"How much did you pay for this room?" I demanded, gaping at the room Nyt had just rented. It was about a thousand times bigger-and nicer-than any room I'd ever seen, save the Jarl's quarters in Mistveil. It even had a balcony. An indoor balcony.

Nyt frowned at my obvious shock as she dropped her equipment in a pile at the foot of the mammoth-sized bed. I slowly set my own weapons down on the table, dropping my bags and other belongings on the floor beside it.

"I'm friends with the Innkeeper. I did something for her; she sets me up in the nicest room three times in return." She said, absently resting a hand on a windowsill.

"You should be happy-this is the third time." She added. I scowled at the back of her head, but I was still in shock. It wasn't surprising-most thieves like me, who considered a semi-dry semi-clean spot of stone good sleeping grounds, wouldn't have believed in the sheer enormity of this room, nor its grandness.

There were even books on the end table!

"What did you do?" I asked, glancing around as I picked up one of the books. Nope…I've read that one.

"Umm….I retrieved a family heirloom." She replied hesitantly. She stared studiously at the ground. I could smell her lie a mile away.

I glanced up at the ceiling-and the chandelier that hung from it-and mouthed a prayer to the Divines. I was tempted to begin a melodramatic rant-starting, of course, with me screaming, "Is this a dream?!".

I looked away long enough to cast her a scathing look, obvious indication I didn't believe her. I saw a flicker cross her face-she was blaming my disbelief on her race. I was so going to kill her.

"What was that thing back there in the Jarl's basement, anyway?" She demanded suddenly, changing the subject.

"A Daedric Lord. Mephala, to be exact." I replied. She hadn't said a word about what had happened after I'd dragged her out of Dragonsreach. I didn't know if she'd heard Mephala speaking or if she'd just seen the blade-but I was determined to leave it for Nelkir, and I wanted as little exact information to leak out as possible.

"Oh…" She murmured, stretching as she began to unstrap her obviously heavy Ebony armor.

"What-just an 'oh'? I would've thought you'd freak out." I taunted, amused. She seemed to be very old-fashioned and righteous, sort of like a Vigilante except a lot less fanatical. I hadn't expected that response. Unless she didn't believe me, but I doubted that.

"Nope. 'Cause I have my own Daedric Lord to worry about."

"Seriously." I requested. Her tone was too flippant for her to be entirely serious, but it was obviously not a lie.

"Um, yeah. I'm their Champion…They weren't very clear on the details."

Not surprising.

"Well? Which Lord is it?" I prodded. There was no way I was letting this slip past me.

"Molag-Bal."

I couldn't hold back my laughter.

"Molag-Bal? The Daedric Lord of domination? Why in Oblivion would he pick you?"

"What, and you think you're more suited to the job?!" She cried back, stiffening defensively.

"Me? No. I could possibly see Hermaeus Mora, but that's doubtful because as much as I love knowledge, I've no background. And, you know, my sword-" I gestured at it and felt it hum with pleasure "-but no. This isn't about me. The fact the Daedric Lord of….Do you even know who he is?"

She scowled at me, an obvious indicator her pride was keeping her from saying 'no'. This followed by a fifteen minute rant consisting of me unloading all the information I knew about Molag-Bal onto her, and watching her face go from angry to horrified to disgusted and back to angry.

"Shut up!" She finally shouted, throwing an empty goblet at me. I easily sidestepped and flashed her a grin.

"Good. I'm hungry. Is the food here as good as the décor?"

Another glare. She was going to be an expert glarer by the time we parted company.

xXxXx

"Nyt."

"Nyt."

"Nyt."

"Lizard."

"Scaly."

"Cousin of a dragon."

"By the gods, wake up already!" I cried exasperatedly, slamming my pillow onto Nyt's head for the twelfth time. Her tail twitched slightly in response, but other than that, nothing. I muttered a very inappropriate oath and clambered off the bed, settling cross-legged on the floor in front of her stuff.

Fine. If she was going to sleep all Middas, I would entertain myself.

I'd pocketed all of her books and a bit of her gold (Not much),replaced everything else exactly the way it was supposed to be, hidden my spoils perfectly, eaten, dressed, and packed, by the time she woke up.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, tossing one of the books that had been provided by the Innkeeper onto the table. Nyt glowered at me and yawned, showing me all of the little pointy teeth that make up an Argonian's maw.

"You know the shout that tore across the sky? That was the Greybeards. They've summoned me…So we've got to head to Ivarstead. But first I have to speak to the Jarl."

I would have actually gone to a sermon at the Temple of Mara to hear her say the last part. I had absolutely no desire to go anywhere near the Greybeards, High Hrothgar, or Ivarstead. Not after my blow-up with Argneir.

Within ten minutes Nyt had all of her stuff together and was headed out of the Inn with me, to my surprise. She may take forever to sleep, but she had certainly perfected the art of packing in a hurry.

