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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Bounty (Summary + Tags)
Date: 2014-01-30 07:12 am (UTC)Tags: char:F!DB char:Jarl_Balgruuf char:Hrongar shipping:gen race:redguard
Bounty 1.1/?
Date: 2014-01-30 07:16 am (UTC)The Thane of Whiterun slipped into Dragonsreach unnoticed.
Supper had just begun. Without any visiting dignitaries or guests of honor, it was a quiet affair, with only Balgruuf, his family, and his court officials in attendance. His brother and a handful of guards Whiterun could spare were off in the south of the hold, clearing Fort Greymoor of a band of bandits preying upon hold’s trade routes.
Balgruuf was just pondering the likelihood of Hrongar’s quick return when Irileth, stationed behind his chair, nudged him, and leaned over to mutter into his ear. “The Thane is here.” He looked up sharpely.
The guards arrayed along the entrance of Dragonsreach’s great hall barely seemed to notice the Thane as she slipped in the massive doors. They gave her cursory nods, their eyes sliding over her as if she was one of the servants.
It was an oversight, but Balgruuf couldn’t fault them. The new Thane- the Dragonborn- was hardly what any Nord would expect of a woman who bore both those titles. She did not look like a warrior of legend; she wore simple peasant clothes, never equipping the armor Balgruuf had given her, not even when she had gone out to fight the dragon. The only weapon she carried was a small steel dagger. Yet, she had survived to tell the tale, and proven she was the Dragonborn.
It seemed as she walked she drew into the shadows, clinging instinctively to the edges of the room and ducking her head to avoid meeting the gaze of any of the patrolling guards.
Balgruuf’s attention was drawn away by a question from Proventus, and the next thing he knew his Thane had materialized at the table, sitting down in the chair beside him. Once his wife would have sat there; now it was where important visitors were seated when they stayed at Dragonreach, and left empty otherwise.
The Thane now sat there, looking completely at ease. She lounged against the table, her chin rested in her hands. She was looking at him silently, and after a moment Balgruuf realized she was waiting for him to address her.
“Good evening, Thane Fiora,” he said at last, quietly. The conversation hadn’t been stalled for a moment by her entrance- aside from a few glances thrown her way, the table seemed largely uncurious about the Thane. There was something her bearing that encouraged the eyes to slide away, especially to one of noble birth. She could wear the bearing of a servant easily, but he doubted she came from an position of servitude- the smile she threw his way was entirely too self-confident for one who had ever served nobility addressing a Jarl.
Bounty 1.2/?
Date: 2014-01-30 07:18 am (UTC)When she remained silent, still looking at him, he prompted her. “Is there something you have come to me for…?”
His thane’s expression lost some of its confidence, and she looked away before answering. “I, uh… you named me thane,” she glanced up at him, then stared back down at the table. “I’m not…” She shook the sentence away with an irritable shake of her head and started again. “The duties of a thane are… unclear to me, but I will do my best to fulfill them.” Her eyes met his again, and he was surprised at the sincerity on her features.
“A thane has no formal duties,” he said carefully. In truth, he had named her thane on a whim, as thanks for her bravery facing the dragon. If she had been more of a warrior, he would have put more effort into securing her loyalties, but even with the title of Dragonborn, it was hard to imagine this slip of a girl changing the balance of Skyrim. Plus, if the suspicions Irileth had voiced to him were correct, she was the sort of person entirely uninterested in noble and great deeds. “The title is taken as largely ceremonial by many.”
She met his scrutiny, not looking away again. “But not by all?”
“No. Once, the title of the thane meant much more,” Balgruuf said. The hold had had thanes aplenty back in those days, before the Great War that had destroyed half of a generation of warriors. “A thane defended the hold, and its people, against any dangers.”
“Like the dragon,” the thane mused, running her hands through her tangle of dusty blonde hair. Her Redguard heritage was plain in the color of her skin, but her hair and build told of a mixed bloodline. She reached down to her belt and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. Smoothing it out onto the table, she said “I got this from Hulda, the innkeeper at the Mare.”
Squinting, Balgruuf leaned forward to read the crumpled document. A familiar signature met his eyes- his own. It was a bounty letter, for a small hideout of bandits that had been making a nuisance of themselves out by the edge of the westernmost mountains of Whiterun hold. “You plan to go after these bandits?”
“Ah, uhm.. yes,” the thane said, nodding.
He gave her an appraising look. She had managed to kill a dragon, and she would have Lydia’s help most likely. “You needn’t seek my permission,” he said, folding the bounty again and holding it out to her. “A bounty is for anyone to pursue.”
“I… know…” the thane said hesitantly.
“What is it then?” Balgruuf said, impatience creeping into his tone.
His thane fumbled for the paper, and for a moment he was reminded of how young she was. One and twenty, at oldest.
“I… don’t know what the bounty says,” she mumbled.
“What?” he snapped.
