A/N: Skyrim AU. Pugprincessrina on tumblr had posted an AU about Gajeel being in the Brotherhood, and Levy in the Thieves Guild, and how they could both meet on missions regularly and what would ensue. I had thought about making this into a multichapter thing, but for now it's just a one shot.

There it was. Like some great slumbering beast looming in the fog, the Katariah. His red eyes could barely make out her slight lulls to and fro, movement that was surprising given how peaceful the water was. In all, the dusk's scene was tranquil. Gajeel flexed his fingers, the light cloth of his black and red gloves straining ever so slightly. This is it. He thought, eyes narrowing, bringing a gentle gleam from the studs above his eyes.

Gajeel's sides expanded with the deep breath he took, and the hot air dampened his cowl, drifting off as mist in the frigid air. Truthfully, he wasn't looking forward to that plunge, but proceeded he did regardless, a specter on the shore.

A loud huff nearby made him pause, keen eyes swinging quickly to the source. Three lumbering figures had appeared from behind a small outcropping down the shore. By the laborious flop of their movements he was able to make out what they were quickly enough, and he relaxed. Though still grateful for instilling his habit of sneaking long before he really needed to. Horkers were no real danger but a pain to deal with. Persistent.

Gajeel refocused, crept forward and slipped into the cold water. For once in his life, the Redguard wished he had Nord blood. An indignant huff followed the thought and he shook his head. Focus.

After what felt like ages–cold, frigid ages–the ship finally towered over him, and through the fog he could see the sailors patrolling the deck. He was faced with the task of getting aboard, which was easy enough to figure. The massive chain for the anchor would make a perfect ladder to the opening in the hull just large enough to let him in.

Checking the deck once more to make certain he was hidden, he glided forward and took firm hold of the chain. It was slippery to some extent, but the barnacles and slight rust were enough to give him a good grip as he swiftly and easily pulled himself up and slid into the opening.

These crates are bloody stuffy. Why did I have to pick the one with all the darn cheese wheels. The petite woman, curled in the large crate wrinkled her nose. If she had the luxury, she would have groaned. But the not-quite-gentle heaving and jerking of her vessel indicated that she was not alone yet. "How much of this did he need this time? These are heavy as shit." A male voice complained.

"Shut up and pull your weight. The faster we get this into the hold the faster we can be done with this." Another voice snapped. Yes, please do hurry. I may not get seasick but this is a different experience entirely. The woman thought bitterly. She was going to smell like cheese for weeks and regardless if she pulled this off, the guild was never going to leave her alone about it.

Levy was finally shaken from her thoughts with a loud thud, and the crate hit the floor. She could hear hands smacking together, like brushing them off. A small rush of adrenaline built quickly within the thieve's chest, listening to their conversation trail off and the footsteps move farther away. When she could no longer hear anything, Levy waited a few more seconds for good measure, before pushing up the pre-loosened lid to her crate. It took everything to not gasp in the outside air as she hauled herself out and immediately dropped into a crouch.

The leather-clad woman was tiny, an absolute asset to her choice of career. A hood concealed most of her face, but rebellious cerulean locks peeked out from the edges. A glass bow and loaded quiver sat securely across her back, and with a narrowing of her honey eyes, the woman melted into the darkness.

Gajeel dropped himself to the floor silently, easing his large frame into a crouch. Inside he found himself behind a stack of crates, particularly useful since he wasn't alone. "…and thats the last one, alright enough of this." A man's tired voice barely heard above the groan of the ship. He waited, frozen, focusing on the soft thuds of his footsteps and the gentle creaks of them moving up the steps to leave the room.

He let out a slow breath, and reached to his side to brush his fingertips along the curved, woeful dagger to reaffirm it was still present. This done, he waited an extra moment, swearing up and down that he had felt another presence in the room with him. But he heard nothing, and after creeping around the crates to peek ahead, he stalked up the same path the sailors had taken moments prior. He pressed his weight agonizingly slow on each step, making certain to not make a sound, and slid around the corner only to freeze once more. Two of them, in the doorway of their sleeping quarters right in front of him. He knew they hadn't seen him, and the shadows still served. They were speaking with one another, a conversation he couldn't make out with the growls of the ship and the blood in his ears. Time to begin.

Muscles coiled, and like a wild cat he sprung forward, sticking to the shadowed side of the hall. His mouth twisted into a snarl, coming up on the first man and in a blur of motion dragged his dagger across the man's neck. His free hand gripped the front of his armor, and his attention turned to the sailor's comrade. The sailor had just turned, and Gajeel imagined he was in the process of opening his mouth before another swipe of the dagger silenced him. The assassin swiftly grabbed the front of his armor as well, and slowly lowered the two to the ground.

