Hey guys! Bear with me, OK? Characterization is very, very important and the first few chapters might be a bit slow, but I swear there is a plot and plenty of action on the way. Thanks for reading/reviewing. Enjoy chapter 2.

Lydia watched as her thane sank into one of the chairs by the hearth fire with a tired sigh. She looked exhausted. Wearily, Sparrow reached over to root around in her worn travel-pack. After a short time, the girl drew out a piece of stale bread and tore a hunk out of it with her even white teeth. The housecarl could hear the crunching sounds and winced in slight disgust.

"Let me make you something a bit more palatable, my Thane. I've already got some broth boiling and I shot down some pheasants today. A hearty stew will be much more filling than that and it won't take long at all. I also made some fresh bread, if you'd prefer that instead," Lydia's tone held slight reproach. Did the girl even think to ask for help? Who ate week-old bread when there were plenty of fresh loaves available for purchase? Especially considering the fact that Sparrow didn't want for gold.

Lydia routinely watched, amazed, as the girl brought back expensive treasures from her escapades; multi-colored gem stones, jewelry and gold coins were dumped into the chest upstairs, seemingly forgotten about and left to collect dust. It was as if the girl preferred the finding and acquiring to the actual having of goods; it almost seemed like she was unsure what to do with it all once she did have it.

It was an endearing, though strange, trait. And it amused Lydia to no end. The fact that she had permission to buy whatever she needed in Sparrow's absence didn't hurt either.

Sparrow bit down on the hardened loaf again, before waving a hand in acquiescence. "Soundth good," she lisp, spewing several crumbs on the floor. "I altho brought fresh cheeth. Thee? I can cook too," she dug in her pack again before triumphantly brandishing a large, yellow wheel of goat cheese.

"And where did you get it?" Lydia questioned, disapproval growing. She well knew her employer's tendency to "borrow" certain items from people's homes. Whether they knew about it or not.

Lydia found out about Sparrow's questionable morals several days after she had take up residence in Breezehome; she'd arrived carrying the rest of her belongings to find Sparrow crouched in her room... busily picking the lock of her strongbox. The girl had jumped to her feet, quickly hiding the lock pick and tension wrench behind her back.

Taken aback, Lydia had only stared for a moment before opening her mouth to question the Breton, "My Thane...?"

"Nothing!" Sparrow had cried, cheeks pink. "What lock pick?" before she'd run from the room in a panic.

Bemused and a bit apprehensive about her new dwelling and roommate, Lydia could only stare after her. Later, a sulking Sparrow had shuffled into Lydia's small room and threw several emeralds at her before darting out of sight once more. Not a single word was said.

Now, the Breton shot Lydia a petulant glower, "Faendal would want me to have his cheese!"

"Shame on you, Sparrow! These are people who trust you and you steal from them?" More and more, the Nord woman felt like a chastising mother rather than a housecarl.

"He already said I was welcome in his home. I fixed his Mer arse up with Camilla, didn't I? He and his cock couldn't be happier, I assure you. Me taking a bit of his cheese is the least of his concerns at the moment," Sparrow sniffed, taking a large defiant bite out of it.

"By Sheogorath's madness, kid! Manners! At least cut a slice out of it before you leave your teeth marks all over- Ach, here. Just let me do it," Lydia reached over and made to grab the cheese out of the girl's hands.

At this, Sparrow's expression became dark and watchful. Her small hands tightened down on her prize and her upper lip curled into the slightest of snarls. Surprised, Lydia quickly snatched her hand back out of reach. The Breton was small, but every now and again, Lydia could easily imagine her employer leaping across the table and tearing her throat out with her teeth. There was always a decidedly wild aura surrounding Sparrow, reminding the woman that she knew next-to-nothing about the girl. Other than her sticky fingers, that was.

"Sorry," Sparrow murmured, cheeks turning a bit pink. She handed the cheese wheel to Lydia with an apologetic shrug, "I don't know why I do that sometimes."

"Nor I," Lydia responded, keeping a watchful eye on her.

Suddenly breaking into a huge smile, Sparrow pushed her pack out of reach and scratched her head vigorously, "I can't tell you how great it is to have a house of my own. In Riften, I had a place to sleep, but it was in the middle of a big communal space. No privacy at all. Here, I can just walk in and put my stuff down anywhere without worrying if someone is gonna mess with it."

Lydia was now chopping some potatoes and leaks to throw into the stew. At this though, she perked up, "You're from Riften? I didn't know that."