“I don’t know how to read,” she said. Her earlier bravado was stripped away entirely now, and she looked every bit the child she was.
Bounty 1.3/?
Date: 2014-01-30 07:20 am (UTC)He took the bounty back. “If you plan to serve as thane in my court,” he said quietly, not wishing to embarrass the girl, “you’d do well to learn.”
She flushed and folded her arms defensively, not replying.
“The bounty is for a group of bandits camped out in the Bleakwind Basin,” Balgruuf explained. “Do you have your map? I’ll mark its location for you.”
The thane was rummaging in her pack for her map when the doors of Dragonsreach were thrown upon. Hrongar stumbled inside, blood-spattered and staggering, supported by a guard.
A shocked hush fell over the room. Balgruuf fought to keep his alarm from his face, his mind reeling over the possibilities. Aside from Irileth and the Companions, his Hrongar had no equal among the warriors of Whiterun. For him to return thus…
“What happened?” he asked quickly, rising from the table and hurrying down to the entrance hall. Irileth followed on his heels, joined after a moment by his Thane. Proventus, slower to move, followed after them.
Hrongar waved off the guard’s. “Damn bandits,” he growled, taking a step towards Balgruuf. Balgruuf caught him by the arm when he stumbled, supporting his brother’s stronger frame with his own. He was heedless to the blood that began to soak through to his furs, and the cloying smell of copper and decay.
“Damn bandits,” Hrongar swore. “Ta- The eight curse them!” He spat onto the floorboards of the keep, swaying on his feet. “We attacked in the dawn, thinking to catch them unaware. The first few fell easily- picked their archers right off the ramparts, and the rest came swarming out. We thought they were the rest, though they were too stupid to see the advantage of their position in the fort.” Hrongar coughed and spat again, and crimson droplets stained the wood beneath his feet.
Haltingly, the rest of the story fell from his brother’s lips. Their easy assault upon the fort had been naught but a ruse; a common trick. Once inside the gates had been shut behind them, and the bandits had swarmed down upon them in twofold numbers. Even then they might have escaped- the guards of Whiterun, well-armored and well-trained, were stronger than any scrawny bandits.
Irileth’s expression shifted slightly, contempt flickering in her eyes as she glanced from Hrongar to Balgruuf. A fool’s mistake, her expression said. Balgruuf suppressed the flicker of temper that flared in his chest, shoving it aside to focus on his brother’s story.
“They had a mage,” Hrongar explained. “Not some copper septim thug who could shoot a bit of fire while swinging his sword. The man summoned two dremora, and…” His voice took on a softer note of shame. “The fight was over. I killed those guarding the gate and escaped, but…”
Balgruuf took a slow breath, closing his eyes. A dozen of his men killed. A dozen they couldn’t afford to lose, with dragons lurking outside the city’s crumbling walls and Ulfric’s soldiers stationed across the plains, not to mention the Imperials knocking on his door and demanding support.
“Farengar,” he called after a moment, turning back towards the dining tables. The court mage had displayed his usual disinterest in matters of fighting, remaining at the table while the others listened to Hrongar’s report. At least he was making himself useful- uncharacteristically he had taken it upon himself to distract Balgruuf’s children from the scene at the doors, capturing their attention with little puffs of fire and ice from his palms.
Bounty 1.4/?
Date: 2014-01-30 07:22 am (UTC)“Come, I have use of your council,” Balgruuf beckoned him, turning back to Hrongar. His brother’s face was pale and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead at the strain of standing, even with most of his weight supported by Balgruuf. His breathing was raspy and uneven, his wounds bleeding freely.
“Summon Danica Pure-spring,” Balgruuf said, not directing the order towards anyone in particular.
It was his thane who sprang to the task. In the confusion Balgruuf had forgotten her presence. She moved quickly, disappearing out the doors of Dragonsreach before any of his guards stirred to the task.
* * *
A plan was beginning to take shape in Fi’s head.
It was not the best of plans, admittedly. It was undoubtedly one of the more foolhardy things she had considered in her life- and for a woman who had once stolen the circlet of Jarl Elisif the Fair, that was saying something.
No, this wasn’t one of her ordinary jobs, but the entire concept of ordinary had been tossed out the window some time before. It had begun to slip when Mercer had double-crossed her, and deteriorated from there on out. Now she found herself Thane of Whiterun and Dragonborn, of all things.
If it weren’t for Mercer’s betrayal, she would have ran back to Riften the moment she was free of Helgen Keep. Who knew the stories he had spun when he returned without her? He could have painted her with any colors he wanted, and much as the thought stung, the others would take his word. They had become her brothers and sisters in crime, but Mercer was their leader.
Other opportunities had blossomed before her. For now, it was necessary that Fi the Thief was dead, a traitor to her Guildmates and likely the would-be murderer of their Guildmaster. Fiora Montague, however, had a much more auspicious future before her. The Dragonborn and the Thane of Whiterun… The first idea still made Fi’s head spin, so she focused on the second.
