"Maven is pissed," Mercer said as he paced the length of the cistern. "Apparently a group of bandits thought they could break into her place and empty out her safe. We obviously need to rectify this, and quickly."

"Hit them back?" Brynjolf suggested. She could only imagine the dark smile on his face- it was his trademark grin whenever he talked about business. "Clean them out in turn? Sounds easy enough to me."

"That, and," Mercer continued briskly. "Their heads. She wants them all dead."

Svala had been listening from her cot, feigning sleep. Bandits? Brynjolf had stopped her from poisoning the leader who had brought her to Riften, but she knew the rest of his gang were still nearby in the wilds of the Rift. This job sounded like the perfect opportunity to not only settle a score, but to also prove herself within the Guild.

"Absolutely not," Brynjolf snapped. "We are the Thieves Guild, not the Dark Brotherhood. If Maven wants a hit she can employ that lot to do her dirty work for her. I'll have no part of it."

"Lucky for you, Brynjolf, you're not the only person in this Guild," Mercer retorted icily. "I'm sure I'll be able to find a willing candidate for the amount of gold Maven's offered up for this job."

Brynjolf sighed deeply. "As you wish, Mercer. But leave the lass out of it. I won't have her become an assassin."

"As if I'd ask her," Mercer scoffed. "She's too green for a job like this."

Too green? Svala seethed silently. She would show him. She would show both of them. She'd have those bandits cleared out and their heads on a pike for Maven. She waited until Mercer and Brynjolf had made their way back into the Flagon before rising from her bunk and collecting supplies for her journey.

"You're really going to take the bait like that?" Rune's smug voice came from behind her. His arms were crossed across his chest as he studied her with bemusement. "You know Mercer only said that because he knew half of us were listening- you included. He's testing you."

"I never back down from a challenge," Svala told him defiantly, grabbing a spare bow from the weapons cache as well as a few swords (she was a dreadful archer, Ninruin was always telling her so, but better to be over prepared than under). "Besides, they killed my family. You going to try and stop me?"

"Of course not," Rune answered her brightly. "I'm coming with you." He pulled a packed bag from the chest in front of his own bunk. She wasn't crazy about the idea of splitting the bounty with him, but knew that Rune would still tag along no matter what she told him- he was like a puppy dog with a crush, constantly following her around, leaving little trinkets on her cot. She would've been flattered had she had eyes for anyone other than Brynjolf.

They took the secret entrance out of Riften's cemetery before setting out for Faldar's Tooth on foot. The bandits had set up quite a cozy camp at the abandoned fort, complete with trained wolves in cages. They could hear the low growling as they approached the compound and Rune held out an arm to slow her. "We need to take out their sentries before getting any closer," he murmured, raising his own bow. She followed suit, though the arrows she fired whizzed uselessly by their marks. "Have you actually gotten worse at archery?" The imperial asked her with a stifled laugh.

"Shut up," she mumbled, her face turning red as Rune continued to laugh, taking out the rest of the guards with ease. The wolves began to howl, noticing the absence of their masters, and her stomach dropped. A crowd of bandits had exited the fort and were looking for the threat earnestly, weapons drawn. "Shit! What do we do now?"

"We're outnumbered," Rune told her grimly. "And if they know we're here, we won't get past them if it's just us two. We need to head back, try again later."

She was about to agree with him when she caught sight of the bandit looter closest to her. The bosmer woman was wearing something gold- the light glinted off it as she turned towards them, even as rain clouds gathered in the sky. Svala felt her throat catch- could it be? Her mother's necklace? She remembered the time her father had spent saving up gold and flawless emeralds to make it for her...

Svala felt her blood boil and before she could register Rune's cry of panic she was rushing forward with her sword raised. The bandit let out a high whistle and the sound of snarling grew closer, even as the bosmer fell dead not a moment later from Rune's arrow sticking out of her eye socket, a ghost of her last whistle still upon her lips, frozen forever. "Move!" Rune hissed at her as he took off running back towards the city, and she followed in earnest until she could feel sharp teeth nipping at her heels. She tried to throw her body forwards but a wolf sunk its teeth into her calf, pulling her down onto the earth. She screamed in agony, trying to kick the creature in the skull with her free foot, but only succeeded in making it angrier. Blood welled up in its jaws as it shook its head deeper into her flesh.

