Disclaimer thingy: I don't own Skyrim, or any of the in-game characters. I only own Azalea.

Fate. I can't say I've ever heard two people agree on the prospect of "fate." I've heard some say that our fates are chosen, that everything from the moment of our birth to the moment of our death is scripted by the Divines. I've heard that fate is like a river; you can throw a stone into the flow of time and cause it to ripple, but in the end, it won't redirect the river. I've heard of changing your fate. I've heard of writing your own destiny. I've even heard that fate doesn't exist at all.

Whatever the case, fate had not been kind to me. My name is Azalea Sunfire, and my path has been one of shadow from the moment I was born to this moment now. This is the moment I die.

I'm lying on the floor of a ruin. The floor is hard and cold, typical of Nordic architecture. I can't move, can't speak, can't scream or cry for help. Can't curse out my betrayer. I can only pray to the Divines, and hope that there's some corner of the Void that I can take solace in during death.

The arrow is lodged in my shoulder, poison from its tip seeping into my bloodstream. The arrow is the least of my concerns. I can feel the wound in my side, my blood slowly seeping out of the gash in a warm, sticky waterfall. Even now, as I think these last thoughts, I'm getting dizzy. The world is fading away, and it's taking me along with it.

As the tomb fades from existence, I feel one last spark of victory. With my death, the Traitor has no hope of living. He'll die, just like everyone else, in a blaze of hellfire from Oblivion itself. Alduin will destroy him. He will destroy all of them. In killing me, he had destroyed the world.

I can't see anything anymore. The world is dark, swallowing me in a cloud of inky black. Death wasn't so bad. I welcome it, welcome the Void, where I will inevitably go when I perish. So much for love, and hope, and joy. I guess I never really had anything to live for. Not since I was a girl, and the horrors of the world hadn't closed in on me yet.

I guess that there was one thing I still loved in life. I can hear his voice, his laughter, his warm hands holding my own. And suddenly, remembering him, I don't want to die. I don't want the Void to take me yet. If there is still something in life worth living for, I wasn't going to lose it. But it's too late for me. And I find myself struggling to breathe, to do anything, before I lose what little consciousness I had before.

One year earlier…

Made it to Riften today. Some guards tried to get me to pay them to let me in. Obviously a ruse. Got in for free. Obviously. I'm staying in the inn, the Bee and Barb. It's nice enough in here, but I got some sidelong glances from the locals. It's warranted, because the majority of my items don't really belong to me… but a girl's gotta do what she needs to survive, even if it means that a thousand stolen septims find their home in my pocket. Honestly, I can't believe that no one has taken suspicion… although the red-haired merchant seemed to be eyeing me. Probably because I downed three bottles of mead without flinching in front of him.

With a somewhat sad sigh, I closed my journal and placed it in my bag. I thought that making it to Riften would help my situation, and while I'd gotten some more coin in my pocket, I still wasn't able to withdraw from my… personal habits of robbery and pickpocketing. Yes, it helped my situation and yes, I was a bit wealthier than I deserved, but I didn't want to spend my life pinching amethysts off of rich people. If there was a job that fit the description (which there most certainly was not. I mean, why would anyone be paid for thievery?) I would sign up in a heartbeat. But there was no such job, and for now, I wandered the streets of Riften, ready to relieve people of any excess riches.

There's a tiny nagging voice in the corner of my mind. You aren't here for work, Zale. You're here to avoid the mountain.

I ignore it. I don't need to go to the damn mountain to complete my destiny. The Greybeards could wait. I wasn't about to sell my life to some monks who seemed to think I could magically scream my way out of any situation.

I could try to fall asleep again. But in my mind, I know that it will be the same. I'll put my head down and shut my eyes, and I'll just see the same thing. Ebony wings. Eyes red with bloodlust. Teeth sharp as daggers and three times as deadly. The dragon from Helgen. Alduin.

The moon is slowly sinking. I give up on sleep, and instead force myself to walk to the Shrine of Talos. I take a mountain flower out of my bag and place it solemnly in front of the shrine, offering my prayers to the Ninth Divine. By the time I'm finished, the sun is starting to rise, and the marketplace has come to life.

There are vendors about, each of them trying to sell their products. An argonian jeweler, a dunmer pawnbroker, a red-haired nord who looks like he's selling potions. There's a few others, but these three really stand out. Probably because they have the most valuable items.