A Thane. A Thane had duties, just as a thief of the Guild would have. That she could grasp and cling to, while all else seemed like some strange fever-dream. The power that had awoken inside her…
Now was not the time to ponder that.
She banged the doors of Kynareth’s temple, until they were yanked open and the orange-robed priestess of Kynareth peered out. “What is it?” she asked warily.
“The jarl’s brother,” Fi said, pointing up to Dragonsreach. “He’s been injured. Badly.”
Danica Pure-spring’s eyes widened. She wasted no time in questions, hurrying past Fi to the steps of the keep. Fi followed after her, casting a glance at the sleeping city as she ascended above it. The braziers and the torches of the guards flickered away, casting a flickering glow upon the nearly empty streets. For a moment she missed Riften- no shadow there would go unused by some thief or footpad.
A Thane would not have such thoughts, she guessed, quickening her steps to keep pace with the priestess.
OP here!
Date: 2014-01-30 01:23 pm (UTC)A!A
Date: 2014-01-31 10:23 pm (UTC)Bountry [2.1/?]
Date: 2014-01-31 10:25 pm (UTC)She stood before his throne, meeting his gaze with a cocksure smile. A scrawny, threadbare woman confidently proposing one of the most suicidal schemes he had heard in his life.
“You would… trick these bandits,” he said slowly.
“Trick them and kill them,” the Thane said, crossing her arms and flashing him a grin. “Even the quickest adept will have difficultly casting with a cut throat. Same goes for their thugs.”
Balgruuf glanced at his council. Proventus was eyeing the Thane with a mixture of disgust and surprise, while he saw a measure of approval in Irileth’s eyes. Neither matched the sheer, unbridled contempt that Balgruuf was sure Hrongar or any outspoken Nord would show at his Thane’s scheme. There was no honor in trickery, nor slitting men’s throats in the night.
As jarl of one of the most economically important holds in Skyrim, he had long abandoned the pure Nord ideals of his youth for pragmatism. He would not condone such measures against an enemy army, but these bandits had already proved themselves without honor. If his Thane could carry out such a deed…
His other options weren’t promising. He could send a larger detachment of guards, but there were barely enough to guard the city and patrol the hold as it was. The loss of Hrongar’s force guaranteed every guard in the hold would be overworked for months to come, and the loss of more could have dire results.
Both the Stormcloaks and the Empire held a presence within his hold. He could go groveling to either side, trade his loyalty for the safety of a patrolling army. Proventus had spent the better part of the night counseling him to send an envoy to General Tullius. In the long run he knew taking sides would only put the citizens of his hold in greater danger. Now Ulfric and Tullius tread lightly in his hold, trying to court his good will. Should he join a side, both would not hesitate to strip the hold of all its crops, burn what they couldn’t take, and leave thousands of his citizens to starve. That wasn’t even counting those who would undoubtedly be caught up in the skirmishes.
The warriors who dwelt within Whiterun’s walls were another matter. The Companions were a fearsome force, but expensive and fickle in their loyalty, as all mercenaries were. If old Kodlak Whitemane had still been alive, Balgruuf might have gone to them. But their new Harbinger, a scarred Nord with a vengeful streak a mile wide, leaned far too much to the Stormcloaks for Balgruuf to trust him completely. With Ulfric snapping at his heels, entrusting too much in a man perhaps under his pay was unwise. Added to this fact was, with the size and skills of this company of bandits, it would take seven or eight Companions at least to defeat them. The Dragonsreach treasury had already been sorely taxed by the war, and Companions were expensive.
Re: Bountry [2.1/?]
Date: 2014-01-31 10:27 pm (UTC)Balgruuf realized he had let the silence stretch on too long- all three members of his court were giving him curious looks. Balgruuf sighed and rubbed his temples.
“Are you well, my jarl?” Proventus inquired.
“I’m fine,” Balgruuf snapped, waving a hand dismissively. Between his brother’s condition and debate over what to do about the fort, he’d been up until shortly before dawn. What little sleep he had gotten had been restless and troubled.
He considered for a moment longer, and then stood abruptly. “Proventus. Speak to Commander Caius, get his appraisal of the ranks., and how much patrols will need to be cut. A list of the dead, too.” Their families would have to be notified, and looked to. “Thane Fiora, we will speak of your idea further in my chambers.” Where they wouldn’t be subject to so many prying ears- it would do to keep the knowledge of the Thane’s possibele deeds and Balgruuf’s endorsement of them from as many people as possible.
His Thane and Irileth followed him back to the jarl’s quarters. Breakfast had been laid out upon the table in his rooms, and he gestured for the Thane to sit and eat. When Irileth made to take up her post by the door, he shook his head.
“Join us, my friend,” he said, sitting down as well. “You’ll be standing long enough today and tonight, and I could use your council.” A look passed between them, Irileth’s eyes flashing with stubbornness before her expression softened and she came to sit beside him.
