It's always the same dream. A girl, her hair flaming copper beneath the afternoon sun, throwing stones in a stream. She sits in the shade of a tree, tattered boots kicked aside to allow her toes to dig into the rich earth. It's a quiet day, a good day, and she rolls her eyes when sudden shouting breaks her peace. Standing up, she doesn't bother to brush her dirtied dress off, looking towards the road.

"Stop it!" A boy protests, jumping up to try and snatch something out of a taunting hand above his head. "My father bought that for me! Stop!"

An older boy, freckled and gawky, laughs. His friend aside him nudges him with an elbow, then shoves the pleading lad. She watches, tilting her head slightly. She hasn't seen them before, but then again she hasn't been her very long. She doesn't miss the orphanage in Skingrad. It's prettier here, more open. Sometimes, if she tries her hardest, she can imagine the mountains again, can feel the chill of the northern winds on her skin.

"Stop it!"

The girl draws closer now, interrupting. She looks up at the teasing boy, gray-green eyes meeting his own. "You shouldn't take things from other people. It isn't polite." The fighting stops.

"Who the-?" The stockier of the two blinks, the taller still holding the toy above the younger boy's head. "Piss off!"

The girl simply blinks and repeats herself. The boy sends a confused glance towards her, his brown eyes wide with confusion and suspicion. "No! He was too stupid to lose it, so it's finder's keepers."

"I didn't lose it!" The boy shouts angrily, jumping once again in a failed attempt to reach it. "You stole it!"

"Then you should have kept a closer eye on it!" There's a shove and the girl glares, watching the boy tumble back into the dusty road. A moment later, the bully tumbles over himself, clutching his stomach. The other turns, startled by the sudden cry of his friend, only to receive a swift blow to the jaw. The boy simply watches, lip bleeding and eyes wide, as the girl with the flaming hair scares them off. A minute later, the two are gone, sprinting down the road in humiliation, leaving them alone.

The girl picks the toy up and brushes it off. It's a simple thing, costing no more than a few septims, but she sees the boy's tattered clothes and understands it must mean much to him. She hands it out to him and he stares for a minute, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "Here. It isn't broken. You needn't worry," She offers and he accepts it a moment later.

"Why did you do that?" He questions, slowly rising and brushing himself off.

She shrugs, "It was yours." The boy gives her a funny look and she smiles a bit. "You should be more careful."

"Thank you," He replies after a pause, glancing down and tracing a thumb over the curves of the wooden ship. "I don't think they'll bother me again, not after what you did."

"You should learn to fight," She replies simply, her wild hair gleaming as she pushes it over her shoulder. "No one will bother you then."

"What's your name?"

"Sidri."

"Do you live in town? I haven't seen you before."

"You didn't tell me your name. It's rude to ask a name without giving your own."

The boy blinks, looking down at the hand suddenly extended towards him. The girl smiles as he timidly shakes it. He's different from the other boys at the orphanage and the ones who make fun of her when she walks through the street, quieter, smarter. She can see it in his eyes. "Martin." He replied with a nod, "My name is Martin."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Her eyes opened instantly. Gasping for breath, she sat upright, shaking and soaked with her own sweat despite the chill of the cell. Her trembling fingers pulled her damp hair away from her eyes and behind her ears, her heart racing inside her slender chest. Sidri took a great, deep breath and worked to calm herself, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. It hadn't been an unpleasant dream, if anything it should have been one comforting, but all the same she rose and began to pace to clear herself of it.

"What have we here? Such pale skin and bright hair, hm, surely a Nord, but all the way in the Imperial City?" A leering voice called out to her from across the hall and she turned. "My my, you're certainly far from home, aren't you?" Sidri rolled her eyes, electing to ignore the fellow prisoner. He continued, "Heard you panting over there. Having some nightmares? Need a bit of company to drive those dark dreams away while you sleep?" She remained silent, bristling with anger and embarrassment that her night terrors had caused her to be loud enough that she could be heard in the cell over. "You're never going home," The man continued to taunt, his face obscured by the shifting torchlight, "You're going to die in here. You'll never-"

"Have you a name?" She interrupted suddenly, voice soft in its honesty.

The man was caught off guard by that, but replied snarkly, "Why? You want to-"

Sidri waved a hand nonchalantly, stepping closer to the bars to allow him to see her shrug. "No, it'll just be easier to give the Dark Brotherhood a name than a description once I'm let out of here."

He went silent at that and she turned, running a hand once more than her bright locks. It was an empty threat but it had worked all the same, shutting the Dunmer up. It infuriated her, having to be here in the first place, locked away in some dank cell with the rest of the scum of the Imperial City. Sidri was a fine thief, an excellent one if she was allowed her pride, and she fancied herself far above the average pickpocket. She had never been caught before, not since since moving here, and it had been naught but absurdly poor luck that had been responsible for her arrest. It should have been been a simple job and even Armand had emphasized how easy it would be for a burglar of her caliber. Simply sneak into a house and take the journal of some merchant thought to be overselling his wares; a quick job, more practice than anything.

