I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

So, now we're sort of out of the backstory part, and it's stepping over into the current game situation.

Literally. This chapter is the start of the video game from Ziris's perspective, plus the repercussions.

Enjoy!

Reviewer Responses (There's a lot of them, this week! Hurray!):

Lydia: Brynjolf probably knew he was going to be picked to be second-in-command, and didn't want to be close enough to Ziris that she could easily punch him in the face. Hopefully, they can sort things out. Enjoy!

Nina: I'm going to respond to your review on Chapter 6 here, even though Chapter 7 was already posted. I'm glad you thought it was good, and thank you! I hope you enjoy these next ones, too!

Manu: Thank you! I appreciate that. And, hey, if Brynjolf and Ziris are meant to be, then they will be. You'll just have to wait and see what's in store for the two of them, I guess.

Mia78: I was trying very hard to uncapitalize the 'm' so that it would actually match your name, but my keyboard wouldn't let me. I'm sorry! Anyhow, thank you very much! I don't plan on stopping, mostly because I already have the Fiction completed, and there'd be no point. Stick around, if you like. I enjoy hearing from you.

Guest: Thank you, anonymous friend! I hope you're around to see this update, too!

Chapter 8: Bound and Unbound

Ziris's head was aching when she finally opened her eyes. Her immediate response was to try and pull a weapon from its scabbard, but she couldn't move her hands. Instead, she could only sit, helpless, as the carriage she was tied up in the back of moved along down the forest road at a slow, slow pace.

Across from her was a young Imperial man with dark hair, who was also tied up. He was wearing a strange combination of steel and leather armor, and he blinked green eyes at her when he saw she was awake.

"Were you partying with the mages, too?" he asked quietly, and Ziris frowned at him in confusion.

"No, I was stealing a horse," she said, and the man let out a breath through his nose.

"Better than me, I guess," he said. "I'm a murderer."

"Lovely," Ziris replied, glancing around again. Forest road, carriages, Imperial soldier driver, more carriages ahead of and behind them. Definitely a caravan. Of… prisoners?

"I don't imagine they'll kill you for stealing a horse," the man said to her. "Me, though? And the others? We're all going to lose our heads."

Ziris swallowed, and she had a sudden urge to reach up and grab her neck. She couldn't, however, because her wrists were bound.

"Where are they taking us?" she asked, and then man shook his head.

"Don't know. I woke up a few minutes ago." He nodded towards the carriage behind their own. "Stormcloaks. Something tells me we were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's been happening to me a lot lately," Ziris mumbled under her breath.

"The name's Hainin Marshal," the man said to her.

"Ziris," she answered, struggling to turn and see the bounds on her wrists. If it was rope, she had a better chance of getting free.

"What were you doing, stealing a horse?"

"What were you doing, killing a mage?" Ziris retorted.

"No need to get defensive," Hainin said, frowning at her. "We're all prisoners here."

"Shut up back there," the soldier driving their carriage ordered.

Ziris glanced up, and saw that they were about to pass through the gates of a city. She frowned when she saw the Imperials dotting the place, including the one on the guard bridge above them as they went through the gate.

An Imperial dressed in fancier armor sat on horseback a few feet away, speaking to an Altmer on a horse of her own. Ziris recognized the robes the Altmer wore as robes of the Thalmor.

Great.

Their carriage came to a halt beside two others, and one more followed after theirs. Ziris saw that they had stopped in front of a tower, and she saw the headsman block waiting for them. It looked like none of the prisoners were leaving with their heads.

Wonderful.

Hainin sniffed. "Sorry," he said to her. "I didn't know the Imperials were doing genocide today."

Ziris glared at him as their driver hopped down from his seat and walked around to the back of the carriage. "Out, both of you," he said to them, gesturing with his head.

Hainin stood first, and hopped out of the carriage ahead of her. Ziris followed more slowly, wary. She needed to figure out a way to make it through this without losing her head. Mercer would have it on his own, once she did.

Hainin and Ziris were shoved away from their carriage and towards the next one over. Hainin seemed to be impressed by the prisoners on that one, or, at least, by one of the prisoners.

