Disclaimer: Bethesda's game, I'm just messing about with it.

Rating: M, for forthcoming adult situations and content, violence, and language.

Pairing: F!Dragonborn/Brynjolf, F!Dragonborn/Rune

Note(s): Sequel to Rootless that I'm FINALLY posting. So sorry for the wait! Cover picture is art by NuPhoenix Visions (nuphoenix at Tumblrdotcom) Enjoy!

Stranger I know so well, you got me tripping over myself

Can't trust in you

'cause as I reach for your hand, I still sink into quicksand

Isn't my good side worth rescuing?

-Versa

The problem with gemstones was, when you were rifling around in someone's pocket, they all felt the same.

The Bannered Mare in Whiterun was full that night, people mostly sitting around the firepit, trading half-slurred stories back and forth. A bard was singing a song about Nord aggression, while in the corner, a lively game of dice was happening. Every now and again, a chorus of cheers or groans would rise, depending on how the dice fell. It was warm, almost too much so, a drop of sweat dribbling down the middle of Kara's back. The air smelled of meat roasting on a spit, fat dripping into the fire and hissing; sour wine and honeyed mead pouring into stained oak tankards; sweat and horses and tilled earth nearly overpowering, as the city's workers crowded in for some well-deserved free time before stumbling home to their husbands and wives.

A slight haze of smoke filled the room, stinging Kara's eyes, but she'd live. Well, depending on whether or not I can find this damn flawless ruby. She looked down at the jewel clutched in her fingers, nearly groaning. Amethyst, again.

Kara glanced up. She was standing at the bar, facing outward towards the crowd, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, like she might be waiting for someone. From a table nearby, a familiar woman with dark hair glowered over a tankard of mead; Kara resisted the urge to wave at her housecarl, knowing that if she did, Lydia would most likely not hesitate to shoot an arrow straight through her. After all, as she had been told many times in the past few months, her "criminal activities" were "dishonorable" but Kara knew all that meant was that Lydia was embarrassed at having to be the sworn protector of a twenty-year-old thief.

But, as Kara had learned, what doesn't kill you makes you ready for the next thing that comes your way. Usually.

She slyly dipped her hand back into the pocket of the man to her right, the one leaning forward on his barstool, enraptured by the blonde on his other side. She was the perfect distraction; with her in his line of sight, he would never know Kara existed. Kara frowned slightly at that thought. Even though I could have done this myself. She might have been a member of Skyrim's Thieves Guild, but that didn't mean they considered her experienced enough to go out on her own, even if she thought she had proved herself enough already.

Vex laughed, the sound high and bubbly, before leaning forward, her hand sliding up the man's knee. She was supposed to stall, but the longer it took Kara, the longer he'd be able to see through it. The job was to get the ruby and get out, but when the mark happened to be the apprentice of the town jewelcrafter, it was not the easy task they'd been promised.

"So, what do you say we get out of here?" the man asked, his words slurring slightly.

Vex was practically purring. "So soon? I'd love to just sit here and talk with you some more…"

Kara fiercely resisted the urge to mimic the sound of someone vomiting, slipping the amethyst back into his pocket. Divines, give me a ruby. If you love me, you will give me a ruby. When she retracted her hand, the gem was a deep sparkling blue. She wanted to scream. So much for being Dragonborn.

"We've talked for hours," the man whined, exaggerating as he reaching for her hand. "I am overcome with my desire for you. We must leave."

"One more drink," Vex commanded, smiling wickedly. "And then we'll go to your place and do anything you like."

He turned to summon the bartender, nearly noticing as Kara stuffed the sapphire back into his pocket. Behind his back, Vex dropped the sultry expression in exchange for one of fury, mouthing "What is the problem?" Kara shrugged, shaking her head, as the man ordered two more drinks for them. Vex just clenched her teeth and looked away.

Luckily, their mark didn't seem to notice. He handed her a newly refilled chalice of wine, while he guzzled his sixth consecutive tankard of mead. Kara took a deep breath, trying to stay focused, before she decided to try something else. She slid her hand back into his pocket, swift as a snake. He didn't feel it. She closed her fingers around four gems, pulling them out. If she grabbed four at one time, one of them had to be the ruby at some point, right?

