The guards standing outside the throne room look to her and their eyes widen and mouths drop to the floor. She flashes them her most seductive smile along with a bat of her eyelashes as she sets her now dainty but still callus hands onto the crimson doors.

Upon hearing the groaning of the massive doubles doors, all heads turn to Libby, and she watches their faces mimic the guards'. Joric nearly drops the scroll he is holding at the sight of her adorned in her fitted black attire and the fresh color on her skin. Nox, still with her hand on the hilt of her sword watches with the rest of the councilmen as she approaches the throne.

Queen Elisif stares astonished at Libby even as the assassin comes forth, stopping just before the dais and lowering to one knee.

"Good morning, your Majesty." Libby speaks.

"And to you, Libitania. Rise." She says, and Libby can tell she's trying not to quake her voice. Truly she has nothing to be afraid of; Libby would never hurt her, especially now after their relationship has shifted to the lines of friendly. "You seem . . . different." She hints.

Libby nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders. "I had a good night sleep." She then turns to the Prince of Morthal, still flushed with color. "I'm ready to find her Champion."

"Are you sure?" Joric asks.

"Were you not the one who said my time limit was one week? I'm ready. And I want to go now."

Joric looks to Nox who only shakes her head. He then turns back to Libby and clears his throat. "Well then, if you insist." he turns to the Queen. "If your Majesty will excuse us –"

"No need." Libby interrupts. "I know where he's hiding."

Joric's expression changes in an instance. He goes from being shocked and entranced by her, to seriousness but mischievously calming. His stare is a challenge. "Do you, now?"

Libby starts to stroll her way away from the High Queen. "Knifepoint Ridge, back out in The Reach. Quite an unnecessary journey considering how close we were before. But, I can make it there." Libby turns her head towards the Queen, making sure to soften her expression. "If her Majesty would be so kind to offer me a noble steed."

"How dare you address her as such –!" Nox starts, but Elisif holds up her hand to silence the Captain immediately.

"Very well, Libitania. I shall grant you a Charrolian Stallion to take with you on your travels. Personally a favorite of mine, bred and brought all the way from the city itself."

Libby watches her smile as the expression of surprise spreads across everyone's face, including the assassin's. "Oh, no there's no need for that . . ."

"Nonsense." Queen Elisif rises from her throne, boldly steps down from the dais and up to the assassin. "She is a beautiful mare and doesn't get the attention and travels she deserves." The Queen takes Libby's hands. "Consider her yours, a gift from me and as a thank you."

Libby merely shakes her head, her mouth still slightly agape in surprise.

"You were the only other person who even considered my ideas, ever. I know many people consider me inexperienced and possessing little knowledge of political events; so having you there to support my idea, given your . . . experience, it's reassuring that I do know what I am doing." The Queen smiles gently and Libby can feel a small smile on her lips as she layers her hand over the Queen's.

"You have great potential to be a ruler, Your Majesty. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. In fact, you give me hope of what the world can be. And what the world ought to be. Who knows, you might even be the first to end this putrid war."

"You have a bright spirit, though I can see the trouble within you. You have showed me true friendship, Libitania, even when you didn't have to. With your permission, I'd like to retain this friendship, and so, my doors will always be welcome to you when your burden become too heavy to bear."

Libby is held in place. She can feel the warmth of the Queen's friendship fall over her like a glimmering veil. She shifts her hands to hold the Queen's and eases down to her knee, bowing her head. "I than you, Your Majesty. I am truly honored you consider me worthy of such a title."

Elisif squeezes Libby's hand and pulls her to stand. The Queen kisses the assassin's brow. "You shall always have a home here."

She then releases Libby's hands and gives clap of her hand. "Now," she says brightly. "I'd hate to disturb you any further from your journey. Please, take my mare and ride out towards your destination."

Libby bows once more. "It was an honor, Queen Elisif."

"The honor is mine. Also feel free to help yourself to my armory. Whatever you need, you shall have."

With that, Libby smiles and walks he way out of the throne room. She casts a glance towards Nox and Joric, before she pushes her way through the groaning doors. Once she had helped herself to whatever weapons she could, as permitted by the Queen, they follow her down towards the tables where Libby finds the Charrolian Stallion saddled and ready to go.