"They captured Ulfric Stormcloak," he said, watching as a burly Nord in a fur cloak was marched past them.

Ziris didn't care who they had captured. She wanted to get un-captured.

She and Hainin were pushed along, and brought to a halt beside a young woman with golden hair, who glanced over at them in worry before facing the Nord Imperial soldier ahead of them.

"These three aren't on the list, captain," he said to the woman beside him.

"So take their names and and send them to the block," she barked, and stalked off to join a few of the other soldiers.

The Nord exhaled through his nose, and turned to Hainin. "Your name, please."

"Why? Do you plan on giving us headstones?" Hainin inquired sweetly.

"His name is Hainin Marshal," Ziris said before the Nord could speak. He looked at her, and she sighed. "I'm Ziris Coldwater."

"Right," the Nord said, making a mark on his parchment. He turned to the last of the prisoners, the young woman. "Who are you?"

"Cry Silverworthy," she murmured, and the Nord marked down her name as well.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman," he said to her.

"I've realized," she agreed quietly.

The Nord glanced between the three of them, and then gestured towards the line of Stormcloaks near the headsman's block.

"I'm sorry about all this," he told them. "Truly, I am. You were all in the wrong place at the wrong time."

None of them responded, although Hainin looked like he wanted too. Instead, the young Imperial turned and marched off towards the line of Stormcloaks, with Ziris and Cry behind him.

Once again, Ziris looked around for something, anything that would aid her escape. She was remembering one of Mercer's first lessons, after she'd been caught stealing in the Marketplace, and almost take to Mistveil Keep's prison: "Even when you think there's nothing to help you out of a situation, there's always something. Remember that, and you won't get caught like a skeever in a trap next time, and I won't have to bail you out."

Well, Mercer. I'm a skeever, and that block is my trap, she thought to herself. Where's my something?

Silence fell over the group, and then the Imperial that Ziris had noticed on horseback with the Thalmor walked up to the man that Hainin had referred to as Ulfric Stormcloak, head of the idiotic war that Skyrim was locked in.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero."

Oh, so we're in Helgen.

"But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne," the Imperial went on.

Stormcloak, who had a rag tied over his mouth, merely grunted in response.

"You started this war!" the Imperial exclaimed. "Plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now I'm going to put you down, and restore the peace."

This guy must be a general.

Before he could say anything more, a strange noise echoed around them, bouncing off the Throat of the World, and another smaller mountain on the other side of the city.

"What was that?" the Nord who had taken their names asked.

The general shook his head. "It was nothing." He turned to the captain who'd been standing with the Nord. "Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" she replied, a little too exuberantly. She looked at the priestess who was standing beside her. "Give them their last rights," she ordered.

The priestess raised her arms. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the a Eight Divines upon you -"

"For the love of Talos…" A red haired Stormcloak stalked forward. "Shut up, and let's get this over with."

The priestess frowned at him, and the captain shook her head. "As you wish."

The Stormcloak walked up to the headsman's block. "Come on, I haven't got all morning," he said shortly.

The captain pushed him down to a crouch in front of it, and used her boot to kick his neck onto the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" the Stormcloak asked.

The headsman, who was dressed in dark clothing and a black hood, raised his two-handed axe and brought it down heavily onto the Stormcloak's neck. Ziris flinched as head separated from body, and fell heavily into the basket made solely for that purpose.

"Ooh, gruesome," Hainin said from beside her.

"As fearless in death, as he was in life," a blond Stormcloak murmured from the other side of Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Next, the Imperial in the mismatched armor!" the captain said, pointing to Hainin.

The sound came again, this time louder, and more clearly. It sounded like a… bear roar, almost, but Ziris knew it couldn't be.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" the Nord Imperial asked, looking at General Tullius.

"I said, next prisoner!" the captain growled, turning her glare to Hainin.

He seemed taken aback. "What? Me? Why not one of these Stormcloaks, or her?"

Ziris shot him a glare as he nudged her forward with his shoulder. "Bastard," she grumbled. "I don't want to die today, either." She gestured with her head towards Hainin. "He's the murderer."

"Hey!" Hainin exclaimed. "It was an act of defense!"

