a/n: yo.


It turns out, Ralof made rather nice company. For a huge hulking nord who I had jeered and snarked at like there was no tomorrow, he was decidedly lighthearted. And, as we strolled into Riverwood, I found myself jesting with him as if he were one of my brothers.

"I definitely killed more Imperials than you! I was counting!" He laughed, boisterously, clapping his hand against my back, his strength nearly sending me sprawling forward.

I punched his arm and said, "You wish! I counted more men with arrows in their faces than their skulls bashed in! Have you been drinking wine and not shared?"

The townsfolk stared as we walked past; women tittering amusedly, men shaking their heads as they continued on with their work and children paused in their play to scramble after our heels at a distance. I felt more or less relaxed, more so than I'd been in the past day in this cold province. Which is why my guard had been let down so much that someone's dog nearly scared me up a tree.

The damned mutt snarled and barked ferociously just behind me and I could feel its hot breath on my backside. I screeched and flung myself in a dead sprint. I didn't slow until I reached a log mill and the dog's growling was drowned out by the sound of some cheeky little brat cackling like a damned troll.

"Nice one, Stump!" The little shit jeered, petting the still snarling canine. "Scared that silly knife-ear out of her skin, didn't you boy?"

I pressed a palm over my heart and panted as my wits returned. Ralof growled and slapped the kid across the back of his head. "Oi, keep that dog of yours under control, Frodnar. Do I have to tell your mum you've been causing trouble again?"

The kid yelped before he turned to make a retort. "It's not my fault! He just suddenly ran off! 'Sides, the stupid elf isn't hurt!" He backed away when the Stormcloak soldier raised his hand again. I made my way back to them, grumbling and begrudgingly sheathing my daggers again. When I got closer, the kid seemed to have had an abrupt change of opinion of me and hastily hid himself behind my legs.

"Hey, elf, tell Uncle that you're not mad at me!"

I parted my lips to chastise him but was interrupted by his dog releasing a sharp bark that tapered off into an angry growl. My irritation bloomed into an odd sort of rage, one that I had never felt before. I snarled at it like a wild beast, flashing the sharp canine teeth that Bosmer were known for. The dog, Stump, crumpled into a submissive cowering position almost immediately, whimpering pathetically. My rage was not quelled, however, until it fled when I lifted my leg as if to kick it in its snout.

"Hey!" The kid shouted at me, slamming his tiny fists into the back of my thigh. "Don't be mean to Stump!" Immediately, I whirled around and picked the little shit up by the back of his shirt.

"I suggest you keep that old mutt of yours on a leash," I hissed. "Something bad might happen if he were to get away from you again." A threat, pointedly punctuated by my free hand resting on my weapon. It was here that Ralof chose to intervene again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sa'miail," he exclaimed. "I think the twerp gets the point. Put 'im down." That last sentence sounded like an order. I glared at him for a few seconds, but nonetheless dropped the kid rather unceremoniously.

I huffed and under my breath, mumbled, "I fucking hate dogs…" Ralof seemed to visibly relax and tossed his arm over my shoulder, guiding me off towards a nearby house.

"You probably don't have a place to stay, yeah?" He gestured to the cottage. "When, you're ready to turn in, you can come here. It's my sister and her husband's place. They'll let you stay if you just drop my name. Or you can stay at the Sleeping Giant Inn, I suppose. Delphine's pretty alright as far as owner's go," he shrugged. "S'your choice. But, seriously, you should consider joining the Stormcloaks. We could use soldiers like you." With those words, the burly blonde nord strolled off to Akatosh knows where.

I was rather hungry, but I was feeling rather attached to the little bit of coin I managed to scrounge up. Therefore, instead of going to the inn and purchasing a decent meal, I dug up a few roots and tomatoes from a nearby garden and pilfered a few chicken's eggs to go on top of the musky old bread from the underground tunnels. Not the best meal I've ever had, but certainly not the worst. At least it's not sand skeever meat.

After, my impromptu breakfast, I decided to explore the tiny town of Riverwood. Thus far, it seemed to have the basics; an inn, a forge, a mill. There was the occasional cow and more than a few cats, to my pleasure- but the streets were practically overrun with chickens. I was tempted to kick a few, or roast them and save the meat for later, but a steely look from several of the citizens kept the fire magic from leaping farther than my fingertips.