Libby mounts the horse with ease, coiling the leather reins around her hands. Nox stands off the side, patting the horse's neck and adjusting the reins. The Crown Prince approaches, his eyebrows furrowed. He takes Libby's hand and she looks towards him. "Be careful."' He says,

"You know who you're talking to?" Libby slyly grins.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. But I will." Libby answers.

The Prince's grip tightens. "Do whatever you can to ruin them. And again, don't disappoint me." He says. Libby can't shake the feeling of unease as she hears how deep his voice goes, and how icy cold his eyes become when he speaks to her. Perhaps there's more to this Prince than she had anticipated.

"I'm rather insulted you underestimate my talents." Libby forces her catlike smile.

"Once you get the Ebony Mail, as well as Boethiah's respect, go straight to Whiterun. Remember, you have one month." The Prince then brings Libby's hand to his lips to kiss it. The feeling is soft and warm. "Two because I'm feeling generous."

"I appreciate the kindness."

"Report to me when you're done, and we shall discuss the rest of your contract for Riften." Libby nods and the Prince releases her hand. "Good luck, Libitania."

Libby nods to the prince and looks over to Nox. "No friendly goodbye from you?" she grins.

Nox looks up from her position leaning against one of the wooden posts, her arms crossed. "You speak as if we were friends." She says.

Libby feels her heart drop and anger build up, but as she's about to make a venomous reply, Nox then chuckles softly before she gives Libby a smile. "I'd wish you luck, but I don't think you need it. But still, mind yourself, Libitania."

Relaxing her shoulders, Libby returns the Captain's smile. She turns the mare towards the cobblestone path towards the castle gates. The Prince and Captain follow Libby up to the iron gates, from there, the guards open the gates wide, their hinges whining. Libby walks the mare in the streets, citizens stepping out of her way, watching her with gazes diverting from envy, to jealousy to astonishment.

Libby makes the quickest stop at the mansion she owns in Solitude, a few blocks from the palace. It's more like a summer home, and Libby merely pays for the upkeep on it, still after she greets her housecarl with polite conversation, she retrieves her Nightingale cloak. Karliah allowing her to take more than one attire should something happen to another. And things usually do.

Then when she had gotten captured, Libby made sure to also hide away her father's Nightingale sword under the cement blocks in the basement of the home. She still finds the sword, wrapped in a thick tarp, the blade still gleaming with its enchantment.

She then remounts her horse and snaps the reins driving the horse into a trot. Keeping her hood down, the cape billows out behind her in a wave of blackness. When she makes it through the gates, as the horse continues her trot, Libby pulls out her map and makes the location of Knifepoint Ridge.

Her determination takes her to a place where she only knew three things: that the Ebony Mail awaits her, that she is a weapon forged to end lives, and that no one is going to walk out of that Ridge alive.

She make it across the forest quickly and efficiently, a predator's stealth keeping her steps quiet on the dirt trails. She had since parked her Carrolian stallion in Rorikstead. The stable owner surprised to find someone like her riding in on such a gorgeous hose.

She had taken every weapon she could fit onto her, including her fathers' sword and Karliah's bow, which are both strapped across her back with a second sword of the Queen's armory, the two hilts within easy reach over her shoulders. From there down, she is a living armory.

When she nears the entrance to Knifepoint, which is also part of a mine, her features concealed with her dark cloak and heavy hood, she scales the trunks of a tree until she reaches the middle concealed within the green leaves.

Boethiah wanted her to kill them with stealth. Libby leaps across the branches from tree to tree, her supple boots finding easy purchase on the wrinkled limbs, listening, watching, feeling the night around her. The usual sounds of the forest greets her as she approaches the enormous expanse of the woods: birds viscously chirping to one another, the sounds of a squirrel foraging around in the grass for food, the whispering of the leaves in the breeze from the north . . .

But there is a silence around the mine, a bubble of quiet that tells her the place has enough men out from that the usual denizens of the forest stay away.

The nearby willow tree is empty with a canopy of vines, the gaps between trees easily jumpable.