"Sure it was," Ziris responded, rolling her eyes.

"Listen, lady -"

"For the love of the Gods, I'll go next," the young Nord woman, Cry, exclaimed, walking forward to the block. Hainin and Ziris exchanged a surprised glance as she lowered herself to her knees, and placed her neck on the block. "Make it quick, okay?" she asked the headsman.

The big man was getting ready with his axe, when the sound came again, very clearly a roar this time. Ziris saw it fly over the mountains, but she wasn't positive she'd actually seen anything until the Nord exclaimed: "What in Oblivion is that?"

"Sentries, what do you see?" the captain called.

"It's in the clouds!" someone shouted back.

The ground shook, then, however, and the beast that Ziris had seen fly out from over the mountain landed on top of the tower.

"By the Gods," she whispered, gazing up at it.

"Dragon!" the priestess shrieked.

The black-scaled dragon with piercing red eyes let out a roar, which knocked the headsman over entirely. Panic broke out around the courtyard where the executions were taking place.

Ziris decided to take this dragon appearance as her something.

Without looking back, she sprinted away in the direction their carriages had come from, hoping she would find the city gates. Instead, she found only smoke. The dragon had begun its attack.

Coughing, and blinking her streaming eyes, Ziris struggled to see through the thick smoke. She could hear screams, as well as orders being shouted to protect the townsfolk. She imagined that she and the other prisoners had already been forgotten about.

"Ziris!" She blinked and turned when she heard her name being called. Through the smoke, she spotted Hainin, waving his hand at her. She hurried towards him, a spur of the moment decision, and was grateful she had when he pointed to a hole in the city wall. "We can get out through there!" he said, and then covered his mouth and nose with his hand. Ziris didn't know how he'd gotten his bindings undone, but she decided it wasn't important.

Instead, she ducked and hurried towards the hole, dodging a burning bale of hay, and a body as she did so. She could feel Hainin right on her heels, panting heavily.

Ziris dropped into a roll and sailed through the hole ahead of him, coming out into the clear air on the other side of the city. Hainin followed a moment later, and the two quickly ran away from the burning city, leaving behind the screaming Imperials, Stormcloaks, and citizens.

When they were far enough up the path where they could no longer hear the screams, but could hear the dragon and see the smoke, they stopped.

Ziris's lungs were on fire, and she bent over, trying to regulate her breathing. She looked over at Hainin, and saw he was covered in soot, and there was a burn mark on one of his shoulders. Still, they were alive, and that was what mattered.

"Thank you," she said through her heavy breaths. "I don't think I would have made it out of there, had you not called to me."

"Don't think twice about it," Hainin answered. He straightened, and inhaled deeply. "I figured I needed to do my good deed for the month." He grinned at her. "You want help out of those?"

Ziris nodded, and turned around to let him reach her bindings. Hainin easily undid them, and Ziris brought her wrists around to her front and rubbed them. "Thanks."

"No problem," Hainin said. He glanced around. "Where do you come from?"

"Riften, and the Thieves Guild," Ziris replied, glancing at him.

"Riften, huh?" Hainin considered it for a moment. "You mind, then, if I travel with you? Riften's better than Whiterun for me, at the moment."

Ziris was prepared to decline, but then she heard the roar of the dragon, and she decided that maybe traveling alone with a dragon on the loose wasn't the best choice.

So, she nodded. "Yeah, that's fine." She looked around. "They took my weapons. Dammit."

"What are you? Swordsman? Bowman? I guess its swords-woman or bow-woman," Hainin said, grinning.

Ziris shook her head. "I'm pretty good with a bow, but my real talents lie in dual-wielding." She turned and started down the road, hoping they would find a sign somewhere down the way that would point them in the right direction.

"Ooh, so you're pretty deadly, for a thief," Hainin commented, jogging to catch up with her.

"I suppose I am," Ziris agreed, glancing at him. "So don't make me angry." Hainin held up his hands, and faced forward again. "What do you do?"

"Nothing," Hainin admitted, "and that's the truth of it. I'm an Imperial, but Skyrim is my home. It hasn't been very kind to me, though."

