Prologue
Akatosh alone knew why this Dragonborn was chosen. There was little to suggest the shy girl had the soul of the dragon, or was suited to hunting them. Nothing suggested she could save the world from Alduin. Perhaps Akatosh made a mistake when he imbued Nessa Nyholm with a dragon soul, certainly Nessa herself thought it was a mistake.
Orphaned at age twelve, she was turned over to the Riften orphanage where she spent three terrible years. At fifteen she was adopted to a large family that treated her as little more than a servant. Fleeing that, at age eighteen she stumbled into an Imperial ambush and was swept up along with a contingent of Stormcloaks including Ulfric Stormcloak himself. How she faced the headsman's axe and escaped that day is another tale, but she found herself in Whiterun with the name of Dragonborn and Thane and completely unprepared for the responsibilities. The call from High Hrothgar went ignored and she fled to Riften where our story begins with Nessa finally finding a family of sorts.
We Know
To see her again was to feel the lash biting into her flesh and the fearful solitude of being locked away in a dark closet, forgotten for hours. It brought to mind all the patches of newly turned earth and her missing friends. The shy girl everyone knew as Nessa was nowhere in sight when she stole out of the closet intent on the only act of vengeance she'd ever committed.
The narrow cord wrapped around Grelod's neck and Nessa pulled it taut before the old lady could even respond. Only her eyes rolled in Nessa's direction and a final hiss escaped her throat. Maybe she imagined it, but Grelod seemed to recognize her. The old woman's hatred was palpable. It was the same hatred she had shown the children under her charge. As her last act, she reached back with her withered claws and scratched Nessa's face, struggled feebly for a moment, and then slumped to the floor.
"For Aventus," Nessa whispered to the dead woman. "For Fat Freddie, Sticky Timmy, and little Carrie." She thought of friends who had disappeared at night, probably buried in the orphanages courtyard. "For me."
Quiet as she had been, someone was stirring in the orphanage. She needed to go. Out the window she had left open, quiet as a breeze she went. No one would know who had murdered the old lady, certainly there were many who had dreamed of such a thing, but only she had dared. She slipped down an alley, narrowly avoiding a guard, and found the secret entrance to the thieves' guild.
Rune was the first one she ran into.
"By the nine, Nessy, what happened to you?" He reached out and gently touched her face where a long scratch was bleeding slightly.
With the adrenaline pumping, she'd completely forgotten about the scratches. "Sabertooth cat."
Rune pulled back and turned her face into the light from a torch ensconced. "Saber cat? Looks more like fingernails."
Nessa pulled her face away and smiled. "It was a young one. Just a baby, really."
Smiling, Rune let go of her face. "Ah, a Sabertooth kitten. They're ferocious, truly. Are they stalking the alleys of Riften now?" His mouth ticked up at one side.
"Very funny, Rune," she retorted. "I was outside the city."
"When it ambushed you?" Niruin edged into the conversation. "Kittens are getting aggressive nowadays."
Cynric saw his brothers clustering around the new girl and he joined them. "Ay, Nessa, what happened to your face?"
"Let me see," Vipir joined the crowd. He scowled at his brother thieves. "None of you thought to help her clean up those scratches?" He put an arm around the girl and pulled her away from the others. "Let me clean those for you. Wouldn't want to have them get infected and mar that lovely face of yours."
"Don't let Vipir clean 'em," Cynric warned her. "He'll find some way of convincing you that those scratches reach all the way to your backside and he'll have you out of your leathers."
Nessa laughed. "Don't worry, I know where the scratches start and end."
That started a round of laughter and suggestive comments. Niruin extolled the virtues of wood elves, while Cynric suggested that none of his brothers could rival his touch, expert lock-breaker that he was. Rune suggested that they were all full of hot air. Of them all, he was rather protective of the new girl; they'd hit it off when she had sat down with him beside the cistern and they'd exchanged life stories.
Vipir guided her into the sleeping area of the thieves' guild and sat her down on his bed. "Now stay here, Nessa. I'm going to wash these out with something, then a little salve. They'll heal in no time." He opened a chest at the end of his bed and rummaged around in it.