As she was pulling her hand back, however, her closed fist caught on the man's trousers, yanking at the pocket before she was free. He felt it, looking down, frowning. Immediately, Vex stepped in, sliding off her barstool, standing in between his legs and wrapping her arms around him.

"I want you," she said suddenly. The man forgot all about his pocket and gazed at her in wonder, giving Kara the opportunity to step back.

Kara peered down into her hand, her heart pounding hard. Sitting there, with two amethysts and a sapphire, was the ruby, gleaming up at her as only a flawless jewel could. She quickly snatched it up, securing it in one of the many pockets in her leather armor. The other jewels she began placing back with Vex's hands nearby as a distraction, as the Imperial woman began practically professing her undying love for the mostly drunk Nord between them.

Vex was just starting to describe their upcoming night of thrilling passion when Kara's fingers fumbled as she was putting in the last amethyst. It tumbled away from her. She watched, horrified, as the gem seemed to take eons to fall. It dropped to the floor, bouncing, hitting the floor with a precious chink, before it rolled to a stop between Vex and the man's feet. They both looked down, staring, as Kara squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, cursing in her head.

"Is that one of my…" the man began, before Vex suddenly grabbed both sides off his head and kissed him full on the mouth. He seemed to forget what he was saying, wrapping an arm around her waist…for a moment.

Suddenly, he stood up and pushed her away; Vex grabbed the stool behind her to support herself, looking manic in the half-light. "Wait a minute," the man said loudly, turning to glance between both of them. "You…you two were playing me! You're thieves!"

A hush fell over the inn, as nearly everyone turned to stare. The bard went silent, gaping at the two of them. Lydia sank down in her seat, only her eyes and the top of her head visible over her tankard.

"We're…we're not thieves," Kara stuttered. "No, we're just…rehearsing a play!"

"There's such a thing as knowing when you've been beaten, kid," Vex mumbled.

Several of the sellswords in the corner stood up, their drink and games forgotten. A Redguard woman tending a spit took one look at them before running for the door.

"And that would be our cue to leave?"

Vex nodded.

They had gone a step when the man grabbed Kara, his fingers tightening around her wrist. "Damn dirty thieves," he hissed, eyes unfocused. "Making off with my property. Why don't I just stick you where it hurts instead?" Too late Kara saw the glint of a dagger in his hand.

She wriggled in his grasp uselessly, but the blade was nearing her, and there wasn't time—

He gasped suddenly, back arching. The dagger dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor. Vex was behind him, baring her teeth, a bloody dagger held high in her fist. Wrenching him away from Kara, she spun around, showing him to the rest of the tavern, her eyes wild. "Stay away from us, peasants. Anyone runs for the guard, and he dies."

Kara stared at her. "Did you kill him?" she asked, her voice high-pitched.

"No, it's just a flesh wound. Come on." Kicking the man away from her, the two of them scampered out the door and into the wintry night.

"What in Oblivion is wrong with you?" Vex shouted, when they were on their horses and away, heading back to Riften through the woods. They had run as fast as they could down to the stables, and had continued the breakneck speed until they were well away from the range of any archers' arrows. "Are you clumsy, or just plain stupid?"

"I'm sorry, okay? Each time I pulled something out, it was the wrong one!"

"Then why did you keep putting them back in?"

Kara's mouth opened, before she shut it again. "I…hadn't thought of that."

"Clearly. You did get the ruby, right? Please tell me you finally grabbed it before nearly ruining this entire thing. The client wanted the flawless ruby, so if you got something else—"

"Of course I got the flawless one! And I notice you're not mentioning you stabbing that guy. If he ends up dying, Mercer is going to be furious."

