Chapter 10: For Freedom

Samuel quickly slid his hand along the wooden casing until he found a handle. Quietly he opened the door and slipped inside the building, sneaking his way along the counter, across the too-open-for-his-taste room with tables and chairs and up the stairs. This time, he made sure Haelga wasn't at work. Svana wasn't a problem and he was sure no guest would come here today. On his left was a wall shared by two adjacent rooms. The one on the left was the one he'd found the special guest at during his first mission. The one on the right was his destination this time. Or, to be precise, the small storage room behind it. He went through the small corridor the wall on his left created, passed the beds in the bedroom, crept in the storage room quickly and closed the door behind him. Skillfully, he locked it and looked around. There were several barrels lying about and a few crates in the corner. He checked the contents and decided to hide in one of the barrels. Only a small amount of herbs was on the bottom and it looked dry and cozy. He squeezed in there, put the lid over it loosely and waited.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. He was waiting patiently, quietly studying the texture of the wooden barrel he was sitting in. It was dark and he could barely make out his own fingers, but he felt the surface of the wood as he touched it and it somehow made him feel reassured. At last, he heard several pairs of footsteps coming into the bedroom right next to him.

"So," a honeyed male elven voice said, "they heard the Dragonborn Shout at High Hrothgar. That place is far from everything and hardly anyone comes there. As far as we know, she was last seen in Markarth, escaping with a guy of little over-average height with dark brown hair falling somewhere above his shoulders and a little tall face that humans would probably find handsome. He was wearing a light grey shirt and a pair of thin leather trousers looking like a hundred years old fashion. And we all know this description will not fit because he was disguised. So... handsome, little over-average height and hair which is definitely not dark brown. The thing is they escaped to Nchuand-Zel where there was a slide. Meaning they found a way out and it wasn't through the city. Reached High Hrothgar in an unbelievably short time and fought with something there. Currently we don't know if the Dragonborn is alive."

"Oh, she is alive, that's for sure," another elven voice opposed. "Lady Elenwen has a way to find out. She needs her alive and I don't want to know what she would do to all of us if the Dragonborn died."

"Is her... 'way' reliable?"

"It is the most reliable thing you could ever imagine."

"So what now?"

"Someone head for High Hrothgar and find out what she was fighting there. Take the rotstone with you and do not even attempt to fight the Dragonborn without using it. Even if she doesn't have any quality equipment, she is dangerous. You, Nelayn, get out there and urge the peasants to look for the impostor. Here," Samuel heard the clinking sound of coins in a pouch, "they will respond to this. They always do."

"And the worshippers of Talos..."

"Do not kill them. The Hunter will come and select the best. Lady Elenwen needs the strong ones."

"What does she use them for anyway?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you about it. This knowledge is reserved to the most trusted."

"Well, I'm sorry," a sharp-tongued reply reached Samuel's ears.

The elves sounded anxious, on the edge. He wondered if they would start a fight if the conversation continued a little longer. But it didn't. The meeting was adjourned soon after and all the elves except for the one who seemed the most informed of them all had left. Samuel heard a creak as the elf lay down on one of the beds. Samuel himself had tried these beds countless times during the last few days. He remembered the sound of each and every one them and knew exactly where the elf was lying. This was perfect. He wouldn't notice the door being opened from there. Samuel had a perfect chance to check if the elf was asleep and if the air was clear.

Very slowly and cautiously he lifted the lid resting on his barrel supporting it with fingers of just one hand. He then grabbed the edge of the barrel with his other hand, slowly stood up and got out of the barrel in absolute silence. Treading lightly across the room with his bare feet, he crouched before the door and took a lockpick out of a pouch that was tied to his belt. His dexterous fingers worked swiftly and soon the door clicked open quietly. He opened it ajar and carefully looked around. The room was lit dimly by a lingering flame from the fireplace on his right. Opposite of the fireplace, an Altmer lay on a bed with his gilded armor still on, facing the entrance corridor and breathing steadily. His long gold-copper-colored hair covered a part of his pale face and spread around him like a fan. Samuel cussed in his thoughts. The cursed hair made his job so much harder.

He crept silently behind the elf and prayed to Nocturnal so that he wouldn't get noticed. He put his right hand in his pocket and pulled out an amulet which looked like a short sword that had an elegantly decorated double-edged axe instead of a guard. The amulet of Talos. Holding his breath, he pulled the elf's hair out of his face and then bared his neck. Cautiously he slid the chain under it and tied the amulet around it. Then he took a pair of pincers and clipped it so the elf wouldn't be able to remove it so easily in case he found it. So far, so good. He crawled along the wooden wall to his left back to the entrance corridor, carefully avoiding any creaking plans he knew about. He walked down the stairs quietly, double checked the entrance room to make sure the way was clear and left the house the same way he had come before. He took a deep breath once outside, mentally preparing for the next stage. This mission was far from over and the most dangerous and thrilling part was yet to come.

