A/N: First off, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, favorited, and/or followed. The encouragement is greatly appreciated. This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones. I just couldn't break it up in a way that kept a good flow for the story.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think. And thanks for reading.

-Edward

It had taken some convincing, but Sable was back in Windhelm.

Brynjolf had seemed very suspicious of her refusing a job in order to pursue a "personal matter".

"What kind of personal matter, lass?" the red-haired Nord had questioned.

"That's the thing about personal matters, Brynjolf," she had retorted. "They're personal."

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow suspiciously. He was about to say something, but she cut him off. "I promise I won't be killing anyone. Does that help?"

It had seemed the relieve some of the suspicion he held, but still he questioned. "Are you freelancin', lass? You know the rules about guild members doing private jobs on the side."

"I'm attending my mother's funeral!" She had snapped. She had known that was not going to resolve anything. Brynjolf knew her background. He knew that her mother had died long before she had come to the guild. But, then he had surprised her.

"Alright, lass, I'll respect your privacy. Get back as soon as you can. There are jobs lined up for you."

She was grateful that he had let it drop. It was rather uncharacteristic of him. They had never really had a good relationship. It had been nice at first, but it didn't take him long to disagree with her methods. He just didn't see the same power in taking life that she did. That was always his problem. He was satisfied with just having wealth. He didn't see the big picture of power. Not only did she see it, she took the opportunity to exercise it. She supposed that's what bothered him about her. She had come to realize that the guild as a whole was weak due to lack of ambition to seize power. Even Mercer Frey. It seemed like he saw the big picture, but was too scared to try to wield it.

One day, she resolved, she would lead the guild and then they would discover a level of wealth and power that they hadn't dreamed of. All of Skyrim would fear the guild. The guild would hold real power over everyone.

Finally, the guard had moved along his route. Sable crept out of the shadow and picked the lock to the Aretino house. It didn't take her long to find the boy inside. He was overjoyed to see her again.

"Did you do it? Is Grelod … you know, dead?"

"She will never harm you or any other child again." Sable promised crouching to his level. "Now, about my payment …"

"I'm sorry. I have it in the other room. Wait here!" The boy dashed off into another room before she could finish. She wanted him to keep whatever the heirloom was. Hopefully it would be something the boy could look at and remember better times with his family. Worst case, he could sell it and use the money to support himself.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be an assassin. That way I can help lots of children, just like you." The boy emerged carrying a large silver plate that was finely decorated around the edges. Sable slumped a bit. The plate was moderately valuable. Not the treasure he thought it was though. Still she urged him to keep it.

"It's okay, young man, you can keep it. This job wasn't that hard anyway." She tried.

"No! You must take it!" he cried. "We had a contract. I don't want the assassins to come after me if you don't take it. You must take it! Besides, I would gladly pay much more than this to be rid of that monster, Grelod, if I had anymore to give. Please take it."

"Okay, okay. I'll take it." Sable gave in. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I don't think I should stay here." He thought for a moment. "Constance was always nice to me. I think I'll go back to the orphanage in a while. I'll give them time to, you know … clean up the mess."

"I see. Be careful, okay."

The boy gave her a funny look. "I made the trip once and it wasn't so hard. I can do it again."

"Of course." She confirmed. "With the contract fulfilled, I'll take my leave."

Outside, the sun was just beginning to dawn over the horizon. Sable made straight for Niranye's stall. She figured there was one last thing she could do for the Aretino boy.

Niranye was just opening as Sable approached.

"Greetings Niranye." She said as she approached. Niranye recognized her leather armor affiliating her with the thieves guild immediately.

"What service can I provide for the guild this morning?" She asked.

"What will you give me for this?" Sable set the ornate silver plate on the altmer's table.

Niranye looked it over for a moment. "It's a decent piece if a bit unremarkable. For the guild, I'll go as high as 75 septims, though it's probably only worth about 67."

"Would that be enough for me to secure a person protected travel to Riften?" Sable asked.

"Is this for you?"

Sable shook her head. "And they need to be unaware that protection is being provided."

The high elf frowned. "What you're asking for is worth much more than what you're offering."

"How much?" the white-haired thief asked.

"Probably 100 septims. Maybe a bit more."

"Will this cover the rest?" Sable asked reaching into a pocket and pulling from it the gold chain she had taken from Niranye's stall about a week and half earlier. Niranye recognized it instantly. Her face flushed with anger, but changed to amusement a moment later.