I chatted with some of the locals for a while. Ralof had already told most of them about the dragon at Helgen but they still asked me for what I knew. There was an odd little job I took for two men. Each of them wanted to sabotage the other's chances with a woman called Camilla Valerius. The wood elf directed me to a small trader's shop when I asked where she might be.

"Riverwood Trader…" I muttered, reading the plain wooden sign. "Creative." When I pushed the heavy door open, my nose was assaulted by a variety of scents. Spices, worn leather, old paper and rust. Not at all unpleasant once you get past that first kick. When I got over the homey scent, I recognized that the owners of the little shop, a man and a woman, were having some sort of argument.

"Well, one of us has to do something!" The woman – the very, very pretty woman – exclaimed.

"I said, no!" The man thundered. "No theatrics, no thief chasing, no adventures!"

"What are you going to do then? Just let them get away with it?!"

"I –" They seemed to have finaly noticed me. The man switched from angry to cheery in less than an instant. "Hello! Welcome to the Riverwood Trader. Sorry about that little uh, discussion, you overheard. My names Lucan Valerius and that there's my sister, Camilla."

Camilla nodded. "What can we do for you?"

I blinked at her, and then switched on my most confident smile. "Oh, you're Camilla, then?" I was favoring the wood elf's side but now… "My name is Sa'miail. There are two men in town who are plotting for your affections…"

She scoffed and turned up her chin. "Sven and Faendal. I suppose they've made a courier of you? Did they send their love in a two hundred word epithet each?"

A smirk quirked at my lips and I tilted my head to the side. "Not quite."

"Oh?"

"Yes, both have given me a bit of gold to deliver a nasty letter to you, each addressed from the other in hopes to sway you against one another."

"What?!"

"Would you like to see them?"

Her eyebrows furrowed angrily and she huffed. "No… No, I believe you. When I see those two next I'll have to give them a piece of my mind." She nodded at me. "Thank you for your honesty. There are those who would have simply taken their gold and deceived me."

I snickered and patted my wallet. "Oh, rest assured, I'm keeping the gold."

She laughed and Lucan rolled his eyes. "Women…" he muttered.

"Now then, what's this I hear about thief hunting?"

Lucan spoke up this time. "We had a bit of a break in. We're running fine though. They only took our decorative counter piece; a golden claw."

"Hm," I murmured. "Sounds expensive."

"Not really, we found it when we were children actually. Kept it ever since."

"Ah. Sentimental value, then," I hummed thoughtfully. "How much is it worth to you?"

Camilla and Lucan seemed taken aback. "What?"

"How much is it worth to you? I can fetch it; for the right price, of course."

"I-" Camilla cut him off.

"A hundred septims."

"Oh, that much?" I truly was not expecting that much for a dingy little trinket. Ah, well. No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth. My ears twitched. "Sounds good. How does fifty up front sound?"

"Absolutely not," Lucan replied. "One hundred septims upon the claw's return and not a moment before."

"Well that's certainly unfair. How do I know you won't just take it back and refuse to pay me?" I crossed my arms and my lips quirked up into a grin. "I need some sort of reward before I go bandit hunting."

"Well, it won't be gold."

"Hm, then allow me to make you another offer."

Lucan raised an eyebrow, "Like what?"

"A hero's kiss from a beautiful woman would suffice," I teased, turning to the other Valerius sibling. "What say you Camilla?"

Lucan's face turned red with fury and I braced myself to have something thrown at me. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off into angry sputtering however, when Camilla leaned down – damned Imperials and Nords and their gargantuan heights! – and pressed her – soft, warm - lips to mine. The kiss lasted only a few moments and as she pulled away she murmured, "The bandits were last seen heading towards that mountain to the North, Bleak Falls Barrow. You'll probably find them there."

I didn't want to think about how red the tips of my ears were and instead cleared my throat, "As you wish, although," I pulled a few septims from my wallet. "I have a feeling I'll need some supplies."


An hour later, I was climbing the rocky crag with a much lighter wallet and some wolf fur lined armor – this province is too damned cold! I had also bought a few arrows and stopped at the forge to sharpen my daggers and restring my bow. Now, all that was left was to slaughter some bandits. My ears perked up as I heard the sound of voices. I pressed my body to the ground, the grey-black fur blending in with the snowy rocky cliff side.

