A/N: Now, we present to you, chapter 14. For those who have been waiting rather desperately for the Dragonborn to appear…. This great hero shall be making an appearance over the next chapter or three (we're being generous with guesses). So sit tight – maybe you've already guessed who it is already! Let us know your guesses and your thoughts on this chapter in a review, and enjoy!
Oh, and if you have any ships so far, who's getting with who, let us know about that too. It's interesting to hear the views of our readers, especially since so many can be so damned spot-on it's scary! Anyway, enjoy, and review!

Chapter 14: Framed, Not Hanged

The contracts went by quickly, and this Solän'cae got to meet all of the Family members. This one finds that, of all, she likes Babette, Veezara and Nazir the best. Festus is sometimes too set in age, and that makes this one grumpy. Gabriella is too strange, and the other two this one avoids if possible. My armor fits perfectly, and the enchantments that come standard with the armor were all well-done by Festus. This one has never been so comfortable in armor before – it is a great feeling, to walk the world in such a powerful symbol. It is only a pity that others do not think the same of it.

But I will change all that, this one has sworn, and an oath like this is not one forgotten.

Riften was considerably warmer than Winterhold, and the sparse forests and autumnal colors of red, orange, yellow, brown and gold were a welcome and pleasant contrast to the perpetual white and grey of Winterhold. I liked not being forced to walk around with gloves and a thick cloak and scarves when I wasn't inside, or not wearing my Apprentice robes. Interestingly, the College had let me keep them. I supposed, since they didn't bear any official College insignia like the Master Lecturers had, it didn't matter if I kept them. And they were useful, too – because I hadn't exactly chosen a preferred School, there wasn't a specific enchantment bonus to my robes relating to a School – they were only enchanted to help speed my magicka regeneration.

Marcurio and I stretched, stiff from the past three hours of sitting in the wagon, crammed in with many other people coming down from Winterhold, Windhelm, Kynesgrove and Shor's Stone. "Well, we're finally here," I managed before yawning. It was probably late afternoon – the cloudy skies made it difficult to tell the time.
Marcurio nodded, glancing up at the sea of grey above us. "Probably."

I shot him a sidelong glance. He hadn't said much since we left Winterhold, but then, more and more people had joined us, so conversation had become difficult without suspicious Nords accusing us of impossible and terribly damaging magical assaults of all kinds. We walked towards the gates, and stopped when a Riften guard held up a hand. I glanced between him and his partner – the glance he shot his companion made me wonder if I was about to be ripped off.

Riften is the city of thieves, after all.

"Halt. Before you can enter the city, you need to pay the visitor's tax of twenty-five gold per head," the guard said, speaking just loud enough to be heard.
I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling Marcurio bristle next to me. "Are you serious?" I scowled, raising my voice. "This is obviously a shakedown! There's no such thing as a –"
"Alright, alright!" the guard hushed me quickly, waving his hands up and down to try and silence me. "Do you want all of Riften to hear you? Just let me open the gate for you!"

I snorted unhappily, keeping up my act as I strode past the guard, the Imperial Adept right behind me.

And then I grinned brightly: we were in Riften, and I could start over in the Thieves Guild! I just needed to find Brynjolf or Niruin, and I would be in on Enthir's recommendation. "Some food and a place to sleep sounds like a great idea right now," Marcurio commented, looking around at the wooden buildings.
I nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I think that's an inn over there," I pointed at a building ahead of us, a bee and a hook of some kind painted onto a wooden sign.
"What made you think that?" the Imperial asked sarcastically, walking towards the building.
"Gee, I dunno – the people sitting at the tables inside, and the Argonian innkeepers, maybe," I shot back, looking through the windows for the first time. "Might've been the sign at the door, though. Not too sure. Maybe I'm psychic!" I wiggled my fingers at Marcurio, rolling my eyes and shaking my head with a grin.