However, as she had emerged from the house in the dead of night, cowl drawn over her face and journal tucked firmly beneath her arm, Sidri found she had not been alone in the street. She had memorized the patterns of the guards walking the street, knew intricately where they would be and where they would not at any given time of the night, but somehow she had all but walked into Hieronymous Lex. She had tried her best to flee, but upon rounding a corner she had sprinted straight into another guard, one that shouldn't have been, had no reason to be there.

Thrilled that he had caught one of the Guild he so despised, Sidri had been all but flung into her cell three days ago. Certain that her brethren in the Guild would be unable to get her out of prison, try as they might, Sidri had absently paced between the damp stone walls, determined to keep herself from thinking of the noose that might be waiting at the end of all this.

She glanced up as she heard voices once more, voice different from the guards that had done their rounds up and down the hall for the past few days. Tilting her head, Sidri was able to make out talk of someone's sons, their possible deaths. A brow perked in interest and she listened closely, striving to hear more, then froze suddenly as she heard 'Sire." Two guards, dressed in armor finer than she had ever seen, suddenly rounded the corner and she blinked in absolute disbelief as she met the gaze of the older man with them.

He smiled at her reassuringly, even as the guards leading him ordered her to back away and stand at the end of the cell, seemingly furious she was there at all. His robes were breathtakingly regal, gilded in colors and fabrics that cost more than the sum of all she had stolen, a golden chain shimmering in the torchlight around his neck. She knew instantly who he was. There was very little that surprised Sidri, for much had she seen, but not ever had she expected this. "Stand back, prisoner! We won't hesitate to kill you!" The guard's harsh bark woke her from her stupor and she obeyed, retreating to the back of the cell without another word.

The guards and the lord made their way into the cell. Sidri swallowed hard, still in all but a state of disbelief, lowering her head to keep as low a profile as possible. "You," A deep voice called out softly, "I've seen you." She kept her gaze trained on the floor. "Let me see your face."

She looked up as the emperor took an assured step towards her, head tilting in curiosity. His pale eyes widened briefly as he saw her face, wild hair tumbling over her shoulders. "You're the one from my dreams." Sidri blinked at that, but he continued all the same, more to himself than to her. "Then the stars were right. Today is the day." A pause. "Gods give me strength."

Sidri finally managed to stammer something out, her gaze quickly falling to the sharpened blades at the sides of the guards. "I…I don't…What's going on?"

"Assassins attacked my sons," Uriel Septim replied, "And I'm next." His voice was so calm it seemed eerie to her. Her eyes widened further, a trembling hand brushing her hair back from her face as he gestured towards the guards. "My blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance," He nodded once, white locks nearly obscuring his pale eyes, "the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

Sidri choked out a laugh, earning her a glance from the blades, as they had been called. "I…I mean no offense, sir-sire, but I think there's been a misunderstanding." She was by no means humble, but she was a thief and for that she deeply valued the tangible and the logical. "I don't think we've met, I would have remembered if we had, and I don't think you can dream of thieves with a face as common as any of the streets. If you wish me move to a cell over, gladly will I-"

"It does not matter why you are here," The Emperor replied softly, "Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done," He shrugged, his guards continuing to examine the damp stone of the cell way, "It does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for."

Sidri shook her eyes, eyes wide and heart pounding at this point in her confusion. "No, I…I'll go to the next cell over. I don't belong here, I shouldn't be here at all, I-"

"None of us belong where we think we do," He replied with something like a smile tugging in the corners of his lips, deep voice ringing out through the chamber, "But what path can be avoided whose path is fixed by the almighty Gods?"

Before she could reply, one of the guards approached him once more. "Sire, sire please, we must keep moving." Her voice was urgent now. Sidri jumped back as part of the wall slid away, revealing a dark tunnel who's end she could not make up. Uriel Septim moved past her without another word, robes bright against the grey and brown of the tunnel before him.

"Looks like this is your lucky day," One of the guards barked at her, "Just stay out of our way."

Another minute and they were gone, disappeared into the darkness of the escape route. Sidri stared after them, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. She had never been one to place too much faith in the Divines, after all they had done little for her, and rarely did she believe in fate save the whims of Lady Luck, but this…this was almost too much for even her to ignore. The Emperor himself had looked her in the face, had told her that he dreamt of her, with her copper hair and bold eyes and fingers calloused from lockpicking. This cell, of all the ones in Cyrodiil, had been the one both he and his guards had needed.

But this? All this was too much to ignore.

Running a shaking hand through her messied hair, Sidri took a slow, deep breath and stepped into the darkness of the tunnel.