Yay, plot!

I own nothing. Sadly.

Ahlia found it hard to sleep that night, thinking of the red haired thief in her basement. She had a lot riding on his help. Ever since she had left HighRock, she had face every problem and settled every argument with a blade in her hands and magic at her fingers. This was one confrontation she couldn't fight her way out of, and the thought of it made her restless. She tossed and turned most of the night, only to fall asleep near dawn, and waking to nightmares about dragons. The sun was well up when she decided to drag herself out of bed and get on with her day – not that she had much to do that day, aside from "practicing" with Brynjolf and perhaps helping him with his task. She would have to take him into town and buy some clothes that her mother would approve of, as well. She couldn't have them meeting with him wearing leather thieves' armor. She'd go to Radiant Rainment as soon as she had eaten and he was awake.

She staggered down the cold stone stairs and into the kitchen, stopping short in the doorway. The fire had been rebuilt, and what smelled like sweet porridge was cooking in a pot over the flames. Her house guest was nowhere to be found. Moving the porridge a little away from the fire so it wouldn't burn, she set out to find him. After checking the basement and ground floor, she finally stepped out onto the porch off the side of her house where she had met him last night.

Brynjolf leaned against the waist-high stone wall, looking out over the sea below. He glanced up at Ahlia ask she came close. "Riften is on the water," he commented, turning his attention back to the waves.

"I know, I've been there a few times in my travels." She leaned her hip against the wall and folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm surprised we never saw each other," Brynjolf smirked.

"Tell me honestly, if you didn't know I was Dragonborn, would you have ever paid attention to me? Had we met differently, of course," Ahlia asked. She was aware that she was not the most beautiful or the flashiest woman in Skyrim, with her short hair and comfortable – not fashionable – clothes.

His green eyes met hers. "Of course I would, lass. I make it a point to take note of all possible marks," he finished with a wolfish grin. Ahlia rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for ruining what could have been a nice sentiment," she scoffed. Brynjolf only chuckled. "And thank you for making breakfast," she added, more sincerely.

Brynjolf waved her comment off. "I got hungry's all. What's on the agenda for today?" He rested his chin in one palm and watched her as he spoke.

"Shopping, I think, then I don't know. More of what we did last night, I guess." He began to grin and Ahlia wrinkled her nose at him, thinking how that would have sounded to anyone listening.

The thief pushed away from the wall and walked back into the house, giving Ahlia a wink as he passed. She sighed and followed. They ate breakfast in the kitchen and made small talk. By the time they finished, it was midmorning, and the shops were sure to be open. Ahlia cleaned up the kitchen a little, then retrieved her purse and a sharp knife from her room. Even if they were only going across town, she wanted to be armed. Just in case. Typically, she wore her sword on her at all times, but the people in Solitude frowned on that. They wanted their "hero" to be graceful and ladylike.

Because grace was most certainly what killed Anduin, after all.

Brynjolf was waiting for her when she came down the stairs, and made no comment about the dagger on her hip. She led the way out of the house, locking the door behind them.

"Don't wander off," she warned him.

"Aye, lass," he said good-naturedly. She berated herself for being so gruff. He had been going along with this absurd plan with no trouble, after all. The least she could do is be kind to him.

By the time they had reached Radiant Rainment, a few people had already seen them together and began whispering behind their backs. Ahlia was irked, but brushed it off. That was just the kind of place Solitude was. Taarie, the Altmer owner of the clothing store, was standing behind the counter when they entered. She looked both Ahlia and Brynjolf up and down, sneering a little.

"Come to purchase something more fitting of your station, milady?" she asked. The shopkeeper didn't mean to be insulting, Ahlia knew, she just meant to be honest with her opinions. That was the only reason the Dragonborn didn't snap at her or, worse, Thu'um her. Her mood was dark enough, she might have done it if she got irritated enough.

"I like my clothing, Taarie," she started, her tone a little strained. "But I do need something a little more impressive for both myself and my companion, and yours is the only shop in town I would trust with that."

The combination of the compliment and Ahlia practically admitting she was right made Taarie a little less sharp. She even gave a slight smile as she turned to the wardrobe behind her. Brynjolf was busy looking around the store, a little too interested in some of the more valuable items. Ahlia elbowed him in the ribs, earning a slight frown. "I do have something that would fit you quite well," Taarie said finally, pulling out a long dress and a tunic. The dress was a soft goldenrod color. The tunic was cream, and would reach well below her knees. It was embroidered in gold and red thread around the edges and collar. Ahlia touched the tunic, examining the stitches. They were small and precise, and the fabric was soft. She smiled.

"As perfect as always."