"Well, you've got some guts, don't you." She smirked. "But yes, that will cover it. I'll make the arrangements, but I'm considering this a personal favor to you. I will call it to be re-paid at some point."

"Done."

"Good. Tell me who are we looking after?"

"The Aretino boy." Sable replied. The look on Niranye's face showed the deal was becoming rather tenuous.

"What business do you have with that boy?" the high elf asked incredulously. "That one is said to have been messing around with some dark dealings." She emphasized the word "dark" in order to convey exactly what she thought those dealings to be.

Sable reached into another pocket and slapped a gold and diamond ring down on the table. She had acquired from some noble visiting Riften. "If it's all the same," she leaned in and spoke quietly, "that business is my own and I would appreciate that all this be kept very quiet and without any further questions."

"Fine," Niranye bristled. "I'll make the arrangements, but I don't want this plate. I'll have nothing connecting me to whatever that boy was into. Are we clear on that?"

Sable retrieved the Aretino artifact. "Crystal."

The curvy thief turned, and made for Windhelm's gate.

A few days later, Sable had found herself in Whiterun. This job was indirectly connected to Maven Black-Briar, so she had been sent due to her past work for the unofficial matron of the guild. Mallus Maccius ran the meadery just outside of the city as an extension to Black-Briar's front business. One of the mead vats had broken and new parts were required to get it operational again. Rather than pay for the fabrication of new ones via a blacksmith, Mallus had commissioned the thieves guild to acquire them. Keeping the repair "in house" proved quite cost-effective for him, which in turn, kept Maven happy.

Sable had stolen the pieces needed from a nearby ale brewery that used the same type of vats by "borrowing" another worker's uniform and looking like a regular employee. She returned the uniform to the still unconscious worker right in the same alley where she had left him and was on her way to the meadery when a courier came running up.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a message for you. Let me find it here." He rummaged in a bag and then produced a folded piece of paper. "Here we go."

"Who's it from?" Sable questioned.

"I didn't get a name. Some rather creepy looking guy in a black robe. He paid lots of money, so I wasn't about to ask questions. Said to make sure I delivered this to your hands only." He waited a moment before deciding their conversation was over. "Well, that's it. Got to go."

With that he turned and headed off in the other direction. Sable opened the note and felt the color drain from her face. The note was blank except for the depiction of a hand print in black ink and only two words scrawled across the bottom. "We know."

It was taking much longer than expected to deliver the vat parts to Mallus. He insisted on replacing them on the vats and making sure they worked before letting her go. It didn't help that he barely knew what was he was doing. Mallus had inherited the meadery from Maven Black-Briar after helping the city guard "discover" the previous owner was running it under extremely unsanitary conditions. Sable was forced to stand there and watch as the Imperial fumbled to get the parts changed out and declare the job a success. It left her to wonder about the note she had received. While she wasn't sure, she was betting the note was from someone within the Dark Brotherhood. How could they have possibly known? Had she been careless and someone seen her? The murder of Grelod the Kind had caused quite a stir in Riften, but last she heard, they still had no idea who the killer was and the guard had officially attributed the murder to the assassins guild. By the Eight Divines, how could they possibly know? More importantly, were they going to exact some kind of revenge?

"Okay, looks like it's in working order. Here's the pay for the both you and the guild. You can leave now."

Mallus was the type of person that Sable normally might kill just so the world wouldn't have to deal with him any longer, but since he was in charge of the operation in Whiterun, she resisted the urge. It wouldn't do to anger Maven Black-Briar. Not even thieves were outside of her wrath. She took the offered coin purse and left.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. How long had she been in there? The growing darkness quickly set her in a foul mood. She could have been on her way back to Riften by now, but since she hadn't slept the night before, choosing to push through to Whiterun and try to get the job over with, she was quite tired. She decided it best to rent a room at an inn and set off tomorrow.

She rented the cheapest room at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. It was a loft overlooking the common bar area of the inn and contained only a small square table and a bed. Sable fell into the bed without bothering to undress. She was exhausted and was hoping wake up to find the note from the Dark Brotherhood to be nothing more than a figment of some bothersome dream.

Sable woke with blurred vision and disorientation. She knew enough that she was no longer in the Bannered Mare. As her vision started to clear, she took in more detail. She was in some kind of shack. It was lit by a small fire in the pit in the middle of the one roomed structure. Finally her vision cleared enough to see another person.

