and stubborn to change his mind so quickly. For the time being she would just have to grin and bear it.
Her feet throbbed with every step and the scent of low tide clung to her uniform like stink on a skeever. She walked along the road beneath the great land bridge, the rock formation holding half of Solitude above her head. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she laid eyes on the lantern post just a few yards away, its golden glow marking the hidden entrance into the city.
As she neared the weathered doors they creaked open, stopping her in her tracks. Rarely did anyone use that particular passage from the city and those that did possessed a key for the gate in the city. Those select few were the Solitude guardsmen and Vittoria Vici. This person, clad in a dark cloak, appeared to be neither.
As they turned toward the bridge leading to the harbor she frowned. This person was far too tall to be the Imperial noblewoman and no guardsman would wear armor as dark as night.
Not unless they wanted to be mistaken for a…thief.
"In the name of the Jarl," she yelled, reaching for the bow strapped to her back and nocking an arrow, "stop right there!"
The person froze and she cautiously inched closer, her arrow trained on their back.
"Hands where I can see them; no sudden movements," she ordered. She stared down the shaft of the arrow, her eyes fixed on his every move. He turned slowly and she noted the unsettling lack of footfalls. The man's – if it was a man –outfit looked as if it were made from the shadows themselves. Embossed on his chest was an odd symbol: a bird cradling a circle between its wings. Beneath his hood she saw a black mask completely covering his face. The armor was unlike any she'd ever seen but it would not deter her.
"Care to answer a few questions? Like why you're walking around in that get-up in the middle of the night?"
The cloaked man paused and grabbed his chin, as if thinking of a suitable answer. The gesture alone made her step forward, arrowhead aimed at his throat. His hand moved from his chin and a bright, violet orb filled his palm.
She knew a spell when she saw one. Upon seeing it she released the arrow, piercing only air. She drew another and braced for an unseen attack. The silence around her was deafening; her ears straining to hear footsteps, the flap of a cape – something, anything. The only thing she heard was her own muffled breathing.
"Show yourself coward!" she hissed. She turned to scan the road, the moonlight yielding nothing.
A small 'thunk' sounded against the back of her helm. She jumped and spun around in time for a small stone to hit her between the eyes before bouncing off.
The man in black stood behind her, hand on his hip in an insufferably casual way as he tossed another stone in his hand. He tilted his head in a manner she found far too mocking. Without another word, another thought, she fired her arrow. Sure enough, the bastard twisted quickly enough to avoid it. She moved to draw another but the man was suddenly upon her, reaching for her. She took a swing at him with the fist clutching her bow. He caught it, as she expected, and drove her knee into his stomach. He staggered back just enough for her to kick him away. He hit the rocks behind him with a grunt and slid to the ground. By the time he raised his head another arrow was nocked and aimed at his head.
"Stay where you are or I will kill you." The air of confidence in her voice was gone, leaving only frustration and anger. She'd be damned if she allowed the man to toy with her.
She could sense his eyes on her, staring at her beneath that annoying mask. As if to irritate her even more the man's shoulders began shaking. She narrowed her eyes. Was he…? He was… The bastard was laughing!
"Do not mock me, thief!" She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. It was bad enough she'd been reduced to sounding like a petulant child.
His shoulders shook even more. Gods help her she'd shoot him in the mouth just to ruin whatever smile hid beneath that mask.
Moments ticked away and they continued staring one another down. An unspoken impasse had settled between them. The man couldn't move without being shot and she couldn't apprehend him without withdrawing her arrow and leaving herself open to attack.
I could always kill him…
No, the man looked far too strange to kill without at least questioning him. Against her own desire to simply end the bastard, she knew she needed help.
She looked away from the man, searching down the road for any sign of the guards at the docks. In the corner of her eye she noticed movement. Looking back at her cornered suspect she paled when the sight of a spell, the same violet spell, was in his hand. The man waves before vanishing once again.
"No!" She cried and fired her arrow, hitting only rock. Sensing something brush past her she twisted and fired again, missing. Shooting two more useless shots at random she growled and threw her bow down. "Damn it!"
When empty silence surrounded her, she was certain she was alone once again. Whoever he was – whatever he was – was long gone.
Author's Note: This is the first Skyrim fanfiction that I've mustered enough courage to post. It's been a very, very long time since I've done anything with my profile here so I decided to dust it off and present this. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
P.S. I don't own anything Elder Scrolls related except my copy of the game and do not profit from this whatsoever. Also, the cover image used belongs to its rightful creator and I take no credit for it.