A/N:

Hello, fair readers!

I'm so so sorry this is kind of a late update. School just started and UGH. I am so busy and my creative energy is just totally sapped. I usually like to wait until I'm a few chapters ahead to update, but I figured you guys have waited long enough. :)

So, a little bit about this chapter. I have said in previous notes that I won't be able to cover all the missions I want to. Which is a bummer, but it does make things easier on me, and you don't have to read stuff you already know about. I was really tempted to have Jackie and Bradas do the "Blood on the Ice" mission, but I ultimately decided that we don't really need to see all that to drive the story forward. Let's just pretend that the Butcher isn't at large yet. Maybe our heroes will pass through Windhelm again and they'll have a chance to do that mission then… but for now we are going to leave it alone.

Hope you enjoy!

Going down the mountain was much faster than going up. They started early in the morning and managed to make it to Ivarstead by the time the sun went down. The air wasn't all that warm, but it felt wonderful after being up in the snowy mountain.

Back in Ivarstead, they found themselves in the same room they'd been in just a few nights before. Jackie had reached a point where she didn't even care about the dirt and blood that had soaked into the clothes under her armor; they were pretty much irredeemable at this point. She peeled them off as soon as she got a few moments of privacy and threw them away. She used a small bucket of warm water to rinse off the best she could, and she changed into a clean tunic to sleep in.

She crawled into bed, resolving to deal with her nasty armor in the morning.

"I'm going through clothes like crazy out here," she murmured to herself, closing her eyes. She thought about the clothes that she wore at home… thin, soft garments that would have been utterly destroyed after one day out here. After hiking out in the cold, though, she really missed the thick flannel jacket she'd been wearing the night she was whisked into Skyrim. Not for the first time, she wondered what had happened to it. It had probably been taken by some guard…

"Not already asleep, are you?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she jolted awake, not realizing that she had been dozing. "I was about to be," she replied, opening her eyes to look at the disturber of her sleep. "Aren't you tired?"

He scoffed. "Not at all. I'm restless, actually."

She closed her eyes and hummed. "Sorry there's nowhere for you to party out here."

"I'm going to talk to the innkeeper. Would you like a drink?" he asked.

"No thanks," she mumbled.

Bradas sighed and looked down at her, hands on his hips. Too often he forgot that she was less experienced than he was, and more likely to tire after a day of walking. He could travel all day and still be in the mood for action later that night. She was already rolling away from him and pulling her blankets above her head as if he was some kind of nuisance. "G'night," she murmured. Her tone was sleepy but firm, as if to tell him to leave her alone to rest.

He huffed a laugh and left her to it. The Dunmer supposed that after three days of mountain climbing and a near-death experience, she was entitled to a bit of rest in a real bed.

He wandered out to the bar, in the mood for a drink whether or not he had company.

"Can I get you a drink, my friend?" the innkeeper asked.

"What do you have?"

"Nord mead and some wine."

"Mead," Bradas replied as he slid some gold toward the bartender. Wilhelm slid him a drink and got one for himself.

"It's a slow night," he said with a shrug. He grinned before taking a drink from the bottle. "Your woman didn't want to stay up and drink with you?"

"She's no woman of mine," Bradas said before taking a sip. The thought was actually laughable—he and Jackie were hardly compatible.

"Ah, I see," Wilhelm replied, although the skepticism in his tone told him that he did not see. It wasn't worth convincing the man otherwise, so he ignored the suggestion.

"I don't suppose you've heard any rumors lately?" he asked.

Wilhelm leaned forward conspiratorially. "I've heard of a child in Windhelm who ran away from the orphanage in Riften. He's cursed."

"Cursed?" Bradas repeated, interested. He couldn't care less about an ordinary child, but a cursed one? Anyone would be curious.

"He's trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood," the bartender said, shaking his head. Bradas frowned. It was a dark thing, but it didn't surprise him in the day and age of war.

It did pique his interest, though. He did have plans to make his way toward Windhelm eventually to search for work, and perhaps a friendly face. He'd heard that a number of Dunmer resided there, and he couldn't deny the desire to see some of his own people. Perhaps he would see this cursed child while he was there.

"By the time we get to Winterhold I'm going to be in great shape," Jackie said as they walked along the road. It was true: she'd never done so much walking in her whole life. It was at least one positive thing that would come out of this ridiculous journey. Maybe she'd even get buff!