"Aye," Sparrow replied, using her foot to pry one of her boots off, "Well, since I was a lass of four or so. Before then I can't really remember much. Only what Bryn and Delvin tell me."

"Who are they?"

The girl held her now bare foot up to inspect her toes, "My guild brothers. They were the ones what took me in."

"You're an orphan then," Lydia said, cutting a hunk of cheese for herself.

"Ya. Bandits. You know, these type of guys," here, she lowered her voice dramatically and it took on a thick accent, "'you picked a bad day to get lost friend' and then look all surprised when I kill them where they stand? It's very funny sometimes," she shrugged, losing interest in her feet. Sparrow leaned forward to sniff at the cooking pot, one boot still on, "Ya know, that smells pretty good, Lydia. When do we eat?"

The Nord woman smiled, wanting the girl to reveal more about herself. Lydia was desperately curious about Sparrow's experience with the dragons. So far, she hadn't said much about Helgen or the events that led her to become Thane of Whiterun. Or about anything else about herself, honestly. The girl was a veritable mystery. A foul-mouth, rude, dishonest, thieving little mystery. Several of the townsfolk had approached her, hungry for gossip, but Lydia had all but nothing to tell them, "Soon. So, ah, if you don't mind me asking-"

"Ask what?" Sparrow's happy expression melted seamlessly into the dark watchful one yet again.

"What happened at the watchtower? Everyone knows that you killed a dragon but there's a rumor that you also ate its soul. The guards have been talking and-"

"No. I don't want to talk about it," Sparrow held up a hand and shook her head.

"Sparrow," Lydia chided, "People are going to want to know. There have been other stories of dragon attacks, you know. This affects everyone; they've every right to know if something can or is being done about it. And, honestly, it's your duty to-"

"You want to know what happened?! Fine! I'll tell you. When Irileth and the others got there, the blasted lizard was already flying towards us. Ya wanna know what I did? I ran around like a headless chicken, dodged fire and prayed to any that heard to spare my miserable life. Just like I did at Helgen. That's it. I let loose one arrow, maybe two, and they likely missed. There. Big hero huh? Happy now?" Sparrow's angry mismatched eyes bored into Lydia's.

The Nord woman shrugged as she stirred, "I imagine anyone else would, and did, do the same."

Sparrow thought back and couldn't help but crack another grin. The guards had been a bit panicked. In fact, the only calm one had been Irileth; she'd shot one arrow after another. Each time, the dragon had screamed in a pained rage. That dunmer woman was not to be trifled with, "Maybe. Fact is, Irileth should be the one getting the hero title. That lady is fierce."

"Aye, she's the Jarl's protector for a reason," Lydia replied, now spooning a hefty portion of stew into a bowl. This, she handed to Sparrow, who eagerly accepted it. Again, Lydia winced as Sparrow took several enthusiastic slurps from the bowl, sans spoon.

"Uh-huh. I believe it. Anyhow," Sparrow went on, chewing on a hunk of potato, "After it was dead, I dunno. Things got... weird. The damned thing started to smoke and caught on fire. Just out of nowhere. Then a pinky orange... aura, I guess? Yeah, closest thing I can describe it as was an aura of some kind. Anyway, it flew out of the dragon and into me. I felt it sinking into my bones, all tingly-like. I can still feel it actually, only right here now. Like it's waiting to be used," she pointed to the middle of her forehead. "After, there were only bones left."

Lydia stared, amazed. It was exactly like the old legends had described, "So it's true. You absorbed its soul. You really are Dragonbo-"

"No!" Sparrow slammed one small fist down onto the arm of her chair, slopping stew over the side of the bowl and onto the floor. "I am not any kind of Dragonborn or Dovahkiin or Savior whatever you people are calling me. I'm Sparrow and that's it!"

"I heard the Greybeards' call that day, my Thane. Everyone did. The very ground shook from it. There hasn't been a summons for centuries. It is a high honor only a few have ever been given. You can't ignore this or them."

"No? Watch me," the girl snapped, baring her teeth at the other woman. Without another word, she threw the bowl into the fire and stomped upstairs. A few moments later, Breezehome trembled at the slam of a door.