Gajeel's adrenaline was a high, an indescribable thrill that reminded him why he joined the Family to begin with. He had no time to revel though, sneaking a few septims from their pockets before sneaking down the hall. At the end, more bunks, and movement caught his eye. A sailor rising from his slumber, and inwardly he tsked. Had you stayed asleep you might have kept your life. He thought.

This time, a swift throw of the dagger would dispose of the man, and after quickly retrieving his weapon, Gajeel found himself approaching the mess hall. It was empty save for a Penitus Oculatus lingering by the counter near the back. The soldier was unsteady on his feet, clearly inept with this mode of travel.

All of these soldiers had that one sweet spot just beneath their helmet and above the chest plate. And like the predator he was, his eyes fixed there hungrily. Gajeel waited, patiently, for each time he turned away his attention, allowing the assassin to creep closer and closer around the hall.

Finally, he turned his back entirely, seemingly for the stairs on the opposite corner of the room, and Gajeel took his chance.

Honestly, this was easier than it should have been. From earlier surveys the ship looked like it would have been crawling with Penitus goons, but half the soldiers were asleep and the majority of the soldiers were above deck. Did they really not expect anything internally? This is the damned Emperor, and it's not like his voyage hasn't brought its own brand of attention. Levy thought to herself.

Slipping past sleeping quarters one after the other, and certainly not refraining from stopping for a few vulnerable pockets and pitifully locked chests. Just because her main mission was supposed to be that of greater value, didn't mean she couldn't get herself a little something extra along the way. Levy had sticky fingers, always had. And she couldn't resist the sight of a chest and the heavenly twinkle of septims in candle light. Had she the time, and the pack to carry it, she might have been inclined to swipe books as well. But everything the sailors read was either dull or already well-visited by the thief already. She wasn't missing much.

Her path eventually brought her to a large room, the mess hall judging by the tables and chairs. The pathway diverged to either side of the room, and down a floor below in the center was the actual mess hall itself. Directly across she picked up the movement of the first Penitus soldier she had seen inside. The woman knit her brows, looking beyond him to the heavy door atop a set of stairs. That must be it. Levy thought. But with the large man in her way, in such a large room, she elected to detour.

Levy's gaze went to either side of the room, and on both sides two corridors beckoned her. Left or right…which side were his quarters…The study was..on the left. His quarters are adjacent. I need to go there. Levy's eyes went to the corridor on the right, and with a look to the guard, she waited for him to turn.

A small chill startled her, creeping up her spine. Levy turned her eyes back, looking into the hall from where she had just come. It was quiet, just as she had left it. But something…something else pulled at her instincts. I don't like this feeling…I need to keep moving. She thought, looking forward to see that she had her opening, and she darted to the corridor off to the right.

The thief had, rightfully, spent a long time studying the ship's plans they had managed to acquire. A photographic memory came in handy if you had to know how to navigate the ship where you planned to steal from the emperor. Just a little.

And that photographic memory told her how to get back outside of the ship, and that the emperor's quarters had a Levy-sized porthole.

Up the stairs he went, to the door. He tried it carefully; locked. Perfect.

Voices somewhere behind him warranted a careful glance over his shoulder. Two more soldiers had entered, speaking loud enough to hear.

"Well, it's all over now. Lieutenant said you could see the smoke from Whiterun."

"Yeah I'm glad we can finally stand down–getting tired of looking over my shoulder all the time."

"Nothing to do now but sit back, relax, and enjoy the trip home."

With a new sense of urgency and an unwillingness to go back, he drew a lockpick, fiddling with the lock carefully. His irritation on his hard features was clear. This was not something he was keen to nor patient enough for. But it was necessary all the same.

Somewhere on the floor he heard a door open. The first lockpick broke and silent curses full his mind, and he produced another. The lock moved slightly, stopped, he readjusted, moved again, closer, footsteps across the room, lockpick broke, draw last one, gasp heard at the dead body and the sound of a drawn weapon, lock clicks.

He pushed open the door and closed it behind him quietly. He leaned against it and took a moment to breathe. I'm running out of time. Nearly there, nearly there.

One last bunk area, for all the soldiers likely. One was asleep that he could see. The slumbering man was easy, one doesn't wear a helm to bed. He waited, and nothing moved within the room. Gajeel considered for a fleeting moment letting them live. Just a moment. But he had a feeling that he might have something he needed.

