I knew Riften was a city full of low people, but I didn't think the guards would be as low as to demand a visitor's tax from a poor woman who obviously didn't have two septims to rub together.

I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to keep warm in the freezing deluge pouring down on my head. My ragged clothes did nothing to protect me from the rain. The cold cobbles beneath my bare feet struck icy shivers into my calloused soles, only making me colder than I was before.

"Please," I begged. "Please just let me get out of the rain. Can't I at least sleep under there?" I pointed to the tunnel leading to the city's door, where the guards were standing to avoid the rain.

"No, you can't," the guard said, placing a hand on his sword. I couldn't see his expression underneath his masked helmet, but I knew he was wearing a face of impatience. "Now get out of here. Riften has enough beggars. We don't need anymore." His voice changed, tone on the border of menacing. "Especially elven beggars."

I set my jaw. I wasn't an elf. Well, at least not a full-blooded elf. My father was Bosmeri, but my mother was Nord. I just took most of my father's traits, like his ears, slanted eyes, high cheekbones, darker skin, and lithe build. I inherited my mother's green eyes and long, silky charcoal hair. My Bosmer blood was strong. And because of it, I was hated by both the Nords and the elves.

How wonderful, I thought to myself, my sarcasm thick even within my own mind.

"Did you hear me, elf?" The guard took a small step forward, his tone still hateful. "Get out of here."

"But where am I supposed to go?"

He drew his sword, causing his fellow guard to do the same. "Do you think I care? Now leave!"

Trying to keep a brave face, I turned and walked away, my legs shaking with fatigue. I had already spent all day hiking over the rough and mountainous terrain that was the Rift. I had been attacked by wolves, chased by bandits, and run straight out of Ivarsted. Riften was the closest hold from there. I was hoping to at least have four walls to keep me safe for tonight.

But that was apparently hope misplaced.

The rain started coming down harder, making it nearly impossible to see. My head bobbed as I stumbled down the path. My arms fell to my sides, swinging around with every faltering step. I needed rest. I needed food. I needed...

I tripped over a loose cobblestone, falling face-first into the mud. I lay there, cold, hungry, and exhausted, without making an effort to get up. I couldn't get up, even if I wanted to. I had no strength.

This is what I get for being reckless and stupid. Perhaps I deserve to die.

On the path nearby, two pairs of footsteps and two voices, one male and one female, approached my motionless form. The man said something that made the woman laugh.

Maybe these people would help me. If I could just get their attention.... "He... help," I wheezed, turning onto my side. "Help...." My eyes rolled back into my head. If I had the energy, I would've been shivering, but I was drained.

"Hold up, Vex," the man said, his voice accented and only a few feet away. "What's this here?"

"Looks like a poor wench who got mugged," the woman said, her tone sharp and critical. "Come on, Bryn. She's not worth our time."

"Not worth our time? The poor lass must've tried to enter the city, but got turned out. I think we should help her."

"Since when are you a saint? Come on, let's just get back."

The man, Bryn, cleared his throat. A big, rough, and warm hand touched my shoulder. "Lass? Can you hear me?"

I cracked one eye open, my vision too blurred to make out anything other than two vague shapes of people.

"Ah, she's alive." The hand left my shoulder, and the shape in front of me shifted. Something thick, heavy, and smelling of old leather, stagnant sewer water, and stale air laid over my torso. Even though it stank, it kept the rain off my body, and offered some sort of warmth.

The woman named Vex huffed. "You're wasting your time. And the Guild's money." The way she said "Guild" made it sound important.

"This is coming out of my own pocket. Don't worry your little head about it." Strong arms lifted me off the ground, out of the mud. My head lolled against Bryn's warm chest.

"Now that you have her, let's get our sorry hides out of this rain. Mercer is going to be pissed as it is."

"Aye, you're right." Bryn began moving at a clipped pace, Vex following after him.

When we reached the gates, I expected Bryn to be stopped, like I was, but the guards let him and Vex through. They didn't seem to notice that Bryn was carrying in the exact same woman they'd turned out only minutes before.

Boards creaked as Bryn and Vex walked into the city. I opened my eyes a little more, eager to see the town. I had never been to Riften before; my parents had kept me tucked away in Dawnstar for most of my life. And even in my adult life, I didn't have the courage to branch out until now.

Most of the homes were made of wood, and were two to three stories tall. In the distance, in a circled, chest-high wall of stone, were voices of merchants selling their wares. Across the way came the scent of food and honey-filled mead. My stomach growled, loud enough to make Vex sneer.

I saw the woman for the first real time. She had platinum-blonde hair that fell to her shoulders in a stringy mess. Her skin was pale, and her shoulders were squared underneath her leather armor. The sneer on her face didn't help raise my already-low opinion of her.

"Count on Brynjolf to show charity to the one woman who's just a starving wench," she muttered as she headed across a wooden bridge.

I looked up, at Bryn's—Brynjolf's—face for the first time. I should've known by his attractive voice that he would be handsome. His hair was fiery red, coming down to his collarbones. His eyes shimmered like emeralds, rivaling my own verdant irises. He had a strong jaw shadowed by stubble, and one cheek bore a pink scar. Ruggedly handsome.