Sparrow was long gone by the time Lydia woke up the next morning. She crouched behind an especially tall bush and deftly drew back the string on her hunting bow before gently releasing. A satisfying -twang- sounded as the arrow flew forward and true; straight into the neck of the large deer she'd had in her sights. The beast issued a startled yelp before trying to bound away. It got two paces before it faltered and sank; dead before it hit the ground. Ahhhh, lovely. Sparrow closed her eyes and enjoyed the hunter's rush that flowed through her. Blood lust; there was nothing else quite like it. And, as she ran across more wolves and bandits, Sparrow found that she was growing very comfortable with killing. It almost soothed her. After all, death was such an intimate moment to share with someone.

Faendal had also let her use one of his bows and had given her quite a few useful lessons. As a result, she was becoming fairly lethal with a bow and improving daily. Providing she wasn't being chased by an angry dragon, of course. To her surprise, she found that she loved archery and couldn't wait to get her hands on a new, better bow. Initially, she had only accepted the lessons to appease Faendal's giving nature and had no intention of following up on them. Truthfully, she had first declined the offer, but his forlorn expression had gotten to her a bit more than she cared for.

"Let me teach you what I know. I have no offspring to pass my skills off to. I'd hate to let them go to waste and it's the least I can do considering what you've done for me," he'd said, glancing down at her with big sad eyes.

Usually, Sparrow didn't give a horker's ass about someone else's wants, but dammit if the skinny Mer wasn't growing on her. She honestly hated when that happened. It only made it that much more difficult should she had to double-cross them at a later time. Nevertheless, Sparrow had given in, sighed and nodded, genuinely hoping that she would never have to betray Faendal. The charming bastard had wormed his way under her skin, "Ach! Fine! Make it quick, would ya? But ya know, that whole not having any children thing might be remedied sooner than later. What with the way you and Camilla have been-"

"Yes, yes!" he'd interrupted, cheekbones turning a dusky shade of rose. "No need to go on. Here, let me show you the proper stance."

And he had. As well as number of other honed techniques. To his credit, Faendal was a swift, efficient teacher. Soon, she was loosing arrows like she'd had a bow for years. The Bosmer had been impressed in spite of himself, "You should keep it up. Archers are the best at ranged fighting. It's especially good for someone who might not be able to wield a heavy hand-to-hand combat weapon as well as others."

"You callin' me small, elf?" Sparrow spat, swinging the bow around to aim menacingly at his face.

"Incredibly so," he'd replied seriously.

Now, as Sparrow casually sauntered over to her kill, she wondered if she hadn't been destined to be an archer. Delvin Mallory had tutored her in the art of stealth, after all. Stealth and archery went together like sweet rolls and icing. It felt almost... natural. The fact that her mind was again straying to thoughts of destiny and fate began to feel her with unease. The girl gave her head a sharp shake and focused on the deer carcass. Now Lydia would have something to do while she was gone. Curing all this meat would take her ages. Maybe then the woman wouldn't complain of boredom. Though, Sparrow knew Lydia was hinting at her desire to come adventuring with her. The thought made the girl cringe a little. Lydia was horribly clunky. And loud. The woman would be terrible to have in a cave full of draugr. Might as well wear a bell around her neck, really. No thank you. Sparrow much preferred to work alone. Having someone along really cramped her style. Silent death from afar was the way to go, not rushing in to crack skulls.

Besides, hand-to-hand combat stressed her out.

There. The girl finished stuffing the majority of deer flesh into her pack and hefted it onto her back. This bag was great. It was on the small side, not bulky in the least and never seemed to weigh more than a few pounds. It'd been a gift from Vex on her sixteenth birthday. Apparently, it was a charmed pack; sealed with a powerful enchantment. So far, Sparrow had been able to fit over several hundred pounds of stuff into it without it growing the slightest bit heavier. As a bonus, whatever she was searching for always seemed to be at the top; conveniently in reach. Almost like the pack was in tune with her thoughts.

"I call it the Bag O' Bottomless Bounty. And, since you're a woman now, you're going to find you'll have to have a lot of stuff with you on the road, I just thought it might come in handy when you're wandering around. You don't need to make a big deal about it or anything," Vex had told her, trying to lift the mood with humor.

The fact that the grumpy woman had both remembered the anniversary of when the girl was found and thought enough of Sparrow to give her such a prized item had overwhelmed the girl. The Breton had grown a bit misty-eyed in spite of herself.

"If you cry, I'm taking the damned thing back and drowning you in the cistern," Vex had snapped, miffed.

And, just like that, it was back to business as usual.

Sparrow grinned with the memory and started the hike back to Whiterun. Hope I don't run into any bandits on the way, she thought. I'm bloody tired.

It had been a good day, though. Not even the slightest hint to what was on the horizon.