He slipped into the room, and very quietly disposed of the man. No sooner had he begun to search the body than did he hear the clink of armor. Gajeel whirled just in time to see the Penitus Oculatus he hadn't been aware of winding up for a swing.

The assassin leapt backwards, lighter on his feet than one would expect, as the blade landed at the edge of the bed. Gajeel cursed harshly under his breath, and as the enemy lifted the blade to come back at him, the assassin readied himself. He jabbed, Gajeel spun outwards on the balls of his feet with his arms raised as the blade barely sliced his side, splitting the armor. Close.

Adjusting the grip on his dagger to face handle-first, the assassin wound and swung, aiming for the side of the soldier's head while he was still open. The metal kracked! against the helm which subsequently smacked the doorframe, stunning him just long enough for Gajeel to slip behind him, drop his dagger and take a firm hold of his head and twist. A gratifying snap vibrated against his palms and down he went.

Gajeel quickly realized he was taking too long, so he deftly checked the fallen's possessions and lo and behold, a key plus more septims. He grinned victoriously, grabbed his weapon, and slipped out of the room, finding he could go nowhere else but upstairs. Two doors, one leading back inward to the ship, the other out. He tried the inward door, it was locked. Always a good sign.

Gajeel applied the key, and it went in without resistance. In that second his rush surged through his body. He could feel it, this was it. With confidence, he pushed open the door and stepped inside ready to seal the contract.

"And once more I prove Commander Maro the fool." A strong voice came so suddenly that he thought he had come in on a conversation. But the grey-haired, fine dressed man behind the elegant desk was staring straight at Gajeel. The emperor, Titus Mede II himself. "I told him you can't stop the Dark Brotherhood, never could."

It was impossible to hide his surprise, even with the cowl, it was written clear as day in his red eyes. "I know you didn't come here to stand there gawking, come now. Don't be shy."

Gajeel took a step forward, tightening his grip on his dagger. He couldn't help himself. "You knew I was comin'." He rumbled, posing it as a statement rather than a question. The sound of his own voice was a bit of a shock. In this line of work one tended to spend most of their time in their own thoughts, speech wasn't an assassin's top trade.

"Of course." He answered matter of factly, like Gajeel had missed some obvious point. "You and I have a date with destiny. But…so it is with assassins and emperors, yes? I am already aware that I must die. But I wonder…would you grant an old man a few more words before the deed is done…?"

It took him a moment, still off guard. He had not expected to have a conversation with his target. But something in him, maybe that shred of mercy again, compelled him and he spoke before he realized what he was saying. "Speak, geezer."

The emperor went on to explain that the man who had posed the contract was a traitor, and that it was his dying wish that Gajeel kill the man who hired the assassin in the first place. This wasn't how these things were meant to go. You kill the target, you get the payment, you disappear back to the shadows. Kills free of pay or out of sentiment weren't in the tenets. But still, the fact this man could look his killer in the eye, fully accepting of death, and use his final words on a request there is no guarantee of being filled…that was something of admiration.

Gajeel had nothing to say to him, but gave him a small nod. The man dropped his regal facade and allowed his shoulders to slump with weariness. He smiled weakly, "Thank you." The emperor said with slightly less strength. "Now, get on with it." He turned, walked slowly to the window while purposefully directing his back to me. He crossed his arms behind his back and breathed deep.

Gajeel pulled back out the dagger. He shifted himself back into the mindset of the predator, closing the distance between them. Close, Titus didn't flinch or tense knowing Gajeel was there. He was fully calm. He couldn't drag this out longer. It was time. A swift slice, and it was over, down he went.

He stared at his body, wondering if he felt remorse. No…that wasn't it. He should have felt something. Something more dramatic. He'd just killed the emperor, not some under the rug money-lender. The damn emperor.

He may not have felt remorse, but something compelled him to take him under the armpits and drag him into the sleeping quarters.

Levy's hands were deep in the small strongbox by the emperor's bed, excitement coursing through her at the sight of the jewels and gem-studded jewelry. This would all fetch a beautiful price, not to mention the one or two she planned to keep for herself.

The thief couldn't help herself with the bookshelf, it wasn't surprising that he had an extremely impressive collection. There were books here that she had never seen before! Levy had to remind herself that the swim would ruin anything she could dream of taking. Focus Levy. You're here for the valuables and any septims you can swipe. She reminded herself.

It was that point that the woman realized how much the books had distracted her. Voices next door snapped her to attention, and she swiftly set back to work scouring the room. I need to get out of here fast. Levy thought. They seemed occupied enough, she had a few minutes at most.