No matter the difficulties he faced, he could always count on Irileth being at his side. He could hardly recall a time when it hadn’t been so.
“So you’ll approve this jo- my idea?” his Thane asked. She had plucked an apple from the tale and was making short work of it.
He sighed. “As little as I like it, yes.” As easy as it was to forget, this woman was the Dragonborn. If she died, the whole of Tamriel would suffer. Yet… she wouldn’t survive as Dragonborn if she couldn’t handle a few bandits. And her confidence spoke of prior experience with similar work.
“Excellent,” she said, grinning widely as she bit into another apple. “I’ll need a set of farmer’s clothes then, and a bushel or two of potatoes or apples, and a horse. Not a noble’s horse- they’ll spot a trap a mile off. A nice, strong plowhorse, worth stealing but not particular attention.”
“Will you take Lydia with you?” Balgruuf asked. The housecarl could even the odds considerably.
His Thane shook her head. “She would have a hard time passing for a farmer, even out of armor,” she said. “I’m much more convincingly ragged.”
“You’re skilled enough to kill them without raising the alarm?” Irileth said.
The Thane nodded. “I am.”
Irileth eyed her appraisingly. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She glanced over at Balgruuf. “With your permission, my jarl.”
The above is 2.2 and this is Bountry [2.3/?]
Date: 2014-01-31 10:31 pm (UTC)Balgruuf nodded. The Thane looked between them for a moment, and then stood from the table. “I’m up to any test you care to give,” she said.
* * *
Irileth was unnerving. It seemed that whenever Fi was in the keep, Irileth’s eyes followed her. Even when she was hidden in some shadow or out of the housecarl’s line of sight, she could feel her eyes on her. The housecarl never seemed to sleep either, and she could move so quickly and so silently she took Fi off guard sometimes.
Fi hid her uneasiness with her smuggest smile as she followed Irileth out into the hall of the keep. Irileth barked an order to the guards at their posts by the jarl’s throne to take up her position guarding the jarl until she returned.
Fi didn’t miss their soft sounds of disbelief, either.
Outside, the sun had just risen above the mountains, casting a soft glow across the city. She followed Irileth down the steps of Dragonsreach, and to the bench across from the statue that marked the city’s shrine of Talos. The particularly passionate preacher who spent his days yelling at the masses was just arriving, and his first sermon of the day drowned out their exchange.
“That hall over there,” Irileth tipped her head towards the building to their right. It was an enormous longhouse, with a curved roof that resembled the hull of a boat. “That is Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions.” She grimaced in distaste. “You’re lucky. They’ll be just as easy to get past as a bunch of drunken bandits- doubtless they’re still sleeping heavily from last night’s excesses.”
Fi nodded, wondering offhandedly if Irileth was trying to get her killed. The reputation of the Companions had made it all the way to Riften- there were few who could match them in skill on the battlefield, supposedly. But drunken louts were easy to sneak past.
“Their Harbinger, de facto leader of sorts, is a tall Nord with brown braids and two scars across his face,” Irileth murmured, tracing two lines with her fingers from the bridge of her nose to the edge of her jaw. “He carries an elven dagger, enchanted to absorb the health and vitality of its mark. I want you to steal it, and bring it back to me.”
Fi cast a glance at Jorrvaskr, and nodded. “Alright. Anything else I should know?”
“Plenty,” Irileth said with a small smile, “but I doubt the bandits will be so generous with information. I’ll give you an hour.” She stood and walked back towards Dragonsreach.
Re: The above is 2.2 and this is Bountry [2.3/?]
Date: 2014-01-31 10:32 pm (UTC)Fi sat on the bench for a few minutes, pretending to listen to the priest while turning over Irileth’s instructions in her head. From her explorations of the city, she knew Jorrvaskr had two doors, but both were large and unsubtle. The one in the back was out of sight of the streets- but it let out to the training grounds.
Irileth had said the Companions followed the stereotype about Nords and alcohol readily, and it was a mead hall. What were the chances of any of them out practicing at barely an hour past dawn?
Time was against her then. She stood, smiling at the priest, and walked unhurriedly past the Gildergreen, to the Wind District. The merchants were just beginning to arrive at their stalls She whiled away a few nervous minute, pretending to be engrossed in Carlotta Valentia’s display of produce, before circling back around a few houses and following the city wall back to the training grounds of Jorrvaskr.
A quick survey of the yard yielded no movement. Fi was about to step from the shadow of the wall, when the back door of the mead hall was pushed upon. A lithe female warrior wearing stripes of war paint across her face and little else crossed the porch, unslinging a bow from her back. Fi froze, watching as the woman stopped a few paces from the porch, turning to the circular arrow targets arrayed at the far end of the training field.
Fi seized her chance and hurried across the field, using a little of her meager magicka to cast Muffle. She had mastered stepping silently, but something in this woman’s bearing told her it would be wise to take the extra precaution.