Rune rushed forwards and buried his mace into the creature's skull, helping to pry its sharp teeth off Svala as the light left its eyes. "Can you walk?" He asked her anxiously, paling when she shook her head with a whimper. "Shit. Ok. Jump on my back, I'll try to carry you bac-"

Svala screamed- suddenly there was an arrow sticking out of Rune's shoulder. His fist enclosed around it immediately, pulling it free from his body with a grunt. His arm extended towards her, his face stricken with fear, trying to push her to the ground. She understood his meaning too late, feeling an arrow imbed itself into her back and the warmth of a paralysis potion beginning to spread from the wound. Her body crumpled to the ground and she was able to see, through terrified eyes, the rest of the bandits approaching her and Rune with chains.

"Gerdur? Are we almost there?"

Svala awoke with a start. Her thighs were nearly immobile from gripping Nameless so tightly- she had traveled through the night after leaving the Reach camp, even though her body was screaming with exhaustion and she could feel a fever brewing due to the damp armor she wore.

Ralof was stable, at least. His own fever was high and he often thought she was his sister, but at least he was still conscious (most of the time). When he would grow quiet she would stop riding and douse him with a minor healing potion- it wouldn't do much, but it seemed to keep him comfortable. She didn't dare take one for herself; Alduin would be the one to kill her, not something as simple as a fever. The gods just weren't that merciful to her. She could press on.

Still, as she rode on, Svala felt herself growing drowsy and confused. Sometimes when she looked behind her she half expected to see Rune in Ralof's place, his dark eyes wide and scared as the rain misted around them. The line between the past and the present grew more blurred with each passing moment. She tried to shake the memories but her mind would not let her forget.

"She's pretty, and young too. Think she's housebroken?"

Four bandits were holding her by the wrists and ankles, keeping her spread apart as though they attempted to tear her into pieces. They had ripped off her armor and left her bare as she sobbed, trying to twist out of their grip. She called for Rune until her voice gave out- since they had brought her back to Faldar's Tooth she hadn't seen him after they had dragged him away. A leather strip was forcefully shoved into her mouth and tied around her head as a primitive gag.

"No, she wants to see her little boyfriend so bad, I say we show her," the bandit leader sneered at her through his iron helmet. She spat at him through her tears and he punched her in the jaw. The pain made her vision darken.

She could see one orc in an executioner's hood carrying a bloody sack towards her and instantly her struggling reached a crescendo as she screamed as loudly as possible through the gag. Svala tried to close her eyes but the bandit leader pried them open with his grimy fingers, laughing sadistically as the sack was pulled away and Rune's severed head dangled from the orc's other fist. Rune's eyes remained open and blank, his mouth still wide in a silent scream, and the nausea and the grief that surged over her left her breathless as her vision went black.

"Hey, hey, easy now. It's okay. Take it easy, you've been through a lot."

Svala's eyes snapped open sometime later and she saw herself face to face with a redguard man she didn't recognize wearing distinct black and red armor. Only one organization wore armor like that; the Dark Brotherhood. She tried to scurry away from him and find a weapon but he placed a friendly hand on her leg. "Easy, I'm not here to hurt you. You're a member of the Guild, right?" She nodded, still ready to attack if need be. "Mercer sent me. He called in some favors to my leader. It's okay."

Reluctantly, she felt the tension drop from her body (slowly) as she scanned her surroundings. The bandits' corpses lay scattered around the courtyard and the air was heavy with the smell of rot and blood. Rune's head was lying a few paces away from her, and she started to cry silently once more upon seeing it again. "R-Rune," she whimpered, pointing to what was left of her friend with a shaking finger, hoping the assassin would understand.

Sympathy bloomed on his kindly features. "A friend of yours? I'm sorry." She noticed then that unlike the other assassins she had heard of, he didn't wear a cowl to obstruct his face- instead, he wore the redguard hood of Hammerfell and carried one of their curved swords on his hip as well. "May he find peace in the Void."