Which, admittedly, isn't the best trait to have, but to me, it's the most important for survival. Anyone can be bought off if you try hard enough, except perhaps the Thalmor and the dragons. And when it comes down to it, one of them is an inhumane breed of killers who seek nothing but to further their own power and crush any who oppose them, and the other is a lizard with wings. Kind of difficult to buy, even with all the septims in the world.

I wonder if the Thalmor ban our currency next, because it has the name "Septim" in it, and Tiber Septim became Talos.

But I digress. I need to get to work. Moving quietly and quickly, I nick some of the Argonian's jewelry and move towards the nord. I don't think he sees me. He's too intent on selling some sort of elixir, which is almost certainly fake. I pretend to listen to him, barely hiding my laughter. People really bought this ruse?

The group of people around him cleared out, leaving only me and the man. He was the one eyeing me last night. I slip away, behind his stall, where hopefully he can't see me. Something about him made me uneasy. He wasn't just a merchant.

A voice interrupts my thoughts. "Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?" He doesn't even turn around, but the question was obviously directed at me.

I casually lean against the wall, pretending to inspect a ruby. "I'm sorry, what?"

He turned so I could see his face. "I'm saying you've got the coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. It's a dead giveaway."

I glance down at my outfit. My Stormcloak cuirass I'd gotten from Helgen was long gone, and was replaced with a scaled substitute, that may or may not have been bought with stolen money. I looked back up at him. "My wealth is none of your business."

He smirked. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?"

I won't lie, I'm intrigued. Maybe I can humor him, for now. "What do you have in mind?"

"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid."

I'll start by saying that I'm not an errand girl. But his tone of voice… he wasn't talking about me simply retrieving ten fire salts for him, or some other nonsense like that.

"What do I have to do?"

"Simple... I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

Put the ring… in someone else's pocket… I won't lie, I'm more of a steal everything and keep it for myself person. But if I'm getting paid, it might just be worth it. Still, I don't know why I'm doing this. I have to ask. "Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?"

"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business permanently. That's all you need to know. Now, you tell me when you're ready and we'll get started."

I swear, I've got a million questions. But in my experience, I get the job done first, ask the questions second. Life is too short to ask about every little detail. Besides, this man doesn't seem like the type of person who wants his time wasted.

"I'm ready. Let's get this started."

I walk over near Madesi's stall and pretend to busy myself with his jewelry. The man began babbling about some sort of falmerblood elixir.

Even the guards are looking away. Good. I crouch down and fiddle with the sliding door, which unlocks rather easily. The strongbox is a bit more difficult. I end up breaking a pick and making a loud sound, but I don't think anyone notices. With the second, I'm in. There's a large coin purse and a ring in the box. I take both. One can never be too careful. Ring in hand, I sneak over to Brand-Shei. He's sitting on some crates, back turned to me. Almost too easy.

Ring in hand, I slowly slide it over to him. My fingers are almost inr each. Slowly, I maneuver the ring from the palm of my hand into my fingers, and then, ever so carefully, into his pocket. I step back and nod to the man- Brynjolf, someone called him, and he ends his ruse and walks over to me. He's smiling, which is good. If I had messed that up, it would have been disastrous.

Well, if this wasn't intriguing. "What's been going on?"

"Bah. My organization's been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there's more where that came from... if you think you can handle it."

I mean… if there's anything I'm good at, it's breaking the law. And if I'm being paid to do that, I don't really see what there is to lose. Not to mention Brynjolf and his accent was a bit of a deal sweetener.

I mentally kick myself. I wasn't going to allow myself to fall victim to any feelings for anyone just yet. I'd only just met the man, and I have a policy: trust no one but yourself. In my experience, having others to drag me down is synonymous with weakness. I can't hesitate because someone I care about is on the receiving end of a blade, so I choose not to care at all. It might not be the best emotionally, but it's how I've survived for so long.

"I can handle it."

Brynjolf grinned. "All right, then. Let's put that to the test. The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften... a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece and we'll see if you've really got what it takes."

I don't know what I'm going to face, but I know that it's better than what's going on right now. After all, what's the worst that can happen?

And that's the first chapter of my first Skyrim fanfic! This Dragonborn, Azalea, is one of three who I will potentially write about. I might mention the other two on this story- warrior Anduial Goldenblade and mage Brienna Stormlight, but they'll be side characters. Azalea (my favorite) is the focus. More about her physical appearance in the next chapter, when I shift viewpoints to Bryn.

Let me know if you liked it by leaving a review, and constructive criticism is appreciated (just don't flame me please!) I'll update again soon!

~Silver