To him, Nessa was a kitten. Young, yes, but soon a hardened shell would form around her. In a few years she'd be like Vex, or Sapphire, but for now there was sweetness. He was drawn to her, like one is drawn to a flower. He'd never thought of himself as a philosopher but he struggled with the thought that to pluck the flower would also destroy it. What he knew was that he was a thief of not just items, but hearts as well. He was not a good man for a girl like her. He should leave this flower on the stalk. Internally he laughed at himself and went back to rummaging through his chest.
Nessa laughed. "You don't lock your chest. Do you trust all these thieves?"
Vipir looked up at her with a smile on his face. "Why bother? Most of these boys can jimmy open a lock faster than I can lock it." He picked up a squat jar and another filled with a liquid and a roll of cloth bandages. "Besides, we do all trust one another. If they need something from me, they only have to ask."
Just like a family, Nessa thought. She'd had one once, but their memories had faded. The only thing she could remember clearly now from that time was the fire sweeping through her house and killing everyone but her. After that, she'd been shipped to Riften with the other orphans from that town. She was adopted at fifteen, but truthfully she was little more than an unpaid servant to a woman with a big family. Just this year, three years after being adopted, she left that family. She just packed up what little she owned and walked out the door. They tried to stop her, but she walked away, heading Talos knows where. It was near the border, as she knew now, that she was caught up in the ambush of Stormcloak soldiers and nearly executed along with them.
Until the dragon came... Since then, nothing was the same. She'd learned to fight and discovered natural aptitudes she knew nothing about. Then a long smoldering bitterness had exploded when she had run into the orphan Aventus. And now… now, she was a murderer of old women.
The cloth touched her scratch and she jumped, jarred out of her thoughts by pain.
"Sorry, I know this stuff stings, but it will keep the infection away."
Nessa smiled at him as he cleaned up the scratches.
"Nails are filthy things," Vipir said. "They can cause the worst festering wounds, almost as bad as bites."
"You mean claws," Nessa reminded him.
"Do I?" he asked, a sly smile on his face. He opened the squat jar and applied a soothing ointment on the wounds. "Well, it is not my business. I'm sure that the kitten got far worse than you did." He finished up tending to her wounded face and sat next to her on the bed. "Better?"
She nodded, smiling at him. "Much. I owe you one, my brother."
"It was pure selfishness. I like your pretty face. I want to keep it that way." He leaned closer to her, "I'll collect my favor now, then."
She considered a moment then met his lips with her own. He didn't try anything beyond a kiss that was very nearly chaste. Like a brother might give his sister, but perhaps a little too soft and lingering a little too long. It surprised her how this simple kiss made her knees feel weak… Weakness she couldn't afford. She pulled away, regretfully, and cleared her throat nervously.
Vipir's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. "That was nice. I'll clean your kitten scratches any time, my friend."
~o~o~o~
It wasn't the first time a courier had sought her out, but this one seemed to pop up behind her. His voice severed her thoughts as she walked through Whiterun, thinking herself unnoticed, startling her into drawing her sword.
"Whoa, Miss, take it easy. I have a message for you. Let me find it here." The young man dug through his satchel, casting nervous glances at her sword.
Sheathing her sword, she waited as he looked for her message. She took it from him and opened it. An ominous black handprint in the middle of the page with only two words: "We Know". She glanced up sharply at the messager, her face going pale. "Who is this from?"
He shrugged. "Some rather creepy looking guy in a black robe. He paid lots of money, so I wasn't about to ask any questions." Looping his satchel over his shoulder he smiled at the pretty Nord. A shame the message was bad news, he didn't ordinarily like girls as large as the Nords were, but this one, while tall, was slender as a reed. Ah, but she looked far too distracted to be interested in a quick tumble, and he had a lot of messages still to deliver.
"Good day to you, Miss." He winked at her and set off down the road at a good clip.
She never looked up from the message. We Know. What? About Grelod? How could they know? I was quiet and old Grelod barely made a noise. No one saw me. Unless… was there someone already there I didn't see? Perhaps someone hidden inside her room? And who is "we"? Does someone know about the jobs I've been doing for the thieves' guild? Perhaps they're going to blackmail me.