"I-I need to loot the ch-chest...for the job..." Svala sniffled, trying to rise to her feet on shaky legs, the wolf bite ripping itself open anew with each movement she made. The assassin helped steady her with a supportive arm around her waist and she motioned to him where she needed to go. The chest containing Maven's valuables was tucked away inside the fort and the redguard stood guard for her as she picked the lock. Her stomach dropped once the chest popped open- none of the other loot matched anything the bandits had taken from her family.

These weren't the bandits that had killed her parents. She had let her rage cloud her judgement and she had gotten Rune killed for nothing.

"Gerdur, do you have any more of that mead I like? With the juniper berries in it?"

Ralof's weak voice barely registered in Svala's cloudy mind. She pulled the horse to a stop and retrieved the final healing potion, propping up his head and tipping the liquid inside. "This is it," she told him hoarsely, trying to ignore just how pale he was, and the spreading haze of fever overtaking her own body. "You're going to have to hold on until we get to Whiterun now. We're so close, Rune. We're almost there."

They were quickly approaching the Western watchtower and she could see the walls of the city coming into view. Maybe an hour more and they would be inside Whiterun and she could hand Rune over to Danica and everything would be okay...Mercer would be pleased she had gotten Maven's things back and Brynjolf would see she could handle much more on her own than fishing off the travelers...

"What were you thinking?!" Mercer bellowed at her once she had been returned to the cistern. Brynjolf stared at her emptily next to him, and his blatant disappointment made her feel even worse. "Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get Nazir to bail you out?? You're lucky we weren't scraping pieces of you off the ground too!"

Vex let out a muffled sob- she and Rune had been close. She could feel the rest of the Guild's eyes on her, hateful and disapproving. "Mercer..." Brynjolf said lowly to the Guildmaster. "I think the lass is well aware of how badly she botched this."

Svala nodded emphatically in agreement. "I'm sorry, Mercer, I am! I fucked up, I just thought- those bandits- they killed my family and-"

"We are your family now," Mercer growled at her. "And because of your irresponsibility and stupidity your family has now shrunk by one. From now on, you don't do any job without a partner. If I hear you've even breathed where you're not supposed to, I'll start taking fingers. Are we clear?"

"I'll keep an eye on her," Brynjolf said hastily after Mercer finished his tirade. "You can hold me accountable if she gets herself into any more trouble." Even as he vouched for her, she noticed, he would not look directly at her.

"Fine," Mercer bit through gritted teeth at him. "You'll get the same punishment as she'd get then if, no- when she botches another job."

The anger and shame ate away at her as she watched the Guildmaster leave the cistern. Obviously she hadn't wanted Rune to die- he was a friend to her at the very least, more of an older brother (not that she had much of a reference to compare him to). She tried to approach Brynjolf to tell him so, to try and explain, but he only held a hand up to her and said, "Sorry lass, I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time."

"Bryn please, I didn't know! Please believe me," she cried limping after him. Her hopes plummeted and her heart cracked- he'd never see her as anything other than a stupid kid now.

"Oh stop it lass," Brynjolf snapped at her the second they were alone in the archery room. He slammed the door behind her where it locked with a click. "Don't act like you didn't know the boy was sweet on you. Don't act like you didn't hear me say that you were too green for a job like this. You always think you know better, like you can handle everything on your own, but you can't. The sooner you accept it the sooner you'll stop getting everyone else hurt."

"It's all my fault," she whispered to Ralof (Rune??) in the cart behind her. "I saw men coming to help me and I waved them off. I thought I could handle them all on my own. And you were just trying to help...I'm so sorry."

Her vision grew darker, even in the morning sunshine, and the vague landscape of Whiterun around her was swirling and melting into blurry depictions of colors and shapes. It was everything she could do to hang onto her horse and keep pushing forward to the Temple of Kynareth. She could hear the shouts of the Stormcloak guards behind her, but she couldn't make her mouth respond. She was on fire, so hot and yet so oddly cold, and her mouth was so dreadfully dry that her tongue was limp flesh between her jaws.

"Svala," her head whirled around to see not only Ralof sitting up, but Rune as well. Their eyes were blank and dead as they stared at her and she gasped in horror as Brynjolf appeared too, followed by Ulfric. Blood dripped from their empty eyes and they reached out to her, their bodies melding together as her vision swam. "Svala...Dovahkiin," Brynjolf repeated in the deep, non human rumble of Alduin's voice. "When will you learn?"

