After many failed attempts at an Oblivion fanfic—one that I actually posted, to my shame—I think I finally got it! So here it is!

Disclaimer: Oblivion © Bethesda. All others, me.

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Shadowed Destinies

Chapter One: Such a Night

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Moving swift as shadows, small padded feet softly made their way through the alleys of the Imperial City. Not a soul noticed his passing, and it worked to his favor. It would not do, getting noticed in his line of work.

Tomas was an urchin, a child employed by a thief to make an extra profit. Sadly, he was not in the employ of the Gray Fox, the wily but honorable thief king of Cyrodill. If he were, he would probably wear a few less bruises than he did. Many nights, he wondered why he did not run to another town. Those thoughts he quickly smothered as the cries of other urchins, urchins with similar ideas, rose up from the cellar of the master's house. After a while, the memory of the sweet air outside the city became a distant myth. He forgot how to play, how to be a child. All that remained were the scores and the marks: the hundreds within the city who would unknowingly foot the bill for him and his fellow urchins.

At last, he found the perfect spot—the Tiber Septim Hotel. This inn was the most posh in the Imperial City, perhaps in all of Tamriel. All of the richest, most indulgent folks made their stay here if they could help it. Plenty to eat and drink in warmth and comfort. And Tomas knew that few if any of them truly appreciated it. For a brief moment, he thought about the ample amount of coins he carried. It might be enough to buy him a night here. What he would give to spend just one night nestled into soft cushions with a plate of food before him. A glass of warm creamy milk…maybe a sweetroll…

With a quick shake of his head, sending dirty locks of hair into his face, he pushed those silly thoughts away. He would be a fool to try something like that. Surely, the master would find out and he would be in for a new round of bruises. No, better to remain where he was. The patrons who left would most likely be a little warm from the drinks. So much easier to slip a tiny hand into their pockets. It might take a while, but he would go back fully loaded tonight. No cellar for him, and maybe he would earn a reward as well. The thought of bread and cool water made his mouth moist.

Just as he settled in the shadows, ready to slip what he could from passersby, he heard singing coming from the inn. A woman's voice, low and soft, seemed to float out of the ornate door and dance about in the air. The dulcet notes of some stringed instrument accompanied her, enhancing the sweetness. The song sounded familiar to Tomas, but he could not make out the words through the thick door. A pair of Nords paused in their evening strolls and fixed their eyes on the door, the one obstacle barring them from the music.

"Did Augusta hire someone new?" asked the man, his ice blue eyes sparkling with a smile as the song beckoned him closer.

"One way to find out, let's go in," answered his pretty companion, her eyes just as blue, but larger. So distracted by the beauty of the music was he, Tomas could only watch as the pair flounced inside, their ample purses jingling mockingly as they passed. Once his shock passed, a sly smile came to his face. No one would notice if he relieved a few weary souls of their heavy coin purses if they were as distracted. This would be a good night for him. He felt it.

As the door closed behind him, the young urchin gasped as his eye beheld a splendid sight. The high vaulted ceilings draped gorgeously woven tapestries that hung all the way to the floor, softly waving in the slight waffling of the warm air. Chairs upholstered with silk and velvet sported overstuffed cushions as large as his whole torso. Fresh flowers sat in ornate bowls all around the sitting room. He had never seen a palace, but he imagined this was quite close.

In the center of the circle of seats, a lovely Bosmer woman stood cradling a long-necked instrument. She was short and slender, like a young willow. Her hair was a coppery brown color, twisted up onto her head with a pair of jeweled sticks. As she plucked and sang, her honey gold eyes shimmered with emotion. She swayed a little to the rhythm of the music, drawing the patrons nestled into the chairs a little further into her song. Now was his chance.

Before he could make his way towards the easy marks, a chubby cook strolled by, carrying a tray of food to the guests. The most delectable perfume of aromas curled around him like a warm blanket. Crusty bread, honey-soaked cakes, freshly roasted meats, and a host of other smells he could not place his finger on seized him and would not let go. His belly growled like a troll, sending a sudden wave of dizziness over him. Stumbling backwards, he crashed into a well-dressed Breton woman with a coiffure that looked like a coil of red rope. She gasped a little, and then got a look at the large smear he left on her bright blue velvet gown.

"You wretched little beast! Look what you've done!" With a keen of outrage, she shoved Tomas away, checking her purse frantically to see if anything was missing. Her distress stopped the music all together, murmurs of concern rising up in their stead. "What did you take, you little thief?"

Tomas' brown eyes widened in fear, thinking of the small purse tucked into his dirty stocking. He had taken nothing from her, but if anyone cared to check him after her outburst, nothing he could say would save him. Just as he feared, a burly orc, the bouncer no doubt, stomped over to him.