"Perhaps your muscles won't be as soft as they are now," Bradas commented. She let out an indignant scoff and glared at the back of his head. Sure, she was out of shape, but you didn't just say that to a person.

"So what is this Windhelm place?" she asked, choosing to ignore the slight and walk a few paces faster to catch up to him.

"A walled city near the Pale," he answered. "It's not far from Winterhold. I'd like to stop there and sell some things, perhaps find some work and stock up on supplies."

She hummed. That all sounded pretty reasonable.

"I hear they're not too friendly toward the Dunmer, so you shouldn't stray too far from me," he said seriously. "Perhaps having a human by my side will help matters."

"Or they'll just hate me for hanging around you," she said with a grin. "I don't know, it doesn't seem like anyone's been too terrible to you so far…" Although she knew that the Nords in Skyrim didn't like foreigners.

He gave her a wry smile. "People in the wild can't afford to be terribly picky about who they do business with. If you asked them their true opinion of the Mer, you would see that they don't favor us."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say. She supposed racism existed everywhere—yet another depressing fact that held true in all realms.

"They probably won't like you much, either," he continued. "You don't look like a Nord."

"It wasn't all that bad in Whiterun," she said.

He gave her a meaningful look. "Ulfric Stormcloak is the jarl of Windhelm," he said.

It took a second for that information to set in. While living in The Bannered Mare she'd heard song after song about killing him and ending the civil war, and she'd overheard countless political arguments (that usually resulted in physical confrontation). She didn't know very much about the war, but the people who sympathized with the Stormcloaks were extremely proud of their Nordic heritage. There was a chance that the people in Windhelm didn't take too kindly to foreigners. "Oh. I think I get it."

"Don't worry. I don't plan on staying for long."

It was a six-day walk to Windhelm. Jackie had thought the journey from Whiterun to Ivarstead had been hard, but the new chill in the air made this journey a special brand of miserable. Over the next few days she came to appreciate modern amenities, like gas and electric heating. It wasn't the first time she'd missed it, and it wouldn't be the last if Winterhold lived up to its name.

She just piled on the clothing and marched along beside Bradas, who, in true manly-man fashion, acted like the cold didn't bother him at all. They walked along rough paths, marking the map as they went along and found caves and crumbling towers.

Bradas focused on training Jackie to fight. At night, once they'd built a fire and settled in, he'd drill her on technique: how to hold a dagger, how to swing a sword, how to shoot a bow and arrow. She definitely wasn't a natural, but after the incident on the mountain he realized that preparing her for conflict was the wisest choice.

It was late in the evening when they finally saw the walls of Windhelm rise up in sky, the light there just enough to cast a very faint glow in the clouds hanging over the city.

It was dark when they finally made it through the gates and into the stone walls of Windhelm. Jackie didn't feel the overwhelming relief she thought they would once they were finally within the city limits. She was happy at the prospect of hot food and a bed, but… everything here felt heavy, tense, and almost sad.

She looked over to Bradas, who also seemed to pick up on the strange mood. "Let's get to the inn," he muttered to her, nodding toward the building that sat in the middle of the square.

Jackie nodded and followed him on weary feet. There were people walking the streets still, looking cold and nervous. She drew a little closer to her companion, wondering what everyone was so freaked out about.

There was a little bit of a commotion on the other side of the square, and Jackie and Bradas both turned their heads to look. Two men were standing near a woman—a Dunmer woman, Jackie realized—and hassling her.

"You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!" one of them was saying.

"But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!" the Dunmer woman tried to reason.

"Hey," the other man said. "Maye the reason these gray-skins don't help us is because they're Imperial spies."

Gray-skins? Jackie looked at her companion nervously, wondering if he was going to say something. He remained silent but continued to watch, his harsh features unreadable.

"Imperial spies? You can't be serious!"

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight. We got ways of finding out what you really are," one of the men said, leering at her before walking away. The woman stood there for a few moments after they left, looking furious and helpless. Bradas took that opportunity to approach her and Jackie followed.

"Looked like those Nords were giving you trouble," he said.

The woman scoffed. "Nothing new there. Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care for us, but Rolff is the worst by far. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the night. A real charmer, that one."

"Why would anyone think you're a spy?" Jackie asked, still reeling from the fact that those guys had been so openly horrible.