Libby doesn't care what this group has or hasn't done. She doesn't care what sort of bargin they expected to trade with her for their lives. When Libby was assigned by Boethiah to kill them, their fate has been sealed. Their lives are set by Libby's blade.

She reaches the limb of the tree beside the Mine and drops into a crawl before she reaches the ledge and peers through the leaves.

In the narrow alley directly below, three armored men patrol, one on a tower set with a trap of boulders. On the forest floor beyond lies the front doors to the Mine, light spilling from the cracks and a fire pit holding at least four men. No one is even watching much from above. Fools.

The Mine is set into the side of the mountain, leading underground three stories below, and through her gap of the leaves, she can see all the way around the perimeter. There are guard towers that wrap around much of the camp, and winding paths slither their way up to the entrance – a possible escape route, if the front gate isn't an option. Five of the men are heavily armed, and six archers are positioned around the wooden towers, arrows all pointed at the first floor below.

The ice in Libby's gut spreads through her veins.

She can scale one of the towers, then after shooting out the rest of the archers, come down and slash at those patrolling below. But that would take time, and no one is looking at the open floor of the tower before her.

She tips her had back and gives the moon a wicked smile. She is called Skyrim's Assassin for a reason. Dramatic entrances are practically her art form.

Libby eases back from the edge and strode away a few paces, judging how far and fast she'll need to run. The open balcony of the tower is wide enough that she can land and spin slashing the man within seconds, the night sky is devoid of stars, and her cloak shall shadow her as nothing more than a black mass against the nightly sky.

She had made a jump like this once before, one the night when her world had been shattered completely. But on that night, her father had already been dead for days, and he's leapt through the window of Mercer Frey's house for pure revenge.

This time, she won't fail. A rumble of deep thunder rattles her core.

The men aren't even looking at the trees when she hurtles through. And by the time she lands on the top of the tower and rolls into a crouch, two of her daggers are already flying.

Daggers and arrows impaled in bodies litter the ground of the mine in an instant. Once Libby had slashed the throat of the man on one tower, her arrows soar from her bow relentlessly. The trees and grass pass beneath them in blurs, closing each distance and landing where she aims.

By the time she makes it to the wooden gates of the mine, the elven archer had an arrow in her neck, her body already half-burned on the fire and filling the air with the smell of charred skin and flesh.

The doors swinging in the storm winds are the only sign of her entry. No one has noticed the bodies littering the courtyard, and the doors opening isn't much of a surprise with the thunder and the gusting wind off the nearby sea. No one hears her as she slithers up the walls and crawls across the dirt roof.

Boethiah's Champion presses her back against the dirt, willing herself to be as strong as the timber braces holding up the tunnel. Concealed beneath her black mask and hood, she wills herself to melt into the shadows, to become nothing more than a slip of darkness.

A bandit on guard duty trudges past to the open doors, grumbling as he latches it shut. Seconds later, Libby drops down with her two long knives and one swipe of them crossing in an X is all it takes to chop off the man's head.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the hallway. The assassin takes a long breath, stalking her way down until she finds another bandit against the wall. The smell of oil reaches her nose first. She can see the thickly liquid pooled along the floor, the bandit idiotically standing as if nothing will happen. Libby aims an arrow and carefully waits when his head turns to the side to strike the arrowhead against the stone and shoot if at the pool. The entire floor lights up and the man's screams are easily devoured by the flames.

Libby listens for the approach of anymore bandits, but the mine remains hushed as the storm rages around them.

Traversing down wooden ramps, her feet silently padding against the surface, she comes to another female making conjuring up potions at an Alchemy Table. She only emanates a choke of blood when Libby's arrow sticks into her neck.

Through an iron door, the mine opens up to an atrium where she can hear the ticking of pickaxes. Suddenly she flashes back to Cidhna Mine, the sound being ever so similar to how the slaves she befriended had chipped into the stone. For a moment, she considers brutally slaying these bandits openly at the thought of them hoarding slaves.

But as she shoots an arrow at one male Orc bandit, she slips across a small bridge and finds just another member hewing at the rock.