Ahead was a decrepit old watchtower, tattered flags flapping in the harsh winds. Atop the tower was a large burly man dressed in heavy chainmail yelling down to someone at the tower's base. The large Warhammer strapped to his back might have been intimidating in close combat, but, at this distance he was a sitting duck. I drew my bow, notched an arrow, and took aim. For a few seconds, it was as if the winds meant nothing and the snow blustering around could never obscure my vision.

A moment later, the bandit fell from the top of the tower, an arrow embedded in his throat. There was a cry of shock and rage. Probably his companion… There was the sound of heavy boots crunching along the hard dirt path. I slid off the path and waited, crouched underneath a dying fir tree. A woman in rough studded leather armor dashed past me, her sword raised and an angry expression marring her features. I was behind her, running my blade across her throat before she had the chance to react.

I dragged the barbarian woman's body off the pathway and out of sight and began rifling through her pockets. Lockpicks, my favorite. I also came across a meager handful of septims and an apple; nothing particularly special. In her companion, the spoils were a bit better; more lockpicks and septims. I loosely considered taking his Warhammer but thought better when I felt how much the bulky heavy weapon would slow me down.

Eventually, I climbed higher up and came to what I assume was the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow. I approached the decrepit stone steps slowly. This place must have been beautiful back in its time, if the crumbling stone pillars and archways were any indication. I spied a bowman lurking about in front of the huge rotting wooden doors, but luckily, they hadn't spotted me just yet. I dropped down to a crouch again and slowly slunk forward, my hands wrist deep in snow, planning to loop around a pillar to flank them; a trick my brothers had taught me for pickpocketing guards, but it has many uses. Thank Kynareth for these gloves, I thought. My fingers may fall off without them. I could see my breath misting in the cool air as I exhaled.

Unfortunately, I wasn't expecting to be ambushed. I narrowly avoided having my head caved in by a waraxe.

"Skyrim belongs to the nords!" Was the brutish man's warcry as he charged me. Two more bandits wielding sharp blades of varying length charged at me and I was forced back. To add to my problems, the archer was now busily attempting to turn me into a hedgehog. Crossing my daggers over my head, I stopped the waraxe's second swing from cleaving me in two and kicked into the man's stomach. As he was sent reeling, cradling his stomach, wrapped a palm around the back of his neck and plunged a blade in his throat. His heavy body went limp and I just barely managed to maneuver him as a meat shield, blocking the next one's great sword as well as a few arrows.

"You never should have come here, elf!"

"Your father shouldn't have come at all, nord!"

He screeched and made another dive at me. I smirked as he lunged in the path of his remaining companion's next volley of arrows. He fell with a thud and a strangled sort of choking noise. The archer snarled with rage and picked up her pace, advancing slowly. I dived and rolled out of the arrows paths.

She cackled at me, "That's it, knife-ear! Dance!" I always hated that name. Still, there was no time to draw my own bow, and I was not so suicidal as to just charge at her. But, there's still one more trick up my sleeve.

I thought back to the words in the old book I had found as I escaped with Ralof. It had seemed ironically fitting that I should find it in my first few hours in this icy country.

"Take the power of the fiercest winds and the chill of the coldest nights in the palm of your hand. Strike your foes down with the sharp burning fangs of an ice wraith."

I concentrated on the cool energy pooling in my finger tips and just as the archer was pulling another arrow from her quiver, I cast my hands out. A spike of ice flew out and impaled the bandit right through her chest. She stood frozen for a moment before blood bubbled out from between her lips. She fell dead to the ground. I sighed in relief. There were some close calls there. She was skilled and some of those arrows nicked me more times than I cared to admit.

I moved on, already fed up with this little mission. There were two more bandits in the barrow's main hall, huddled around a camp fire. Two arrows later and there weren't anymore. Even in my impatience I kept to a smooth silent stride. My family trained me well. Being silent and dangerous like a cat was almost instinctual for me at this point.

The occasional skeever was dispatched quickly enough, as annoying as the little beasties were. The real problems showed up after I solved the first puzzle.

I had found a man swaggering ahead of me into what appeared to be a wide circular room. I was fully prepared to put an arrow in his back but just before I notched it, he pulled a lever in the room's center. Almost immediately, he was filled with arrows and he fell dead to the floor with only a pained grunt.

Ooookay. Booby traps. Good to know.