The woman sighed. "Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us. And it isn't just the Dunmer they hate; they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact," she said, looking pointedly at Jackie, "just about anyone who isn't a Nord is fair game for their bullying." She turned back to Bradas. "I see you're new to Windhelm. My name is Suvaris Atheron."

"I'm Bradas Sarayn," he replied. "We're just passing through."

"Well met," she replied. "Candlehearth Hall is where most travelers stay, but if you want a good drink and a meal, look for the New Gnisis Corenerclub in the Gray Quarter."

"I will," he said, smiling. "Good night, Suvaris."

If Jackie didn't know any better, she would have thought that Suvaris was flirting with Bradas. She smirked and decided to keep that one to herself.

Things got awkward the moment they walked into the inn and approached the owner.

"Ah, another Dark Elf," the older blonde said, her smile strained and her gaze on Bradas. "Just what Windhelm needs."

Jackie's jaw dropped. There was racism where she was from, but if someone had said something like that at a hotel in Washington they would have been sued in five seconds flat! Bradas ignored her bad attitude and asked for two rooms. Part of her was relieved that there wouldn't be any confrontation, but… all of this was really not okay. She wished she could be bolder, but the most she could do was give the innkeeper a dirty look as she paid for her room.

She dumped her things off onto her bed before changing out of her armor into a cleaner, more comfortable outfit. She got settled in before going over to see how her Dunmer companion was doing.

She knocked on his door before entering. He was sitting on the bed, looking weary and spacing out at the wall.

"Hey," she said quietly, shutting the door quietly. She leaned up against it quietly, shutting her eyes for a moment to listen to the clear, loud singing voice that rang throughout the inn.

"We drink to our youth! For the days come and gone! For the Age of Oppression is now nearly done…"

The words were a little different, but the tune was the same. Jackie sighed. "I don't think I'll ever get away from that song."

He gave a wry laugh. "Part of the reason why I prefer to camp outside under the stars. Rarely will you run into a bard in the middle of the wilderness."

"True enough," she said. "So… Windhelm kind of sucks so far, am I right?" she joked, offering him a strained smile.

He frowned, his sharp features twisting into an expression of disapproval. "It seems a cloud hangs over the city."

She frowned and moved to sit on top of the chest next to his bed. "We won't be staying long anyway, right?"

"No, certainly not. Two days at the most." Bradas didn't want to spend any more time in Windhelm than necessary. "We need to stock up on food and supplies and sell our extra equipment."

"Oh, good," she said. "My bags are getting heavy."

"It should fetch us a decent price," he said thoughtfully, staring at the other side of the room like it would give him the answers. "How much extra armor do you have?"

"A bit," she replied. "Like, a bunch of fur and leather armor. Plus some weapons I can't really use…"

"We'll take them to the market tomorrow and split the profit," he decided, planning out loud. "There are some errands I'd like to run here, but nothing too time-consuming. After that I'd like to be out of Windhelm as soon as possible. Do you have any objections?"

"No, that's fine with me," she said. He finally looked up from where he was staring to face her. It seemed that she was studying him, her dark eyes inquisitive.

"What?"

She blinked. "Um, just wondering if you're okay, I guess. Outside, I mean, that was pretty… terrible."

Bradas gave a humorless laugh. "It's nothing I haven't seen before. Immigrants aren't well-received here in Skyrim, particularly the Dunmer."

"But what that innkeeper said… that was not okay," she said, lowering her voice as if someone outside would hear. Her lips twisted into a frown, her face suddenly forlorn. "No one should say that. It was wrong and…" She heaved a sigh and leaned her chin on one of the posts of his bed. "What am I even saying? I guess it's just one more thing our realms have in common," she sighed.

"I thought there were no Dunmer where you were from," he said curiously.

She shrugged. "No, but there's still racism. And nationalism." Jackie was solemn, looking at him intensely as though she was thinking of things she couldn't explain.

"Perhaps we should think of happier things," he suggested, standing up and stretching out. "Like a hot meal and our warm beds."

She grinned, the grim mood broken. "Sure. Should we get some food?"

The next morning she woke up because it was so cold. She lay in bed for a few moments, curled up under the blankets and missing the space heater she'd bought once upon a time to warm up the room she occupied in her old apartment. She daydreamed about her old roommates… the times they'd stayed in for the night to bake cookies and watch Friends, pretending they had been privy to all the events in the 90s rather than oblivious little kids.