There were two bulkheads separating the main Riften canal from Lake Honrich. Aislinn and Brynjolf had chosen the southern one which was closer to both the entrance to the Ratway and the cemetery through which they could get directly to the Ragged Flagon. It was dark and they could hardly see what was in front of them. Considering their enemies had the same kind of disadvantage, it wasn't that bad. Unlike them, the two thieves would probably be able to walk the area blindfolded and still locate every single rock there was. The night's darkness covering their figures, they crept silently from one birch trunk to another until they reached a group of rocks that lay nearby the south city gate. A few Thalmor guards, as well as two Imperial ones, were marching slowly in front of the gate back and forth again. None of them paid any attention to the lake. The two intruders passed the rocks and pressed themselves against the city walls behind them. The lake was shallow here, allowing them to safely cross it without having to swim. They lurked along the wall to their right, underneath the entrance to the sewers which, as they both knew, lead to a dead end, and then around a corner to their right. There was a house on their left, leading to a bridge that connected it with a wharf on the opposite side. A few hooded figures were walking there, occasionally stopping to look around.

Aislinn and Brynjolf directed their attention to the bulkhead on their right. The current was strong here, driving the water right into the massive wooden gates and creating whirlpools as it clashed with them. Aislinn went ahead, Brynjolf guarding her back. She swam a short distance until the current took over and quickly carried her to the gates. She leaned against them, quickly drawing a dagger and jabbing it deep into the wood right above her. It took her some effort to pull herself up and grab the edge of the left gate. Leaving the dagger where it was, she waved at Brynjolf and leaped into the canal on the other side. Brynjolf followed her swiftly and took her dagger with him before joining her. They found themselves facing the wharfs leading along the Riften canal. On their left there was the entrance to the Ratway. They quickly climbed up to it when Aislinn noticed a hooded figure approaching them. Taking her dagger from Brynjolf, she danced around the newcomer in absolute silence, unnoticed. Before he could take another step, she grabbed his head and slit his throat. They hid the Thalmor's body in one of the barrels nearby and dumped it in the water. Soon, the current took it and wedged it between two wooden pillars supporting the wharf the two of them were currently standing on. They turned around and disappeared behind the door to the Ratway.

Adjusting their eyes to the almost impenetrable darkness inside, they continued through the narrow corridors, across the wooden drawbridge and then down the way to the Ragged Flagon.

"That was pretty merciless," Brynjolf commented on their way.

"He was a Thalmor and stood in our way," Aislinn opposed. "I don't have time to query them in case some of them are good boys. And he would have done the same to you had he the chance."

"I guess the Dark Brotherhood must be pretty fond of you, huh?"

"I do what I must," she replied simply.

Then, silence took over them. They didn't speak for a while, feeling each other's uneasiness as they realized it was too dark and too quiet. The usual bandits and rogues were gone, the way seemingly safe. They entered the Ragged Flagon only to find it quiet, deserted.

"Damn, what happened here?" Brynjolf asked, clenching his fists.

"It doesn't look like there was a fight, though," Aislinn stated as she examined the place. She lit a candle resting on the counter and carefully walked around the whole place. Most of the things, including the trophies, were gone, the nooks around the round pool in the center, where the merchants and agents used to sit, dark and abandoned.

They entered the Cistern and found it just as deserted.

"Do you think the treasury's safe?" Aislinn asked, her tone more curious than worried.

"We can find out. You took your key with you in Markarth, right?"

"I'm not that stupid," she said half jokingly and pulled a large copper key out of her backpack. Brynjolf took his and they opened the door together.

The dim light of the candle Aislinn was still holding fell on a number of objects. There were chests, sacks with money or supplies, trophies, armors, weapons and just about anything the two of them could ever imagine, all intact.

"So, whoever could have gotten here, they didn't manage to open the treasury, at least," Aislinn smiled. "Hm, we're quite rich, don't you think?"

"I believe you took care of that," Brynjolf chuckled.

"Then I'm taking my share." She pointed at a figurine wearing a set of daedric armor and then to several weapon stands on her left holding all kinds of weapons. She chose two one-handed swords, a daedric one and an ebony one, and then added an ebony bow with all the arrows she could find, leaving her dwarven equipment in their place.

"Somebody's not cheap," Brynjolf whistled. "As if you were trying to save the world!"

"Me? Saving the world? Nah!" the reply was dry like the sands of Hammerfell's deserts.

Brynjolf took a few spare daggers, an ebony bow and an ebony sword, carefully studying their state. When he hadn't found any dents or faults, he switched them with his Dwemer bow and sword.