"Thief you say?" He growled, looking the boy over with distaste. As an orc, he was an ugly thing, but his clothing was impeccable. Even more impressive was the large mace strapped to his belt. "I'll have a look at you, boy." His green-skinned paw reached for him, and Tomas screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain.

"I think not."

The velvet voice opened his eyes again, and he stared at the shocking scene before him. The bard stood in front of Tomas, her hand pushing the orc's down again. "Really, sir. No need to bother the boy," she said her voice warm and soft. "He's only looking for a warm place to stay, as are we all." Tomas could not see her face, but he heard the smile in her voice. Such carefreeness did not appear in the orc, however. His dark eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Back to your plucking, tree-hugger. You aren't paid to interfere with tavern business," he sneered, wrenching his hand away to land on his mace.

He barely found time to grasp the handle before a pair of black daggers flashed up and crossed over the orc's throat. A collective gasp erupted in the sitting room, the orc's face draining of color. The elf took a step forward, pressing the blades a little closer to drive the bouncer back to the wall. From the new angle, Tomas could see her face a bit better. Her golden eyes shimmered no more, transformed into hard gems of amber. Hard lines replaced the sweetness in her face. She seemed a completely different person.

"And I think you are not paid to frighten helpless children." Her voice, too, had gone cold, sending a shiver through the gawking crowd. Those amber gems flicked to the Breton woman who flinched as she met them. "Good lady," she began, her voice betraying that she thought her to be neither, "please check your things, and tell me if this little one took anything."

The woman rushed to obey, dipping her manicured fingers into every conceivable place, patting her jeweled neck and ears. With a crinkle of her nose, she glared at Tomas who went even paler than the trapped orc. If she missed something, left it at home thinking she had brought it, he was finished. He knew it.

"No, he did not," she admitted painfully to his ultimate relief. "But just look what the little pest did to my gown!" She wailed, grasping the material to show the crowd. She garnered no sympathy this time and one by one, they returned to their chairs.

Releasing the orc, the bard sheathed the ebony daggers and dipped into her own purse, casting a handful of septims at the woman's feet. "If that does not cover the cost, I will be here for the next few nights," she murmured, eyeing the woman as if daring her to continue the scene. "Now you let him alone."

Expelling a loud harrumph, the Breton kicked the coins aside and shuffled out of the inn, muttering and cursing as she went. The elf smiled and shrugged, stooping to gather hoer coins up. The orc smoothed out his tunic, trying to regain some face. "All a misunderstanding was it not?" she asked, her voice warm and soft once more. Hearing the anger in her voice no more, the orc muttered something under his breath and nodded, unable to look at the tiny, willowy elf that got the best of him. The bard gazed over her shoulder at Tomas, smiling at the blush appearing under the dirt on his cheeks. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she led him to the front desk. "Here," she smiled, giving the handful of coins to the innkeeper, Augusta Callidia, "put him up for the night and give him something to eat. There should be enough there."

The older woman chuckled and winked at the boy. "Well, aren't you the lucky one? Why don't you go on into the washroom and have a bath?"

Tomas' mind reeled. A bath. The best he ever had in his eight years of life was a somewhat clean rag with less than clear water to wipe his face and hands at the master's house. Imagining the warm water and perfumed soaps awaiting him, he floated away from the room, barely aware of one of the barmaids ushering him along. Everything was moving so quickly. Had that all happened? This stranger, knowing nothing of his intent, chose to help him, and not just help him, but make him comfortable. Why?

After the longest, warmest bath he ever dreamed of, he returned to the sitting room where the elf had just finished another song. Though scrubbed clean, he still felt a little awkward being among such finery. He had shaken as much dirt out of his clothes as possible, but he could only do so much without washing them, and they were all he had. Remembering the Breton's reaction to him, he quietly tucked himself into a corner with sufficient shadows. The bard caught sight of him and approached, her face bearing an amiable smile. "What is your name?" she asked as she ushered him over to a plush floor cushion.

"T-Tomas, mum. M'name's Tomas," he stuttered as he lowered himself into the cloud-like pillow, unaccustomed to and a little uncomfortable with such treatment. Maybe he should forget all of this and get back to the streets. But… it was so soft…

"Tomas, my name is Ilshalys. Consider yourself a special guest tonight."

"But…my master…" he began, but she ignored his fading protest and picked up her lute again, strumming a lively tune. A cry of approval went up from the audience, recognizing the popular song. A few patrons clapped along as the cook returned, setting a bowl overflowing with ripe fruit and a slice of still-steaming sweetcake before Tomas. His eyes grew wide and his mouth grew wet. Never had he seen this amount of food on one plate in months. The honey-scented steam bathed his face until he could stand it no longer. Grabbing the warm cake in both hands, he took an enormous bite, half of it disappearing at once. Honey and crumbs cascaded down his chin as let free a rather loud moan of delight. Ilshalys paused in her song for a moment to watch him shovel the food into his mouth in great swallows. She erupted into musical laughter, her cheerfulness infecting the crowd as one by one, they slapped little Tomas on the back, welcoming him into their midst.