She hadn't been gone from her world for three months, and still it seemed like a whole lifetime ago.

Finally, when she could lie still no more, she sat up and tossed the covers aside.

She changed into some men's breeches and a loose shirt, not willing to wear a dress when it was freezing like this. During the five minutes it took to braid her hair, she reflected on how short her new morning routine was without make up or flat irons. It was kind of nice to simplify things, although there were times when she dearly missed all her tools. Although it had been stressful at times, she missed her job at the salon. It hadn't been making her rich but she'd really enjoyed it. Now most of her money came from looting bodies. Ugh.

A knock at her door indicated that Bradas was probably awake and ready to inflict himself on the world. "Come in," she called.

Bradas opened the door and stood in the threshold, his signature frown upon his face.

"Good morning," she said brightly.

"Is it?" he drawled, obviously still sleepy. She stood up, all ready to go.

"We're going to the market today, right?"

"That we are. Get your things and we'll go."

They made their way outside to the market and hit most of the stalls—the blacksmith, the food vendors, and then a store in the Gray Quarter that Bradas had wanted to check out.

That afternoon, after several errands, they sat on a stone ledge, fresh food in hand. She bit into an apple and chewed as she pondered. The Dunmer named Sadri who owned Sadri's Used Wares had mentioned something about the Argonian dock workers while chatting with Bradas. "What's an Argonian?" she asked.

Bradas didn't know why he was surprised every time she asked a question like that. He supposed that she hadn't had a chance to see all the races yet, only having lived in Whiterun for a short time. They hadn't come across too many people in their travels besides bandits, and she tended to avoid looking too closely at them after he cut them down.

"Would you like to see?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows behind her apple. "They work down at the docks."

"Would that be alright? Or, you know… rude?"

He scoffed. "Rude?"

"Yeah, like, voyeuristic or something?"

He laughed at her—leave it to Jackie to worry about offending everyone. "No. Let's go to the docks and I'll show you."

So there were lizard people, apparently.

Jackie did her best to look casual and not like she'd come down to the docks to stare at people. She could hardly believe her eyes—she had thought that Bradas was unusual, but these people were unlike anything she'd ever imagined.

They walked past the workers and sailors and toward the edge of the cold water. Bradas inhaled deeply and exhaled, his breath rising up into the air like smoke as they looked out to the sea. It was quiet where they stood, the sounds of the docks distant and smothered by the clamor of the water against the shore.

"What do you think?" he asked her with a sly smile.

"I just wonder what else I've missed," she said. "Are there other races I didn't know about?"

"Who do you know of now?"

She thought for a moment. "Dunmer, obviously," she replied, returning his grin. "Nord, Imperial, Redguard. And I've heard of the Khajiit but I've never seen them."

Bradas laughed, his eyes shining as he looked down at her. She knew it was at her expense but it was rare to see such a genuine smile on him. "Yeah, yeah, yuck it up," she said good-naturedly. "What else is there?"

"Bretons, a human race," he began once he was finished laughing. "They have elven blood in them."

"Dark Elves and humans?" she asked, surprised. She hadn't yet seen anyone who could look like a mixture of those two races, although she wouldn't know what that would look like, anyway.

He laughed. "Not likely. Some say they have Aldmer ancestors."

"There are other types of elves?"

"Many. Of course there are the Dunmer. Then Altmer, the High Elves, and the Bosmer, Wood Elves. Not to mention all the dead races."

"Oh," was all she had to say. Nirn had an enormous history that she wasn't sure she'd ever fully grasp.

"Then you have the Orsimer," he continued, not bothering to give her a more in-depth history lesson.

"Who?"

"Orcs."

"What?" she asked, visions of Lord-of-the-Rings-style orcs running around Skyrim dancing in her head. "Are you serious?"

"You know of the Orsimer?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I've… heard stories," she said. "There's books with Orcs." And movies, but she wasn't up to explaining movies to him.

"Really?" he said, crossing his arms. "What kinds of stories?"

"Uh, scary ones, I guess," she replied. "Hey, there're stories about elves, too."