Their hands covered her eyes and her mouth and she screamed and all went black.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Ulfric had been waiting for days on news from the Reach. Fort Sungard should have been under Stormcloak control, for all he knew, yet the lack of any concrete information only filled him with anxiety. Something was wrong.

"My Jarl!" A courier was approaching the throne, followed quickly by Jorleif. The steward trailed behind him, apparently unable to stop the man from delivering his message to anyone other than Ulfric himself. "Urgent news from Whiterun! Meant for your hands only."

"Give it here," he commanded, already sensing that this was not news he wanted. He quickly scanned over the letter:

Jarl Ulfric,

My Thane is here in Breezehome recovering from serious illness. She arrived in the city three days prior, transporting a soldier of yours with mortal wounds to the local priestess of Kynareth. Svala has not regained full consciousness yet and her fever can not be broken no matter what we do.

I am only writing to you because she has been asking for you. I do not know what your relationship with her is (nor do I want to) but I feel as though she would want you to know in case she is to journey to Sovngarde soon.

-Lydia, Housecarl of Breezehome

(Destroy this message.)

His fist crumpled around the parchment, feeling quite ill. She was dying. She was dying and he wasn't there. Why destroy the message? Was the messenger compromised? "How long," he bit at the courier through ground teeth. "Did you have this information for?"

"My Jarl?" The Breton asked anxiously. "I-I don't understand...I've ridden all night..."

"I have a proposition," the Jarl continued, already rising from his throne. She could already be dead because of this fool's slowness and he wasn't there. "If I can make it to Whiterun in 9 hours on my fastest horse, I will flog you for each hour you have wasted on your journey here."

"My Jarl, please!" The courier cried, nervously eyeing the guards that had silently taken place at his side. "There were reports of a dragon approaching, I needed to be careful!"

"Did you see this dragon?" The Breton licked his lips and shook his head, already opening his mouth to explain before Ulfric silenced him. "Then you truly are of no use to me. Lock him in the black cells- I will deal with him later."

"My Jarl!" Jorleif cried as he headed for Wuunferth's chambers. The mage was accompanying him to Whiterun, whether he wanted to or not. If he trusted anyone to heal Svala, it would be Wuunferth. "Please, I urge you to think things through. We have heard reports of dragons and Galmar himself is riding back today to-"

"Of course there are dragons! I am quite familiar with them!" Ulfric bellowed, his patience evaporating. "And the only one who can stop them, the Dovahkiin, might be dying as I waste my breath explaining my affairs to you!!"

Jorleif paled and bowed slightly, still continuing to speak but no longer meeting his eyes. "Of course, my Jarl, I understand how much yo-we care for Lady Svala but there has been word from the Reach that a dragon has taken out our camp there."

He paused, still seeing red and breathing heavily. She could be dead. Talos, was this what injured her? A dragon? "Survivors?"

"Galmar," Jorleif murmured. "Lady Svala, and Captain Ralof was also missing from the report. The rest of the men we had garrisoned at Fort Sungard are dead- dragon also laid waste to the fort."

He let out a roar and pounded his fist into the palace wall- there must've been some thu'um in his cry because his fist left a crack in the stone. Several guards even fled in alarm. Of course. The soldier Svala was bringing to Whiterun was Ralof, her lover. Perhaps the simpleton was even her husband. Grief, jealousy, anger, fear, and guilt warred within Ulfric as he attempted to clear his mind to plan is next move. Every bone in his body screamed for him to ride to Whiterun, but if there was a dragon loose in the Reach it could definitely mean a chance at the Imperials regaining control. Not to mention the state Galmar would be in...his friend was tough and an excellent warrior, that was true, but who among them (other than the Dragonborn) could face a dragon single-handedly and live? "What would you have me do?"

"You are Jarl," Jorleif responded uncomfortably. "I support whatever decision you make."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Wuunferth asked dryly, appearing on the stairs, apparently having heard the commotion. "Send me to Whiterun. I can tend to Lady Svala and you can remain here to receive Galmar."

"When is Galmar due to arrive?" Ulfric was already trying to calculate when the earliest he could leave was going to be. With every moment that passed he said another prayer to Talos that she was still alive.