"Don't you recite the rules at me, newcomer," Vex replied scathingly. "If I have to, I'll just blame it on you. With your record of late, it'll be all too easy to believe it. And you're welcome, by the way, for saving your pathetic life. Wait until Mercer hears about this…"

It seemed like Mercer was always hearing about something or other these days – usually with Kara in the middle of it. It wasn't that she wasn't trying, but being a professional thief was so much different than how she had imagined it. For example, the rules. There were so many! She couldn't steal from certain houses, something she'd learned the hard way, after getting a push down a short flight of stairs from Delvin, the creator of a code known as "shadowmarks" – indicators of where to steal, and where not to. It would just figure she would pick the one house that was marked with the one symbol meaning it was protected by the guild. She couldn't steal from certain people (again with the shadowmarks), she couldn't kill anyone, and worse yet, she couldn't even go out on her own yet, forced to lag behind what Vex liked to call "the real thieves", the ones she usually ended up acting as a pack mule for.

That was the real problem. Working with the others was messing with her head. When it had been with Brynjolf, that was fine; he understood her little quirks and unbalances, trusting her to get the job done regardless. Everyone else treated her like the annoying kid sister that followed them around asking stupid questions. There was so much pressure to do right by them that she was constantly weighing her every action, instead of following her instincts.

She had never felt the burden of so many rules when she was running around with her father. Perhaps that was why they'd been caught and sent to prison; maybe then, they could have used more rules, but this… it was becoming too much. Hadn't she proved herself? Not only had she scored the guild a priceless artifact—and from a Daedric Prince, no less—but she had assisted in two of the jobs that got them back on the radar and back in business. Even if the artifact had disappeared, the fact that they were getting jobs again had to count for something!

Kara considered asking Brynjolf about it, before she remembered: He was still in Solitude with Cynric, a Breton and former jail-breaker that Kara had bonded with after the two of them had shared a number of gory prison stories that made the other thieves groan. They weren't expected back for a number of days yet, and Brynjolf's absence, like many things, was beginning to wear on her.

He was the first person that Kara had really met in Riften who was a part of the Thieves Guild, after a botched pickpocketing attempt that somehow ended up with him holding her coinpurse. Initially, she had distrusted him, but after a journey across the frosty landscape that culminated in him saving her life several times, she eventually grew to like him—most days. He had been her accomplice, her associate, her occasional mentor, and friend; if it hadn't been for him, she might never have come back to Skyrim. In fact, he might have been the biggest reason she had decided to come back to Skyrim, if she was being totally honest with herself. Of course, those were the times when she frightened herself the most, wishing she could go on lying to herself as easily as she could to other people.

If she was being truly and completely honest, just the thought of the red-headed Nord was enough to make her blush silver in the moonlight. She slid a sidelong glance at Vex, to make sure she hadn't noticed; the Imperial woman was still muttering angrily to herself. That suited Kara just fine, as it gave her time to think over her and Brynjolf's unique "friendship" yet again, as she had for the hundredth time since returning to Skyrim. What had started as an alliance had progressed into easy friendship, but it hadn't quite halted there like it should have. They had kissed once on the infamous Windhelm heist, and she knew she shouldn't think about it, knew she shouldn't care, since he had told her it was just business, but she couldn't stop herself. She knew, she had felt it, that he had kissed her back, and there was a moment in there where the city faded to fog in the background, and it stopped being business. But getting that moment back proved impossible, as she seemed like the only one who knew it. She and Brynjolf had talked many times before his voyage, but he was always so busy that there hadn't been time for anything else.

You need to quit thinking about it. She had told herself that every day since she'd been gone and every day since she'd returned, but she still couldn't make herself believe it, couldn't make herself do it. It was stupid, and she knew it—after all, she knew little to nothing about him—but he was there in her mind all the same. Sometimes she wished he'd never kissed her, that their friendship had stayed the way it was and she didn't have to worry about whether or not a kiss that she may or may not have wanted would ever come again.

She looked up at the sky, at the constellations glimmering so high above. The moon was a crescent, a sardonic grin looking down on her, as if it had seen her utter disaster of a job tonight. She scowled up at it, and suddenly it was Brynjolf's grin and she wanted to shoot an arrow at it, to break the moon into a thousand starry pieces. She sighed loudly; Vex looked over with a glare. Kara sat up in her saddle, looking as alert as possible, while Vex rolled her eyes.

At least, in the midst of all things, Kara still had Rune.