"I've had my own problems," Ziris told him. She smiled to herself, and glanced at Hainin. "You just have to find someplace where you belong, and everything works out in the end."

"You sound sure about that," Hainin commented.

"It's because I am," Ziris informed him. "Come on. Maybe we'll get over the border by nightfall, if we move quickly enough."

They picked up their paces, as she suggested. To avoid the snowy mountain passes, they took the northern road. It was a longer journey, but they didn't have the resources to survive a trek through the mountains.

They crossed into the Rift just as night was falling, and Ziris suggested they keep going until they reached Ivarstead, which was the closest settlement to where they were. Hainin agreed, and they continued walking.

Ivarstead glowed in the distance as the moons started to rise, and Ziris glanced upwards. The sky was beautiful, one of her favorite things about traveling at night. If she wasn't so exhausted, she would have just kept going.

When they reached Ivarstead, the two headed right for the Vilemyr Inn, and walked in. Wilhelm, the innkeeper, was standing behind the bar, looking ready for bed. He looked up when Ziris and Hainin walked in, however, and sighed.

"Need a room, then?" he asked Ziris, who had stayed at the inn more than once.

"Please," Ziris replied, tossing a coin purse onto the bar. "We've had a long day." Wilhelm hefted the purse, and nodded towards the room with two beds. Ziris nodded gratefully to him, and waved her hand for Hainin to follow her.

The two crept into the room, claimed a bed, and were fast asleep before one or the other could say good night.

When Ziris woke up, she found the other bed in the bedroom vacant, which made her very angry. How dare he leave without repaying her for the room?

After she'd thought about it, however, she realized that she owed Hainin her life. An unpaid half for a room at the inn didn't seem like an appropriate repayment, but it was what he'd chosen.

She sighed to herself before shuffling into her boots, and then into the main room of the inn. Wilhelm offered her free breakfast, and Ziris took it without arguing.

When she was finished with her eggs and fried ham, she thanked Wilhelm, and ducked out of the inn onto the road that would take her to Riften.

She was already doing her best to explain herself to Mercer in her head. She was struggling to come up with something he'd believe. She knew that she needed something, although she didn't know how forgiving Mercer would be. She was a senior thief, and getting caught in the way she had was stupid, and showed sloppiness. Stealing a horse? Really?

Mercer was going to be furious.

When she reached Riften two hours later, she was almost afraid to go down to the cistern. So, she was grateful for the distraction she found waiting for her as soon as she walked into the city.

Sapphire had cornered a Redguard on the bridge, and was yelling at him about something as Ziris approached.

"I'm really getting tired of your excuses," she was saying. "When you borrowed the money, you said you'd pay me back on time and for double the usual fee."

"I know I did," the Reguard, whom Ziris recognized as a worker at the Riften Stables named Shadr, replied. "How was I supposed to know the ship would get robbed?"

"Next time, keep your plans quieter, and nothing would have happen to it," Sapphire informed him.

The Redguard gaped at her. "What? Are you telling me you robbed it?" It certainly sounded that way to Ziris. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Look, Shadr. Last warning. Pay up or else. All I care about is the gold. The rest is your problem." Sapphire glanced at Ziris as she walked closer, but before she could speak, the young Nord turned and headed for the Bee and Barb.

Ziris sighed to herself, and walked over to Shadr instead. "Hi," she greeted. "You work at the stables, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yes," Shadr replied, looking up at her in confusion. "Hofgrir took me in when I arrived in Riften about a year ago. Taught me everything he knows. Horses are my life. Back in Hammerfell, I helped my family raise horses at our farm." He glanced down again. "I hope to open my own stables someday, but I think it's going to take a lot longer than I expected."

Ziris nodded towards the inn. "I overheard your conversation. Seems like you're in trouble."

Shadr nodded helplessly. "I owe her a great deal of money, and I think she cheated me. I don't know what to do."

"Tell me the details," Ziris suggested, crossing her arms. She decided that dealing with this problem would be easier than going to the cistern. After all, she was already off schedule. What was the point anymore, other than her inevitable scolding and possible maiming?

"I was able to work out a deal with the stables in Whiterun to sell me some of their tack and harnesses," Shadr explained. "I borrowed some gold from Sapphire for the shipment, but it got robbed before it even arrived."