"I know," Taarie replied. She looked at Brynjolf for a long moment, then turned to a chest behind the counter. From it she pulled a pair of grey pants, soft black leather boots, a fine tunic of a brilliant emerald green trimmed in grey. Placing those on the counter distractedly, she searched through a few other chests before finally pulling out a beautiful cloak made from silver fur scattered with irregular black spots. Ahlia touched it, the fur was incredibly soft – saber cat fur. The cloak was secured by a gold chain stretched between two large gold broaches.

Ahlia considered the clothes for a moment, estimating their worth. Taking her purse from her belt, she poured some gold coins out into her hand, then handed the purse over to Taarie. The shop keeper weighted the purse in her hand for a moment, then smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you, milady."

Tucking the remaining gold into a pocket in her tunic, Ahlia reached to grab the clothing, but Brynjolf picked them up first. He gave Taarie a charming smile and headed out. The flirt, Ahlia thought as she followed him out into the warm sunshine.

They stopped at a few stalls near the residential area to pick up food. Brynjolf was a surprisingly good companion, making quiet comments to her about some of his own visits to the city. He knew quite a lot about the secrets of Solitude's inhabitants, and even told her a story about a heist he had pulled by pretending to be a member of the Bard's college. He went to great lengths to convince her how horrible his lute playing was. They finally reached the house again, and Ahlia was actually in a better mood than she had been in since she first got the letter from her mother.

"I'm going to warm some water for a bath," she called to Brynjolf as she put their groceries in the kitchen. "Let's see how well you clean up."

"Are you going to help me with that too, lass?" he teased

Ahlia wrinkled her nose for a moment and shook her head. "Hmm, good try, but no." She filled a large cooking pot with water and hauled it downstairs. Brynjolf followed behind her, carryng his new clothing.

In a corner of the basement was a large wooden tub. Ahlia set the pot near the alchemy fire place and went to pull the tub out. Sitting next to it were four large, covered jars. Peering inside one, she found they were full of clear, clean water. She smiled. Jordis took care of her even when she wasn't there.

"Give me a hand with this," she called to Brynjolf.

He had set his new clothes in the armory and came up behind her. Pulling the tub into the light of the fire, he easily hefted one of the water jars and poured it into the tub. Two jars almost completely filled the tub, and once the water in the pot was boiling, they added that too, to warm the bath.

Confidant that he could handle bathing himself, Ahlia left. Throwing her new clothes onto her bed, she washed her face in a wash basin. Going out onto the landing outside her room, she sank down into a chair and grabbed a small bottle of ale. There was no real reason to worry so much about her mother's visit as there wasn't much else she could do to prepare. Keeping her end of the bargain with Brynjolf was a little trickier. She knew Elisif fairly well, so getting into the Palace would not be hard, but could she betray the Jarl's trust by taking a momento from her late husband? True, Ahlia was not always fond of Solitude or its nobles, but she had nothing against Elisif.

At the same time, she had no real loyalty to Elisif, either.

She knew there was a side stairway that would lead up to the hall Elisif's room was off of. But would the circlet be there? It would be no problem for her to waltz around the Blue Palace, but it would be much more difficult getting Brynjolf in there. Maybe she could just take the circlet herself.

Her musing was interrupted when her guest appeared at the top of the stairs. Ahlia stared at him for a moment. His long hair was dark with water. What little dirt had stained the skin of his face had been washed off, leaving him looking even more fair than the last time she saw him. He wore the new clothes they had bought, and they fit him well. The fur cloak exaggerated the broadness of his shoulders, while the cut of the tunic and pants showed off his narrow waist and hips. The colors looked fantastic on him. She flushed. Gods, he was a handsome man.

"Well, lass, think these will work?" he smirked, stretching his arms out.

Ahlia tried her best to stay nonchalant. "It'll work." A grin stretched across his face, and she realized she had failed in her attempts.

Brynjolf sat down across from her, and placed his large hands over hers. She resisted the urge to pull away nervously. His hands were warm, and lightly calloused, and the feeling of them holding her own hands was not all that unpleasant. "Relax," he said lowly.

"I was just trying to think of the best way to get your item," she answered.

"I appreciate that, lass," he smiled.

A sharp knock on the door downstairs cut their conversation off. Ahlia's eyes grew wide, her heart racing. Brynjolf squeezed her hands gently, then stood. The Dragonborn slipped past him and started down the stone steps. More knocks sounded through her home, impatient. She stopped in front of the door, with her partner in crime at her back and took a deep breath before pulling the door open.

On the porch stood her mother, a small, severe woman with graying light brown hair, and a cold brown eyes. Behind her was a man Ahlia had never expected, nor wanted, to see ever again.

Thonar Silver-Blood.