Once they entered the cool valleys of Rift, the air thick with mist, they left their horses at Snow-Shod Farm, whose owners were friends with the guild, before walking the rest of the way to Riften. Vex didn't say a single word, and Kara knew she was still angry, still planning on running to Mercer like a mouthy child who had a secret. By the time they strode through the south gate, she was too tired and too hungry to even care. Let Mercer scream at me, she thought, blearily peering around at the sleeping town. I've got nothing to lose.

Now that Kara was a fully-fledged member of the Thieves Guild, she had access to the mysterious back room she'd always wondered about, the real seat of operations: the Cistern. There was, of course, the door through the hidden passageway in the Ragged Flagon, the tavern in the sewers, but there was also the entrance in the mausoleum of the Riften cemetery. Vex pushed the button on the sarcophagus with her toe while Kara served as a lookout. The sarcophagus slid open with the sound of grinding stone, and down the stairs they went. Vex pulled the chain to close it, and they descended into the trapdoor.

The Cistern was a large, round room with a high vaulted ceiling. Around the walls of the room were the beds and chests full of belongings, the desks where Mercer crammed all his paperwork, the shelves full of books and dishes, the tables where they ate and talked over each other. In the center of the room, however, was a platform extending up over the water surrounding it like a moat. When they arrived, it was that time between night and morning, when the sun was just starting to rise, the stars just beginning to fade, and the Cistern was a flurry of activity. One thing Kara had learned in her time with the guild was how there was no time for thieving like the present—some thieves went out at night, working the homes of the sleeping folk and the shops with easily picked locks; others went out in the daylight, hands slipping into pockets, knives cutting purse strings, distracting shopkeepers while others fixed the books in back rooms. She had worked nights for the past week, so for her, it was time to sleep; for others like Sapphire, the day was just beginning.

They passed the sharp Nord woman as they stepped out of the alcove housing the ladder. She was pulling on her boots, her eyes the red of the recently wakened, her hair a mess. She smirked at them, looking at Vex.

"How'd it go?"

Vex made a tch sound before stomping off across the little bridge before them that led to the platform in the middle of the room, heading straight for Mercer where he was already dressed and hunched over his desk. Sapphire and Kara watched her go.

"That bad, huh?"

"It wasn't my fault," Kara automatically said.

Sapphire rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I think I've heard that before."

Kara ignored that, stifling a yawn. "You pickpocketing today?"

"As always. I gotta go. You better report in to Mercer before you go to sleep; he's like to be pissed at you anyways, so you don't want to make it worse."

Kara watched her walk away. They hadn't been the best of friends—or at all, really, since Sapphire had once broken Kara's nose—but she had recently started to loosen up around her fellow Nord, and they'd managed to carry on a total of two conversations without snapping at each other. She considered that progress.

Kara was about to head across the platform herself, resigned to her fate, when somebody tapped her on the shoulder.

"Good morning," Rune said amiably, smiling at her. His brown eyes were lively, but his long brown hair was slightly tangled; he must have just gotten up. "How did it go?"

She felt some of the tension ease out of her. In Brynjolf's absence, she had turned to Rune, the easy-going Imperial she'd met while pulling off the Clavicus Vile heist four months before. They'd gotten along well then, and it continued now, which Kara took as a good sign. Most people in and out of the guild found her annoying, exasperating, or both, so it was nice to find someone who actually enjoyed her company.

"Horribly," Kara said miserably, honestly, her shoulders slumping. "I nearly got us both caught and killed. Wait. I did get us caught, and nearly got us killed. Vex had to stab some guy, and it just—it did not go well."

Rune's face crumpled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Kara. But you know these things happen. Especially when—"

"—you're new. I know." She'd heard it so many times she was starting to be sick of it. Still, she smiled at Rune. "You're up early. I thought you were on nights."

"I was. Delvin wanted me along with him to meet with Maven in case he puts his foot in his mouth and nearly gets castrated again."

Kara grinned at the memory. "Right, good times." She thought about the woman who essentially funded their operation, Maven Black-Briar. She was another one Kara had managed to piss off within her first week in Riften. Since then, she'd made herself scarce when the matriarch of the Black-Briar family came calling. "What does our illustrious patron want?"

Rune shrugged. "She's got some jobs, I suppose. Something about an old contact."