Ziris rolled her eyes. So that was the 'job' Sapphire had been away on for almost a week.

"Now, she wants her money back, and if I don't pay her, I think she's going to kill me," Shadr concluded.

"Well, I can promise you that won't be happening. I'll go talk to her, see if I can clear things up," Ziris told him.

"Oh, thank you," Shadr said in relief.

Ziris walked away from him and into the Bee and Barb. Sapphire was leaning against the wall beside the door, and she glared at Ziris as she entered.

"Want to tell me about it?" Ziris inquired, leaning beside her.

"It's simple," Sapphire began. "I lent him some gold, he promised to pay me back, and now he says he's broke. End of story."

"No, it's not, because we both know that you're the reason he's broke," Ziris replied. "Forget about the debt, Sapphire, or Mercer will hear about you causing problems from me."

Sapphire's attention snapped to her. "You wouldn't."

"Is that something you'd bet on?"

The younger thief glanced around the inn for a moment before snorting. "Fine, I guess I made enough off the shipment anyway. I have better uses of my time than threatening stable hands." She rolled her eyes. "Tell Shadr he doesn't owe me anything."

Ziris smiled pleasantly. "Good girl. I'll see you down in the cistern."

Sapphire glared at her as Ziris strolled back out of the Bee and Barb and towards where Shadr still sat on the bench on the bridge.

"Well?" he asked nervously.

"The debt's forgotten. Everything's been cleared up," Ziris said to him.

"By the Eight! You talked her into it?" Ziris nodded, and the stable hand grinned. "I don't know what to say. I didn't think anyone in Riften cared what happened to me. Thank you." He reached into the bag sitting beside him on the bench and handed her the white potion he pulled out of it. "I've been saving this. I thought I might need it if Sapphire came for me, but I guess I don't anymore. You can have it."

"Thank you, Shadr," Ziris said, sliding the potion of invisibility into one of her pouches. "Don't borrow anymore money from thieves, all right?"

Shadr chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

Ziris nodded, and walked away from him. She headed for the Temple of Mara, passing by the busy marketplace as she did so. When she saw just how busy it was, it made her think, and come to a pause. Maybe if she brought something extra to Mercer, he'd be more forgiving.

As smoothly as she could, she ducked behind a pile of boxes and sank into a crouch. Knowing the Riften marketplace, and all the best shadows at that time a day, and seeing how busy it was, was going to make stealing something a snatch.

Ziris crept around the edge of the marketplace, darting from shadow to shadow, until she ended up behind Grelka's stall. The woman was busy auctioning off a pricey steel dagger that she claimed to have been forged in the SkyForge itself, and so she didn't notice as Ziris undid the lock on the stall's inner door, grabbed for the shiny Dwarven sword she spotted inside, slid the door closed, and stepped away from the stall into the shadows once more.

When she was out of the sight line of prying gazes, Ziris looked down at her prize. Mercer had been complaining about his blade getting dull. He should appreciate a new one enough not to cut her hand off.

She slid the sword through her belt and rose to her feet. As she continued on her way to the secret entrance, she listened with a small smile to the sounds of Grelka discovered her missing weapon.

Ziris ducked into the hidden entrance to the cistern and shuffled her way down the ladder. When she hit the bottom, she heard laughter coming from her fellow thieves, and she smiled to herself at the sound. She was very happy her head was not lying in a basket in Helgen.

She walked away from the ladder and found Thrynn, Vipir and Niruin all sitting at the wooden table near the fire pit.

"Hey, Z!" Thrynn greeted, waving her over. She spared a glance towards Mercer's desk, saw no one there, and let out a relieved breath before going over to the three men.

Thrynn pulled her down onto the bench beside her. "Where've you been?" he asked, swinging a protective arm around her shoulders.

"In Helgen, almost getting my head first chopped off, and then chomped off. By a dragon," Ziris answered plainly. "How was your week?"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a second," Vipir said, holding up his hands. "Did you say 'dragon'?"