"His bird got here in the night," Jorleif said. Ulfric frowned- if Galmar was using birds like they had done in the Great War, there was a chance the couriers were compromised. He was glad he had one in irons. "I'd say maybe...another 5 hours? If he does not stop."

"If Galmar has just faced a dragon, he will not stop." Ulfric snapped, turning back to Wuunferth. The old mage was watching him closely with a...smile? His temper flared once more. "Is any of this funny to you, Wuunferth?"

"Ulfric," Wuunferth said with a shake of his head, "a priestess of Kynareth is not necessarily the best healer. Besides, my apprentice has actually given me some insight into the lady's...origins. Because of her dragon blood, it is very possible that traditional healing potions and remedies may not work correctly. I know Sofie had given her some potions we had modified to include powdered dragon scales with her when she left, but knowing our mutual friend she gave them to Ralof. My point is, do not let emotion cloud your judgement. Your first duty is to the men and women fighting for you."

Damn it. Even if Ulfric had remained unconvinced at the start of the mage's speech, hearing mention of those fighting for him would always get him to yield. The sacrifice of those who pledged him their lives was always a humbling thing to behold. "I will wait for Galmar," he sighed deeply. "Wuunferth, take Sofie to Hjerim and insist that she is to stay there under Calder's protection until I return. Then leave for Whiterun. Tell her... I..." Jorleif and Wuunferth were watching him closely. It was unnerving and he didn't like it. "Wait for me there."

He spun on his heel and was already making his way to the cellars of the palace to train. He couldn't bear to see the knowing grin on Wuunferth's face or Jorleif's panicked hand wringing anymore. He would do his duty and he would wait for Galmar to arrive, but after that nothing would stop him from getting to Whiterun. His sword slashed the straw man so many times that he could feel bits of hay become tangled in his hair; still it was not enough. All Ulfric wanted was to have her lying next to him again, to know she was alive and well, to feel her essence drying on his cock. His lust for her was nearly driving him insane, as though he were led by a primal urge to claim her as his before she departed this world.

"Doesn't put up much of a fight, does he?" Galmar's gravelly voice came from behind him and Ulfric stilled. How long had he been down there for? "Jorleif told me you'd be here."

"How do you fare?" He was almost scared to see the state his general was in. "Dragons are nasty business." Slowly, Ulfric turned.

"Aye," there were large patches of blackened skin on Galmar's arms and legs, but other than superficial abrasions and a bruised eye the Nord seemed to be relatively unscathed. "Good thing it wasn't looking for me."

"Looking?" Ulfric narrowed his eyes at Galmar. "What do you mean? You cannot speak the dragon tongue."

"Thanks for reminding me," his friend said with a smirk. "I do remember, however, hearing stories of the dovahkiin while I was still on my mama's breast."

Dovahkiin. Ulfric's sword dropped from his fist and clattered to the ground. A dragon, looking for her? Now? "I must get to her, she is dying," he told Galmar in a rush, nearly sprinting back up to the main floor of the palace. Galmar hobbled behind at his heels, speaking equally as quickly back to him.

"Listen, damnit listen Ulfric! From what I heard from the men before that damn lizard came hunting, Ralof stepped in front of a blade for her and she just took off for Whiterun. I know you care for her but you don't know what state she's in! She could be putting you on so she can run off with Ralof if he pulls through! She could-"

"If she dies and I was here arguing with you I will follow her to Sovngarde myself if only to drag her back to the land of the living," Ulfric spat, feeling his iron clad composure slipping more and more by the moment. "You trust no one Galmar, which is normally something I appreciate as it has kept me alive. But I warn you, your influence will not stop me from following the will of the gods, whatever it may be." Svala's amulet of Mara dangled from his fist, swinging slightly in front of Galmar's shocked face. For a tense moment the two men stood there, studying each other silently.

"You're needed here," Galmar tried to reason once more with the Jarl. "You need to rally the men, make plans for a siege! What of Elisif's offer? Such a thing is too important to just ignore! And dragons?? Ulfric you're mad if you're going to ride alone to where a dragon is heading when the wench might not-"

Ulfric didn't hear the rest- the loud slam of the palace doors shutting behind him drowned out the rest of Galmar's argument.