That caught his interest. "I thought there were no elves in your realm. How could there be stories of people who don't exist?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. Maybe once upon a time we had some elves kicking around," she replied with a shrug. At this point, she was sure that anything was possible.

"What tales do they tell?" he asked.

"About elves?"

"Who else?" he asked.

She couldn't help but wonder if she should keep it to herself. Bradas already had enough of an ego without hearing about that mystical race from the Tolkien novels. "In my realm, elves are tiny little people who bake sweets in trees," she informed him with a grin.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're lying," he said, watching her closely. She placed her hands on her hips and looked out to the sea, avoiding his gaze because it would make her laugh.

"Not lying," she said. "Some of them live in the North Pole and make toys for kids."

"I don't like your realm," he said, and the laughter she'd been holding back finally escaped. He let himself smile a little. "Come, we should go before it gets too much colder," he said.

She sighed and wiped away the beginnings of mirthful tears. "You're right, it's already freezing. Did you do everything you wanted to do today?"

"Nearly. There was one more thing."

"What's that?"

Bradas lowered his voice a little. "I've heard rumors," he said, "of a child in this city who is cursed."

She looked at him blankly. "A cursed child? Okay…" She'd learned not to be skeptical when it came to paranormal stuff in this realm, but she couldn't imagine why a kid would be cursed. "Why?"

"He's trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood," he informed her.

"Which is…" He sighed in exasperation and she just shrugged in response. He couldn't expect her to know everything.

"They're assassins," he said.

"Oh. Why would a kid need assassins?" she asked, frowning. That seemed… weird.

Bradas was the one to shrug this time. "Strange things happen in times of war."

"So we're just gonna go and gawk at some poor kid while he tries to summon assassins." Somehow, it didn't seem smart.

Bradas grinned and rolled his shoulders like he was getting ready for a fight. "Have you no sense of curiosity? I'd like to go see."

Jackie didn't like the idea, but there was little else for her to do but sit in the tavern and be bored. "Let's go check it out, I guess," she replied.

They left the docks and entered the city once more, wandering around the upper level in the residential area. Bradas, as usual, already seemed to know where he was going, which made her suspect that he'd been planning this for a while.

She felt a little nervous as they approached a Dunmer woman and a young boy that were hanging out near the home, talking.

"Is it true that Aventus Aretino is performing the Black Sacrament in there?" the boy asked. Jackie frowned. The Black Sacrament? That sounded like some creepy cult stuff.

"Oh, Grimvar, always with the nonsense," his Dunmer companion answered in the tone of voice that adults used when they wanted to steer a child onto another subject. "No, no, of course not. Those are just tales."

"Fine!" the precocious boy replied, smiling. "Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives just right there. I'm going to knock on his door…"

"No, child, wait!" she said quickly. "That boy, that house… they're cursed."

"Ha, then I'm right!" he said victoriously. "I knew it. He's trying to get somebody killed!"

"Alright. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin. Now, enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need."

Jackie watched with Bradas as the pair walked away together. She didn't like the sound of this—what kid wanted to get somebody killed? She looked away from the Dunmer woman and her young charge over to Bradas, who was already trying to get into the house.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he got out a couple of lock-picks and began sticking them into the door handle.

"Hush, not so loud," he chastised. She looked up nervously to make sure there were no guards in sight.

"That's illegal," she said, and then realized how stupid that sounded as soon as it left her mouth. They'd been looting and killing their way through Skyrim and breaking and entering was bothering her? Bradas gave her a look that reflected the absurdity of the statement and continued his lock-picking endeavor.

The door gave way with a faint click and opened wide for them. Bradas entered without hesitation, and she followed as silently as she could, shutting the door behind her.

The house was barren, cold, and empty. Much of the furniture had been removed, and it looked like no one even lived here. Had it not been for the clear chanting echoing throughout the rooms of the small home, Jackie might have even believed that illusion.

"Sweet mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me. For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear…" Jackie felt a chill go down her spine as the chanting continued. She looked over to her companion, eyes wide.

For the first time ever, Bradas actually looked kind of spooked. Maybe the words themselves were creepy, but hearing them in a child's voice made it all the worse. The pair followed the sound of chanting until they came across a boy kneeling in a small room, rocking back and forth and hovering over…

A full skeleton. Jackie covered her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp, the shock causing her to take a step back. Bradas stiffened up, his face carefully blank.