"Yes, and before you say I'm crazy, it attacked Helgen while the Imperials were executing a group of Stormcloaks that included Ulfric Stormcloak," Ziris told them all. "So, I know there are other sources you can talk to about this."

Almost immediately, the three started throwing questions at her, and Ziris struggled to answer them all, even though she'd just watched Mercer walk into the cistern from the Flagon.

"Yes, it was big and scaly and black, and had glowing red eyes, and it Shouted the headsman over," she said quickly, ducking her head as Mercer walked past towards his desk. He'd already noticed her, however, and given her that signature 'You better have a damned good explanation' glare.

"By the Eight," Niruin said under his breath. "If the dragons are coming back… what could that mean?"

"It means the world is going to end," Thrynn declared, allowing Ziris to scoot out from under his arm.

"Not necessarily," Vipir said.

"What else could it mean, idiot?" Thrynn asked him.

"I don't know! But it doesn't have to mean it's the end of the world."

Ziris decided to leave them to their arguing, and she slunk over to Mercer's desk. The Guild Master burned her with his gray glare the whole way, and continued to burn her when she reached him.

"What is your excuse?" he asked her simply. His voice was void of emotion, which Ziris knew was worse than him being angry.

"I was waylaid by a group of Imperials that took me to Helgen and almost cut my head off," she explained quietly. "And… Helgen was attacked by a black dragon with red eyes."

When Mercer didn't speak, she looked up from his desk. He was gazing at her with an unreadable expression, and Ziris slowly reached into the pouch she had put the necklace she was meant to steal from Winterhold in, and placed it on the desk. She then pulled the sword out of her belt, and set that down as well. Putting her arms behind her back, she stepped backwards from the desk a few paces, and waited silently.

Mercer had turned his gaze down to the two items, and slowly reached down and picked up the sword. "What is this?" he asked.

"An 'I'm sorry it took me so long to get back' present," Ziris replied quietly. He glanced up, and she bit her lip. "You were complaining about your other one getting dull."

"Hmmf." Mercer picked up the necklace and put it into the top drawer on his desk, and set the sword back down. "You'll only do jobs in the Rift until I say otherwise."

"Yes, Master Frey," Ziris murmured submissively.

Mercer sighed to himself. "About this dragon…" She glanced up, and he frowned at her. "It was real?"

"Yes, it was real," Ziris said, struggling to keep from rolling her eyes. She turned her arm over, and showed him the small burn she'd received in Helgen. "I know it's not good proof, but…" She closed her eyes and dropped her arm. "I don't know, Mercer. It was like a nightmare coming to life. I relived my parents' deaths." She opened her eyes again, and met his. "You know what I mean?"

"Yes," Mercer agreed after a moment. "I do." He sighed to himself. "It'll have to be seen whether or not this will affect the Guild." He tossed a coin purse across the desk, and Ziris frowned at it, before looking at him.

"Sir?"

"You may have been off schedule, but you did the job, so you get your pay," Mercer replied. He nodded to the sword. "And I appreciate that."

Ziris grinned, and reached out to take the purse. "Thank you, Master Frey," she said to him.

He merely hmmfed again in response, turning his attention to the open ledger on his desk, clearly dismissing her. She lingered a moment, used to having to tell him about the job and what had happened, but he didn't ask for a tale. She hadn't expected him to; they hadn't spoken together like that for a while.

Ziris trotted back towards where the others sat. She hadn't expected to get off so easily. Mercer wouldn't keep her in the Rift for long, and it wasn't like she enjoyed traveling anyway. Rift jobs paid less, but that was fine. All in all, her punishment didn't really feel like a punishment.

Thank you, dragon. And sword.

"So, Ziris, was this dragon like… big big, or was it just big?" Vipir asked her as she retook her seat at the table beside Thrynn.

Ziris chuckled. "It was big big," she told him, reaching for the open bottle of ale sitting on the table. She didn't know whose it was, but she didn't care. Taking a big swig out of it, she watched Brynjolf enter the cistern from the Flagon, and go over to Mercer's desk.

Frustrated, Ziris watched the two of them converse, barely paying attention to the dragon discussion occurring at the table.

Thrynn noticed, and he glanced in the direction she was looking, and then at her.