"What was the point of taking these things down in Nchuand-Zel anyway?" Aislinn wondered.

"The point was to soothe Nocturnal before she rids you of all the luck she's granted to you," Brynjolf answered with a shrug. "You already try her patience every time you get the chance."

Aislinn glared at him without another word.

They were about to lock the treasury door again when she noticed a piece of paper jammed right under it. She slid the door aside a little and took it. There was a symbol, a circle with the moon embraced by the wings of a nightingale inside. Below it was just one word. "Safe".

"I think I know where they are," Brynjolf whispered as he looked over her shoulder. Aislinn nodded.

"So," she took a deep breath, "the Ratway or the cemetery?"

"I'd say the cemetery. If that stinking Altmer is found, they're sure to enter the Ratway."

"And to alert the whole city in no time. I say we just get out of here as soon as possible."

A silent nod from Brynjolf's side set them into motion. They climbed the cheap-looking wooden ladder leading out of the Cistern and pushed the button to move the sarcophagus above them. The darkness of the night was slowly making way to the morning light which shone dimly through the Riften mist. The cemetery was empty save for a few skeevers, busy with digging up a hole right next to the destroyed shrine of Talos.

The two of them moved sneakily past the shrine, turned right and headed toward the wharfs. Passing the Mistveil Keep on their left would be a challenge but Aislinn froze before they even tried. She noticed a familiar figure approaching from the city market.

"Brynjolf," she addressed her companion quietly. "Do I really see Samuel or are my eyes deceiving me?"

"It's him," he agreed. "What in Oblivion is he so happy about?"

They watched him curiously as he danced across the wooden bridge leading to the Keep. She noticed a trace of cautiousness in his eyes, something that no-one would expect from a child like him. If they didn't know he worked for the Guild. He must be on a mission. Shock displayed in Aislinn's face when he reached the stairs to the Keep and grabbed the cloak of the Thalmor in front of him. There were city guards standing around along with the Thalmor guards, as well as a number of regular citizens who all watched the boy in surprise. Just what is he planning?

"Mister elf, mister elf!" Samuel shouted merrily as the Altmer turned around, his gold-copper-colored hair waving around him.

"What is it?" he asked coldly.

"I brought you a present!" A wide smile on his face, Samuel pulled a ring out of his pocket and handed it to the elf. Aislinn knew the ring quite well. It looked unusual and the bright blue jewel that was decorating it served as a lid. Anything could be put in there but Aislinn knew this ring was a fake copy of one that had been lost for centuries and it was absolutely worthless. She had brought it to the Guild herself.

"Oh..." the elf seemed taken aback by the sudden patronage. "Thank you. What is this?"

"Well, it used to be my mother's... oh!" Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "That amulet of yours! I didn't know you worshipped Talos! So is he now an official god?"

The elf gasped and so did Aislinn. Suddenly, everyone's eyes were on him, some curious, some angry.

"Traitor! How dare you!" one of the present Thalmor yelled, pointing a finger at him in a threatening gesture.

"Now you're trying to cover up your true nature, huh? That's a bunch of crap!" a voice from the crowd shouted.

"Yeah, don't try to deny it! You just want to control us! Give our freedom back!"

"Silence!" another Thalmor guard yelled. "You keep quiet or you're all going to the pillory!"

"Yeah? And who's going to throw rotten eggs at us when no-one's left, huh?"

"Stop the nonsense and seize the heretic!" yet another Altmer shouted.

More and more people kept joining on both sides. Samuel made a frightened face and tottered back to the bridge. The quarrel soon broke out into an open fight, the citizens gaining arms and support from the ones who quickly marched from the marketplace. The regular city guards realized their chance and attacked the Thalmor from behind. Aislinn noticed the accused elf searching frantically through the crowd. He located the boy who had framed him, took his bow and readied an arrow in it. Aislinn froze.

Without a second thought, she drew her own bow and took an arrow out of her quiver.

"Lass, you can't," she heard Brynjolf pleading. "You'll get yourself killed, stop it!"

Too late. The arrow made its way to the Altmer's temple, making him fall down from the stairs. The few people who noticed it turned in the direction where it came from.

"The Dragonborn!" yelled one of the Thalmor guards immediately. "After her!"

Aislinn quickly put the bow over her back and drew her swords. Behind her, she heard Brynjolf unsheathe his own.

"So she's alive!" someone in the crowd screamed. "You liars! You traitors!"

More people joining. The fight turned into an absolute chaos, arrows firing from both sides and buzzing in the air, weapons clashing, occasional sparks flying from their blades. Someone threw a fireball into the crowd. It damaged both sides equally. There were people getting caught in the middle of the fight without having a way to protect themselves. Their blood was soon imbuing the cobblestones under them.