Cheeks bulging, the young urchin grinned, holding his empty tankard out to a passing barmaid. With a friendly smile, she filled it to the brim with frothy milk, patting his now clean cheek matronly. As he swallowed another bite into his ever-warming stomach, a large tear welled up and skated down his cheek. For once in his life, he felt like someone cared about him. Him—dirty, thieving little Tomas the urchin. Tonight, he felt like a king. More than that, he felt like a child again.

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Early the next morning, little Tomas he darted in and out of the shadows once more, though with more of a spring in his step than usual. Never had he had such a night. The food just kept coming as Ilshalys doled out septim after septim to ensure his comfort. The delighted guests threw coins by the handful at her feet, but the thought to grab them never occurred to Tomas. Ilshalys played and sang into the night until the last patron had retired and he found himself nodding on the cushion. With the gentleness of a mother, she led him to one of the couches and covered him with a large fur blanket. Instinctively he curled up beneath it and snuggled into the couch, still smelling of an expensive perfume one of the patrons wore. The last thing he remembered was the sound of an elvish lullaby lilting through the air on golden strings as he sank into the soundest sleep he had ever known. No dreams of pain and cold assaulted him, only sweet scenes of home and hearth, leading up to a sweetcake the size of a house, dripping with honey.

When he woke, he found Ilshalys had left the inn and felt a twinge of dismay. He wanted to thank her properly, so he asked the innkeeper if she knew where the bard might be found. She did not know, but gave him a shiny apple and a paper wrapped package, saying the bard left it for him. Inside, he found a set of clean, simple clothes, a pair of soft leather shoes, and a large purse brimming with coins. On the lapel of the shirt sat a note, attached with a stickpin topped with a pearl.

Dear Tomas,

I know what you have been going through. Believe me, life can be beautiful. Please take these gifts and make your life beautiful. I hope you enjoyed your evening.

Ilshalys

Augusta had to sit with him for a good five minutes to help him stop weeping. It was too good to be true! That coin was enough to feed him for a month, feed all of the others for weeks. What should he do? Buy more clothes? Food? A respite from thieving for a while?

Even more tantalizing than all of those wonderful choices, he could finally buy his freedom from that bastard! The thought of running through grassy fields and feeling the breeze of summer on his skin made him weep anew as the old innkeeper hushed him.

His mind set, he made it back to the run-down shack the master called home. Tearing a piece of the wrapping paper from his gift, he scribbled a quick note, attaching it to the bag with the stickpin. Before he left, though, he had second thoughts and took the pearl pin back, sticking it into his lapel. This, at least, was his. It would fetch a nice price to start him out. Sticking the note under the bag, he melted into the shadows again, praying that no one saw him approach or leave. He would get away clean this time. For good.

Unbeknownst to him, someone did see him dart away, but not whom he feared. Her outline barely shimmered against the adjacent building, her form nearly invisible. As a Shadowfoot for the Thieves Guild, it was her nature to remain unseen.

Ilshalys Kennedorn watched in satisfaction as the former urchin fled his hellish life in favor of something better. Good. She at least got to one of them. And now she knew where the rest were.

This operation had been a thorn in the side of the guild for years, and though she had only been a part of it for a few months, it was a pleasure to be the one to shut it down. Too long had she shadowed the lost children of the city, watching them skulking along like rats, stealing pitiable amounts for a lazy, abusive sod that had not the guts to steal for himself.

She never expected to meet one face to face, though. Getting personal was not her motif. She planned to continue shadowing the little ones until one inevitably led her to the hideout. Imagine her surprise when Tomas appeared at the inn. She recognized him as one of them, but seeing him up close and personal struck a chord inside her. Her first thought was to simply get the bouncer off of his back and follow him after he left, but that all changed when she caught sight of the fading bruise under the tattered collar of his shirt, the cheeks that nearly disappeared into his skull. From then on, she could not help herself. Seeing his little face light up as he devoured that first slice of sweetcake and the life shine in his young eyes as he watched her perform warmed her heart to the core.

In the end, he had taken her advice to pay his way out of the operation. A welcome outcome indeed, or she might never have found the hideout. But more than that, he was free now, free to make his own life. Tomas, she could tell, had not the heart for thieving. The urchins were talented, and the Fox mentioned trying to recruit the ones who wished to remain in their line of work. She knew in her heart that few of the others would wish to continue either, even in the prestige and safety of the guild. Those that did would be welcomed, of course, but deep inside, she hoped they would choose a different life. As Tomas did.

Satisfied, she slipped into the alley just as her Chameleon spell wore off and made her way back to the main street, casually strolling away like every other model citizen. Another purse—one she deftly lifted from one of the posted guards on her way out of the city—disappeared into her pack with a tiny jingle, a small start to make up for the price of a new life.