"Are you still upset over that?" he asked her.

"Of course I am," Ziris grumbled.

"Mercer isn't one to show favorites, Z," Thrynn said. "I know he was your mentor, but Brynjolf has more experience than you."

"Only a year more, and we all know I'm better than Brynjolf," Ziris retorted resentfully. She huffed and slammed the bottle of ale down onto the table. "Why didn't he pick me, Thrynn?"

"Maybe he didn't think you were the best one for the job," Thrynn said in response. She turned her glare to him, and the Nord raised his hands. "The two of you clash heads more often than he does with Brynjolf."

"Not over important stuff," Ziris grumbled, although Thrynn was right. Mercer expected more from her, simply because her training had come from him. When she performed less than spectacularly, the Guild Master was angry about it, and Ziris had suffered through every single one of his scoldings.

But still… because she had been trained by Mercer, he knew that she was the best thief in the Guild, on the same level as if not better than himself.

Ziris frowned to herself. Was that the reason why? Did Mercer think she would try to usurp his position as Guild Master, and take it for herself? Brynjolf would never even consider such a thing, and Mercer knew it, too.

Maybe that was it. Mercer had gone with what, in his mind, was the safest choice.

And that made Ziris feel like dirt. He didn't trust her? After all this time?

She sighed to herself, annoyance giving away to sadness, and she rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hand. Thrynn glanced at her in confusion, and she shook her head in response. Thrynn looked as though he wanted to press on the matter, but he didn't.

She appreciated that about him. Thrynn wasn't a big talker, but he did know how to listen. That was a useful skill in a thief, and in a person.

Ziris rose from the table. Thrynn glanced up at her as she did so. "Where're you going?" he asked.

"The training room," she responded, taking the bottle of ale with her. Vipir let out a grumbled complaint as she walked away, but she ignored him, finishing off the ale as she went.

When she reached the training room, she set the bottle down on the wall behind the training dummies and backed away from it to the other end of the room. She then pulled her bow off of her back, nocked an arrow in the string, took aim, and let it fly. It sailed across the room and knocked the bottle off of the wall and to the floor, where it shattered.

Ziris smiled to herself and went to retrieve her arrow before pulling off her quiver and setting it down on the floor. She exhaled and glanced towards the training chests. The master lock one seemed to taunt her with its size, and her eyes narrowed as she took it in.

With a huff, she stalked over to it and sat down in front of it, crossing her legs. She pulled out a lockpick and set to picking it.

Her first attempt was rushed, and pushed, and the pick snapped within her first minute of trying. Ziris grunted to herself and pulled out a second pick. This one lasted a bit longer, but it snapped all the same when she attempted to turn the lock to the right, thinking she had it.

Ziris decided that if she didn't get it with the third, she'd just push the damn thing over and leave it like that. She pulled out a third lockpick and set it in place, letting out a breath. She closed her eyes, and tilted her head as she turned the lock, slowly and gently, pausing at every little click, every quiver in the pick. She let it and the dagger she was using become an extension of herself, as she did with her weapons when fighting.

Her eyes fluttered open when she heard a gentle click, barely there, but a sure sign that she almost had it. Biting her tongue, she turned the lock a bit more, and then cursed when her pick snapped.

"That's the third one," a voice said from behind her.

Ziris let out a breath. "I'm doing my best," she replied shortly.

Brynjolf stepped into the training room and paused behind where she was seated, frowning. "You've never broken more than two on the master chest," he commented.

"Why are you talking to me?" Ziris asked without turning to face him.

Brynjolf closed his eyes momentarily. "I miss you," he said, carefully. "We've barely spoken since Mercer made me his second."

Ziris stood up and shrugged past him to get her quiver and bow. "Maybe there's a reason for that."

"Ziris." She paused before she could walk out of the training room, and Brynjolf glanced down at the floor. "I'm glad you're back."

Ziris hesitated a moment, and then she bowed her head. "I'm glad to be back," she responded, and then she ducked out of the training room, leaving Brynjolf alone.

Back in the main room of the cistern, Ziris crossed over to her bed and set her quiver and bow down on top of the chest beside it. As she did so, she heard Mercer speaking with Vex, and she tilted her head a bit to hear what it was he was saying.