Nessa's thoughts chased themselves around in her mind as she folded the note up and stuck it into a pocket, vowing to ask around at the guild. Maybe someone would know the significance of the handprint. Delvin surely might, or even better, Brynjolf. If it were a blackmailer, they would certainly help her deal with it.
Maybe it had something to do with the dragons. We Know. She laughed at herself for jumping to conclusions. They could know about the rumors that she was the Dragonborn. Perhaps it was a message from the Greybeards. The Jarl of Whiterun seemed to think they had summoned her. Perhaps they were simply trying to scare her into coming to see them.
Although the note was tucked away in her pocket, it still bothered her all that day.
~o~o~o~
It was nearly two in the morning when she finally returned to the Ragged Flagon finished with the tasks Delvin and Vex had sent her on. Vekel and Brynjolf were the only two still up. Vekel was sweeping, as usual. The man was fanatical about keeping his bar clean. Even though there was slime and mold everywhere else in the Ratway, his little bar was immaculate. Nessa thought it bordered on an obsession.
"Ah good, you're back, lass. I was a bit worried about you." Brynjolf's voice and friendly demeanor always warmed Nessa, she could listen to him talk for hours. And the way he said "lass" made her feel special, made her feel like she belonged to him. She was his protégé. He had seen something in her and taken her under his wing. As a result, she never wanted to disappoint him. His praise was more precious to her than gold and his disapproval stung more than Grelod's horsewhip.
She smiled wearily and dropped into a seat at the table. "Hullo, Brynjolf," she said shyly. Something about him always made her stumble looking for words. He was just so… smooth! He always knew what to say and how to say it. "It took me a little longer than usual. I was set to clean out the target's house after they went to bed, but they stayed up quite late. Then the trip home was long." She pulled her pack off her shoulder and dumped the contents out on the table. "Look at this!" She mustered up some excitement over her haul, even despite her weariness.
Brynjolf's eyebrows rose and he whistled as he took in her evening's take. "There's some valuable stuff there, lass. You have a good eye." He sorted through the items and pulled out a carved wooden soldier. "Maybe not this one though."
Reaching out, Nessa pulled the toy closer to her. "I actually bought that one. It's for a boy. He… he's an orphan, actually. I thought he might like it."
Byrnjolf's expression softened. This was what made her so appealing, of the things that set her apart. One moment she was all business, the next he might find she had a tender spot for an orphan. His brows rose as he remembered something. "Ah, that reminds me. We've had a little news close to home. The old biddy who ran the orphanage is dead. Murdered in her own bed. She had it coming, if you ask me. That nasty old bird had been terrorizing kids for decades. Probably one of them came back to repay her for her kindness."
Nessa affected indifference and fingered the toy soldier. "Imagine that," she said blandly.
Something in her nonchalance and indifference alerted Byrnjolf. He was a master at reading people. He never would have been such a adept hustler if he couldn't size up a mark properly. Nessa's response was strange. Now she was fidgeting with the soldier. This lass needs some lessons in hiding tells. Biting the inside of her cheek - she's trying not to tell me something. She has her eyes glued to the toy. Just a little nudge…
"Is something troubling you, lass?" Brynjolf asked, knowing the answer but not the reason.
Nessa finally put down the toy and looked into his eyes. "I got a message today from a courier. It has been on my mind a little."
Brynjolf's eyebrow cocked. Couriers were expensive, usually only used by the wealthy and powerful. Who would be sending this girl a message like that? "Would you like me to look at it?"
She considered a moment and then nodded. Standing, she wiggled a hand into a pocket and withdrew the parchment. She unfolded it, glanced at it one more time, and handed it over to him.
His intake of air was involuntary. He needed to work on his own tells. If this had been a card game, he would have given it all away.
"What is it?" she asked, looking frightened by his reaction.
Brynjolf folded the paper and slid it back to her. Well, this is a fine pickle. Who is this girl?
"Lass, what have you done to draw the attention of the Dark Brotherhood?"
~o~o~o~
Notes: I love to get reviews. They are what keep me writing! If there seems to be interest in the story, I'll continue. Thanks for reading!