Faranirr walked through the dwarven ruins alone. It'd been some time since he'd had to do so, and it irritated him to no end that he was wandering the creepy ruins without the Dragonborn. In fact, she was wandering the very same ruins with Mjoll. She hadn't even waited a day to replace him! He grumbled about it as he hopped over a raised trap plate. He knew from experience what to look for in a place like this, and the trap plates were obvious once the Dragonborn had pointed them out, telling him precisely how to find them. He wondered if she was extending the same courtesy to Mjoll.
He eventually found himself in the cavernous room that the artifact was in. The artifact itself was a spoon made out of Dwarven steel. Faranirr sighed, it did seem very in line with Maven's mindset to send a warrior into old ruins for the sole purpose of retrieving a spoon. He waited for several hours with no sign of the Dragonborn or Mjoll. Eventually, he took the artifact with a sigh and used the shortcut back to the main entrance of the ruins to leave. He stopped when he saw that Mjoll was in the doorway with a very irritated sounding Dragonborn crossing her arms in front of her.
"For the last time, Mjoll, move," She growled.
"What can I do for you, friend?" Mjoll asked.
With a growl of irritation, the Dragonborn took out her sword and stabbed Mjoll straight through the chest. Mjoll gave a groan of pain, and then didn't move at all. The Dragonborn kicked her corpse off of her blade and walked into the ruins, grumbling about doorways. She stopped when she saw Faranirr holding the artifact and said, "Faranirr. You're here."
Faranirr was mute with shock. He held up the artifact to her, careful to keep his mouth shut and not say a word. The Dragonborn took the spoon and said, "Thanks." She walked out of the ruin and left Faranirr, staring at Mjoll's body. He walked back to Riften in the same daze, the scene replaying over and over in his head. He'd watched the Dragonborn kill people for looking at her wrong, but he'd never watched her do it to someone she might've had an attachment to. It made him wonder, would she do it to him? If he messed up one day and ended up standing in front of a doorway that she happened to want to walk through, would she murder him as well?
He sat down at the bar table with Maven, who asked, "How did it go?"
"She stabbed Mjoll," Faranirr said dully.
"Perfect. Now you're free of any competition and I get my end of the deal. I would say it's been a pleasure doing business with you, but even I am not capable of lying that well."
With that, Maven got up and left Faranirr to go see the Jarl, probably to talk about some other illicit business dealing. Faranirr stared at the filthy table for a solid hour as he wondered, would the Dragonborn kill him with the same merciless regard? With the same lack of warning? At least it would be quick. He stood up and went to the Dragonborn's house. He wanted answers. He kicked open the front door to see the Dragonborn sitting by the fire, some kind of soup being prepared, with reading glasses perched on the bridge of her helmet as she stared at a bright purple book bearing the symbol of a Daedra.
She glanced at him and said, "There is a handle for a reason."
"Do not try to be cute with me after I witnessed you murder an innocent woman!" Faranirr said.
The Dragonborn marked her page with a dog ear- like a barbarian- and put the book down. She crossed her legs and asked, "What is the problem Faranirr? You never seem this tense when I kill other people."
"That is different! 'Other people' are bandits and thieves and ancient dragon priests!"
"Did you like Mjoll?" The Dragonborn asked.
"Divines, no! I'm glad she's dead!" Faranirr hissed.
"Then what is the problem?"
"You killed her!"
"Faranirr, I'm confused. Did you want to kill her?"
"No! Maybe! If she had attacked first!"
"So what is the issue?"
"You killed her for standing in your way! Nothing else!"
"Faranirr, you've watched me kill for less. And I waited several hours before doing it."
"That is not the point! If you were able to kill Mjoll with such ease, what is stopping you from killing me?!"
"Nothing," The Dragonborn said simply. Faranirr let his hands fall to his sides as he stared at the Dragonborn with his mouth wide open. She put a pinch of Void Salts into the cauldron before turning to Faranirr to add, "But I wouldn't kill you, Faranirr."
"That is only vaguely reassuring," Faranirr muttered as he collapsed into a chair with exhaustion.
"You don't understand, Faranirr, I wouldn't kill you because I like you," She said as she crouched in front of Faranirr to be close to eye level with him.
"And what if you stop 'liking me'?" Faranirr huffed.
The Dragonborn took a breath to say something when the cauldron that had previously been glowing an eerie green turned bright purple as orange smoke began to bubble over the edges. It shook violently, as if it were possessed. Or as though the Dragonborn had cooked in it, really, it could've gone either way. "Divines, damn it, move!" She ordered Faranirr. They got up and dived out of the house- the windows shattering with blasts of force that felt ancient. The beams of light that bled out of it were colored a mix of purples and oranges.
"What did you do?!" Faranirr asked.
"I may have accidentally freed Sheogorath in the process of trying to make a soup."
"How did you even manage that?!"
"Well, a merchant sold me a book that he said was written by the Gourmet that would enhance the taste. I see now I should have killed him. But he's long gone," She thought it over and said, "So I'll just kill the Gourmet."
"How about no killing?!"
"Faranirr, killing something solves most of your problems right away."
"Dragonborn, how about we try getting rid of the Mad God you've managed to unleash, and then talk about this Gourmet business?"
"Sounds perfect," The Dragonborn said as she drew her blades. There was a peal of demented laughter from the house as the door slammed open. Somehow, Faranirr wouldn't have had it any other way.