The doors of Jorrvaskr clicked softly behind her, and she pressed herself back against them. Inside, the mead hall was silent, but for the scratch of straw against the floorboards. An old woman was sweeping the left, her back turned to Fi.
The mead hall was lit by little more than the central hearth, leaving plenty of shadows for her to creep through.
The old woman was blocking the entrance to the rooms at the far end of the hall, so Fi took her chances with the set of stairs closest to her. They led down to a low hall, lined with more tables. She paused for a moment, but the only sound that met her ears was snoring.
Bountry [2.5/?]
Date: 2014-01-31 10:34 pm (UTC)Peering into the doors she passed, she discovered a storeroom and the Companions’ barracks. Almost every bed in the room was filled, but none of their occupants matched the description of the Companions’ Harbinger.
If he was their leader, it would make sense for him to have his own quarters. She continued along the hall. It ended in a small room with a bookshelf and a table- and another door. She pressed her ears against the door, and only heard more snoring.
Easing the door open a little, she peered inside. It was a small bedroom, better furnished than the other rooms she had passed, and festooned in the trophies of many travels. On the bed lay a brown-haired man.
Fi slipped inside the room, shutting the door softly behind her. The man on the bed shifted, turning towards her, and she froze, but his eyes were still closed. He had a Nord face, with long, straight features, marked by two livid scars that from his nose to his jawline.
Fi allowed herself a small smile as she crept closer to the bed. The man had clearly been in no condition to put things away the night before, and his armor lay in a discarded heap on the floor, along with his weapons. To her good fortune, the armor was leather instead of steel- easy to sift through without making noise.
It took less than a minute to find the elven dagger Irileth had spoken of. When she drew the dagger from its sheathe, the blade glowed a dull crimson, signifying its enchantment. The name Ruinsap was encribed on its hilt. Fi hooked resheathed it and tucked it into her belt before straightening up.
Almost childishly easy, really. She doubted this task reflected the difficulty she would find at Fort Graymoor in the least. Stealing a dagger was far easier than cutting throats.
She was about to leave when something on the man’s endtable caught her eye. It was a small bowl of woad paint, the sort commonly used by Nords as warpaint. Dipping a finger into the paint told her it was still usable.
An idea caught her fancy. Yes, stealing a blade was far easier than cutting a throat- but if she had been an assassin, there would have been nothing stopping her from cutting this man’s throat now. She dipped her fingers further into the bowl, and then leaned over the man and painted a line of woad across his neck.
* * *
Two hours later Fi was on the road, dressed in simple farmer’s clothes, and leading a ploughhorse laden with bushels of apples and tomatoes. Ruinsap was strapped to her thigh.
A!A here to correct their mistake
Date: 2014-02-01 01:46 am (UTC)Pretend Irileth told her the dagger's name and she didn't read it off the handle?
I'm really sorry DX
Re: A!A here to correct their mistake
Date: 2014-02-01 01:02 pm (UTC)But Omg, who is the harbinger of the Companions omg. This is seriously great A!A. Irileth is so cute with Balgruuf and I love the task she set up for Fi. Perfect descriptions! Can't wait for more!
A!A
Date: 2014-02-02 07:57 am (UTC)Eee I'm super glad you're enjoying it! It's a lot of fun to write : D I always thought it was cute how protection of Balgruuf Irileth is, she's so intense compared to the other housecarls.
The Harbinger is a Harbinger of mine... he'll feature a bit more in this fic ;)
Bounty [3.1/?]
Date: 2014-02-02 05:14 am (UTC)Fi grinned. On days like this she could almost forget the dangers of the wilderness in Skyrim, and enjoy its beauty. It helped that Whiterun was one of the more temperate holds, a far cry from the Pale or Winterhold. She shuddered at the thought of the long, freezing weeks she had spent crossing Skyrim after the ship she had bought passage on had wrecked off the coast of the Pale.
Though she had been born and raised in Highrock, she never had had much a tolerance for cold. Her father had always said it was the Redguard blood in her, calling out for the warm sands of a home she had never seen. Aside from the cold, cities had always been where she found herself at home.
She sighed, reaching up to pat the horse’s main. Whiterun was far different from Riften, but… There was something about it that inspired trust; a sense of community. A fair jarl and a prosperous hold relatively untouched by the rigors of war- it made for a happier city, certainly. Riften, in all its unwashed glory, had been her home, but only in the Flagon had she ever felt safe. When she walked the streets of Whiterun, she didn’t find herself listening to every footfall, every little nise for possible attack.
It was… odd. But not bad.
Her thoughts were brought back to the present by the stone monstrosity looming ahead of her. Once, Fort Greymoor had been an Imperial outpost, but it had been abandoned in the Great War. Ever since then it had been habitually occupied by the manner of lowlives who congregated in the crevices of Skyrim- necromancers, vampires, and acolytes of daedra or other cults. Mostly they had been small groups that kept to themselves, Balgruuf explained. As long as they didn’t start preying off the roads of the hold and kept their arcane workings to themselves, they were ignored. But bandits were a different story.