"Lass?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry, didn't mean to stare," I said, looking away. "I couldn't really see you earlier, so...."

"Ah," was all he said.

He crossed the bridge Vex had gone over, heading towards the building that smelled like mead and food. A hanging sign above the door said, "The Bee and the Barb." I had heard of it before; it was the inn.

Brynjolf pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped out of the rain. The warm air took the chill from my bones and made me even more tired than I was before. I leaned again my Bryn's chest again, eyes drooping shut.

"Lass, don't fade on me," he said as he walked deeper into the main room. He jostled me, forcing me awake, and set me down at one of the empty tables. I shook my head, and tiny droplets of water showered over me. The barkeeper, an Argonian woman, gave me a scaly sneer before glaring at Brynjolf.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice rough. "I already told you I wasn't—"

"This isn't about your debt, Keerava," Brynjolf said smoothly. "I came by to get a meal. Can't a man order a drink from the inn?"

"If that man is you, no." Keerava pointed a finger to the door. "There's the door. Why don't you use it?"

"You know, I would hate for something to happen to that family of yours back in Morrowind...."

Keerava's face paled, her oddly-pupiled eyes going wide. "How do you know...? Never mind, I've got some soup and mead ready. You'll have it soon."

"Thank you, lass." He winked at her before sitting down across from me. He gave me a wry smile, the scar on his cheek stretching.

"How did you manage to get past the guards at the gate?" I asked, picking at my fingernails. They had mud caked underneath them. And I didn't feel comfortable looking this man in the eye.

"That is a shakedown, meant to fool the new visitors," he said. "If you'd just stood up for yourself and called them out, they would've let you in, lass."

"Do I look like the intimidating type?"

"You could be, if you wanted."

Keerava set a bottle of Black-Briar mead and a bowl of some sort of steaming stew in front of Brynjolf. The stew sloshed, some spilling onto his hand. He jerked his hand back and muttered a curse under his breath. Keerava smiled, her pointed teeth peeking from under her scaly lips. "Careful not to choke," she said, sauntering back towards the bar.

After he shook his hand out, Bryn scooted the bottle and bowl in front of me. "Eat, lass."

I stared at the food. "Why would—"

"Personal benefit."

I looked up, meeting his gaze. He had a bright gleam in his eye. "Personal benefit?"

"You're a little light in your pockets, aren't you, lass?"

I snorted. "The raggedy clothes give that away?"

He chuckled. "How'd you like to make some coin, the easy way?"

My pointed ears perked up. "How easy?"

"You see, I need an extra pair of hands for a particular job, and where I come from, extra hands are well-paid."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

He smirked. "I need you to break into Madesi's stall, in the marketplace. You'll have to pick your way into the lockbox under his stand. When you get it open, take out his ring, and put it into Brand-Shei's pocket."

Wait, was he asking me to steal? From someone? In the middle of the marketplace? Not that I was that moral or saintly, but I didn't ever consider stealing. At least, I didn't ever consider stealing from someone I didn't know.

I mentally shook those thoughts aside. I needed the coin. I couldn't get it through honest work. No one would let me work for them. I couldn't afford to be squeamish. "First, how will I do that without getting seen, and second, who are Madesi and Brand-Shei?"

He furrowed his brow, looking indignant. Maybe he thought I was reconsidering. "I'll cause a distraction in the marketplace. And before you ask, yes, it'll be a good one. As for who Madesi and Brand-Shei are, the former is an Argonian jeweler, and the latter is a Dunmer merchant."

"Isn't stealing illegal?"

His indignant look changed into a scowl. "Do I look like the kind to follow the law? Besides, you're not stealing the ring. You're merely moving it."

"When you put it that way...." I looked at the cooling stew in front of me. I hoped he didn't want to do this job while it was raining outside. I had a hard enough time moving my hands in the cold without worrying about picking open a lock. "When do you want to do this?"

"You can meet me in the marketplace in the morning, after the merchants are out selling their merchandise."

I nodded, picking up the spoon that laid in my bowl of stew. I took a bite, then a long swig of mead.

"Just make sure you don't get hungover, lass." He slapped something down on the table, then got up to leave. He stopped about halfway to the door. Turning on his heel, he scratched his chin and gave me a smirk that would melt the coldest heart. "What's your name, lass?"

"Femke," I said. "It's Femke."

"Femke... not exactly a Nord's name."

"I'm not exactly a Nord."

He nodded, then headed into the rain.

Once he was gone, I looked down and what he'd put in front of me. It was a small coin purse, probably full of enough gold to pay for a night here. I glanced at the door he'd left from, pondering why he would be so generous. He said it was for personal benefit. And perhaps it was. But no one had ever shown me so much kindness.

If it truly is kindness, I thought, eating my stew in silence. I can't be too eager. Not after he'd asked me to steal from someone I don't even know.

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A/N: So I decided to write a Thieves Guild fanfiction. Not to jump on any bandwagon or anything, but I thought it would be fun. I love the Thieves Guild almost as much as I love the Companions, so I am really eager to write this story. The updates won't be as regular as the other updates in my other Skyrim fics. But I will try to get things up at a semi-regular schedule. Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to vote and comment! Lots of loves and sweetrolls!
~Wolfie 💙