Silent and smooth as a wraith, Libby moves down the natural dirt ramp. The previous Champion seems to be hold up in a little cabin poorly erected on the other side of the mine. She waits until the next rumble of thunder before chucking a dagger at the man's head, smiling as it embeds into his skull.

Another flash of lightning illuminates her figure as she approaches the last remaining member. He catches the silhouette of her across the stone, but when he turns around, all he sees is a flash of her red and silver dagger.

Prowling her way around the cabin, she shimmies her way up to the roof and finds a skylight behind him. No wonder the Prince wants him dead. He can't even bother to check on the men who serve him?

Libby creeps to the edge of the bed posted behind the man's chair and table. With each step, she readies her Nightingale slides out of its sheath with barely a whine. She takes a steady breath, bracing herself for what will come next.

A smile spreads on her lips.

She whirls her sword and it plunges into the side of the Champion's side. He barely has time to cry out before Libby's foot rams into his head and she gabs him by the arm and flings him over her, yanking out her sword. He skips across the floor and has barely stopped before Libby has him pinned beneath her, her dagger raised above her head.

She smiles gravely at the Champion. "You deed is done." she speaks. Then her dagger plunges down into the Champion's chest. He chokes on his blood and coughs a few splatters onto Libby's cheeks and lips.

Yanking her dagger out, Libby makes quick of removing the Ebony Mail before the blood can stain. The first predicament she sees is that the armor is created to fit for male. Not allowing the discouragement to stipple her, Libby sides the still warm armor over her head and tries not to laugh at how broad the shoulders are.

Not mere seconds later does the armor itself start to reshape and fit to her form, fittings snug against her curves, the metal not even making the slightest crack or dink or dent. Once it has fitted comfortably, Libby feels vibrations through the entire complex.

She winces as she holds her head, the Ebony Mail hisses with shadows. Then she hears Boethiah's voice.

"You have done well, my Champion." Boethiah's voice purrs. Libby looks all around but doesn't find the Prince anywhere. Instead the world tilts and turns, fading in and out of focus and she closes her eyes to avoid vomiting on the armor.

"You've earned my respect, a feat few manage and live to tell about." Despite the world going out of focus, Libby can feel a clawed hand trace her jawline. "I shall write your name on the Tablet of Absolute Darkness."

Libby calms her breathing and steadies her feet.

"You may keep my Ebony Mail, a token of my appreciation to my New Champion. Its gifts will resonate with your talents." The world settles and the Ebony Mail hums with every word Boethiah speaks. "Now go. I have string to pull that require my full attention. You may peruse your own course wherever it leads you."

As Liddy sheathes her father's sword. The Prince whispers in her ear.

"Remember always this: As you will it, so it shall be."

Libby's head settles and she takes a deep breath as she braces one hand on the back of a chair. When the pain in her head fades, she finds herself with the ebony cuirass fitted to her form, with her Nightingale vambraces armed with new daggers she didn't have before, and her greaves and boots, and her cloak sweeping behind her in a flowing wave of black.

Without wasting time, she pulls her hood up over her head and leaves the mine, spending the next hour gathering her arrows and daggers. Then she makes her way back towards Rorikstead.

After a day's rest, she and her stallion take the main road towards Whiterun, the great palace of Dragonsreach the first thing she sees as she descends the hill and onto the stone bridge. She keeps her hood down as she approaches the stables and drops off her horse, who raises the eyebrows of the stableboy.

After than she makes her way around the wall, looking like she's observing the farmlands until she finds an unguarded part of wall in the blind spot of the nearest guard tower. Looking at the expanse of the wall, Libby snorts. Compared to scaling the wall of the Blue Palace all the way up to her tower balcony, this wall is child's play.

She pulls up her hood and begins her trek, her feet finding hidden cracks and crevices, as if the path is laid out for her, hidden from sight. Making it to the top, Libby stays squat in her spot for a moment to observe the expanse of the glorious city.

Then she spots Jorrvaskr off by the Jarl's palace. Of course they'd be within a stone's throw from his home. Should trouble come, they'll be the first he calls.

Libby devilishly grins to herself as she wraps her cloak around herself and descends into the marketplace, looking more like Death itself.