She was sitting across from Sable on the top of a set of book shelves with her left leg casually hanging off the front. She was covered head to toe in black and dark red leather armor. The only part of her that was visible was a gap in her mask revealing her brow and hazel eyes.

"Sleep well?" He voice was like silk.

"What? Where am I? Who are you?" For some reason she wasn't sure of yet, Sable was more intrigued than frightened.

"Does it matter?" the stranger asked. "You're warm, dry … and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmmm?"

"You know about that?" Sable questioned. She was incredulous that anyone knew that she had done it.

"Half of Skyrim knows," came the amused reply. "Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around." Sable's heart leapt into her throat. Sure, the murder would be a popular conversation topic for a while, but no one had known it was her. She had killed a lot of people, but this was the first time that anyone outside of the thieves guild had known about it.

"Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot." She continued, apparently not understanding Sable's look of puzzlement.

"Ah, but there is a slight … problem." Her silken voice took on a slight hint of menace. "You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill … that you stole. A kill you must repay."

"What do you mean a kill I must repay?" Sable crossed her arms over her chest. While to most, it would seem a posture of indifference or consternation, the reality was that doing so readied her to pull her daggers very quickly.

"Well now. Funny you should ask. If you turn about you'll notice my guests. I've collected them from … well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But … which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe … and admire."

Sable turned and saw three other captives bound and hooded across the room. There was a man, a woman, and a Khajiit. Determined to get it all over with, she crossed the room and attempted to question the prisoners.

The man revealed himself to be a mercenary but claimed no knowledge of someone wanting him dead. He did, however, postulate that perhaps there was any number of people that might hold a grudge again him. He was a sell-sword after all. Sable, not convinced, drew her dagger and touched his arm with the cold blade.

"Alright, alright! Maybe there were … times I got carried away? But war is war."

There it was. Some kind of brutality he had perpetrated and was apparently remorseful about. Perhaps he was the one.

Sable went to the woman next. She was aged, though not as old as Grelod was. She was also quite crass and abrasive, demanding to be set free. She, apparently, thought highly of herself as well. When the old woman revealed that perhaps she was rather tough on her many children Sable thought of Grelod. With the beating she had witnessed still somewhat fresh, she could feel herself flushing with the heat of anger.

"Do some people look down on me? Have I made some enemies? You're damn right. And you can be yet another if you don't let me go this instant!"

The threats and demands went on and on. Sable was more than ready to make this self-righteous hag eternally silent, but since she was being tested to find which one had a contract out on them, she decided to question the cat, just to be thorough.

The Khajiit seemed to be the only one of the three not alarmed or stressed by his situation, casually mentioning that this wasn't the first time he had been "bagged and dragged."

"Do anything that someone might want to have you killed for?" she asked him.

"Of course," he boasted. "I am Vasha, obtainer of goods, taker of lives, defiler of daughters. If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult."

Perfect, the thief thought, each one of them would seem to have good reason to have someone wanting them dead. How was she supposed to decide? What would happen if she chose incorrectly? The other captives, apparently taking her indecision and quiet as an indication of their eminent death, began to plea their innocence to her. Well two of them pleaded. The cat simply laughed and asked if they could get it over with so he could go on about his business. The others kept begging louder and louder, trying to be heard over the other.

The clamor rose to the point that Sable was having trouble trying to think through the decision. The frustration at her inability to reason out which one had the hit put on them soon grew to anger. The racket fueled it until, overwhelmed with inward frustration, she acted.

Without saying a word, the white-haired Nord angrily stomped over to the mercenary and slit his throat. The others heard the gargling then the thump of his lifeless body as it hit the floor and began to offer her thanks and gratitude for making the correct choice. But they were premature. She next calmly walked to the woman and with saying a word, slashed her throat as well. Another step later, her knife flashed across Vasha's neck.

After the third body fell to the floor, Sable crossed the room back to her captor, determined to walk out of the room alive, whatever it took. The black and red clad woman hopped down from her perch atop the book case.

"Well, well. Aren't we the overachiever." She greeted her with her silken voice and a look of amusement in her beautiful hazel eyes. "Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances."

Sable just stood there wondering if she had gained her approval, or if she had again over-stepped her bounds and would have to kill a fourth this day. She said nothing.

After waiting a moment and getting no response, the assassin spoke again. "I would like to officially extend you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: 'Silence, my brother.' Then you're in. And your new life begins. I'll see you at home."

With that, her captor turned and left the shack.