Fi’s grip on the horse’s lead rope tightened as the approached. She cast her eyes downward, forcing her features to reflect weariness and boredom, while her other senses strained to catch any signs of the bandits.
She didn’t present the richest target, but it would be unlikely for a young Redguard girl to carry jewels or richer merchandise.
At the last the telltale clink of armor met her ears. She didn’t look up, and began to hum softly to herself as she walked.
The next thing she knew four men had leapt from the tall grass, circling her and her horse.
“What’s a little girl doing out all on her own?” the bandit in front of her said. He was a tall Nord man, with two axes at his belt and one good eye. His armor was a ragged patchwork of studded leather and steel.
Bounty [3.2/?]
Date: 2014-02-02 05:16 am (UTC)A glance to her right told her other two bandits were a pair of green-scaled Argonians. They hissed at her menacingly, brandishing swords.
“I- I don’t want any trouble, sirs,” she said, letting a quiver creep its way into her voice. “I- I’m not carrying anything worth stealing.” Her eyes went to her baskets, and the eyes of all the bandits followed hers.
The young Khajiit lowered his sword to step towards the horse, and Fi made her move. She drew the iron dagger at her belt and lunged at him, swinging the blade clumsily at his back. The strike merely scraped the leather of his armor, but the force of their collision knocked both of them to the ground, her on top of him. The dagger was knocked from her hand.
It only took a moment for the Khajiit bandit to flip her over and put his own blade to her neck. Fi went limp, giving up her frantic scramble for her dagger.
“Look at what we’ve got here!” a raspy voice hissed.
“What is it?” the Khajiit asked, not stupid enough to take his eyes off Fi for the second time.
“I think our young friend is a bit more than she pretends to be,” the Nord bandit crowed. Craning her neck, Fi could see the bandits had cut down the baskets of apples and tomatoes from the old plowhorse, letting the produce scatter on the roads. They were now pawing through the linen-wrapped bundles that had been hidden underneath.
The afternoon sun caught the gleam of gold as the Nord lifted a tangle of necklaces and bracelets to the light. One of the Argonians exclaimed as he unwrapped a silver circlet, and the next admired a handful of large soul gems.
The Nord laughed. “Teach us not to take a woman at face value, eh?” he motioned to the Khajiit, who stood and hauled Fi to her feet, keeping an arm around her neck. She struggled half-heartedly, all for show.
“I think we’ve caught ourselves a thief,” the smaller of the two Argonians rasped.
The Khajiit laughed and prodded her shoulder with his free paw. “Of course. Did you think a mere farmgirl could have gotten a jump on Dar’med?”
The Nord laughed. “A stray dog could get a jump on you,” he said, sheathing his sword and steeping closer to Fi. “It’s certainly no proof of skill.” He examined the jewelry he held and then peered at Fi. “This haul, however…” His expression tightened. “Are you Thieves’ Guild, girl?” he barked.
The Khajiit’s paws immediately loosened on her. The Thieves’ Guild was not what it had been in the height of its glory, according to Delvin, but it was something to inspire fear once again. Even these bandits knew of it.
“Wh-What?” Fi stuttered. “I- I mean… I…”
The Nord’s wariness fell away in an instant. “Good,” he said. Dar’med’s claws tightened on her shoulders again. “No one but the guild misses a thief…” he laughed, tucking the jewelry into a pouch at his belt.
Bounty [3.3/?]
Date: 2014-02-02 05:18 am (UTC)“What?” the Nord said.
“I… it’s true, I’m… I’m no… no Guild thief,” she said, letting her voice strengthen. “But I’m not useless! I stole that loot from right under the Jarl’s nose, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat! I’d slit his throat!”
The Nord smiled thinly. “That’s well and good for you, miss, but we’re no Thieves’ Guild. We take what we want by force, not trickery. We’ve no use for sneakthieves.”
Dar’med’s attention was on the exchange, and his grip on her had relaxed again. Fi smashed her elbow against his stomach, and then ducked out of his grip, snatching up her dagger from where it had fallen. In an instant the three bandits still on their feet had surrounded her, but they didn’t move to attack.
The Nord laughed. “A fine show, but you’re still outnumbered.” Behind him, Dar’med groaned. “Stand up,” the Nord snapped, and the Khajiit climbed reluctantly to his feet and took his place by the Nord.
The dagger dropped from Fi’s fingers, and she lifted her empty hands, palms-out. “I merely wanted to demonstrate my skills,” she said. “If you’re the bandits that nearly killed the Jarl’s brother- well, then, I bear you nothing but goodwill.” She smiled tremulously. “The aftermath of your exploits gave me all distraction I needed to rob Dragonsreach blind. You’re welcome to a substantial share of my loot.”