"Get in, retrieve the whatever's in the safe in the cellar, and then get out."

"Anything I should be aware of?" Vex inquired.

"Just that Aringoth is a wood elf who went back on a long standing arrangement," Mercer replied. "Maven doesn't want him dead, and neither do I. Understood?"

"Fine," Vex answered. "I'll be back by morning."

"Good."

The blonde walked away from his desk and disappeared up the ladder leading to the surface. Mercer glanced up from his desk and noticed Ziris watching. He frowned at her.

She frowned back and sat down on the edge of her bed, crossing her arms. Mercer seemed to debate something for a moment, and then he gestured with his head for her to join him.

Ziris rose again and walked over to his desk. Mercer gazed at her, and Ziris inhaled.

"Yes?"

"We haven't spoken together for a few months," Mercer said. "Why is that?"

"The truth?" Mercer gave her a look, and Ziris cleared her throat. "Fine. The truth is that I'm feeling resentful."

It took Mercer about three seconds to guess why, and he let out a heavy breath. "Ziris -"

"Why in the Gods' names did you pick Brynjolf over me?" Ziris demanded. "Everyone in the Guild knows I'm better than him, Mercer! I'm a better thief, you and I work together better… I just don't understand."

Mercer's eyes were narrowed. "Half of the reason I chose Brynjolf is because he does not yell at me," he said after a moment. Ziris clenched her fists, and Mercer straightened up, crossing his arms. "The other half of the reason is that I didn't think you could handle the responsibility."

"But -"

"I am aware of your skills, little raven. If you recall, I was the one who taught them to you," Mercer continued. "And I know how you are, your temperament. You were not made for the job I gave to Brynjolf, and you would not have been comfortable in the position. I know this, and that is why I did not give it to you."

"It just makes me think that you don't… appreciate me, and what I've done," Ziris mumbled. "You and I both know that the Guild has been falling to pieces, Mercer. Without me, it'd be dead or close to it." She forced her fists to open. "Do you not care, even a little bit?"

Mercer gazed at her with no expression for a long moment, and then he turned his eyes downwards. "I care," he said slowly. "If I'd made you my second, you wouldn't have any time to do jobs, and that is what I need you for, because that is what you're good at." He tilted his head, looking up at her again. "Right?"

Ziris blinked at him, and then she turned her gaze to the floor. "I suppose…"

"I didn't make you my second not because I don't appreciate you, but because I appreciate what you do very much," Mercer concluded. "Is that fair?"

"It's fair," Ziris sighed, feeling like she'd just been trampled by a giant.

"Good," Mercer said, uncrossing his arms. "That being said, this one-sided feud you've been having with Brynjolf is bad for the Guild, and it needs to stop. I want you to assist him on a job in the Marketplace tomorrow afternoon."

Ziris barely contained a groan before it snuck out of her. She pursed her lips together and gave him a curt nod. Mercer studied her a moment longer, and then he looked down at his ledger again.

"You're dismissed."

Ziris nodded again, turned on her heel, and returned to her bed.

Brynjolf emerged from the hallway leading to the training room. He glanced around briefly and his gaze landed on her. Ziris didn't look away, and Brynjolf visibly exhaled before he started across the cistern towards her. Ziris stiffened at his approach, but she forced herself to look relaxed when he came to a stop in front of her.

"Did Mercer -?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Brynjolf glanced downwards and then back up at her. "All right. Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," Ziris agreed apathetically, and then she turned her attention to fiddling with a loose string on a button of her armor. She was aware of Brynjolf remaining where he was for a moment, as though he had more to say, but then he turned and walked away.

She allowed her gaze to drift upwards and watched him cross to the door leading to the Flagon. When he was gone, she closed her eyes and reached into her armor to pull out the necklace he'd given her when they'd first met. The emerald shone brightly at her as she gaze down at the ring on the chain, and she sighed to herself, suddenly feeling more sad than anything.

Was it too much to ask for things to go back to the way they'd been?

I've been avidly watching The Simpsons for these past two days, and I have one thing to say:

Sorry, Mom, the mob has spoken!