Still, when I examined the room, the lever seemed the only way to open the door and move forward. Then, I noticed three panels on the wall overhead and three stumpy pillars with matching sigils just beneath them. Hm… I wonder…

I reached out and pushed one of the pillars. It moved surprisingly easily, spinning and revealing another sigil. Oh, those sneaky old nords. That's brilliant.

Eventually, I got the pillars to match the panels. Hesitantly, I approached the lever. Whelp, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I pulled it and immediately threw myself backwards, expecting to be pinned through by a half a thousand arrows.

Instead, the gated door flung itself open with a clang. I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

The next room was filled with walking corpses. They stood from their little alcoves with a hiss as I approached them. I screeched at first but a few spells or arrows, and they crumpled like any other man. The next few rooms were filled with them and I found that they were actually quite entertaining; so easily led into obvious traps. I'd never thought a swinging spiked door could be so amusing.

Eventually the traps and undead became sparser and sparser before disappearing entirely only to be replaced by… spider webs.

"Oh, my favorite," I grumbled, as I hacked away at the sticky threads.

As I moved further in I noticed the corridor widening ahead of me and the sounds of grunting and struggling. There was a man, a dunmer, suspended by the webbing furiously trying to kick his way free.

"…Hello?" I called.

"Ah, Soling! Is that you?" I stepped forward, just in the doorway of the wide round room.

"'Fraid not, friend."

"Wha-? Oh, who cares you have to help me before it comes back!"

I arched a brow. "Before wha- !"

I got my answer when a spider – a giant, particularly ugly thing – descended from the ceiling with a thud. I rolled back into the smaller room, just in time to avoid being impaled by the creature's long legs. I scrambled back forward as the creature reached for me, but it couldn't manage to squeeze through the entryway. I drew my bow and notched an arrow, when curiously it stepped to the side and consequently out of the arrows path.

I tried again. And again, the spider scuttled out of the way.

"Are you serious?" I took aim again. This time the spider ducked and spat a venomous wad of spittle at me.

I hissed as it impacted against my arm, burning and eating away at the flesh, a drop or two landed on my brow as well. I growled as I brushed it away – leaving little wounds on my fingertips as well. "Fine, have it your way." I sheathed my bow and rushed at the spider, fire crackling at my fingertips.

A word to the wise: Standing there flinging fire at a spider's face will get the job done, but it's gonna bite you. A lot.

Nevertheless, it got the job done and the creature crumbled to the ground, its legs curling in on itself. Woozily, I leaned against the nearest wall, panting. I hate this country…

I was just considering giving into the urge to pass out when the dunmer shouted out to me again.

"You there! Bosmer! Excellent work!"

"So glad to have pleased you," I grumbled. I righted myself and sauntered over to him.

"Now, just cut me down!"

"First things first: where's the claw?"

"Wha- How did you- Oh, nevermind. Yes, I have it! Please cut me down! I'll give it to you if you do!"

"Give it to me first."

He rolled his eyes at me. "How? I'm all tied up if you haven't noticed. Listen, those shopkeeps didn't know what they were using as a decorative paperweight. Just help me outta this and I'll let you have some of the treasure; as sure as my name is Arvel the Swift!"

I regarded him carefully for a moment. "Alright. Fine…" I sighed begrudgingly. Carefully, I cut the webs away from his body and Arvel toppled ungracefully to the floor. He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt.

"Thanks, friend…" He said with a dark chuckle. He shoved me hard and I went sprawling on my back as he sprinted away. "Fool!"

Yeah, that's about what I expected.

I rolled over and stood again and followed after him at a much slower pace.

I'd planned to shove an arrow in his gut when I caught up to him but instead I found an undead with a rusty greatsword standing over his headless corpse. It was easily taken care of with a dual wielded flames spell and I looted both of their corpses.

After that, it was a simple matter of reading Arvel's journals and setting off deeper into the barrow in search of treasure with the dragon's claw strapped to my hip.

Any undead I came across were child's play at this point as I had simply gotten in the habit of roasting them before they even had a chance to rise from their resting places. A few more traps and simple door puzzle and I entered a grand room with a huge stone coffin resting in the middle.

It was ornate and beautiful as far as old coffins go, but that's not what drew my eye. There was huge wall with writing carved in no language I've ever seen etched into it. One set of symbols almost appeared to glow. It called to me and I moved closer, almost enough that I could touch it.