“A substantial share,” the taller Argonian jeered. “Coming from an unarmed, outnumbered little sack of flesh, that’s quite a generous offer.”
“Kill her,” rasped the second Argonian.
The Nord’s smile widened. “Sorry, girl, but you’d just be hassle.” He took a step closer to her, lifting his sword to her neck.
Two clever by half, she thought as the cool metal was pressed against her throat. Gods, they always said I was too clever by half. A stupid plan ruined by a lazy Nord.
“Wait,” a voice said, just as the bandit’s sword pressed against the left side of her throat.
A paw reached out to stay the Nord’s sword, and Fi and the bandit turned to see Dar’med easing himself between her and the blade. “Don’t be a fool, Bjalfi. Eyja will have our pelts if we kill this one”
Bjalfi’s lips twisted in disgust, and he shoved Dar’med away. “Have you gone soft all of a sudden? Eager take in strays?” he laughed. “Is this how cats court? Did you mistake her attacks for advances?” He lifted Fi’s skirt with the tip of his blade. “If your taste runs scrawny and Redguard, have at her. I’ll cut her throat first, so she won’t overpower you. She’ll be warm long enough for one good fuck.”
Dar’med’s face twisted in revulsion. “Dar’med can count past five, unlike you,” he snarled. “And Dar’med knows that our forces are nearly halved by those guards.” He gestured at Fi. “Dar’med also knows Eyja would slit your throat if she got word you’d killed a willing recruit.”
“We aren’t running a damn Guild,” one of the Argonians growled, but the other one, the smaller of the two, stepped forward to stand beside Dar’med.
“Dar’med’s right,” he said. “Our numbers are half what they were. Another set of hands means less work for us.”
Bjalfi stared at Fi for a moment, then shook his head and slid his sword back into its sheathe. “Very well,” he growled, turned and stalking back towards the fort. “Grab the horse, Stares-at-the-Sun.”
The smaller Argonian caught the old plowhorse’s leadrope.
Throughout the ordeal the beast had stood and watched placidly, and now he followed his new masters without a whicker. Fi was made to walk along behind, the point of Dar’med’s sword pressed up against her back.
OP
Date: 2014-02-02 04:21 pm (UTC)I'm stressing out for her because although I don't doubt she could take them all laughing, going into a den with Bandits like that. Ack, I hope she isn't hurt by all this!
Bounty [4.1/?]
Date: 2014-02-06 08:10 am (UTC)There was a burned corpse in the cage with her.
Fi scrambled to the other side of her prison, as far away from the gruesome thing as she could. There she rested her head in her hands for a moment, swallowing back bile and trying to dispel the instinctive nausea. She had seen far worse, she reminded herself, in the Ratways and in Helgen. A burned corpse was far from the most threatening of cellmates.
Forcing herself to look at the corpse again, she noticed the tatters of charred cloth still clinging to the melted mess that had been its armor, and recognized the colors- white and yellow. One of Hrongar’s force, most likely.
The new flames kindled in her chest chased away her revulsion. Whiterun was hers to protect, her Guild now, in a sense. These bandits had tortured her Guildmates to death, and they would suffer ignoble deaths for it.
Out beyond the bars of her cell, the fort’s inner yard was silent. Bjalfi and Dar’med had tossed her into the cage before disappearing into the fort’s keep. Aside from the sentries positioned on the ramparts, the only bandits in the yard were busy at the forge on the other side, sharpening their blades and stripping animal pelts to craft or mend their armor. None had given her so much as a glance.
Fi slid down to sit on the ground. If the cage had been more than a few strides long, she would have started to pace. The utter silence of the fort was starting to creep under her skin, accustomed as she was to the masking bustle of cities. This silence felt… wrong.
The sun was creeping down towards the distance hills by the time more life appeared in the yard. The doors of the fort’s keep were thrown upon, and out spilled the bandits.
They came in all shapes and sizes, dressed in a patched array of stolen and makeshift. Every race in Skyrim was represented, though Nords outnumbered all the rest. Many bore the marks of blades or run-ins with mages. They were united in bearing- ll hard, grim men and women armed to the teeth. Half of them clanked when they walked, despite their preference for light armors.
The bandits spilled out into the yard, chattering and carousing. Half were drunk, and the other half well on their way to the state. Fi’s paltry acquisitions couldn’t have merited this celebration, could they? If this was the state they were in every evening, it would make her job much easier.
One woman among the bandits caught Fi’s eye. Her attire was enough to set her apart; unlike her badly-armored brethren, she was clad in well-polished steel. But it was her bearing that attracted Fi’s attention. She stood among the bandits, yet clearly apart. None of them slapped her on the back or called jests to her, and when she raised her hand the yard fell silent. All their eyes turned on her.
The Nord woman bore their gazes with the easy confidence of one long-accustomed to command. She took a moment to survey them, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips.