"Oh, well that's good." Kara looked around at the dripping Cistern around them, at the conversations that carried in eerie echoes. "We could use something new around here."

"Yeah, things have been unusually quiet of late. I bet Mercer has something up his sleeve."

Kara barely stifled a groan. "Oh, I hope not. I've had enough of him and his sleeves."

"Just his sleeves?" She nudged Rune, and he laughed. "Oh, come on. You know Mercer has the guild's best interests at heart."

"Yeah, I just wish…" There was a banging sound from above; Kara looked up, frowning. "Did you hear that?"

Rune followed her gaze. "Hear what?"

"I don't know." She stared at the old stone for a moment, before shaking her head. "Must've been nothing."

Rune smiled patiently. "You sound exhausted, Kara. You should get to bed."

"Can't." Kara looked across the chamber, where she could just see their guild master through the faint falling light above the platform.

Rune grimaced. "Right. I should be on my way as well. I'll see you whenever we return. Will you be here?"

"Most likely." She grabbed his arm as he turned to go, stopping him from leaving. "Rune? Thank you."

He flashed her a grin, his dark brown hair falling in his eyes. When he smiled, he seemed younger and so carefree that she couldn't help smiling back. "Of course." He patted her arm once before he was off, joining Sapphire and Vipir the Fleet as they prepared to leave.

Kara watched them go before sighing heavily, dragging herself around the circular stone path. She could have gone straight to Mercer and Vex across the platform, but why hurry to her funeral? If these were her last moments as a living thief, she wanted to enjoy them.

She looked around as the guild began to empty out. Sapphire, Vipir, Delvin, Rune, Brynjolf, and Cynric were all gone. Tonilia, the guild's fence, was in the Ragged Flagon where she always was with the owner, her lover, Vekel. The beds arranged around the room were mostly empty save for three; if she had to guess, she'd say they were occupied by Thrynn and Niruin, all of whom had been working the night before like her and Vex. She wished they were awake so she could stop by and talk, as anything to delay her from seeing their guild master.

It wasn't that she didn't like Mercer. She did, in her own way. It was just that he was so damn prickly. He had a stern, pinched face; his eyes beady and red from poring over accounts and letters; his hands always rubbing his temples when he was frustrated. He was sarcastic and mean, constantly annoyed for some reason, and usually yelling at someone. Of late, that someone had been her, for all manner of reasons, mostly involving jobs. Once, though, he'd been on her back about the way she'd bound her hair; he deemed her wild curls too noticeable, too memorable, and had demanded she cut them off. There were a lot of things she was willing to take, like his constant criticism of her techniques and how she simply just wasn't as good as he'd thought she was, but there were some things she wouldn't do for anyone. She refused, he raged, and they'd forgotten about the whole thing a week later. Still, his favorite straw man of late had been her, and she was not looking forward to the diatribe she'd earn this morning.

She knew it was going to be bad when he immediately looked up at her as she approached. Vex was sitting in a chair beside his desk, leaning back on two legs, her feet up on the corner of the desk. Mercer had been reading a letter, and usually when people approached him, he ignored them until he was finished, but this time he looked right up at Kara before shoving the letter aside.

"What happened?" he asked, his teeth clenched.

The default answer sprang into Kara's mind. "It wasn't my fault."

"Explain."

"Okay. The mark you sent us after was the jewelcrafter's apprentice. Which, we should have guessed. I mean, have you seen that woman? She's probably been old since the Second Era; of course she needs an apprentice to take over for her."

Mercer didn't say anything. His face remained fixed in the same expression of impatient annoyance.

"So he had all these gems in his pocket, not just the ruby. And I don't know if you've ever noticed, but all gems feel the same. Even flawless ones."

"No, they don't," Vex piped up. "Some feel differently than others. You're just inexperienced—"

"Oh, bullshit," Kara snapped, making a face. "I bet even if you, glorified infiltrator, stuck your hand in that man's pocket, you wouldn't be able to tell a ruby from a piece of common coal."

Vex sprang up from her seat, jabbing her finger in Kara's direction. "Now you listen to me—"

"Enough," Mercer said loudly, rubbing at one of his temples. "It's too early for this kind of shit. It's enough that Kara is an idiot; I don't need to have her blood cleaned up off the floor, too. But you," he barked, looking to Kara with a severe glare. "You are stupid. You nearly botched the entire job and forced Vex's hand!"