Then my head was suddenly locked in between his arm and ribs, and he grabbed my head with his other hand and ruffled my hair. "No!" I growled, trying to break free. "Dammit, I just brushed and plaited my hair! Do you know how knotted it's going to be now?!" I giggled, trying to push him away and shake him off my head.
"Well, that's too bad – I thought you Breton girls liked playing with your hair," Marcurio laughed, letting me go and chortling as I tried to smooth my mussed up hair.
"Not funny," I returned, failing to keep the grin off my face.
"Right, right," he opened the door to the inn with a half-bow. "Ladies with hair like cave trolls first."
"Asshole. It's your fault I look like this," I strode past with my nose in the air. I would own my free-flying and mussed hair because of that – and the chortle that followed me in.

We were barely in when an Argonian male walked up to us, wiping his hands on his apron. He gave us what I supposed was a friendly – albeit toothy – grin. "Welcome to the Bee and Barb, friends. Can I interest you in a table, with some good food and our specialty drinks? Perhaps also a room for the night?" he glanced between us, expectantly hopeful.
"Sure, thanks," I nodded. "On all accounts. Though, depending on capacity, we'd prefer separate beds, at the very least."
"Of course, I shall make the arrangements. Come, make yourself comfortable," the Argonian gestured we sit at a table. "I'll bring the menus for you shortly."
"Oh, before you go," Marcurio interrupted. "Could you spread the word that I'm a battlemage for hire?"

The Argonian nodded, giving us another toothy smile before heading to the counter, where a female Argonian was working. We sat down at the table, dropping our packs next to our chairs – Marcurio's was mostly food and a change of clothes, mine was everything especially precious I possessed. "Well, at least that's out of the way," Marcurio stretched, looking around the common room with disinterest.

It never failed to amaze me how one person could look so completely bored with life, yet was irritatingly aware of lots of little things. I started undoing my plait, and ran my fingers through my hair to try and ease out the knots on my head. The Bee and Barb was evidently a popular place, as it filled quickly over the next half-hour or so. The service was quick, friendly – the Argonian pair worked well together, and they were the only two managing the entire inn. It was fascinating to watch them, really.

Over the rest of the evening, Marcurio had been called away by several prospective employers. Every time he returned irritated, and the would-be employer looked ready to throttle the mage. It was during just such a moment when a tall, red-haired Nord sat down across from me, a smooth grin on his face as he looked at me, leaning forwards as if we were having a secret conversation. I stared back, wondering what was happening. "You look like you're short on septims, lass. I think I can help you out with that," he said, making a show of looking me over.
I raised a brow. "Oh, really? I don't see how that's your business."
"Oh, but you see, lass, that's exactly my business." He glanced around the room quickly, then beckoned me closer. I obliged, curious as to where this went. "I can't tell you much now, lass, but if you're interested in a little extra coin, come find me in the market tomorrow. I need an extra pair of hands, and in my line of work, extra hands get paid well."
I stared at him – was he Thieves Guild? But before I could ask, he slapped the table with his hand twice, leaning back and standing. "If I see you tomorrow, lass, I'll know your answer. Enjoy your stay in Riften."

And just like that, he was gone. He'd see me tomorrow at the market, alright.

I managed to read Solän'cae's letter at long last, once I was lying in my bed, and I had to laugh when I read about this 'Kharjo' she had a crush on – it made me think of Michael, and how he had simply vanished into the wind after taking us to Riverwood, and Solän'cae's light-hearted teasing. Sure, he had told me that he could be contacted through the Imperial Legion in Solitude, but what was I going to say in a letter to him? 'Hello, remember the Breton girl you saved, Delany? Just wanted to know how you were doing'?

I snorted, folding Solän'cae's letter and stowing it in my bag. I had a better chance of finding Solän'cae wandering the wilds than I did getting a reply from Michael. I doubted he would remember me, anyway. I slid down the bed, and snuffed the candle on the bedside table, the smoke curling and coiling in the moonlight. I should just forget that – what are the odds we'll meet again, and that he'll remember me? I'm sure he deals with so many people every day that he won't remember them all.

Unfortunately, my dreams decided to head on exactly that set of odds.

