Okay, I'm starting this because I've played with this idea for a really long time. I'm going to keep working on my other Skyrim story, don't worry. This is just something fun, too. I hope you guys like it.

I own nothing.

Ahlia frowned down at the parchment. "This is really getting ridiculous now," she grumbled to herself.

She glared into the polished metal surface of a nearby mirror. She was a young woman of Breton descent, giving her a slight appearance. Her features were soft, gentle, almost childish with the set of her wide eyes and the curve of her cheeks. Her hair was a dark blonde, and cut fairly short. Some of the longer strands fell onto her forehead, but many seemed to prefer sticking straight up. Her eyes were dark, and framed by equally dark lashes. She was pretty, even she had to admit, not that being pretty did her much good.

At one time, Ahlia had been the Dovahkiin, the slayer of dragons, but those days had passed with the death of the world eater. Now, it felt more like she was a trophy than a person, something for court nobles to parade around in front of their populace.

And something for her mother to try to wed off.

Ever since she had returned from the Throat of the World, following the death of Anduin, her mother had been trying to get her to marry the richest man (and occasionally woman) she could find. Ahlia knew it was because her mother wanted some of that money for herself, wanted rich children to take care of her. They had never been particularly close, so Ahlia held no delusions that her mother might be doing this for her sake. It had gotten so bad that in her last letter, Ahlia had told her mother that she was in love an intending to marry a man she had met during her adventures. And that was what brought her to the awful letter currently sitting on her table.

Her mother was coming to Solitude. She wanted to see this betrothed for herself. To "welcome him into the family" as she put it, but Ahlia figured her mother was more planning to scare him off and push some other suitor on her than welcome him. So her least favorite relative was coming to her home in her least favorite city to run out her lover and try to force her to marry some rich fop that only wanted her to be his trophy for eternity. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was one further complication:

There was no lover from her adventures. It had been a lie.

Ahlia ran a hand through her hair, causing it to stick up even more than before, and looked out her bedroom window. She was currently staying at Proudspire Manor, her home in Solitude. She had been planning to only stay a short while before leaving again for one of the cities she liked better. They treated her like some kind of doll in Solitude. The members of the court hassled her to wear dresses and cosmetics, and the bards constantly bothered her for stories they could turn into songs. She never got a moments peace, but she had been fulfilling a bounty in the area and had desperately wanted to sleep in a bed. The letter – that cursed thing – had been waiting on the table outside her bedroom when she had arrived. She snatched it up and began reading it again as she left her room and headed downstairs.

Jordis, her housecarl, was sitting at a bench on the first floor. She looked up as Ahlia came down the stairs and waived the letter at her. "When did this come again?"

"I'm sorry my Thane, it arrived several weeks ago. I didn't know how to get a hold of you to get it to you," the swordswoman answered.

Ahlia frowned. "It's alright. Can you guess what day exactly?"

"Um... The second of Second Seed, I believe. Is everything alright my Thane?"

"Damn," Ahlia swore. It took her a moment to realize Jordis had asked her a question "Huh? Yes, everything is fine." She frowned down at the letter. Her mother would be coming in early Mid Year. That meant she could be there any day. And Ahlia had no fiancee. She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes wearily. "Jordis, I will be in town for a while, but I will be having company. Would it be possible for you to stay out of the house? At the Blue Palace perhaps?" She didn't want the housecarl around if things were to get too messy, they didn't know each other well enough for her to feel comfortable with it.

"Of course, my Thane, I'll make the necessary preparations."

While Jordis left to do just that, Ahlia picked up her bow and arrows. She needed to clear her head.

It was after sunset when she finally came back. There seemed to be something going on near the Palace, and there was an uneasy feeling in the streets, but she did not to let it bother her. That's what the Palace employed guards for, after all. She strolled up to her home, and decided to go around the back, and up on to the porch to enjoy the evening breeze coming off the sea before going inside. She had not managed to think up any way out of her current problem during her time out hunting. She passed under the stone archway separating the front of her house from the back, and some sense made her tense. In a moment, she had an arrow fitted onto her bowstring. In the darkest shadows next to the stairway, something moved.

"Heh, can't sneak past you, can I, lass," a deep voice called out to her. She could make out the form of a fairly large man in the gloom that gathered where the staircase met the wall, but not much else.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You know, I'm much more inclined to talk when I don't have an arrow aimed at my chest," the voice drawled.

"I'm much more inclined to shoot trespassers than to talk to them," Ahlia answered.

The man laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

"Are you the one that all of that fuss is about?" she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the Blue Palace.

"It's a possibility."

Slowly, she lowered her bow, easing the bowstring forward. "Alright, come out and give me your name."

The man that stepped from the shadows was tall, and his broad shoulders gave him away as a Nord. He was dressed entirely in dark, soft leather armor, with a sword and a knife sheathed at his hip. His skin was fair, and his hair was long and dark. He had facial hair, a thin, light scar that curved down one cheek, and pale eyes – she couldn't determine their exact color in the dark. The man was obviously a thief from his attire, but he was also very handsome. "My name is Brynjolf."

An idea stirred in her mind. She had previously had dealings with the Thieves Guild, and really had no problem with them, as long as they weren't stealing from her. They didn't kill anyone, and, for the most part, didn't target people who couldn't stand to lose a little, so she had little moral qualms with them. Perhaps, there was even a way they could both help each other...