"I know—"

"Do you? Because this is the third time I've had to talk to you in the last three weeks. Why did we even accept you?" Mercer raised his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. "I told Brynjolf it was a stupid idea, that we should take you on as a pledge before initiating you so you could get some more experience, but no—"

Kara's mind drifted, going fuzzy; she swayed on her feet. There were only so many no's that her body could take before it shut down of its own accord.

A hand waved in front of her face. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes!" Kara said immediately, nodding and standing up straight. "Yes, Brynjolf was stupid, yeah."

Mercer raised his eyebrows. "Are you criticizing my second-in-command, now?"

"Yeah, I think—wait, what?" She shook her head, frowning. "You said…"

"Be quiet! Anyway, as I was saying, Brynjolf put too much faith in you, thinking you were capable, and I have no idea why. Frankly, I think something happened when the two of you went to Winterhold—there's even a bet going on—and I don't care if it's true or not, but if it is, it would explain his grave misjudge of…"

She scowled indignantly, about to ask about the so-called bet, when there was a shout from behind them. They all turned to look. It was Rune; he looked as though he had been running. "Mercer," he said, breathing labored. "Maven's requesting your presence."

If anything, he looked more annoyed that someone had interrupted his tirade. "Now?"

Rune nodded. "Apparently she doesn't trust Delvin. Something about incidents in the past..."

"Yes, she would bring that up, wouldn't she?" Mercer sighed, throwing down his quill. "Fine. Vex, Kara, get some sleep. I'll be back later, and we'll deal with you when you wake up. Understand?"

Kara nodded wearily. She could barely think, much less fight back anymore. Waving goodbye to Rune, who merely winked in response, she turned to follow them towards the ladder out. She didn't get far before Vex stopped her, grabbing her by the arm.

Kara wanted to sigh so badly that her body created the action, shoulders slumping as she turned to face Vex. "Yes?"

"Look, you got off pretty easy right now; Mercer tends to rant when left to his own devices. But the fact of the matter is that you screwed up, and when you screw up, it makes me and everyone else in the guild look bad. I don't know what you think you know about us, but if there's one thing we hate, it's when we look bad." Vex cocked an eyebrow. "You get what I'm saying?"

Kara nodded.

"I know you think we're pretty hard on you – and let's face it, we are – but that's because Brynjolf made us believe you were going to be some sort of game-changer, that you were going to be the one to turn things around for us." Vex looked around, lowering her voice slightly. "Besides, with your, ah, condition... Well, let's just say we had high expectations."

Kara looked away, swallowing hard. So far, they'd managed to keep it under wraps from the rest of the guild that she was Dragonborn – or as some people believed, the Dragonborn – and while she knew that she couldn't hide it forever, she was content to let it remain a secret from everyone else. It was bad enough that the senior members of the guild treated her differently, doing exactly as Vex said and heightening their expectations, but she also wanted to stay anonymous just a little bit longer. Without the title hanging over her head, she was just Kara Quick-Draw, that girl who'd joined the guild thinking to make a fortune, if only she could get her head on right. She wanted them to know her like that, instead of the way she had been chosen, the way she had been born, if that was even the case.

"Yeah, well..." Kara ran a hand through her wild curls, making them fall even more wildly than they had before. "Brynjolf likes to talk. A lot. And he says a lot of things."

Vex nodded. "True. But often he says the right things."

"Sometimes he doesn't?"

"Sometimes he doesn't," Vex agreed. "I personally don't care either way what happens to you, but you might want to think about proving him right, before Mercer—and everyone else—starts thinking he's wrong."

Kara frowned. She wasn't entirely sure, but she felt like there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere. "Uh. Thanks, I guess."

"Whatever. Go to sleep, before you fall into the cistern and drown. Not that I care, mind you. I just don't want to have to explain that to Mercer."

"Yeah, yeah." Shaking her head to clear it somewhat, Kara headed for the trapdoor. When she emerged from the mausoleum, the sun was brightly shining, surprising her so much that she stood there for a moment, blinking up at the sky in confusion. Sometimes, being down in the Ratway, she forgot that there was another sky, one where the sun might be wide awake and burning vividly.