Marcurio had finally found an idiot willing to deal with his ego, so he was leaving with the man to do some research in Nordic barrows around Riften. He actually seemed slightly excited by the prospect, but damned to Oblivion if he let anyone know he wanted to do it.

Meanwhile, I was waiting for the market to open, and hoping that the red-haired Nord was on his way here sooner, so I could find out exactly what I was going to do, and hopefully find out if he was Thieves Guild. Or if he knew Brynjolf. Maybe he is Brynjolf, I thought, looking around and wishing the market was open already.

"You're early, lass."

I turned to the Nord's voice, flashing him a grin and sliding off the wall I had perched myself on. "First impressions, right?" I followed him to his stall, and helped pack out several bottles filled with a strange, thick red liquid. I tilted the bottle dubiously, watching the liquid almost refuse to move from one side to the other. I quickly put the bottle down with a sheepish blush when the man stopped to look at me and chuckle at my expression. "That's Falmerblood Elixir. I'm sure this will be quite popular," he grinned, carefully arranging the bottles on display.
I stared at him incredulously for a moment before I remembered to close my mouth. "Falmerblood? As in, Snow-Elf-Falmer?" I checked.
The Nord grinned. "Aye, lass. Thanks for the help. Now, I suppose you're interested in knowing what I need an extra pair of hands for," he leaned his elbow on the stall counter.
Fine, I'll bite. "Yeah, I'll admit I'm curious," I crossed my arms, standing straight. This was getting more and more interesting.
"Good. Now, I'll admit, I'm glad you decided to help out, lass. What I need you to do, is steal a silver ring from Madesi, the Argonian jeweler, and plant it on Brand-Shei, the Dunmer who will set up next to me. You'll find the ring in Madesi's strongbox under his stall's counter."
I nodded slowly, glancing to where the Nord gestured discretely. "How do you propose I get behind the stall with Madesi there? I may be good with a lockpick, but I'm not exactly Nocturnal," I threw the man a questioning look. He merely grinned, chuckling. "Good! I'll cause a distraction, then you get in and do what you have to do. Oh, and Brand-Shei has a pouch he carries almost directly behind him – should make things a little easier."
"Thanks for the tips. So, I'll see you later!" I grinned, drifting closer to where the Argonian jeweler had his stall.

The market gathered quite the crowd early on, and the Nord was dealing with his customers rather carefully – selling several other colored potions, and skillfully turning down those who wanted to buy the Falmerblood Elixir. Falmer blood my arse – that's probably some other bizarre concoction, I thought, shaking my head. But I was curious – what if it really was some kind of Falmer blood elixir? I couldn't put anything aside on account of strangeness – after all, a dragon had managed to appear in Skyrim. But also… no-one had seen any dragons since. Or maybe I wasn't paying attention to the right rumors.

Right about then the red-haired Nord caught my eye. Nodded. I grinned.

He pulled out a box, setting it down just outside of his stall, stepping onto it and sweeping up a bottle of the thick red liquid. "Gather around, everyone! Gather around!" he called, waving the crowd closer. "I have something important to show and tell! Gather around! Everyone! It's something amazing! Gather around! It demands your attention! No pushing and shoving, now – plenty of room for everyone! Gather 'round, gather 'round!"

I watched as several merchants grumbled and shuffled closer to the Nord. The townsfolk were enthralled – obviously, this had to happen rather often. "Come on, man, what's it this time?" a Dark Elf – the one I recognized as Brand-Shei, my mark, grumbled, sitting down on a stack of crates. I had access to him without being seen! Perfect! I rolled my neck from side to side, pretending to stretch out some stiffness while I checked to see who was looking my way. No-one, excellent. I stepped behind Madesi's stall, dropping to my haunches.

"Patience, Brand-Shei! This is a rare opportunity! And I won't want you to get left out," the Nord continued, his voice almost like that of a great bard. It was the kind that convinced you to do absolutely anything. I could learn from him.

"Well, that's what you said about the Wisp Essence, and that turned out to be crushed Nirnroot mixed with water!" Madesi called.

I sniggered, sliding the counter door open to a small, iron lockbox. I pulled out my lockpicks, setting to work on the box.