The Jarl glared at me throughout the conversation, which I paid little to no attention to. Nyt received a pretty expensive looking sword of elven make, glittering with a powerful enchantment. I heard the Jarl mention something about being a Thane. I noticed Nelkir skulking around the bookcases, and then I heard the mention of gold.

"What now?" I asked, jumping closer to Nyt. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Um, there's a house for sale." Nyt muttered.

"Does it have bookcases?"

"Yes, but it isn't furnished yet, and that will…cost extra." A seedy looking-and trust me, I knew seedy when I saw it-Imperial added slyly, inching closer to us.

"It costs nearly six thousand septims, septims I do not have!" Nyt protested.

"That's alright. Just put my name on the deed with hers." I said, dropping a bag on the ground in front of the Imperial. The noise it released made it clear what was in it.

"I offered my Thane a home here in Whiterun, not a-"

"Look, you want the Dragonborn as a Thane only to boost your political status. She knows it and would have just refused you had I heard nothing about gold or bookcases. Take it or leave it." I snapped. Nyt shifted very uncomfortable-she probably didn't want all of this attention focused on her.

"Um, Athe? Can you come here for a second?" She hissed, grabbing my arm and dragging me back a few steps. It wasn't much of a difference and it wasn't like there was any more privacy in the new spot than the old-but she probably felt there was.

"What? You can let me pay for the house." I said, kindly refraining from pointing out all of the money I'd taken from her was in the bag still resting at the Imperial's feet.

"Yeah-that's the point. I already have a house."

"…You already have a house." I echoed, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Um, yeah."

"And you decide to tell me this now?"

"Yeah?" She questioned, my annoyance seeming to catch her off-guard. I looked towards my bag of cash and saw the Imperial sneaking closer to us, mouth opened as if to jump in and involve himself in our affairs. Nyt's mouth snapped shut and she turned to glare at him as well. Seeing the expression on our faces, he backed up.

"So…are there books there?"

"Yes." She answered too quickly. So there probably were books-but not ones she'd read, and definitely not ones she could list the title of by heart.

"Is it a nice house?"

"Yes."

"Where's it at?"

"Windhelm."

No. Just…No. How in Mara's name had an Argonian managed to get a house in-or anywhere near, for that matter-Windhelm?! The Stormcloaks were incredibly racist-more so than the average Nord-and had forced me into a fight more times than I cared to recount on my way to the Barrow. And I'd been disguised, too.

She resolutely turned her gaze away from me, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well, we're buying this one. By this point, your other home has got to be torched, rubble, burned, ruined-whatever you want to call it. And I refuse to ever enter a house in Windhelm." Unless I'm stealing from it, I silently added. I marched back over to the Imperial to complete the transaction, leaving Nyt behind.

"Who said you were ever going into my house?" She muttered-obviously thinking I couldn't hear her.

"I did." I called over my shoulder.

We didn't speak until we had left Whiterun and made it past all of the farmsteads clustering around the city.

"We can't go to the Greybeards." I finally said, breaking the thick silence.

"Why not?" Nyt snapped, turning to face me. I scowled at her.

"I went. Arngeir recited off the prophecy that the Greybeards protect and that nonsense, and told me I had to go get one of their sacred artifacts for them. He only wants us to go so he can exploit us."

"Us?"

"He knows I'm the Dovahkiin. If we tell him there's not one, but two….Imagine. I've already told him no. You haven't. You haven't ever even spoken to him. So he'll manipulate you, get you to denounce anything to do with me, and then turn around and work with me to do the same to you, whether I want it or not. Just like the Jarl only wants you as a Thane to boost the power Whiterun will hold over Skyrim."

"Well then, what do you suppose we do, O mighty Dovahkiin?" She snarled. She was enraged and looked like she was about to draw her weapon and hurtle herself at me.

I got that look a lot.

"We can go to Riften." I replied, unable to hide a slight smirk. We had to at least pretend we were headed to Ivarstead and Riften was the next best choice. Well, the first best choice, actually.

"What?! I am not going to Riften!" She cried, absolutely horrified at the idea.

Ah. That's right. Some people had morals.

I took her disgust personally. If she was upset about the prospect of a thief, I couldn't imagine her expression if she were to learn how I'd lived. Most thieves had a home, or at least the Guild. I'd slept in trees-even beneath the docks-just to find a safe place to sleep.

"Suit yourself. I'm going, whether you come or not." I said coldly, spinning on my heel and marching down the road.

"Athe…"

"Athe!" I stopped and glanced at Nyt over my shoulder.

"That's the way to Falkreath, not Riften."

"I knew that. I had to see if you were actually abandoning me or not somehow."

XXXXXX

So Fire started this chapter off with the Molag Bal thing-I twisted the characters a bit to make them more like their personalties allow, but other than that these chapters should be pretty similar.

If you don't like my depictions of the characters (Alright, alright, I'm kinda sorry a little bit for Proventus. He isn't THAT creepy. But Balgruuf had to be to fit the whole not-bonding-with-my-son deal. And, question. Do they ever reveal who Nelkir's mother is anyway?) why are you reading this? o.O