It was the near the end of Morning Star, and still as fiercely cold as it had been the day she'd come back to Skyrim. Kara pulled the travel cloak Brynjolf had once stolen for her more tightly around her, shivering beneath it even as she did so. Her father might have given her his Nordic blood, but it did nothing to make her heartier against the chill. Frost glittered on the stones of the marketplace, and when Kara breathed, she could see it in the little white clouds spinning away from her. Skyrim's weather did nothing to deter its inhabitants, and the Riften marketplace was already drawing a crowd. Kara recognized some familiar faces heckling and offering goods as she passed, hurrying towards the Bee and Barb to the sounds of Balimund's forge blazing and the chattering of the early shoppers.

Keerava, the Argonian proprietor of the inn, was too busy serving breakfast to guests to say hello to Kara, so she just trudged up the stairs to the second floor, mouth stretched wide in a yawn that made her jaw ache. Unlocking her room with the key she kept tied on a throng around her neck, she immediately yanked her cloak off and shut the door behind her. To her joy, there was already a fire going in her room. To keep her position in the guild a secret, Kara had told Keerava that she liked to explore caves at night, something the woman had found strange, but considering Kara's reputation, believable. Since then, she had accepted Kara's inverted schedule and made sure to keep a fire going in Kara's room at dawn, to keep her warm while she slept.

Throwing the cloak on the chair in the corner, Kara began shucking her armor, leaving it strewn across the floor. Before she climbed into bed, she went to the wardrobe that stood tall against the opposite wall. She threw the doors open, before shoving aside the clothes hanging inside, reaching for the trigger in the top corner. The false back popped, the panel sliding open to reveal what she had been keeping hidden from almost everyone in the guild: a map of Skyrim hung up on the back wall, and below it, her notes.

One of the reasons she had come back to the Thieves Guild—besides the thrill, the idea of wealth, and Brynjolf—was their font of knowledge. They were well-connected, especially through Maven Black-Briar, whose contacts seemed limitless; it was these contacts that Kara was interested in to help her with what she needed to do.

For three months, she had trained with the Greybeards. She had slept on a hard pallet, worn their ridiculous threadbare robes, and eaten their bland food. She had gotten up when they told her, did chores, helped cook, and went to bed when the candles burned low. Most importantly of all, she had learned the way of the Voice, how to change and control her breath, how to give shape to the knowledge she absorbed from dragons. It had been difficult, learning to bridle something that Arngeir, one of the Greybeards, told her was wild and powerful, but she had managed. The Greybeards had given her several trials to complete towards the end of her training, the last of which she was in the middle of now.

"Return to us the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller," Arngeir had said. "Then your training shall be complete."

"Where can I find it?"

"This is your last trial, Dragonborn, and as such, it is the penultimate test of your worth. We shall be offering you no assistance this time."

She remembered the way she had raged in her quarters at the monastery when she'd heard that, so angry she could have Shouted them all right off their stupid mountain. Or, she would have tried anyway; no doubt they could kill her with just a whisper. Still, it had been a nice mental image for her as she began to face the magnitude of what they were asking her. Eventually, she had adjusted to the idea of finding it alone, even taking it as a challenge – and that was definitely what it was turning out to be. Every book and resource she'd found so far was either vague or differing in accounts of what precisely happened to Jurgen Windcaller and his horn. She had pinpointed a few locations, but none of them seemed promising. She had hoped the Thieves Guild might be able to change that for her.

Finished examining the map, reminding herself of her task, she closed and secured her wardrobe before crawling beneath the blankets and furs of her bed, burying her head beneath her pillow and closing her eyes.

Yes, life in Skyrim was not everything she thought it would be when she decided to return. She'd messed up more times than she cared to count, and that was barely in the last month alone. But what was important was that she had a purpose, she had a job, and in the life of a thief, that was what mattered more than anything.

If she looked at life as a legendary dragonslayer, she was almost sure she wouldn't be able to hack it. But if she approached the situation as a thief, Kara thought she just might be able to save the world.