"Ah, well, that was a simple misunderstanding! But this item –" there was a dramatic pause "– I assure you, is the real thing!"

The lock clicked open and I took the ring out, closing the box and sliding the door closed. I stood, the ring cradled in my fist as I watched the Nord show off that elixir of his. I sidled up behind the sitting Dunmer, watching the Nord sell his wares.

"Lads and lasses, I present to you… Falmerblood Elixir!" he shouted, holding up the bottle with a grand flourish. Reactions were mixed – some applauded, some groaned. I grinned.
I glanced down at Brand-Shei – he was still aware of me behind him. But his voice broke through the initial reactions to the Nord's declaration. "Oh – are you serious? Falmerblood – as in, the Snow Elves?"
"The one and only! Mystical beings who lived in ancient times, and who were great masters of magic! Imagine the power that coursed through their veins!"
"How did you get that, then? No-one's seen them in years!" Madesi calls. Obviously, he's one of the few seeing right through the Nord's display.

Brand-Shei was debating to himself over whether or not he should buy the elixir. Wait just a bit….

The Nord nodded slowly, admitting to that truth. I was also curious: how would he explain this away? "That is true, my friend! My sources must remain secret for their own protection, but I can assure you, each and every one of you gathered here, that this is the real thing, and that the contents of this elixir is the real thing! One sip of the elixir and your wishes will be granted!"

Brand-Shei didn't notice me leaning down towards his pouch.

"Great wealth! Everlasting life! Or limitless power could be yours!" the red-haired man shouted, getting more and more passionate. Brand-Shei shifted, uncomfortable – should he buy? Could he afford it or should he make a way to afford it? There's that pouch, nice and easy to sneak in a ring…. I rolled the ring to my fingertips.

"How much does it cost?" Brand-Shei asked, moving forwards just as I dropped the ring into his pouch, the plant unnoticed. I slunk back, straightening and finished watching the show. The man shot me a brief glance before replying. I nodded: the job was done.
"Well, Brand-Shei, that's a very good question! This elixir, lads and lasses, only costs a mere twenty septims! Hurry before my limited supply is gone! This great offer only stands if you make your orders today and collect tomorrow! Only twenty –" he kept going, but I tuned in to listen to the Argonian jeweler.
"He has to be lying!" Madesi growled, unable to contain himself anymore. I'd never seen an Argonian angry before, and it was somewhat intimidating. "He gives us merchants a bad name."

But Brynjolf kept prattling a few catchy phrases, drawing in a quick crowd of prospective buyers. And suddenly he held up a hand. "And that looks like all I have time for today! Come back tomorrow if you want to buy! Only twenty septims! I'll see you tomorrow!" he stepped down from his makeshift pedestal, gathered up his wares and packed them up. The crowd dispersed with excited disappointment, and I walked up to the Nord as he shut the wooden box. He grinned when he saw me. "So, you were successful, lass?"
"Indeed I was. Mind if I ask why I planted that ring on that specific person?" I handed him a loose bottle.
"Thanks. Well, I'm with an organization that makes its home in the Ratway, in a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. We were asked by a client to remind Brand-Shei to mind his own business. Here's your payment, lass, as promised," he handed me a coinpurse. A quick glance inside made me guess there was about a hundred septims.
"Thanks," I grinned. "So, you're Thieves Guild?" I asked quietly, stowing my coin.

The Nord laughed, lifting his wooden box. "Aye, I am. Brynjolf's the name."

I stared at him. "You're Brynjolf?"
Brynjolf frowned at me. "Aye. Do we know each other, lass?"
"Uhm, no – not really, anyway. Enthir said he sent a letter to you about me –"
"Ah! You're Enthir's lass, Delany! Heard some good things about you from him. He said you had some real talent. Follow me, then; I'll take you through the Ratway to the Ragged Flagon and get you settled in there."
"Just need to get my things from the Bee and Barb – and I definitely am not Enthir's lass, catch my meaning?" I smirked, bounding off to check out of the inn.

I was in. The Thieves Guild was all mine now!