"Fus Ro Dah!" Aislinn Shouted, trying to hit as many elves as possible while avoiding any possible allies. She didn't waste any time waiting and raised her swords to fight an Altmer who attacked her from her right. He seemed more skilled than the others, holding two enchanted daggers and dancing around her. She had an advantage. She knew he wouldn't kill her but she would kill him. Swiftly and aggressively she blocked one of his daggers before it reached her right hip. Kicking the elf in his left knee, she used the other sword to stab him in his stomach and pull it back again, creating a distance between them. He fell to his knees and suddenly reached into his pocket. His hand pulled out a white stone which seemed almost transparent. He threw it on the ground, a crack appeared on it and white mist spread around it.

"No!" Brynjolf shrieked. "Lass, get out of here! Now!"

"Lok Vah Koor!" she Shouted, expecting the mist to give way. It didn't.

She ran for it, making her way through the crowd. There weren't many Thalmor left and the ones who tried to attack her were quickly pushed back by the enraged locals. They made a wall around her, guarding her with their bodies. She felt a sudden wave of gratitude take over her. The mist was spreading quickly, reaching her once again. She felt dizzy, desperately trying to get to a safer place. Then she felt someone put their arms around her shoulders and lift her gently. She was carried to the marketplace and seated on a wooden crate resting by the stone wall which separated the area with the stands from the wooden pavement around it.

"Brynjolf," she whispered, raising her face with difficulty. He was there, watching her with a mixture of fear, concern, anxiety and rage in his face. She had never seen him like this. He seemed about to explode but also shrinking every moment. Helpless, desperate, shaken. She knew at once she had made him reach his limit. It suddenly scared her. Weak as she felt, she still found some strength to reach out her arms and embrace him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Brynjolf," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Then her grip loosened and her arms slumped to her sides.

Suddenly, she heard a number of voices cry around her.

"All hail the Dragonborn, our savior!"

"For free Skyrim!"

"For the Empire!"

Then an enraged voice opposed.

"You filthy Imperials now think you did something noble! It was the Stormcloaks all along who wanted to drive the intruders out of our land! You did nothing for Skyrim! Just plundered our keeps, deprived us of our freedom and signed a worthless treaty! You'd be nothing if not for the Dragonborn!"

"You couldn't do a thing yourselves!" another voice opposed. "Useless Stormcloak scum who just conquer the land and claim the throne as if it was given! Your beloved Ulfric only thought of himself!"

Shakily, Aislinn stood up. Brynjolf stared at her in disbelief as she took a deep breath.

"Enough!" she exclaimed, almost making it sound like a Shout. Suddenly, everyone fell still and silent.

"You utterly blind pieces of idiotic skeever skulls!" she continued, her voice rock solid. "Can't you overcome your hatred and end these meaningless quarrels of yours? Don't you see your freedom being taken from you? Are some petty disputes from the old times worth your homes and families? Are you going to let the Thalmor take everything from you?!"

There was a silence. Then, a single voice whispered.

"Of course we don't want to let the Thalmor take over."

"Drive out the Thalmor!" another voice joined him.

"Then forget old rivalries and unite!" Aislinn called to them. "Defeat them together, hand in hand! Don't let the damned intruders have their way! Don't let them break you apart!"

"The Dragonborn is right! We should unite and drive the enemies away from our land!"

"All hail the Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim!"

"All hail the Dragonborn, the High Queen of Skyrim!" the crowd started cheering.

Aislinn's face went pale. This was not supposed to happen. It was wrong! She wasn't meant to be the High Queen. And above all, she wasn't the High Queen!

She waved her hand and the crowd went silent.

"I am not the High Queen," she stated, her voice a mere whisper but loud enough to reach everybody's ears. "I am but a loyal servant of Skyrim and her people. I will not betray you and I will not fail. Let us drive out the Thalmor and make our land free at last!"

She couldn't believe her own words. As if someone else put them in her mouth and made her release them. Strangely enough, she felt determined to fulfill the promise she had just given to the people of Skyrim. She did want to help them, even if it meant making her life even more difficult and full of struggles.

She gave a quick look to Brynjolf. He stood there like a statue, his expression no more readable than a withered page with Falmer script writings in it.

He is going to kill me, she thought to herself. And so Skyrim will lose her savior once again.

I decided to rewrite the first four chapters when I have the time to make them more readable for possible new readers. Their content will not change and most of the dialogues won't either, just the way it's written will change a bit and I might add some descriptions to make the text richer. The dialogue that definitely will change is one that made Brynjolf completely fall out of his character. I'd slap myself for it.

On another note, here's a related story for you. My boyfriend suspects that I only write this fic because I like Brynjolf and my character couldn't marry him in the game. Well, he's right. Exposed. Oh darn.