“It’s been a profitable evening, my friends,” she said. “A profitable evening’s gain- but a pittance to what we could take- to what we will take yet.” Her smile widened to a grin. “We’ve proved that not even the Jarl’s own kin can stop us- what have we to fear? The Empire? They’re too busy with Ulfric’s boys. The gods?” She laughed. “They’re busy with the Stormcloaks as well, no doubt. So drink and be merry, but be prepared to ride out tomorrow and take twice the prizes!”
The last statement incited a cheer from the bandits, and they began to talk once more, breaking off into groups and wandering about the yard.
The Nord woman turned as the doors of Graymoor’s keep opened. Out stepped another woman, wearing mage’s dark gray robes. Fi leaned forward, pressing herself against the bars to get a better look, but her features were hidden by the hood of her robes.
After the Nord consulted for a few minutes with the gray-robed woman, she called two familiar names. “Bjalfi! Dar’med!” The two bandits detached themselves from opposite sides of the fort and walked up the stairs to their leader.
Re: Bounty [4.1/?]
Date: 2014-02-06 08:15 am (UTC)Fi slid down to the dirt floor, staring at the far end of the cage and its burnt occupant. The handiwork of that mage, most likely. Fire was one of the easiest spells, and Fi had used it to her advantage before, but she’d never burned anyone so… thoroughly. Flames had always been used as just a defensive tactic, something to stagger her opponents and give her room to maneuver.
The thoughts tumbled through her head as she listened to two pairs of footsteps approach- one softly, and one clanking like a cauldronful of spoons.
“Redguard,” the Nord woman’s voice said, measured and cold.
Fi scrambled to her feet, feigning surprise. Even standing she had to look up to meet the Nord woman’s eyes- Fi’s measure of Breton blood showed in her small stature, and this woman was a Nord through and through. Up close, Fi could see the marks of age upon her features, and the gray threads in her long blonde hair. She must have been Balgruuf’s age, at the least. It would have been a testament to her toughness, if Fi had assumed she had been on the wrong side of the law her whole life, but something in the bandit leader’s bearing told her otherwise.
When Fi didn’t speak, the Nord woman laughed. “What is this, no pleading? No begging for your life?”
Fi raised her chin. If this woman had been a different sort, she would have thrown herself to her knees and begged. But the steel in this woman’s gaze was the sort that only respected equal strength. A common enough bearing among Nords; especially old soldiers.
“I- I said everything that I have to say to your bandits,” she said. “I don’t think there would be much use in repeating it.”
The dark-robed mage, standing at the Nord woman’s elbow, shook her head. “Arrogance is always an interesting foolishness from those behind bars,” she said, gesturing to the corpse behind Fi. “It often leads to quick resolutions- but not the sort all parties would hope for.” Her voice carried the unmistakable tinge of Daggerfall, and up close Fi could make out enough of her face to put her down as a Breton of equal years to the Nord.
Fi followed her gaze to the corpse, and looked quickly away. “I meant no arrogance,” she said quickly, lifting her head to meet the mage’s gaze. “I only wished to-“
“There’s a difference between stubborn arrogance, the folly of that man,” the Nord said, stabbing her finger at the corpse. “And common sense.” She flashed the mage a grin. “This girl is quaking in her boots, but she has enough brains and pride not to grovel. Perhaps Bjalfi was wise to bring her back here. Do you have a name, Redguard?”
“M-Montague,” Fi said quickly. A name that was not entirely false was easier to answer to than a wholly fabricated one. “Who- who are you?”
“Eyja Bright-blade,” the Nord woman said. “The one in charge here. The one who you will answer to, if your life is spared.”
Fi nodded.
“I’ve heard you brought my men quite a haul of treasure,” Eyja said. “And displayed a worthy, if foolish amount of courage in an attempt to impress them.” Her cold gray eyes appraised Fi’s scrawny body. “You’re no brawler. I doubt you could even lift a greastword, much less draw blood. What use could one scrawny girl be?”
“I’m quick,” Fi said, “and light-footed.”
Eyja was silent for a moment, her gaze still on Fi.
“Were your claims of stealing from Dragonsreach true?”
Fi looked into those cold, untfathomable gray eyed and lied. “Yes.”
The mage touched Eyja’s shoulder lightly, murmuring something into her ear. The bandit leader’s expression shifted, guardedness replacing her skepticism.
“We’re not thieves,” she said after a pause. “If you work with us, you fight, just like everyone else. No pretty little schemes or sneaking about. You live and die by the same ways as the rest of us.”
Fi nodded again. “Understood.”
(Sorry again for the shortness! If you're interested in Fi's pre-Thieves Guld pre-Whiterun introduction to Skyrim, the latest fic under the Character With No Love prompt features her... and also needs to be updated by me XD)
Re: Bounty [4.1/?]
Date: 2014-02-13 06:40 am (UTC)