I reached to do so and the second my fingertips met the cool silvery stone, my vision was engulfed in the blue glow and the sound of chanting, roaring and war drums filled my ears. My breath was stolen from my lungs.

Fus. Fus. Fus. Fus.

And as quickly as it started, it ended and I could breathe again.

There was a sound like grating stone behind me and I whirled around in time to see another undead rise from the huge coffin. I shook my head and prepared an arrow just as I had countless times against tese things. However, where I expected it to charge with the sword it drew, it merely spoke – or I should say shouted.

The force of its voice threw me backwards. There was that word again: fus. I laid stunned and for a breath moment I mused, I'm spending more time on my back today than I expected. Driven by instinct, I parted my legs just as the walking corpse brought its blade down inches from my groin. If I were male, I might have taken a brief moment to cringe but as it stands I am not so instead I immediately kicked the damned thing in the face.

It reeled back and I rolled away.

"Alright, asshole, let's try this again." Instead of waiting for it to make a move again, I immediately fired a raped volley of arrows at it. It grunted in pain but still parted its lips to shout at me again.

"FUS!"

However, this time I was prepared. I dived behind a broken down bit of wall and immediately began another volley of arrows. I aimed carefully, just as brother taught me.

"Watch carefully, little Sa'm. Ra'urabi will teach you how to be a quickshot just like him. If you do well, this one buys moonsugar as a reward."

My eyes narrowed. First, the knee.

Thot! Thunk! The corpse fell to a kneeling position, one of its frail legs suddenly rendered useless. Then, the weapon.

A second arrow, then, and the old sword was sent flying away, clattering against the stone. And, for the finale…

A third arrow, tinged with frostbite venom, embedded itself in the dead man's skull, just as it was parting its teeth to howl out that word again. It jerked instead, and fell limp, that strange haunting light dying from its eyes.

"Oh ho ho! Sa'm may just put ol' Ra' out of the killing business, she picks things up so fast!"

I sighed and sheathed my bow. I picked at the undead's armor, and found a few gems (and salvaged a few of my arrows), but there was something else there two. A piece of stone no larger than a large tome was shining with an odd, foreboding sort of magic. Perhaps this was the treasure Arvel spoke of. I picked it up and carried it with me, following the sound of howling winds to hopefully out of the damned barrow.


The sun was just beginning to rise as I kicked in the door of the Riverwood Trader.

"Oh, you're back!" exclaimed Lucan, a bit… unhappily.

"Thank Mara!" sang Camilla jovially.

I slammed the golden claw on the counter I front of the brother with a thunk and a grumble. "There ya go. All safe and sound." So tired.

I turned around and was engulfed in a hug by the female Imperial. I was so surprised I had to pointedly resist the urge to draw a dagger. "Many thanks!" she said.

"Hm."

She kissed my cheek – Lucan grumbled angrily – and grabbed my hands, placing a satchel of gold coins in my palms. "One hundred septims, as promised."

"Thank you," I turned and made my way to the door. "Now, if you don't mind, this one is very tired. I will be at the inn. Asleep." I paused, my hand on the door knob, and turned back to wink at Camilla. "Perhaps I'll see you in my dreams."

I heard her giggle girlishly as I closed the door behind me.

I was actually on the Inn's doorstep when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to give my most intimidating glare at the person. It was Ralof again, looking rather flustered.

"Sa'miail, I am sorry to – what happened to your eyebrow?" He gestured to his own.

"Wha-?" I pulled out a dagger and looked at my reflection in its shiny surface. A whore would have blushed at the next series of words that left my mouth. It looked like the spider's venom had burned out a notch in the center of my left eyebrow.

I huffed and put it away again, muttering, "Don't worry about it."

He raised an eyebrow at me skeptically, but dropped it. "I need you to take a message to Whiterun."

"No."

"It's very important. We need to warn Jarl Balgruf the Greater about the dragon that attacked Helgen."

"Yes, I see how that may be important. What I don't see is why you can't do it."

"I need to help prepare in case the dragon comes here."

Sighed "And, I need to sleep."

"Sa'miail, please, I promise you, if you do this, I won't bother you again. In fact, the Jarl may be so grateful he'll reward you somehow."

Reward? That is the magic word.

I stared at him for a moment, a bit irritated, but still I sighed out, "Fine."


a/n: next time Sa'm'll meet Lydia and probably piss off every guard in dragonsreach in the most fantastical way she could possibly manage.