She has expected a lot of things on this mission. And really it had all gone as she planned it. She had most of the valuables already and was almost ready to leave without a single detection.

What Levy hadn't expected was a massive, burly man to kick open the door to the bedroom, carrying a dead emperor. Her honey eyes went wide, hands deep in the dresser, fingers curled around another pendant. The man looked equally surprised to see her there, going stiff. The Brotherhood?!

The guild?!

Levy opened her mouth to say something, not really knowing why she was still glued there. Or why she said what she did next. "That's not supposed to happen." It was a statement. A chiding tone edged into it. What the hell. Her eyes went to the dead man in his grip and raised her brows. Ballsy. Even for the Brotherhood. She thought. That wasn't going to go well.

The man then arched a brow at the out of place statement, trying to see the tiny figure's face. Emphasis on tiny. They were a full two heads shorter than he was, at least. That voice was not what he had expected, either. It was soft, distinctly feminine, and it was clear that she was trying to be serious, but with a voice like that she couldn't if she tried. The candle light gave very little, and her hood didn't help. What he could see were strikingly blue locks peeking out from the hood. Blue…?

The initial shock wore off and as though remembering who he was, Gajeel dropped the body. She had seen him, corpse in tow, and this was not a mission that could have witnesses.

As soon as Levy realized he was freeing his hands, she stuffed what she could into her pockets and raced back towards the window she had come in from. This isn't good! Heavy footsteps quickly overtook her and terror shot through her body when she felt a grip on the back of her armor and a sudden yank backwards.

The whole room spun as he whirled her around, knocking her hood back, and she felt a cold line across her neck with the brute looming over her. Instantaneously, the large assassin now found a glass-tipped arrow drawn and pressed through his armor against the soft flesh under his chin, a space the short female had privileged access to. Fast! He thought, incredulously. No one had ever matched his speed before. No one.

Intense, narrowed eyes stared straight into his, waiting for one of them to break. If he killed her, he was at risk of her releasing the grip on her arrow. If she killed him–which she was REALLY hoping to avoid–he would surely jerk the blade into her throat. This is it. she thought. He had his dagger pressed to her throat and a death grip on the front of her tunic, she couldn't even try wiggling away from him. But the moment didn't come, and instead lingered heavy in the air once more. They were at an impasse.

Gajeel, on the other hand, felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. And not because of the sharp point on his throat. Her whole head was adorned by those striking blue curls, held in place by a brilliantly yellow scarf. Her eyes burned in the candle light, but there was a softness to her features that was foreign to shadow dwellers like himself. It was times like these that he was thankful for his cowl, as it hid the fact that his mouth had dropped open. He was, through and through, awed by the presence of such a pure creature in a place like this. And he had been ready to kill her as unceremoniously as the rest.

He was also, at this point, aware of the the fear on her face. Slowly, he released her tunic, earning a raised brow, and lowered the blade from her neck, trying not to startle the beasty with an arrow on him. He surprised himself, giving in first. She hasn't seen my face. He thought, trying to justify sparing her life. Had it been a common soldier, he would have gone down gnashing and fighting, red in tooth and claw. But here he was not only sparing her, but opening himself. Something in her face told him she wouldn't attack him, that it was solely out of defense.

He raised both hands up at his sides, staring at her from below his brow. Moments later, Levy lowered her bow and put away her arrow. She let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding, watching him with wary distrust.

"Get out." He growled, "before the guards find either one o' us." Gajeel warned. Levy was taken aback. This wasn't the MO for the Brotherhood. But she wasn't about to ask why he didn't kill her. With her free hand, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a silver, ruby-studded pendant. Without thinking, Levy tossed it to him and the man caught it midair.

"Thanks." She forced out. Quickly she whirled, flying for the window with even more determination than before, her fear in her throat. Another strangled "Thanks" left her lips as she slipped through the window and landed on the deck just outside. Not a single moment was wasted before she vaulted herself over the edge of the ship head first, diving gracefully into the icy water below.

Gajeel remained a moment longer, staring at the small space through which she disappeared. Why did I do that… He thought, narrowing his eyes. His free hand reached up to tug down his cowl, suddenly feeling a strong need for fresher air. What are the fuckin' chances, running into one of them this same night. This might…complicate things. He had let a witness go, on the highest profile mission he'd ever taken. And why?

Gajeel growled and looked to the pendant in his hand, not entirely fond of the emotions in his chest. This wasn't like him, and he didn't like it. Nor did he like spark of excitement upon coming to the conclusion that that was likely not going to be the last time he saw the thief.