Jackie was the first to speak after a few long moments, her voice gentle and tentative. "Hello?" she asked, feeling antsy. She wanted to grab the kid and get him out of here, away from the pile of bone and flesh that he was stooped over.

He whipped around, a large, manic smile on his face. "You've come at last! I knew you would!" he cried, his hopeful eyes shining up at Bradas.

The Dark Elf frowned, surveying the entire grisly scene. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"It worked!" Aventus laughed, ignoring the question. "I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body, and the… the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

"I'm sorry, boy," he said, his voice firm. "But I'm not who you think I am."

"Of course you are!" Aventus said desperately, in a way that made Jackie feel sick. "I prayed, and you came, and now you'll accept my assassination contract!"

"Contract?"

"My mother, she… she died. I… I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall," he spat. "The headmistress is a cruel, evil woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible, to all of us," he explained. "So I ran away, and came here. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here, and you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

Jackie felt Bradas tug on her sleeve, and she realized that she'd been staring at what looked like human heart. "Let us leave," he murmured. She followed him out the door, her heart pounding in her chest.

It took a few moments to be able to speak. "… Why is that kid alone?" she asked, feeling a tiny bit hysterical. That had been horrible. "We need to tell… I mean, someone should take him in, why do they let him live all alone?"

Bradas frowned. He wasn't happy either, but Jackie didn't seem to understand the way things worked. "And who would take him in, hm? He's already run away from the orphanage in Riften," he said. "He's left the only place he can go. He's responsible for himself now."

"That's not true," she argued. "Someone should adopt him. Foster care. Or…"

"There are more orphans in Skyrim than there are kind homes for them," he said. "He's likely better off on his own than he was in the orphanage. That he made his way here all the way from Riften tells me that he is more than capable of caring for himself."

"But he's a kid," she said, completely at a loss for what to do. If there was no one to take care of him, then there was nothing to be done… and it wasn't like she, an off-worlder with zero resources, was capable of helping.

"That's just it," he said, his eyes harsh and frowning. "He is no longer a child. Come, Jackie. There is nothing to be done."

Bradas left Jackie to her own devices later that night when they got to the inn. She didn't seem too eager for company, anyway—she'd gone to bed early, claiming that she was too tired to stay up for dinner.

She was entirely too emotional at times, and he didn't envy her. Jackie was far too soft-hearted, and she wasn't cut out for life in Skyrim. Sometimes, it was all too obvious that she was brought up in comfort.

He did have to admit to himself, however, that he'd been highly disturbed by the scene in the Aretino home. Bradas knew that young children were capable of incredible feats, but gathering the ingredients necessary for the Black Sacrament was a difficult task if he knew anything about summoning. And travelling so far on his own… It was strange, indeed. He wondered if the child really was cursed.

And would he manage to summon an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood? It was doubtful, if the rumors he'd heard in his lifetime were true. But they had once been a feared organization, and even now people were wary.

Bradas sat in his room, leaned up against the headboard of his tiny bed in deep thought. He was actually tempted to grant Aventus Aretino's request.

It was a ridiculous idea—taking a child's contract. There were so many risks, physical and financial. After all, what payment could an orphan really offer? And there was also Jackie, who would surely object to such a detour…

On the other hand, though, he wanted to see Riften. And going to the College now would mean spending a significant amount of time there studying. Was he truly ready for such a commitment? He wanted to explore Skyrim and see what the land had to offer. He liked what he'd seen so far, and he wasn't quite ready to spend who knows how many years improving his magic techniques.

And if this 'Grelod the Kind' was truly as horrible as Aventus claimed, she probably did deserve to die. He could always see her and make a decision.

A trip to Riften wouldn't put them off course longer than a few extra weeks. Surely Jackie would understand—her realm would be there when she got back.

A/N:

So Bradas is kind of a flake… and freaking out about committing to the College, where he'd have to stay in place for a little while. It was a little hard for me to justify Bradas' decision to go all the way to Riften to kill Grelod the Kind (in fact, it's kind of hard to justify it while playing the game—it seems kind of weird to just kill a lady just because a kid asks you too, right?). But this happens in the game and opens up a lot of doors for the Dragonborn, so here it is! Hopefully Bradas' motivations make sense.

Also, let's face it. Killing Grelod in the game is the bomb. Let's do this.